#Marley Station

[jacdurac]

1959 DeSoto wagon by Paul Balze Via Flickr: There's a period child seat in the back, along with period travel games and vacation-spot stickers on the windows. It's like it just came back from a family vacation--in 1961. Lost in the 50s cruise night, Marley Station Mall, Glen Burnie, MD, April 5, 2008.

[david6of7]

Marley Station

Photography by David Velez

#davidvelez #david6of7 #photograph #originalcontent #bench #broken #marleystation

[ashtrayteeth]

[msdroppinit]

NEW YOUTUBE CHANNEL

I have developed excellent skills as a designer, writer and editor which allows me to come up with effective visuals for conveying information. Through hard work and dedication, I have created innovative designs that are attention grabbing and aesthetically pleasing at the same time. As a creative writer I know how to use words efficiently in order to get my message across while keeping readers engaged. My vider editing capabilities enable me to transform mundane videos into stunning pieces of art which showcase emotion as well as talent.TodayI am an Audio Restoration Expert, and I specialize in the conversion & remastering of antique audio recordings. My mission is to breathe new life into music that has been forgotten or lost to time. I work with audio from vintage cassettes, vinyl discs, and more.My experience and passion for music have allowed me to be successful at rescuing and reanimating these antiques and transforming them into sound that can be appreciated by a new generation.

[whitepolaris]

I've been watching a lot of dead malls videos. And I keep thinking "How is Marley Station Mall is open?" It's on life support but it's still open.

[grantgoddard]

The day the (reggae) music died : 1981 : Bob Marley, Linton Kwesi Johnson, Matumbi

 “Bob Marley has died!” I exclaimed. Having switched on the car radio before starting the engine, one of Marley’s songs was playing on John Peel’s ‘BBC Radio One’ ten-to-midnight show. I knew immediately what that meant. Peel was a longtime reggae fan, though I had not heard him play a Marley track for years. There was no need to await Peel’s voice announcing the sad news. I had read that Marley was ill but had not understood the terminal gravity of his health.

Peterlee town centre was dark and desolate at that late hour. I had walked to my little Datsun car across a dark, empty car park adjacent to the office block of Peterlee Development Corporation, accompanied by my girlfriend who was employed there on a one-year government job creation scheme. We had attended a poetry reading organised by Peterlee Community Arts in the building, an event she had learnt of from her marketing work. It was my first poetry reading. Only around a dozen of us were present, everyone else at least twice our age. But what we heard was no ordinary poetry.

Linton Kwesi Johnson had coined his work ‘dub poetry’ in 1976 and already published three anthologies and four vinyl albums, voicing his experiences as a Jamaican whose parents had migrated to Britain in 1962. Peterlee new town seemed an unlikely venue for a ‘dub poet’, a deprived coal mining region with no discernible black population, but working class Tyneside poet Keith Armstrong had organised this event as part of his community work there to foster residents’ creative writing. Johnson read some of his excellent poems and answered the group’s polite questions. It was an intimate, quiet evening of reflection.

Due to my enthusiasm for reggae, I was familiar with Johnson’s record albums as one strand of the outpouring of diverse innovation that Britain’s homegrown reggae artists had been pioneering since the early 1970’s. Alongside ‘dub poetry’ (poems set to reggae), there was ‘lovers rock’ (soulful reggae with love themes sung mostly by teenage girls), UK ‘roots reggae’ (documenting the Black British experience) and a distinctly British version of ‘dub’ (radical mixes using studio effects). One name that was playing a significant writing/producing role spanning all these sub-genres was Dennis Bovell, alias ‘Blackbeard’, of the British group ‘Matumbi’. His monumental contributions to British reggae are too often understated.

Until then, there had been plenty of reggae produced in British studios and released by UK record labels such as ‘Melodisc’, ‘Pama’ and ‘Trojan’, but most efforts had been either a rather clunky imitation of Jamaican reggae (for example, Millie’s 1964 UK hit ‘My Boy Lollipop’ [Fontana TE 17425]) or performed by ‘dinner & dance’-style UK groups such as ‘The Marvels’. I admit to having neglected Matumbi upon hearing their initial 1973 releases, cover versions of ‘Kool & The Gang’s ‘Funky Stuff’ [Horse HOSS 39] and ‘Hot Chocolate’s ‘Brother Louie' [GG 4540]. It was not until their 1976 song ‘After Tonight’ [Safari SF 1112] and the self-released 12-inch single ‘Music In The Air’/’Guide Us’ [Matumbi Music Corp MA 0004] that my interest was piqued as a result of the group’s creative ability to seamlessly bridge the ‘lovers rock’, ‘roots reggae’ and ‘dub’ styles. Both sides of the latter disc remain one of my favourite UK reggae recordings (sadly, these particular mixes have not been reissued).

In 1978, Matumbi performed at Dunelm House and, after attending the gig, it was my responsibility as deputy president of Durham Students’ Union to sit in my office with the band, counting out the cash to pay their contracted fee. They were on tour to promote their first album ‘Seven Seals’ self-produced for multinational ‘EMI Records’ [Harvest SHSP 4090]. It included new mixes of the aforementioned 12-inch single plus their theme for BBC television drama ‘Empire Road’, the first UK series to be written, acted and directed predominantly by black artists. Sensing my interest in reggae, the group invited me to join them for an after-gig chat, so I drove to their motel several miles down South Road and we sat in its bar for a thoroughly enjoyable few hours discussing music.

As part of my manic obsession with the nascent ‘dub’ reggae genre, I had bought albums between 1976 and 1978 credited to ‘4th Street Orchestra’ entitled ‘Ah Who Seh? Go Deh!’ [Rama RM 001], ‘Leggo! Ah Fi We Dis’ [Rama RM 002], ‘Yuh Learn!’ [Rama RMLP 006] and ‘Scientific Higher Ranking Dubb’ [sic, Rama RM 004]. They were sold in blank white sleeves with handwritten marker-pen titles and red, gold and green record labels to make them look similar to Jamaican-pressed dub albums of that era. However, it was self-evident that most tracks were dub mixes of existing UK recordings by Matumbi backing various performers, engineered and produced by Bovell for licensing to small UK labels. I also had bought and worn two of their little lapel badges, one inscribed ‘AH WHO SEH?’, the other ‘GO DEH!’, from a London record stall. During our conversation in the bar, Bovell expressed surprise that I owned these limited-pressing albums, and even more surprise that I recognised Matumbi as behind them. They remain prime examples of UK dub.

It was Bovell who had produced Linton Kwesi Johnson’s albums, and it was Matumbi who had provided the music. Alongside a young generation of British roots reggae bands such as ‘Aswad’ and ‘Steel Pulse’, Johnson’s poetry similarly tackled contemporary social and political issues with direct, straightforward commentaries. It was a new style of British reggae, an echo of recordings by American collective ‘The Last Poets’ whose conscious poems/raps had been set to music (sometimes by ‘Kool & The Gang’) since 1970, and whose couplets had occasionally been integrated into recordings by Jamaican DJ ‘Big Youth’ in the 1970’s. Of course, MC’s (‘Masters of Ceremonies’) had been talking over (‘toasting’) records at ‘dances’ in Jamaica since the 1960’s, proof that the evolution of ‘rap’ owed as much to the island’s sound system culture as it did to 1970’s New York house parties.

In Peterlee, Johnson read his poems to the audience without music, his usual performance style. It was fascinating to hear his words without any accompaniment. For me, the dub version of Johnson’s shocking 1979 poem ‘Sonny’s Lettah’ (retitled ‘Iron Bar Dub’ on ‘LKJ In Dub’ [Island ILPS 9650]) is brilliantly effective precisely when the music is mixed out to leave his line “Me couldn’t stand up there and do nothin’” hanging in silence. Sadly, memories of Johnson’s performance that night were suddenly eclipsed by the news of Marley’s death. I drove the eight miles to our Sherburn Village home in stunned silence. I was sad and shocked. It was only then that his sudden loss made me realise how much Marley had meant to me.

Despite having listened to reggae since the late 1960’s, I admittedly arrived late to Bob Marley’s music. Though I had heard many of his singles previously, it was not until his 1974 album ‘Natty Dread’ [Island ILPS 9281] that I understood his genius. At that time, I was feeling under a lot of personal pressure which I tried to relieve by listening to this record every day for the next two years. At home, my father had run off, leaving our family in grave financial difficulties. At school, I was struggling with its inflexibility, not permitted to take two mathematics A-levels, not allowed to mix arts and science A-levels, not encouraged to apply to Cambridge University. Back in my first year at that school, I had been awarded three school prizes. However, once my parents separated and then divorced, I was never given a further prize and the headmaster’s comments in my termly school reports became strangely negative, regardless of my results.

Feeling increasingly like an unwanted ‘outsider’ at grammar school, Marley’s lyrics connected with me and helped keep my head above encroaching waters rising in both my home and school lives. I knew I was struggling and needed encouragement from some source, any source, to continue. For me, that came from Marley’s music. While my classmates were mostly listening to ‘progressive rock’ albums with zany song titles (such as Genesis’ ‘I Know What I Like In Your Wardrobe’), I was absorbed by reggae and soul music that spoke about the daily struggle to merely survive the tribulations of life. After ‘Natty Dread’, I rushed out to buy every new Marley release.

During the months following Marley’s death, I was absorbed by sadness. It felt like the ‘final straw’. The previous year, I had landed a ‘dream job’, my first permanent employment, overhauling the music playlist for Metro Radio. Then, after successfully turning around that station’s fortunes, I had unexpectedly been made redundant. I was now unemployed and my every job application had been rejected. That experience had followed four years at Durham University which had turned out to be a wholly inappropriate choice as it was colonised by 90%+ of students having arrived from private schools funded by posh families. I felt like ‘a fish out of water’. I loved studying, I loved learning, I desired a fulfilling academic life at university … but it had proven nigh on impossible at Durham.

“This is what I need This is where I want to be But I know that this will never be mine”

Months later, my girlfriend awoke one morning and told me matter-of-factly that she was going to move out and live alone. She offered no explanation. We had neither disagreed nor argued. We had been sharing a room for three years, initially as students in a horribly austere miners’ cottage in Meadowfield whose rooms had no electrical sockets, requiring cables to be run from each room’s centre ceiling light-fitment. Now we were in a better rented cottage in Sherburn, though it had no phone, no gas and no television. Her bombshell announcement could not have come at a more vulnerable time for me. I had already felt rejected by most of my university peers and then by my first employer. At school previously, I had passed the Cambridge University entrance exam but had been rejected by every college. At Durham, I had stood for election as editor of the student newspaper, but its posh incumbent had recommended a rival with less journalistic experience. A decade earlier, my father had deserted me and his family, and now the person I loved the most had done the same.

I just could not seem to navigate a successful path amidst the world of middle- and upper-class contemporaries into which I had been unwittingly thrown, first at grammar school, then at Durham, and now in my personal life too. Most of those years, I felt that circumstances had forced me to focus on nothing more than survival, whilst my privileged contemporaries seemed able to pursue and fulfil their ambitions with considerable ease. I had to remind myself that I had been born in a council house and had attended state schools, initially on a council estate. My girlfriend had not. I had imagined such differences mattered not in modern Britain. I had believed that any ‘socio-economic’ gap between us could be bridged by a mutual feeling called ‘love’. I now began to wonder if I had been mistaken. I felt very much marooned and alone. My twenty-three-year-old life was in tatters.

Fast forward to 1984. I had still not secured a further job in radio. I was invited to Liverpool for a weekend stay in my former girlfriend’s flat. We visited the cathedral and attended a performance at the Everyman Theatre. It felt awkward. I never saw her again. It had taken me months to get over the impact of Bob Marley’s death. It took me considerably longer to get over my girlfriend ending our relationship. 

“That clumsy goodbye kiss could fool me But looking back over my shoulder You’re happy without me”

[cuartoretorno]

[malomaximus]

Y'all ever hear the fucking KK Slider version of a song so much that the original starts to sound weird to you?

[keiththesurvivor]

Thursday, November 3, 2022

4:23 PM

It was so good yesterday, going back into going to the theater and seeing a new movie! I saw Halloween Ends and I loved it!

[lucysarah-c]

Mother's smile

Summary: Raging war, it turns boys into men. Author note: Since the Marley world seemed to be around the 30s-40s, I’ll set this idea in a world that looks like the mid-50s. This is POST WAR. I've no idea what is this... the idea just came into my mind. Warnings: None...Angst? Perhaps? Word count: 3.8k Pairing: Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader

The muscles of his body twitched as he ran up and down, changing the train’s platform to return home. His hair flowed in the air, almost freezing from the bitter cold. He could feel the icy air biting at his undercut and chilling everything in its path. Exhaustion escaped with every puff of his reddened lips, the air condensing in front of his face. Yet, he kept running, desperate to connect one train to another.

If he didn’t time it perfectly, his family might begin to suspect he wasn't going to practice. He had quickly changed back into his regular school uniform in one of the train station's public bathrooms.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a couple of girls. They couldn't be older than him, mumbling and locking eyes. He had no time to dwell on it, but he couldn't ignore it either. It was becoming a regular occurrence. People were starting to recognize him in the crowded streets of the capital.

"Why?" he wondered, even though he knew the answer. But he reasoned, "There are TV stars and movie actresses who take the train… I'm nobody."

He knew. Ever since someone took unauthorized pictures of him during practice, fully suited up, and they were posted first in the Paradise newspaper and then spread worldwide.

"Oh my- Sorry!" He almost tripped over someone. He quickly dodged a mother carrying two kids. "I’m SO sorry," he insisted.

"Please, something for my kids," she pleaded.

Levi's intuition told him something had been off lately.

"I’m so sorry… I have nothing," he replied, feeling a deep pang in his heart. The hunger and misery on the streets had only worsened since the war restarted.

—

"Could you set the table, love? Dinner is almost ready," Y/N said, breaking his deep thoughts as she handed him a pile of dishes. "It's just that the pot is old, and if I stop stirring it-"

"Sure," Levi quickly replied, not needing any further explanation. He stood up, grabbed the dishes, and wobbled a bit on his way to the dining room. "Tch," he clicked his tongue as he checked the clock. This was usually his son's duty.

Speak of the devil, the front door swung open. "I’M HOME!" Adrien shouted as he entered. 'Finally,' Levi thought. It was winter, and it got dark outside rather quickly.

"Welcome home, dear," Y/N said, peeking over from the kitchen to see her son taking off his shoes and coat in the hall. He quickly moved to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I was starting to wonder."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, mom," Adrien said, hurriedly.

"Dinner is ready," Y/N announced.

Adrien rushed into the dining room and almost bumped into his father.

"Where the hell have you been?" Levi demanded, almost pushing the dishware into his son’s arms.

"Sorry, I'll do it-" Adrien began, but as soon as he got closer, Levi grimaced in disgust.

"Shower, now. You stink," Levi commanded, holding onto the dishes.

Adrien took a quick sniff and seemed puzzled by his father's reaction. Groaning, he quickly moved upstairs. Levi frowned and continued setting the table. "The hormones are certainly working," he muttered.

Adrien had been arriving slightly late recently, not enough to raise concern but enough to annoy Levi. "The train services are delayed by the power outages…" Y/N tried to explain. These issues had become common since the war resumed and was edging closer to home as Paradise's forces, led by a queen Levi once helped put on the throne, continued their campaign.

Unauthorized pictures of his son had made it to the front page. His baby boy, photographed by spies. 'They fucking did not.' HIS baby boy, mocked by Paradise's news.

Initially, Levi thought it was a fluke. He went to grab the morning's newspaper at the front door and noticed the front page was missing. 'Maybe the boy tore it without realizing,' he thought. The delivery was usually smooth, so he dismissed it. He figured he could grab another edition on his way to his meeting. But when he saw it, his blood boiled.

Levi was furious. He broke every personal vow he had made to himself, that whatever war Paradise and the Jaegerists wanted to get into after almost 15 years post-Rumbling was none of his business. But taking pictures of HIS son and making fun of him? He made calls to people he hadn’t spoken to in years and simply stated, "Keep my son’s name out of your fucking mouth."

Adrien had been offered personal 3DMG training by the government from a very young age. Levi and Y/N were not naive. They knew since Adrien was a little kid why the government wanted him. He was Levi’s only child. The only available Ackerman after Levi and Mikasa stopped the Rumbling.

Levi had decided to break ties with the Paradise government because they continued to support the Jaegerists. He moved to another country, seeking peace for his family. That country was one of the few places the Rumbling hadn't devastated. He, Onkopop, Falco, Gabi, his wife, and his kids lived a peaceful life for many years.

Falco and Gabi eventually moved out as they grew older, though they visited frequently. Levi wanted to give his kid the childhood he never had. But he couldn't protect him forever. Adrien had insisted on practicing with 3DMG after being offered the chance as a kid. Levi stood firm on his decision. No. It was a firm no for months. Adrien was going to have a normal childhood, playing sports with his classmates and eating lunches packed by his mother. Levi had moved across the globe for his family to live without war, his family by blood and the one he made along the way.

The door slammed, surprising him. The family dog rushed to bark at the sound.

"Addy? You okay, kiddo?" Gabi asked, as they were still living with them. Hearing his son's name, Levi got up and walked as fast as his injuries allowed. It was too early for Adrien to be back from school. Also, Levi was the one who usually picked him up.

Wobbling, he reached the bedroom door, which was unusually closed. Even before he reached it, his heart began to ache as he could hear his 7-year-old boy's muffled cries. Adrien's chubby legs dangled from the edge of his bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"Oi, oi, oi," Levi said softly as he reached the bed and tried to gently push Adrien’s shoulder to the side to see his face. Adrien resisted. "Kid, what happened? Why are you back from school?"

Levi's mind raced, searching for injuries, any sign of hurt. Trying to come up with reasons, his brain was haunted by his baby’s endless tears.

"They kicked me off the team," Adrien finally managed to say between sobs. "The mothers complained that it’s not fair that I play."

Levi's heart sank. It had been hard for Adrien to make friends as a kid from another country, and he was obsessed with baseball since being allowed to join the team. He loved having a group of friends.

"I hate it, I hate it!" Adrien's soul-breaking cries echoed as his young mind couldn't comprehend the reasons. "Why can't I be normal?"

Levi forced himself out of his shock, slightly shaking his head to clear his mind. "Don’t say that. You’re normal. I'll talk to your teachers-"

Talking had never been his strength. He wished his wife was home.

“No, I’m not! All my friends look at me weirdly! Nobody wants to play with me anymore!” Adrien screamed at the top of his lungs. The frustration of his father not understanding only added salt to the wound. “I hate it!”

“No, Adrien—I'll talk—”

“I hate being an Ackerman!”

Levi felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart. White noise filled his head, merging with the sound of his son’s cries. Levi argued with himself that it shouldn’t have hurt as deeply as it did. “He’s just a kid who wants to play with the others,” he thought, remembering all the arguments he’d had with sports teams.

“It’s just not fair to the other kids, Mr. Ackerman.”

‘Next time, just point to my head,’ he thought bitterly. Watching his son sit on the benches with doe-like red eyes, trying to hold back tears at school, haunted Levi. He had come to pick him up and was forced to stay behind while the rest of the team practiced.

Falco and Gabi tried to play with him when they had free time, but they had their own responsibilities. Levi himself tried to play with Adrien as much as his injured leg allowed, but how fun could a one-on-one game be?

For many months, Levi refused to let Adrien take special training offered by the government. He knew they only saw his son as a potential new weapon.

“Daddy, did you see me? Did you see me?” Adrien’s face lit up with a smile that seemed too big for it, brimming with excitement after mastering a new 3DMG trick.

“Mm-hmm,” Levi hummed in approval, watching his son with a mix of pride and concern.

“He’s a prodigy, sir,” the female soldier standing next to him remarked. “You must be such a proud father.”

Levi’s death stare could hardly be disguised as he clenched his teeth. ‘This is wrong,’ he thought, but his hand, missing two fingers, reached for the Polaroid camera and took a picture. ‘It can’t be that wrong… if he’s smiling like this.’

“And then I twist! And then I jump! And then I—” Adrien rambled on excitedly at the dinner table.

“Addy, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Y/N gently reprimanded him, but he continued to beam, bright and cheerful, happy.

If teaching his boy everything he knew about 3DMG made him smile again, then perhaps it was worth it. He did it for his baby, only for his baby.

Adrien had grown into a moody teenager who now stole his car and rarely talked to Levi without an attitude. Levi wasn’t usually the melancholic type, but he missed the days when he was greeted at home with tight hugs and dreamy eyes.

Now, the war was getting closer to home. Paradise, untouched during the Rumbling, was growing increasingly tense. The Jaegerists wanted to finish what Eren had started, and the new regime wasn’t open to negotiation. They demanded blood; they demanded fire.

Admiring his reflection in the mirror, Levi noted how tired he looked. Time was unforgiving. He spotted several grey hairs among what used to be pristine raven locks. History seemed to be repeating itself, and sometimes he felt like he had fought for nothing. Small towns that were slowly rebuilding after the Rumbling were falling under the power of an island he had once defended with his blood and sweat.

The tie felt tight around his neck as he adjusted the bow tie. He had been asked—almost forced—to attend a charity event to raise funds for displaced refugees and military forces. They had declared war only a few months ago, and he felt strangely hopeless. “I’m just old,” he whispered to himself.

“Hey…”

Levi turned to his left to see his 16-year-old son leaning against the door frame with folded arms.

“Hey,” Levi greeted back cautiously. “I’ve no money,” he added quickly, the interaction feeling odd since Adrien rarely came into the couple’s bedroom, much less to talk to him.

Adrien rolled his eyes so dramatically Levi thought he might tear a muscle. “I wasn’t going to ask for anything!”

The teenager walked in and sat down on the bed, petting the cat. His long face and distant, translucent eyes were hard to ignore. Levi watched him for a while before turning back to the mirror to continue getting ready. The silence was so heavy it felt like breathing steam from the Colossal Titan.

After several minutes, Adrien's voice broke the silence, trembling with emotion. “You… you know I love you, Dad, right?”

Levi turned around, frowning deeply. “… What did you do?” he asked instinctively.

“Nothing!” Adrien's defensive tone only made him more suspicious.

“You got a chick knocked up?” Levi guessed quietly.

“W-what?!” Adrien’s face turned beet red with embarrassment. “NO!”

“What—”

“NOTHING! I did nothing!” Adrien protested, jumping up from the bed and heading for the door. “I’m never saying it again, you old man!”

The door slammed, and Levi clenched his teeth. The mood swings were something he wasn’t used to, no matter how hard he tried. Levi clicked his tongue. ‘What’s gotten into him lately?’

That was the issue; everything had been slightly off. Not enough to raise serious concerns, but as Levi walked downstairs to leave for the event, his mind kept replaying the scene in their bedroom. ‘Something smells off.’

‘I may be getting fucking old, but I’m not crazy.’

“He’s trying to grow up. Let’s show him that we trust him. Let’s give him some freedom, as long as he respects the curfew,” Y/N had tried to explain that shutting their son off wasn’t going to help.

Adrien’s insistence on coming home on his own… Levi had always driven him to and from school, especially since the school was quite far away by public transport. After the photo incident, Levi didn’t feel it was safe for his kid to walk back alone.

The front page of the newspaper had been missing the day his boy’s picture and the Paradise headline appeared:

“The Ackerman’s Cub: As Harmless as a Pussycat.”

Levi cursed at the memory, yanking his coat from the hanger by the door. Arms in—

It was too big.

He looked down at the sleeves, which hung past his hands. A part of his ego cracked a little—it was his son’s coat. His baby boy was growing non-stop, now 193 cm tall.

“Soon, he won’t fit through the damn door,” Levi muttered, half offended, half endeared. He wondered if he would have grown that tall if he hadn’t suffered so much as a child. “He truly inherited Kenny’s height,” his wife would say as their kid grew taller and taller.

Putting on his own coat—it was freezing outside—Levi sat in his car, but his mind kept circling back to it.

Adrien arriving late by only 10-15 minutes. His recent attitude wasn’t just typical teenage sulkiness; it was different. Adrien was distant but not moody.

Already at the party, Onyankopon, Falco, Gabi, and Y/N were talking around him, but Levi wasn’t there, at least not mentally. Call it the universe, call it signs, call it his Ackerman instincts. Call it what you want. But Levi knew something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, fragments of memories from the past month flashed through his mind. They hadn’t seemed suspicious at the time, just slightly unusual. Like that moment when he picked up something from Y/N’s boudoir table and got pricked by a needle.

“Ow,” he muttered, though it didn’t really hurt.

“Oh, I left a needle out? I thought I put it away,” she said innocently, placing it back in the sewing box.

Or when he was walking down the upper floor’s hall and noticed the string hanging from the attic hatch swaying. “Y/N, did you go to the attic?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing…” He meant to ask Adrien about it but got distracted by the teen blasting his record player.

Levi opened the door without knocking. He had warned Adrien to keep the door open multiple times. The teenager quickly turned down the rock music. “Hey!” Adrien complained, but Levi didn’t care.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep the volume down? I’m half-blind; don’t make me deaf too,” Levi ordered. Before leaving, he added, “And get your shoes off the bed.”

Levi’s leg tapped against the floor uneasily. Something was not right. The silence of his brain seeking a logical explanation was becoming deafening. His wife squeezed his arm, drawing his attention.

“Captain Ackerman,” a man approached them, bowing slightly out of respect. Levi’s days as a captain were long gone, but he never lost the title in the eyes of some. “It’s an honor…”

The man’s hands fidgeted nervously as a timid smile appeared on his face. He pressed his lips together, wet them, and then opened them as if trying to find the right words. “It must fill your heart with pride that you and your family stood up in such a difficult situation and did the right thing. As a representative of the Eldian community outside Paradise, we don’t stand with the Jaegerist decisions—”

Levi dismissed him quickly. “No need to praise me,” he cut in, anticipating the man’s gratitude for his role in the fight against Eren during the Rumbling. “I fought for what I believed was right.”

The man’s face twisted in confusion. “No—I…” he stammered, his previous uneasiness turning to confusion. “I wanted to thank you and acknowledge your family’s altruistic action.”

“No need—”

“I mean, it must be an honor but also extremely hard for you as a father to allow your son to volunteer for the front lines.”

It hit Levi like a thunder spear, just as the one he had once used against Zeke. As if the explosion had gone off right next to him, and he could only hear the ringing in his ears. Y/N’s grip on his arm loosened in shock before her nails dug in as the realization sank in.

Despite his Ackerman powers, Levi felt control over his body slip away as his legs shook. It felt impossible to breathe as he drove back home as fast as he could, but it surely felt as if his lungs caught no oxygen.

He slammed the door open, his injured leg giving way as he rushed upstairs to his son’s bedroom. Pain fading into nothing as it once did during the war. The white noise in his brain was shattered by Y/N’s piercing scream when they found the bedroom empty, except for a single paper note on the made bed. Falco held Y/N as she broke down in tears.

Levi’s face remained expressionless, but it felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. Holding the note in his hands, he sank onto the mattress. The bed where he had once read Mother Goose stories.

“I’m sorry… I just couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

P.S. Sorry for the coat.”

His baby, his baby boy. The mere thought of Adrien witnessing even half of what he had as a soldier brought tears to Levi’s eyes, a knot forming in his throat. His child, stolen from his arms, dragged into the chaos like pigs to a slaughterhouse. Everything Levi had fought for, everything he had done…

If only he hadn’t used that thunder spear, he would be as good as new. He would have fought a thousand wars and led a thousand more just to keep his baby safe at home. To wake up to Y/N making his favorite waffles on a lazy Sunday morning.

It should have been him. He should have been in better shape. If only—

After a few days, Levi understood what Adrien meant about the coat in the note. His lost eyes fixed on the piece of clothing that had been cut. His old scout’s jacket, stored in the attic, had been altered. Adrien must have cut and sewn the Wings of Freedom patch onto something else. The house had become a cemetery since the day Adrien left. Y/N hadn’t been able to sleep soundly as she usually did, waking at the slightest sound.

“I thought I heard the front door,” she said, as Levi tried to calm her down in the middle of the night.

Levi hated rock music; he found it too noisy. But one afternoon, he felt compelled to put on one of Adrien’s records. Each second felt like it was squeezing the life out of him.

As the days passed, the missing front page of the newspaper became a sign enough. The news arrived loudly at their home.

“Undaunted. As the higher-ranks abandoned the zone, giving up the strategic petrol supply, Adrien Ackerman held the front lines and won.

A kid worth an entire army, honoring his name.”

Levi’s eyes scanned the paragraphs without emotion. “While all wore the same uniform, Ackerman decided to stick a striking patch to his. ‘They called me powerless, so I made myself an easy target. If they want to come for me, let them come, and I’ll put up a fight,’” the article quoted Adrien.

A scoff escaped Levi’s lips; he had surely inherited his temper.

“I cut and stuck the article to my locker to remind myself who I have to show their place,” Adrien replied when asked about the Paradise press’s coverage.

“LEVI!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the house. He rushed to her side with worry, only to find her smiling softly and sobbing as she watched the black-and-white TV.

The screen showed his baby boy, his comrades ruffling his hair, beer bottles flying in celebration, and citizens offering him drinks. They hadn’t won the war, but it was clear this victory was much needed to lift their spirits. People looked at Adrien with starry eyes, much like they had looked at Levi after their first wins against the Titans.

Levi’s lips trembled as he bit the inside of his cheeks, trying to hold his composure.

“He’s alright,” Y/N whispered, slightly relieved. “God, he got your knack for giving me a heart attack.”

She tried to joke, but noticing her husband’s silence, she turned around. “Oh… Lev…” she sighed, quickly moving to hug him tightly.

Tears streamed down Levi’s cheeks as he watched his baby on the screen, basking in the attention and hope he gave to others. They hadn’t won the war, but for now, it was enough.

“We knew deep down we couldn’t shelter him forever,” Y/N said, caressing him. She understood the weight now on Adrien’s shoulders, responsibilities that had haunted Levi for many years. She sighed, making peace with herself. A part of her had known from the moment she gave birth to an Ackerman that this day would come.

However, through watery eyes, Levi saw something different. Watching the young man on the screen, Levi whispered with a broken voice the same words he had said when Adrien was born.

“He got your smile.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[magicdustsworld]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Returning home via a road trip sounded good until your car had to run out of gas. With little choices and a lot of compromises, you and your boyfriend decided to crash in a cheap motel for one night. It wasn't your fault that things got a little heated. No one will know, right? Right?

Tropes: Explicit smut, not an established relationship

Warnings: Profanity, fingering, nipple play, protected sex (not b/w main leads), voyeurism, masturbation, ejaculation, nonconsensual videography, implications of blackmail, modern AU, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 2.8k

Event: my work for @/levievent under the prompt of day 2 - voyeurism.

A/N: Will be posting on Ao3 soon + I only have two hours before I actually have to wake up for school hjshjs bye gotta go sleep! Hope you enjoy <3

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

Five? Six? Or has it been Seven?

The humid breeze wisped through your hair as your boyfriend drove down the highway. You perched your elbow over the window ledge, face nestled into your palm as you absentmindedly drummed your fingers over your cheekbone. You checked your watch – 16:27. Time seemed to crawl, dragging itself and so did it drag your irritation which ascended like a straight line graph. The scowl played on your lips and you didn’t bother hiding it from your partner. Least interested. Why should you even do that in the first place? He was the reason for it, after all.

The car revved through the forlorn road, occasionally you’d get a glimpse of a shepherd or two as they returned to their homes with their flock of sheep. Given, the sun was setting down, coating the very grasslands and farms with its hues, the mild heat burnt your skin yet it wasn’t anything too sharp. Rather it was proving to be your solace from the palpable tension strewing in the vehicle.

“Just an hour more,” His voice reached your ears over the buzzing of the radio. “We’ll reach there before you know it.”

You merely hummed at that, keeping your attention strictly on the sprawling grasslands that stretched miles over the horizon.

However, your lack of response caused him to let out a frustrated groan, “How long are you going to keep up that bitchy attitude?”

“As long as I want.”

Obviously, he didn’t take that kindly-vexation flaring in his veins. “For Fuck’s sake,” He cursed. “What are you even so god damn upset about? I said we’ll be in Paradis soon enough.”

“I don’t know, Eren.” You snapped back. “Maybe it’s because we would’ve been in Paradis by now if you weren’t fucking reckless.”

“Me? I was reckless?” He scoffed, voice dripping with disdain. “We had to start off an hour late because of you and now you have the fucking audacity to put the fucking blame on me?”

“You didn’t have to breach the speed limit for that. Was it fun to get stuck in the station for two hours? And a ticket on top of that?” You rolled your eyes. “Buy one get one free, how delightful!”

“That’d only be a case of five minutes if the officers weren’t-”

“Don’t you dare start with your speech on our miserable government now, it pisses me off.”

Green eyes blazed with fury as he glared at you and you glared back with an equal fervour. The staring contest only served to heighten the chasm of agitation that dripped from you both. Until, both of you broke it off with a derisive huff-turning your individual attentions away from each other.

Spending a week in Marley with your boyfriend had been lucrative. Considering you were able to catch up with a few of your friends during the, albeit short vacation had you more jubilant than ever until... this day. Returning to Paradis via a road trip sounded good, exciting even, until it was put to practice. With each atrocious situations both of you found yourself in since the break of dawn, only made this journey unbearable.

Ten minutes further into the drive, the revving of the car engine was the only sound that cut through the cold war; until that happened to be a distant memory. The vehicle slowed down gradually, friction and the coarse road causing it to sputter and eventually come to halt on the desolate road.

You blinked. So did Eren. A second passed in silence until he spoke.

“Out of gas.”

A smile stretched on your lips, “Perfect.”

.

Amidst the darkened night sky, the neon red name of the motel stood out – The Ackerman’s.

After the car had ran out of gas, both of you had to walk three kilometres in the highway until reaching a site where at least civilized humans resided. You and Eren for the first time today, could agree that being stranded in the middle of nowhere would be more precarious than it showed itself to be. Besides, both of you had taken the highway which crossed the farmlands. Hardly any car would drive by that can offer both of you a lift and asking help from the locals was out of the question. Neither of you were psychics to know who might harbour ill intentions and who wouldn’t. Left with little options, a quick google search had you aware of a cheap motel only kilometres away. With a three point five star rating, it seemed to be a decent place to crash in for just a night.

Entering the motel, you were greeted with a small lobby comprising of a reception desk, a staircase which presumably was for the rooms above, and a door which had a hanging sign of staff only. The carpet underneath your boots appeared thin and frayed on the edges. Desk made of cheap laminate, an old computer rested on it with a file and a few pen stocked in a holder. Although, an air of loneliness surrounded the area, you couldn’t help but find how all of it was unbelievably clean.

“No one’s here?” Eren questioned, walking over to the reception desk – eyes searching for any semblance of life.

You sighed, stretching your arms and twisting your torso to get rid of all the pent up tension. “Seems so.”

“Seems not.”

On cue, a grave voice reached your ears. Rotating on your heels, you encountered him—a man who appeared a few years older. Dark hair styled in an undercut with bangs cascading over his forehead, sharp features and a poker look marked his mien. He held a teacup, quite literally on his fingertips, eyes lingering on you for a second before he strolled over to the reception.

The brief moment when he side past you, had you keenly aware of two facts. First, he’s shorter than an average man. Second, he’s hotter than an average man.

He plopped himself on the chair across the desk, keeping his tea cup down. Turning on the computer, he asked, “Room for two?”

“Room for two.” Eren answered.

He kept his eyes on the screen, the clicks of the mouse reverberating. “Night or hours?”

Eren blinked. “What?”

“Charges.” He clarified. “Should I charge you by a night or hour?”

“What’s the difference?”

“15 dollars for an hour each and 150 for a night.”

You could see how Eren’s lips twisted into a frown as if both the prices hurt his soul on a personal level. After a moment of contemplation, he answered, “One night.”

The man nodded, continuing the process of registration. After a five minute delay which consisted of filling in details such as name, phone number and asking for ID, Eren received the key. Opening a file, he pointed to the bottom right corner, “Sign it.” Eren complied without much of a thought. After he was done, the man’s eyes flickered to you. “You too.”

Therefore, you complied too.

.

The room was far from ideal.

A makeshift double bed with a nightstand, two chairs for lounging, a box TV, and an attached bathroom which you didn’t bother to check. The walls were dull yet a flair of lime scented disinfectant lingered in the air proving the room to have been recently cleaned. Honestly, with the amount the man down the reception was charging, this was literally the bare minimum. Or maybe not.

“I should’ve asked him if he had any spare gas.” Eren grumbled, pushing your bags to one corner of the room.

“Tomorrow you can,” You muttered, taking off your socks as you hummed the music of a distant song softly. Not letting yourself ponder on the negativities as much, you laid down on the bed. Enough had happened today, you didn’t need a reminder or to know any more what ifs of the situation. A sign of utter relief left your lips as soon as your body made contact with the sheets. Achieving one night’s peace in this atrocity is more than enough.

Eren, however, had other plans in mind.

Like you, he made himself comfortable on the bed as well.

“Did that bitch finally get off your shoulders?”

That caused a twist of your lips, “Nope, she’s still here.”

“Sure.” His deep voice rang in your ears and you were painfully aware of your proximity. “Wonder how she’s going to get off then?”

“Well, I don’t know,” You mused, turning your body towards him. His turquoise eyes sparkled with an underlying idea for the situation. An idea you loved. A ghost of a smirk curved on the corner of his lips and you didn’t deter from trailing your well-manicured nail down his chiselled jaw. “You tell me.”

The suggestiveness of the act didn’t elude him.

A second later, both of you were locking lips.

.

Levi hated his job.

No, he wasn’t a god damn receptionist. He was the owner of this motel – a legacy or more like a burden passed to him by his only, late relative, Kenny. And shitty Kenny had some fucked up fantasies swivelling in his head and that’s why he just happened to put up CCTV in the rooms. That was enough for him to lose any sort of respect he harboured for the man until he the reasons for his relatives depravity was laid bare before him.

The story goes like this:

Apparently, his uncle had some pals from the secret police department of Paradis and those fuckers were tracking some hefty politician who went by the name of Rod Reiss. The latter was responsible for smuggling armament and carbines to Marley – the information to the police forces by one of the members of his smuggle party. The catch? Arresting Rod wasn’t a child’s play. From the vague news, the police were sure of one thing – the deals happened in low and cheap motels like these. Hence, to catch the bastard red handed, the forces reached out to Kenny who was the, then owner, of this motel. Kenny was more than ready to get his hands dirty as if he got a thrill out of expeditions such. Ensuing miniscule cameras in the few rooms had done the job. Of course, Rod was arrested. Of course, Kenny spat on his face.

Of course, Levi was annoyed to hell when he first encountered footages he didn’t wish to encounter.

Nevertheless, that tale had unfolded long ago and Kenny hadn’t got rid of the cameras. As for Levi, he was least bothered to what happened in the rooms. Therefore, he didn’t deactivate them either.

Never will the devices prove useful to Levi. Or so he thought.

Barely dressed in a pair of black lingerie, the thin material did little to contain your perky breasts and your hardened nipples poked the fabric as Eren palmed you through your underwear. You breathily moaned while his mouth was pressed on yours in a heated kiss.

Levi’s fingers twinged ever so slightly as he watched the open pornopraphy on his personal computer screen. In the privacy of his room, he wasn’t doing very good breaching his customer’s privacy. Well, he could care less about that. In his defence, he couldn’t help his cock from straining in his briefs when the straps of your bra slid down your shoulders revealing a tantalizing pair of tits. Throat began to dry up as soon as your boyfriend pulled down you’re the last garment on your body.

Slick ran down your pussy, and Eren wasted no second in plunging two of his fingers inside your soaking cunt. Your back arched almost involuntarily, the need to feel any sort of friction increasing by second. He curled his digits inside you, velvet walls clamping at the intruder and the lubrication only made it easier for him to twist and toy with your needy cunt.

It was as if Levi’s body had a mind on its own as the next event unfolded. Spreading his legs wide, he reached down to grasp the painful bulge. That provided little relief. He bet you tasted just as much intoxicating akin to the whiff of your perfume he caught – the first thing he noticed about you.

Eren bend down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue on the areolas while he fondled with the other tit. His touch igniting a hoard of sensations on your body as your toes curled with your head thrown back. He rubbed circles over your clit, the ridges of his knuckled brushed against your pussy lips making it almost impossible for you to keep your voice low.

Shit! Unbuckling his belt, Levi pulled down his briefs – freeing his cock from cage. He grasped it by the base, blood rushing in the veins pulsated against the creases of his palm. “Ah- fuck!” He cursed under his breath, already feeling the precum ooze from his tip.

A sinfully loud whine left your mouth as Eren retracted his finger from your dripping folds. You buckled your hips, trying to press your legs together for the just any amount of touch but he managed to keep your legs spread wide for him.

“Patience baby,” Eren smirked, discarding his briefs as he pushed you further on the bed. Grabbing a condom from his trousers, he tore it open with his teeth before putting it over his length. He spat into his hands, pumping his entire length a few times before positioning himself on your entrance, “Ready baby?”

You nodded and he shoved himself inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Levi cursed out loud, stroking his entire length with an intensity and fervour even unseen by him. The hormones flowed in his veins ceremoniously and violent, a sheen of sweat was forming over his forehead, some dripping to his cheeks from his bangs. His mouth was wide open as he watched the erotegenic display between you and your boyfriend. His swollen cock rested against his hand which was busy in providing it with its much needed gratification. He could hear your wanton moans from his earphones; each moan of yours incited a groan from him.

Your legs quivered as Eren placed your limbs over his shoulders, causing him to reach deeper inside your cavern. His tip rubbed against your g-spot and you rolled your eyes back, the orgasm building up with each of his heavenly thrusts as he swayed your body like a sex doll. Your perky breasts jostled with each thrust of his hips, sweat glistening over the skin while he continued to grind his hips against yours. Quite literally. He wasn’t even pulling out at one point just setting a pace to create a narrow friction and he continued to sputter absolute filth down your ears.

The live porn only coaxed Levi into building his orgasm as he stroked his cock quicker than the last time. Vehemently, he circled his thumb over the swollen tip – almost crying out loud at the sudden increase of pleasure shooting in his abdomens. He gritted his teeth while he watched just how you were digging your nails on Eren’s back, chanting his name like a mantra. You were just being fucked stupid on screen and he was rendering himself stupid while he fist fucked his shaft.

Eren reached down to pinch your enlarged clit and that was all it took – you yelled his name, so loud so clear that someone can just hear you if they listen close enough. The pleasure washed over you like a tide while you squeezed your eyes shut letting the orgasm wear off. Eren continued to grind into you following suit as he burst his seed inside the sheath before pulling out of you.

As for Levi, he was sure he could hear your shriek down to his room even without the headphones. He threw his head back, eyes squinting shut as he felt himself reaching his climax – coating his fingers with his hot release. From the ear piece he could hear the muffled conversations and ragged breathing between you and your boy toy. After giving himself a minute of rest, he detached the cord of his computer from the point. Looking down at the mess he created, a disgustful scowl made itself etch on his mien.

He clicked his tongue, “Fuck! I am filthy.”

.

Fortunately, Eren was able to get some spare gas from the man in the reception. It may only be a trick of mind but did the latter rest his eyes on you more than a second longer?

Nevertheless, you reached home safely.

.

Six days later, you received a parcel.

A small brown cardboard box, precisely taped and packed when it reached your door. Unknown sender. You were contemplating that if you had received someone else’s parcel. However, curiosity got the best of you and opening the package, you were greeted with a black pendrive.

Plugging it in your laptop, you clicked the only video file it had.

One minute in the said video and your blood ran cold.

Two minutes in the said video and you were hysterically crying.

Completed with the said video, a text popped up.

Thank you for spending one night at the Ackerman’s.

See you soon.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Yeah that's totally fine sorry for not being more specific. Can I have jean, eren armin mikasa and bertholdt saving the reader from like a titan or something thanks. ( you can cut mikasa and/or eren if that's to many people for you)

a/n: i’m so so sorry this took so long. this has been in my inbox forever & i hope you’re still around, anon.

jean saves you

it was a warm night, tonight. you and jean had decided to take a late night stroll, enjoying the cool breeze and each others company. you were both oblivious to the gaping hole in wall maria.

you were laughing and joking with jean about something eren had said earlier. jean didn’t think it was all that funny but tolerated it for the sake of being in your company.

“you’re just a little hotheaded,” you laughed, pinching your thumb and pointer finger close enough to touch.

“did you hear that?” jean asked, his voice falling to a whisper.

“that’s not funny, jean.” you said sternly.

“seriously, Y/N. shut up for a second.” he hissed. he throws his right arm out in front of your chest, preventing you from taking one step further.

as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw it. the unmistakable foot of a titan.

your legs frozen in fear, you looked over at jean. a blank expression was on his face which was all drained of color.

it was quiet to the point where you could hear it’s breath. you could feel the warm humidity settle on your face.

in a fleeting moment of bravery, his hand wrapped around your wrist. and jean ran like hell, dragging you with him. your legs could barely keep up with his.

eventually, you reached the dorms where jean practically threw you inside. he alerted his comrades and they all begin to get their gear in a hurry to slay however many titans might be lurking within the walls.

he stopped you halfway through buckling your straps up. “no,” he said, “it’s too dark. i’ll be damned if i let you out there.”

jean wouldn’t hear another word from you as he ran through the door and into the darkness.

eren saves you

eren, now in possession of the attack and founding titan, waged a war in marley. through the chaos of it all, his goal seemed to be taking the war hammer titan’s power. you were stationed on the ground in marley, thanks to the call of the commander. it was a stupid plan but a sacrifice you were willing to make if it meant the safe return of eren.

levi and hange knew it was risky, sending you down there alone but you were the only one willing to die. you accepted long ago you’d die out on a mission and in terms of them, this seemed like a good one to go out on.

with your feet on the ground, you knew you had to act now. you needed to get the war hammers or the jaw’s attention so eren could proceed with his goal. you settled on the jaw, having a bit more familiarity with the titan because of ymir.

getting its attention was easy. running was the hard part. in the midst of everything, it went right over your head that the jaw would be near impossible to escape.

your odm gear could only carry you so fast. sweat dripped down your face in fear. you were so ready to die, weren’t you? why were you fighting it now?

a final attempt. you spin around, facing the titan and its’ teeth. flashy white teeth that would send you to your death. this is what you became a scout for.

you drew your blades, prepared to fight.

but you didn’t have to.

eren’s titan let out a roar that shook the earth. with a quick swoop, he grabbed the jaw in mid air as it leaped towards you. the attack titan held your gaze as you thanked eren over and over in your head. you hoped he could hear you.

armin saves you

in paradis, there were humans and there were titans. everything else was irrelevant. of humans, there were civilians and there were scouts. you, following your friends into the survey corps, were a scout. a terrified little girl but a scout, nonetheless.

the day you were pursuing the female titan, you had fallen out of rank. a few abnormals had pushed you further and further away from your comrades. but you had no choice, if you wanted to live, you had to abandon them.

your horse was fast enough to allude them until in a moment of fear, it bucked you off. your steed fled quickly, leaving you to your legs as a means of transportation.

what’s worse is you were in an open field, no trees to grapple onto. you would have to use the titan as an anchor if you were going to slay it.

zipping up, you launched a hook into it’s neck. sending you, it smacks you down. you had quick reflexes, hooking down into the ground and zipping back down instead of tumbling down.

how were you supposed to reach the nape of an abnormal?

a faint galloping sound reaches your ears, alerting you of a comrades presence. armin arlert.

armin showed up with his own horse and a spare. leaping up from his own horse, he flies by the titan, cutting the muscles in the back of the knees. the titan drops down giving you time to pull yourself up onto the mare.

riding back, you yell over at him, “you came back for me?”

“of course!”

bertholdt saves you

“shit,” bertholdt murmured from a branch as he saw you coming up over the horizon.

bertholdt and reiner had just taken ymir and eren. and you were damned if you weren’t going to do anything about it. your commanders told you to leave it alone but you just couldn’t. eren and ymir were your friends, dammit, and you were going to get them back.

you didn’t know you were riding into a death trap until it was too late.

titans gnawed and clawed at the tree the warriors were holed up on. you saw the cluster of them just as they had heard your horse’s hooves hitting the ground.

quickly losing interest in the people above them, the titans turned towards you. and eren and ymir wouldn’t be any help, knowing the condition they’re in.

could you turn back? you’d risk luring a group of ten, maybe fifteen, titans back to your squad. they’d handle it, right? you didn’t want to find out, instead, you charged forward relying on the trees to give you some relief.

“shit!” bertholdt repeated more urgently once he saw you continue heading forward. with the knowledge that the titans were learning to climb, he forgot he was a warrior.

“bert, don’t!” reiner threatened.

in this moment, he was a solider coming down to save you. he didn’t care about the details, he’d figure that out later. as long as you were safe, that’s all he cared about.

and he did save you. he used the titans as landmarks to grapple his way to you, lift you off the horse and back up into the tree tops.

you were safe, but at what cost?

mikasa saves you

it’s always been said that mikasa was an army of soldiers shoved into a teenage girl and while you never doubted it, you witnessed something that would make even the most sexist man bow down to her. with the fury of all her ancestors, she saved you from a death you had thought was inevitable.

stupidly, you had gotten yourself pinned against a tree. worse, you had gotten yourself pinned against a tree with empty gas canisters. your odm gear was useless and there were no low hanging branches to try to climb up.

three large titans loomed above you, nearly salivating at the thought of their next meal. their teeth were giant and captivating. it was all you could look at as they started to close in, and you could picture yourself stuck between their two front teeth. you would forever be a remnant of their latest snack until their greedy tongues would finish you off and swallow what’s left.

your back was pressed even more firmly against the wood. it hurt. could you run for it? were you able to run fast enough that you could dart between their legs without one of them grabbing you?

it didn’t matter anyway. fast enough or not, your legs refused to move. frozen in fear, you picked neither flight or fight.

a scream of feminine rage stopped the giants and pulled their attention away from you. you could have used the distraction to make a quick get away but still, your feet were glued to the ground.

she was quick, mikasa. she was fast enough to where the only thing you saw were silver blades reflecting the sun, zooming through the air. and as she moved further, each of the three titans dropped one after another. they fell like giant columns and the sound when they hit the ground was loud. the earth shook with their death.

it was no sweat to her. the look in her eyes told you she’d do this over and over again until she couldn’t no more. she was a cold blooded killer and she saved your life that day.

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [THE INBETWEEN] - IN LOVING MEMORY

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[2.9k] A week after John B and Sarah were lost at sea, you and JJ navigate a new living situation and unsuccessfully avoid the inevitable grief process, leading to a private memorial as you honor a fallen brother.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, grief avoidance

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I think these little 3-chapter pauses between each season are gonna be my favorite things because it focuses sooo much more on just TR and JJ <3 but this first one really focuses on their grief over John B

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

IT’D BEEN A WEEK SINCE JOHN B AND SARAH DISAPPEARED. Shoupe said that the department wasn’t calling the search off just yet but you knew they weren’t looking. There’d been no updates, no boats out on the water — it was as if the entire station had retired. 

Metal clanked against wood as JJ set the wrench down on the work table — music playing lowly in the background as the blonde worked on your car. The two of you were in John B’s Surf Shack at The Chateau, the car halfway pulled in so JJ could work outside of the heat, but the sun was relentless. The hood was flipped up as the boy inspected and toyed with the parts — sweat dripping down his forehead from his damp strands of hair, shirt long abandoned as he stood only in a pair of army green cargo shorts and his signature worn-down, unlaced combat boots, shark tooth dangling from his neck.

“Are you gonna keep staring or do you wanna help?” JJ asked, leaning his hands on the exterior of the car, eyes squinting from the sun as he looked up at your figure that was sitting on top of the worktable, feet swinging as you watched him.

“When I tried to help, you told me to, and I quote, ‘sit my unhelpful ass down somewhere’.” You reminded the boy, cocking your head as you took a sip of the beer you’d retrieved from the house. 

“Maybe because when I asked you to hand me the box end wrench and you handed me a pair of pliers?” He sassed back, standing from his leaned over position and walking closer to you, snatching up his own beer and taking a long swig. 

You shrugged. “Same difference.”

“Hate to break it to you, princess, but no it's not.” JJ chuckled, leaning against the work table. His eyes drifted down to where you were scratching your ankle as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I told you like ten times to stop scratchin’ it. It ain’t gonna help.” He reprimanded, setting the beer down and taking your ankle in his hands, leveling it in front of him.

You groaned as he swatted your hand away. “But it itches, so bad.” You whined. “Probably because you did it with a needle and pen ink.” You pouted, both of you inspecting the small, scraggly ‘P4L’ tattoo on your ankle. “How come yours doesn’t itch?” You asked, referring to the matching tattoo the blonde had done on himself.

“It does.” He told you, pulling out a small thing of vaseline from his shorts and scooping some up on one of his fingers. “I’m just not a pussy.” He joked, side-eyeing you as he gently applied the jelly over the artwork. 

Just then, Marley came running into the shack, almost knocking JJ off of his feet. You bursted out into a fit of laughter as the blonde steadied himself, staring down the dog. “You fuckin’ mutt…” He muttered, letting your leg swing back towards you gently. 

“Hey,” You warned, plucking his arm. “Watch it, or I’ll have her piss on your pillows.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He waved off, walking out of the shack and into the afternoon sun. "I'm takin' a breather from your piece of shit on wheels. That thing needs way more than TLC..." He told you over his shoulder. You quickly hopped off the table and followed after him, whistling for Marley to follow your lead.

"Don't blame my car because you have the skills of a mechanic from Craigslist." You defended as JJ led you all the way down to the boat pier behind The Chateau, both of you sitting down on the wood, kicking off your shoes to let your toes hit the water. Marley laid down behind you two.

He chuckled lightly before you fell into silence. That’d been happening a lot lately. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. In the week you and JJ had been learning to live together at The Chateau, you’d grown to just sit in silence with him. Quiet mornings, lazy nights. Neither of you had to speak or force a conversation — just bask in the company of one another, knowing you still had someone. 

There were days like this — where things seemed almost normal, but only for a moment. But then it was as if you’d both simultaneously realize that nothing was normal and it probably never would be ever again, that realization never failed to cast a cloud over the atmosphere.

John B was gone. He wasn’t on another marathon from DCS, he wasn’t out cleaning boats to keep the lights on at The Chateau — he was just gone. And something inside of you felt so empty. Ever since you were kids, toddlers, it was always you, John B, and JJ. And even when you made each other mad or sad, you always came back together in the end.

Now, it was just the two of you. Sure, you had Kie and Pope but that was different. John B was their friend too but there was a deeper grief that they couldn’t understand. But JJ could.

“You remember, in third grade, when John B asked out that girl and she told him no ‘cause he had cooties?” JJ asked, a small smile on his features as he stared down at the water. You laughed, shaking your head.

“And when he tried to hug her she screamed and the teacher gave him a lecture about consent.” You laughed, looking up at the sun. “But maybe he needed it. I remember after, he apologized and shook her hand instead.”

“She still wouldn’t go out with him, though.”

“You wanna know something funny?” You asked, turning to face him as he looked at you. “I ran into her when I moved to Figure Eight. She lives on the lower end now. It’s so crazy because she ended up getting chlamydia from some guy and then passed it to his best friend.”

“Holy shit.” JJ laughed loudly, his bright smile on full display. You wished to see his smile like that more often. JJ usually tried to seem happy and carefree, but it was a sight to see when it was genuine. As his laughter died out, he had a look of contemplation on his face.

You nudged his shoulder to gain his attention. “What're you thinkin' about?”

He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, eyes scanning your face. You didn’t know what for. Then he reached into the pocket of his shorts, hand fishing around for a moment before he pulled out something — a pastel green dog collar with a heart shaped named tag. He laid the object out in his grease covered palm and extended it over for you to see.

Your eyes fleeted between the collar and his face, a look of nervousness as he avoided your eyes. Taking it from his hand to hold in both of yours, you huffed out a laugh. There were ridges on the edges, as if the fabric of the collar had been hand-cut. “...Did you make this yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” He dismissed, scratching the back of his neck and attempting to seem nonchalant about the gesture. “I wasn't doing shit, got bored. If you, uh, if you turn it over-” You wasted no time, flipping the name tag to the other side, eyes landing first on the ‘if lost, please call…” note then drifting lower to see ‘P4L’ engraved in the metal beneath your phone number.

“Um, yeah that.” JJ finished. “It’s honestly nothing. It's fine if you think its stupid, I just figured-”

He never got to finish his nervous rambling as you pulled the boy into a hug. His arms staggered before hugging you back, going around your waist and almost pulling you into him. “Thank you.” You mumbled into his neck. "And it's not stupid. I love it." You could feel small tears leaving your eyes and making home on his sweaty skin, you just hoped he didn’t notice.

“Are you crying?” He asked, pulling back from the embrace and taking your face in his hands. “Oh, shit. Please, don’t cry.” He panicked, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks, leaving grease trails behind in their wake, the gesture making you chuckle sadly.

You don’t know what made you cry. You hadn’t cried in a full week. “Sorry, sorry...it's just that everything is so messed up.” You sniffed. “I wish I could go back to last year. Before my dad died, before all that shit with Rafe, before my mom became someone else, before John B...” You choked out, trying to remove your face from his hands but he wouldn’t let you. “If finding the gold means losing the only people I have left one by one, then fuck it.”

“We don’t know if he’s, y'know.. they’re still looking-”

“No, they’re not.” You scoffed. “They just don’t want to tell us that. Because if they do, they know we’ll start looking for ourselves and they’ll have four more dead kids on their hands.” You doubted, struggling to hold back more tears. JJ simply used his hold on your face to pull your head into him. Something about the gesture made you burst out into sobs, muffled by his chest. Most people would find such a genuine, serious gesture from JJ Maybank odd or rare. But in all your years of knowing him, JJ understood emotions better than most people, he just lacked the ability to show them sometimes.

He was there when they found your dad’s body, all of your friends were. The police only let you through because you were his daughter but when the wind blew the tarp off of his bloated, pale body, JJ was the only one who threw all caution to the wind and ducked under the caution tape, weaved through like ten police officers and caught you before you fell to your knees in the sand.

JJ was one of the most empathetic people you knew, but he’d never cater to his own needs as much as he did for others.

“I miss him, too.” He said solemnly, taking a shaky deep breath. “Believe me, man.” He scoffed, but his voice wavered prompting you to lift your head to look up at him, sniffling. “Bree was my brother. I can’t even tell you how many times he was just there for me. He got me out of a lot of shit and I always gave him shit for it. He would always tell me he just didn’t want me to end up like my piece of shit father and I was always such a dick about it. I knew it was because he cared but I…” He sighed, wiping the stray tear that had fallen from his eye with the butt of his palm. “I just wish I had been a better friend. I know I get us into a lot of shit and I’m impulsive and-”

“You were a good friend.” You cut off his monologue of martyrdom, sitting up straighter to look at him directly, using one hand to cup the back of his neck as you spoke. “John B loved you. Yeah, he might’ve gotten a little pissed whenever you got all trigger happy-” You joked, eliciting a small laugh from JJ. “-But he always understood that’s just who you are. He always cared about you all the same. He would’ve done anything for you.”

“And now he’s…shit, he’s gone.” He sniffed, wiping under his nose as he avoided your eyes, a frown on his face. “And I don’t have anyone like that anymore.”

“You have me.” You smiled pitifully. “I may not be a six-foot, brunette male who's oddly obsessed with bandanas but I think I can fill his spot. Make it work, somehow.” You joked playfully.

JJ scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah, you have your own spot.” He told you, his blue eyes finally finding the courage to meet yours again. “No one could replace Bree. Or you. You were the two people I never wanted to lose in life. And now he’s gone and I don’t know what I’m feeling or what the fuck to do about it because I’ve never felt it before. And sure, I want to fight for him and get the gold back but now I’m scared that that might mean we lose someone else and I don't know what I’ll do if the person we lose is you.”

You shook your head, pressing your forehead against his. “You’ll never lose me. Even if I’m not here.” You reminded, fingers scratching at the hair on the nape of his neck. “And even if John B is gone gone, he’s still here. Probably telling us to grow a pair, right now.” You chuckled despondently, both of you somewhere between laughing and crying.

All of a sudden, a wet, rough tongue hit the side of both of your faces — Marley apparently feeling left out from the exchange. The action had the two of you pulling apart, shielding your faces from the attack of dog kisses. She was like a light, her typical high energy making you feel just a little less sad inside. “Alright, alright…” You said, lightly pushing the dog back as she panted and wagged her tail so fast it made her whole body wiggle.

Just then, you realized you still had JJ’s gift clutched in your palm, peering at the object before beckoning Marley to come closer and commanding her to sit. She was still panting, mouth open and tongue out as you buckled the collar around her neck, adjusting it to fit and spinning it so the heart tag sat where it was supposed to, her name engraved in JJ’s handwriting.

As soon as your hands were off of her, she turned her attention to JJ, burying her head in his lap and rolling over on her back, wanting the blonde to rub her stomach. It was like she knew he’d made it for her.

“She must like you.” You said, voice a bit scratchy now. 

JJ shrugged, caressing the animal’s stomach with a small smile on his face. “I guess she’s alright.” He trailed off playfully. You admired them for a moment, the sight making your nerves settle in a way they hadn’t been able to in the last seven days.

For a moment, everything was calm. This was peace.

“Hey, JJ?” You piped up, the boy’s eyes leaving the dog as he looked at you in a questioning manner. “I know we’re waiting on Kie and Pope to actually memorialize JB but would you want to do something, just me and you? Not to leave them out or anything, I just thought we could, I don’t know, mourn him differently. He was a part of us.”

He pondered on the idea for a moment before nodding. “Yeah… yeah, I think he’d like that.”

You simply nodded in response, getting up from the dock to go into The Chateau, not even bothering to put your shoes back on. Entering the house, you looked around for something that sparked an idea on how you could honor John B. You spotted an empty glass bottle — write a note and send it out to sea? No. That didn’t seem right. 

Still looking around, your eyes found two tealight candles on the coffee table, untouched and never lit. You hadn’t recalled them being there before. Picking up the two candles in one hand, you headed back outside, the sun beginning to set and casting an orange hue over the water in front of you the closer you got to JJ and Marley.

Sitting back down, you handed one of the candles to JJ. “Just something small.” You told him, the blonde taking the small candle from you and reaching into his pocket to retrieve the lighter he typically carried with him. Marley had her head in his lap, less energetic than she was just minutes prior. Her big, puppy eyes just watched the two of you light the candles as the sun got lower in the sky by the minute.

“Should we, like, say something before we let them go?” JJ asked, eyes on you. 

“It’s up to you.” You shrugged. Just then, Marley got up from his lap, running through the grass and to the trees. You didn’t bother to chase her, she always came back.

JJ’s fingers of his free hand drummed on his thigh as he thought. When he finally had something, he shifted his weight and held the candle carefully in his hand. “To Bree.” He started, voice shaking. “My best friend, my brother, and the unluckiest guy I’ve ever met. I promise to not pimp your shortboard.” He said, looking at the flame swaying from side to side, before looking at you, waiting for you to say something.

Your nerves jumped a bit, not really knowing what to say. You figured something was better than nothing. “To John B. One of my greatest friends, my trauma twin, and the best DCS fugitive I’ve ever met.” You spoke, looking out at the sunset. 

“Love you, man.” JJ finished, reaching his long arm down to gently set the candle on top of the water, watching it slowly drift away. You followed his lead, having to bend down a bit further to let the candle hit the water safely. Both of you sat silently, watching the two miniscule flames drift further out with the waves. You wondered how far they would make it before they went out.

Suddenly, the patter of paws came running back, Marley wedging her way between the two of you with a stick between her teeth. The dog got dangerously close to the edge of the pier you were sitting on before letting the stick drop from her jaws and hit the water, sitting down between you and JJ as she panted.

You heard about cats leaving gifts for people of significance, maybe this was her version of a candle. The action made you and JJ look at each other before laughing and hugging the dog in sync. She reveled in the attention, tail wagging ferociously.

You and your friends had a long way to go before anything would feel okay again. But just having each other was enough, right now. You couldn’t rush grief. You’d just have to let things take their course and hopefully one day, John B wouldn’t be such a sad memory.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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©loveharlow.

[apollodarling-writes]

yan! reiner braun hcs

i can’t get enough of this man.

cws: yandere themes, slight worshipper themes, the two of you initially met as scouts, aot season 4 spoilers, spoilers in general, kidnapping, kinda all or nothing thinking, some pathetic reiner crumbs bc i love seeing him pathetic, can kinda be perceived as having some form of a personality disorder, forced starvation and dehydration, kinda dehumanization, slight housewife (gn though) vibes but he just wants you to be productive.

— yan! reiner braun who initially fell in love with you during your time in the scouts. he was absolutely enamored with you. you, with all your flaws and rough edges, have single-handedly made it infinitely harder for him to complete his mission.

— yan! reiner who loves when you tend to his wounds. it makes him feel more human, settling further into the delusion that he had always been a paradisian.

— yan! reiner who is constantly hovering around you after he’s come to terms with his feelings. he has to protect you… no, he needs to. no one can protect you but him.

— yan! reiner who ensures that you’re left with someone he knows will protect you when he has to carry out the phases of his mission before leaving to do so. reiner will also immediately look for you when he’s finished, checking you for injuries— big or small, he’ll patch them up with furrowed brows and a firm expression.

— yan! reiner who is a little creepy… and overbearing. when you’re training, he’s training you to protect yourself in a more efficient way. when you’re eating, he’s making sure you eat good, going as far as to give you a portion of his rations. when you have free time, he’s always itching to spend time with you. you almost never have a moment to yourself unless levi has you stationed elsewhere.

— yan! reiner who feels the need to protect you because he’s witness just how bad this world really is. he is the bad… but he can be everything you need if you’ll let him. he needs to be your everything.

— yan! reiner who values your opinion more than his own. he needs your validation and approval and kindness. he feels like a piece of shit already and he knows that you’ll hate him when he completes the final stage of his plan, but god does he need you. he needs you more than he needs air.

— yan! reiner who takes you back to his homeland. whether you’re screaming profanities at him, kicking or screaming, crying or begging for him to let you go… it’s futile in the end. he needs you. he can’t guarantee your protection if he’s away from you. he can’t live without you; you’re his rock.

— yan! reiner who pulls some strings to get you citizenship in marley. shortly after, the two of you are wed. naturally, his family and friends don’t attend since you’re a filthy island devil, but it’s enough for him to finally be marrying you.

— yan! reiner who will never touch you in any way you don’t want him to. he will always respect your bodily autonomy seeing as he already hates himself and views himself as a monster. he wouldn’t want to be even worse of a person to you. as for punishments… well, that’s a different ballgame.

— yan! reiner who, in a fit of anger, would scream at you. he’s done everything for you! he provides for you, he keeps you safe and well-fed, he has never touched you in any sexual manner (unless you’ve given him explicit consent)— he keeps you healthy and safe and you’ll never have to work again! but if you’ve been ungrateful and have been refusing his efforts, unfortunately he wont be able to be the man you want him to be.

— yan! reiner who corners you, roughly jerking you up by your hair and locking you in the basement. he’ll tell you that you can come out once you’ve learned your lesson. he’ll deliver the absolute bare minimum. a bucket to use the bathroom in, stale bread, and a glass of water every three days. how long you stay down there is up to you.

— yan! reiner who will slump against the basement door and sob. he feels awful, but he knows he can’t let you out. he can’t let you walk all over him. it’s even worse that he’s confirming your already terrible view on him.

— yan! reiner who grovels at your feet for forgiveness when you’re finally out of the basement. he’ll bathe you and murmur constant apologies, all while crying about how awful he feels about it. he’ll brush your hair out, wincing as you flinch, and turn around while you dress yourself.

— yan! reiner who will whip up a tasty meal for you, and if you’re unresponsive, feed you himself. he needs to make sure you’re getting the nutrients you need.

— yan! reiner who, if you lost a noticeable amount of weight while in the basement, gazes at you sadly. he’ll go out and purchase supplements for you to take while you recover and insist you stay in bed while he takes care of all the housework.

— yan! reiner who requires you to do things while he’s gone. he at least wants a warm meal when he comes home, and if the house isn’t in disarray it’s acceptable for him. he’ll help you with chores when he gets home— even if he’s exhausted and ready to collapse. he doesn’t want to place too much pressure on you, but he doesn’t want you succumbing to depression.

— yan! reiner who will press a kiss to your temple, forehead, or cheeks. if he’s feeling bold enough, he’ll press a chaste kiss to your lips.

— yan! reiner who will hold you sooo close to him when it’s time for bed. he needs to feel you against him because it helps him sleep. you bring him peace.

— yan! reiner who absolutely has to have physical contact with you when you accompany him to meet with the other warriors. he has to stake his claim. he has to make it known that you’re his, even if the silver band on your left hand speaks volumes.

— yan! reiner who absolutely adores you. he praises you every moment he can. he needs you to understand why he fell in love with you, how lovely you are, and how much he loves you.

— yan! reiner who just wants to love you and be loved in return. he feels like an asshole for ripping you away from everything you’ve ever known but he needs you.

[imjustasimpxd]

My Angel (Part Two)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : around 5, 200 words

Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

❗️Important Note❗️

There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))

“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.

“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.

“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.

What was Falco really up to?

Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.

Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.

But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.

With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.

Well, at least, not anymore.

He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.

In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.

So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?

It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.

So who on earth was he being forced to see?

“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.

From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.

The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?

Was this a trap he was walking into?

Should he leave?

Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.

If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.

Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.

Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.

However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.

“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”

Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?

Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?

The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.

He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.

“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.

Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.

“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”

That voice. Reiner knew that voice.

It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.

It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…

All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.

“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.

The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.

“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.

However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.

All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.

You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.

And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?

“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.

He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.

Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.

Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.

“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.

Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”

Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”

Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.

“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.

The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.

You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.

Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.

Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.

“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.

It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.

You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.

So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.

“Can you take off the hood?”

Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?

“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.

“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.

Nevertheless, you were persistent.

“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.

“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”

You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.

He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?

It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.

Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.

As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.

It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.

Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.

Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.

It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.

That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.

Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.

Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.

Who was this woman?

If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.

Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?

No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.

Was this… the product of his own making?

Was this… what he’d turned you into?

As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.

“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.

“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”

Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.

“Which friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.

To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.

The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.

“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.

“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.

Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”

Was that true?

If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?

Why he had to leave?

“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”

It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.

“Nothing you say will change what happened.”

He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.

“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”

A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.

“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.

“Why did you betray us?”

Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.

“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”

“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.

Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.

Did that mean he really was the villain?

In your eyes, maybe.

Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.

“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”

Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.

How did things end up like this?

He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.

“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.

“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.

He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.

It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.

You didn’t understand it, even now.

Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?

How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?

What changed? Was it something you did?

Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.

“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.

Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.

It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.

But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.

Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.

“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”

Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.

Did he just hear that right?

A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?

As if you could ever be such a thing.

Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.

There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.

But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.

You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.

He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.

Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.

Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.

Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.

Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.

It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.

Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.

“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”

Was that even a question?

Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.

But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?

Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?

What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?

Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.

Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.

All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?

Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?

Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?

You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.

Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?

“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”

Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.

“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”

He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.

Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?

He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.

If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.

He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.

Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.

Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.

“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”

“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.

So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.

However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.

“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.

He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.

He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.

He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.

Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.

That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.

“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).

Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams

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[rosewaterandivy]

Everyone But You - a Life as We Know It au

Ch. 2 - I've Got That Lefty Curse

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Summary: hey, you know what a funeral is decidedly not for? gettin' your dick wet. | OR eddie munson's no good, very bad lay. Pairing: e.m. x f!oc w.c.: 4.9K warnings: NSFW / MDNI, immersive second person narration w/ a name and background but no physical description mentioned, grief, character death, funeral, jason carver mention, badly repressed emotions, poor emotional regulation skills, bathroom antics inspired by the moves of Paris Geller and that one scene from Catch & Release tagging: @powderblueblood for coming up with Eddie's nickname for the rover 😘

The garage door trundles open as Eddie twirls the keys in a flourish. You squint behind your sunglasses, bringing your phone closer to avoid the sun’s glare as you triple-check the directions to CPS.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Eddie grouses as the car comes into view. It’s big, some kind of SUV, a Range Rover apparently, if his grumbling is to go by, one that is impeccably clean.

“What’s the problem?” You walk toward the car as it chirps to unlock, “Keys,” You point to his outstretched hand, “Driver,” You point to him and finally gesture to the car, “Vehicle.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Right, sure. Lemme drive this car that’s worth more than my life, that’ll go real swell!” He choruses in false cheer before his face falls, “Yeah, no. Think fast,” He lobs the keys toward you which you step to avoid, and the pair of you watch as they rattle to the floor.

“Well shit, Sherlock, y’know you’re supposed to catch things as they’re thrown at you.”

You roll your lips between your teeth and raise a brow, “I don’t drive.”

“Riiiight,” Eddie says, scooping down to collect the keys. “Of course you don’t, your majesty. Wouldn’t want to sully ourselves with something so pedestrian.” He yanks the driver’s side door open and hauls himself inside.

Settled in the passenger seat, you buckle your seatbelt and pair your phone to the bluetooth in the car. Eddie adjusts the seat and mirror before deciding on a Sirius station for the fifteen minute journey to downtown.

“For the record,” He says, pulling out onto the residential street, “I have a driver’s license, not a boating one. This thing is a goddamn behemoth.”

The car lurches forward as he navigates toward the stop sign at the end of the block, the seatbelt seizes against your chest, jerking you backward into the seat.

“Munson, sort your shit out! There’s going to be an actual baby whose well-being we’re responsible for in here, you know.”

He kisses his teeth and huffs in exasperation, “Sorryyy, I can’t figure out the damn clutch on the S.S. Fuck The Planet, princess. Jesus H. Christ.” 

You make a mental note to have the insurance policy switched over and update the title on the cars as well. Swiping over to the notes app, you tap out a reminder and add a trip to the grocery store for good measure. The list is titled: HOW TO SURVIVE IN HAWKINS and has such gems as: whole foods - where?, research moving co.’s NYC, check out brownstone, contact attorney & set up will, utilities & electric??, and baby books!!!

While you prepped for the impending arrival of Zoë and a prolonged stay in the Midwest, Eddie prattled through the house like Jacob Marley’s ghost shuffling from one vacant room to the next. He’d sent something off to his agent and editor via email about pushing the deadline back for his current novel, and had thrown his duffle in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs, the one furthest from Chrissy and Jason’s room, naturally.

You’d settled in a room close to the nursery and across the way from Eddie. The guest bath was conveniently at the end of the hall just before the staircase. Neither of you bothered unpacking after Max left, just threw your bags upstairs and scrambled to the garage to pick up Zoë as soon as possible.

The ride smooths out, eventually, Eddie seeming to get a hang of the clutch or whatever it was, and soon enough you’re being escorted back to the caseworker’s office at CPS. 

She instructs you to sign the form with your intention of temporary custody just until the court can set a date with the judge to award full custody. Until that time, a caseworker would be checking up on Zoë and your care of her, the findings of which would be presented to the judge at a later date.

“And if you’ll sign here as well, Mr. Munson.” 

Eddie scribbles off his disaster of a signature just as Zoe is brought in.

“Oh,” You sigh, relieved as you rise from the chair. “There she is.” You adjust the strap of your tote on your shoulder and leave the room, gently taking her from a woman with a nod of thanks. Keeping your voice soft and low, you greet Zoë. “Hi, sweetheart. Hi sweet girl!”

It’s rare that Eddie ever hears you like this, voice pitched just so as not to hint at any sadness you may be grappling with currently. And Zoë, she looks so pink and cute— footsie pajamas decorated in little hearts. 

“Oh, honey. It’s so good to see you.” You brush back her downy blonde hair just as she begins to fuss, blue eyes falling to Eddie, who is rendered speechless in the office. He sniffs to clear any welling tears and quietly thanks the caseworker before joining you in the waiting room.

“I know, I know,” You soothe, rocking her back and forth, watching as Eddie steps beside you. 

Zoë continues her soft cries, not nearing meltdown territory yet, but rather expressing her confusion or discomfort. Eddie’s hand cards through her wisps of blonde hair as you turn and say, “Hey, look. Hey, look – it’s Uncle Eddie!” Which seems to placate her somewhat, as chubby arm reaches toward him.

Lifting her from your hip, you continue to narrate: “Wanna go see him? Good, he’s right here.” And place her squarely against his chest, his hands coming to grip her sides as she tucks herself against him, little fingers gripping the worn fabric of his shirt.

You watch as he holds his goddaughter, her soft cries falling away to nothing as she nuzzles into his neck. “Okay,” You breathe, “We should really get her home.”

The car seat, however, proves difficult. Eddie has grimaced and groused his way through various belt to lock combinations, determining all of them to be useless.

“Who designed this thing, a fuckin’ Space X engineer?”

Leaning against the car with Zoë, you decide fifteen minutes is more than enough time for Eddie to dick around with the car seat. “Shove over Elon, this is getting ridiculous.” 

Seamlessly, you set Zoë in the car seat and buckle her in. “See?” You ask, a taunting lilt to your voice, “Was that so difficult?”

“Well, that’s because I eliminated all other possibilities, so obviously you—”

“Shut it, Munson. And drive.”

You’re nearly back to Loch Nora when a cop lights up behind the rover. “Really, today? C’mon man!” Eddie pulls off to the side of the road, going for his wallet before stopping short. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit? What do you mean oh shit?!” You whisper frantically, “This isn’t really on ‘oh shit’ type of moment, if you hadn’t noticed!”

“God, would you shut up for, like, two seconds so I can think?!”

“Please, let’s not pretend you think.”

An intentional elbow jabs into his ribs with enough force for him to hiss. He’s about to snarl something not fit for tiny ears back at you when two raps on the window shocks you both into silence.

Eddie reluctantly rolls down the window with a pained smile. 

“Morning officer, what seems to be the problem?”

There’s a pause before a bellowing laugh. “Munson!? Well, of all the gin joints in all the world—”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, “Uh, right. Hi there, Hop.” He clears his throat, “How are… things.”

“Bout to ask you the same thing, kid.” He pockets his aviator glasses and leans against the door, propping one arm to rest on the roof. “D’you know you rolled through that light down on Main before turning onto Pinebow?”

“Uh, no. Sorry, must’ve been distracted.”

“I’ll say,” The officer peers into the car, gaze falling on you. “Morning ma’am. Mind getting me the registration from the glove box?”

“I, uh,” You supply, uselessly. Eddie leans over to do it himself before you can ask what a registration would even look like. Your eyes dart back to Zoë still sleeping soundly. 

“I need to level with you Hop,” Eddie says, handing the paper over to him. “This is not my car, this is not my beautiful wife, and my license is expired.”

“It is!?” You ask, furious. How could he be so irresponsible? There is a child riding in the backseat! Before you can rip him a new asshole, the officer chuckles.

“Can’t say I’m surprised Ed. Shame about the wife bit though.” He reads the registration and passes it back to Eddie. “But considering the circumstances … I’ll let this one slide.”

“The circumstances?” You prompt, wondering how the hell a traffic cop would know about Chrissy and Jason’s accident.

“My condolences,” He says with a frown and furrowed brow, as if the very idea of their absence unsettles him. “It’s a small town, I’m sure everyone’ll know by day’s end.”

Hop puts his glasses back on and steps back from the vehicle. He nods to you with a small smile, before his eyes narrow on Eddie. “You need to get this taken care of, Munson.” Slapping the roof of the car, he turns on his heel and walks back to the cruiser, “See you Friday!”

Eddie waves him off and pulls back onto the road. Offering positively zero explanations as to why this man you’d never met before today would be showing up to the house later this week.

“Munson, why does that cop think he's coming by the house later?”

“Hmm, oh, Hop? He’s not just a cop, he’s the Sheriff.” 

As if that made it any better.

“Do I want to know why you’re friendly with the boys in blue, er, khaki? Thought you were the commander and chief of ACAB.”

“That,” He says, punching the button to open the garage as the house comes back into view, “Is a story for another time. But for now, just chalk it up to the fact that Hawkins is a verrrry small town, princess.”

By Friday, your bags still remain unpacked by the door to the guest room. It would be so easy to call a car, book a flight and just leave, like it had never happened in the first place.

You’re pretty sure that’s what Munson is expecting you to do. He doesn’t trust you, nor you him. How can you? It’s not like you were ever friends. And it’s not like you’ve seen him in that way since—

A soft knock from the door has you turning to find him holding Zoë in the crook of his arm. She’s smiling and sleepy, fresh from her bath. One that had left you positively drenched, prompting a hasty retreat to find a change of clothes.

“They’re, uh, driving up now.” Eddie mumbles, and though he hasn’t said it, hasn’t complained one bit, you can see how exhausted he is. Essentially dead on your feet from your first night with Zoë. 

She’d cried and wailed all night, or so it felt, and you were sure you’d wake up to a noise complaint or violation of the HOA’s quiet hours or some such shit. Eddie had volunteered to stay with her that night, elected to sleep on the couch in the nursery because he’s “slept on worse.”

He’s said it as if he didn’t already have dark circles under his eyes, as if they hadn’t been awake for over 24 hours, and you want to refute it, to say you can keep the baby monitor on you instead, but the look in Eddie’s eyes tells you this isn’t just about staying the night with Zoë. 

It’s that he wants to make sure Chrissy’s daughter is safe, to protect her daughter in the way he wasn’t able to protect his best friend last night.

“Could you just sleep in—” You tilt your head toward Chrissy and Jason’s room, it’s closer to the nursery anyway. But you don’t get to finish your thought before he’s swept in to the room and settled Zoë in her crib for the night. The conversation effectively over.

“Right,” You say, peeling off the door frame to leave, “Forget I asked.”

But that was last night, and you’d be remiss to say that you’d made it much longer on your own. The room was far too quiet, the sheets too stiff, and you couldn’t find your sound machine to save your life.

It’s two o’clock when you stumble into the nursery, nearly tripping over Eddie’s prone leg because he’s too tall for the small couch, but he doesn’t wake. You make yourself comfortable on the plush white rug, the one Chrissy had sworn felt like a cloud and rest your head on the pillow you’d snuck in from the guest room.

Maybe it’s the white noise machine looped to Zoë’s crib, or maybe it’s the proximity of being close to her that brings a sense of calm that’s enough to lull you into sleep. And maybe, it’s the soft snores and snuffles that fall from the tangle of limbs precariously close to slipping off of the couch.

Regardless, you and Eddie had somewhat survived your first day as guardians. Had struggled through feedings and diaper changes, nap time, and seemingly endless loads of laundry. You’d read Chrissy’s parenting books and ordered more to be delivered tomorrow. Eddie had returned victorious from a Target run and you’d each set about slapping sticky notes and scribbling furiously on a huge tear away calendar— you’d even assigned colors: you were purple, Eddie was neon green, Zoë was pink, naturally.

Max, Eddie’s friend and the estate attorney, had apparently rallied the troops for a family dinner for that evening. You and Eddie were to do nothing, under strict instructions from someone named Nancy to relax and focus on Zoë. You could hear the front door opening as people made their way inside for dinner. 

Gently, Eddie passes Zoë off to you and helps you wrap the sling around your torso. After watching several tutorials on YouTube, you felt confident that everyone would feel more comfortable this way. Plus, your arms were killing you— who knew carrying a baby around could be so tiring?

Once downstairs, introductions are made. Eddie names off everyone in attendance as they stare at you like a new exhibit at the MoMa, or maybe the zoo is more accurate. Immediately, you can see that you don’t belong. Everyone is dressed down casually in jeans and t-shirts, their shoes kicked off by the door.

Whereas you, on the other hand, announce your presence with the click-clack of your heels on the floorboards. Swan into rooms with impeccable posture and sport dresses never more than a season old, unless they’re archival vintage, of course. A bold lip and manicured nails, not a hair out of place.

To the assembled people of Hawkins, you sure cut the figure of a Stepford wife.

“Hi,” A voice pipes up from the man to your right, “I’m Ste—”

A metallic clang sounds out, muffling whatever he had to say. Quickly followed by an exasperated, “Oh, goddamit!”

You smile at him, “The pleasure is all mine. Dean, you said it was?” 

“I, uh,” He stammers out, unable to land his gaze anywhere on your person.

“Right,” You say primly, hearing more cursing from the kitchen, “If you’ll excuse me.”

And, of course, the source of the cacophony is none other than Munson himself. He’s got the hood fan going on the stovetop, and there’s smoke pluming from the oven. Company has been here all of ten minutes and he’s already going to burn the house down.

You grab the sheet pan he’s using to dissipate the smoke from the alarms on the ceiling and narrowly avoid smacking him upside the head.

“I never took you for an arsonist, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.”

He coughs into his shoulder, his hand waving through the air uselessly. But before you can tell him to shove over and let you handle things, people stream into the kitchen. Eddie is shuffled from the stove by a kind woman named Joyce, only to be pulled away by an older man, his uncle Wayne, while Hopper takes over in the kitchen.

Windows are opened by Max and Lucas, allowing the smoke to dissipate. And eventually, Joyce offers to take Zoë and put her to bed after her dinner of mashed peas and carrots. Begrudgingly you let her, dropping a kiss to her downy blonde curls before she’s whisked away.

Dinner is nice as is the company, even if conversation is a bit stilted and awkward given the circumstances. You don’t say much and no one expects you to, but every so often Wayne will catch you gaze and offer a small smile. It’s easy to appreciate his silence, to see it as a comfort because god knows his nephew is normally anything but.

You’re on your second glass of wine for the evening, listening to Robin as she details the various hijinks of what she refers to as the Scoops Troop. But she keeps mentioning someone named Steve and you have half a mind to ask her who that could possibly be. Dean, for all his lack of being mentioned in these stories, laughs along good-naturedly.

It’s when you yawn for the second time in five minutes, that Eddie suggests: “Hey, you should go up and get some sleep.”

You scowl, confused and pleasantly buzzed but stand up all the same. “Fine, but no promises, Munson.”

It had been decided that you’d give the eulogy for the service today. Eddie sits with Zoë in his lap – she's dozing off and you’re thankful – and when Eddie stares up at you, you can feel your heart in your throat. Initially, it seemed that Eddie would deliver the eulogy, this was, after all, his hometown and this church was full of people he’d known most of his life.

But when he’d come to you two nights ago after Zoë had finally fallen asleep, shaking like a leaf with crescent hollows beneath his eyes that the moon would envy, and he’d said in a voice so broken and empty: “I just can’t do it. Please don’t make me.”

And so you didn’t.

Halfway through, while the crowd is chuckling sadly, politely, at your anecdotes about Chrissy and Jason. Things are going well until Zoë begins to hiccup and throws a tantrum. Ellie, Chrissy’s mom, scoops her up into her arms easily and carries her out of the church. Over her shoulder, Zoë’s arms stretch out toward the front of the church, her face crumpled as she cries for her mommy and daddy.

Me too baby girl, me too.

You force yourself to look back at Eddie, and his eyes meet yours. It's a moment of understanding that goes straight to your gut and steals the breath from your lungs; Chrissy wasn’t ever coming back.

The wake is held at the house, a tasteful catered affair courtesy of Jason’s parents. Everyone thought it best for Zoë to be in a familiar setting to try and stick to her routine. People mill about downstairs stopping every so often to shake your hand and offer their condolences, thoughts and prayers, or claim that their hearts are with you during this difficult time.

It’s all you can do not to scream as you hold Zoë like a life raft. So, instead of snapping something at someone’s handsy uncle who has had you cornered for the last five minutes or so, you talk to Chrissy in your head.

What were you thinking Chris? This wasn’t the plan at all, in fact, you’ve jumped the gun by about sixty-odd years y’know. If you care to recall, we said we’d outlive our husbands and buy a place on the Cape. Descend into spinsterhood in style, and then haunt the shit out of that property, as is our right.

Ellie checks in on you with a soft touch to the arm, ushering pervy uncle toward the hors d’oeuvres. Small miracles. You can feel the tears gathering on your lashes, and you know that your tolerance for these platitudes is quickly dwindling. You haven’t seen Eddie since he fed and changed Zoë an hour or so ago.

He’s been distant since that night, the one where you’d refused him and drawn your line in the sand.

Catching sight of Robin, you tell her that Zoë is going for her nap and she promises to make your excuses. She latches on to that guy she seems permanently attached to, (Dean, you wanna say?) and they begin to spread the word in an attempt to clear everyone out.

You take the stairs slowly, not wanting to shift the dozing girl in your arms too much, as you step onto the second floor landing. Turning into the nursery, you set her down on the changing table and rid her of her funeral dress.

No little girl should ever have one, much less be given the opportunity to wear it.

Back in her comfy pjs, you sit on the rocking chair and kick off your heels. Zoë nuzzles against your neck as you hum softly. Sooner than you’d anticipated, the rhythmic rocking to and fro has eased her into sleep. Rising as gently as you’re able, you lay her down in the crib, turn on her sound machine, and step out of the room with baby monitor in hand.

Downstairs, you can hear rumblings of conversation overridden by a male voice: “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” 

Chuckling, you duck into the guest bathroom before any of the hangers on can spot you as they take their leave. Back hitting the door, you allow yourself a moment or two to breathe. Surrounded by people all day on what has arguably been the worst day of your life to date. Smoothing down the skirt of your dress, you pull the shower curtain aside and step into the basin of the bathtub. Once settled, you draw the curtain closed again and let your head rest against the tile wall.

“Why did you leave me alone like this, Chrissy?” You say, voice ricocheting off the bathroom tiles. “You know I can’t handle anything without you.”

Not two minutes later, and someone comes barreling in. Huh, guess you never did lock that door. 

Before you can alert them of your presence, a high-pitched giggle sounds out followed by the scuffling of feet. The door is shut, and the lock is thrown as the giggle turns into a high, breathy gasp. They sound closer now, if the wet sounds of tongues battling for dominance is anything to go by.

Rearing back, you sink into the corner of the tub and will it all to go away. The noxious, ringing laughter continues unabated only punctuated by the sounds of a belt buckle clinking against the sink, a zipper being pulled down.

If you were so inclined (which you are decidedly not), you could simply turn your head to the left and feast your eyes on the shadow sexual escapades of one—

“Oh, Eddie.”

For fuck’s sake! As if this day could get any worse.

But, oh wait, it does.

“Sock it to me!” 

Biting the heel of your hand to quell the rising laughter, your eyes blow wide at her litany of ‘sock it to me’s’ – it’s as if that’s the only thing her poorly wired brain will allow her to say mid-coitus. Eddie’s laughter, understandable given the circumstances, devolves into an attempt to shush his conquest from what has got to be the most unimaginative dirty talk you’ve had the misfortune to be privy to.

When she finally reaches her peak (“Yeah! That’s so good!”), you’ve already mentally catalogued the ways in which you could have a) killed yourself in the interim, b) killed Eddie, and c) killed this poor woman, in all likelihood saving her from a life of mediocre sex at funerals.

“Thanks.”

Well, at least she’s polite.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Eddie sounds embarrassed, voice tight and you can imagine he’s doing that thing where he drums his fingers against his thigh, impatiently waiting for this all to be over. His lips are probably tucked between his teeth while she washes her hands, eyes anywhere but on her.

There’s the sound of the door being unlocked and the throw away line of “Call me,” and with that, she’s gone.

The sink runs again, Eddie muttering to himself under his breath, and for the briefest of seconds when you dramatically pull the shower curtain open, you could’ve sworn you saw something akin to regret (or was it disgust?) as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Fuck!” 

He jumps back, startled at your Houdini-esque appearance. All too calmly, you step out from the bathtub, gaze fixed on him all the while. You pluck the joint from his fingers and stow it in your pocket. 

And you haven’t launched into him yet, so maybe this isn’t the verbal crucifixion that Eddie thinks it’ll be. There’s a curl to his lips that says he’s going to be a problem, that he’s going to make a joke out of this, as if he hadn’t buried his best friend earlier today and then gone and screwed a cater waiter in the bathroom of her house during the wake.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't my Lady Disdain,” He drawls, arms loosely crossed against his chest, “Are you yet living?”

It is only in deference to Zoë that you don’t go scorched earth on his ass right then and there. There’s a soft squawk from your other pocket where the baby monitor is as she likely rolls over in her sleep.

“I am only going to say this once, Munson, so you better get it through that abomination you call a skull.”

Briefly, someone attempts to enter the bathroom, the door nudging open only to be forcefully shut as you, in an impressive feat of balance, slam one Manolo Blahnik clad heel against the door and shove it closed.

“Occupied!”

You wait a beat or two, leg slotted against the door to be sure that whomever was on the opposite side did not attempt further entry. 

If only your yoga instructor could see you now.

Releasing your hold on the door, you flip the lock and take measured steps back to Eddie who is now crowded back against the pedestal sink.

“Did ya have some fun? Get you rocks off? Add another notch to the bedpost?” You seethe, and he knows better than to interrupt when you’re like this. “What a fitting way to send off Chrissy, huh? By defiling her home because you lack something called self-restraint.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“What, is that not accurate Munson? Because from where I was sitting, it sounded like you couldn’t wait bust your nut into the next woman who batted her lashes at you, who maybe, juuuust maybe,” You take one step closer, a mere breath away from him. “Suffers from an undiagnosed brain injury and lowers herself to slum it with the likes of you.”

“Tell me how you really feel, sweetheart,” He sneers, “All those years of therapy seem to be doin’ wonders for your self-esteem. Because you’re too high and mighty to count yourself one of the crowd, right?”

“You have no right—”

“I have no right? Are you kidding me? I'm not the one who shuts down at the first opportunity, who would rather run away than stay here and deal with this!"

"It's not like I’ve left! I'm here, aren't I?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know that?" He demands. "We are not just playing house here! And you can’t pretend that we’re not partners in this. If you’re so scared, why didn't you say anything?”

You storm toward the door, unlocking it as you turn the knob to leave. To get away from him and his pitying looks, his judgment.

"Because I don't need you!"

Eddie’s hand covers yours, “Maybe I need you!" He snaps, almost shouting. "Maybe I need you to work with me instead of against me. Maybe I need you to stop doubting yourself, because there's already so much to worry about and I can't help worrying about you. Maybe I need you to stop being so damn independent and self-absorbed. Maybe I need you to realize that you're not the only person here who lost a best friend."

The heartbreak on his face is so painfully clear that you can feel it in your chest; you can't believe you didn't noticed it before.

The door creaks open.

"Hey, are you guys – oh, sorry."

You turn from Eddie to see Robin on the stairs, hesitating. You clear your throat and blink away any tears, as you step through the door. "Can I help you?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not interrupting," You say, turning toward her and smoothing down your dress.

"Okaaaay." She looks doubtful. "Everyone’s cleared out, leftovers are in the fridge. I checked on Zo and she’s still zonked out."

You nod, “Thanks, for everything.”

“Happy to help.”

You wait until her footsteps fade away, and the front door shuts. Gritting your teeth, you watch as Eddie steps away from you and avoids making eye contact, your jaw clenched tightly enough to hurt.

There's something empty and aching at the base of your throat, and no matter how much you swallow, it won't go away.