A/N:

It's been a while since I posted on here. I've mainly been focusing on my Ao3 account (with sporadic posts at best there as well), and I thought, I might as well post this particular story here as well. We're only two chapters deep thus far, but I hope you'll enjoy reading it. It will be convoluted, fucked up, and hopefully a hilarious journey for you readers. Without further ado, here is the first installment. Enjoy!

Present Day

"And now, we bring to you the single that's been heating up the airwaves all week since it's release,—" the radio shut off abruptly at the click of a button before the DJ could continue their statement, or even think of playing the dreaded song, leaving the room in a heavy silence.

Ultramarine irises filled with a rage-fueled fire glared hatefully at the little stereo, as if daring it to spontaneously combust and take Eren's misery with it. He had never detested the radio before he happened; actually, he used to love having it on in the background. Before him, the youthful lawyer would dutifully fulfill his work, humming along to whatever new songs hit the airwaves. Now, though, Eren couldn't listen to a single fucking station without this one fucking song playing nearly every hour. It wasn't a bad song—it was the exact opposite—but it boiled down to the fact that the song was blatantly about himself that he couldn't even bring himself to listen to it. It made him seethe with unfettered fury.

Who the fuck did he think he was, composing a song about his little tryst with Eren fucking Jaeger, high-profile celebrity lawyer engaged to the actress Annie Leonhart and perfectly straight, fuck you very much, without getting his permission? It was fucking outrageous. Sure, it didn't mention him by name, or profession, or anything even mildly incriminating, and the only two that knew the song was about a certain teal-eyed lawyer were the singer and Eren himself, but there was something so... so disturbing about having his lapse in judgment blasted on the radio, on the lips of every teen girl, making waves on fucking television, out there for everyone to see. He felt exposed, raw, angry.

Everyone in the fucking states knew who Eren Jaeger was, even before he had ever snagged the precious gem that was Annie to sit pretty on his arm; he was famous in his own right. Son of renowned doctor Grisha and beloved Cellist Carla Jaeger, Eren had been in the spotlight since before he could even remember. The world watched as he excelled in his classes, cheered as he passed his bar exam with flying colors, and became the strapping young lawyer that he was today. He had never been a disappointment; his conservative parents had urged him to become a lawyer, and so he had, because he only wanted to please them and make them proud. He was very well off, having made his name as a celebrity lawyer as soon as he could take his first case, and his fame only grew when he began offering his services for free to those in need that lacked the funds to hire a lawyer. Eren wasn't just some high-profile jackass getting famous and rich people off of well-deserved charges, he was a lawyer for the people. And the people adored him for his donations and charitable actions to those less fortunate.

Everything in his life that had been built by his parents, and then by himself, had been perfect. It was all nicely wrapped up, neatly organized, and well cared for—until he came in, shook up the contents and smashed it, before walking back out like a storm, leaving devastation in his wake. Eren shook those thoughts from his head roughly, shoving it all into a box in the back of his mind. His life was still perfect, as far as he was concerned. The only thing that reminded him of his lapse in behavior and idiotic judgment was that fucking song that he couldn't seem to escape from.

No matter, he just wouldn't listen to the radio anymore. He would bring earbuds with him everywhere, to drown out the voices singing along, and really, wouldn't it be healthier for his mind to cut back on television, as well? He had been indulging a little too much recently, in his opinion.

"Mr. Jaeger, you have a call waiting," the cheerful voice of his receptionist over the intercom dragged him back to reality, and the ever-present mask of professionalism locked back into place.

"Send it to line one," he responded smoothly, banishing all thoughts of that man from his mind.

Levi sat in his dimly lit hotel room, leaning heavily back on the luxurious loveseat, a glass of whiskey clutched by the brim with the fingertips of one hand, whilst the other flicked cigarette ash over the back of the seat. One of his legs was kicked up on the cushion, the other braced on the ground, and Petra lay overtop him, head pillowed against his chest. She was breathing softly, slowly, having passed out from just a little too much alcohol, and Levi was, well... brooding.

It wasn't odd for the 35 year old man to be caught up in his thoughts with a dark expression on his face, but it had been happening with an alarming frequency as of late. All because of some bright eyed brat. He heaved a sigh and tossed back the last of his whiskey before letting the glass fall to the carpeted floor, forgotten. A drag off his cigarette inflating his lungs displaced the strawberry blonde's head slightly, and she hummed in her sleep, curling up a little closer to his torso. Smoke curled up from his parted lips, forming meaningless shapes in the air, and blank slate eyes followed their lazy trail as his mind wandered.

Everything in his life culminating up into this shitstorm of a fucking existence, could all be pinpointed to one fucking simple mistake. Well, a goddamn amalgamation of mistakes careening off a fucking cliff, but he digresses. Certainly, there could have been different paths that he could have taken that would have led to a different endgame, but if this one circumstance hadn't have happened, this entire fucking branch would have been cut like a diseased limb. But for some reason, as shitty as everything was, he couldn't bring himself to regret the roads he took. He couldn't regret him. And certainly, it hadn't been all bad.

For example, his band's fame was skyrocketing to heights he'd never even dreamed they'd reach for at least another five years of nose to the fucking grindstone, all thanks to a song he had composed in a fit of wrath and despair. It had come out much more upbeat thanks to Hange's fucking perfect arrangements, even if the lyrics were on the depressing side. He had mindblowing sex, felt things he had never experienced before, and had a fucking blast while on the goddamned rollercoaster ride that was Eren Jaeger. So he'd crashed and burned, and everything was in the shitter, and it fucking blew donkey dick. He'd get over it. Bright Eyes didn't have to be different. All lays with pretty eyes were just one and the fucking same, he told himself repeatedly.

Levi was the fucking frontman for No Name, for Christ's sake. He could have his pick of the litter if he damn well chose. The band consisted of Hange, Miche, and himself, but their identities were kept a complete and utter secret from the public. Known as H, M, and L respectively—Hange's shit idea, but no one else had any better ones—the three of them had formed the band on a drunken whim in college, and hadn't expected it to get as far as it had. They worked hard, though, and earned their spot on the charts with blood, sweat, and tears. No Name was on the lips of teenagers everywhere; hell, even adults seemed to go crazy for their mysterious shtick, and their popularity rose so fast that Levi got whiplash. So, really, if he felt the need to get some fucking pussy or dick, all he had to do was give the word, and panties would drop faster than someone dropped a fucking hot potato (fuck off, he was shit at metaphors, okay?). He just... wasn't horny right now, that was all. The fact that he'd brought Petra back to the hotel with the intention of fucking, only to end up drinking the entire mini-bar instead, was a testament to that fact. His dick wasn't broken, fuck you very much. He didn't suffer from ED, either. His libido was just... lax, currently. From work-related stress and lack of sleep. Obviously.

His cigarette had long since snuffed out by the time he brought it back to his lips, and he made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. He didn't have another one near him; his pack was all the way across the fucking room, and Petra was dead to the fucking world on top of him, making escape futile. So he closed his eyes wearily, leaning his head back on the loveseat, and once again began to contemplate the start of it all...

1 and a Half Years Ago

What the FUCK, Levi!" Hange screeched through the shitty payphone receiver, and the short, scowling man winced, yanking it harshly away from his ear. "What the fuck do you mean by 'I'm in jail, come bail me out?!' Is it April 1st?"

Levi frowned deeply, his brows furrowing as he brought the disgusting phone back as close to his person as he was willing to without it touching his skin. "First, shut the fuck up, you shity fucking banshee. I'm not old enough to go deaf yet. Secondly, why the absolute shitting fuck would I joke about this? At 3 in the goddamned morning? And last I fucking checked, dumbass, it's fucking Autumn. So will you just come fucking get me already? I'm at Trost Police Department."

"Oh my god, okay. I'm getting in the car right now." Levi heard the sound of her car door slamming, and he leaned against the wall as she took a deep breath and released a harsh sigh. "This is so not how I expected to start my fucking day," Hange muttered, starting her car and peeling out of the driveway. "What even happened?"

"That can wait, just hurry up. And do me another favor, and don't even breathe a word of this to Eyebrows," he growled threateningly. He hadn't called their manager for a fucking reason. Erwin didn't need to know about this.

"Erwin's going to kill you," Hange singsonged into the receiver, her voice staticky, before she went deathly silent. "...he's going to kill me too, isn't he?"

Levi snorted unattractively, the corner of his lips pulling back into a sneer. "You don't fucking say. You're my accomplice now, bitch." Grey eyes studied well-manicured nails, inspecting for any dirt beneath the free edges.

"Shit," the woman whined, still seeming to possess that demented cheery tone in her voice. Fucking psycho. "You owe me big time, shortstack."

"Tch." He hung up the phone without dignifying her with a response. The officer that had escorted him to the phone led him back to his cell, and shut the door behind him. It clanged loudly, the sound echoing through the hall, and while he waited for her to arrive, Levi leaned against the wall. He grimaced at the "bed" in the cell, refusing to touch it even though he was dead on his feet and feeling a little dizzy. Who knew how many people had put their disgusting bodies on that mattress. Clean sheets didn't mean shit to the germs underneath; his skin crawled at the thought, and he could feel the urge to scald his skin and scrub it raw. Shitty glasses couldn't bail him out fast enough for his tastes.

After what felt like years dragging by, his officer came back and unlocked the cell, gesturing him out. "Your bail was paid; you're free to go."

"Fucking finally," Levi groused, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he strode forward, shoulders back and head held high. Once he made it out into the main office, Hange stood up from a shitty plastic chair and practically mowed him down. She leeched onto him tightly and picked him up off of his feet.

"My precious little grumpy," she screeched into his ear, and he winced and struggled in her grasp, trying to free himself. "I'm so happy to see you safe and sound and all in one piece!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, shitstain, put me the fuck down and get me out of here!" He smacked her on the back of the head, eye twitching at the rat's nest that she called hair. IT hung down around her shoulders, not pulled up for once, and mussed from tossing and turning in bed.

Completely disregarding his first command, the exciteable woman spun around and promptly carried him out of the police station and into the parking lot. Levi cursed and fought the entire way, hissing insults at his bandmate. She deposited him into the car, shutting the passenger door, before heading around and climbing into the driver's seat. Hange started the car, backing out of the parking spot, and as quickly as legally possible, sped out of the lot and onto the road.

"So," she started conversationally, her tired eyes flicking over to regard the short man's profile. Levi was currently leaning against the car door, his eyes even more lidded than normally, and he looked exhausted. He merely grunted for her to continue, his gaze lazily trailing over to her as she focused back on the road. "Care to tell me what crime I'm an accessory to? Seeing as how I'm dead no matter what now." The last statement was breathed out, spoken more to herself than to her passenger.

Levi scowled deeply, his arms crossing over his chest, and he did the same with his legs, settling them into his seat. "Look, it's not that bad, okay? So don't shit your pants or get your panties in a twist."

"Levi Ackerman," she stressed his name, her voice taking on a hard, serious edge. "I will call Erwin right now—"

"All fucking right," he bit out, cutting her off. "Don't get Bushybrows involved, fuck. I'm going to tell you." He huffed in annoyance, blowing air up to displace the strands of hair in his face. "I was out, at a club. And I had been drinking, but not heavily. I was only buzzed." Hange opened her mouth, ready to interrupt, but Levi shot her a mutinous glare, daring her to interrup him; she wisely took the warning to heart and slammed her mouth shut so fast that her teeth clacked together audibly.

"So I was buzzed, and I was going to take some guy back to a hotel with me. I didn't want to take a cab, didn't need one, so we took my car. I was driving perfectly fine, you know me Shitty glasses, so don't start lecturing, and this guy pulls out a little fucking baggy of coke."

"What the fuck, Levi!?" Hange shrieked, nearly swerving into the oncoming traffic lane. "Don't tell me—"

"Fuck off and listen, bitch!" After she got a steady hold on the wheel, Levi rolled his eyes and brought his voice back to its normal apathetic tone. "So, the coke. Of course I'm like, 'what the fuck, man, I don't do drugs, get that shit out of my face,' and he tells me that he doesn't give a shit, that he's perfectly fine getting high alone, it'll just make the sex better for him. I'm about ready to kick this fuck out of my car if he doesn't put that shit away, but then he just fucking grabs my crotch out of nowhere. I almost veered off the fucking road I was shocked at the sheer size of this man's nuts. He clearly needs a goddamn wheelbarrow to haul those puppies around. Anyway, obviously, I demand an answer to the perfectly reasonable question of 'what the actual fuck do you think you're doing you absolute mouth breathing waste of space'." Levi takes a deep breath, and exhales through his nose, getting more comfortable, before turning his head to fully face Hange.

The woman is completely absorbed in his little tale, and it looks like she's having a hard time trying to decide what deserves the most attention: him or the road. Luckily for the both of them, she turns into the apartment complex and parks the car, leaving it running as she turns bodily towards him and raises her brows expectantly, impatience written on her face. She gesticulates wildly for him to continue, before crossing her own legs in her seat and leaning her elbows on them.

"And this fucking guy, you know what he says to me, shitty glasses? He says, and I fucking quote, 'I'm just gonna do a line off your cock, babe.' And then has the audacity to try and bribe me with sloppy roadhead." Hange chokes on a laugh, the sound gurgling and dying in her throat as she waits, a hand pressed over her lips. "To which, I vehemently refuse. At this point, I'm swerving on the road, trying to get shit for brains the fuck away from me, and then all of the sudden, I'm hearing sirens and seeing their little flashing lights. I know I'm fucked, so I pull over. I contemplated just shoving titanium nuts from my car and speeding off. His sac would weigh him down and I'd make a flawless getaway."

"Holy shit, Levi," Hange wheezes, her face a splotchy red as she doubles over on herself, still trying to suppress her laughter until the end, and her whole torso shakes from the exertion.

Levi keeps a straight face, his expression bleeding boredom as he raises a singular brow. He gives a little half-shrug, his head cocking to the side as he watches with amusement in slate irises. He continues on conversationally, as if just discussing the weather. "You're fucking telling me. So the officer is a complete shitsnack. He arrests us both, after forcibly grabbing me and yanking me from the car. Like, I didn't fucking do anything except roll my goddamn window down and greet the fuck. He pulled me through the fucking window, Hange."

"Bullshit!" She squeals, leaning towards Levi with wide eyes. "There's no way a cop would do that." She can hardly get her words out, still shaking with repressed laughter. Levi's lips twitch, fighting off a smirk that threatens to spread, just knowing that Hange's close to her breaking point. He leans forwards slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"Apparently the protocol changes when they see a dick out and a bag of coke about to be poured all over it like its a fucking donut in the process of getting powdered," Levi deadpans, his face void of any emotion. Hange finally breaks and starts cackling like a hyena, smacking her hand against her leg loudly. It draws that shit-eating smirk to Levi's lips, his eyes lighting up at making his best friend laugh at his shitty predicament. "Once we get to the station, they test me. Obviously I'm intoxicated—barely, mind you—so I get slapped with a DWI and fucking possession. Even after I explained that the coke's not fucking mine. Even though it was in dick-for-brain's grimy hand. Oh, and let's not forget indecent exposure. They drug tested me, questioned me until they were blue in the face, and then they finally posted my bail and let me get my damn phone call. You know the rest."

Hange had finally stopped laughing, and she drew slow breaths to try and maintain calm, processing all of his words. It takes a few minutes, and her ribs fucking kill, but she's finally got her laughter under control. Suddenly, she looks stricken, and grips onto his hands tightly, squeezing the circulation out of them. "Levi, you're so fucked. Erwin is going to go to prison for murder, and Miche and I can't do this band thing without you or him. What the fuck are we gonna do!?"

"You're fucked too, partner-in-crime. You don't tell him about this, and neither do I. Lucky for me, the public doesn't know L's real identity, so this can't fuck with No Name's or L's images. I just have to get the charges dropped, and then we can tell Eyebrows. He can't kill us if there's no more situation. That'd just be a waste of the talent."

She's nodding along, humming in agreement, before she gasps and leans into his personal space. "I've got an idea! A lawyer! Lawyers know what to do. We can hire one of those to get my little grumpy, and by association, me, out of trouble and away from Bushybrows' evil clutches. I'm a genius!"

"Yeah, but Erwin has a connection to, what, fucking, all of them. It would get back to him before we could even say 'fucked sideways five ways to Sunday with a rusty fucking pole'." Levi sighed, pinching his eyes closed. This was stress that he so did not fucking need. He made a silent vow to himself to never pick up another drunk pretty boy from a seedy bar ever again. Or at least, he'd search their pockets to make damn sure they weren't carrying.

Hange makes a noise of distress, before her mouth falls open in a gasp. "Waitwait wait. You remember that kid? The one that's the son of the famous doctor whatshisfuck and that cellist whozzit? Eyebrows hasn't made connections with him yet, although he's mentioned wanting to."

"That could work... if we can get to him before Shitbrows can." Grumbling, the man contemplated her words. "He any good?"

"There's a couple ways to find out. One:" his bandmate held up her index finger for emphasis. "Research the fuck outta him. And two: a consultation. I know those aren't free, but it's a good place to start."

"It's not like I have a fucking choice in the matter. Let's get inside, Hange. I'm tired, and we've got a fuck ton of shit to do tomorrow. And that's not even including our workload. Fucking Erwin. Someone get him a whip; the man's a damn slave driver."

Nodding her agreement, the two climbed out of the car and headed into their apartment, ready to collapse into their individual beds and sleep for eternity. The night had held far too much excitement, and Levi wasn't sure how much more his heart could take.