#trinkets that lie on your windowsill from people who “thought of this when i saw you” the scent of home that stick to bedsheets | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blueluneacy · 3 years

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I got inspired by a vocaloid song I liked when I was 13. Its ok bc Azul :)

It’s demon! Azul! that is probably the most obvious au i can think of, but its okay and I do not feel bad.

Warnings: manipulation, soul stealing, nightmare mention, implied yandere

It was another restless night. You were used to it at that point, looking up at your ceiling and hoping beyond hope that you would fall asleep. And you were tired, no one could deny that. It was just the idea of seeing…

You didn’t want to think about the nightmares that you were having. They were awful. You always found you in such a terrible inky black world, felt as if your heart was being torn from your chest. It would seem your body would rather be asleep than experience that over and over. But it led to your current dilemma.

It had been three days now. You needed to sleep soon, lest you pass out during work or worse. You needed to sleep. This sick cycle had been going on for a month now, getting nightmares then staying up for ages until you passed out and had more nightmares.

You huffed as your body seemed only to get more restless, pulling you out of your bed. You went over to the window and pulled it open, hoping to get some air. You sighed as you looked up at the moon. The full moon has just passed. Maybe it was the light that was making you so restless. Once the New Moon came, you would be able to sleep with how dark the sky became. You hoped. It seemed that with the month you had been suffering, it was all just terrible hopes and wishes.

“It’s a bit late for stargazing, isn’t it?” You immediately turned to the voice that seemed to creep up out of nowhere, only to see… A man? No, this thing wasn’t a man. Although he had the features of one, there was something off about the look of his eyes. He was beautiful, fancily dressed with a good hat and a freshly pressed shirt. He wore fashionable glasses and had a rather nice coat, to the point where one may suppose that he may be a gentleman of sorts. His silver blue hair fell just past his ears, but you could see them poking out just a little. You noticed a point to them and steeled yourself. Despite his looks, he was no gentleman. You could already tell such a thing.

“I was just going to go to bed. Apologies if I had interrupted your walk.” You said, turning you back immediately and moving to your bed without closing the window. But the man only laughed, choosing to let himself lean against your windowsill and and gently lean into your room.

“You will be? That’s a shame. I had heard you haven’t been able to sleep at all. I was hoping I would have someone to talk to at this late hour.” He said. You flinched, turning your head. You were ready to snap at the being in front of you, but his expression was so gentle.

“Where did you hear that?” You asked, trying to keep your voice smooth. Who knows what would happen if you made some being at your windowsill angry? But he laughed, leaning his head against his hand.

“You know, usually you ask the name of the person you’re talking to before asking questions.” He told you, as if gently chiding a child. “But I hear most everything. Every crone will gossip about any young person they see. Especially one drifting off at their job.” He said. You pursed your lips, looking away.

“I… I’m trying my best. I’ll be able to sleep tonight, don’t you worry.” You said, moving over to the window to get ready to shoo away this mysterious stranger.

“You will? With the nightmares you’ve been having? You know, I know just the cure for those sorts of dreams.” The man told you. It was the word cure that made you pause. You wanted to question again how he knew about your nightmares, but you were sure you’d get the same answer as before. Something told you that he wasn’t all that forthcoming. And besides, you had told your coworkers and friends about it. Had he overheard you?

“You can…?” You paused and shook your head. “I’m not interested in any sort of sleep medicine you have. I don’t really have time for a sales pitch, Mr…” You really had never asked his name, had you? He only smiled.

“Azul. Please, it’s no medicine.” Azul hopped through your window as if it were nothing, moving to seat himself in your desk chair as if he owned the place. You were shocked at how absolutely comfortable he was to look around your home, to set himself comfortably. It was if he was able to go and make himself tea as well. He motioned for you to sit, and for whatever reason, you obeyed. You sat down on the edge of your bed across from him, just staring at him wide eyed.

“Have you ever considered magical intervention for this problem?” Azul asked you. You blinked. Magic…? You looked away, almost shuddering at the thought.

“We don’t have magicians and stuff like that around here. It’s looked down upon.” You responded meekly. He only scoffed at the idea.

“Well now, then there’s your problem. You’re not willing to explore ideas outside of your comfort zone.” Azul said in a bit of a harsher tone. You looked away, curling in on yourself. You were doing the best that you could, right? But, as soon as Azul saw it, he smiled. “Ah, but don’t worry. I have the solution here for you.” He told you. You blinked, looking at him before speaking again.

“And… And you really think that this will help me?” You asked. “Do you really think you’ll be able to help me sleep?” You asked. Azul gave you a lovely smile as he held a hand to his chest.

“Of course. I would never lie to you. I will be able to make you sleep, no doubt about it. You’ll just have to pay me back once you do.” You turned pale at the thought of payment, already grabbing your wallet to try and see how much you had.

“Ah, don’t bother with that. I could never accept a payment up front. After all, what if it doesn't work?” He chuckled. “Of course, it will, but I like to make sure my customers are insured.”

“W… What exactly is going to be the cost?” He was some sort of demon. You could feel it, see it even. But there was something so inexplicably beautiful about him, from those blue eyes to the mole on his chin like a drop of the most exquisite ink. It comforted you, just a little.

“Oh, nothing much. Don’t worry, I tend to like things humans usually don’t even think about. Things that rarely cross your mind.” He hummed. Well, that would be simple, right? Did he really just like trinkets and such? It might be risky, but… God, you were so tired. No other method had worked, and you knew Azul knew that. It would be fine, right? Something you rarely thought about… Well, it couldn’t be that hard.

“Fine. I accept, please. Just help me.” You said. Azul smiled, standing up as he held up his hand.

“Then it’s a deal. I’ll come back on the New Moon to check on your progress.” He told you, before taking your own hand and raising your pinky up. “Why don’t we make a nice promise? I always think young people like these sorts of things.” Ah, was Azul a lot older than you then? But he looked the same age you did. Still, as he raised your pinky, it seemed as if he wanted to make a promise with you like that. You couldn’t help but laugh as the two of you made your small pinky promise.

But, your laughter didn’t last long. The moment Azul pulled away from you, you felt an intense drowsiness fall over you as you instinctively crawled into bed. Azul looked over you with a smile, much more satisfied than the last few he’s given you. He walked to your window, ready to leave before calling out to you again. Your eyes were just barely fixed on him, your eyelids feeling oh so heavy.

“Have a pleasant evening, (Y/n).” And with that, you fell into an empty sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you burst up, looking around. You really… Were able to get a good night’s sleep? Was all of that with Azul just a dream? You got up and saw that your window was still open, a gentle breeze blowing your curtains back. You looked around outside, but there weren’t even footprints. He really was just gone.

“Maybe it was all a dream…” You decided not to worry too much about it. After all, you slept. You felt rested. And that was enough for you.

But, that didn’t last for long. After a few days, it felt as though sleep wasn’t helping at all anymore. Although you could fall asleep now, every time you woke up, you felt just as tired as when you were awake. Your sleeps were empty, like death itself. It was definitely not as troubling as before, but still. You were still exhausted. After a week, you were in the same position you were in before. Falling asleep at work, dozing off left and right. But this time, sleep was just doing nothing for you.

On the night of the New Moon, you stayed up on purpose. If Azul didn’t show up, you had a strange dream, and if he did, you had words. Many, awful words.

But, when your clock had just struck three, there was a gentle knock on your window. You got up, unlatched the window and pursed your lips as you saw Azul. He was as handsome as ever, smiling at you with wonderful kindness. He easily pulled himself through your window.

“You’ve been able to sleep, I see. Are you enjoying it?” Azul asked. You immediately huffed.

“I can sleep, but I’m still tired all the time. It’s like my sleep doesn’t even matter.�� You told him. Azul immediately laughed.

“Well, of course. You haven’t been dreaming, after all.” He told you as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You blinked.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I suppose that maybe you’re not the type of person to remember your dreams, then? Well, allow me to explain.” He already sat to take his place at your desk, sitting down and leaning back. And, like an obedient student, you were already sitting on the edge of your bed, ready to listen.

“It’s about the sleep cycle. In the most important step, where you are getting the most rest, you’re dreaming. It’s like a filler portion your brain puts in.” Azul tells you. You felt yourself getting pretty angry at that. Of course you could never trust a demon like that. They always have something to pull.

“Well, then why didn’t you give me dreams? You took away my nightmares, but you didn’t put anything there to replace it?!” You snapped. Azul tilted his head to the side as if he were a confused dog.

“You never asked. I don’t do things that people don’t ask me to do. It always seems to end up terribly.” Azul replied, as if it were the most simple thing.

“Well, now this has turned out terribly too.” You huffed. Azul sighed.

“Well, that’s the reason I take payment afterwards. After all, I can’t take payment from an unhappy customer, can I?” Azul said, standing up. He took your hand and gently pulled you up, using his free gloved hand to run along your cheek. Azul, despite everything, truly was beautiful. Perhaps that was the danger of him, or of demons in general. They were too beautiful. It was as though the tricks that they play weren’t out of malice, but out of pure foolishness on both ends. Foolishness to not assume and foolishness to believe a demon would ever not twist his words.

“How about I make you some dreams then? I’ll make you the most lovely dreams. Sweet stories and savory fantasies. Would you like such a thing? You’ll be able to dream to your heart’s content.” He told you. You should know better than to say yes to such a thing. And yet, you couldn’t help but ask.

“And… And the payment will be the same?” You asked, hoping that he would tell you that it would be awful this time, that he would scare you into refusing. But Azul only smiled.

“Of course. Like I said, I’ll never take payment from an unhappy customer.” You felt his hand rub against your back as the other held your chin. When… When did you get so close to him? It was dizzying, this whole experience. You blinked up at him, nodding slowly. Azul hummed in delight.

“Then… Shall we seal this promise with a kiss?” He asked, and you couldn’t refuse. As Azul’s lips pressed against yours, you felt your eyelids get heavy once more, whatever magic Azul had activating and starting to lull you to sleep. It was a chaste kiss, but long. It was as if Azul was savoring it, only pulling away when he was satisfied. He easily pulled you up into his arms and placed you on the bed, turning his back to you as he moved back to the window.

“Then, I’ll return on the full moon. I hope to hear about how happy you are then.” He turned to you, looking at your sleepy face once more before smiling.

“Sweet dreams, (Y/n).”

And you did have sweet dreams. That night, you dreamed of such wonders. Of houses made of sweets, of a prince to sweep you off your feet with silver glasses and a mole on his chin. It was all so wonderful that when you woke up, you wanted to go right back to sleep. You saw your open window and smiled. Finally, things would get better. About time.

And they did get better. For you, at least. Maybe not for the people around you. Because, as you slept more, the more you wanted to sleep. All you wanted to do anymore was sleep, sleep, sleep. You were rested when you were awake, sure, but your dreams were so pleasant. You were so happy being asleep. You continued dreams with your prince, to dream of love and eternal bliss. It was like a paradise you could never escape from. The only anxiety that plagued you was once again, Azul.

What was it exactly that he wanted from you? Soon, he would be coming for his payment. What was it that he wanted? You tried to think of things people didn’t think about often. Maybe cheap things? Or squirrel skin? Or maybe people didn’t think about lost fingernail clippings. But any idea that came to your mind felt stupid. You just had to wait. And the waiting was the most terrible part.

But, the full moon came. Time never slows down, and it moves extra quick for those who are always sleeping. When Azul knocked on your window, you opened it gently. You didn’t want to seem afraid, but you were just unsure of what to even give. But Azul greeted you warmly, coming through your window gently. Really, now that you think about it, he looked a lot like the prince from your dreams. How strange.

“I see you’re doing very well. That makes me really happy.” Azul told you. You did your best to smile back, nodding.

“Yeah! Of course, now I sleep a bit too much, but that’s more of my own fault than yours.” You replied, trying to keep yourself light. Azul just hummed.

“That’s good. That’s another happy customer I have under my belt then.” Azul told you. Usually, now was the time he would sit down and explain how payment would work, but he simply stood there, smiling at you. You let yourself stand in the silence as it grew awkward, before Azul finally spoke up.

“Well, as for payment… I’m sure you’re already aware, right?” He asked you. You shook your head slowly, trying to figure out what he meant.

“Actually, no. But if you tell me what it is, I’ll get it for you right away, I promise!” You told him. Azul chuckled a bit.

“Ah, but you already have it right here.” Azul told you, pulling you into his embrace. It was tighter, more possessive than you expected it to be. “After all, it’s quite hard to lose your eternal soul, at least for a human.” You went pale, starting to squirm to try and get away from Azul, but his grip was iron tight.

“W-What?! Why didn’t you tell me?! You said it would be something I don’t think about?!” You told him. Azul only laughed.

“Humans don’t think about their eternal souls often, I don’t think. If they did, they wouldn’t do foolish things so often.” Azul replied, touching your cheek gently. “As for not telling you… You never really pressed me on the matter, so I thought it was okay.” He replied. You felt your blood run cold as you turned your head away from Azul, starting to cry. He tutted you gently.

“Oh, why are you giving me such a sad expression? This is reality here. After all, you were only dreaming anyway. What’s the point in dreams if you don’t ever try to put them into action?” he told you. You weren’t listening. You only continued to cry, to cry for yourself. You can never trust a demon, no matter how beautiful they are. And you were learning that far too late.

Azul sighed as he lifted you up, placing you onto your bed. You tried to curl up, but Azul easily climbed on top of you, entwining his hands with yours and letting his nose brush up against yours.

“Don’t worry, darling. It’s not so bad to be with me. Just let yourself fall into one more dream that I’ve made for us.” Azul told you, leaning to let his lips brush gently against yours in a not quite kiss.

“Now. Fulfill your end of the bargain.” And you had no hope of saying no as Azul descended upon you in another kiss. It was rougher this time, with teeth and tongue, but it didn’t matter. All you truly felt was despair as you felt your eyes droop. You felt a sharp pain and the taste of blood as you started to fall asleep, looking up to see Azul pull away from you. The last thing you saw was a satisfied smile on Azul’s face, with blood staining his teeth.

…

Hey, have you heard? It’s about that person who fell into eternal sleep.

They say that if you go out on the full moon when the clock strikes three, you might be able to see them on the arm of a handsome man. Of course, that’s ridiculous, right? Only a fool would believe such stories. After all, at that late, everyone must be dreaming. But the man always looks so happy as he walks with them, don’t they?

They say at that time, the person sleeping starts to cry.

#azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto/reader #twisted wonderland/reader #twisted wonderland #twst/reader #yandere/reader #yandere x reader #My writing #mine #sfw

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harry-leroy · 4 years

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So @ticketybooser left some wonderful comments on my last George Warleggan fic that I posted (thank you for those! ❤️) - and so I got some ideas for continuing it. This doesn’t end in any particular spot, and it’s probably something I’m just going to keep adding onto as I feel like it. Leaving under the cut for length + angst. Also going to tag @forcebros because our boys!

From the door, another figure came into frame. Tall, imposing, he turned the lock and swung open the door. His eyes locked with Dwight’s. Impulsively, Dwight let go of George’s arm. It was Penrose.

“Ah, Dr. Enys,” he began, relieving the other doctor by means of a slight nod. “Word was going around that we might be expecting you here today. Come to call me other names? Or does ‘brute’ settle it for you?”

George stepped back, his shoulders tensing. Dwight had to steel his courage, which wavered in Penrose’s presence.

“I’ve come to take him home,” Dwight swallowed, remembering that his position was the right.

Penrose chuckled a little.

“Take him home?” He shifted on his feet, almost as if marking it as a jest. “Who said you would be allowed to do that?”

“He shouldn’t be here-“ Dwight began.

“As far as our procedures are concerned,” Penrose’s eyes narrowed on Dwight, as if sizing him up. “George will not be allowed to leave until he has received a clearance that his madness has been cured. You’ve been made aware, Dr. Enys, that he is one of the most stubborn patients we have yet come across,”

“So-“ Dwight attempted to interject.

“So the prospect isn’t likely,” Penrose almost sneered.

“So you are aware,” Dwight finished what he had to say, voice calm. “My claim to take him home is not under the basis that his condition has improved. In fact, I think it has become far worse since his arrival,”

“Worse?” Penrose gritted his teeth.

“Have you checked his pulse?” Dwight asked. “I think you’ll find it rather quick. Quicker than I am comfortable with,”

Penrose took a few short steps towards George and took his wrist. He was met with some resistance, though Penrose fought to get his way, nearly taking George off his feet when he pulled the wrist in his direction. There was a pause in the conversation, then a frown on Penrose’s face, followed by the wrist being thrown down at George’s side.

“Oh, so the kind and patient doctor has come to intervene,” Penrose mocked. “This is not a charity house, it’s a hospital,”

“So leaving a man with his pulse that high-“ Dwight began.

“George is not used to visitors. He is forbidden from seeing anyone from outside the hospital under normal circumstances; circumstances which I would like to keep in place,” Penrose explained, his patience running short.

“I’ve been made aware of that,” Dwight said.

Penrose blinked, trying to piece out if Dwight had said what he thought he had said.

“I’ve been told that his uncle and his son have been denied from seeing him on several occasions,” Dwight continued, deciding to then lower his voice. “Now his son has taken ill. He will not eat. George’s son is a growing young boy who needs nourishment,”

“Young boys should stay out of this,” Penrose said with an air of contempt.

“How about his uncle?” Dwight stepped closer to Penrose. “The stiffest man in Cornwall was nearly brought to tears by his nephew’s suffering,”

“For God’s sake, Enys!” Penrose snapped. “George Warleggan is gone from their lives now. He’s incurable. Do you hear me? Incurable,”

Dwight shuddered at the word. This whole time, George had been running his index finger along the windowsill in slow little patterns. They were the patterns on Elizabeth’s jewelry, though no one could guess that but him. He was used to men talking about him like this, and saw no more reason to intervene. That would only bring him more punishment.

“No,” Dwight shook his head, staring at Penrose, incredulous. “No. You’re wrong,”

Penrose scoffed, regaining his temper.

“And what are you going to do?” He challenged. “I’ve said it before, and I’ve said it again. Your lunatic methods go against all proven treatments,”

“And this isn’t lunatic?” Dwight nearly lost track of the conversation from the sheer exhaustion of trying to reason with this man. However, Penrose’s approaching figure, all the more menacing, all the more imposing, brought Dwight back.

“I could have you put away right now if I felt like it,” Penrose’s eyes were monstrous. “Your entire coming here has been nothing but an act of utter madness. If you think you’ve been destined to save George Warleggan of all people from my grasp then you are sorely mistaken!”

He started laughing under his breath, it was short, though enough.

“Pity,” he said. “The mad doctor. Believing he can cure the incurable. How shameful that would be for your charming wife to hear,”

The thought intruded into Dwight’s mind like a slippery worm. He thought of suffering as George had suffered. Aching. Alone. Without agency. He thought of Caroline. She would forget him, surely. She would marry some rich heir. The only child he could give her had died. Who was to say that the rest would not turn out the same? If they were given another? Another husband, a better husband would suit her more. The screaming down the hall brought him back to France. He felt his pulse quicken. He could not be a prisoner again.

“Dr. Enys?” Penrose recalled the man back from a horrid trance. “Don’t tell me that I have cause to act against you now,”

Dwight swallowed, still caught off guard by the doctor’s remark. His methods had been unpopular, yes, but they were far more humane and effective than anything that Penrose would do. No. Caroline loved him. France was behind him. If anything, George needed him now. If he could save one, it would be George Warleggan. Dwight was the sane man in the room. All the same, he was the odd man out.

“I think you’re forgetting who is now the head of the Cornwall Infirmary,” Dwight reminded him, and also himself. “I think you’re forgetting who they decided to turn down to place him there. If there are any issues with George Warleggan’s release into my care, you ought to take it up with him,”

Dwight turned back to George and took him gently by the hand, then began to walk with him towards the door of his room. As they walked, Dwight wrapped one of his arms around George’s shoulders, as if to protect him from Penrose as they went past.

“Come on, George,” Dwight said, his voice soft. “Let us leave this Hell,”

* * *

Valentine now felt as though he were deaf to Ursula’s incessant crying. He stared blankly at the ceiling from his bed, a soreness dragging him deeper into the mattress as he huddled against it for warmth. His chest felt heavy, like it did when his Mama died. No tears came though.

He might have been glad once to have his Papa gone, but that was when Cary was gone too. They were in London for the week, and would return on a Saturday night. There were often little gifts waiting for Valentine the next morning, expensive trinkets from the high street and sometimes the odd toy. In those times, he had his Mama. She was not always as attentive as he wanted her to be, but at least Papa was not there to argue with her. Now, his father was somewhere else entirely, very sick, maybe even dead. Valentine had decided that of all the ways to die, madness would be the worst. Once, it had been childbirth, though Valentine realized that it was not something that he would likely experience, and so madness took over the spot.

This way, the way he was at the moment, didn’t seem a bad way to go. Starvation. Not something he was taught to worry about; his Papa had made that adamant. But now he couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything. He didn’t want to. The thought made him nauseous.

Valentine wondered if this is how Papa sometimes felt after a fit. Lethargic. For a moment, he pictured himself a madman as he lie in the bed, locked in his room to sleep. It sounded cozy, thought Valentine, with a sense of irony that was too much for his tired young brain to analyze. Perhaps he would go back to sleep again, as he had been doing for days on end.

There was a soft knock at the door before he saw Cary enter. He hadn’t been expecting Cary. Normally, it had been Bessie or Lucy with some soup or something of the like, which often went untouched. He was told that Dr. Enys had come once and given him something to soothe him, but it was beyond his memory. Valentine thought for a moment to pretend to be asleep so he wouldn’t be bothered, but the thought didn’t come fast enough.

“What are you doing here?” Valentine asked, face feeling flushed and feverish.

Cary hesitated a moment before speaking.

“I came here to tell you that I spoke with Dr. Enys,” Cary decided to sit down on the side of the bed, causing the weight on the mattress to shift in a funny way. “About your father,”

The pressure on Valentine’s chest felt tighter and heavier than before. He was dead, the boy knew. It would be some gross story that his uncle would coat in sugar as best he could. Passed out naked on a bed of straw, wouldn’t wake up, hadn’t bathed in weeks. There was blood in his hair, but it was from a fight with a doctor some days earlier. His wrists were as red as cranberries. The welts on his back would have been enough to kill him, but George Warleggan didn’t go down easy - that was the image Valentine had spent the past few months imagining, the picture of his hypothetically dead father becoming more complex each time he thought about it. But that wasn’t the news at all.

“He’s coming home,” Cary said, a pained smile crossing his face for a brief moment. Cary was sorely unused to smiling at all, and the news was almost bittersweet, knowing well in his heart that he would have to see his nephew in a wretched condition once again.

“Oh,” Valentine said, almost too tired to react in any other way. The tenacious illness that grabbed him seemed to lessen his excitement. Or perhaps it was the fear of seeing that imaginary dead man walking.

#george warleggan #dwight enys #poldark fic #poldark au #poldark #valentine warleggan #my fic #ahhhhh #:’)

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ackermom · 7 years

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Eren and Levi reconcile after the events on the rooftop. [ao3]

The grass at headquarters is overgrown. It must have been weeks since somebody bothered to take care of it. The weeds are wild too; dandelions have sprung up in every crack of the cobblestone courtyard, and large, scrawling vines have begun their ascent up the old stone walls. Everything is out of use, out of care. This place was forgotten, briefly, amidst the world. It was left to fend for itself against the weather and the rats, and it has not fared well. But its heart has returned at last.

Eren stands in the center of the courtyard for a long time. Headquarters is quiet these days, even after the Survey Corps has returned: what’s left of the Survey Corps, anyways. There aren’t enough of them to fill the barracks or the mess hall, so they sleep in officers’ chambers and eat in the meeting rooms. It doesn’t matter what they do. No one is going to stop them, anyways. On most days, Hange is away; there are so many things that need her attention and she has so little time. Otherwise, they are left to their own: well, almost their own.

Eren wanders inside when the wind grows too cold, and he finds himself trailing up the stairs to Levi’s room. It’s empty when he pushes the door in: and not just empty, but bare. But it’s what he expected, so he shuts the door to keep out dust and moves on. They have hardly seen him since they returned from the last expedition. He thought… well, he doesn’t know what he thought, other than that things might be different now. And things are different, just not in the way he expected. He comes to the end of the corridor, his feet trailing absentmindedly along the floor. On the level below, he can hear conversation: the others have returned from the market. But his gaze turns up the stairs instead, up to the next level, where a ghost lingers at the top, beckoning him with the distant noise of a broom shuffling along the floor. He stands there for a moment more, as he has done so many times before, wondering if he should approach. They haven’t spoken much since they got back. But it’s left him unfinished, unsettled; he has things to say and things to ask. So he climbs the stairs to the top and enters the room without knocking.

It’s a mess. The shelves have been emptied of their books, which now lie in scattered piles on the wooden floor. There are boxes and folders and trinkets stacked on the couch on the far wall, on the table by the door, on the chair behind the desk. The curtains have been removed, and the grey sunlight streams into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.

Levi glances up, a broom tight in his hands. “I’m cleaning,” is all he says.

A sinking pit sits in Eren’s stomach, and he suddenly wishes he had never come here. “I can tell,” he says quietly. “Do you need help?”

Levi sweeps in silence, drawing the brush across the floor in swift strokes. Eren stands at the door, waiting. He stands there for what feels like forever, and just as he’s about to turn around and dart back down the stairs, Levi sets the broom down and wipes his hands off.

“No,” he says. He turns his back to Eren and crosses to the desk, where a pile of sorted books have been slowly making their way into a carefully organized box. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Eren lies. He steps further into the room, unwrapping his cloak. He gestures to a pile of books at the foot of the desk. “Are you sorting those too?”

Levi glances up. “No,” he mutters, turning back to the box. “Those are Hange’s.”

Eren stands in the center of the room, his cloak hanging awkwardly off one arm, and he looks around at the remnants of the office. There was an old woman on his street, when he was a kid, who was dying slowly. It was only a matter of time before she was gone, and the neighbors took advantage of her. He remembers watching from the window as they took her life, one bit at a time: first, it was the chickens; then the gardening shears, then anything else lying out in the open. She wasn’t even dead before people scavenged her house.

That is what this feels like: taking a person’s life apart, one piece at a time, until there is nothing left of them.

Levi works in silence, and Eren crosses to the couch. He sets his cloak down on the back, then shuffles some books and papers aside to make a space for himself to sit. He is quiet for a moment, glancing around, still taking in the condition of this office.

He glances back to Levi. “What are you going to do with all this stuff?”

Levi inserts another book into the box; he’s stacking them carefully together, organized by shape and size, by whatever will fit. He doesn’t answer.

Eren glances down at his hands, at his bruises and blisters. “Listen,” he starts. His voice is soft, quiet, but the room is small enough, still enough, that he is sure Levi can hear him. “I, uh, I wanted to talk about what happened at Shiganshina."

Levi says nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Eren says into the silence. “So is Mikasa.”

He glances up at Levi, who continues to fill the box.

“We know we were out of line,” Eren says, “but we-“

He cuts himself off, his breath suddenly short. “I thought Armin was going to die,” he says. “And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything to save him.”

He looks back to his hands, to their cracks and bruises. “I just wanted to let you know that we know we were wrong- I mean, what we did was wrong, and we’re sorry, both of us.”

He pauses. “I’m still grateful. We both are. We couldn’t imagine if Armin-“

He sucks in a breath.

He glances up again, pursing his lips.

“Armin is sorry, too,” Eren says quietly.

For the first time, Levi makes any indication that he has been listening to what Eren has been saying. He scoffs, then mutters, “Armin has nothing to apologize for.”

“He feels guilty,” Eren says, raising his voice to be heard. “He knew he was going to die. I mean, he’s grateful to be alive, but he knows that it came at a price-“

“If he’s looking for someone to blame,” Levi grumbles, pushing another book in place, “tell him he can blame me.”

“He doesn’t want to blame you.”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s not the point, Levi,” Eren says. The name feels strange on his tongue, and he’s not sure he’s ever used it so informally before; it surprises him when it comes out of his mouth. But if it bothers Levi, then he doesn’t let it show. Things are different now, anyways.

“He’s not looking for anyone to blame,” Eren continues. “He’s looking for answers.”

He hesitates, then adds, “We all are.”

He doesn’t want to ask, but he needs to know. He clasps his hands together; they stick together with sweat, and he pulls them apart, rubs them on the couch, and glances back up at Levi.

“Why did you do it?” Eren asks, his voice soft. His words linger in the air for a long moment; Levi stops to listen, his hands stilled over the books, but he doesn’t turn around, and he doesn’t answer. Eren tries again. “Why did you choose Armin?”

“You’re asking this now?” is the grumbled response he gets.

“I’m just trying to understand,” Eren says. He hesitates, searching for delicate words; but he finds none, so he just speaks his mind. “Of course, I wanted to give the serum to Armin, and I’m glad that we did. But I don’t understand why you changed your mind. I thought we were going to fight over it.”

Levi grunts. “We did fight over it. I had a sword held to my neck.”

“I mean, I thought we were really going to have to fight you for it. I thought one of us would have to die for it.”

“Would you die for Armin?”

Eren raises his eyebrows. “Of course,” he says. Then his eyes darken and he says, “I have.”

“Then you should understand."

“I don’t-“ Eren exclaims, but he cuts himself off, frustrated. He furrows his brow, trying to piece together his thoughts, trying to make a picture out of the puzzle.

“I still don’t understand,” he continues after taking a breath. “I just don’t get why you changed your mind like that. I mean, your face when you saw that the Commander was still alive-“

“Why does it matter, Eren?” Levi says, finally turning around to face him head on. He looks tired, as usual, but the bags under his eyes are heavier, darker, and his voice is softer. He doesn’t seem angry: just defeated. “You got what you wanted: Armin’s alive. And we have much bigger things to worry about now, anyways. Why does this matter so much to you?”

Eren hesitates before answering, his mind racing. He swallows, then says, “You had to have a reason.”

Levi’s gaze searches over his face. “You mean, a motive.”

“I didn’t say that,” Eren says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You think I had other reasons for making that choice?”

“I just think you’re not telling me the truth,” Eren exclaims. “The whole truth.”

Levi stares at him then, and Eren immediately dislikes the quiet gaze that bores into him. Levi doesn’t say anything, not for a moment or two. Eren’s eyes flicker away, to the floor, to the books, to the sad way the sunlight shines on dust across the windowsill, but he always comes back to meet Levi’s eyes. He seems unsteady, uncertain. Eren doesn’t know quite what to make of it, but after a moment of intense silence, he gets the feeling that Levi may not know the whole truth either.

“Mikasa would have killed me to get her hands on that serum,” Levi says finally. He leans back against the desk and crosses his arms. “She got close, too.”

“She’s sorry,” Eren mutters, but Levi shushes him.

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“Sorry.”

“My point is,” Levi continues, “she didn’t hesitate. She never would. She never has. That’s not the first time she’s nearly killed me trying to save one of your asses.”

“I know that,” Eren says. “That doesn’t explain-“

“She would do anything for you two,” Levi says, “anything to keep you out of harm’s way, to prevent you from suffering any further than you already have.”

He says that like it means something, like it’s holding the answers that Eren came here looking for. Then he turns back to the desk, seemingly satisfied, and continues piling books in silence.

Eren furrows his brow. “I still don’t…”

He trails off, watching Levi work methodically, and waits for him to notice the silence and clarify. But he says nothing, does nothing, just keeps stacking books into boxes with his back to Eren.”

“I’m not sure that helped,” Eren says, louder.

Levi doesn’t turn around. “Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older.”

They stay in that silence for few minutes more. A gentle breeze blows in through the open window and shakes some of the papers lying on the floor. Levi finishes with one box, and just as soon as it’s packed up, he begins another, sorting through an endless stack of books to fit the ones that will best fit together. Eren watches him, watches the silver sunlight dance on the floor, until finally he lets out a long breath and stands up.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” he asks, tugging his cloak back over his shoulders. “It’s not like I have anything else to do, and… Commander Erwin had a lot of books.”

“It’s fine, Eren,” Levi says. “Go be with your friends.”

The sun has come out from behind the clouds when Eren steps back into the cobblestone courtyard, and he’s surprised to see the rest of his squad whacking at the weeds that have overgrown through the cracks in the stones. He joins them.

#snk #snk spoilers #eren yeager #levi ackerman #eruri #ish? it's implied #if u tag this as ereri ur blocked #emwrites

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