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kamaluhkhan · 3 months ago

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LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

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Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE!

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later.

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year.

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy.

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too.

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow.

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!”

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis.

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples.

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!”

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears.

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond.

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand.

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it.

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.”

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.”

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you.

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke.

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat.

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly.

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you.

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface.

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all.

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father.

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief.

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes.

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.”

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze.

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained.

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up.

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others.

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways.

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why.

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s.

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too.

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars.

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all.

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely.

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him.

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you.

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.”

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you.

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking.

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed.

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….”

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time.

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash.

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully.

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too.

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together.

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill.

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise.

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw.

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves.

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost.

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly.

it fell just as quickly.

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others.

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids.

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow.

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party.

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun.

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away.

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.”

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways.

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy.

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.”

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.”

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek.

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.”

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart.

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile.

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way.

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you.

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit.

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you.

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased.

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further.

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin.

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.”

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?”

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body.

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes.

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner.

so, it’s fine.

this, this thing with eros, is fine.

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.”

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden.

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin.

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words.

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not.

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more.

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger.

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.”

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego.

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers.

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into.

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while.

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it.

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies.

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.”

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over.

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really.

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you.

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief.

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while.

but that isn’t all.

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat.

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move.

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness.

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night.

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday.

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on.

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters.

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.)

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake.

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how.

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was.

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder.

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything.

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same.

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were.

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out.

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship.

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too.

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army.

and once it was all over?

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood.

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?”

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience.

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question.

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though.

by the end of august, you’d be gone too.

now

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope.

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst

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fazedlight · 3 months ago

Text

Dance

It was in the small touches, the quiet laughs, the cozy cuddles.

Kara couldn’t help the way her heart would race each movie night, as she and Lena curled up into their corner of the couch - and she could hear Lena’s heart race too. Is this what friends do?, Kara thought, noting how Alex and Kelly almost mirrored their positions nearby, as did Nia and Brainy.

She turned back to the television screen - as Jack held Rose close, the two tapping along the makeshift stage as they danced to the Irish band’s jig - and Kara felt a flutter in her chest. I want to dance with Lena like that, she thought, watching the third class dance below the decks of the Titanic.

But somewhere in her mind, just friends just friends just friends rang out. What if I’m misreading things?, Kara thought, a little forlorn as she held Lena a bit tighter.

-----

Kara watched as Lena turned towards the dance floor, her hips swaying as she strode away, and Kara couldn’t help but blush.

Lena was breathtaking. She was always breathtaking, of course - but that night, as the drinks wore on, as Lena’s tiny flirtatious touches got more and more frequent, as her black dress hugged at her figure and her smokey eyeshadow - Rao.

It wasn’t on purpose. It couldn’t be on purpose. Was it on purpose?, Kara thought, feeling the slight panic in her veins. She was happy, she was giddy, she was confused - and not really sure what to do next. J’onn nudged her to go enjoy herself, to go dance where Lena had joined with Alex and Kelly. And why not?

Kara shuffled out of the booth, intent to take Lena’s hand and give her a twirl. She sensed that Lena would welcome it, that this was a feeling that went both ways.

But when she reached the floor - Lena’s dark eyes wandering over her - Kara froze in a panic. Finding the rhythm of the music, she threw her arms out, making wild and silly motions. Peak goofy Kara Danvers.

… so she chickened out. It was worth it to hear Lena’s laugh.

-----

Kara cheered as Alex and Kelly finished their first dance as a married couple, the slow beats of the melody coming to a poignant end. Glancing around at smiling and clapping family, her eyes briefly caught Lena’s across the floor - Kara quickly looked away.

The music transitioned into something upbeat, and Kara found herself amongst the others making their way onto the dance floor. Brainy took immediately to the center, drawing more laughter, as J’onn spun Esme, and Kara found herself goofing off with Winn.

The evening passed as guests wandered on and off the dance floor, casual chatter and warm hugs creating a gentle atmosphere as the sun set. Fairy lights added a softness to the cool night, and Kara found herself feeling quietly content.

As she set down her drink, she heard a familiar heartbeat behind her. “Hey,” Lena said.

Kara turned, smiling warmly as she hugged Lena, still reeling from the emotional conversation they had earlier in the evening. Lena curled up into Kara’s arms, and Kara could feel the cool temperature of Lena’s skin along her fingers. She held Lena tighter, warding off the chill of the evening.

“This next one will be the last dance of the night, folks,” the DJ announced, as the song started coming to an end.

Kara could feel Lena tense in her arms. Kara took a small, shaking breath. C’mon, Kara, be brave, she thought to herself. It was time to take a leap. “Would you like to dance?” Kara murmured.

Lena pulled back, smiling softly. “Yes, please.”

Kara could hear Lena’s heart start to race, drowned out only by the pounding of her own as she led her to the dance floor. Is this happening, is this happening?, Kara asked herself, taking Lena’s hand into her own, feeling Lena’s other hand drift to her waist as Kara pulled her closer.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” Lena whispered.

“For how long?” Kara asked.

“For years.”

Kara grinned. “Sorry to make you wait so long.”

Lena placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Better late than never.”

-----

They couldn’t stop.

Gala events. Karaoke nights. Weddings (they may have gone a little nuts at Brainy and Nia’s). Blasting an old stereo at home. Kara pulled Lena into her arms, and they danced.

It was one night in their living room - after an incredible date, celebrating their first year together - when Kara spun Lena particularly fast. Lena spun out a few feet away, laughing as she came to a halt. She turned back at Kara - a bit surprised to not be in the kryptonian’s arms already - when she saw the blonde on the floor, down on one knee, holding a ring in her hand.

“I never want to stop dancing with you,” Kara said. “Marry me?”

“Yes,” Lena said.

-----

Their wedding was small and private. Lena had never wanted the performance of the spotlight, as much as she was used to it. And Kara was content to have their close family and friends present.

The ceremony was simple - exchanging wedding bracelets and wedding rings, as kryptonian wind chimes sounded melodically around them. Alura and Zor-El finally met Eliza, all too grateful for the Danvers family giving their daughter a home for years.

Dinner was had and cake was cut, and then music started to play. Kara swayed slowly with Lena during their first dance, twirling her new wife under her arm, Lena smoothly following. “I can’t believe we’re here,” Lena murmured in her ear. Kara smiled back.

As their slow dance came to an end, Kara pulled Lena in to cup her face, their lips meeting to the cheers of their family and friends. Kara grinned as they broke apart again, Lena mischievously quirking her eyebrows. After all, they both knew what would happen next.

A familiar Irish jig began to play. Kara tugged Lena close, slotting perfectly up against Kara’s body, as others began to rush to the dance floor. “Ready?” Kara grinned.

“Always,” Lena smiled.

-----------------------------------------------

Third Class Dance from Titanic

#supercorp #mel writes ficlets

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cherry-romper · 6 months ago

Text

Realising they like you

+ Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Porco, Pieck, Zeke

Warning; alcohol consumption

Eren; It was while you played in the ocean. You were messing around with Sasha when a piece of seaweed touched your foot. Having never seen seaweed before, you panicked and threw yourself at the nearest person for safety - that person was Eren Jeager. Taken aback by the sudden weight, he fell into the ocean, you along with him. You apologised profusely while helping him out of the water, but he just stood there. You watched him carefully as he moved the hair out his face. You worried that you might have hurt him during the fall, so you asked if he were alright. Again, you were met with silence. You looked back at the others for support, but were cut off by Eren laughing. He let out the most genuine belly-laugh you had ever heard. He was smiling like an idiot, keeling over as he clutched his stomach. Your heart squeezed, as did the others. Eren hadn't laughed, nor smiled, in months. You soon giggled along with him. You even held onto his arm for support. Once he'd calmed down, he looked at you, from your eyes to your lips. He uttered a small "thank you," before pulling you into a deep hug.

Mikasa; It was just a normal day. You had been doing your chores around the garrison and were now eating your fill, along side Connie and Sasha, in the mess hall. The two you were sat with were, once again, arguing over food. They bickered like children, throwing food and hurling insults at one another. You laughed at them, dodging the occasional piece of bread that came flying your way. Mikasa was stood at the door, staring at you in awe. The way the sun fell over your hair and framed you face was like something out of a renaissance paining. She admired your every crevice. From the way your nose curved to the shape of your lips as you smiled. She saw how your uniform draped over your shoulders as they bounced while you laughed. She was stood far away but could still see your eyes as the shone in the light. As far as she could tell, you were glowing. You were radiating serenity - the kind she'd been looking for her whole life. She'd never seen you in this light before, it caught her off guard. The more she watched on the darker her blush got.

Armin; He'd liked you since you were kids but fell head over heals for you when you saved him from a titan. He had been assigned a separate group from you during a mission beyond the walls and you were leading a rescue squad to his distress signal. You found him being cornered into a tree by two small titans. He was waving his swords at them helplessly, begging for them to not eat him. You made quick work of the two titans, cutting them both down in the same motion. He watched you wipe off your blades as you asked if he was alright. He was so thankful you'd saved him, he started babbling on about him repaying you. You shushed him and told him that if he were to make it out alive, that would be payment enough. He knew then he'd marry you.

Marco; When you were injured while on a mission beyond the walls. He'd never felt so strongly for someone before. He sat with you on the ride back into the walls, the whole time he was gawking at your injuries. He held onto your hand tightly while he cried into his sleeve. Jean, who was riding a horse next to the cart the two of you were in, asked why he was so upset, you'd survived hadn't you? Marco just shrugged, unsure how to answer, but the aching in his heart answered for him. He stared at Jean, a broken expression on his face. Jean knew, just from that look, that Marco loved you.

Jean; On a day off you'd gone to the market place. There was a band playing in the square. Some people were drinking and laughing, others were just passing through. There was a group of people dancing to the music. You and Jean watched on in awe. You were mesmerised by the way the women's dresses flowed as they danced and Jean watch as the men moved freely as they sways their partners around. While you watched on, someone pulled you in. You were a little shocked, but took to it straight away and started dancing with the others. Jean eyes gazed over your dancing figure. You were beautiful. Truly beautiful. He was so entranced by you he hadn't notice you nearing him. You stood in front of him and gave him a mischievous smile. He cocked a brow at your expression, but before he could ask you pulled him into the circle. His hand naturally glided to your waist and yours to his shoulder, your bodies held close. The two of you swayed together in rhythm with the music. His chest tightened as he stared at your smile. There was no doubt in his mind, he loved you.

Connie; You'd both been drinking. While it wasn't illegal to drink at your age, but it wasn't smart. You both knew you had training in the morning but you drank anyways. Connie had convinced you, or vice versa, at this point you couldn't remember. Neither of you were light-weights but between you, you'd had gone through nearly a barrel of ale. You didn't feel as drunk as you were but still you ended up throwing up really badly. Maybe it was the fact that this was your first time drinking in months or the fact you and the ale tasted like shit, either way, you were hacking up as much as your body would let you. Connie panicked a little, you were both in no fit state and it was hard too see in the dark, but you were his first priority. He comforted you, moving any hair out of the way as you threw up. After a while, you'd appeared to have finished, or at least calmed down. The two of you slumped down against a tree. You tried to say sorry but the soreness of your throat wouldn't let you. He shushed you, pulling your head against his shoulder. He told you to rest, he explained that he'd take responsibility for the two of you being late in the morning. While you rested, he could hear you softly snoring to yourself, a sting of dribble hanging from your mouth. He thought you were so cute. And even though you were in a vulnerable position, you trusted him to take care of you and that meant the whole world to him.

Sasha; You'd gone hunting with her and finally managed to kill the boar you'd wanted to for weeks. In celebration, you flung your arms around her nuzzling your face into her neck as you squealed with joy. She felt so warm and fuzzy, she hadn't felt that way before. It was new, refreshing even; like a breath of fresh air. She held you there, close to her chest, for a few moments more before she began jumping for joy with you. On the way back to camp, you both gushed over what dish you were going to cook with all the meat you now had.

Levi; You left him a note one day when you were sent on a mission. It read: while I am gone, remember to stay healthy. Asshole. Notes were your thing, but for some reason this one made Levi's heart skip a beat, a rare smile found it way across his cheeks.He replied to the note in his head: as long as you promise to come back to me, dumbass. He wouldn't admit it aloud but he was giddy with excitement waiting for you to return.

Hange; You brought them a Titan back from one of your missions. It was one that they'd had a hard time capturing, an abnormal beyond the walls that Hange desperately wanted to study; they'd already named it Alexander. When they realised you'd risked your life to help their studies and free humanity, they knew you meant more to them than they could fathom.

Erwin; You'd been gone for nearly a month. Your convoy had been spilt up from the main unit and everything had gone horrible wrong. You were outside the walls for 3 and a half weeks before you found your way back. You and one other in your unit had survived, out of the 28 that been split. When he saw your face he nearly fainted. Your whole unit had been presumed dead, the probability of your survival was less than 0.067%. You and your other comrade were malnourished and dehydrated, they had lost an arm in the carnage. You only survived because of the sacrifices made by the other members of your unit, who'd unknowing donated their gas and gear through their deaths. No one could believe it, you both became legends, both being awarded medals for your bravery. It wasn't like Erwin to loose his composer but you seemed like an angel in that moment, as you were brought to the safety of the walls. He stared through you, like you weren't real, his legs moving on their own as he stumbled to you, slumping his arms around you, pulling you in for an embrace he swore he'd never release.

Reiner; You followed him. After he betrayed everyone and left with Bertholdt and Ymir. You followed him on your own volition. He was at a loss for words, he betrayed you, as if he'd murdered your friends and family with his own hands. Still you were soft with him, asking if he was okay, telling him you'd be fine no matter what happened, you'd stay with him. You knew he didn't want to do the things he was forced to do, and you were willing to hear him out. He just listen to you talk, slack-jawed, that someone as kind as you had come into his life to guide him down the right path. He was in awe of you and he knew he'd do whatever it takes to keep you safe in Marley.

Bertholdt; You knew his secret and confronted him about it. You told him after everything you still loved him and that if he needed saving you'd be right there to do it. They were the words he'd wanted to hear his whole life and he was so happy they'd come from you. He sought comfort in you from then on and invited you to talk with Reiner about going back with them.

Annie;

It was while she was in her crystal, you had visited her any chance you got, explaining the situation to her. You'd known she was the female titan before her reveal, and you confessed that too her crystal. You cried as you explained that you wish you could have stopped her, or at least found a way to help her. You been talking to Reiner about it all, as you figured out their secret to. He'd agreed to take you to Liberio with them, as long as you pledged allegiance to Marley. They were empty words, but you did so anyways, and conjured up a plan to rescue her.

Porco;

He'd known for a while that he liked you but being the stubborn ass he is, he denied and denied his feelings until it was you who confessed to him. He had convinced himself that relations like that were pointless, given his limited lifespan. During your confession, you mentioned that even though he didn't have long to live you were happy with any amount of time with him because your forever could be even better than nothing at all. He was at a loss for words, in disbelief that you'd be willing to go through that for him.

Pieck;

She'd liked you for years, but never really found the time to talk about it with you because she'd been deployed to Paradis. The most casual confession known to man. You were sure she hadn't realised what she'd said. She'd finished reading a book she'd recommended a millennium ago and were talking to her over how the characters had fallen for one another. She simply replied with "yeah, I think he fell for her the same way I fell for you, Y/N". You eyed her cautiously, she wasn't even looking at you, she was just sorting through her papers. A gargled string of flustered sounds made it way out of you mouth in response, unable to form a real sentence. Finally she looked up from her work, smiling at you knowing, she had no doubts that you liked her back so she felt no need to tip-toe around the subject.

Zeke;

He knew when you were walking along the docs with him. He was having a smoke, basking in the sunset, it was the calmest he'd felt in months. Looking to you, he saw that you were messing around with a piece of seaweed that had found its way to the waters surface. He saw how you absentmindedly played with it, it brought him peace that you could still find joy in the little things, despite what you had witnessed. Seeing you lit by the setting sun, finding solace in his company was enough to solidify the rising emotions in his heart.

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books-and-omens · 1 year ago

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ohhhhhh d’you know what the ball reminds me of? all the glitter and the dancing? with the roiling green mist beyond the large glass windows?

the Titanic.

a ship going down, the band still playing, the lights still on

We are perfectly safe in here, Aziraphale insists as the deck starts to list

#good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens #the ball is SO eerie #they are SO not human #everything is SO wrong #and also this is so well done

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literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

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Writing Notes: Parts of Speech

These definitions explain the 8 parts of speech in the English language.

Noun

A noun identifies a person, place, thing, or idea.

Common nouns are generic: girl, boy, city, ship, desk, courage

Proper nouns are specific: Juliet, Romeo, St. Louis, Titanic

Pronoun

A pronoun renames or refers back to the person, place, thing or idea mentioned earlier in a sentence.

Personal pronouns: I, me, you, they, them, she, her, he, him, it, we, us

Relative pronouns: who, whom, whose, which, that, what

Interrogative pronouns (used in questions): who, which, what, whose

Demonstrative pronouns: this, that, these and those

Indefinite pronouns (a partial list): all, anybody, anyone, both, each, everyone, everybody, many, none, several, someone

Verb

A verb expresses action or state of being. “Helping” verbs (such as modals and auxiliary verbs) are used with base verbs to make a verbal phrase.

Action verbs: see, run, jump, sing, study, dance, cry, shout, buy, sell, fix, think, wonder, etc.

State of being verbs: am, is, was, were, will be, became, appear, seem, look, feel, etc.

Modal verbs: can, could, will, would, shall, should, ought, must, may, might, etc. These verbs are found in verbal phrases, seldom by themselves: can see, will run, might study, must sell, etc.

Auxiliary verbs: am, is, are, was, were, have, had, etc.

In a verbal phrase, remember that the modal or auxiliary verb may be separated from the main verb, especially in a question:

Did you hear me call?

She is not going with us.

How long have you been working at McDonald’s?

Adjective

An adjective describes or modifies a noun or pronoun: For example:

brown eyes

that person

ten players

Adjectives tell...

what kind: brown eyes

which one: that person

how many: ten players

Adverb

An adverb modifies or describes a verb, adjective, or another adverb. It usually answers “question” statements: how? when? where? why? how often? how much? to what degree?

The orchestra played beautifully. (How?)

The band has played there. (Where?)

The choir sang long. (To what extent?)

He is extremely capable. (How capable?)

She danced very slowly. (How slowly?)

Preposition

A preposition shows a relationship between a noun/pronoun and another word. Most prepositions show motion toward a place or location of an object. The English language has more than 40 prepositions, including: above, across, behind, below, down, in, off, on, under, through, into, of, on account of, in spite of, etc.

Conjunction

A conjunction joins words or groups of words. There are three major classes of conjunctions in English:

Subordinate conjunctions: when, while, although, because, since, if, until, even though, etc.

Coordinate conjunctions: for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so

Correlative conjunctions (used in pairs): neither/nor; either/or; not only/ but also; both/and

Interjection

An interjection expresses an emotion such as delight, surprise, or disgust. It usually appears at the beginning of a sentence and often is followed by an exclamation point:

(Delight) Wow! Gosh! Golly!

(Surprise) Oh! Ah! Yikes! Gee!

(Disgust) Yuck! Ugh! Bah!

Note: A Word as More Than One Part of Speech

Remember, a word can be used as more than one part of speech. The function of a word determines what part of speech it is.

For example:

Appearances can be deceiving. (Can is a modal verb)

The tin can of tomatoes is dented. (Can is a noun)

We should can peaches and plums. (Can is an action verb)

The French actress danced the can-can. (Can-can is a noun-noun)

#writing resources #studyblr #dark academia #booklr #writeblr #literature #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #writing reference #grammar #linguistics #english #lit #writing tips #writing advice #writing refresher

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amywritesthings · 1 year ago

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silver underground. / chapter 18.*

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 5.6k Summary: flashback eight - also known as your first time with levi ackerman Warnings: NSFW!! MINORS DNI - first time, oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), fingering, body worship, pinning, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), smut w/feelings

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 18 - FLASHBACK: EIGHT*

He doesn’t stop kissing you.

Not when you both stand up in the empty supply room. Not when you stumble blindly into the hallway, cutting corners and trusting his guidance.

Two pairs of boots scramble as quietly as they can down a long, dark corridor, rushing to disappear from plain sight.

Gently Levi presses you into something sturdy and cold, lips still locked with yours. The captain's hands fumble from your waist to his pockets, digging to search for a key that will unlock his bedroom door.

All that remains in the silence are soft pants, controlled with the worry that someone — several someones — can ruin this moment.

His kisses are open-mouthed and messy as he travels from your mouth, to your jaw, to your neck. You bend your head back with the utmost care, pressing your own lips together to avoid the noises of pleasure bubbling in your throat.

He presses a final peck at the center of your neck, as if to thank you for being so quiet once the key is freed from his pocket — and the door clicks.

Quickly Levi shoves the door open and circles his free arm around the small of your back, keeping you flush against his body. You comply, dancing through the threshold of his bedroom, and cradle his face into your palms to bring his lips back to yours.

Nothing has to be said.

Nothing has to be asked.

It’s just instinct — your feet drag backwards while his push forward into the bedroom, bringing you both safely out of the wandering eyes of the Survey Corps.

His boot swivels, causing you both to turn at his will. Your back hits a door once again, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss.

“Shhh,” he urges as he backs away to catch his breath. "Can you stay quiet for me?"

Click.

You grin the second the door locks behind you and whisper back. “Haven’t I always?”

His eyes open. Those brilliant gray eyes with specs of blue, intense and so focused; his pupils are blown — caught somewhere in the dark and the fierce arousal you both feel.

“Don’t get smart,” he tells you, but you know it’s about as much of a joke as he can make in the moment.

You don’t even realize until he dips his head that he’s worked on unbuttoning nearly half of your Scout uniform shirt, exposing your chest band and torso to the cool night air.

“Levi—”

His teeth nip at your collarbone. “Silent.”

The order does something to you — a vacant authority that comes with little punishment. He won’t stop unless he’s forced to or unless you ask, and there’s no circumstance in Hell where you would.

You press your lips together again, willing your eyes to stay open, to see Levi work his way to kiss every inch of your neck, your collarbone, your sternum.

You want him to cover every inch of you, leaving no patch of skin untouched. You want every part of your body to be his.

Dropping your hands from his face, you begin to push the small brown uniform skirt from your hips to drop to the floor. The fabric gives easily. It's the damn leather ODM straps that become your greatest enemy, refusing to release when you struggle with the fastens.

At first you think Levi doesn’t notice the struggle. He’s so busy running his hands along your sides, slipping the tips of his fingers past your button-down to finally touch skin.

But then his hands leave you.

You almost speak up to protest, but—

“Let me.”

He looks you in the eye for permission.

You stare back, wide-eyed and confused.

“What?”

“I said,” he slowly repeats, moving closer, “let me.”

Inch by inch, Levi disappears from your line of sight and down your chest, your stomach, until he’s eye-level with the elaborate belts looping your thighs.

Oh.

Your breath exhales in a sharp twist at the sight of his slender fingers running along the brown leather, feeling for where the buckle begins and the straps meet.

For a moment he stays right here, dragging his fingertips back and forth.

Contemplating. Savoring.

Your face flushes when he leans in to press a ghostly kiss to the meat of your thigh between the straps. His pink lips are a stark contrast to the white fabric.

It's much too erotic to bear.

“I might fall,” you warn him softly.

“I’d catch you,” he promises right back.

You believe him.

(You’ll always believe him.)

Expertly he unravels the first group of leather straps, relieving your thighs of the pressure from such elaborate crossings. Levi makes it a point to drag the straps down your leg himself, not allowing the straps to hit the floor on their own to eliminate any potential noise.

Eager fingertips seek fast work on the other.

“Hold onto me if you feel unsteady,” he murmurs, briefly looking up to you as he starts on your right thigh.

Then you realize all too late — he has no intentions to return from his knees.

He's staying right there on the floor.

You know what he plans to do once he rids you of your trousers, and it shoots an otherworldly feeling to your lower belly.

“Levi?” you whisper sharply.

He doesn’t answer. Instead he works faster to remove the straps, tugging them down your leg to meet the left set.

“Levi—”

He only glances up once he's through with dismantling the strap belt. You press a hand to his when it moves towards the button of your ivory trousers, forcing him to stop.

“Something wrong?” he asks reluctantly, fingers still pinched against the button — subconsciously begging to get rid of his godforsaken clothing.

You swallow to coat your throat, looking down at him.

“No, it’s just… You don’t have to—”

Do that, you want to say.

Yet you pause as soon as Levi flashes a warning glare to you, like you’ve insulted him.

“Three."

Your brows knit. “...what?”

He purposefully pops the buttons of your trousers to challenge your insecurity.

“I once told you when we had our own place, I always said I’d give you three. This is about as good as we’ll ever get while we’re alive.”

You blink in a flurry but relent with the sway of your hips when his fingertips tap at your outer thigh: move.

Slowly but surely, your white trousers glide down your thighs, your knees, until they rest at the soles of your boots.

You kick one off then the other, never breaking eye contact.

“My fingers have been inside you more times than I can count,” he murmurs, kissing the bare skin of your thigh with a relaxed inhale through his nose, drinking in the scent of you. You press a hand against the doorframe for stability. “But I have to know what you taste like.”

The words shoot arousal like a bolt of lightning through your body.

“But you’ve already—”

“On my fingers, yeah, but not on my tongue,” he argues breathlessly, shaking his head. “Not the same.”

Another bolt, sliced straight to your core.

“Levi—”

“And once I memorize that,” he continues, not paying attention to you as he presses gentle yet urgent kisses to the east, closing in on your inner thigh. He coaxes your leg with the soft push of his free hand, spreading your thighs just for him. “And only once I memorize that, I’ll…”

He trails off, deciding against his words as he realizes that, when his back is straightened, he is eye-level at your underwear.

The black-haired man reaches for your hip, drawing a semicircle with his thumb at your hip bone.

Stalling — not for himself, but for you, in case there is a sliver of a doubt about this.

You answer by shifting your weight on your other leg, spreading your thighs further for him. The dark-haired man lets out an exhale like you’ve punched him square in the gut, gaze flickering to yours — message received.

Levi leans forward, nuzzling your inner thigh with his cheek. You tense, forcing yourself to watch his head turn inwards to kiss the softness. His eyes flutter close like he’s found his paradise, like the very venture of traveling up your thigh with every kiss gives him relief.

The tip of his tongue sensually flicks at the edge of your underwear, and your hand grips his hair with quick surprise.

One tug and he’s smirking, open-mouthed and simply intoxicated, with hot breath gliding across the thin fabric.

He kisses the center of your mound over your underwear, and you both make a noise of want.

His tongue darts back out, catching the wetness that has dampened the fabric. In one fell swoop he yanks your underwear down, like one taste is enough to relinquish all doubt.

You barely remember your own name when he parts your folds with his thumbs and dives in like a starving man possessed, collecting the wetness against his nose as his tongue slides through your folds to find the one spot he knows will have you buckling at the knees.

For someone who has never done this before, Levi is thorough. He notes every which way you drag your nails through his hair, scratching at his scalp; how you make a small gasp if he hits a spot that jolts pure pleasure through your system; when your thighs tremble, so he does not relent.

You have to practically break your own vocal chords to avoid shouting when his tongue flicks your clit. Your hand tightens painfully in his hair, but he grunts and keeps going.

Levi swirls his tongue with a relentless determination. Like he’s been waiting for this moment, like he’s dreamed of tasting and teasing you — and you have to do everything in your power not to falter in your stance.

The frame of his bedroom door only has so much support.

Your head drops back against the wooden slab as he licks, sucks, and worships you while kneeling in front of you. His attention focuses on your clit, tongue flicking at an obscene rhythm.

If you look down, you’ll come.

If you watch him, you’ll fall.

So instead your jaw drops in a wordless plea, and he sucks against the sensitive nub in response. You hear the leather beneath you shuffle and his hands leave your core, running along your thighs, to hold your hips flush to the door.

He knows — know you’re getting there, from the way you’re squirming.

You didn’t even notice. You were too lost in the sensation.

Your eyes slide open, heavy-lidded and dark with lust, to see Levi lost in eating you out, his mouth buried against you, eyes closed in serene desire.

That’s all it takes.

“Levi—” you breathe, higher pitched than usual. “Levi, Levi, Le—”

You can’t finish the next syllable before your knees buckle, and he shoves you hard against the door to keep you steady — to make you ride this out on his tongue. The surface rattles only just a little from impact.

Your climax hits like a ton of bricks, and you force yourself to wordlessly cry out from the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your system.

His gray eyes glance up from your core, tongue still attacking your clit before he drags lower, catching your essence with his mouth.

Drinking you down to the very last drop.

When it becomes too much, you thrash a little against his hold.

He pulls away to catch his breath, lips slick and swollen from his work. He looks…

Satisfied. Eager.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and he chuckles under his breath.

Slowly he gets off the floor, uniform creaking in the silence of the night. When you start to dip lower, to return the favor, he pushes you back into the door by the shoulder and shakes his head.

“I wasn’t done with you,” he says, voice a mere husk of itself.

You can smell the faint scent of yourself on his breath when he leans in, his hip pressing to yours. He’s hard as a rock.

“Levi,” you whimper when his hand returns to your inner thigh. “I wanna take care of you—”

“That can wait,” he interrupts, before placing his left hand over your mouth. Your eyes widen with confusion, but when his right hand disappears between your legs to collect more wetness, you understand why.

You yelp into his palm when he circles your sensitive clit with his thumb.

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” he purrs in your ear, voice low. “I know you're sensitive, I know, but you can do it.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head when his fingers glide through your wet folds to tease your entrance. Yet you open up to him like a flower, spreading your legs further to give him more room to work with. You feel his lips curl upward against your earlobe.

“C’mon, James.”

A strangled, pathetic little whimper exits your mouth when his middle finger pushes into your, up to the knuckle, slowly massaging against your inner walls.

“How’d you like it again? Two fingers? Three?”

You feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven with the filth coming out of his mouth. It isn’t even overtly lewd, but the sheer baritone of his voice in your ear is only making it that much easier to fight through the oversensitivity.

He adds his index finger and you whine.

“Right — you like two,” Levi remembers, “and you usually don’t last long if I—”

Your body goes limp, giving into his work when his fingers curl and tap the little spot that always gives him what he wants. He fingers you, shallow in his movements as he keeps curling the two, allowing the heel of his palm to rub against your aching clit.

“There she is,” he encourages. “There’s my girl.”

If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be mortified at how easily he works you to ruin.

“Does it feel good?”

You make a noise against his hand and nod eagerly, and he laughs gently in your ear.

“Good.”

You let him play you like a well-loved instrument, his movements relentless and certain. The rhythm is one he’s perfected, and you know — you know he’ll get what he wants in a matter of minutes.

You’re already sensitive from the first orgasm. A second won’t take long.

He continues to murmur sweet nothings in your ear — praises laced with your first name, how much he loves watching you like this — and you know you’re no match for him.

Your walls clench around him and soon enough you tumble, dropping your forehead to his shoulder as you tremble through your second climax of the night.

You feel weightless in the moment, a finite speck of dust in space, surrounded by the scent of your friend, your partner, your lover —

For a moment, the outside world doesn’t exist.

He finally removes his palm from your mouth to kiss you gently on the lips, and you’re awoken with the realization that you still taste yourself.

Your eyes open to find him watching you, making sure you’re okay.

You’re more than okay.

You let your body take over, wants over needs, and your hands push him roughly from you.

The captain stumbles in surprise. His gray eyes betray his shock, wide and confused, until he trips and falls back on the bed in the middle of the small room. The mattress gently creaks under his weight.

Before he can protest, you drop to your knees on the small rug at the edge of the bed.

“James—”

“Shut up,” you breathe, rising to grab his belt.

Hastily, you rip it from the trouser loops. You're not as elegant at pulling off the leather straps as he is, but they come off all the same.

Levi sits up on the mattress, pushing wayward strands of hair from your face.

“James, wait, you don’t have to—”

“Ackerman.”

You stare up at him, only then realizing just how hard he is. He must hurt from the way the outline of his cock presses, strains, against the white fabric of his trousers.

“I’ve been dying to taste you, too, you know. And you’ve never let me before, so I'm asking now: let me.”

All of the air leaves his lungs, and a shell of Levi Ackerman remains above you.

His eyes are wide as saucers, trying to justify the sight of you on his knees in front of him.

He doesn’t stop you when you unbutton his uniform. He doesn’t move when you lean in to kiss the bare skin of his abdomen.

“Shit. If you do this—” he starts, finding his breath, “—I’m sure as fuck not going to last.”

“Your confidence in me is guaranteed to inflate my ego,” you tease, pushing at his side. “C’mon. Lay back. Let me.”

Levi moves a fraction of muscle, but then he shakes his head. He lifts his hips, and to your delight he helps you remove his boxer briefs and trousers in one fell swoop. His cock springs free, achingly hard and twitching for attention.

“No,” he protests, “I want to watch.”

You brighten with delight, scooting closer. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes,” he breathes. “Are you insane?”

You can’t help but giggle when your hand reaches to wrap around his length, careful not to hurt him. His knuckles turn white as he tightens his fists against his white sheets.

Truth be told, you’ve had your hands on Levi numerous times. You know what speed he likes. You know the pressure.

What you don’t know, however, is this: how to expertly get him off with your mouth, not in the way he so easily brought you to ruin.

Still, you stare up at him as you steady his cock and lick a stripe from bottom to top — flat against his shaft, traveling to the tip.

You’ve never seen Levi look so speechless by something so small.

“Oh, fu-uck,” he curses under his breath, a curtain of his hair hanging against his forehead as he forces himself to keep his eyes on your mouth.

His own goes slack, lips parted, and a flush peppers his pale cheeks.

It instill confidence, so you lick again, focusing your tongue on the tip of him. He tastes clean, like nothing really in particular, besides a tinge of saltiness.

But it isn’t until you close your mouth gently over the head of his cock that he loses himself. His bare thighs tremble as you work his length with your hand while your mouth gets used to a shallow bob, focusing primarily on his tip.

His voice disappears. His breaths are tighter and a little higher pitched than before. Cracked.

“Shit,” he croaks when you hollow your cheeks around him. “Fuck, James, shit—”

You feel powerful like this.

You get why he was so determined to put his mouth on you now.

You want to memorize this version of Levi Ackerman — so put together for the rest of the world, only to fall apart by every movement of your tongue.

“Stop.”

It’s barely a word, but you catch it within a few seconds.

You remove him from your mouth with a lewd pop, worried you might have used teeth or hurt him.

Levi has a hand on your shoulder to keep you from returning to his cock.

“I almost came,” he explains, embarrassed by his admission.

“What? But I didn’t—” You stop yourself, surprised. “I barely did anything.”

“Yeah, dipshit,” Levi under his breath, trying to catch it. “You think I need more than the image of your lips around my cock to do it for me?”

“Oh.” You wipe your lips, before smiling wickedly. “...I’m that good, huh?”

“Get the hell up here,” Levi demands, pulling you up from your armpits so he can toss you onto the mattress.

You laugh into the night air as he shifts, pressing his weight against you as he cradles his elbows around your head, caging you in.

Skin to skin.

The night's significance isn’t lost on you — lying in a king-sized bed, naked, with Levi Ackerman. To think you both used to squeeze on a twin mattress for the sake of falling asleep together. To think neither of you had ever witnessed each other’s bodies in full, clothes discarded all over the floor of his captain’s quarters.

He hovers over you, his hair framing his face in a darkened halo. You stare up at him, admiring the sweat pebbling across his forehead.

The faint glow of the moon is your only source of light; a familiar comfort.

For a few moments you both catch your breath, admiring one another like this. You want to ask. You’re sure he’s going to say no. It’s been the question on your minds for years, but now it’s—

“Do you want to?”

Levi asks first, but he doesn’t shy away from his own nervousness.

You take a moment to make sure he isn’t going to back out, before nodding.

“More than anything.”

An emotion flickers in his eyes as he regards you, before shifting your right thigh with his hand. You easily follow, widening your hips to him. He presses your inner leg to his hip, swallowing.

“I don’t…”

“What?”

Levi closes his eyes, exhaling his anxiety away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your hands reach between your bodies to cradle his face, and he relents immediately to lean his cheek to your palm. “When have you ever hurt me?”

“A couple of times.”

“Fighting doesn’t count.”

“James,” Levi pleads, before opening his eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“So we learn together,” you argue back, raising your chin to kiss the tip of his nose. “And I’ll let you if it hurts, I promise. It’s not like you can rail me with everyone downstairs anyw—”

Levi stops you from your joke with a searing kiss to your lips, pushing your other thigh to the side so he can settle between your legs.

“Don't give me ideas, you little shit," he mumbles against your lips. "Maybe next time."

You smile, running your hands down his neck to rest on his shoulders. "Definitely next time."

For a few minutes, that's all you do. Kiss — kiss him, be kissed, relish and memorize.

The longer he kisses you, the more this becomes real.

Neither of you have ever done this, yet you’ve never felt more ready in your life.

Your body screams to have him, to finally know him, and you hope it’ll be enough — that you will be enough.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you whisper, and he sits up on his calves for a moment.

“An idea, yeah,” he jokes, reaching into the nearby nightstand.

You blink, surprised to see him return with a small square packet in hand. The moment almost completely takes you out of your nervousness.

When he notices the way you stare up at him, he cautiously adds: “Regiment issued. Didn’t think I’d ever need to use it, but…”

“Oh,” you breathe, unable to hide the shock. “No, it’s just—”

“They don’t want accidents in the Scouts.”

“Right.”

“And it’s not like people aren’t fucking.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

A beat passes.

Unable to help yourself, you begin to smirk. “...so you only have one of those, or—?”

Levi rolls his eyes and breaks with you, letting out a huff of a laugh as he swats your knee wider. He rolls the protection down the length of him, careful in his application.

“If you want to do this again, then I’ll steal a pack.”

“Wow, it really pays to have captain privileges,” you hum sagely, and he quickly crawls back over you to shut you up with a passionate kiss. You happily accept the eager press of his lips to distract you from the way he gently situates a pillow under your lower back, raising your hips to sit flush with his hips.

You both remain like this for a while, kissing your worries away, before something foreign presses up against your entrance. You gasp, breaking the kiss.

Levi stares down at you with kinetic lust.

“...are you sure about this, James?”

Are you?

It isn’t even a question. You've wanted this for years.

You shift your hips, nudging the tip of his cock at your entrance. He sucks in a sharp breath, calming his excitement.

“Never been so sure in my life,” you promise. “I want you.”

Levi pauses, nodding. “If it hurts at all—”

“I know.”

“—because we can stop at any time—”

“Levi Ackerman, please fuck me already.”

Six simple words make his pupils dilate.

His breath tickles your face when he exhales, lining himself up. Although one hand stays steady on his cock to guide himself into you, another reaches for your hand resting parallel to your head on the mattress. His fingers entwine with yours, squeezing with reassurance as he pins you down — I got you.

Then he pushes, and you both gasp in harmony at the sensation.

Slowly, inch by inch, Levi works himself deeper into you. It’s a stretch you’ve never felt in your entire life.

He distracts you once the tip of him is fully inside of you by circling your clit, making you choke on a breath. The pleasure burns, relaxing your body to take him deeper.

Then it happens all at once: he backs up, sliding deliciously against your walls, before pushing forward — bottoming out within you.

Levi’s entire body is so tense as he stills, waiting for you to get used to him. Maybe it’s for himself, too, but you stare up at the ceiling with an unbelievable feeling in your belly:

This is really happening. Levi’s really inside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, strained.

You wait a moment to adjust, then nod.

“Can I move?”

You nod again, more adamant this time.

The hand holding yours shakes as he rocks his hips, pulling out then pushing back in. There is a noise that bubbles in the back of his throat, like this is the most painfully pleasurable experience of his life, and you use your free hand to drag your nails down his back.

Levi hisses, pushing back into you. “Fuck, you feel so good—”

He continues slowly, getting used to the sensation, the motion, the sounds, the scents.

Not once does he let go of your hand, and you squeeze in return.

You raise your knees to press against his hips, bringing him deeper, and he drops his forehead to your chest.

He kisses the tiny silver pendant at your sternum.

“More,” you beg.

“Are you sure—”

“Please,” you interrupt.

He swallows to prepare himself and nods against your shoulder.

"Anything you want." He grunts when his hips thrust once more. "Anything, it's yours."

Levi starts to fuck you, the room reverberating with the sound of his efforts and the mixture of gentle moans. He gains more confidence the more noises you make against his temple. Your body arches into the movement as the pain dissipates purely into pleasure.

You hold onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist in a way that drives him insane. You can tell solely by the way he praises you in sharp huffs, lost in the moment.

He raises his head to capture your lips in a messy kiss, thrusting into you like his life depends on it.

You hold on, moving against him as you try to remember to breathe.

"Fuck��"

He pulls away to catch his breath with a curse, eyes still closed.

“—I love you.”

You momentarily freeze as Levi keeps going, the muscles of his arms and back tensing every time his hips snap up and into you.

Your eyes snap open, watching his face screw together in the faint glow of the moon.

You know you didn’t imagine that.

You know he just said those words.

Every fiber of your body burns brighter, hotter, at three little words.

You hold him closer to yourself, moving against him as he thrusts, realizing at that very moment the three words you’d been searching to say your entire life to him.

To the boy you shared bread with in the tavern.

To the teen who stole your first kiss on your birthday.

To the man who makes love to you now after you both defied all odds and survived the harshest winters and the searing summers and everything in-between without giving up.

He is your best friend. He is your partner in crime.

(He is the other half of your moon, your stars, your life.)

“I love you, too,” you breathe in return.

Levi’s thrusts instantly slow.

Reality crashes down while he opens his gray eyes, the little blue specs around his irises staring down at you with a wordless fear — he realizes, then, what he's said.

And he realizes, too, what you've said back.

That fear melts to pure, unadulterated relief.

You can’t help but smile up at him when he runs a shaking hand over your cheek with such gentleness that you almost want to cry.

“Yeah?” Levi asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. “I do.”

He smiles before snapping his hips against yours. You squeak, and he repositions himself to hit that little spot inside of you that he always seems to catch with his fingers.

“I love you," he repeats, purposefully this time.

You arch when his fingers reach to circle your clit, unrelenting, as he almost makes you shriek from his efforts.

"Levi—"

“Fuck, James, I love — I’ve always loved you.”

Levi doesn’t slow down this time.

He watches you squirm and whimper his name as he tells you, over and over, the same three words.

I love you.

It’s overwhelming. It’s paradise.

You feel yourself tightening around his cock, and he groans.

You won’t be able to last much longer, and you reckon he isn’t far behind either.

His hips stutter, groans getting a fraction louder and more urgent, as he coaxes you through your third and most devastating orgasm yet.

He feels the punishing force that your body clenches around him as you near your release and topples over to keep fucking you to the edge. His fingers maintain the same speed at your clit, a deadly combination, and a deep throb spreads through your entire body when your climax hits.

It's otherworldly. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced in your entire life.

Levi presses a devastating kiss to your lips to drink down the way you cry out his name — and to keep himself from moaning too loud when he finally comes right after you.

His hips stutter, trying to give you everything he has until you fall limp in his arms.

Then you catch him when he slumps, exhausted and spent.

The room is quiet.

The crickets chirp outside the open window.

(It's a singular, precious moment of peace.)

Levi continues to tremble against you, breathing through his nose as he climbs down from the euphoria of what just happened. You want to cry. You want to laugh. You want to hold him and never let go.

His shaking hand reaches for yours blindly, and you meet him in the middle.

One by one, your fingers lace.

After a few minutes, you realize that he's still shaking like a leaf. You kiss his forehead when he gently pulls out of you, only to collapse against your side on the mattress.

"You alright?" you whisper. "You're trembling."

"Yeah," he whispers back, voice light. "Just... give me a minute."

"Okay."

While lying on your sides, Levi moves to pull you against him, forehead to forehead.

You close your eyes, willing the tremors to disappear. Eventually they do, and he relaxes.

"Was that alright?" he murmurs after some time, fingers softly stroking your naked side.

"I've had better," you tease, and it makes him huff out a laugh.

"Yeah? Damn."

You can't help but grin, nuzzling your nose against his. "We're definitely going to need that pack."

"Several," he agrees.

"The whole Scout ration."

"The whole Scout ration?" he repeats with drowsy surprise. "Are you trying to make an honest man out of me?"

"Contraceptives don't make honest men," you reply. "Rings do."

"It kind of looks like of a ring—"

You gasp at his crude joke. "Levi."

Both of you burst into exhausted laughter, intoxicated by what's transpired. You feel high in this afterglow only the poets have ever rightly captured.

The laughter dies, leaving you both to enjoy the time you have left before morning comes.

He runs a ghostly trail down the small of your back with his fingertips. You toy with a lock of his sweat-matted dark hair.

And then,

"Maybe one day," he murmurs.

Your eyes flicker open to watch him rest peacefully beside you.

"Maybe one day what?"

"We can do the real damn thing." He's dozing off. "All the shit everyone else does."

You continue to stare, your expression softening.

"...Ackerman's not the worst last name to have," you tell him.

A tired smile grows on his lips.

He pulls you closer, and you curl around him.

Eventually the two of you fall asleep to the sound of twin beating hearts.

author note: oh we are so back. How are we feeling, Levi Nation? (What is their ship name? Jevi? Levames? Jamevi?) I am so grateful for your extremely generous patience, your support, and everything in-between. The reblogs/comments are the fuel that keeps this engine going.

deleted scenes of s.u. // levi's pov #1 :: levi's pov in chapter one during his first conversation with james in the trost hospital.

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @nomi98 @urfavcelestialangel @milkersonmac @blossomedfloweroflove @carries-blenders-and-stuff @hurtcomfortwhore @ahxiaoshi @littlerequiem @raginginferno267 @sixpennydame @precious-ketchup @michaelaftussy34 @bananananab04 @littlerequiem @satorugojho3 @kawaiteacup

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regular-gnome · 27 days ago

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30. Violin

Spring Festival or Grat Monther festival is one of the most popular and loudest celebrations, spanning three days and ending with a feast on the spring equinox. During this time, there are numerous magical light shows, musical performances, and a special dance featuring elaborate costumes. One highlight is the large mannequin of a titan's skeleton draped with colourful fur and ribbons, with a area between the ribs where the band passes through during their performance. The festival is a celebration of life sprouting from the titans after their death.

Its celebrated in titan-controlled towns, and many titans compete over how extravagant and grand their town's festival can be, trying to prove the prosperity of their territories. This rivalry often puts significant pressure on smaller supply villages. Some say its a way to keep the ruling class on a pedestal, while others prefer not to overthink it and simply enjoy the feast

#inktober #inktober2024 #artists on tumblr #Collection Incomplete au #the owl house #owl house #toh #owlhouse fanart #the collector #toh collector #titan trappers #toh archivists #the archivists #toh collectors #toh titans #papa titan #regulart

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97keanu · 1 year ago

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Dave Lizewski x Vampire!Reader

Premise: Dave finally finds the courage to go to an underground goth bar he found while scouring internet forums on how to pick up a goth girlfriend. What he doesn't realize is he may have found more than what he bargained for.

Tags/CW: nerdy!Dave, loser!Dave, Goth!Reader, Vampire!Reader, blood, drinking blood, bathroom sex, p in v, semi public sex, oral, virgin!Dave, Dom/switch!Reader, Sub!Dave.

Dave has always had a thing for goth girls, he hates to admit how much he wishes he had a one for a girlfriend in particular. He knows he's too nerdy for anyone as dark and suave as he fantasizes for. They would never be attracted to him. It's not like he could bring one back to his room either. Not with the posters of Elvira, Morticia, Raven from Teen Titans, and Abby Sciuto (he only watched NCIS for her.) that hung across his bedroom walls. And if it wasn't for that, the rest of his nerdy figurines and extensive comic book collection was sure to run them off. Dave was way too much of a Certified Virgin, as his friends called him, to pull a goth girl on his own.

So, he decided to try a different method. He searched the internet, his one true social outlet, looking for the most authentic goth bar New York City had to offer. Then he went in search of the best goth clothes he could find without looking like a total poser. He sprang for a thrift store black dress shirt and black skinny jeans. He contemplated whether or not he should ditch the studded belt(he bought it just in case.), and then he delved into goth bands and culture so he would have something to talk about.

That's how he ended up here, at an abandoned church that had had a red and black macabre makeover. Still, even with the pulsing music and plenty of goth men and women to choose from, Dave found himself a wallflower next to a fake, hung up skeleton. He could hardly talk to the skeleton, so he sat there like a dork, phone in his hands, and a sprite in his glass since he was only 18 and he didn't have the balls for a fake I.D.

That was, until, you caught sight of him from across the dancefloor. You with your midnight hair, dramatic make up, and lovely black lips. You smelled Dave's delicious blood as soon as you walked in. Now all you needed to do was reel him in. You danced hypnotically through the crowd, and soon enough, Dave glanced up and caught sight of you. Of course he laughed nervously to himself when you caught his gaze, and you could tell by his thought of "Did she really just look at me?" that he would be an easy prey. You could also tell by his basic "goth" attire he wasn't a regular. You were intrigued by such a nerdy little human...

You work your way closer, and Dave shifts nervously, unable to get his mind working for what he's supposed to do. He takes in your gorgeous body, your corsetted waist making your hips look so tantalizing, your hands moving to the music, bell sleeves whipping slowly with them. What made Dave shiver was your red contacts and pearly fangs. Of course, you were one of those vampire obsessed goths. He had to admit, that was a fantasy that turned him on most. He knew it would never be real, but even the idea of roleplaying with someone about his vampire fantasy had his cock aching. Still, he had never seen someone with such a convincing costume.

Before he could question it more, you were already before him, taking his sprite and setting it on a nearby ledge.

"Hey cutie, let's dance!" You smile, and your fangs glint in the flashing lights. You know this boy will never guess that they're actually real, and somehow that makes it so much better.

"R-really?" Dave can barely utter back before you're nodding and pulling him into the crowd.

The speakers blare Depeche Mode and for a second Dave wonders if it's you that's his "Own Personal Jesus". You truly came from nowhere, like an angel in black, and saved this night from being the most pathetic, stupid thing he's done to try to get a date. You can feel the relief wash over him as you find a spot where you two can really dance.

The music guides you, and Dave tries to keep up, his hands never knowing where to go. You place them firmly on your hips and wait for him to glide them where he sees fit, and you have to laugh a little when he nervously waits, a smile that's wholly pleased and confused on his face. You move his hands once again, letting them glide over black velvet and lace slowly until he has a hand full of your ass. Now, he can't help but squeeze, his mind reeling from the fact that he's touching such a lovely creature of the night and her soft, plump ass.

After that, Dave gets the memo, taking you grinding into his cock in stride, his care about other people fading as the dance floor becomes just you and him. The dark lighting and crowd made it so easy for him to let loose, and soon enough he's taking his hands to places he never thought he would get with a girl.

He's blushing so hard, but his grin and the adrenaline are taking over. For once, he's actually starting to feel like he fits in somewhere. Maybe goths do have the right idea...

You, on the other hand, can hear all his horny thoughts about you. You love how much he desires you, and you think it's cute how badly he wishes he could bend you over and fuck you right here. You also hear how much he feels like he truly fits in, and for a moment, you feel bad that a part of you just wants his blood.

You continue dancing and hearing his thoughts, and you decide that if you're going to satisfy your own hunger tonight, you might as well satisfy a part of Dave's hunger as well. Besides, it's not like you just picked him because he smelled so tasty. You really did have a thing for nerdy boys, and based on how hard he is in those black skinny jeans, you think he'll satisfy you more than enough.

You turn to him, your red eyes gleaming and soft.

"I want you." You say plainly, and Dave doesn't even realize you used your vampiric powers so that he could hear you so clearly in his head.

All Dave can do is nod along, helpless to your temptation. You're surprised you didn't even have to use any mind tricks to get him to go with you. He's so horny and helpless to a woman like you, that he happily comes when you tell him to follow.

This church is your typical hunting grounds, so you know exactly where to take him. You leave the sweaty, writhing crowd and head to a more private, single stall bathroom. Dave looks at you with puppy love eyes, and you feel that pang of guilt once more. You lead him inside, locking the two of you in, the yellow fluorescents not doing much to hide who you truly are.

Dave is just so happy a girl would give him any attention that he's more than willing to be here with you. The music is muffled by the walls of the bathroom, so you lean in and whisper.

"I want you to fuck me, Dave..." He looks at you with a soft smile, but a confused brow.

"How did you know my name was Dave?" Ah, you forgot you had gotten that tidbit out of his head.

No matter, your hands run down the buttons of his shirt, and you smile softly.

"You told me, remember?" And suddenly, even though Dave truly does not remember, he doesn't care.

He doesn't care because a sexy girl is slowly unbuttoning his shirt and allowing him to keep his hands gripped to her ass. You could have told him his name was anything and he would have agreed, he wants you that badly.

You undo his shirt, surprised to find a well defined body under there. He may be nerdy, but it seems like he's done some working out at least. You trail a red tipped nail down his chest until you meet his pants, pulling teasingly on the waist band with a smile.

"W-wait..." Dave says and you look up, curious.

"I just um..." He starts, and moves his glasses nervously. "This is my uh, first time and I guess I just had certain ideas about what would h-happen..."

You nod, listening, and you're surprised by yourself. You really must kind of like this nerd. Usually you would already be halfway done with dinner, but for some reason, tonight you decide to take your time.

"And how would you like to start...?" You say, softly playing with one of his curls, looking at him with understanding.

"I um...I always imagined that I would..." You see the idea in his mind before he says it and smile. "I would take care of you first..."

You're starting to really like this guy. The fact that he's not even worried about where or how it happens, just that he gets you off first has your pussy throbbing.

"We can make that happen." You pull him seductively over to the counter by the sink, hopping on and pulling him down to his knees. He is more than happy to do so, and you pull your skirt up to reveal your lack of panties. Dave let's out a nervous breath.

"Oh w-wow..." He pushes his glasses back up once more. "You came prepared..."

"Mhm..." You sigh out, looking at him with an eyebrow raised, as if to say, "Yes and?".

He's wanted this for so long, studied so hard on forums online for how to properly eat a girl out, and now here's his big shot, with only thee hottest girl in this club. Shit...He better do a good job.

He wastes no more time, pulling you close and letting you put your legs over his shoulders. You happily welcome that mess of curls between your legs, and Dave has you perfectly propped on the corner of the counter. He is already being overtaken by how badly he wants to please you, his tongue getting to work on your pussy.

He starts by lapping up all of it greedily, and to your surprise, not for the first time this night, he's actually really good at it. Maybe you will keep him around for a bit longer...

He plays with you, sucking and teasing before finally getting fed up with his foggy glasses and tossing them on the counter. Now, to get to the real work.

He slowly begins to place two fingers inside of you, and you are more than ready. You're already wetter than you thought you would be, and you begin to wonder who's seducing who. It makes it all the better that you can hear and sense how horny Dave is for this, he is already so drunk off your pussy, tasting every bit of you and fucking you just right with his fingers. For a virgin, he's so good at this.

You take a handful of his curls and pull him in deeper. He moans into you, more than happy to let you take control and use him up. He sucks on your clit, driving you mad with attention there, and hitting that perfect spot inside you with his fingers. Fuck...you might just cum that quickly. How did this dork make you this horny so soon...?

You go with it, feeling yourself clench around his fingers, looking down and seeing those lovely, desperate blue eyes looking up at you. You love how badly he wants this, and you feel so close already.

"Please..." He whispers between breathes and licks. "Cum on my face..."

The fact that he's asking for it sends shivers down your spine, and you feel yourself unwinding. You pull him in deeply, finishing and shaking with Dave between your thighs. You can hardly stop your legs from closing on his head he makes you cum so hard.

And when you're done, you slowly let him up, his mouth wet from you, his eyes dazed and happy. You look down and see how hard his cock is struggling against those jeans and smile.

"Fuck me, I need your cock inside of me, now..." You command him softly, knowing you only need to ask.

Dave happily unbuttons his jeans, pulling his cock out and leaving the rest on. He gives himself a few pumps just to test, but he's already so fucking hard. His mind feels like melting when he thinks about how good his cock will feel inside of you. He doesn't go right for it, no.

He kisses you. And you're surprised by how badly he wants more than just a fuck. You can hear his thoughts, and can tell how much he needed this, this connection. He slips in tongue in your mouth while you pull him close enough to slip his cock in your cunt. He breathes out a shaky breath, taking it slow. He's already so overstimulated he thinks he may cum just from putting it in.

Dave let's his cock rest so deeply inside you, filling you to the brim. You find yourself moaning into his mouth, his tongue sliding over one of your fangs. He pulls back, looking at you for a moment. "Were those really that sharp?" He thinks, and you pull him back in, before he can think on it too deeply.

He goes with it, taking your kiss and letting you run them down his neck. As you begin to suck there playfully, he groans from how good it feels. He slowly begins to pump his cock inside of you, testing how much he can take so he doesn't blow his load too quickly. He breathes out shallow, heavy breaths from how much he wants to bury his cock in you and fill you up. His brow scrunches up as he wills himself to last longer, and you shutter from how full he's making you.

You almost forget what you're actually here to do. As he continues, and begins to get so close he can barely take it, you decide then to sink your fangs into his neck. Dave cries out, both from the pleasure and pain, and he can't help but buck into you hard, going deeper than you even thought possible, filling you up with his hot, sticky cum.

You drink deeply, and Dave feels as if he can't stop cumming. The bite is so delicious for you both, and he makes no moves to stop you. Instead, he finds himself holding you closer, wanting you deeper and to be deeper in you. It feels so good he doesn't notice when he starts to get light headed.

But you do. And you have to force yourself to pull your fangs from his neck, lapping at the wound until it heals.

"What...what did you do to me..." Dave says, sleepily.

"Here..." You bite your own wrist, blood dripping down slowly.

"What...?" Dave is confused, but not protesting. You give him a look, and he opens his mouth. He figures this must just be apart of goth culture he didn't read about.

He takes your blood in stride, sucking until you tell him to stop. And even after, he wants more.

"What...are you...?" He says, his face relaxed and his eyes heavy with afterglow.

"I think you know." And he does. He nods, and you help him get cleaned up.

"What do we do now?" He asks so sweetly when you're finished. And you already know that you've decided it.

You want him, and he is now yours. You explain it to him. You will let him go about his daily life, but when he feels the call of your blood inside of him, then he must come and let you feed like tonight. In return, of course, you let him know that you will let him fuck you as much as he desires. Dave is more than happy about that arrangement, a heavy after-sex grin on his face. You're happy to have a steady meal that you don't hate and a fat cock to sit on when you feel like it. What a cute blood doll you've acquired...

Taglist: @microwgreen @questionable-behavior @babyqnn @sebastianstanisahotmf @lazyneonrabbitt @nikistan @remuslupinsno1slut @haha-im-dumb @shakedogshake @beep-boop-baby @aesniri @pinkyyy666 @lpeanut-butterl @shrekscrustybudassy @lookatmelookatme @dreary-salem @almostjollypizza @boo8008 @arabellacrybaby @imaslutforcuddles @yasugardaddieshouse @real-sharena-h @stilloverthinking @tvgirlsbluehair @magicalgoopdeanhuman @jazmin25 @sknnylgndsstuff @lenasdmns @iluvkr @d3psta @sinjinpools @whotfistaylor @mut4nts @loser-lover0527 @vselva-blog @adrienette715 @jayjay577 @gildedgwen @izzyisstuff @casuallycruel-tswiftie13 @winter-bearv

#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x vampire!reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski fanfic #kick ass fanfic #my writing

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