among the amaryllis | 02
levi ackerman x reader
synopsis ⤸
every week, you secretly leave flowers by levi’s door in the hope to eventually woo him. unfortunately, your plan fails horribly, as levi suffers with hay-fever and thinks that someone is pranking him.
chapters ⤸
៚ contents
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themes ⤸
fem! reader, 18+, flower shop au, army veteran! levi, florist! reader, unrequited love, pining, mutual pining, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, angst, smut, wet dreams, handjobs, fingering, oral sex, mutual masturbation, levi suffers with ocd, reader is short
word count ⤸
5.2k (semi-edited)
a/n ⤸
as requested by a lovely anon that i received the other day, here we are with another chapter ~ i hope that you enjoy this one ♡
reblogs are appreciated ~
two:
two days pass before you see levi again.
you’re awaiting a delivery from your usual supplier, repeatedly eyeing the small alarm clock on the far side of the counter as you busy yourself with a large order of yellow roses. it’s another warm day, and today, you’ve used one of the trolleys to prop open the entrance door in the hopes to encourage the humidity outside. it does little to filter the air, however, and it isn’t long before you’re taking a break to try and switch on the large air-conditioning unit. however, the machine is notorious for breaking down on you, and it’s because of this that you rarely attempt to use it. but today, you’re desperate enough to precariously balance on the top of the stool that you’ve swiped from behind the counter. you’re too busy pressing just about every button on the blasted device, other hand thumping down on the lid, that you don’t register the sound of footsteps until it’s too late.
‘i don’t think you’re supposed to hit it like that.’
startling, you release an embarrassing shriek, followed by a curse word that is expelled from between your lips, and your entire body wobbles dangerously. a pair of warm, strong hands reach out to grip your bare thighs in order to stop you from falling, and when you turn your head, it is levi who happens to be your saving grace. you’re sure that your expression reads as embarrassed as you feel, and you stammer out a rushed apology.
his expression is passive as he slowly pulls his hands back once he deems you safe from falling, before offering his hand to help you from the stool, and you pray that your palms aren’t clammy, your hand easily slipping into his.
once both of your feet are safely upon the ground, he takes a hesitant step backwards, eyes sweeping over your entire form. you can already feel your left eye twitching with annoyance as he regards your outfit with a calculated stare, and although he doesn’t comment, you’re not blind to his disapproval.
‘you wear that to work?’
your eyes close, and any form of thanks that you’d previously planned to say are now quickly forgotten as you blow out a puff of air from between your lips. personally, you don’t see the issue with your clothes; a pair of mid-thigh, light washed denim shorts, and an oversized t-shirt that is tucked into the high waistband. your legs are bare, save for the dainty anklet that hange had gifted you after a trip to the seaside a few weeks ago, your feet stuffed into an old pair of sandals. it’s definitely a casual outfit, but it’s also weather appropriate, and you turn away from levi’s raised eyebrow.
‘it’s warm,’ you point out, bending down to pick up a stem that has fallen from the counter.
‘you’re inside,’ he counters, much to your chagrin, because even though he’s not exactly incorrect, you refuse to allow his matter-of-fact attitude to put a downer on your day.
instead, you click your tongue at him, not realising that his gaze is still fixated to expanse of skin that is displayed before him. you’re too busy staring up at the air-con unit with a frown pinching between your eyebrows.
‘any idea how to work one of these?’ your question snaps him out of whatever daydream he’s fallen into, and his eyes move up to your hopeful expression.
he hums a non-committal answer and uses his shoulder to nudge you out of his way.
‘you got a ladder?’
‘a ladder?’ you repeat, blinking at him dumbly.
he looks almost annoyed by your answer, tutting loudly, ‘yes, a ladder.’
you tilt your head toward the storeroom. ‘yeah, but it’s all the way at the back—’
‘fetch it,’ he orders, turning his back to you to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. he’s busy running his fingers through his hair when he realises that you haven’t moved, cool eyes darting over to you once more. ‘well?’
you ask, exasperated, ‘can’t you just use the stool?’
his eyes narrow, expression twisting into one to display his irritation at your defiance. ‘i’m helping you, aren’t i?’ when you nod, albeit a tad dumbfounded by this fact, he says, ‘so go and get the ladder—i’m not risking breaking my neck on a shitting stool—not even for you,’ he adds under his breath, watching you huff, but spinning on your heel to do as he tells you to.
you disappear into the back of the store, and as he listens to you rummaging around inside the storeroom, he crosses his arms over his chest and sweeps his gaze over the entire shop. he eyes what looks to be the sapling of some kind of fruit tree, his nose crinkling with disgust. even though he made sure to swallow down an antihistamine with his morning tea, he can still feel the irritating sensation of his eyes beginning to itch, and he has to press the tip of his index finger to his nose in an attempt to suppress the urge to sneeze. when you finally emerge from the storeroom, you pause upon seeing the reddening of the whites of his eyes, and your mouth opens with surprise.
‘did you forget to take a—?’
‘i never forget,’ he snaps, all but snatching the ladder from your hands. you watch with mild amusement as he quickly muffles a sneeze into the crook of his elbow before straightening his spine and pointing a glare at you, as if daring you to say a word. you hold your hands in mock surrender, lips pursed in order to hide your smile, and you watch him climb the ladder, setting himself to work.
whilst he does so, you decide to duck into the small staff room—only just big enough for a small kitchenette, a bookcase, and a couple of soft armchairs—and fill the kettle with fresh water. as you wait for the device to finish its cycle, you prepare a cup of earl grey tea. it’s not his favourite—no, that’s a sentiment reserved only for a special blend that is flavoured with cinnamon—but it’s the best you have in stock. you’re certain that he won’t settle for something as bland and tasteless as a cup of simple breakfast tea, so you go about pouring the freshly boiled water over the teabag, allowing it to brew for a short while before you remove it. you’ve remembered to forgo the milk, which is something you learnt the hard way after levi had literally thrown the tea—mug and saucer included—into the bin in a fit of complete and utter disgust. he’d then spent the best part of an hour explaining the importance of tea brewing, with a very detailed demonstration, which ended with an annoyed expression of how he didn’t understand why people felt the need to mix cow tit juice into their tea. after that comment, it had taken weeks before you’d bought a carton of milk again.
the memory brings a soft smile to your face, one that you can’t get rid of, even as you’re entering the shop floor to see that he’s now leaning against the counter, with his arms crossed over his chest, having completed his job. there’s a strange grating noise that emits from the device in a worrying manner, but it’s working nonetheless, and there’s now a constant fan of cool air that circulates around the small room, and you’re thankful as the air is no longer stifling or uncomfortable. your smile broadens, and you offer him a thanks, leaning to press the cup of tea into his outstretched hands. as you do so, your fingers unintentionally brush over his, and you pause for just a second too long before you pull them away, avoiding his stare as you circle back around the counter to continue your work. he watches you over the brim of his cup, swallowing down a deep mouthful.
you’re creating two piles of stems—one for those that are in an acceptable enough condition to sell, and one for those which are not—when you ask him, ‘not in work today?’
a thin black brow rises, and he snorts, ‘obviously not.’
your eyes roll at his reply, but you don’t look up long enough to see the smirk that is curling the corners of his mouth upwards. there’s a moment of hesitation, and then you dare to mention, ‘so... hange mentioned that you received flowers the other day.’
levi scoffs, evidently irritated as he taps his fingers against the ceramic of the cup. ‘that shit-faced, big mouthed moron—’ his chest heaves as he sighs, clicking his tongue as he does so, ‘it was just some idiot playing a prank.’
he doesn’t notice your hands stilling upon the second bundle of stems, taking another sip of his tea and humming his approval as his head tilts to peer down at the cup.
‘how do you know?’
‘hm?’ he’s humming again, downing the rest of his drink in one mouthful.
you’re smiling, but even you can feel that it doesn’t reach your eyes. ‘you said it was a prank. how’d you know it’s a prank?’
he’s scoffing again, ‘i mean, it was obvious; they didn’t even bother leaving a note. just scribbled my name on some shitty little napkin and ran off like some child.’
you hide your wince by bending down to retrieve yet another stem that has fallen to the ground.
‘besides, everyone knows i can’t stand flowers. couldn’t stop fucking sneezing for an hour after.’
you straighten your knees to stand upright, discarding the stem onto the countertop. you don’t bother to look where it’s landed, already reaching for another. your voice is quiet as you then dare to ask, ‘what’d you do with them, then? the flowers, i mean.’
he looks at you, as if deeming your question a strange one, ‘threw them out, obviously.’
you were already dreading his answer, and you suppose that it’s one that you should’ve expected, given his reaction. but it still hurts to hear, and you wince as if he’s physically slapped you in the face. he frowns, lips parting to ask what the matter is, when you suddenly hiss, a sharp pain blooming across the tip of your right thumb. a thorn has snagged itself into the skin, and although you should now be used to the sensation, it stings when you pull it free, crimson now trickling down the side of your hand. a curse falls from your lips easily, and you spin on your heel, heading for the staff room. you do a thorough job of washing your hands, putting in a little extra effort as levi is now watching your every move having followed you into the room. when you dry them on the town hanging on the cabinet door, the bleeding has already stopped. your thumb, however, along with the uncomfortable lump that has formed in the back of your throat, still aches.
levi eyes you carefully, your gaze now fixated to the ground when you finally turn to face him. he’s gentle as he pushes you out of the way so that he can wash out the cup he drank from before placing it on the draining board. and when he turns, he’s still frowning. your sudden change of demeanour has confused him, you realise, and you feel a little guilty as you know that his reaction isn’t entirely uncalled for.
he doesn’t know that it had taken weeks for hange to convince you to build up the courage to confess your feelings, and in a last-ditch attempt to preserve your dignity, you’d compromised with the promise to leave flowers until you eventually felt comfortable enough to reveal the true depth of your feelings towards the dark haired, foul mouthed army veteran.
so, you can’t really blame him for thinking that your gesture is nothing but a mere childish prank.
and so, even though his revelation makes the corners of your eyes sting with the promise of tears, you force a wobbly smile and dismiss him with the excuse that you’re going to close the store for an early lunch. and of course, he stomps all over your plans to sulk by yourself in the comfort of your own home by offering to take you out to lunch.
‘that’s okay,’ you mumble an excuse to try to reject him politely, climbing the ladder to flick the power button off the air-conditioning unit. the grating noise is silenced, and you don’t miss the way he loiters by the counter, watching you swipe the surface clean of any loose petals as you place the respective piles into two different boxes. they are then stored away into the back room, the door locked behind you. you take a moment to gather your belongings, and levi follows you to the exit, yanking the key from your fingertips. bewildered, you watch him lock the door, turning to you with an unhappy frown as he then stuffs the key into the front pocket of his trousers.
‘uh,’ you start, pointing to where his hand forms a bulge in the fabric. ‘i kind of need those.’
‘you can have them after lunch.’
you’re not even allowed the chance to protest, the fingers of his free hand reaching to curl around your bicep. he pulls you after him, practically frog-marching you down the street. you’re unsure as to why he’s insisting on the notion of having lunch together, but the bite of his fingers digging into your skin is enough to warn you to not even attempt to escape. instead, you reluctantly follow, stumbling to keep up with his unrelenting pace. he decides on a small cafe just a few streets away, only releasing your arm when you’re both queueing up to place an order. you tell him to order for you, as this isn’t a regular haunt of yours, and you can’t help but stare at the movement of his jaw as he orders an arrangement of sandwiches, with more tea, your brows tugging upward when you hear him ask for earl grey. he pretends to not feel your knowing smirk scorning the side of his face. when the cashier asks if you’d like to sit inside or outside, levi snaps, ‘outside,’ eyeing the crowded tables with a distasteful look on his face.
the food and drinks are paid for, after he’d literally slapped your hand away when you’d tried to pay for your half, and you start to weave past the growing queue behind you, aiming to make your way out of the humid building to find a seat outside. however, just as you’re reaching for the door handle, someone knocks into you from behind, and you hurtle forward, barely catching your balance on the door frame.
before the poor man can apologise however, levi is gripping him by the front of his shirt and seething at him as if the man isn’t a good six inches taller than him. for such a short man, levi is definitely intimidating, and it shows as he uses his strength to drag the man toward you. ‘fucking apologise,’ he spits, blue eyes ablaze with what you can only describe as unrestrained anger.
‘levi,’ you call his name in a poor attempt to calm the situation, ‘it’s fine—’
the stranger tries to push his way free, but levi’s grip only tightens, and from where you stand, you swear that you can hear the sound of fabric tearing. ‘oi, let me go! it was a fucking accident!’
‘levi,’ you try again. but he’s not looking at you, nor at the other customers who are nosying in on the altercation, his stare fixated to the man before him.
‘apologise,’ he repeats the word through gritted teeth.
the man is glaring back and shoves a hand at levi’s chest. ‘fuck you, man—it was an accident. hey! tell your boyfriend it was an accident!’
your cheeks are aflame, ‘he’s not my—’
levi’s knuckles are strained white as he suddenly shoves the man backwards so harshly that he flies to the floor, hands darting out to break his fall. you wince at the thudding of his knees impacting with the ground, narrowly missing a nearby table.
‘hey—!’ he starts to scramble to his feet, but he’s forced to still by the heel of levi’s boot pressing to his stomach.
hands stuffed into the front pocket of his trousers, forearms exposed for all to see, and the strands of hair that hide his eyes as his head tips downwards, levi is certainly a sight to behold. and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s currently starting a fight with a man he doesn’t even know, you’d probably take the time to admire him. instead, you spot one of the employees shoving their way through the small crowd that has formed, and you step forward to reach for levi.
‘levi,’ your fingers curl around his, attempting to tug him towards the door. but he doesn’t budge, not bothering to shake you from him as he digs his foot in harder.
‘apologise,’ he orders a third time, voice low, thick with vexation. the man splutters below him, his hand locking around levi’s ankle, as if trying to push himself free once more. but he doesn’t have to try much harder, as you suddenly yank on levi’s hand, hard enough that he has no choice but to stumble away. his head whips to you, lips parted he begins to reprimand you, ‘what the fuck are you—?’
the rest of his sentence dies on the tip of his tongue as you pull on his hand, yanking him out of the building. somewhere behind you, the same employee manages to break past the crowd, following you out of the door.
‘hey!’
you rush off down the street, the two of you now running hand in hand, your fingers still intertwined with his. you run until you deem it safe enough to slow to a brisk walk, still tugging levi along with you. you’re just a few streets away from his house when he asks, ‘you going to hold my hand all day?’
you practically rip your fingers away from his, as if his skin has scolded yours, and you hope that your embarrassed expression isn’t easily read. when you dare a glance in his direction, his jaw is clenched, eyes pointed forward, his hands now fisted in the front pockets of his trousers.
‘sorry,’ you murmur. you feel guilty that his lunch plans, no matter how simple they may have been, have now been ruined. his reaction is still bewildering to you, but his immediate need to defend you is enough to fill you with gratitude. you’re just relieved that you managed to pull him away before anything serious happened.
he seems to understand the meaning by your apology, but still deems it unnecessary, the palm of his hand reaching to pat the top of your head, and you pretend that the gesture doesn’t make your stomach swim with giddiness. he hums, mood seemingly improved by the time you come to a halt outside of his home. he pauses by the iron gate and you discreetly look for any signs of petals on the concrete. when you don’t see any, you’re a little relieved.
and then, much to your surprise, he tilts his head to glance at you from over his shoulder, ‘tea?’
๑
‘he invited you inside?!’
you wince at the volume of hange’s voice, cringing as you lean away.
you’re currently visiting the nearby park with both hange and erwin, sat on the spotted blanket that hange had packed away in the picnic they’d kindly prepared. again, it’s another sunny day, although slightly cooler, something which you’re glad for because you don’t think the burning on the bridge of your nose can take any more heat. the picnic has been set up under a large tree, and the three of you relax under the shade. you’re in the middle of recounting the details of yesterday’s happenings, hange definitely a lot more enthusiastic in their reactions than erwin, who simply nods, tilting his head every so often. there’s a knowing smile that has been fixated to his face since you started your story, and after almost an entire hour, the sight is starting to unnerve you a little. however, before you can dwell on it, hange’s hands are grasping your shoulders, and they’re sporting a smile that practically stretches from ear to ear.
‘like, actually inside?’
when you nod, you’re a tad concerned by the inhuman squeal they then release.
‘that’s a big step for levi,’ erwin translates, head tilted toward the sky. his eyes are closed, large frame taking up half of the blanket as he sprawls across it, his arms tucked under his head. ‘he doesn’t invite people inside.’
‘never!’ hange reiterates, bouncing in their seat.
‘never?’ you ask, dubious.
hange shakes their head so vigorously that you fear their glasses will fall from their face. these frames are new, as they’d proudly displayed upon their fashionably late arrival. ‘we’ve known levi since our army days and it took at least eight years before he told us where he lives. and an extra two before he let me even use his bathroom!’
‘probably shouldn’t brag about that, hange,’ erwin’s tone is laced with mirth.
you share his sentiment, sparing a soft smile before you pick at the bunch of white grapes that have been packed into the basket. ‘there’s nothing to be excited about, anyway,’ you pretend to not see the way hange’s expression falls, ‘he threw the flowers away.’
‘he what?’ it is erwin who looks up, surprised.
hange is frowning, ‘i didn’t think he’d actually throw them.’
‘you knew he was going to throw them away?’ you must’ve not been able to hide the hurt in your voice, as even erwin shifts his body until he’s sitting upright, his expression morphing into one of pity. somehow, the look on his face makes you feel even worse. hange shuffles on their knees until they’re sat directly in front of you, their hands reaching for yours. your bottom lip juts out into a pout, and your voice breaks a little, ‘maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.’
‘nonsense!’ hange bellows, hands squeezing tight around yours. ‘he invited you inside,’ they breathe your name, voice desperate, ‘he wouldn’t do that if you weren’t special to him.’
‘you’re special to him. erwin is special to him—him inviting me inside his house doesn’t mean he feels anything towards me. i mean, why would he?’ you laugh, but it’s one that is fuelled by disappointment, ‘we’ve barely known each other six months—it’s not his fault that i was stupid enough to get too attached, so, really, i think we should just stop this now, before—’
‘you will do no such thing,’ hange snaps at you, dark eyes glaring as they regard you with a look of disapproval. ‘if you can fall in love with someone in six, short months, then who says levi isn’t able to?’
‘i didn’t say i was in love with him—’
‘look,’ hange’s voice is stern, and you attempt to cower back, only their hands remain glued to your shoulders, keeping you locked in place. ‘i’ve known levi for over ten years. i know how difficult he can be, and i know that he is an incredibly stubborn man—and he has a lot of anger stored up in that tiny body of his—but he cares. he cares a lot, and he’ll never say it, because, again, he’s stubborn, and he’s also kinda, sorta, definitely emotionally constipated, but that’s a story for another day,’ hange rambles, freeing one hand to push their glasses further up the bridge of their nose. ‘i know him. and erwin knows him. we all know him. the kids aren’t blind either, you know—we all see how he acts around you.’
‘all he does is criticise me,’ you point out.
‘that’s his way of saying ‘i like you but i won’t tell you that i like you because having any form of sentiment towards other people is absolutely disgusting, so i’m going to nit-pick every single thing that you say or do to make it less obvious that i actually care about you very much’,’ erwin cuts in this time, picking at his fifth sandwich. ‘it’s a levi thing. you get used to it eventually.’
hange points at him, grinning as if proud of his evaluation, ‘bingo.’
you continue to pick at the bunch of grapes until you choose one to chew on, mumbling, ‘doesn’t change the fact that he threw them away.’
erwin looks at you pointedly. ‘he doesn’t know they came from you. if he had... well, actually, he’s allergic to pollen, plus, he’s... well, he’s him. so yeah, he might’ve still thrown them.’
your face immediately takes upon an accusatory glare that is aimed at hange, ‘see?! i told you it was a bad idea! let’s just give it up now and pretend—’
‘oh stop, don’t listen to him,’ hange waves a dismissive hand, ‘erwin doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’
‘actually—’
‘shut up, erwin,’ hange’s smile is almost terrifying, and even you feel a tad concerned about the tall, blonde man, whose mouth immediately snaps shut. turning back to you, hange squeezes your shoulder in what you think is supposed to be a reassuring manner. ‘we’ll continue as planned; maybe if you do this every week, he’ll finally build up an immunity to pollen. that, and he’ll have no choice but to accept that it’s not a prank.’
you have high doubts about that, but don’t bother to voice them aloud.
‘i’ll make him come shopping with me on saturday,’ hange thinks out loud, ‘or no, maybe not that, ‘cause he’ll try to get out of it, that little weasel. hm... is anyone’s birthday coming up? actually, no, he always gives everyone the same copy of edgar allen poe, even though no-one actually reads them... oh! that reminds me, when’s your birthday?’
you inform them of the exact date, the words mumbled with confusion warping your tone.
‘erwin, make sure you remember that, because you’ll probably have to remind me,’ hange is already jumping back to their plotting before erwin can even agree. he does so anyway, hiding a smile with the shake of his head. hange claps their hands in front of your face, the action making you start a little, ‘don’t worry, i’ll think of something. i’ll keep him out for as long as possible, you just have to make sure you drop the flowers off before he gets home. don’t use daises this time.’
you exhale, as you already know that there’s no use in arguing. in the short time you’ve known each other, you’ve already come to learnt that once hange has an idea, there’s very little in changing their mind. you easily accept your fate, with the nagging hope that maybe this won’t end horribly. and so, you concede to hange’s plan, but your nose crinkles as you remember something that levi had said, ‘he said something about there not being a note. should i—?’
‘no,’ both hange and erwin answer at the same time.
‘bad idea, it’ll give him clues,’ erwin shrugs when you turn your questioning stare to him first. ‘he’s a clever bastard; he’ll figure you out straight away.’
hange is nodding, agreeing. ‘plus, he’ll recognise your handwriting.’
you frown, expression pensive, ‘i don’t think he’s seen my handwriting.’
‘still, don’t risk it,’ hange shakes their head. ‘just leave the flowers. different ones, maybe some roses. something really cheesy—that’ll get him thinking.’
you’re not entirely sure if you agree with their way of thinking—because surely roses are far more suspicious than daises—but when the three of you eventually decide to call it a day, you leave them with the promise to ditch the daises this time.
for the remainder of the week, you’re surprised to see that levi’s lunchtime visit wasn’t just a one time thing. every day, at half eleven, on the dot, he visits with an array of different excuses. your favourite was a very blunt, ‘i was bored,’ followed by a loud sneeze that embarrassed him so much so, that he spent the remainder of his hour-long visit sulking in the staff-room. when he’d left, you’d saw that he’d actually spent his time cleaning the entire room, the overwhelming scent of citric cleaning products lingering for days afterwards.
it is mid-week when he asks you to lunch again.
you’re mildly surprised, but still, for the next two days, the two of you spend your lunch hours at the nearby park. it’s only a small space, with a pond, a small play area that looks to be abandoned, and a family sized bench that is comfortable enough. and of course, levi has a comment to say about the cleanliness of the table top, but when you snap at him to either sit the hell down or go home—further pointing out that it is far too warm for you to be dealing with yet another of his temper tantrums—he surprises you by obeying without another word. and when you peek at him after a few minutes of eating through a very tense, awkward silence, you swear that the tips of his ears are tinged pink.
it is when you’re walking back to your shop when he says it, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and his eyes purposely looking at anything but you.
‘you don’t look ugly today.’
and before you can think of anything to say to that, he’s spinning on his heel and taking off in the opposite direction without so much as a goodbye.
you can do nothing but stare after his retreating form, bewildered.
come saturday, you’re still nervous. you’ve already prepared the box of flowers that sit on the coffee table in your small apartment, and as promised, there is no note. it’s peonies this time, and after checking over each petal with painstaking precision, you’re satisfied that these, at least, look a little fancier than the daisies had. you just hope, the box now clasped between two clammy-palmed hands as you slowly make your way over to levi’s home, that hange is correct with their prediction that maybe this time, levi won’t throw them away.
today is yet another hot day, and although you’ve waited all afternoon for hange’s signal, you’d still waited another hour, just to be safe. still, waiting hasn’t saved you from the heat, as the sun is still high up in the sky, the air thick with humid. levi’s home isn’t far from yours—it’s just a mere ten minute walk away—yet by the time you’re crossing over the street to enter his front garden, your hair is already slick with sweat, the strands sticking to your temples in a way that it makes your shoulders roll, uncomfortable. you pause in the gateway, looking from left to right, and back again, just to triple check that he’s nowhere in sight, before you release a deep sigh of relief. but just as you’re bending down to place the peonies down onto the front step, there comes a voice that shyly expels your name from somewhere behind you, and you immediately feel your heart leap into the back of your throat.
‘i knew it!’
© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.
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I saw tumblr we didn’t start the fire tumblr but no full version so here it is
It’s not in order but tumblrs a mess so that’s ok
Some of these are pretty obscure tho lol
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It was always burning, since the world’s been turning
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It was always burning, since the world's been turning
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"Your bra strap’s showing", we’re multiplying
Posts+, gay frogs, my beloved
Anti shippers, multi shippers, reblog to kill a transphobe
Apple bans a bunch of tags, what else do I have to say?
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning, since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it
Kudos, dear AO3, Destiel back again
Blorko, Star Trek, Star Wars, MCU
OP, reblog chain, text post, gayest place on the internet
Trans and gay vampires, pondering my orb
"Year in review", Spotify, fanfic writers everywhere
Castiel, Sherlock, arson, cats, reblog again
Everyone thinks we’re all dead, everybody’s mad at staff
Destiel is top ship again, I can't take it anymore
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning, since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
But when we are gone
It will still burn on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning, since the world's been turning
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