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mishasminions · 4 years ago

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Here’s why the Supernatural Series Finale Sucked

(AND IT REALLY ISN’T JUST BECAUSE CAS/MISHA WASN’T IN IT)

First of all, I’d like to state, that this perspective is coming from someone who has watched, invested in, and dissected this show for 15 years. I’ve tried to rationalize and justify every single decision each of the main characters made throughout the years, and I’ve always tried to make sense of each of their story arcs from a “bigger picture” standpoint as each season progressed.

Anyway, before I can properly explain why the finale sucked, let me quickly take you through 15 seasons by segregating them into 3 eras, because you can’t really comprehend what Supernatural is about and what it’s become without going through how it tried to expand its universe.

SEASONS 1-5: THE KRIPKE ERA

Now, we all know that Kripke was always set in wrapping up Sam and Dean’s story in 5 seasons, and he did just that.

So, in this era, Supernatural is about two brothers who set out on a journey to fulfill “the family business”. They hunt mythical monsters that terrorize the world, while battling the monsters within themselves. Their ultimate “big bad” is an apocalypse.

Towards the end of this era, we find out that Sam and Dean are actually a parallel to Biblical characters who are brothers turned rivals. And that Sam and Dean’s destiny is to go up against each other.

However, as a dynamic, they have always been about making their own choices, choosing free will, and having a brotherly bond that can power through against any obstacle at any given day.

So, this era is neatly wrapped up with its finale. The characters grow, and get justified endings.

Dean, a man who thinks of himself as two things: 1. Sam’s older brother and protector; and 2. Daddy’s blunt little instrument.

He’s spent his whole life believing that that was his only purpose, and he knew that the only ending he’ll get would either be a bloody death fulfilling his duty to the family business; or laying his life on the line to save his brother.

Dean gets the ending he thought was never possible for him, something he thought he could never deserve. After years of living and dying for his family, he gets a shot at having an apple pie life--to settle down with a nice girl, raise a kid in a house with a white picket fence. With Sam gone, Dean’s responsibility now is to himself.

Sam, on the other hand, never wanted any part of it, because he wasn’t groomed the way Dean was, and because thanks to Dean, Sam wasn’t traumatized or forced into growing up too quickly the way Dean was.

So Sam aspires for a normal life, and works the cases with Dean so he can maybe get some semblance of it, when everything they set out to kill are laid to rest.

Ultimately, Sam performs a selfless act for his brother, who has given up everything for him, and for their cause--to save the world.

The journey is this: Dean sacrifices everything to save Sam, and Sam sacrifices himself so Dean could live.

Apart from being Dean’s “savior” and guardian angel, Castiel’s role in this era is to serve as a mirror to Dean’s journey. Castiel goes from being heaven’s foot soldier, following “God’s orders”; to an angel who learns to choose and feel for the first time in his existence.

After they realize that they’re both daddy’s blunt instruments, Dean starts choosing his own path for himself, and convinces Castiel to join him. Castiel stops following heaven, and starts following Dean.

In the end, with his newfound understanding of the world thanks to Dean, Castiel goes back to heaven to reform it.

We’ve resolved the biblical arc, and the character journeys.

SEASONS 6-10: THE SPIN-OFF ERA

So this is where the show realizes how vast its universe can be, so it tries to expand it by tapping into uncharted lands and experimenting with it.

They take on heaven, reform hell, explore purgatory, have the angels fall, turn Dean into a demon, and kill Death.

Dean and Sam recognize their codependency, and try to rise above it.

They go back and forth between which brother will risk it all for the greater good every other season.

Dean and Cas strengthen their relationship by recognizing the impact they have on each other’s lives.

Cas structures his life and decisions around Dean (Seasons 6-7), and Dean learns to trust and fight for Cas (Seasons 8-9).

Sam and Cas bond (mostly over Dean) because of their shared rationales in decision-making.

Dean, Sam, and even Cas also forge relationships with the people they work with. The concept of “found family” is introduced here.

This era was heavy on the plot while establishing, reinforcing, and solidifying relationships and dynamics.

At this point, it wasn’t just about the brothers anymore.

If Supernatural had ended in Season 10, the logical finale would’ve been Team Free Will, along with the family that they’ve found, going up against the latest big bad (Death or whoever). Maybe they lose them along the way, maybe they all make it out alive, or maybe they go down swinging, but at least the show recognizes and supports the message they keep saying, “Family don’t end with blood”

SEASONS 11-15: THE REWRITE ERA

This is where the show runs out of ideas and decides to invalidate the seasons that came before it.

From bringing Mary back (basically rendering their whole journey pointless because they’ve literally started hunting because of her death), to changing the stipulations in being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels (another character struggle rendered useless), to God himself breaking the fourth wall by saying that the Winchesters get away with everything because “they’re the main characters in his story and everything they’ve been through was just part of a badly written narrative”.

But what we’re getting from this era is that Sam and Dean, along with Cas (who has also deviated from the story) ARE trying to escape a badly written narrative.

That’s the “big bad” in this era. The writer.

At this point, the characters have picked up so many strays (including those from alternate universes), and have settled into their roles in their “found family”. Dean, Sam, and Cas all become surrogate dads and uncles.

They’ve also graduated from the whole “we’re on different sides” and “going behind each other’s backs” drama. And they just want the whole family together.

They’ve all resigned themselves to the cause, but they’re also tired. Dean allows himself to contemplate about wanting more out of life or at least getting a vacation. Sam, on the other hand, realizes his capabilities as an effective leader. Castiel learns to love another being that isn’t Dean (spoiler: it’s Jack).

However, they also realize that they’ve just been puppets on a string all this time.

So what they want now, is to write their own story, and make their own choices knowing that God/the writer isn’t the one fueling their narrative.

So here’s why the finale sucks:

Andrew Dabb, the current showrunner, said that there would be two finales.

15x19 - The finale to wrap up Season 15, and 15x20 - The finale to wrap up the series by “resolving the characters’ journey”

In 15x19 the boys find a way to de-power God/the writer. For the first time in their whole lives, they are free from the story. Their lives are completely theirs now. They can make their own decisions. There are no more “big bads” to fight

And here’s what happens in 15x20:

Immediately after being freed from their story arc, Dean and Sam go back to hunting the monster of the week.

Dean eats pie, gets nailed (literally), makes a 10-minute speech to Sam because he knows he’s dying, then he goes to heaven.

Dean is greeted by Bobby, his surrogate Dad who he hasn’t seen (fully alive) since Season 7. Bobby’s expository dialogue comprises of him explaining that he got out of heaven’s jail, that John and Mary are next door, and that Jack and Cas fixed the dynamics of heaven off-screen.

The first thing Dean decides to do is go for a long drive in his Impala (as if he hasn’t done enough of that already).

Meanwhile, Sam decides to stop hunting after Dean dies, he gets the apple pie life he hadn’t wanted since Season 8 (while Dean was in Purgatory), and names his kid “Dean” for effect. He grows old and dies.

Dean drove around in heaven for so long that Sam catches up to him.

They hug. The end.

Great, right?

After 15 years of struggling to battle their own respective destinies, going up against big bads and even bigger bads, then finally being able to take charge of their own stories, Dean and Sam regress to hunting the monster of the week, and get killed off by a nail and old age. Okay.

Sam gets to retire and have a family, sure, but they still focus on him and the kid he named after his dead brother. Still just “Sam and Dean” through and through. Nothing to do with found family. Just lineage. Just blood. And it ends there.

See, the problem here is that this ending would’ve been passable in The Kripke Era. But we’re 10 years down the road since, and while Sam and Dean are the original main characters, the show isn’t just about them and their codependent relationship anymore.

So you see, even if you take out the whole “Castiel deserves to be in the finale because he’s also a main character with an unfinished story arc” argument, the finale still does no justice to the series it tried to “wrap up”.

But anyway, now I’ll make the case for the problem with Castiel not being in the finale:

In 15x18, we get a 5-minute rushed confession from Castiel to Dean. The context of which are as follows:

1. Earlier in the episode, Dean had wounded Death with her scythe. We later find out that this wound is fatal.

2. Their friends start to “blip out” in a Thanos-like snap, and Dean thinks that Death is causing it, so Dean seeks her out, and Cas goes with him.

3. Dean and Cas anger Death, apparently for no reason because she didn’t even do the thing they thought she did. She chases them to try to kill them

4. Dean and Cas lock themselves in a room. Dean starts a pity party.

5. As Dean goes through hating himself out loud, Cas decides to inform Dean of the deal he made with The Empty. He then proceeds to explain the stipulation of the deal (that he would get taken once he experiences a moment of true happiness), then discusses his newfound happiness philosophy. Dean is getting whiplash.

6. Cas goes on to imply that the one thing that he wanted that he knew he couldn’t have is Dean Winchester reciprocating his romantic feelings for him. (Don’t even try to fight me on this because Cas already has Dean’s platonic love, and he knows that Dean thinks of him as a brother, so if he really meant this in a “familial” way, then why would he think that he couldn’t have the thing that would make him happy?) So Cas’ realization is that telling Dean about his feelings is enough to make him happy.

7. Cas tells Dean all the reasons why he loves him (thereby combating Dean’s self-deprecation tirade), and all the reasons why he’s worthy of his love. Meanwhile, Dean is still winded from the fact that Cas is about to sacrifice himself for him again.

8. Dean never gets to process anything, because Cas is shoving him out of the way, as he and Death (who busts through the door) get taken by The Empty.

After this episode, Dean never speaks of it. Misha Collins supposes that Dean doesn’t reciprocate. Jensen Ackles says that Dean didn’t really get to process it because it was too much, too fast, and that Dean, still dense as ever, thinks that Cas, a celestial being, doesn’t interpret human feelings the same way.

So what was the point of this confession?

Politics and sensitivities of a 2005 network television aside, what does this do for the story?

Cas proclaims his romantic feelings to Dean, but Dean never acknowledges it, doesn’t even give it a passing thought afterwards. So Cas’ big declaration goes unheard.

Cas cashes in on his Empty deal to kill Death (who was dying anyway), in order to save Dean who dies two episodes after.

Dean makes no effort to save Cas (despite being really broken up about his previous deaths, or even spending a whole year in Purgatory looking for him), even after they’ve beaten God, not even asking Jack (who has all the power in the universe) to bring him back (when Jack has already done it before, with less mojo).

Dean moves on to fight the monster of the week. Somewhere off-screen, Jack rescues Cas from The Empty, but Cas uncharacteristically doesn’t even bother to go to Dean? (Every single time he comes back, Dean’s always the first person he goes to)

And Cas, who apparently helped craft and reform the new heaven, isn’t the one who welcomes Dean and explains the new dynamics of it?

Sure, Jan.

Supernatural, you’ve created a finale that only your casual viewers and people who dipped out after Season 5 can appreciate.

Just goes to show how much you actually valued the people who actually invested in your story and characters, and consistently helped keep your show on the air.

[RT this on Twitter]

#SUPERNATURAL #DESTIEL #15X20 #I KNOW I SAID THAT MY LAST LONG POST WAS MY LAST ON EVER BUT I REALLY DIDN'T THINK THE FINALE WOULD BE WORSE THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE #INSIGHTFUL INSIGHTS #UNTAGGED #PERSONAL

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xxxrubytuesdayxxx · 3 years ago

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“What are you doing in my bed?”

Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Fluffy angst and a bit of smut towards the end

Word Count: 7,294

Concept: Kim Hongjoong doesn’t want to be a virgin anymore and he’s determined to get his way, even if it involves sneaking into your bedroom between tasks.

Credits to a few prompt-lists I found trawling the internet, but I lost the links, I’m sorry :( If you recognise any, please let me know and I will do proper credits x

Masterlist

“This was a terrible, terrible idea,” you think to yourself, as you survey the ‘damage’ in the dorm. Oh there’s nothing wrong with the state of the rooms - it’s the state of the boys themselves. Because of course what the company set up as a cooking and eating game for a V Live descended into a drinking game the minute the main staff left. Yet it’s actually surprisingly easy to chase the younger ones off to bed. Which just leaves the eldest two: long-legged, sweet but slightly tipsy Seonghwa and their petite, treacherously-pretty but definitely-plastered leader Hong-Joong. Sizing up the levels of intoxication and seniority, You decide to tackle the slightly younger leader first.

“Bed, Hong-Joong!” you attempt, mustering up what you hope is a convincing ‘eomma’ vibe. Apparently you’re not very convincing though because he just squeals and bats you away.

“Ani! I’m leader! No bed!” he objects. “Anyway, I’m want to annoy Seonghwa first,” he announces, in endearingly grammatically-incorrect English, complete with a mischievous smile, before darting out of your reach and perching himself on the arm of the couch to watch his hyung record a ‘cute’ wake-up message for ATINY.

“I will show you the cute version,” Seonghwa tells his leader dutifully, cue card in hand, before turning towards the one waiting camera.

“Ani, I don’t want to see!!” wails Hong-Joong dramatically, collapsing off the arm of the couch onto the seat itself in apparent agony, with his eyes squeezed shut. “Argh! Jebal!” he yells, clearly determined to be a massive brat about poor Seonghwa’s task. He then proceeds to make ridiculous high-pitched noises while Seonghwa reads his message out, until Seonghwa cuts him off with a soft reprimand, knowing only he can use banmal with his leader: “Ah, keep quiet.” Hong-Joong obediently stops making noises, but then smirks unrepentantly when the older boy laughs at himself and stops the reading before screaming in frustration, himself, at the difficulty of his recording, making the now-quiet Hong-Joong snicker.

“Argh! I can’t do this!” Seonghwa laments. Noting that Hong-Joong has calmed down, he decides to ask him for some feedback on the instructions:

“What’s the difference between sexy and sensuous?” This gets Hong-Joong’s attention.

“Sexy? Ah, you don’t know?” he replies, springing up off the couch with drunken bravado, ready to show his hyung how it’s done. He staggers over to a very confused Seonghwa, who looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or worry.

“Sexy is...just...you see it…” he babbles meaninglessly. “This is sexy, this is sexy. If it’s sensuous...when you see it…” then gives him a somewhat-mystifying rendition of ‘sexy’ and mumbles "that's what I mean" before drifting out of the room and towards the stairs to their bedrooms, singing to himself. Seonghwa just stares after him, at a loss, then returns to his recording in peace. You give the older boy an encouraging smile, figuring he’s probably still sober enough to get himself up to bed, and then venture up to check on Hong-Joong. Only he’s not in his bedroom.

Sighing to yourself, you check the other boys’ rooms but then have to conclude that he’s in the bathroom, and there’s not much you can do there, except knock and call out to him if he’s still not out in ten minutes. So you head to your room, intending to get changed and prepare for bed. Only when you swing the door open, Hong-Joong is sprawled on his back, still fully dressed, in your bed - under the covers. You clear your throat pointedly.

“Excuse me, Hong-Joong? What are you doing in my bed?” you ask him, exasperatedly.

“I will try to seduce you, noona,” he tells you, in his adorably-accented, slightly off-kilter English, lovely long eyelashes fluttering coyly, as he sits up.

“Wha-I mean what…?” you stammer, assuming he’s just got his words tangled again. “Seduce?” You’re desperately trying to think of a plausible alternative, but your mind is drawing a blank from panic. Admittedly nothing innocent fits this scenario.

“Eung - yuhokhaeyo,” he affirms, nodding cutely.

“Um...you’re drunk, sweetheart,” you tell him, sitting tentatively by his side and patting his shoulder soothingly. You want to have misinterpreted him nearly as much as you want to take him up on his offer, but, despite his avowed attempt to ‘tempt’ you, in Korean parlance, you resist. He pouts a little and flings himself back onto his back, eyes fluttering shut again.

“Chwihaji anassoyo~~” [I’m not drunk] he whines, before switching back to English, frustrated at being misunderstood, as he sees it. “I just want...have sex with someone," he tries.

“Probably not the best time to have sex, really,” you point out, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing, as you don’t want to embarrass him or indeed give yourself away. He sits up suddenly, opens his eyes and fixes you with an intense stare. You falter, blush and lower your own eyes, but he puts a finger under your chin and gently lifts your face to look in your eyes.

“Will you...reconsider...if I am...sober?” he asks you, carefully, still in English.

“I don’t...I mean it’s probably not a great idea, tiger,” you caution him. “Wait though...are you...what are you saying...exactly?” you correct yourself, suddenly noticing that his cheeks are flushed almost the same shade as his strawberry-bangs and his eyes are avidly studying your duvet. He hums nervously, smoothing the duvet with his hand, but doesn’t answer or even look up at you. The realization hits you as all the pieces come together. “Chyeonyo-ye-yo?” [Are you a virgin?] you ask him softly, not wanting to embarrass him either way. He nods shyly, keeping his head and eyes down and pulling at a loose thread on the duvet as his cheeks flush even hotter.

“Wow...I mean...wow,” you falter. “I’m sorry honey, I really didn’t know,” you reassure him, slipping your hand under his, on the cover, with your palm facing up. After a moment, his fingers curl tentatively around your hand and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. “Well...um...maybe we can wait until you’ve sobered up and then we can try and find you...I mean find a way to help you get...um...erm...laid,” you finish awkwardly, feeling like his innocence is being violated by the very thought of it. But then you remember he was the one who asked, so perhaps he’s not that innocent - at least of lustful thoughts.

“Laid?” he asks you now, reigniting your reluctance to contact one of the professionals the company usually engages for this kind of service.

“Er...laid is a slang term for...for um…” you stall.

“Sex?” Hong-Joong chirps brightly, looking pleased with himself and finally catching your eye, now that he feels he has something to be pleased with himself about - his English ability.

“Yeah, sex,” you admit reluctantly. “Look, Joong, are you sure about this?” you ask him.

“Ne,” he whispers, leaning towards you expectantly and closing his eyes again.

“Wow! No, no, no!” you deter him, hurriedly, gently moving him back against the headboard of your bed. “No, I meant are you sure you want me to find someone to have sex with you?” He pouts and opens his eyes - this time holding your gaze.

“I want,” he hesitates, checking your eyes, “to...to?” You nod, assuming he’s just checking his grammar. “I want to have sex with you, noona. Right now,” he tells you firmly, nodding for emphasis. You’re already shaking your head, but you stand up and pull him up with you to add some weight to your refusal of this proposal.

“No. You’re not losing your virginity when you’ve been drinking and might regret it tomorrow - or possibly not even remember it, from the looks of you,” you tease him gently. “C’mon - come back to your room and get some sleep.” He shakes his head vehemently, tossing his hair petulantly and stamps his foot.

“Kiseu-haejwo~~” [Kiss me] he whines, stubbornly refusing to move when you tug at his arm.

“It’s not happening, honey,” you sigh.

“But you call me honey,” he persists, tossing his hair away from his eyes to wink at you provocatively, and sticking his tongue out for good measure.

“Yeah. I did,” you admit, sighing again at his persistence. “But it’s just a general term of endearment, like...sweetheart.”

“Call me jagiya,” he flirts, deliberately fluttering his amazing eyelashes at you.

“Kim Hong-Joong!” you warn him in a furious whisper. He ignores you, quickly grabs your chin in both of his hands and presses his lips to yours before you can stop him. Startled, you just let him kiss you, until he teases your lips open and slips his tongue into your mouth.

“No-no-no-no-no! Bad, bad, boy!” you tell him firmly, pushing him away with both hands. He just giggles and tries again, but this time you’re ready for him and put your hand against his chest to keep him back. “Right. Bed! Right now...go!” you stammer, fumbling your words as you try to stop yourself from shaking...or wanting to feel his lips on yours again. He smirks, grabs you around the waist this time and slams you up against the wall to kiss you again. This time with no prelude, just straight up making out. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then push him away again.

He stops but only to lick his own lip experimentally. “Mm...you taste like fucking candy,” he teases you, with another wink, moving back in for the kill.

“What are you doing?!” you demand, stopping him again. “Behave! You’ll get me fired!”

“I won’t!” he pouts.

“You most certainly will,” you correct him. “If there was a camera in my room, I’d be packing my bags already.”

“Really?” he asks, looking genuinely worried this time. You nod fervently. “Staff have to sign contracts as well, you know,” you explain. “I’m sorry, honey. Look, let’s get you back to your room before the others start looking for you to finish that mission, okay? He gives you a resentful, sulky look, but obediently exits your room, where you hear his dainty footsteps padding across to his bedroom and his door open and close, just before Seonghwa comes up the stairs looking for him. Trying not to panic at how close that was, you peel your clothes off and start to prepare for bed.

*************************************************

So you really shouldn’t be surprised when he endeavours to make your job incredibly difficult the next day. Seems, contrary to the saying, hell hath no fury like a kpop idol scorned. Worse, you already have to explain the day’s schedule to eight boys in various stages of hangover hell. Fortunately, in most cases it’s more a matter of keeping them awake and attentive, but Hong-Joong’s idea of revenge is yelling things and making distracting noises throughout the entire meeting. By the time you’re on the last round of explanations and he starts to object, you throw caution to the wind and slap your hand straight over his pretty mouth.

“If you interrupt me one more time, Hong-Joong, so help me God...” you warn him, through clenched teeth. He watches you fake-innocently over your hand, while the others come around long enough to snicker conspiratorially at the sight of their leader being chastised. You remove your hand, but continue giving him a warning look, then finish explaining the schedule and shoo them all into hair and makeup, overriding their pleading cries of ‘feeling sick’ and ‘wanting to go back to bed’ with the reminder that they got themselves into this mess, and that tomorrow is a free day, so they only need to keep it together for the rest of today before they’ll win a break.

They’re filing dutifully out of the cars, having had the luxury of a camera-less ride to the studio, Hong-Joong looking very pleased with his freshly-dyed bright blue bangs, when San and Wooyoung decide to accost you.

“What is it, Wooyoung?” you ask, eyeing a grinning San off suspiciously.

“Hong-Joong-hyung is want to have sex with you, noona” the younger boy informs you smugly, in halting English. San nods sagely, confirming this apparently hot tip. You close your eyes and sigh exasperatedly, trying not to show them that either a) you know this or b) you’re equally problematically attracted to their leader.

“Okay even if he did...which I doubt,” you begin, keeping your voice calm with difficulty. “Why on earth would he tell you two that?” you ask.

“He tell all members,” San updates you gleefully, before reverting to Korean to elaborate: “We were sharing TMI facts for games.”

“Great. That’s great,” you tell them sarcastically. “And on what planet does he think that information would be an appropriate TMI to share?”

“Oh he doesn’t...he was just really intoxicated by then,” Wooyoung giggles.

“This just gets better and better,” you marvel.

“Are you going to yell at him again, noona?” Wooyoung asks you, trying to contain his obvious glee. San watches seemingly impassively, but you can see the anticipation in his eyes. You narrow your own.

“So how do I know you two aren’t just making this up for a prank? Or to get your leader in more trouble?” you ask, pretending to be suspicious.

“Ask the others,” San shrugs. “Or ask him.” This throws you and they can sense it, which understandably deepens their curiosity and makes you panic.

"Fine. Tell him to come see me once you're done with the radio slot," you tell them, attempting to call their bluff.

It doesn't quite go according to plan though. You’re just thinking you've maybe impressed the gravity of the situation on Ateez's leader when he interrupts you with characteristic sass, but careful to stick to jondaemal: “Noona, jebal geuman malhago kiseuhae julraeyo?” [Noona, would you please stop talking and kiss me?]. Thank God you were prescient enough to talk to him alone. You stare at him open-mouthed.

“You...what...did you hear anything I just said!?” you demand. He nods, cutely, swinging his shoulders with his hands clasped together in front of him to complete the innocent look, and shoots you a come-hither look, through his eyelashes.

“So um...if you heard me, did you understand me?” you check, wishing your Korean was more fluent for situations like this.

“Yes, I understand,” he murmurs in English, his voice husky.

“So why…” you try, with another sigh. “Why did you still ask for a kiss?” He shrugs, pouts, pushes the toe of his boot into the leg of the couch he’s standing beside then flops heavily into it with a deeply wounded sigh. You follow suit, seating yourself on the other couch. Hong-Joong keeps his head lowered and stays silent, occasionally adjusting his eyelashes with his pointer finger until you have to ask, against your better judgment, but you feel bad for rejecting him:

“Gwaenchanaeyo, Joong?”

He sniffs disconsolately, plays with his eyelashes again, and shakes his head with a little hiccoughing sob. Well now you feel really bad, but this is a no-win situation.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart,” you try, softening your voice. He nods, quickly, acknowledging your words, but swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. You hold back a sigh of exasperation, and move to sit by him on his couch, tentatively placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Joong - don’t be like that,” you plead. “These aren’t my rules. But even if there weren’t rules...you’re so young. Don’t you want your first time to be with someone else your age. Who maybe can share the...the experience with you?” You try not to picture how it will more likely go if you arrange something for him, but push the thought away, pretending to yourself that the company can somehow make it romantic for him.

“Ani,” he sulks, head still lowered and blueberry bubblegum bangs spilling over his face. “I want you to kiss me.” He finally lifts his head and fixes you with his big, dark eyes. “Jebal,” he begs, voice breaking a little. “Only once, then I stop asking,” he bargains, in English, picking up on the subtle change in your expression. You sigh, close your eyes, and put your head in your hands, steeling yourself. You can feel Hong-Joong’s eyes on you. You can almost feel his heart thumping in his chest as he waits nervously for an answer.

“Okay,” you agree reluctantly, knowing in your heart of hearts that, despite his words, it won’t stop here. “On one condition. You are not to tell anybody ever.” He nods obediently, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Okay then...Where am I kissing you?”

He is already facing you in anticipation, his hands neatly on his thighs and his eyes shut so you can see those glorious eyelashes resting on his cheeks. The tiniest tracks of his tears stain his pretty face, and his lips are parted, ready for his requested kiss. But he opens his eyes at the question, confused.

“Right here,” he tells you, cocking his head to the side. You laugh softly.

“No. Where on yourself do you want to be kissed?” you amend.

“Oh…” he is a little flustered by the question. “On…” he touches his lips. “On my mouth,” he requests. You smile at his innocence.

“Okay. Close your eyes again,” you tell him. He does so obediently and you lean across to kiss him softly, but sensuously, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, and tangle it with yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you twine yours around his neck, turning your head on the side to allow him to sate his appetite on you. You only stop him, gently, when his hands sneak around towards your chest.

“There you go,” you murmur, extricating yourself reluctantly from his embrace. “Happy?”

“Yes,” he breathes, but he looks distinctly the opposite. “Noona? I...I have to go,” he tells you. You’re a bit taken aback, but you nod to him and let him up and he darts out of the room without a backwards glance. ‘Oh boy - this is gonna be fun’ you think to yourself, before leaving the little studio lounge to go round the other boys up.

You leave Hong-Joong until last, to give him some privacy to sort out his presumably mixed emotions, but it gets to the point that you really need them all in the cars, so you have to resort to checking the private recording booths, though you can’t imagine why he would be in one of them without booking it, and of course the bathrooms - which you plan to leave until absolute last. You ask the others if they’ve seen him, but they all shrug at you innocently. Finally Yeosang remembers that he saw their leader go upstairs to the sleeping pods. Thanking him exasperatedly, you jog up the stairs and then enter the space quietly, knowing that idols use it to recuperate between scheduled events. Most of the pods seem to be empty though, and it’s only when your ears adjust that you hear Hong-Joong’s voice and feel your cheeks flush.

At least he’s not sleeping, you reason, so you won’t have to wake him, but the sharp little intakes of breath and the quiet moans you hear make you think waking him would be infinitely less trouble. Still...if he’s with someone, at least now you won’t have to find him a date. You slide the door across, preparing yourself to chastise him at least a little, for form’s sake, but he’s alone. And boy, does he look guilty when he catches your eye. After a brief deer-caught-in-headlights moment, he freaks out completely, squeals loudly and throws himself commando-style off the further side of the little camp-bed, re-emerging adorably with the top of his face peeping over the mattress at you.

“Hong-Joong?! Are you alright?" you laugh. He nods and gives you cute v-fingers over his eyes and a mischievous smile. "Erm, good...what were you...wait were you just getting yourself off?” you ask him, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop yourself and wishing he didn’t look quite so delectable - kneeling up on his shins, chest heaving, with his hair dishevelled, lips just parted and eyes at half-mast and his arms awkwardly crossed across his crotch.

“U-uh...no...I was just…” he stammers, deeply unconvincingly, despite the tinkling sound of the buckle of his jeans belt dangling against the side of his leg.

“Okay, so the second car is leaving and you need to get yourself down there quick smart before it leaves without you,” you tell him, choosing to leave the subject.

“Or…?” he asks you, a little panicked. You hesitate, not wanting to give him any ideas. But it’s going to be just as awkward if you make him come downstairs with you right now.

"Or we'll have to arrange another way to get you home," you concede. "Look, just...fix yourself up. I'll work something out and come back for you. "

***********************************************

So this is the series of racy events that leads to you finding yourself in the back of a taxicab on the way back to the dorm from Hongdae, slightly the worse for the soju, with an endearingly tipsy Hong-Joong’s pretty head in your lap, using all your self-control to ignore the tantalizing effect of the incredibly illicit kisses that he is bestowing on your stockinged thighs whilst he’s meant to be ‘resting’.

“Joong, stop it! I’m warning you,” you chastise him for probably the twelfth time since you’ve clambered into this cab together. “I cannot believe you talked the staff into having me chaperone you for a night out on the town.” You don’t add that neither you nor they would have gone along with this if they’d had any idea whatsoever of his intentions. But lucky for him, you obviously weren’t going to tell on him and you gather the other boys had his back as well. Now however, you’re not entirely sure the scope for gossip won’t kill them.

Thank God, the taxi makes it back to the dorm before he can test you any further, and you jump out of the backseat to pay the driver, before helping Hong-Joong out and guiding him inside and up to his bedroom, where he spins around in a sort of pirouette before flinging himself onto his bed with a cute giggle.

“I look pretty today, don’t I, noona?” he checks with you, preening a little.

“Very pretty,” you assure him, careful to keep the tone of your voice neutral.

“No, you’re teasing me, noona~~” he whines. “Say it properly that I look pretty.” He shakes his head, making his long, silver earrings dance and jump.

“You look pretty, Hong-Joong-oppa~,” you tell him, with an aegyo flourish, before rolling your eyes teasingly at him and he laughs, loudly, with his hand in front of his mouth, then hits you playfully, in that adorable fashion he has. You give up on any pretence that he’s not dangerously close to getting his way, what with your guard being down and the soju still buzzing through you.

“Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?” you ask him, wryly. His eyes go wide, unsure if he’s just understood you correctly.

“Mwo?” he chirrups.

“You heard me,” you purr, leaning forward to kiss him lingeringly. He responds immediately, arms coming around you to pull you against him and lips moving against yours eagerly, before you feel his tongue searching for yours. You kiss for a while, but when he lays down and pulls you over on top of him, you stop him.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh. “I think we need to stop now, before someone gets hurt.” You stand up reluctantly, and give him what you plan to be one last kiss, tugging at his bottom lip gently with your teeth, before you pull away. He clings to you, kissing your jawline and then your neck, but you extricate yourself and stand up, making his face fall and his pretty smile merge into a pout.

“Wae, noona~?” he sulks, cute.

“Did you honestly think your devious little plot would work?” you tease him. “Whatever happened to ‘I won’t ask anymore once I get one kiss,’ hmm? You’ve had way more than one kiss, Joong...it’s time to move on back to reality now,” you tell him, sadly, turning to go. He sighs his defeat, letting his shoulders sink and making you wish fervently that you could just hold him and make him feel all better. You honestly can’t think of a reason that one of the professionals the company can hire for him will make him feel any more of a man than you could right now. And just as you’re mulling it over, reluctant to take your final leave, he lets his gaze rake you from head to foot, winks provocatively, and then bites his lip with a little ‘c'mere’ tilt of his chin.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” you ask him, rhetorically. “‘Cause, you know what? If you did, then, fuck the rules. We’re having sex. Right now.” This time he manages not to give himself away completely, but his eyebrows go up and he swallows hard. He rearranges himself nervously on the bed as you check his door, making sure it’s locked. When you turn your attention back to Hong-Joong, you almost have second thoughts. He has arranged himself carefully, so that his shirt is open half-way to his waist, exposing most of his chest but artfully concealing his nipples, and he's leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him to give you the best possible view. His head is tilted, eyes lowered, and his slender neck looks impossibly delicate, wrapped in a black silk choker. He smiles bewitchingly and dares a look up through his lashes when you walk over to him and sit on the edge of his bed.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Hong-ssi?” you ask him softly.

“Yes!” he tells you firmly.

“Really?” you confirm. “Because you seem...maybe a little shy?” you try gently, putting your hand on his to try and help him relax.

“I have a little...little nervous,” he explains, bravely, in English, showing you with his fingers pinched together how ‘little’ the little bit of nervousness is.

“Oh - ginjanghaessoyo?” you check, in Korean. He nods quickly, blushing. You put your hand on his cheek and give him a light kiss. “Well, you don’t need to be. I promise I’ll look after you. And I’m sure you’ll do great for your first time. Still good?” Another nod. “Now, remember just tell me anytime if you want to stop, okay?” you instruct him. “I won’t be annoyed.”

“Okay,” he says with a bright smile.

“And you don’t need to be shy about making noise either, okay? If it feels good, you let me know and I will do the same. It makes it more fun,” you add, with a wink. He giggles, bites his lip and then nods again. “Now c’mere, you sexy little thing,” you tell him, hooking your arm around his waist to pull him closer, and kissing him lingeringly. He moans softly into your mouth and you reward him by deepening the kiss and letting your other hand stray inside his open shirt to play with one of his nipples. He gasps and then moans again, his lips still attached to yours and his tongue exploring your mouth with swiftly-growing passion. You keep kissing him, but press him back onto the bed properly, so that you can straddle his thighs.

“Where do you want me to kiss you next?” you ask him, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, and pulling it open, so that you can stroke his naked chest.

“Odiena,” [everywhere] he begs, writhing impatiently under your touch and tossing his head on the pillows in an agony of anticipation. You laugh softly.

“I can’t kiss you everywhere at once,” you object. “Give me a clue...” You let one hand stray back to his nipples, making him arc his back, then you let your other hand deliberately brush the front of his pants, making him buck his hips up to press himself against your fingers.

“Seems like you’re having trouble deciding,” you tease him, letting your lower hand run the length of his still-clothed erection but bending your head towards his chest. You don’t let him get away with it that easily though, swerving at the last second to whisper into his ear:

“Why don’t you show me what you were doing in that booth upstairs this afternoon?”

“I...I wasn’t…” he stammers, blushing and nervously playing with his eyelashes.

“You were though, weren’t you?” you say. “That’s why you ran off when I kissed you. Do you have any idea how much catching you like that turned me on?”

“Oh jinjja?” he asks, surprised, but clearly flattered.

“Mmhm,” you assure him. “C’mon...let me see your jaji...I mean it feels pretty sexy,” you tell him, curling your fingers around the outline of it through his jeans. “Besides, do you honestly think I’ve been able to concentrate on anything all day while you’ve been teasing me while looking like a whole snack with this new hair?” you ask him, undoing his belt and jeans as you speak. He giggles, then self-consciously pushes his bangs back from his face and gives you another of his very pretty smiles but then hisses through his teeth and moans softly as you release his erection from his boxer-briefs and start to stroke him.

“But it’s you who tease me now, noona,” he complains, kissing you until you’re frantic for him. “You make fun by saying me all this things,” he elaborates, his breath getting more and more shallow as you speed up your strokes and his hips follow along by instinct, a thin trickle of precum leaking from his tip and making him groan helplessly.

“I’m not teasing you, babe,” you reassure him. “Every time you’ve caught my eye today, every time you’ve shown off these lovely assets of yours,” you stop caressing his cock to run your fingers longingly over his lips, then along his clavicle and then down over his hip, making him arc into your touch again… “I’ve wanted you more and more. But I’ve known that despite every inch of me aching for you, I’m not allowed to have you. You got teased by the others for saying you look pretty today? Well I think that you look not just pretty but also hot and very sexy. But I’m not supposed to tell you that. I’m not even supposed to think that,” you murmur, running your tongue over his bottom lip and eliciting a needy whine from deep in his throat. “But I don’t care anymore, Hong-Joong-ah...I want you so badly.” You kiss him again and he responds eagerly, but chastely, making you melt at his angelic sweetness.

After a moment, you reach for his cock again and start to pump your hand up and down it, but he flinches, so you pull back straight away, noting that his cheeks are aflame with blushes.

“Would you like to stop?” you check with him, keeping your voice soft and gentle.

“Ani, ani,” he stammers, waving his hand to show he just needs to catch his breath. “I just worry that I...will make a mess everywhere...too soon,” he attempts to explain.

“Oh! You’re worried you’re going to cum soon?” you check. He nods, embarrassed. “That’s okay, jagi…” you tell him. “We can slow down for a little while if you like?” He nods again, quickly this time, smiling at you sweetly when you deliberately use the term he had asked you for earlier. You let him fix himself up and then curl into your arms against the pillows with his head on your chest. You lay together quietly for a little while, kissing occasionally, as you play idly with his blueberry-bangs.

You’re just starting to count your blessings, thinking he’s actually drifting off to sleep after all and you can escape, leaving both his pride and his virginity intact, as his limbs start to feel heavier and his breathing slows towards sleeping pace. But then, just as you begin to gently disentangle yourself, he hooks your leg with his to stop you escaping, rolls over to press his hips against yours and then kisses you rather too passionately. You give in straight away this time, kissing him back with a ferocity to rival his own, and wrapping your legs up around his waist.

He pulls away a little, clearly unsure how to proceed, and kneels up between your legs to watch you, biting his lip again, but this time with a truly unconscious innocence of how sexy he looks. He tilts his head on the side, and then cautiously runs his hands up your sides, apparently not daring to do more. You smile at him and nod discreetly, but he just blushes again and clears his throat nervously.

“It’s okay, Hong-ssi,” you reassure him. “I won’t bite, and I’m not going to stop you anymore tonight. Just follow your instincts. You look like you maybe want to undress me?” you suggest. “Go on then, go ahead.” You smile again, trying to put him at ease, then raise your hand to his cheek and sit up to kiss him messily. You feel him smile and then his hands come up to peel the straps of your top off your shoulders and down your arms.

“Mmm…” you murmur against his lips, shifting to allow him to undo the front of your top, then wriggling a little to help him remove the whole thing, so that you’re kissing him in only your bra and skirt. “Mmff...keep going, jagiya,” you encourage him, lifting his hand back up to your bra straps. You let him struggle with your bra while you get to work on removing his shirt properly and undoing his jeans again. You know you could help him, but you kind of sense it’s better to let him make any mistakes that he’s going to make now, while he’s in a safe environment where he won’t be judged if he’s not perfect at everything. He makes a cute little frustrated noise as he tries to figure out the clasp, but then another pleased noise when he manages to get your bra off, but you pretend not to notice and just let him have his moment, sliding the garment off, then pulling you into his arms again, against his naked chest.

You kiss the tip of his nose, then tease his jeans carefully off his hips and down his thighs, letting him kick and yank them the rest of the way off until he’s kneeling on his bed in front of you, blushing but eager, in only his boxer briefs. You lean across and start to tease kisses from his knee, working your way up his thigh towards his thinly-veiled erection.

“Oh, jebal~,” he begs you, trying to move his leg so that you will come higher.

“Jebal? Mwo, jebal?” you murmur, wanting him to say it. “What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss...kiss,” he breathes, still in a pleading voice.

“Kiss? I’m already kissing…” you tease him, tickling his skin with your tongue now, and allowing your lips to dance ever nearer to the bottom leg-line of his panties. He moans, much louder now, and you let your other hand dip into his waistband to just barely skim the silky head of his cock. His moans intensify and he slams his head inadvertently back against the headboard of his bed, startling you a little, but not as much as he startles himself. He winces then rubs the back of his head with his hand and gives you a slightly hurt look.

“Yah, noona~” he whines. “You know what I’m mean. I want you to please...put my...my [he gives up and opts for the Korean when he can’t think of the English] je jaji...into your mouth,” he explains in a pouting almost-aegyo tone. You kinda want to tease him a little longer, but frankly you can never resist him when he talks in pout, even when the stakes are this high. And, judging by his sparkling eyes, he knows it too.

Trying not to hurt him, you pull his boxer-briefs carefully away from his erection and lick his shaft from balls to tip like an icecream. He shudders and another long, low moan escapes his body as his hands clutch his bedsheets. You raise your head to take him in your mouth, gently moving one of his hands to place it on the back of your head and indicating he should let you know how fast he needs you to go. Arcing into you, he presses his hand against the back of your head, needing you to speed up, which you do, using your free hand to hold him steady and being careful to keep your teeth behind your lips. After an interval of his pretty moans and your jaw starting to feel it, his hips dance, and he swears under his breath, in Korean.

“Wait-stop-stop!” he yelps, trying to pull away, but it’s too late and his voice trembles into another prolonged groan as you taste his warm jizz flooding your tongue. “Oh, shibal, mianhamnida,” [fuck, sorry] he stammers, mortified. You ignore his sweet objections and lick him clean, then pull him down by your side and let him cuddle shyly into you with his face turned into the crook of your neck.

“Noona?” he asks, squeezing your waist with his arm.

“What is it, Joong?” you murmur sleepily, the soju finally settling in your veins.

“Please stay here with me?” he requests. You sigh, afraid to tell him.

“No, no - that’s too much, doll,” you try to cushion the blow with a finger under his chin and a soft kiss on his lips. “I have to go back to my room, now that the damage is done.”

“But you say...well...we are going to have sex,” he pouts.

“And we did, you little minx,” you tell him, but he is already shaking his head, cheeky.

“Ani. I still am...virgin,” he corrects you defiantly, pleased with himself for remembering the English word.

“You’re still? Wow...you’re really going to go for the literal definition, are you?,” you laugh quietly at his sass. “Well, you may find you need to recharge a little first,” you sigh, giving in. He veritably purrs at this update and you see a devilish grin slip across his lips, though he keeps his eyes tightly squeezed shut, making you marvel anew at his beautiful eyelashes, by this stage of the evening innocent of eyelash-curlers or mascara, yet still works of art in themselves.

You cuddle up together for another small interval, but this time you realize that you must have drifted off to sleep yourself, when you open your eyes to find the sun peeking over the horizon outside. You smile to yourself when you notice Hong-Joong slumbering sweetly, completely naked in your arms, but you’re not sure how to disentangle yourself without waking him again. You manage to edge yourself out of his embrace, get your top back on and locate your bra but when you turn to give him one last longing look, he is propped up on one arm, eyes blearily open and watching you resentfully. He opens his mouth to say something and you swiftly close the distance between the two of you, to put a finger to his lips.

“You trick me,” he whispers fiercely. You try not to laugh at his indignant tone.

“I didn't, sweetheart! I fell asleep, same as you,” you defend yourself.

“So we have sex now?” he asks you, yawning and covering his mouth politely. You shake your head at him with amused incredulity.

“We can’t now,” you tell him. “There’s no way people won’t find out. It’s morning.” He just shrugs and tries to pull your skirt off.

“I don’t care,” he informs you cheekily, switching to an attempt to remove your top when you intervene with his attempt to remove your skirt. “If we are...balli-balli...[quickly - if you go fast] then we not wake members,” he bargains.

“Okay, okay! My gosh, you’re persistent,” you marvel, drawing him into your arms and kissing him. He deepens the kiss, tugging at your lip with his teeth in the sweetest punishment as his hands work quickly to remove the rest of your clothes.

“Hey - where’s that shy boy from last night?” you tease him, but he just sticks his tongue out at you and taps your legs, making you spread them so that he can climb between them. He’s all masterful confidence until you feel his erection tickling the inside of your thighs and he pauses, on his hands and knees, looking at you nervously. You run your hands along his body and down onto his hips and pull him forward.

“Ah - there’s our shy boy! It’s okay, jagi,” you reassure him, wrapping your legs up around him and lifting your hips to meet him. He kisses you under the jawline, and lets his hands stray towards your chest, so you drop your hand down to guide his cock to rest against your already-wet folds, then give your hips a little thrust so that he slips in. He gasps and thrusts his own hips instinctively, then you grab them and pull him the rest of the way forward, simultaneously eliciting a jagged moan from his lips and sighing with relief yourself, as he slides right up inside you, making you call out his name. He moans your name back to you, then finally starts to rock his hips back and forward, his breath coming hotter and faster against your neck as his moans get louder and more urgent.

“Aigoh! Ai-ai-yuh...uh! Aiohhohh!” he vocalizes shamelessly as he gets more and more caught up in your lovemaking, until he appears to have forgotten his surroundings. You surrender to him completely, kissing and caressing every part of him that you can reach.

“Oh-uh...pokbalhaga naol got gatayo~” [I feel like I’m going to explode] he confesses as his hips start to reach jackhammer speed.

“Oh, jinjja?” you gasp. He moans in the affirmative into your neck. “Do it, jagi. Cum inside me!” you gasp. His hands force you to speed up to his pace and his lovely voice climbs high enough to definitely have caught the attention of the other members.

“Oh shib!” he groans, his lips parted and his eyes at half-mast in a perfect mask of sexual gratification. “Oh...oh ne...oh fuck...Do you think…” he pants out “they can...hear us?”

“Yes we can!” hollers WooYoung from behind the wall, his voice indicating that he’s been wanting to object since the beginning of this latest tryst. “Please stop already! We’re happy for you hyung but honestly, we’re trying to sleep too, you know?!” he elaborates. Shaking your head at WooYoung’s lack of tact, you grab Hong-Joong’s sexy, taut ass in your hands, kiss him fiercely on the lips and lift your hips to a higher angle, letting him penetrate you even further. His hips do a final dance and you feel him cum up inside you, before collapsing next to you on his back, chest heaving and one arm flung across his face, while the other pulls you close.

“Better?” you ask him, cuddling against his side.

“Mmm....ne...much better,” he affirms, sighing contentedly.

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #hongjoong smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 4 years ago

Text

A Failed Betrothal (Part 3)

There were a lack of stuff to read so I posted this instead.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

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PART 3

The next day was weird to say the least for everyone but for Marinette, it was another can of worms that she wished she didn’t open. For one thing, Chat Noir’s feelings obsession for Ladybug switched from one black-haired girl to another which unfortunately was Ladybug’s civilian form. Which meant Marinette had to deal with Adrien’s Chat-Noir-level flirting and bad pick-up lines.

Perfect, just perfect.

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Everyone thought that a declaration speech of ‘being soulmates and the only one for him’ in front of the whole class from the ‘love of your life’ would warrant a ‘blushing to death and stammering’ or ‘outright fainting’. Not a facepalm, a groan, “Why me?” and a “I am sorry but NO. I don’t feel the same way about you”. Marinette vaguely wondered if there was some kind of rule for interesting events and confrontations to happen during lunch break while the class waits for Mme Bustier to start the lessons.

Marinette went to sit in her seat next to Chloe in the back row where she and her friends had been exiled to. The class was in stunned silence and questioning about whether or not they had fallen into an alternate universe or dreaming. Nathaniel and Alix tried to hide their snickers. Chloe just started outright laughing, turning very red in the face.

Marinette felt a nudge from Plagg in her bag. Looking down, she saw them holding up her phone to show Lila’s gaping face of horror with a wicked smug grin on their face. She looked through the photos to see everyone’s faces of confusion and shock at her rejection. Eyes wide and jaws dropped on the ground. Different shots of her classmates in the same state. She smirked and showed them to Chloe who calmed down enough, letting out the occasional giggles and took the phone with glee.

“Thank you, Plagg. Here you go.” she whispered, giving them a camembert macaron.(Tom had started experimenting with camembert in his recipes. Plagg is his first taste tester for all of them, making Tom one of Plagg’s favourite people.)

Adrien didn’t take the rejection very well.

“But we are meant to be. You are a designer and I am a model. Our partnership is the one to be envied by many for the ages.”

“And by that logic,” The designer turned to her main model for her MDC website, “Chloe, my love, will you be my one and only? For our love shines so bright ,paralleled only by a thousand suns.” Using the same voice Plagg does when they go on one of their love odes about camembert before losing her straight face and giggling.(Plagg doesn’t know whether to be offended or amused.)

Setting Chloe’s laughter off again. “Mariiiii,...stop….I can’t..*gasps*....I can’t…”

Nathaniel and Alix, finally lost control and joined Chloe in death by laughter. Adrien was flustered, turning red in the face either from anger, embarrassment or both.

“But Chloe isn’t a model.”

Marinette decided to put a stop to this, just on the off chance that Gabriel finally decides to akumatized his own son. She recomposed herself.

“She is the main model for my website and we have a partnership. You, however, work for your father. So does Miss Rossi. Does that sound like the partnership to be envied by many for the ages? Hmmm, Agreste? Anyways, like I said before, I have no interest in dating you.”

“Why not? We are friends and sometimes, friends like each other enough to date each other.” Adrien angrily asked.

“Because-”

“Because, Adrikins,” Chloe cuts in, “friends having to date because one of them is interested in something more makes no sense and is fucked-up. Marinette doesn’t owe you anything. Besides, she already has a long distance boyfriend who lives in America.”

“WHAT!?” Adrien shouted.

“What?!” The class had snapped out of their stupor. Since when had Marinette gotten over Adrien and had a boyfriend?

“What?” Marinette looked at Chloe with wide-eyes. Last she checked she was still single so what the hell was Chloe playing at. For Kwami’s sake, she hadn’t been on a date since the one with Luka which went awkwardly before they agreed that they think of each other as siblings and it will be best to stay that way.

Chloe gave her a look that said ‘I will explain later.’

“Oh yes, they met online a few months ago and now they are all lovey-dovey together. It’s just so ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous how disgustingly in love they are. They have video call dates at least once a week and somehow make it work despite the time differences. He once came all the way to Paris just to see her. He brought her some special flowers that apparently meant-”

Marinette slapped her hand over Chloe’s mouth. “Well, Chloe, Queenie, as much as I love you as my friend, you can stop gushing about my love life now. Because class is about to start.”

She said through gritted teeth as Mme Bustier finished taking her sweet time and walked in. Sadly, Alya wasn’t done with the conversation ,“Wait a minute, since when did Chloe and you become close enough that she is modeling for you? And a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me, Girl? I thought we were friends. What about Adrien, he just confessed to you and you had been crushing on him for so long” Many girls gasped, angry that Alya broke the unspoken girl code.

“You have a crush on me?” Adrien looked hopeful. Like a lost kitten that had been stuck in the rain, was let into someone’s home.

“I had a crush on you,” Marinette corrected him, emphasising on the past tense, “and Alya had no business of sharing that information to the entire world despite us not being friends anymore.” She glared at the journalist who at least looked ashamed.

“You wanted to date Kagami so I moved on.”

One of the reasons anyway. I found out that you were my partner who had no concept of boundaries. You are a coward who only wants to maintain the class peace at the price of my mental health, she thought.

“Instead of continuing to pursue you.” She hoped the ever dense and oblivious model would get the hint she gave him. Tikki ,just this once, Grant me that ladybug luck.

“And Mme Bustier, it is time to start the lessons, don’t you think? Instead of focusing on the class drama to gossip about later on.” Marinette glared at the teacher, reminding her to do her job.

“Oh. Right.” Mme Bustier tried to regain her ‘perfect teacher’ image after getting embarrassed at being caught, “Right. Class, turn to page-”

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As soon as the bell rang for the end of school, Marinette dragged Chloe all the way to her room. Alix and Nathaniel followed them because as far as they know, Marinette had no boyfriends and they were as curious to find out what scheme Chloe had cooked up this time. They were as complicated and crazy as Ladybug’s. No offense, Marinette.

“Okay, Queenie, you have to explain why I now have a devoted American boyfriend who I am so in love with.” Marinette crossed her arms with a frown aimed at Chloe. The kwamis got out of their respective hiding places and went to the tray of food set out for them.

The trapdoor to her room opened, revealing the rest of their friend group before Chloe said anything.

“Did we miss anything?” Kagami asked as Longg and Sass joined the other kwamis.

“Juleka said something about an American boyfriend and how he sounds so romantic. Does that have to do anything with the text Alix sent us to come here?” Luka added.

“To recap, Adrien made a love confession to Marinette,” Alix started, biting into some of the delicious pastries the Dupain-Chengs gave them, ”in front of the entire class after an entire day of flirting and bad pick-up lines.”

“Wow, even after having his memories erased of being Chat Noir, he is still after Ladybug.” Luka chuckled, with the others joining in.

Marinette whined, “It was easier when he was Chat Noir. But now as Adrien Agreste, teen heartthrob, it is going to be much more difficult to get into his thick head that I don’t see him that way and it is going to get harder, now that Alya outed my old crush to him.”

“Oof. Sucks to be you.”

“So, our Mari-bug rejected him. He threw a tantrum and sulked, so like Chat Noir, how did we not notice?,” Alix continued, “After demanding reasons why they can’t date, Chloe gave Marinette an American boyfriend who she was in a long-distance relationship with. Speaking of, why did you do that?”

“I have known Adrik- Adrien since we were in diapers and I know how that mangy cat works. He grew up on Disney and had all those fairytales stuffed into his head. If you had told him that you were just not interested in dating at the moment, it won’t work because he will try his hardest to ‘woo’ you, because he still has a chance. He won’t push his luck as much if you were off the market.” Chloe explained.

“I am sure that, judging by the fact that Chat Noir still tries to date Ladybug despite her saying she is in love with someone, Adrien might try to get more proof of this boyfriend to make sure Marinette is just not pretending to have one.” Kagami pointed out.

“Ahh, but luckily I have a back-up plan. I have a friend, Tim Drake. We met at a few galas when we were younger and kept in touch. He also owes me a favor.”

“I hope this Tim Drake is cute.”

“He is and he’s older than you by two years and,” Chloe typed something on her phone, “A fellow caffeine addict so you can bond over that. Here’s a picture of him and his brother.”

On her phone were two extremely attractive and fit young men dressed in expensive suits at what looked like a gala, the older one had a charming polite smile with bright blue eyes, looking somewhat interested at what someone off-screen was saying despite looking like he will fall over any moment. His brother, however, looked like he would rather be anywhere but where he was. He was tanned and had green eyes that promised murder for daring to even breathe in his direction. Marinette noticed that he looked a little familiar but she can’t place why.

“Tim is the one that looks like he hasn’t slept in days and that’s his brother Damian next to him.”

“Wait a minute. That’s Tim Drake and Damian Wayne. The sons of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire co-CEO of Wayne Industries, which Tim Drake is also co-CEO of.” Nathaniel said with wide eyes and looked at Chloe, “You are using your favor to give our Mari here a fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, only the best for our Mari-bug.”

“Chloe, no, he is probably busy as he is with running the company. No need to get him involved in petty teenage drama.” No matter how much she doesn’t want to date Adrien, bothering a busy guy to be her fake boyfriend is not worth it in Marinette’s opinion. Which, of course, gets overruled by the overprotectiveness of her friends.

“I, for one, think this is one of Chloe’s better plans.” Kagami commented, the others agreeing with her. Traitors.

“Hey!” Chloe exclaimed, an offended look on her face, “Anyways, I will call him later.”

“Children, you better go home now before your parents worry.” Sabine’s voice came from below, “Remember we are also going through some drills tonight so try not to be late.” Having a former assassin for a mother is handy when you want to train a team of teenage superheroes.

“Bye, guys. See you later.”

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

“Just because you have been trained since birth does not excuse you from the drills. You also need to get used to the black cat.” Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ reprimanded her with her arms crossed. When Ladybug started her new team, she was the first permanent member but as the team got bigger, she stepped back to be back-up and mentor for the team.

“Yes, Maman, I know but I am nearly finished with this commission. I will catch up with you later. Promise.” Marinette stretched, looking up from her latest project. Plagg was napping in the little basket she had made for all the kwamis to sleep in which fit all of them and had some extra space for Nooroo and Dusuu after they had been retrieved.

The reason she had Plagg instead of Tikki who was with Alix was because of the new tactic the Miraculous Team came up with. To keep the balance the Ladybug and Black Cat must be active at the same time but with Adrien gone, someone must wield the ring until a new permanent holder is found and it was not a good idea for both of them to be on the same person at the same time. The team decided to rotate using the earrings and ring between them with Marinette using other miraculouses when the others have them. It also had the added bonus of making it harder for Hawkmoth to find out who has them at any given time.

“See you later, 灵儿 (líng er, means intelligence). I will give you 15 minutes but that’s it. Don’t be late.” Sabine sighed and got out the skylight and went towards the safehouse where the Miraculous team met to get training. (It is one of Sabine’s emergency safehouse to use in times of emergency and it had the required space to train 6 teenagers. Chat Noir never came to training, lazy cat.)

Marinette never made it to the warehouse.

Because a few minutes after her mother left, the skylight opened to let in five figures dressed in dark colours to easily blend into the shadows like they were trained to be. Too bad they weren’t as quiet. Marinette immediately summoned a bo-staff to defend herself.

One of them lunged at her and she retaliated by hitting the end of her staff to their middle, coupled with a couple more blows and landed one that knocked them out. The others threw throwing stars which she dodged by jumping back. Which landed her to be trapped by the two assassins, whom she didn’t notice, had moved. She cursed in every language she knew as she struggled against them. It led to no avail as she was badly out-numbered. There was a prick on her head and her world went black.

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

Plagg awoke to a loud commotion. Irritated, they poked their head out to see their new temporary kit knocked out, tied up and hauled away. Recognizing the kidnappers as assassins of the League of Shadows, they scowled. Ra’s Al Ghul was going to pay.

Plagg may not act like it much but the black kwami was patient and smart. Smart enough to leave a note with an explanation somewhere visible with the messy aftermath of a fight before trailing the assassins. Oh, Roarr’s tiger was going to be pissed once she found out what happened. Wherever they were taking Marinette, it would be best to have a kwami of destruction to help her escape. The night made Plagg almost invisible and allowed to move unseen. They caught up easily and hid in their holder’s midnight hair. Now, their patience came into play. It was a matter of waiting for the right moment to pounce.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop

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(Part 4)

#damian x marinette #ml x dc #maribat #marinette x damian #daminette #betrothal au: take 2 #A failed betrothal #Adrien salt #some Alya salt #yes. i put fake dating in betrothal au #plagg is protective of his kittens #kidnapping

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alrightberries · 4 years ago

Text

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

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impalementation · 3 years ago

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spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: interlude [1/2]

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

part 4: “But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

part 5: “Everything used to be so clear”: Season six and the agony of the real

“This is real, here”: On the word “real”

Consider two of the show’s most recurring motifs: the word “real”, and the dual imagery of fire and water. I see these motifs mentioned most often in the context of the Spike and Buffy arc, and they are indeed crucial to it, and I’ll eventually get to the how’s and why’s of that. But that said, they are not motifs exclusive to that arc. In fact, in order to explain what fire, water and “real” mean in the context of Buffy and Spike’s characters and relationship--and by extension, how they connect to romanticism--it’s also necessary to explore the show’s whole symbolic infrastructure around them. So that’s what we’re going to do.

I call this section an interlude because it’s more of a clipshow than a standard argument. I’m hoping that these examples will provide context for the analysis in the final section, but while I think this section is worth reading, it’s also possible to skip to the next one (when it ends up getting posted). Some of these examples have already been discussed, some haven’t. Some I’ve almost definitely forgotten. But I’ve done my best to be as comprehensive as possible.

First, “real.”

In the first four seasons, I don’t know that the exact word “real” is used in a directed enough way that it could quite yet be called a motif. But several patterns in how the concept of realness is used do emerge, and will inform the last three seasons, when “real” becomes an unambiguous motif.

First there’s the idea of a person’s “real” self. In “Angel” Darla talks about Angel suppressing his “real” nature, or in “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Cordelia talks about people not “really” knowing her, in a parallel of the way that people don’t “really” know Buffy. In “Dead Man’s Party” Buffy confronts her mother for throwing her out, saying: “You found out who I really was, and you couldn't deal.” Multiple times in season three, Faith claims that the “reality” of people is selfishness and deception. In “Beauty and the Beasts” she says: “It's not cynical. I mean, it's realistic. Every guy from...Manimal down to Mr. I-Love-The-English-Patient has a beast in him. And I don't care how sensitive they act.” And in “Consequences” she says: “It doesn't matter what kind of vibe you get off a person. 'Cause nine times out of ten, the face they're showing you is not the real one.” It cannot be emphasized enough that one of the big Buffy-specific pieces of vampire lore is that vampires have grotesque hidden faces. It’s clearly an important metaphor to the show, one that’s echoed in its many two-faced characters, whether that’s Malcolm, Ms. French and Angel in season one, or Giles, Oz, Ford, Jenny, Ted, and Angelus in season two. Or the demons who get their faces pulled off in “Anne” and “Living Conditions.” Or the abusive boyfriend in “Beauty and the Beasts.” Or Faith, who goes bad. Or the Mayor, who acts normal in public but has an agenda underneath. Each time, there’s a question of which face is someone’s “real” one, or how an alternate face fits in with who the character “really” is.

In addition, the first four seasons feature many plots in which a character has their perceptions altered or becomes some false version of themself. First there’s the (again) Buffy-specific vampire lore that when someone becomes a vampire, something about their self is lost, nebulously called the “soul.” In “Witch” a mom steals her daughter’s identity, in “The Pack” Xander becomes a hyena, in “Nightmares” Buffy becomes a vampire, and in “Halloween” the characters become their costumes. In “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” all the women think they’re in love with Xander. In “I Only Have Eyes For You” ghosts hijack people’s bodies. In season three, we get alter-egos like Buffy as Anne in “Anne”, Faith as a doppelgänger figure, the parents as kids in “Band Candy” or vampire Willow and the other Wishverse characters. Season four in particular is brimming with identity confusion, alteration, and theft. Buffy feels like she isn’t herself in “The Freshmen”, gets her soul sucked in “Living Conditions”, and becomes a cave person in “Beer Bad.” In “Wild at Heart” Oz’s werewolf side overcomes his human side. In “The Initiative” we find out that Riley has a secret identity just like Buffy, and that Spike has had a chunk of his identity stolen by being chipped. In “Something Blue” a spell makes Buffy and Spike think they’re in love. In “Hush” the villains steal everyone’s voices. In “Doomed” Spike is forced to abandon his bad-guy costume and wear Xander’s clothes instead. He also attempts to hide his identity from Riley just like Buffy did. In “A New Man” Giles gets turned into a monster, and tries to tell himself that his monstrous instincts aren’t who he really is. In the Faith two-parter, Faith literally steals Buffy’s body and life.* In “Superstar” it’s Jonathan’s turn to steal Buffy’s identity, in addition to magicking everyone’s minds into seeing him differently. In “Where the Wild Things Are” characters are once again possessed. In “New Moon Rising” Willow acknowledges her feelings for Tara, no longer suppressing that part of her identity. Finally, the Initiative arc as a whole features villains that want to scientifically alter people and demons without their consent, reprogramming personalities and grafting pieces of identity together. Also in general, the characters find themselves at a loss throughout the season identity-wise, unsure of who they want to be. The fact that season four finishes on a character-piece episode highlights the centrality of identity to the season’s themes. It ends with the First Slayer informing Buffy that her identity remains not fully known: “You think you know what’s to come...what you are. You haven’t even begun.”

*(As an aside, I find it interesting that in “A New Man” Buffy and Spike are the only ones who are able to recognize Giles despite his transformation. Also that in “Who Are You?” Tara can recognize Buffy being wrong and that in that episode and “New Moon Rising” Faith and Spike can recognize Willow’s sexuality. Buffy and Spike navigate humanity and monstrousness in such a way that it fits that they’d be able to recognize Giles through his monstrous exterior. While Faith and Spike’s connections to repressed desire makes it understandable that they’d recognize Willow’s. Tara’s connection to Willow’s “true” self also makes it understandable that she’d recognize Buffy’s. In any case, these examples reflect ideas around recognition being an important element of navigating split identity.)

Second, there’s the idea of being a “real” person, often contrasted with the idea of being a “thing.” “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” features a character that is so ignored she becomes invisible, and emphasizes Angel’s lack of reflection, and the way that this makes him less real (“Looking in the mirror every day and seeing nothing there...it’s an overrated pleasure.”). In “Prophecy Girl”, when Xander is trying to get Angel to help him, he tells him that Buffy thinks that he’s a “real person”--in contrast to the nothingness of vampirism and Angel’s personal disengagement from the world. In “Halloween” Buffy thinks she needs to be a fake version of herself to appeal to Angel, and says that she “just wanted to be a real girl for once.” On the other hand, when Kendra shows up, Buffy tries to claim that she and not Kendra is the “real” Slayer. In “Lie to Me”, Drusilla describes herself as “not a person”, while by contrast in “The Dark Age” Buffy tells Giles: “I'm so used to you being a grownup, and then I find out that you're a person.” In “Ted”, Ted mocks Buffy by saying that she can’t slay him because he’s “real”, and Buffy is devastated when she thinks she’s killed him, saying: “He was a person, and I killed him.” In “Phases” she’s disgusted by the werewolf hunter: “It doesn't bother you that a werewolf is a person twenty-eight days out of the month?” She’ll express similar disgust towards Riley’s dismissal of Oz’s personhood in “New Moon Rising” and general “bigotry” towards the supernatural. In “Killed By Death” Buffy describes herself as a “real hero” who fights “real monsters.” In “Becoming, Part 1”, Drusilla cries that she does not want to be an “evil thing”, while Whistler tries to persuade Angel to join the cause by telling him: “You can become an even more useless rodent than you already are, or you can become someone. A person. Someone to be counted.” But he also warns Angel that the more he lives in the world, the more apart from it he’ll realize he “really” is. In “Anne” the hell dimension demons try to break down people’s selfhood until they think they’re “no one.” In “Homecoming”, like in “Halloween”, Buffy is anxious about how disconnected she is from being a real girl. She misses her yearbook picture, the record of her personhood. When her teacher doesn’t remember her, she says: “I’m like a non-person. Am I invisible?” She wants to be Homecoming queen so that she can say: “I was there. I went to high school, I had friends, and...for one moment, I got to live in the world.” In “Lovers Walk”, Spike describes himself as “nothing” without Dru. In “Amends”, Angels asks if he’s “a thing worth saving.” In the classroom discussion of Othello in “Earshot”, Buffy describes Iago as “not really a person. He's uh, the dark half of Othello himself,” describing Faith by proxy. This aspect of Faith will climax in “Who Are You?” when she describes herself as “nothing” as she pummels Buffy in lieu of herself.

Next, there’s the idea of “real” love. In “Reptile Boy”, Angel warns Buffy that their attraction “isn't some fairy tale.” In “Innocence” Angel mocks Buffy by claiming that he had to pretend to love her. In the same episode, Oz turns down Willow’s advance because he thinks she just wants to make Xander jealous. In “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” women try to insist that what they feel for Xander is real (“What we have is real”), and that they finally “really see” him. Meanwhile Xander turns Buffy down, saying “this isn’t real to you.” (Also: Drusilla tells Angel she’s “finally found a real man” in Xander.) In “Homecoming” Cordelia hopes to find out “if it’s real” between her and Xander. When Angel breaks up with Buffy in “The Prom” he says that Buffy needs a “real relationship, instead of this-this freak show.” In “The Harsh Light of Day” the debate about whether the Gem is “real” is arguably also about whether people’s romantic intentions are real. In “Something Blue” Buffy muses that “part of [her] believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting.” Xander says that “Angel's an okay guy” unless “you give him even one second of pure, real pleasure.” The many instances of sexual and romantic deception and coercion are also relevant to this subject. You have things like the predatory Ms. French in “Teacher’s Pet”, the boys building a girlfriend in “Some Assembly Required”, Parker hiding his intentions in “The Harsh Light of Day”, Faith sleeping with Riley in Buffy’s body, or the various attempted love spells. For all the show’s flaws when it came to acknowledging how nonconsensual some of these moments were, it’s also clear that they were not meant to be seen positively. Rather, they all seem to have been treated as unreal perversions of love.

Finally, there’s the idea of the “real world.” The show alters reality multiple times in the first four seasons: “Nightmares”, “The Wish”, “Fear, Itself”, “Superstar.” It also sets up a contrast between the supernatural world and the people aware of it, and the “regular” world that lives in ignorance (“Everything you've ever dreaded was under your bed, but told yourself couldn't be by the light of day. They're all real!”). Both worlds are treated as more real in different ways. The supernatural world is “real” in the sense of being the unacknowledged unknown, while the regular world is “real” in the sense of the everyday. If you went a bit more meta, you might say that the supernatural is the realm of metaphor, while the regular world is the things the metaphors refer to. Symbol versus referent. Or to make things Jungian, the unconscious versus the conscious. There’s also the idea of the “real world” as the world after high school (“I mean, when in the real world am I ever gonna need chemistry or history or math or the English language?”). In “Prophecy Girl” Giles tries to go fight the Master on Buffy’s behalf, saying: “I-I've waded around in these old books for so long, I've forgotten what the real world is like. I-it's time I found out.” Similarly in season four, a colonel disparages the Scoobies as a “band of freaks” and warns Riley: “They're anarchists, Finn. Too backwards for the real world.”

All of these usages of realness are ultimately intertwined. In “Halloween”, for example, Drusilla asks Spike “Do you love my insides? The parts you can’t see?”--a question that connects the episode’s ideas around inner and outer identity to the realness of love. In order to love, both people need to know who they are, and who they’re loving, and part of knowing who one is is also knowing the world and having a relationship to it. In order to grow up, one must be able to navigate reality in all its forms: literal and metaphorical, conscious and unconscious, personal and societal.

Now let’s get into “real” as it manifests in the last three seasons.

“Buffy vs Dracula” opens the season with Dracula using the same lines the First Slayer used in “Restless”: “You think you know...what you are. What's to come. You haven't even begun.” In both cases, it’s a figure of Buffy’s violent, isolationist side saying that it knows Buffy’s identity. Dracula adds a sexual overtone to it too. In other words, the season opens with the idea of Buffy reckoning with the shadow side of her Self, and connects her shadow to a sexualized vampire figure, as well as to romantic myth. “Real Me” starts the “real” motif, though. Dawn says that nobody knows the “real” her, which takes on significance when you think of Dawn as Buffy’s girl or human side. She’s dismissive of Buffy’s ability to do “backflips and stuff” since it’s not “a crucial job skill in the real world.” Meanwhile Harmony, who in the context of the episode one could read as a figure of Buffy’s vampire or shadow side, tries to tell Spike that “I’ve found the real me...and I like her.” In other words, both Buffy’s human and vampiric halves express a desire for realness. Moreover, Buffy has to rescue her girl half from her vampire half--but who notably, “sucks” at being bad. “The Replacement” reinforces these ideas around identity, reality and duality. Xander gets split in two by a device intended to split Buffy into her human and Slayer halves, and to kill her by killing her weak, human half. When Riley asks which Xander is “the real one” though, Giles replies that: “They're both real. They're both Xander. Neither one of them is evil. There's nothing in either of them that our Xander doesn't already possess.” The implication being that the same ultimately goes for Buffy. (Tellingly in “Intervention”, when Xander tries to say that Buffy and the bot are “both Buffy”, Buffy instantly disagrees. Buffy’s human and Slayer halves may both be Buffy, but the robot is not. The robot is the fakeness that Buffy, Spike and others are tempted by.). Keep all this context in mind for Spike’s arc, and how it ultimately connects to Buffy’s. In the season that Spike becomes both a love interest and the more ongoing avatar of Buffy’s shadow side, the show paints him--like Harmony in “Real Me”--as a vampire who is fairly incompetent at badness, and who increasingly expresses a desire for realness. Point being: season five establishes the idea of Buffy not only “reckoning” with her shadow, but reckoning with it in the aim of integrating it into her total (“real”) sense of herself. Bridging her human and Slayer, or “real” and romantic duality.

Meanwhile, Dawn’s (and the other characters’) ongoing anxiety over her realness can be read as Buffy’s anxiety over how human she really is. The word “real” shows up over and over in the context of Dawn. In “Blood Ties” Dawn despairs “Am I real? Am I anything?” Buffy says “[Dawn] probably feels like she can say or do anything right now. She's not real. We're not her family, we don't even know what she is.” Tara wonders “How can [Dawn] not be real?” to which Willow replies: “She’s real. She’s just, kinda...new.” Look at this conversation from “Listening to Fear”, and the usages of “thing”, “wrong”, and “real” in the context of both season six and the person/thing dichotomy established in earlier seasons:

DAWN: [Mom] called me a thing. 

BUFFY: She loves you. Okay? She's not herself. I told you what the doctor said about the tumor. 

DAWN: No, not just Mom. People. They keep saying weird stuff about me. 

BUFFY: Are you talking about the man in the hospital?

 DAWN: He called me a thing too. And there was another one. Weird guy outside the magic shop. He said I didn't belong. He said I wasn't real. Why does everybody keep doing that? What's wrong with me? 

BUFFY: Nothing. It's not you. I think there's something that happens in people's brains when there's something wrong. It's- it's like a short-circuit...and it makes them feel like nothing's real except for them. That's all it is.

Also look at this conversation between Dawn and Ben in the context of other characters calling themselves “nothing.”

BEN: Is there anybody I can call? Your sister? 

DAWN: I don't have a sister.

 BEN: Oh. You two have a fight? It's okay, I know how that goes. I got a sister too. They can be a real pain sometimes. I tell you, there've been a lot of nights I wish she didn't exist either. 

DAWN: It's not Buffy. It's me. I'm the one that doesn't exist. (sighs) 

BEN: Look, I know it can feel that way sometimes, but when you're older- 

DAWN: No, you don't understand. It's not real. None of this. (indicating her body) They made it.

 BEN: Dawn-

 DAWN: I'm nothing! I'm just a thing the monks made so Glory couldn't find me. I'm not real.

In other words, in a season in which Buffy is repeatedly afraid that being the Slayer is “turning [her] into stone”, her metaphorical humanity (or girlhood, or innocence) becomes afraid that it does not exist.

It’s also notable that Dawn is introduced in the season in which “real” life things like cancer and death become a driving force of the emotional plot. Buffy becomes vulnerable via Dawn--ie, her humanity. In “Shadow”, the episode that reveals that Joyce has cancer, Glory attacks Buffy and mocks her by saying: “There! That feels more real, don’t you think?” It’s a line that at once echoes Buffy feeling like she’s been attacked by realness, as well as a line that treats Buffy’s fighting like a performance she’s failing to pull off (ie, she is failing at both real life and at romantic performance, shades of season six). After Joyce’s death, Buffy says that her “Mom was the strong one in real life.” When Buffy has to drop out of school, Xander tells her “welcome to the real world”--which Ben will echo when he tries to cripple Glory with his humanity: “Welcome to the world.” And when Dawn stops keeping up with her schoolwork, Buffy tries to make her understand that “this is for real.” The crisis of the season involves the threat of “the walls separating realities” crumbling and bleeding together, echoing the way that the line between real, non-metaphorical life, and Buffy’s supernatural life--or put another way, between adulthood and childhood (or to connect to the Jungian reading, between the conscious and unconscious)--has begun to collapse.

“Real” of course, also shows up repeatedly in the context of love. When Riley confesses that he’s been seeing vampire prostitutes, he says that he knows what they offered “wasn’t real”, but that their hunger for him was. And the Initiative offers him his job back, saying it’s “the real deal”--in contrast to how Riley perceives Buffy’s feelings for him. Ie, not the real deal. Riley also threatens Spike with the language of realness, attacking him with a fake stake (“Looks real, doesn’t it?”), but promising to “do this for real” and “kill you for real” if he makes a move on Buffy*. “I Was Made to Love You” centers on a fake girlfriend. Anya wonders “Why would anyone do that if they could have a real live person?” to which Willow replies, “Maybe he couldn't. Find a real person.”  Outside of romantic love, the season also addresses the idea of real familial love and bonds. In “Intervention” Buffy tries to tell Dawn she loves her: “I love you. I really love you.” Giles calls Buffy Dawn’s “real family” while Glory tries to tell Dawn that her hell dimension is Dawn’s “real home.” There’s a repeated question of whether Dawn is “really” Buffy’s sister, because how could Buffy love someone who isn’t?

*(An interesting interaction if you read Riley as Buffy’s normativity and Spike as Buffy’s shadow. Buffy’s normativity is suspicious of her shadow and suggests that realness would destroy it. But it’s actually Buffy’s normativity--Riley--that falls apart under the pressures of both realism--Joyce’s illness--and shadowy romanticism--Riley going to vampires. Buffy might want a “stable” love, but her still-unresolved inner conflict between realism and romanticism makes this impossible. Or at least, that’s one way one could interpret things.)

And then there’s Spike. In “Crush”, Spike parallels Buffy’s behavior in “Halloween” when he dresses up like Riley--ie a real or normal man--to appeal to Buffy. Just like Buffy dressed up as a cliche hyperfeminine woman to appeal to Angel. Spike insists that what he and Buffy have is “not pretty but it’s real” and that “this is real, here”, while Xander says that Spike isn’t to be taken seriously because what he feels is “not real”. The climax of the episode involves Spike attempting to prove the reality of his feelings in the face of Buffy’s claims that what he feels is “not love.” Then in “Intervention” Spike of course orders up a fake Buffy. At first he says that “some say [a bot] is better than the real thing”, but at the end Buffy says, disappointed, that the bot “wasn’t even real.” However, his sacrifice for Dawn “was real.” In general, it’s notable how often fakeouts are a feature of the Spike and Buffy arc, whether that’s the bespelled love in “Something Blue”, Faith teasing Spike in “Who Are You?”, the dream in “Out of My Mind”, Buffy pretending to be the bot in “Intervention” or all of the many cases in which a character asks if Spike is Buffy’s boyfriend. The idea of them having feelings for each other (and in particular, Buffy having feelings for Spike) is treated as a joke, a tease, and then eventually a genuine question. Buffy and Spike could never happen in the real world...or could it?

Notice how over and over in season five, it’s Spike and Dawn that have their realness questioned in different ways. In Dawn’s case, her “realness” is precarious in the sense that it’s unclear whether she should be treated (loved) like a real person, given her mystical origins. But also in the sense that she is physically vulnerable and could easily die. Meanwhile Spike’s realness is uncertain in the sense that it’s unclear whether or not he can feel or behave like a “real” person, given his soulless status. In other words, just like Buffy with her Slayerness, the idea that either Spike or Dawn might not be “real” is connected to the fact that they are supernatural. Moreover, Dawn and Spike are both repeatedly portrayed as outsiders because of their precarious realness. Dawn is excluded from information, and is unsure whether Buffy and Joyce will accept her. Spike too is excluded from information, and unsure whether Buffy will accept him into her life. Multiple times, Spike and Dawn have conversations alone together outside of Buffy’s house (“Blood Ties”, “Crush”, “Forever”, “Tough Love”, etc), aligning them as companions in outsiderness. Taken together, Spike and Dawn reflect the two sides of Buffy’s dual nature, and her struggle to see them both as truly part of her. In turn, it’s significant that Buffy ends up inviting both into her life. Dawn earlier in the season, and Spike in “The Gift.” Both sides of Buffy’s nature prove themselves willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.*

*(An arc, incidentally, that is foreshadowed early on by Tara’s story in “Family”. Tara is torn between her--apparent--human and demonic halves and considers herself an outsider, despite her desire to help. But she is eventually welcomed into Buffy’s circle, in a scene that Dawn and Spike are both present for and actively participate in.)

In general, the world “real” just infuses season five, with more examples than I can even address. Things like Tara inventing constellations because “the real ones never made sense to [her]”, or Anya wanting to play the game of Life with “real money”, or Buffy saying that going to a “real hospital” in “Fool For Love” would get her “real mom, real freaked out.” It’s a word that’s always popping up like a low-level anxiety. Realness is coming, and the characters cannot stop it.

In a fulfillment of that prophecy, in season six Buffy’s (and other characters’) anxiety over her realness is no longer metaphorically externalized in characters like Angel, Dawn or Faith, but becomes intensely located within herself, and mirrored in Spike. Gone are the scenes in which Buffy easily reassures Dawn that she is real and not a thing. Instead, she begins to apply words like “thing”, “nothing”, and “real” directly to herself, or to Spike as thinly-veiled projection. The realness of Buffy becomes a genuinely pressing question, compared to previous seasons when it was never really in doubt. So the season opens with the Buffybot playing Buffy’s role. The characters lament that “the only really real Buffy is really Buffy,” which the Buffybot chirpily parrots as a knock-knock joke (a type of joke, notably, about identity), devoid of the solemnity of the original sentiment: “'If we want her to be exactly she'll never be exactly I know the only really real Buffy is really Buffy and she's gone' who?” When Buffy does come back, Dawn and other characters repeatedly ask if it’s “really” her and if she’s “really” there. In “Life Serial”, Buffy attends a seminar about the “Social Construction of Reality” (the word “Reality” is written on the blackboard), that introduces the question of whether identity is something externally defined or individually created. She spends the episode having her perceptions messed with by the Trio, and trying to figure out who she is and wants to be. The Trio gloats that they’re “really supervillains now” because they got one up on Buffy. In “All the Way” there’s various talk of the costumes not actually being accurate to reality (“You’re not a real pirate!”, “If I see one more idiot that thinks witches are all hairy moles and rotted teeth”), a reminder of the idea of identity performance. Dawn is hurt because she thought the vampire “really liked [her].” He says that he does, and moves to bite her--a dynamic that foreshadows the simultaneous sincerity and violence of the Spike and Buffy dynamic. In “Once More, With Feeling” Buffy sings that “nothing here is real, nothing here is right” and that she ��can’t even see / if this is really me.” Sweet sings to Dawn that he’ll “make it real, girl.” Spike observes that Buffy talks to him because “whisper in a dead man’s ear / it doesn’t make it real”, and says about one of Sweet’s puppets: “Someday he’ll be a real boy.” Repeatedly, Buffy describes her identity as a role she is trying to fulfill, rather than something she connects with. And of course before she and Spike kiss, Buffy sings that “this isn’t real / but I just wanna feel.”

In “Tabula Rasa”, Spike tries to tell Buffy that “I know what kind of girl you really are” but fades out with a “...don’t I?” Anya wonders if Giles is leaving “for real this time?” After the characters lose their memories, Tara gets excited because “this is a magic shop, a real magic shop.” Similarly Buffy says: “Monsters are real. Did we know that?” (Remember Buffy telling the boy in “Killed By Death” about her being a “real hero” who fights “real monsters”). In “Wrecked” a stoned Willow dismisses Dawn’s fear of the demon chasing them: “Oh it’s okay, he’s not real.” To which Dawn says, scared: “Seems real! Very! Real!” In “Doublemeat Palace”, Anya says that Xander lectures her about “how a real human would behave.” In “Dead Things” Dawn says that Janice’s mom is going to “teach me how to make real tortillas”, in contrast to the lack of nourishment Buffy provides. Spike asks what Buffy’s friends would think of her if they knew who she “really” was. Dawn snaps that Buffy isn’t “really here.” Eventually, Buffy despairs that she “can’t feel anything real” while attacking Spike as a proxy for attacking herself. In “Older and Far Away”, Buffy tries to promise Dawn that they’ll “sit down and have a real dinner” (shades of those “real tortillas”). In “As You Were”, Sam is excited about “patrolling with the real, live Slayer”--a pointed phrase to apply to a Buffy who has repeatedly asserted that she is neither real nor alive. In “Hell’s Bells” Anya tries to stop Xander from being persuaded by the vision of their future: “But it wa - it wasn't real. What he showed you, it wasn't real.” To which Xander replies: “I know it wasn't real. But it could be.” In “Normal Again”, the characters of the two competing realities each claim that the other world isn’t real (“No, none of that’s real, none of it. You’re in a mental institution.”). Dawn and Joyce, both figures of Buffy’s family, make the most appeals to Buffy, asserting their realness and the fakeness of the other world. Spike remarks: “So, she's having the wiggins, is she? Thinks none of us are real. Bloody self-centered, if you ask me.”

In “Entropy”, Anya gets annoyed that Xander readily agrees to the curses she can’t inflict on him: “Those are metaphor intestines! You're not in any real pain! What's wrong with me?” Spike insists that what he feels for Buffy is “real” to which she replies “I think it is. For you.” Spike muses that despite their unnatural existence, he and Anya are the “only ones who are really alive.” Multiple times, Buffy is accused of not knowing who Spike “really is.” In “Seeing Red”, Dawn asks if Spike “really” loves Buffy, and Spike admits to Clem that he and Buffy were “never together. Not really. She’d never lower herself that far.” Andrew explains that the Trio “can't Siegfried and Roy” the barrier protecting the orbs they’re after, “It's gotta be the real deal.” During their fight, Warren mocks Buffy: “What's the matter baby? You never fight a real man before? ” In “Villains”, Andrew cries that Warren was “just using” him and “never really loved--” (him), a farcical echo of Spike and Buffy. Jonathan chastises Andrew that “this is real life.” Warren postures that he needs “a real gang, you know, not a--not a couple of wannabes. ” Just before she kills him, Willow taunts Warren with one of his bullets: “Wanna know what a bullet feels like, Warren? A real one? It's not like in the comics. ” Anya warns a security guard regarding the danger Willow poses: “These things are real. They're dangerous. And they're coming.” In “Two to Go”, Buffy and Willow debate about what a Slayer “really” is. Finally in “Grave” Buffy tells Giles that for a long time after her resurrection she felt like she wasn’t “really here”, but that that feeling has gone away.

In other words, season six realizes the full threat of realness that season five began. It threatens the idea of Buffy being overwhelmed by her shadow, i.e. the mystical, violent half of her that seems antithetical to realness. The part of her that, like a vampire, she thinks cannot grow or change or feel. That cannot have real emotions or live in the real world. But as discussed in the previous post on season six, Buffy--and Spike, as a mirror of her--eventually accepts that realness, despite the pain of it. Buffy no longer wants to protect Dawn, her humanity, from the real world, she wants to show it to her. Meanwhile Spike, her shadow, proves itself capable of change after all, committing to reality by getting a soul.

While it might seem that the way Spike and Dawn are used in the resolution of season six is an unnecessary rehash of the resolution of season five, in fact I think the way the two seasons deal with the idea of accepting the “real world” and “real identity” are quite different. Season five, to me, involves a passive kind of acceptance of reality. Repeatedly, we see characters helpless in the face of things they can’t control--love, death, pain, selfhood. It challenges characters to behave gracefully in the face of difficult, even impossible choices. If season five is a conclusion of something, it is perhaps a conclusion of the idea of “You have a choice. You don’t have a good choice, but you have a choice” that has defined the show from the beginning. Buffy finishes season five having accepted both her own nature and the unfair nature of the world, and this is what allows her to sacrifice herself and move on to the adult world. By contrast, season six demands that the characters take an active role in the creation of their reality and identity. And it is this demand that frightens them all so much, and tempts them to stagnate, regress, give up. Buffy no longer has authorities either to guide her or to struggle against, nor supernatural battles passively thrust upon her. She is alone with her own power, and must overcome her fear of using that power in the course of creating her own life.

Season seven will then take this idea of having an active relationship to reality to another level, by introducing the idea not just of creating identity, but altering the world itself.

Season seven opens with Buffy teaching Dawn to fight, lecturing her with the lesson from the last season: “It's real. It's the only lesson, Dawn. It's always real.” Dawn will repeat the sentiment later in the episode to a disbelieving friend: “Lesson one: it’s always real.” When Spike appears in the basement Buffy asks “Are you real?” and he begins to laugh hysterically. In “Beneath You”, a girl vents to Anya: “God, my boyfriend's spineless, and he should just—you know, he should just be spineless for real.” To which Anya replies: “No spine. Got it. I can do that.” Trying to perform his soulless persona, Spike says to Buffy “You've had your turn, love. Leave the real violence to the demons, yeah?” In “Selfless” Anya asks Xander sadly: “What if I’m really nobody?” In “Him”, Buffy and Dawn fight about how “real” Dawn’s feelings for RJ really are:

DAWN:  It isn't a crush. It's love. I love R.J.

BUFFY : Again, since yesterday. Dawn, it's awfully fast.

DAWN: What? You're telling me I don't feel what I feel?

BUFFY:  No, of course not. I believe that you think it's real. It seems real...to you.

DAWN : You know what? Maybe I don't want advice from the Dysfunction Queen. You have no idea how I feel. You have no idea what real love is. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't make fun of me this way.

BUFFY:  Dawn, I'm not making fun of you.

DAWN:  Just go. Leave me alone.

Buffy uses the same language with Dawn that she used with Spike in “Entropy” (“I think it is. For you.”), but in a situation that echoes her quick feelings for Angel in season one. In “Conversations With Dead People” Holden realizes his and Buffy’s camaraderie will have to end in a fight to the death: “Wow, reality just shows up sometimes, doesn't it?” Later, Buffy muses to him about Spike: “And the joke is...he loved me. I mean, in his own sick, soulless way, he really did care for me. But I-I didn't want to be loved.” She tries to be real about herself, and Spike. In general, having accepted the necessity of realness by the end of season six, Buffy spends season seven trying to hold on to it, and integrate it with her life. Instead of trying to accept that she is real, Buffy knows in season seven that “it’s always real,” but struggles to know what the “real” thing is. She struggles to see through illusions and preconceptions, and tries to assert her understanding of reality. Notice how unlike in “Bewitched, etc” in season two, when Buffy is caught up in Xander’s love spell, Buffy in “Him” is able to tell Dawn that “No guy is worth your life--not ever” even without the spell being broken. She is no longer consumed by passions and illusions the way she was as a teenager, but can see through a spell.

To that end, throughout season seven, the First becomes a not-real version of various dead people. Moreover, the fact that the First cannot be touched suggests the idea of the search for the real in the face of the illusory. What is the tangible thing? In “Sleeper” Willow and Buffy talk about these aspects of the First, using the language of deception, illusion, and reality:

WILLOW: Buffy, this thing knows us. It made us think that we were talking to people we knew. Mine said it came with a message from Tara. But Dawn actually saw your Mother. This thing, it had me for a while. I mean, before it started letting loose with the pulse-pounding terror. But before that, the lies were very convincing. It just seems real.

BUFFY : Lies...

WILLOW:  I mean maybe, maybe to confuse us, to mess us up. Or maybe just to be cool.

BUFFY : Vampire I killed last night told me Spike sired him. Two nights ago.

WILLOW:  Well, that's impossible, right? So maybe it was another one. A fake-out. You got one too. It wasn't a real vamp.

BUFFY:  It dusted real enough.

But most significantly, the only “living” characters the First becomes are Spike and Buffy. So Buffy’s struggle to see through preconceptions also arguably goes for her perceptions of herself--and Spike, as usual, as a mirror of her. In “Sleeper” the First appears to Spike as both Spike and Buffy at different points, and forces Spike to behave as a false version of himself. In “Never Leave Me” Spike says that Buffy has never met “the real me.” Just before raising an ubervamp the First asks him: “Now, Spike, wanna see what a real vampire looks like?” As Buffy, the First tells Spike to “be realistic” about Buffy’s belief in him: “I don’t even believe in myself.” (The First’s insistence that Spike needs to move on also echoes Buffy’s response to Spike in “Entropy” when he told her his feelings were real.). When Buffy comes to rescue Spike, he at first insists that she is “just a figment”, but realizes it’s the real Buffy when he touches her. His realization parallels his realization in “Intervention” that the Buffy kissing him is Buffy, and his realization that the Buffy descending the stairs in “After Life” is not the bot either.

To continue the clip show: In “Showtime”, Buffy tries to tell the First appearing as her mother: “You’re not real.” She asks Giles if he’ll “ever show up for a real visit.” In the guise of one of the Potentials, the First tries to make the others feel unprepared by saying it’s “never even seen a real vampire, much less slayed one.” The girls wonder how Buffy can protect them when she couldn’t defeat an ubervamp, “and you’re the real slayer.” In “Potential”, Amanda asks Dawn about the vampire that attacked them, “Is it real? Was it really a vampire? I bet you think I’m crazy,” but Dawn believes her. After the other Potentials successfully fight off a group of vampires, Rona is excited: “It was like we knew what we were doing. For real.” When Willow transforms into Warren in “The Killer In Me”, Andrew touches her face in awe. “It’s so real,” he says, to which she replies: “I’m all too aware.” In “First Date” Buffy describes Wood as “too charming to be real.” In “Get it Done”, just before finding Chloe’s body, Buffy jokes with Dawn about whether she has any “real homework.” When transported to the Shadowmen world, Buffy tries to tell herself “I'm not really here at all. None of this is actually happening. This is like a play. Like some shadow-play. Some non-reality re-enactment hologramy--” whereupon one of the men knocks her over (Lesson one: it’s always real). In “Storyteller” Buffy notes that “here, in this school, over the hellmouth”, the way things feel “kind of starts being that way for real.” She tries to get Andrew to get real and “stop telling stories.”

In “Dirty Girls” Caleb defines Buffy by her “Strength. And the loneliness that comes with real strength.” In “Empty Places” Spike is skeptical of the mission that Giles wants to send him on, but Giles assures him that it is “bonafide, with real ramifications.” During the climactic confrontation between Buffy and the others, Faith expresses skepticism about Buffy’s plan. “ Listen, we're fighters, all of us, but you gotta give me something to fight, something real, not—” she says, to which Giles adds, “Windmills.” In “Touched”, in the aftermath of the First appearing as the Mayor to Faith, Wood says to her: “Listen, nobody wants to be alone, Faith. We all want someone who cares, to be touched that way. I mean, the First deals in figments, but that wanting is real.” Spike confirms the reality that Buffy couldn’t confirm in “Empty Places”, that something is at the vineyard. And more importantly, confirms the reality of how he sees her, and the reality of his love by extension: “I’ve seen the best and the worst of you, and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are.” In “End of Days” the Guardian says she’s “as real as” Buffy is. In “Chosen” the First wears Buffy’s face. It taunts her by saying that none of the Potentials (“those girlies”) “will ever know real power unless” Buffy is dead. Which of course, Buffy ends up proving wrong. And finally, as the amulet begins to work its magic, Spike says, with awe: “My soul...it’s really there.”

Over and over season seven uses phrases like “real vampire” and “real strength.” Over and over, it asks if people are real. It asks if stories and propositions and feelings are real. To change the world, one must be able to see the world for what it is, to see what needs changing. One must be able to see power as something that can be creative, not just destructive. In total, Buffy finishes the season having rejected the false image of the First (“I want you to get out of my face”), having accepted the reality of her shadow and found strength in trusting it (Spike, Faith), having discovered that “real” power is about connection and generosity rather than isolation, having experienced romantic love that is based on real--both positive and negative--understanding, and smiling at the prospect of facing the real world.

The next half of this post will discuss the parallel evolution of the show’s symbolic use of fire. If “real” is about the “real” half of the realism/romanticism duality, then fire is about the romantic half.

#romanticism series #gen #s1 #s2 #s3 #s4 #s5 #s6 #s7 #buffy #spike #once again this is long #about 7400 words #hence splitting it up #have to say i don't exactly think this is my best writing #i kind crap out on proving things compared to other posts #but it was already so long and i'd only meant to post a bunch of unadorned examples in the first place #that i'm just gonna go ahead and post it #and mark it off as an interlude

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thedevilsdom · 4 years ago

Note

making 5000 year old virgin levi cum in his pants is SUCH a mood. a concept even. sitting on his lap and “accidentally” grinding down against him... acting all shocked and surprised when he cums and starts crying and apologizing, then casually reaching into his boxers and running your fingers through his cum and shushing him by making him clean them up... or just cooing about how much of a messy little boy he is and teasingly stroking him and overstimulating him until he’s huffing and trying to muffle his moans into your shoulder... OR not even responding at all and ending the night as if you never noticed, and he can’t help but get himself off later to the shame and humiliation and desire for u he’s left sitting alone with... so many options

ok here we fuckin go

- Leviathan/Female Reader, ~3k words, Possibly going to be continued as a multi-chap fic

Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Leviathan’s desire to show someone his interests overruled his nervousness and embarrassment every time. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about personal space or boundaries once he got you in his lap, watching as he played his game.

He’s not even really paying attention to you. You can easily tell without even looking that his eyes are flitting across the screen, tracking and locking on to whatever target he’s picked next before his fingers hurriedly press the keys on his keyboard to execute whatever super-special-mega-power-move-combo he’s got planned. Not that you’re complaining. The bright colors of the screen and the gameplay are entertaining enough, plus it’s cute to see Levi all wrapped up in his interests like this. You know that he could stand to have more people around to indulge him like you are now. It’d probably do wonders for his self esteem.

You split your time between looking at the screen, at your D.D.D, and at him. He’s dressed so casually, a graphic t-shirt and a pair of pale gray sweatpants, and a pair of Mononoke Land socks on his feet. It’s endearing how he moves underneath you, tensing up in stressful points in the match, sometimes bouncing his leg or wiggling his toes. You’re not even sure that he knows he’s doing any of it.

He wraps up his match, ending it in a close victory, but a victory nonetheless, just as he’d done in the past three matches you’d sat through. You hear him sigh and flop back against the backrest of his chair, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck. His spreads his fingers then forms a fist a few times, stretching between matches before he queues up for another. You take the lull in activity as an opportunity, your hand reaching down and stroking the outside of his thigh lightly, just to grab is attention, and he jumps in surprise underneath you.

“Heh, sorry,” You giggle, turning a little so that you can look back and see him, “I just wanted to say thank you for showing me this stuff, it’s pretty fun.”

You swear something short circuits in his head. His eyes are wide, you see his snake-like pupils dilate for a moment before returning to normal, his cheeks are immediately filled with red, his hands twitch uselessly above his keyboard. His eyes dart away from you, lips parting as he stutters out nonsense.

“Wh- I- Um- I- Y-You? Th-thank you- uh- you can play, if you want. I can queue you up for a quick play match and- um- you can play.” He says with a nervous shiver to his voice. You give him a bright, eager smile that stops his heart for just a second,

“Sure! I’ll see if I can do any of the stuff you can, though I dunno if I’ll be that good.” You tell him, watching as he clicks and sets up the queue for a quick play match for you. Your words only make him tense and heat up more.

“Oh, well, uh, that’s- I mean, that’s true, but I-I’m sure you’ll do fine!” He squeaks. You lean forward in the chair, getting your hands situated on the keyboard and mouse, getting ready for the game. Just as you think you might’ve figured out where to put your fingers, you suddenly feel Leviathan’s hand on yours,

“If you lift your palm up like this and curl your fingers a little, it makes it easier to press a different key, if you need to.” He explains. Marveling at the way he so easily maneuvers your hand into a better position, you realize that when he’s in the little realm of his interests, his nervousness just melts away. Though, you don’t bring it up, because you know that if you do, he’ll just be reduced to a stammering mess again. Instead, you give him a nod and a smile, getting ready for the game.

As the screen lights up with the ‘game found!’ screen, Leviathan puts his headphones over your head and leans over your shoulder to watch you play. You can tell that as you rapidly mash buttons and try your best to aim, there are several moments where he wants to backseat-game, but he bites his tongue and doesn’t criticize. As you play you alternate between being just a few inches from the screen, to leaning back against Levi’s chest, to almost standing up from the chair, all thinking that it’d give you a better aim.

Levi, on the other hand, was having a hard time controlling himself. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s seen this kind of scenario in so many hentai before, but he doesn’t exactly want to start taking advice from those, especially when the approval of the person he’s got a crush on is on the line. He’s just hoping that the headphones and sounds of the game are enough to hide his pathetic little whimpers as you unknowingly grind on his erect cocks. He’d never been so turned on by just a little pressure before. It’s getting harder and harder for him to think rationally, but he does know that the combination of him being in sweatpants, plus his ‘double-trouble’ issue, means that it’s going to be nearly impossible for you to not notice if he tries to shoo you out of the room.

Truth be told, you’re already well aware of the situation you’ve wound up in. You could feel something stiff pressing into your ass since the second you’d really started playing, and every little movement on your part has been intentional. You revel in every time Levi tenses up, or when his breath hitches, and in the confused floating of his hands as he tries to figure out where to put them.

When the match concludes with a draw, you let out a defeated sigh and lean back against his chest. His whole body goes rigid.

“Aww,” You huff, dropping your head back against his shoulder. “Do you wanna play? Or should I stay in control?” Your warm breath ghosts across his neck and makes him shiver. He’s struggling to keep from shifting into his demon form, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can last-

With just a little rock of your hips, you make him come undone.

He offers up a deliciously shaky gasp and his hips twitch involuntarily under your own, pushing his stiffness against your ass as sticky cum floods his boxers. You feel him shiver and shudder under you, pathetic little whines being torn from his throat, despite his attempts to keep them in. Finally, with a miserable little sob, his hips drop back down into the chair.

You don’t say a word as you stand up. Just to have his heart leap into his throat, you stay still for a second or two. He doesn’t say anything, still holding on to the hope that maybe you didn’t notice, though, that would be impossible.

His heart stops when you turn around.

Your eyes trail up and down his body. He’s pushed back into his seat, like he’d be able to disappear into it if he tried hard enough. His demon form is out, horns poking the headrest and tail flowing out through a gap in the armrest. His hands are in little fists, pulled up to his chest, and his legs are squeezed shut. Between them, at the crux, is a huge dark spot. If it weren’t for his vocal reaction, you honestly would’ve assumed he’d wet himself, based on the size of the stain alone. You glance up to his face. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated and locked onto you, and his mouth looks like he’s trying to form words, only to give up halfway through. He looks shocked and hurt.

“I’m sorry!” He chokes out just as you were about to speak. “I’m sorry I’m a gr-gross, yucky otaku who can’t-can’t control himself and I-I-I!” His eyes fill with tears, darting around the room as he panics, trying to figure out if he wants you to stay or leave.

“Shh, Levi,” You purr, leaning down over him and touching the waistband of his pants with a finger, “May I?” Eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“It-I- It’s a- a… I’m not… Not normal,” He mumbles, “Down there.”

“Oh?” To his surprise, you don’t sound disgusted or repulsed, you sound intrigued.

“You- you uh, you can, if you want.” Conceding, Levi knows that he wants this, especially if his still aching tent is anything to go by.

“Yeah, but do you, Levi?” You ask, pulling your hands back for a moment, completely willing to either give him a second to think or to turn you away, but he nearly cuts you off with an energetic nod of his head,

“Yes! I-I do want it, I want you to touch me there.” He whines.

“Good boy.”

With a smile, you hook your fingers around the waistband of his pants, pulling them down first. Underneath them is a pair of black boxers, so saturated with cum that they cling to his skin. He flushes impossibly darker, but you only give him an encouraging, pleased grin. Offering a second for him to collect himself, you hold off for just a moment before you continue, slowly taking hold of his waistband and peeling the cloth from him, pulling it down his thighs.

Your eyes are glued to his body as you reveal what he meant when he said not normal. You’d say that that is one hundred percent correct. Coming from a near reptilian vertical slit is a pair of dicks, both distinctly inhuman. They’re ridged, and a dark blue at the shaft, fading into an indigo at the tips, both absolutely dripping with cum. You pause for a moment and Levi immediately starts spiraling,

“I knew you’d think it’s weird! F-forget this, just go, you don’t have to do an-nnMPH?!”

He’s shut up by you swiping up some of his cum on your fingers and pressing them past his lips. The pads of your fingers press down on his tongue, but you don’t force them any more inside, giving him the chance to pull away- which he doesn’t take. Instead, his eyes flutter shut, tongue laving across your fingers and nursing his own cum off of them.

“There’s my good boy,” You offer a docile smile. “Poor thing just couldn’t stop himself from cumming in his boxers, hm? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted this to happen.” You take your fingers back and scoop up some more cum to feed him. In the in between, he mutters,

“N-no, I didn’t want it to happen this way, but…” Levi’s voice trails off, but you can put two and two together.

“Oh? You’ve thought about me touching you like this before?” That lights a fire inside you. “You’ve thought about being my good little boy? I always did think you’d make a good boy for me, Levi.”

“Y-You thought about- about me? Like that!?” He sounds absolutely shocked, and you giggle. “Um! I’ve uh, always- always been i-into you… Since, like, forever ago…”

That’s a confession, you suppose.

“I’ve been ‘into you’ too, Levi.” You push your dripping fingers into his mouth again. “You’re so cute, and I love seeing you get so excited about the stuff you like. I just wish you weren’t so down on yourself.” The backs of your fingers on your free hand stroke up the length of his lower cock, “I’m gonna keep calling you my good boy until you realize that that’s what you are.”

He swallows around you fingers, nodding gently so as to not shake them away. Levi gives pathetic little whimpers around your digits, suckling on them until they’re clean once again. The hand not in his mouth drifts down to his cocks, gently holding them both and slowly starting to stroke them.

“A- Ah!” He squeaks, hips twitching up into your touch. He’s so responsive, with his wide eyes and little sounds, it’s adorable. “That’s! It’s- you’re t-touching my- hhahn!”

“You have such cute reactions,” You purr, “All from me just rubbing your cocks a little bit. Has anyone ever made you feel good like this before, Levi?” You don’t necessarily tell it how it is, because you’re pretty sure that if you outright asked him if he was a virgin, or if you said ‘hasn’t anyone ever jerked you off besides yourself?’ Leviathan would pass out. Luckily though, he doesn’t, and he responds with a mute shake of his head, ‘no’.

With a couple more slow strokes, he gasps, finally allowing his hands to reach out and touch you. They wrap limply around your shoulders, pulling you down and him up, as he nuzzles into your neck to hide his face. The second his heated skin makes contact with your own he shivers.

“Fuck, you’re- I can- you smell really good…” He murmurs against you, “You smell like- like you.”

“You’ve paid attention to what I smell like, Levi?” You see a very clear opportunity to tease him, and of course you take it. “Have you thought about it? Thought about stealing my clothes out of the laundry? You already admitted that you’ve thought of me touching you, there’s no point in hiding.”

“Y-You, uh, it- I- I thought about- hnnn-“ He arches his back and pushes his face further against your neck, “Thought about t-taking your- your shirts and putting them over, uh, over my body pillows,” Leviathan’s voice is an adorable little whine. His confession only makes you want to make him break more. “And I thought about…” He trails off the last part of that sentence.

“What did you think about, Levia-chan?” Hand not stopping on his cock, your voice is a low, sultry purr.

“Y-Your- your underwear… Wanted to- press it against my- ‘n sm- agh! I can’t say it!” He shakes his head, his body shivering. He’s wracked with tremors like a little puppy learning how to walk, it’s cute.

“You wanted to smell my underwear, baby?” Your other hand pets the back of his head for a moment. “What if I take them off right now and press them up against your face? Smother you with them?

He whines, high pitched and reedy. You feel soft lips press against your neck as he gently peppers it with kisses, not really sure what to do but desperate to show you how grateful he is for this. You can feel his fangs ghost over your skin, a threat that he doesn’t even make, and his tongue darting out to lap at your neck. The vibrations of his moans and the heated huffs of breath against you draw out a warm coursing of arousal down your spine.

“Just-! Just like that, your hand is so s-soft, it feels so good, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” He babbles, interrupted by moans and quick kisses and kitten licks to your skin.

“Is my little Leviathan gonna cum all over my hands?” Deciding not to be too cruel, when he nods his head and whines, you don’t stop jerking him off. “Good, good boy. I want you to cum for me.”

His hips fuck into your hand uncontrollably, rutting and desperate as you feel his thighs quake and his lip tremble against the nape of your neck. His hands grasp blindly at your back, holding onto you as he fucks your fist. His breath hitches again and again, half said segments of words falling from his lips until you hear him go silent for just a split second-

Then he wails.

Leviathan’s voice is high and broken and needy as he finally hits his orgasm, cum spilling out between you, gushing and flooding your hand as his hips shakily thrust forward, fucking his cum into your fist. He hiccups and sobs, riding out his orgasm before slumping back into his seat, though still keeping his head nuzzled into your neck.

Only you don’t stop. Tormenting him with the pleasure filled pain of overstimulation, you keep stroking your cum slicked fist on his cocks. He gasps,

“Ah-hah?! I-I already-! I just came, why’re you- hhah!” Leviathan’s whole body trembles, hips twitching, out of his control. You hum, your movements and tone almost bored, as though you were doing anything other than getting an extremely reactive demon off. “Too much, too much! It- it h-hurts!” Tears spill down his cheeks while he sobs. “Pl-please, pleasepleaseplease-!”

“Please what, Levi?” You’re surprise that he isn’t trying to get away from you, instead mostly staying put while his hips twitch. “Do you want me to stop? All you have to do is ask.”

“Nnn-no! no, no, it’s- ghh- it’s a lot, but- fuck,” All the words he tries to get out are ruined by the tremble in his voice and the rattling of his sobs that shake his whole body. “Gonna cum again, pleeeease, can I c-cum again?”

“Take whatever you need, baby.”

That’s all the permission he needs. He falls headlong into another orgasm, crying and sobbing into your shoulder as the intense pleasure overtakes him and dots swim in his vision, more cum pouring out of his cocks and dirtying your hand.

You- ever caring and careful- let him calm down against you. Leviathan shakes and trembles, breath hitching against your shoulder as hot tears roll down his flushed cheeks.

“You okay, baby boy?” You say, keeping any teasing out of your voice. He mumbles out a little response and nods shyly against you. “Good, take all the time you need, that was really intense.”

With a few deep breaths, he calms down enough to pull away, wiping at his face with the sleeves of his jacket. Just when he thought he might be able to face you, his eyes drift down and he spots the flood of cum that he’d produced.

“You did so good for me,” You lean forward and press your cum soaked fingers to his lips again, letting him suckle on them, giving him something to do.

“I didn’t do anything.” He mumbles.

“Of course you did,” Your fingers press down gently on his tongue, admonishing him, “You and your body are both so honest with me, thank you for letting me play with you, Levi.” He just sighs around your fingers.

You stay in his room for a little while afterwards, resuming your hanging out as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, once you’d both gotten cleaned up. Watching anime and playing video games until it was late in the night, and only then did you bid Levi goodnight and head off to your own room, wondering how this night was going to affect things between the two of you.

#obey me #omswd #obey me levi #levi #leviathan #obey me leviathan #my writing #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #🍉 anon #Anonymous #series- inexperienced #inexperienced

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holden-caulfield · 4 years ago

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s...ongbird (any songs a person sings will get stuck in their soulmate’s head for the duration they decide to sing it). Hii! Hope you're doing well! If it's ok can I get a S with Draco Malfoy? If not, its ok! Thanks anyways!

Hi lovely, thank you so much for your request, really hope you like it!!🥰

(I did write this with the song 'Love Of My Life' by Queen in mind but i think it can work with any sad song really, just ignore the three verses i put at some point!)

Just A Song Away

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: soulmate au in which one can hear the song the other is singing in their head.

Prompt from this list.

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1711

It was strange, really. Draco never heard that song before. It was a rather sorrowful melody and he was sure he had never heard it if not in his head, in that precise moment.

It was melancholic at most, the notes alternating slowly in his mind but he didn't know how they did, the melody completely new to him and nevertheless it was as if he had heard it a thousand times already. Fragile words resounded softly as he desperately tried to think of the origin of the song.

His efforts were all in vain because the song ended just as quickly as it started in his head. The words were always the same, repeating like a tedious lullaby, but never boring.

Oh how he longed to know to whom those words, or better those thoughts, belonged to. He knew that the one singing those doleful verses was his soulmate, that one person that should have been his true love, that one individual that could have accepted him without any judgement, the one that should have loved him unconditionally.

He didn't actually believe in that, he believed those were all lies. At least, that's what he told his friends whenever the topic was brought up: simple disgust evident on his face when dreamy looks were exchanged about soulmates.

He was skeptical and he had his reasons. Who would have loved Draco Malfoy if they knew who he was? The terrible things he had done in the past? And the terrible things he would have done in the future?

No, a soulmate was not possible for someone like him. But he liked to believe. He liked to believe in the eventuality of it, when no one was looking, hope only existing in his deepest thoughts.

The scorn he exhibited towards those who actually, fervently believed in the romantic concept might have been the reason why he didn't even look for his one and only.

The real reason, however, was that he was content this way. Hearing the delicate words in his head was enough for him, the impending prospect of his soulmate actually discovering him was enough to keep him from searching his person.

What made him change his mind, what made him think that maybe, just maybe, he should have begun his research was the sudden change in the periodical words that invaded his head. There were no longer cheerful tunes, instead desolate lines that repeated themselves almost obsessively.

He was worried, worried for someone with no name and no face, only a few sentences that somehow meant more to Draco than anything else. He was worried and he reckoned he could have ended the suffering that was weighing down on his unknown soulmate, but he always chased away those thoughts.

Unlike Draco Malfoy, you very much wanted to find your soulmate and everyone in the whole school had your same idea in mind.

Many tried singing out loud throughout the corridors, hoping that that certain special someone would notice them and finally stop the frantic search.

Others were too shy to actually do that and instead sang to themselves when alone and hoped their soulmate would have been smart enough to figure out who they were.

You weren't so hopeful. No song had been stuck in your head, no melodies, no silly tunes, not even a curt note. The upsetting suspicion you didn't have a soulmate often made his way in your mind, a mind that should have been occupied by songs and not by forlorn ideas.

It was perhaps the growing frequency of those thoughts that made you change musical tastes or maybe your break up. Maybe the latter had lead to the former and, together, they had made you feel undeserving of love.

You knew the guy you were dating wasn't your soulmate, you didn't hear his songs and he didn't hear yours, but a tiny part of you still hoped it was just a mistake, a stupid, silly, sad mistake.

It wasn't. It was inevitable and yet your heart was broken. The only solace you deemed possible was found in music, a new-found low-spirited music.

Wretched, you started listening and frequently humming to your new consolation. No one would have heard it either way.

Your sadness was only amplified by the constant reminder that other students were finding their true love, in the hallways, in classes, even in your dorm since two of your best friends eventually realized they were made for each other.

You felt alone, alone like you never felt before. Your new favourite place quickly became the astronomy tower: it was quiet and reserved, no one actually went there if not for classes since it was the highest place in all hogwarts and no one had the will to go all the way up.

Anyone but you because you had a lot of free time, not having yet found your soulmate to spend some moments with. You often sang in the tower, leaning against the railing with the gentle breeze surrounding you and providing some kind of much needed comfort.

The words you sang were becoming repetitive, particular verses stuck in your head that flowed freely from your lips, coated in honey and tears as they lost themselves in the wind.

Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart and now you leave me

Love of my life, can't you see?

Only those words reverberated in your head because your soulmate's surely didn't. If you even had one. Maybe you really didn't, it wasn't as unusual as many thought. However this didn't soothe you in the slightest bit.

How heartbreaking, to know that a person that could love you so deeply, so genuinely didn't exist. For you.

Draco Malfoy felt like you, possibly even worse. He knew this person existed but he knew this person couldn't have loved him for who he was. He was so sure of it and yet he loved this person, whoever it was.

He, too, found solace in the astronomy tower, one of his ever favourite places in all hogwarts. From there, he felt insignificant but it was weirdly comforting to him, knowing that he wasn't that important, no one was in such a vast world.

He liked to sit under the light of the moon and of the starts, listening to the tunes that played in his head. He sometimes thought of repeating them himself, of singing them along with his soulmate, pretending they were together, but always stopped himself before he could.

You were beginning to lose hope, completely. You were resigning yourself to the ineluctable truth. Your heart felt at the same time heavy and light as a feather at the sudden realization, but the desolation that pervaded it never faded.

You strolled along the corridors, it was late and you could have been caught but you couldn't care less at the moment. You began singing, not caring about who might have heard you, maybe the paintings or maybe Filch, earning yourself a detention.

Slowly making your way to the beloved tower, you kept on repeating the same verses of your favourite song of the past few weeks, as if it was a prayer, a tender message you were sure no one would have ever duly appreciated.

Draco was perched on the railing of the tower, head on his arms that were crossed on the cold metal. His gaze lost in the depths of the sky, his head full of the lovely yet dejected sound that he had learned to love and despise.

You kept on making your way towards the stairs of the tower, your steps slow and steady just like your voice, and started ascending them.

Draco listened intently to the tune even though he was very much acquainted with it, the desire to feel close to the person singing it almost unbearable.

You were now halfway up the long flight of stairs and the softest of sounds became audible, a sob perhaps, you couldn't be sure, you had to get closer.

You stopped your singing, climbing the steps so carefully you unconsciously held your breath, but the voice stopped and, with it, you.

You began singing again tentatively, keeping your voice low as you kept climbing the stairs, getting closer and closer to the top. And now you heard something new, something unexpected.

A voice, low, grave and incredibly gentle filled your ears and your head. It was your tune but it was so different. The words were the same, but they sounded so much unalike. They were new just like the sensation you were currently experiencing.

You climbed, ran up the last steps, your singing stopping abruptly and the figure that was once slouched onto the railing turning around alarmed.

Silence filled the space, no words, no songs, no tunes, not even the wind was daring to make a sound, afraid to break the tension that had created.

You didn't dare say a word. What if it wasn't him? But he had to be.

Draco didn't speak, petrified under your gaze. What if it was her? But she couldn't be.

Whispers made their way out of your mouth, delicate, almost inaudible whispers in the form of music.

But Draco heard them. Not with his ears, despite the silence it would have been impossible to hear you, but in his head.

He repeated them louder, but with that gentleness that characterized the voice you had heard moments ago.

Your ears catching the sound that was already playing in your head, sweet and slightly more cheerful than it had ever been.

You could have sworn he had the voice of an angel, that kind of voice that makes you fall in love at the first syllable. His eyes were piercing right through you, showing you that love did in fact exist and that it could be found in those silvery blue orbs.

He could have sworn you were an angel, standing in front of him was the girl he had only imagined for all of this time, your eyes staring at him and burning inside of him, making him forget all of the reasons why he didn't look for you in the first place.

"It's you."

And it was indeed him.

This came out slightly longer than i expected and I'll admit I initially planned a rather angsty final, but in the end i went with the fluffy one because who am i to deny draco his true love?

Taglist <3

@turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @astoria-malfcy @dracomalfoys-wh0re @eunoniaa @cherie-draco @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise @90smalfoy @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @dracoswhore007 @macheregrace @paulina1998 @bungunz @malfoysbiitch @dreamy-clousds @malfoyxxdraco23

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#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n

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