#all the rest of the siblings i feel like have semi distinct ways of speaking

[rpvlix]

primrose— how long does it take for you to get ready for the day what does your routine usually consist of?iris— would you describe yourself as a sensitive person? why or why not? - Braso, Fous

Flower asks

Braso

"Getting ready for the day, hm? ...I suppose I can't say I do all that much. Getting plenty of sleep is important, of course. I start most days with a nap. And a bath, although truthfully they tend to be one and the same. But... that is about it, once I am up, I simply go about my day." There are other routines he neglects to mention, though they are a little more irregular and spontaneous than his bath and nap routine. He does need to eat, and does so much more often than any of his siblings. Exercise takes up much of his free time between tending to his gardens. But these are all things he tends to trust his whims for.

"As for my... sensitivity... I cannot say that I am, not physically, at least. My skin is very thick, you see, often it takes a good bit of stimulation. But, that comes in very handy when combat gets a bit too close for comfort. I've been penetrated by many foreign objects in my day, and felt hardly any of them." There's just enough of a smirk on his face that he must be aware of the other meaning to his words.

"Ah-" right, that was only half of his explanation. "As for other types of sensitivity, emotionally... I would like to think so. I do try my best to be aware of how other beings are getting on, and try to be compassionate. Having the connection that I have with the world around me, hm... How to word it... My role is one that often comes with many feelings. But I've learned well how to handle those." He chuckles. It is funny. It is funny how incorrect he is. If only he knew.

Fous

"What is there to get ready for?" Here we go. "Every day is the same as the last. There is nothing for me outside of this room. The time passes as slow or as fast as it likes, and it changes nothing. If I sleep, if I wake, not the hour nor the minute plays any part in that. Not even a window for me to watch as the days come and go. And I wouldn't want one, what could be more miserable than that? A little portal to view the lives of all those with destinies. With fates yet to play out. A reminder of my own mortality, the futility of everything I do, everything I've done. It all fell apart long ago. There is nothing left. There is no need to get ready."

A man who is thankful he has not seen the light of day in years because he knows that it would only upset him further. A man sent deeper into his depressive spiraling due to a simple question about his routines (of which he has none, unless you count 'sobbing incoherently on his bedroom floor', which he is sure to do at least once per day). It would be an understatement to label Fouskotos as sensitive. What he once had in physical strength, he never even approached having that level of emotional strength. Even before Aton sent him into the state he's in today, he'd always been a bit volatile. Quite quick to every emotion, with the exception of joy. It's always been a difficult one to come by.

[nym-wibbly]

I just skipped back to the start of Supernatural season five (from fourteen) to refresh my memory about how Nick/Lucifer's arc began. Accidentally landed on the scene in the hospital where Castiel, having picked his side at the end of S4, complains that he "killed two angels this week". Oh, bby.

The show's never delved deeply into that aspect of Castiel's storyline. He's feared and loathed by other angels but we've seen little of how he feels about that. Few characters can get a rise out of him under any provocation, so we just get occasional glimpses of his fear and anger when one of the Winchesters goes recklessly suicidal and makes Cas afraid his sacrifices are in vain and his faith misplaced. He needs to feel that it's been worth it and panics when that gets hard. He's killed so many of his own kind, both in combat and when he went nuclear at the start of S7. He's been significantly responsible for the genocide and near extinction of the angels, both through personal kills and through his epic hubris in seasons 6, 7, and 9.

He feels the guilt and shame, he undergoes atonement, and he learns to do and be better - but he keeps on killing angels when he needs to. All that slaughter, yet I truly believed him when he told Nick that it's the personal, human tragedy of Jimmy Novak and family - the unintended consequence of his ignorance and blind faith, his angelic innocence - that, metaphorically speaking, keeps Cas awake at night. That was just raw for him and Nick touched a nerve, while the fate of Heaven, in which he's taken a conscious part, is a dull burden that Cas carries and owns without outward displays of overwhelming emotion.

It ought to come over as a terrible, terrifying zealotry on Castiel's part - the kind that tips the balance from hero to antihero/villain, and the kind of cold absolutism he consciously walked away from at the end of S4 when Dean challenged him to choose between right and wrong instead of relying on blind faith, but it doesn't read that way. His self-doubt is infinitely more dangerous to bystanders - to his friends - than his righteous certainty.

When he succumbs to a dangerous anger in his private trauma, he has the insight to isolate himself, and when that fails, he has the self-awareness to stop short of beating the helpless Metatron to death because he can still draw a clear distinction between an enemy and a threat. He knows how dangerous he is and warns people when it's viable to do so. He does everything in his power to see that he's safely restrained when Rowena's slavering-killer spell overtakes him, when he knows the choice is going to be taken out of his hands. The rest of the time his self-control is epic. Even the tired, kind and caring dad!Cas of season 13/14 is first and foremost a soldier making a soldier's choices with a soldier's strategy, a defender rather than an aggressor. Somehow, even with the shocking death toll he's racked up, he's a protector figure, not something out of a nightmare. Just like the Winchesters.

It's like he's helpless to prevent his part in harming Heaven, even as he's the one stabbing and exploding his siblings all over the place. Mind you, the other angels never learn. They keep coming at him with pointy things and/or threatening the Winchesters, and when they do occasionally manage to take him off the board, Chuck puts him right back. As of S14, even Naomi seems to have grasped that making Castiel choose between his own kind and his adopted family isn't a survival strategy. I'm not optimistic that any of the angels (bar semi-angelic Jack, I guess) will be left standing by the series finale. The shape of the story seems to demand that they move over to make way for a better tomorrow - along with God. But if God's the one writing the story, it's unlikely to be that simple!

Poor (killy stabby fallen fratricidal) Castiel.

[isabellitah]

🤍 HARGREEVES x SIBLING

Title : ...well then

Pairing : none but this focuses on your relationship with Ben 🤍

Warning : curse words and verbally abusive Reginald

they’re all young here- like, around the age wherein they stopped that bank robbery

no one knows why but their father suddenly started berating all of them for anything and everything under the sun

“Number One, how incompentent must you be to be unable to lead the Umbrella Academy?!”

“Number Two, are knives all you know- can you not speak properly?!”

“Number Three, your power is extraordinary yet incredibly useless as it seems you don’t know when to use them!”

“Number Four, stop being a coward and use your power for what it was meant to be!”

“Number Five, you are not ready to jump to the future. You do not understand the depth of time travelling!”

“Number Eight, if you can’t make something as simple as a water tornado on the pond, how do you expect to be good enough to stand with the others?!”

The worst one off was Ben...

“Number Six, stop looking down! Look straight ahead, have I instilled no manners in you?!”

“Use your powers, Number Six!”

“Stop being afraid of your powers. That fear is all in your head!”

“Don’t be so pathetic!”

And the insults went on and on and on. Every single one of the siblings (minus Vanya who was practicing the violin in her room) wanted to stand up for their brother but was too scared of their father.

They can all see Number Si- no, Ben retreating deeper and deeper into his insecurities and fears the more Reginald listed them out for the entire yard to hear.

Let’s make something clear here, no one’s seen Number Eight mad. Sure she threw a tantrum here and there but those were minor and easily fixed with candy. But the moment Reginald opened his mouth, “Were your siblings in danger and you’re their last hope, they’re as good as dead, Number Six!” and Ben’s whimper and choked sob echoed throughout the silent yard, Eightie spoke up, “Can I say a bad word?”

The sibling closest to her, Ben, was thrown off to say the least. Rubbing his slightly teary eyes with the back of his hand he asked, “I- uh... what?” His eyes darted between his youngest sister and their father. ‘What is she up to?’

“cAn I SAY A BAD WORD?!” your sudden increase in volume startled everyone including Reginald, who immediately regained his composure, but too late, Five saw him. Startled, Ben replied, “uhmm... oka-”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!”

Although they were all born at the exact same time, Number Eight was sheltered compared to the rest of the siblings for the sole reason that her siblings did their best to protect her from their father’s wrath. What they never considered was protecting their father from their sister’s wrath.

Klaus’ eyes widened and he felt a twitch at the corner of his mouth until a grin formed as he watched you torpedo pond water towards your father right at his abdomen. Said father was yelling something but couldn’t be heard as your torpedo blasted him some houses away until you all heard a distinct plop! and splash! carry out.

Luther was torn between helping their father and berating you.

Diego was smiling like a loon.

Allison looked shocked yet you can see the amusement in her eyes.

Five was smiling happily.

And Ben was hugging you while you were shocked because you have never ever before made something so big and powerful. And to think, your first successful water torpedo was tested on your father himself! Ha!

Klaus found himself very happy to be sober- at least he got to remember the day Reginald Hargreeves got dunked into a pool by a girl nearly half his size. Ah yes, if being sober was rewarded this handsomely, he’d be fine with being sober.

“... Well then.”

Everyone’s faces dropped. They forgot Pogo was there with them. Pogo seeing their tensed forms, shook his head and started the journey inside. Without looking back, he called for them, “I’d hurry inside before he comes back. Master Hargreeves probably won’t show himself for the remainder of the day. However, be prepared for harder training tomorrow. Especially you, Number Eight. Now that he knows what you’re capable of, he will exploit it.” and with that said, Pogo shut the door behind him.

All was silent until, “Best day ever. Thank you for that, Eightie. Never knew you were a spitfire.”

Confused on if you should take that as a compliment or insult, you turn to look at Klaus while still in Ben’s arms, “uhh, thank you?” You flashed him a smile that reminded him of sunshine and the feeling of being high- light.

You were in Ben’s room on his bed just cuddling into his side as he read a book. You were content just being glued to his side and hearing his calm heartbeat in the silence of the room.

“Thank you... for standing up for me,”

“You would’ve done it for me.”

Placing his book down, his thumb in between the pages to mark where he last stopped reading, he turned his head to you, “How are you so sure, Tee?”

“Because I trust you,”

Ben was shocked to say the least. You had that much trust in him? He knew you loved all your siblings. You say so everyday. They, including him, love you too. But to think you trust him that much?

Noticing his silence you continued, “and because we love one another. But if ever none of you are there to defend or protect me, that’s okay too. I’ll protect all of us to the best of my abilities. Y’know why, Ben?”

“...why, Tee?”

“Because we’re family.”

One of Ben’s worst insecurities popped up, “But... we’re not.”

You tilted your face upwards to look at him, confused, “What do you mean?” He looked away with a sad look in his eyes, “We’re not family... we’re all adopted by a billionaire because our mothers were bribed with money.”

You frowned for a while before looking back towards his door, gaining your initial position, “Family by bond is stronger than that of blood, Ben... And I don’t care what anyone says. You’re my family and I love you, okay? I’ll always be here for you, even when I’m not around, okay?”

Ben smiled softly at the ceiling of his room, tears slowly gathering in his eyes. Tears of happiness. Of relief. To hear it being said out loud and by someone else brought him such relief and it made him feel light. Like the weight of the world left him.

“Yeah, okay... I love you too, Eightie.”

You looked at him with an amused smirk, one all of your siblings seem to have, “I know.” and quickly looked at a random part of his room.

Ben smirked, placed his book on top of his bedside drawer, placed an arm behind his head, and stroked a hand through your hair.

And just like that, Ben’s insecurities slowly eased with your words and actions. While you, well you just discovered the strength of your power. And you’re currently having a nice nap.

Outside Ben’s door was Allison listening in with a smile, Diego with a disgusted look, and Luther with a contemplating look. Five was leaning against the wall looking at the three while Vanya was, again, with mom. And Klaus was... somewhere.

“Awww that was so-”

“D-disgusting.”

“Oh shut up, Diego-”

“N-no you sh-shut up-p, Nu-number O-”

“Don’t you dare call me Number One!”

“Wha-whatchu g-gonna do a-about it, huh?

“We-”

“Nu-number One. Number-er O-one. Numbe-”

“Shu-”

“Will you two quit it?! If Tee wakes up because of your incessant banter, I will drop you both in the middle of nowhere.”

Although intimidated, both brothers snorted at Five, “C-can you e-even carry Luther-er?”

“Yeah- hey!”

“What? I-it’s true.”

“Well-”

And just like that, Five jumped with the two leaving Allison outside Ben’s door, bewildered.

“Hey!”

“F-Five! Y-you can’t j-just leave us h-here!”

With a sarcastic smile, “watch me.” he left his two eldest brothers on the sidewalk a few houses away from their own.

Sighing, they both started the journey to their house. They should’ve known he’d go through with his threat- this wasn’t the first time he’s done this.

“Wait a minute,”

“W-what?”

“What’s incessant?”

“I don’t know?”

“Five mentioned our bantering was incessant, what does that mean?”

“In-interesting?”

“Hmm... Nah, doesn’t sound right.”

And so, on the way home, both brothers filled the silence between them by trying to guess the meaning of the word incessant.

Hearing a semi-soft argument happening near you caused you to wake up a tad disorientated. However, you didn’t move from your position as you were quite comfortable cuddling with Ben while his hand stroked your hair. Listening into the conversation, you deduced that Klaus was in the room wanting to join in the cuddling.

“Klaus, no.”

“But, Benny!”

“No 🤍”

“Oh come on-”

“No, Klaus, you cannot sleep on my b-”

“It’s fine, Be-”

“YAY” without hearing you finish your sentence, Klaus hopped onto the space behind you, right by the wall- squishing you between Ben and himself. He immediately turned to his side, wrapped his arms around your waist and shoved his face to the back of your neck.

“Oof” you were shocked by the speed of his actions but giggled nonetheless.

Ben, on the other hand, was no impressed, “Why, Eightie.” He asked exasperated.

“You love me, Benny.”

“In your dreams.”

“Oh believe me, you do not want to be in my dreams.”

“Nasty, Klausy.”

“Ew, dude. That’s- ugh- tmi”

“You suggeste-”

Not wanting to hear an argument between them, you cut Klaus’ sentence off, “Night Klausy. Night Ben,”

“Night Eightie,”

“Night Tee.”

“Love you guys,” with that mumbled, you felt yourself drift off to sleep with a smile. But not before hearing them mumble it back to you.

You didn’t see it, but just hearing you tell them that you love them brought a sincere smile to their faces, and a light warm feeling to their hearts.

Plop

Plop

Plop

Reginald Hargreeves was not having a good day.

First, Number Seven’s powers continued to become stronger even while in isolation and this proved to be troublesome. Then the rest of the little brats didn’t show competency during today’s training. And now- now he was soaking wet walking towards his own house. People were looking at him- the eccentric billionaire walking home soaking wet- how humiliating.

Ah yes, Reginald Hargreeves was definitely not having a good day at all.

[probably-writing-x]

Live Capture.

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by anon: would you be able to do an Aron Piper imagine where his girlfriend is a YouTuber but she’s very shy to show him on her channel as a way of protection even though he’s used to the public & then they go out in public & a fan starts to record them...you can take it on from there :) hope you’re staying safe xx

Gif is not my own

Requests are open 🤍

“On your left, on your left!” You call through your microphone, “Yes, downed him, another team coming up behind us.”

Your friend speaks through your headset and updates you on his own progress as both of you were midway through a game on Warzone. You took a moment to glance at the chat on your livestream to YouTube and smiled at a few of the messages before turning back to focus on the game.

“Alright we’ve got enough for a loadout,” You comment, “Cover me.”

He follows your advice and does exactly that, only moments before you’re shot at from another direction and both of you are killed.

“Shit man,” You groan, “I really wasn’t on it that game.”

“Still top ten though,” Your friend points out, “Alright, Imma head off for the night. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

You say your goodbyes and turn back to your chat, reading a few of the comments you’d missed, “I think I’m going to turn in for the night too, thank you guys so much for watching this livestream. And I’ll be uploading a video tomorrow at 6pm so keep your eyes peeled for that one. Good night guys!”

You turn off your stream and shut down everything on your PC, the true sign that you’d be turning in for the night. You grab the empty plate from where your dinner had been and the empty drinks from over the course of the hours that you’d been on stream.

“Hey honey, any luck?” Arón asks from the couch, where he lay with his arm tucked under his head, turned to watch the TV screen.

“We got a couple of wins,” You nod, “Nothing great. I didn’t know you’d still be up.”

“And go to bed without you? Would I ever?” He laughs, “C’mhere.”

You yawn and walk over until you’re close enough that he can reach out and pull you down to lay with him, letting you rest on top of his chest, “What are you watching?”

“One of your videos,” He chuckles, “There was nothing on TV and I didn’t want to watch any of that series without you, so I’m watching your channel.”

“Why?” You smile, looking at which video he’d chosen.

“This is from that day we went to the beach and you were teaching me how to surf. I dont know how you managed to keep me out of the whole video!” He exclaims, “Genuinely there’s not even a glimpse of me.”

“Because I spent about four hours rewatching it and re-editing it to make sure. I’m very secretive when I need to be,” You remind him, leaning up to kiss at his jaw, “They all still ask questions.”

He hums in response, “Do you want to go to bed darling?”

Your eyes are already fluttering shut as he asks the question and he somehow has to figure out how to get you from the couch to your bed without disturbing you too much. It was a regular occurrence after you streamed late at night, and he’d grown to be very good at taking care of you after you’d drained yourself after a long day.

You’d been dating for a little under a year now but it felt like you’d loved him for a lifetime. He’d quickly become everything you could ask for in a boyfriend and the two of you somehow became the perfect match for each other. With him as an actor, and you as a YouTuber, both of you lived very unconventional lives at times - but that’s what made it work so well. You’d kept your relationship away from the public for this entire time, not wanting to risk it ending up like the majority of YouTube relationships nowadays. You liked the fact that your relationship still felt like your own, and you didn’t have to fear the audience response to seeing you with a boyfriend. They’d never seen that side of your life, and truth be told, you were fearful of showing them. For now, it felt so much more comfortable to keep Arón separate. Like it still meant you had him all to yourself.

- - - - - -

The next day, after waking up a little too late, you make sure to post your video on time and read through the comments as soon as it reaches your audience. It had been a fitness challenge that you’d had to ask Arón to help you film when you were at the gym. He’d spent half the time zooming into your face far too close or stopping filming because you’d made him laugh and you could hear him on the recording. Somehow, you’d still managed to avoid showing him in the footage and made sure that he couldn’t be heard too much through the microphone.

“What do you fancy for dinner, darling?” Arón asks as he steps into your filming room and sees you sat at your desk in your gaming chair.

“I’m just reading through the response to the video,” You explain as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, you run your hands along his arms as they encase you.

“Are they all talking about my brilliant filming skills?” He grins, kissing your cheek.

You point out one comment that questions in all capital letters ‘who does she have filming this? Y’all seriously can’t tell me she’s still single!!!!!’

Arón laughs and clicks to read the responses to the comment, pausing on one that is a timestamp from the video. A specific second in the footage that you find yourself skipping to on the video timeline to find exactly what one of your fans was talking about. Quite rightly so, at that exact second, you can just about make out Arón in the reflection of one of the mirrors in the gym. His face isn’t visible but his distinctive curls are obvious enough.

“Shit, do you think they know it’s you?” You ask, sitting more upright in your chair as you look through the rest of the comments about that exact moment.

Some people were suggesting different names, different people that could take the face of that curly hair - but only a few had actually suggested Arón. Someone mentioned the fact that you’d been at the Élite premiere and pointed out that you could’ve been going as his date rather than just a guest at the event - that was, in fact, the truth. Someone else mentioned how Omar followed you on Instagram - the initial way you’d met Arón.

“Oh come on, look, they’re saying loads of names,” He points out, “Theyre all just guessing, my name was bound to be in there at some point.”

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea that they’d be able to see y-“

“Hey,” Arón turns your chair around so you’re facing him, “It’s fine, honestly. I don’t care, okay?”

“Are you sure?” You sigh, smiling as he cups your face in his hands.

“Positive,” He nods, leaning in and kissing you, “I say we just order in for dinner.”

You laugh and let him pull you up to stand, “Good idea.”

- - - - - -

The following day, you and Arón are on your way to your parents place for your father’s birthday. You manage to get up at a semi-acceptable time and keep yourself away from social media to avoid all of the questions about your mystery boyfriend. You step into the taxi and try to keep yourself relaxed.

“Hey! I know you!” The taxi driver speaks up, glancing in the mirror at Arón, “You’re on Netflix. My daughter watches your show all the time!”

“Thanks man, that means a lot,” Arón smiles politely, glancing at you for a second.

The man rambles on a little more about the show and how much he’d learnt about it from his daughter, laughing at how jealous she’d be that he’d met Arón.

“And is this your girlfriend?” The taxi driver asks, glancing at you in the mirror too.

“No, just a friend,” Arón nods, forcing a little smile in your direction, “So, have you been busy today?”

You’re relieved that he steers the topic away from you and tries to keep some level of awkward small talk with the driver as you eventually pull up in town.

“You can just drop us here, buddy, thank you,” Arón comments, getting out of the car and waiting for you.

“That’s a sign! That’s a sign, people know about us,” You state simply as you step out of the car, “I’m certain.”

“(Y/n)!” Arón laughs, “It’s fine! We have no certainty that people know we’re together, and we’ll let it stay that way. Stop worrying honey, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

You sigh and try to relax under the influence of his words.

“You’re cute when you get stressed,” He chuckles, reaching for your hand and squeezing it, “Really cute.”

You cock a brow, “You know, maybe I should tell everyone about us - feed you to the lions type of attitude.”

Arón laughs, “They’ll fucking love me!”

He cups your jaw with his free hand and dips his head to press a kiss to your waiting lips. It’s soft and it gives the sincerity to his words that his tone hadn’t done. You were so worried about everyone finding out about you, mainly because you were terrified of it ruining a time in your life where you were happier than you’d ever been. It was silly but you liked the idea of preventing your relationship from being strained by the public view. For now, it felt so much easier to keep this between you. When it had first started, you wanted to keep things private until you knew that this was something real and something you were sure of. But when you’d started to feel that way, it felt even more important to keep that private - knowing that you cared too much about Arón to jeopardise anything.

“Come on, lets go grab some food,” He encourages, locking his hand with yours before swinging an arm over your shoulder so that your interlocked hands rested just over your heart, “What are the odds that the taxi driver was actually a fan? I bet he doesn’t even have a daughter!” Arón jokes and yet again manages to say exactly what you needed to hear to ease your stress.

- - - - - -

A little later, as you’re sat at your parents house with your parents and your siblings, Arón comes walking through from the kitchen with your nephew in his arms.

“There she is!” He grins when he sees you, letting your nephew run over until he jumps into your arms.

“Where have you two been?” You laugh, looking at his disheveled Arón appeared.

“We’ve been on the trampoline,” Arón groans, flopping down beside you, “I think I’m too old for that now.”

“You think?” You smirk, “You’re a mess!”

He grabs your phone from the side and checks his appearance in the black screen. Your nephew giggles and reaches over to grab at his messy curls. Arón smiles and goes to tickle him, only glancing away when he sees your phone ping in his hand.

“Jeez, you’re popular today,” He comments, showing you the endless list of notifications on your phone.

“Probably just the boys asking about playing later, can you open it for me?” You ask, shifting your nephew so he was now stood on your thighs facing you as you make silly faces at him to keep him occupied.

“Oh shit...” Arón mumbles.

“Arón!” You hiss, making wide eyes in the direction of your nephew.

“Sorry, babe, but you need to see this,” You set your nephew down and he runs off to his own mother before you take your phone from Arón.

His reaction now seemed completely justified. In a group chat with a bunch of your friends from YouTube, you’re being bombarded with messages. Some of them are accompanied by photos but the majority are accompanied by laughing emojis. Quite rightly so as the photos show clear shots of you and Arón from earlier. The images had clearly been taken from across the street when you’d first got out of the taxi. One of you laughing at something he’d said, one of you kissing, another of you kissing, and a few of you walking away with his arm around you.

“Who took those?!” You exclaim, “I didn’t even see anybody... or hear anybody...”

“Hey, hey, look,” Arón nudges you, handing you his own phone that showed all of his mentions on Instagram.

You’d already been tagged in a flurry of posts about the situation - 100% of them being purely positive and excited for both of you. People saying how perfect you were for each other. Some pointing out moments from your streams and from YouTube where it was obvious you were talking to someone behind the camera - who they now understood to be Arón.

“They’re all so excited,” You half-laugh, “Look, theres even a fucking video of us!”

You show him a video a fan had taken of you two together that’s accompanied by the caption - ‘I wanted to speak to them but they’re just so fricking cute I didn’t want to disturb them!!!’

You smile at all of the supportive messages from your fans, commenting on how happy they were for you, though some were jealous of you being Arón’s girlfriend.

“Well, looks like that turned out better than we expected,” Arón comments, “Should we say anything?”

You look at him and grin, flicking your Instagram camera on as you pose for the photo. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and rests his head against yours as you both smile at the screen.

You type out a quick caption ‘You got us...’ and post it to your story. Though you lock your phone before you can become too bombarded by replies to the image.

“Shit, does this mean I can play Warzone with you now?!”

“You’re still terrible, maybe when you get a bit better,” You laugh, kissing him quickly.

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong?- Part 6 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

i am so sorry that this took so long to update!! i was going thru a period of low motivation, and had absolutely no inspiration to write. this is the second to last part of the series (not including the epilogue)!! thank you to everyone who has supported this fic throughout the past few months!!! i love each and every one of you nasty thots with my whole heart 💕

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships, fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, teen angst, cunnilingus, dirty talk, degradation, anal fingering, anal sex, semi-public sex, sexual intercourse, praise kink (kind of?), cum play 

word count: 7.5k 

tags: @alicecooper19 @ritualmichael @blackfyrez @bbyduncan @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @michaelsapostle @trelaney @kissydevil @langdonalien @langdonsdemon @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @wroteclassicaly @langdonsinferno @ccodyfern @cocosfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @americanhorrorstudies @sodanova @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @lxngdonscoven @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @hisgirlwonder @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @lvngdvns @telexnesis @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @coastalmason @anacerta @punkysouls @nuke-em-from-orbit @codyswhore @thingsthatoncemeantnothing @beriyeri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @imjustasadhoe @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @michaelsfrenchtoast 

(sorry to anyone who asked to be tagged but isn’t in my tag list!! tumblr won’t let me tag certain blogs for some reason!!) 

i.

Michael’s bedroom had become, to you, a world all of its own. Whenever you were there, lying amidst the plaid-printed comforter and inhaling the distinct scent of Michael that clung to his pillowcase, you’d feel as though the outside world had, for the time being, ceased to exist altogether.

You were certain you spent more time in Michael’s room than your own nowadays; there was just something so comforting about his room, even despite the cringe-worthy posters of half-naked girls that never failed to make you roll your eyes. There was something comforting about Michael.

Most nights you’d hang out there, even when Michael scoffed at your presence, insisting that he was busy (but smiling with a knowing look in his eyes all the same). Sometimes you’d watch him play his computer games, other times you’d lie with your head on his chest and watch South Park reruns (god, was Michael immature, you’d come to realize, after witnessing him laugh at one too many dick jokes), and oftentimes you’d do nothing but have constant, urgent sex.

Urgent- recently things had seemed that way, like not a single second in one another’s company could be put to waste. As the weather grew warmer and the months passed by at a startlingly rapid pace, it became increasingly apparent that there wasn’t much time left.

Both of you had finished sending in your college applications, and soon enough, you’d both be graduating high school- a thought that filled you with dread.

You’d grown so fond of having Michael at an arm’s length at all times, being able to creep into his room whenever you felt particularly bored or or lonely or horny. What would you do once you were away at college? Thinking about living Michael-less again filled you with thousands of emotions, all pooled up in the pit of your belly, that you intended to ignore and deal with later.

This couldn’t keep on, you knew. It was inevitable that things would eventually have to end between the two of you. But when?

You found yourself lost in thought as you laid next to Michael one night; he wore only his boxers, one arm lifted so he could scroll through his phone while he idly wrapped the other around you. Lifting your head slightly, you looked at his flawless profile, a sound of vague discontent coming up from the back of your throat as you debated saying something.

He turned to you, quirking an eyebrow and setting his phone down on his chest. “What?”

“I dunno,” you said. You turned onto your side so you were pressed closer up against his warm body, splaying your palm flat on his soft tummy. He smelled good, you noticed, gratefully inhaling the boyish, woodsy scent of his deodorant as you nuzzled your nose against his skin. “I was just thinking.”

“About?” He was tracing a pattern on your back with his fingertips, something you were sure he was doing absentmindedly.

“Graduation,” you said. This, of course, wasn’t the full truth, but you weren’t about to make yourself seem unnecessarily needy by mentioning that you were also thinking about the fact that in a matter of months, you and Michael could no longer continue…whatever the hell this was.

You doubted Michael had even thought about it. In fact, you doubted he even cared. Once he got to college, he’d have a fresh slew of girls eager to jump on his dick, and he would probably forget all about you.

“I can’t fucking wait,” he said, and you frowned, lifting your head so you could meet his gaze. “The graduation parties are gonna be fucking insane. I’ll have to teach you how to play beer pong before so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

“Aren’t you, like, scared to graduate?” Aren’t you scared of losing me? is what you really wanted to ask, but of course you held your tongue.

He squinted his eyes like you’d just said the most incomprehensible thing he’d ever heard. “Fuck no. I’ve been done with high school since freshman year. Plus, college is gonna be fucking lit.”

You rolled your eyes at his usage of the word lit, heart sinking ever-so-slightly at his nonchalance. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be really lit, having a new set of groupies lined up at your disposal.”

His expression shifted, a cocky smirk crossing his plump lips at the obvious bitterness behind your words. Fuck. You definitely shouldn’t have said that. “Aw, is someone jealous?”

“No,” you said defensively, cheeks burning up as Michael’s lips continued to curl upwards at the corners, hooded eyes flashing mischievously.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice suddenly dropping several octaves, craning his neck so that he could speak into your ear. “Your pussy will always be my favorite.”

Your eyelids flickered at the unexpected vulgarity of his words, and it took everything inside you not to bite your lip. You couldn’t keep doing this with him- you had to talk about this, like mature soon-to-be adults, instead of having sex in an attempt to avoid the topic.

“But— Michael,” you said, tone pitched almost to the point of whining. “Don’t you ever think about what’s gonna happen between us once we leave for college?”

Aaand— there it was. Fuck it. If you sounded needy, so be it.

His grin faltered for a moment, an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his face for a mere fragment of a second. Then he shifted, returning to his previous demeanor and promptly rolling on top of you. “Let’s just have fun, baby. We don’t have to think about that yet.”

His lips grazed your neck, and he began trailing kisses from your jugular over to the front of your throat, and then to your jaw. Your breath hitched, stomach dipping as you were instantly overcome with arousal- it was just that easy, apparently.

“Michael,” you breathed, squirming beneath the weight of his lean frame. “Michael, can we please talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” he said coolly. He moved his head down so that he was planting kisses down the valley between your breasts, which was covered by the oversize sleep shirt you wore (which you’d “borrowed” from Michael). “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

He continued moving down until he was resting between your parted thighs, wasting no time before working your lace panties down your legs and discarding them off the side of the bed. He spread your legs, hoisting one up to rest over his toned shoulder as he eyed your bare, wet cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Mine,” he mumbled, placing an open-mouthed kiss to your soft inner thigh. His.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be better if you didn’t think about it, didn’t take things so seriously.

Or maybe you’d simply fallen under his spell for the umpteenth time, seduced by his sweet talking and expert touch and sparkling blue eyes. This prospect seemed far more likely.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, baby. Just relax…” His soft blond waves grazed against your inner thighs and you shivered, rolling your hips forward impatiently and eliciting a low chuckle from his full, parted lips. “So needy. Does my baby sis want me to make her cum all over my tongue? Hm?”

Without thinking, you took a handful of his silky hair in one hand, pushing your pelvis up towards him until you could feel his mouth against your core. Much to your disappointment, however, he pulled back, looking up at you from between your legs with glinting eyes.

“Say it,” he said, tone velvety and seductive as his large, veined hands slid underneath your shirt to grope your tits. “Tell your big brother what you want him to do to you.”

On one hand, you wanted to smack him- could he stop with all that step-sibling talk already? God, it just made things so weird.

…But on the other hand…

“Want you to make me cum, Mikey…” You batted your eyes down at him, making sure to speak with as much syrupy sweetness as you could manage; you saw his jaw just barely clench at your words, and inwardly you smiled. “Please. Wanna feel your mouth all over me.”

“My bad girl,” he cooed, dragging his tongue up between your folds and circling the pointed edge around your clit. “So glad I was the first one to claim this perfect little cunt.”

He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it into his hot mouth and pressing his tongue harshly against it; you sighed, tugging at his hair as your head fell back into the pillows, his hands roughly kneading your tits until they stung.

“That feel good, baby?” he breathed, although the question was entirely unnecessary- if anyone gave good head, it was Michael Langdon, and he knew it.

He pulled one hand from underneath your shirt so he could form circles over your clit with his thumb, his tongue moving to lap at your opening before easing inside.

“Fuck, Michael,” you sighed, twisting your fist perhaps a bit too hard, because he drew his head back from your aching heat to shoot you a glare.

“Can you not rip my hair out of my head, please?” he said irritably, his mouth and chin glistening with your arousal.

“Not like you haven’t done it to me a million times,” you mumbled.

“What was that?” he asked gruffly, yanking you closer to him by your thigh, which was still draped over his shoulder. “You wanna be a bitch? ‘Cause I can treat you like a bitch if that’s what you want.”

You lifted your head to give him a pointed look through narrowed eyes. “Just shut up and eat my pussy, dumbass.”

“Not with that attitude,” he said, crawling up your body and wrapping his fingers loosely around your throat. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, pale eyes boring into yours, but you could tell he was trying his hardest not to laugh. “I thought you wanted to be a good girl?”

You smirked, suddenly having found yourself in a bratty mood. “Nah, not today.”

Apparently you were looking to get destroyed. You saw something shift in Michael’s features, licking his lips hungrily as he slowly looked you up and down.

“Okay, if that’s how you wanna play.” In an instant, he had you flipped over so you were lying flat on your stomach, your insides buzzing with anticipation over what was to come; he slowly trailed his fingertips down from the base of your neck and along the expanse of your spine, stopping when he reached the small of your back. There was a brief stall in his motions, and then a loud crack as he landed a firm slap on your ass.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to try,” he said, taking his other hand to spread your ass cheeks before him. “Since you wanna be a bad girl tonight, I think you’ll like it.”

You wiggled nervously, bringing your arms under your chin as Michael leaned over off the side of his bed to grab something from his bedside table drawer. As much as you were apprehensive to find out what he was planning, you trusted Michael- you usually liked anything he introduced you to.

You heard shuffling behind you as Michael presumably undressed himself, immediately followed by a squirting sound— lube.

Oh fuck.

“Only good girls get it in their pussy,” Michael said, a slick-sounding noise coming from behind you as Michael pumped the lube up and down his cock. “Bad girls? They get it in the ass.”

“M-Michael-“ you started, voice trailing off when he began rubbing a cool substance against the opening of your ass, massaging the puckered skin with steady circles before dipping the tip of his finger inside. “Fuck!”

He sank his finger deeper, the lube assisting in this action; it still hurt, though, your tight, untouched hole being stretched for the first time- and he expected you to take his dick!?

As much as the idea frightened you, you couldn’t deny that there was something exciting about Michael claiming all of you, every last part.

“Just relax, baby,” he murmured, pumping his finger in and out of you until he felt you were sufficiently stretched out. He added a second finger, a low groan passing your lips as he quickened his pace, the intrusion encompassing you with a combination of pleasure and discomfort. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you retorted, trying to catch your breath. “It’s my asshole, idiot.”

“I was trying to talk dirty,” he snapped, thrusting his fingers in you deeper and brushing against something that made you see stars.

“How about just focus on doing what you’re doing instead of talking so much,” you said, arching your back to give him better access to you. Of course he’d been right about you liking this, you thought almost bitterly- he always knew what you were going to like.

“You really wanna be a brat tonight, huh?” he said, scissoring his fingers apart inside you to stretch your narrow walls even further. You gasped, head falling to the mattress as a jolt of pain shot throughout your body. “Must not want me to go easy on you.”

You said nothing (not that you’d be able to speak if you wanted to, seeing that your breath was caught in your throat). He continued fucking you with his fingers until he could slide them in and out with ease, pulling them out and aligning the head of his cock with your entrance instead.

“Such a little slut for me,” he said, shifting his weight so he was kneeling between your legs. He lifted you up at the hips, just barely pressing his cock into your now-stretched hole. “Now all your holes are mine.”

“How do you know I didn’t let my ex fuck me in the ass?” you teased, moving your hips from side to side as he began pushing himself deeper.

A hand landed on the back of your neck, pushing you down so your face was buried in the pillow; seconds later, your ass was met with a sharp smack.

“Yeah, right. Like you’d let anyone besides me be the first,” he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “…You wouldn’t, right?”

You stifled a laugh- you were sure there was nothing Michael feared more than finding out you’d given away your anal virginity to someone else- and a “circle jerking jock”, no less. You supposed that maybe it wasn’t the wisest choice to intentionally piss Michael off right as he was about to fuck you in the ass, but you were having too much fun to stop.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, the pads of Michael’s fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “I mean, he fucked me better than you anyway.”

The last part was a blatant lie meant to rile Michael up, and you knew Michael knew it; still, he brought one hand from your hips to the back of your head, wrapping a strand of your hair around his palm and forcefully pulling it back.

“Really? He fucked you better I do?” In one sharp forward motion, he entered you almost fully, earning him a weak cry from your parted mouth. “Made you cum better than I do?”-he paused to scoff- “I bet he couldn’t even make you cum.”

Goddamn it. There was another thing Michael was right about, not that you were about to let him know that.

“He didn’t know about that spot inside you that makes you cum so hard you cry, or how to tease you until you’re all needy and desperate, begging to be filled up like the whore you are,” he continued, and you could practically hear the cocky grin on his face as he spoke, his hips still as he waited for you to adjust to the feeling of a dick being in your ass. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You kept silent, knowing better than to challenge him again.

He laughed, your lower body trembling in arousal and agony as he gingerly slid inside the rest of the way. “Of course I’m right. So keep your mouth shut unless it’s to take my cock.”

With that, he began fucking you- hard and steady, his hips rocking back ever-so-slightly before jutting forward again, the sensation so intense that your eyes rolled back into your skull. Taking fistfuls of Michael’s sheets in each hand, you let out a raspy whine, tears darkening the pillowcase under your head with large wet spots.

“Fuck, you really are a bad girl, aren’t you?” he snickered, upon hearing your soft moans that had been muffled by his pillows.

You nodded mindlessly, pushing your hips back weakly with every thrust Michael administered, vision going blurry at the corners each time he seated himself all the way inside you. You’d never felt anything like it before- you were so full that it felt you might fall apart at any moment, completely at Michael’s mercy.

“You like that? Like it when I stretch you out?” he grunted, and you could tell that he was already close, your tight hole clenching with every burst of pain he inflicted with his cock. Leaning forward, he hooked one toned arm around your thigh so he could mercilessly rub your clit, hissing lowly as he pounded inside you fully again.

You groaned, gritting your teeth as he formed fast shapes over your sensitive bud, white spots forming in front of your eyes as he gradually increased his speed.

Fuck, it hurt, but both you and Michael knew by now that you liked pain, liked the way it matched together so perfectly with pleasure.

“You doing okay, baby?” Michael whispered as he pushed a few moist strands of hair away from your face, his sweat-covered chest pressing firmly against your back.

A gravelly “m’fine,” was all you could manage.

“Good girl,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear before he brought himself back to a standing position, fingers still working at your clit. “Taking me so well, like always.”

You found yourself smiling weakly at his praise, cheek flush against Michael’s now-tearstained pillows; your stomach dropped, Michael’s fingers still massaging your clit with precision until you were panting, abdomen tightening as you neared your climax.

It wasn’t long before you were cumming, still listening to him breathing heavily as he chased his own impending orgasm behind you. When you felt both hands return to your hips, his fingers gripping your tender skin until you whimpered, you knew he was close to the edge.

“You want your ass filled with my cum?” he said breathlessly, and you could tell it was taking everything inside him to properly get the words out. He slapped your ass, the sound crisp and loud, and you inhaled sharply. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Michael, I want it…” you said, half-dazed, voice so low you weren’t sure he’d even heard you. “Want your cum in my ass. Please…”

“Fuck.” Hurriedly, he impaled you until his balls slapped crudely against your ass; then, with a string of incoherent expletives, he shot his warm load deep inside you.

He stayed seated inside for a moment, placing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Fuck. You’re my good girl, aren’t you, (y/n)?” He pulled out of you slowly, running his fingers through the cum that was now leaking out of your hole and down your thighs. “So fucking good for me.”

He turned your limp body over so you were on your back, falling to lie beside you. Through half-open eyes, you surveyed him, boyishly handsome with damp curls clinging to his glowing forehead, flat torso rising and falling as he laced his fingers over his chest. God fucking damn it, was he beautiful.

“I can’t believe you actually let me fuck you in the ass,” he said, spit-glossed lips curving upwards at the corners as he flashed his perfect top row of teeth.

“I can’t believe it either,” you muttered, feigning slight irritation, although truthfully, you could believe it- you’d do anything for Michael.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, moving to pull you up against his chest. “You’re what my friends would call a keeper.”

Outwardly, you laughed, but his words made your heart sink for a reason you couldn’t explain.

A keeper. If only he really believed that.

ii.

For a while, things kept on like this- neither of you wanted to talk about the future, and so whenever it was mentioned, you’d wind up having sex to avoid the conversation you both were avoiding.

And then, one day, you brought in the mail to find that you’d received a letter from your top college— you’d been accepted.

That night, your parents had something of a makeshift celebration- your father insisted upon going out to dinner despite your protests, which was how you found yourself in a cramped Cheesecake Factory booth, thigh pressed up against Michael’s as your father and Miriam bickered across from you. You couldn’t help but notice that the entire situation felt vaguely familiar.

“Is it just me, or have the prices here gone up?” your father said, squinting his eyes to better read the small menu lettering.

“I told you we didn’t have to come here,” you mumbled, elbows leant on the marble surface of the table.

“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Miriam said. “We have to celebrate.”

“God, these prices are ridiculous, though. Why don’t we just leave and go to Applebee’s instead?” your father continued, loud enough that you were sure any passing waiter might be able to hear; in unison, you and Michael groaned.

“(Your dad’s name)!” said Miriam, eyes widened in disbelief as she turned back to you with a forced smile. “Don’t mind your cheapskate of a father, (y/n). You totally deserve to celebrate. You must be so excited!”

“Yep,” you said.

And you were excited- for the most part, at least. It just seemed like time had passed by so quickly: you’d been so wrapped up in all the meaningless teenage drama and angst of your senior year that it hadn’t even occurred to you how soon it would all be ending. And now you were faced with a whole new problem altogether; something that, at one point, had seemed like more of a blessing than a curse.

Your impending life without Michael.

You’d been attempting to avoid the thought, but as time went on, you found yourself becoming less and less able to tuck it away to the back of your mind. You’d be committing to college soon, as would Michael (once he heard back from one of the few colleges he’d applied to) and then that was it.

Of course there would be the breaks between semesters and during holidays; there was no question of whether you and Michael would see each other again. You probably wouldn’t have even been worried at all, had the two of you been strictly stepsiblings-with-benefits, but you were fairly certain that both you and Michael knew that wasn’t exactly the case here.

Maybe you were being delusional for thinking so. Anyone with common sense knew that Michael Langdon was a fuckboy, an asshole who knew how to charm girls into sucking his dick and nothing more. To think that there was anything deeper beyond your relationship (if you could even call it that) was probably foolish. And yet…

Sigh.

God, he had you whipped. It was nauseating, really. Only a few months ago, you’d been desperate for the school year to end so you’d never (or, at least, almost never) have to see Michael’s stupidly beautiful face again. Now, the mere thought of no longer being around him, no longer hearing his smart-ass comments and borderline-objectifying remarks made you feel queasy.

Of course the one boy you’d ever been hung up on like this had to be your fuckboy stepbrother, of all people. It was just your luck to wind up in a situation as convoluted and ridiculous as this one.

“What kinds of things are you thinking of doing in college?” asked Miriam, obviously aiming to fulfill her supportive stepparent quota for the evening. “Are you planning to join a sorority?”

Michael snorted. “You really think (y/n) would be able to get into a sorority?”

You scowled, making sure your arm was completely hidden underneath the table before pinching Michael’s thigh. “If I wanted to join a sorority- which I don’t, by the way- I would definitely be able to get in. So shut up.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that,” he said, smirking in that stupid, insufferable way that made you want to punch him right in his perfect face. Asshole.

Miriam shook her head in a way that said oh, these darned kids as your father continued to ignore everyone, still immersed in the contents of his menu. “Be nice, Michael.”

“What are you gonna do once you get to college, huh, (y/n)?” said Michael through a thin-lipped smile. You recognized that look- it was the face he made whenever he was intentionally trying to upset you. Of fucking course he’d choose today, of all days, to be an asshole. “I’m sure all the douchey frat guys will be allll over you. If you actually go to parties, that is.”

“You’re gonna be a douchey frat guy, Michael. So I really wouldn’t be talking if I were you.” You crossed your arms defensively over your chest, leaning back to rest your back against the padded booth.

“You really think I’d join a frat?” Michael asked, wrinkling his nose. “I’m not sticking a pinecone up my ass for anyone, especially not a bunch of circle jerkers.”

“Huh? What about pinecones?” your father said suddenly, putting down his menu to more directly focus on the conversation going on across from him.

You rubbed your temples, letting out a slow, exasperated exhale.

“(Y/n) was just telling me how excited she is to meet all the frat boys at college,” said Michael, flashing you a shit-eating grin.

“I was not!”

Just then, the waitress came over- a woman in her mid-sixties with bleach blond hair (you certainly wouldn’t admit this, but you were almost grateful to find that the waitress wasn’t a cute, younger girl, just so you wouldn’t be forced to watch Michael flirting with someone else in front of you).

As everyone ordered their food, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around Michael’s wrist, pulling his hand over to your bare thigh and squeezing it; he peered over at you, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively- usually he was the one pursuing you in public, so you didn’t doubt that this had caught him off guard.

You gave Michael a pout, widening your eyes faux-innocently as you traced your fingers along the veins in his hands.

To your disappointment, Michael shooed you away, hardly looking at you as he brought his attention back to the waitress. Huh. Definitely not typical Michael behavior. Once the waitress had headed off, you decided to take to a different approach: delicately, you placed your hand on Michael’s crotch, mouth watering as you grasped the large bulge that protruded from the front of his jeans.

At this, his body stiffened, but still he ignored your advances, pushing your hand off his lap and shooting you an indecipherable look from the corner of his eye.

God, what the hell was his problem tonight?

Just one more try, you thought, returning your hand to where it’d been seconds before and palming the outline of his cock. His breath hitched, hands flying to wrap around the edge of the table as you ran your thumb up and down his clothed length.

“I gotta take a piss,” Michael muttered, removing your hand from his lap as he abruptly stood up.

“Michael!” scolded Miriam, but he was already gone.

“I have to go to the bathroom too, actually,” you said suddenly, not bothering to worry about how suspicious it might look that you were following Michael. If your parents had gone this long without noticing anything weird between you and Michael, you doubted they ever would.

You weaved your way through the tables, heading to the dimly lit hallway that led to the bathroom; you could see Michael about to open the door to the men’s bathroom, walking so slowly he was practically sauntering. His shoulders were slumped, hands deep in the pockets of his skinny jeans, and for a second you wondered why the hell he looked so goddamn sad.

“Why were you acting like a little bitch back there?” you called after him, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

He stopped in his tracks, sighing deeply as he turned around to look at you. The playful expression you were so used to seeing on his face was nowhere to be found, and in all honesty, his seriousness unsettled you. “(Y/n)… we are literally out in public.”

“Not like that’s ever made a difference to you before.”

“Well, now that we’re adults, I think we should stop doing stupid shit like that.” He was talking out of his ass, clearly- you could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

“What, are you mad at me or something?” Oh god. Stop acting like a needy girlfriend, (y/n), you thought to yourself. Stop it right the fuck now.

“Why would I be mad at you?” His back was resting against the door to the bathroom now, obviously no longer worried about having to take a piss, as he’d claimed. You admired him for a second- the way his short-sleeved button-up hugged the barely bulging muscles in his arms, the way he had perhaps one too many top buttons undone. Fuck, he looked good. But then again, when didn’t he? “What would even make you think that?”

“‘Cause you were being an asshole at the table, talking about frat guys and shit.” You swallowed, bouncing anxiously on the balls of your feet as you considered what to say next. There was more, the words lingering on the back of your tongue, but you didn’t know how to go about phrasing them. “And honestly, Michael? It seems like you aren’t even happy for me.”

He raised his eyebrows, plump pink lips curving upwards at one corner. “What did you want me to do? Eat your fucking ass?”

Well, yeah, that’d be nice…you thought idly, before mentally kicking yourself for being so goddamn thirsty all the time.

“No, but you know this is a big deal to me, and you haven’t even said congratulations,” you said.

“Okay, then, congrats,” he said, his tone suddenly turning ice cold. “I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun three hours away with all your new frat boy friends.”

And, with that, he turned on his heel and went into the bathroom, letting the door slam shut and rattle noisily in its hinges behind him.

Oh.

So that’s why he’s upset. Your lips twitched, and then you were smiling, big and stupid.

You knew the situation shouldn’t have made you happy- in fact, happiness was the last emotion you’d ever expect to feel after one of Michael’s little bitch fits- but there was something so satisfying about knowing that Michael was worried about you meeting other guys, knowing that he didn’t want you three hours away from him, knowing that maybe he felt the same way about you that you did about him.

Or maybe you were putting too much thought into things, like always. Whatever— you’d take what you could get.

iii.

Michael had made it a point, after your confrontation, to avoid you. By now you were used to him doing things like this; you’d come to realize that these cold-shoulder periods were simply his way of recuperating his emotions.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Michael was accepted into his own top choice (god, was he lucky that he had the entire high schools’ staff wrapped around his finger, because lord knew he hadn’t exerted a single bit of effort to get good grades)- a school that was far closer to home than the one you’d committed to. You’d both ordered your cap and gown, and then, in what seemed like a blink of an eye, graduation day finally rolled around.

You could hardly believe that the day had come. You could still remember your very first day of high school, years before when you were still naive and innocent- things had been so simple back then.

Now, as you stood before the mirror in the girl’s bathroom, dressed in your deep blue graduation gown with the matching cap tucked under your arm, you could hardly wrap your head around how much your life had changed, how much you’d changed.

In about a half an hour, the entire senior class was due to meet outside at the football field, where hundreds of cheap fold-out chairs had been set up in front of the podium your principal would be standing behind. You were dreading the ceremony, groaning internally when you thought of the unforgiving June heat, and the fact that you’d have to walk up there, a sweaty mess, to retrieve your diploma in front of everyone.

Once it was over, though, you’d be free. And god, what a frightening thought that was.

You didn’t have much of an idea of what your future held, but you supposed you’d figure that out later. Popping the top back onto your tube of lipstick and tossing it into your purse, you examined yourself thoughtfully before positioning the cap on your head and fiddling with the tassel so it fell just right.

You imagined Michael doing the same thing in the boy’s bathroom, spending far too much time adjusting his hair in the mirror, making poses at himself and practicing the way he’d smile when it was his turn to get his diploma. The thought was so silly, so endearing, that it made your heart hurt a little.  

Michael won’t ignore you forever, you told yourself. He just needs to sort things out with himself.

You left the bathroom, pulling your bag over your shoulder and walking down the hall towards the front entrance of the school. People had already begun clearing out, and although you could hear laughter echoing throughout the hallways, there weren’t many fellow seniors in sight.

The pale yellow hallways looked dismal (or more dismal than usual, at least), stripped of their colorful posters for the summer. You dragged your fingertips along a freshly-bare wall as you strolled leisurely, hoping to waste as much time as possible before you were obligated to go outside.

As you walked past an empty classroom, you heard shuffling coming from an adjacent hallway; in an instant, you were pressed up against the door, a large hand clamped tightly over your mouth. It took a split second for you to process the all-too-familiar scent of Michael, your heart rate immediately slowing once you figured out what was going on.

“Michael, what the hell are you doing?” you demanded, once you’d utilized an obscene amount of strength to tear his hand away from your mouth.

He was half-smiling, working a wad of pink-tinted cinnamon gum in his mouth, pale eyes shimmering with fondness as he looked down at you. You were lost in his gaze for all of a few seconds, his chest pinning you back against the door, when you remembered that you were both in public, and not just in public- in school.

“Michael, are you fucking cra-“

Your words were promptly cut off as Michael pulled you back, opening the classroom door with one hand while he used the other to hold onto your wrist. Then he tugged you inside, checking halfheartedly over his shoulder to make sure that nobody had seen.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, and I think I finally figured things out,” he said, pushing you back onto the teacher’s desk and wedging himself between your parted thighs, taking a moment to hike up your graduation gown so your legs were exposed. “Any second that I’m not fucking you is a second wasted.”

He didn’t give you the chance to respond (or mock him for his corniness), pressing his lips fervently to yours with such intensity that you fell back onto the desk, your graduation cap falling off and toppling to the ground. Instinctively, you kissed him back, fingernails pressing into his back (which bore the same deep blue fabric as you) as you attempted to match the urgency of his kiss.

This was a bad idea. No, this was an awful idea. So why, oh why, didn’t you want to stop?

“We can’t do this here,” you said breathlessly, during one interval when Michael had broken away to catch his breath, a strand of saliva stretching between your faces.

“Sure we can,” he said, reaching up the short floral dress you wore under your gown and fumbling with your underwear. “We just have to be quick.”

“W-what if someone walks in?” you pressed, allowing Michael to work your panties down your legs and discard them on a desk. He shrugged, bunching up the fabric of his own gown so he could unbutton his jeans and retrieve his cock from its confines.

“Who cares? It’s not like we can get suspended,” he said, stunning you, as usual, with his nonchalance. He took his shaft in one hand, already semi-erect, rubbing his leaking head against your inner thigh. You wanted so desperately to argue, to push him away, but fuck— this hold Michael had on you had to be supernatural, because all you could bring yourself to do was pull him closer.

“Michael, we’re stepsiblings. People are gonna lose their fucking minds if they find out—”

“—So then they won’t find out.” He ran his cock through your slick folds, evoking a soft mewl from the back of your throat. “Like I said, we just have to be quick.”

You pressed your lips shut, squeaking quietly when he penetrated you in one slow thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned, clutching your upper thighs with a bruising hold, balls slapping noisily against your skin as he bottomed out inside you. “Such a bad girl for me.”

“M-Michael…” you whined, rolling your hips in melodic time with Michael’s, his pelvis gradually slamming against yours harder and harder until he’d adopted an almost ruthless pace to fuck you with. He peppered your jawline and throat with kisses as he continued to fuck into you, your legs raising to wrap around his torso, broken moans leaving you as the blunt edge of the desk dug into your lower back.

“You’ll do anything for your big brother, won’t you?” he growled against your throat, cock brushing against something spongey and sensitive inside you and sending your lower body into convulsions. “Spreading your legs and letting me split your little cunt whenever I feel like it…”

Your pussy clenched at these words, cheeks burning in shame at the truth behind them—it was almost embarrassing how perpetually willing you were to let him have his way with you. He hissed, inserting one hand between your warm bodies to work at your clit, the other extending up to your face so he could clasp his hand over your mouth.

“Such a fucking slut for me,” he said between sharp inhales, and you could taste the salt of sweat on his palm; his eyes were droopy with lust, pupils dilated so that the baby blue was almost entirely eclipsed— he was so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but admire him as he pumped into you. “You’re fucking dripping. I bet you wanna get caught.”

Realistically, you did not want to get caught, but the idea was still an interesting one, to say the least. You sank your fingernails deeper into Michael’s shoulders, hard enough that you’d probably leave half-moon shaped imprints in his skin, even through the tough material of his graduation gown.

“What would everyone think of you, hm? Knowing that you’re a little slut who loves being split on her stepbrother’s big cock?” he was speaking into your ear so low that he was barely whispering, chills erupting down your spine at the sheer lewdness of his words.

“I’ll bet all the guys would be lining up to get a taste of your slutty cunt if they knew how much of a whore you are,” he continued, impaling you with such aggression that your eyes rolled back into your skull. “Too bad that this pussy belongs to me.”

You couldn’t do much more than whimper, your teeth pressing against the inside of your mouth from the force of Michael’s hand against it.

From out in the hallway came a series of voices, and Michael stopped his thrusting, his cock still deep inside you. Your pussy twitched- your body’s natural attempt to resume the friction that had ceased and left you aching for more; both of you waited with bated breath for the group outside to pass the classroom, chests heaving in soundless unison.

“Fuck,” Michael grunted once the voices faded away, relocating his hand from your mouth to the desk, bracing himself with his palm flat against the faux-wooden surface as he returned to fucking you.

“Michael, please…” you moaned, rocking your hips underneath him impatiently. The prospect of being caught in such a compromising position was beginning to scare you, and as much as you never wanted to stop feeling the immense pleasure that only Michael could provide, you thought it’d be best to wrap things up for now.

“Shhhh.” He thumbed at your swollen bud roughly, your muscles tensing as you felt your orgasm start to build up in the pit of your belly. “Be a good girl for me and keep that pretty mouth shut.”

You did as you were told, closing your mouth and letting your head fall back as he slid in and out of your heat, making harsh contact with your cervix every time.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, cinnamon-scented breath hot on your neck as he nestled his face in your shoulder, biting down on the smooth skin beside your jugular. “Taking my cock so well.”

His thrusts grew sloppier with each passing second, and you tightened your legs around Michael’s waist, not wanting there to be even an inch of space between your bodies.

“Oh god…” you sighed, despite Michael’s demands, but at this point he was too far gone to scold you.

The sensation of Michael stretching you out, paired with his fingers against your most sensitive point, was far too much for you to bear- it didn’t take much more for the coil inside you to snap, sending you into an intense orgasm that had you seeing brilliantly colored fireworks amidst the boring gray-beige walls.

“Shit,” Michael grunted, your cunt squeezing around his length as he fucked you for all he was worth. You ground your hips up against him, crying out as he drove his cock so deep inside you that you swore you could feel it in your stomach.

A low, almost animalistic noise came from the depths of Michael’s throat as he came, his hot load filling you up and warming your insides. You laid there motionless, watching from underneath half-closed lids as he slowly pulled out and tucked himself back into his jeans. Your cheeks were flushed, hair matted to your damp forehead, lips swollen and glossy with spit; the cherry on top to complete your debauched look, though, was the thick cum dribbling down your inner thigh.

Michael’s eyes fell down to where his essence was spilling from you, a self-satisfied smirk crossing his lips as he reached forward and drew his fingertips through it.

“Open up,” he ordered, and you complied, granting him access to your mouth as he pressed his cum-coated fingers against your flattened tongue.

You wrapped your lips around him and sucked, eyes fluttering at his slightly bitter taste. Once he was sufficiently cleaned off, he withdrew his hand from your mouth with a loud, wet pop.

“That’s a good girl.”

You got up off the desk, recovering your purse from the ground where it had been abandoned before slipping your underwear back on underneath your dress. You probably would’ve preferred having some extra time to clean up, especially since Michael had came inside you, but that was out of the question for now.

You could only imagine Michael’s internal smugness at the thought that you’d be graduating high school with his cum leaking out of you.

“Fuck, we gotta go,” Michael said, checking his cell phone. “We have like five minutes.”

“Shit!”

You slung your purse over your shoulder and hurried out into the hallway, ignoring the dull pain between your legs from how hard Michael had fucked you. Michael followed hot on your heels, and together you made your way through the vacant halls of your soon-to-be former high school, not bothering once to look back.

[sweetness47]

The Shaman’s Choice Ch. 4

Pairing Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Characters of the series include: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Jo, reader’s parents, Reader’s grandmother, Reader’s brothers (Darren OC & Michael OC), Mary, Jack, Apocalypse Archangel!Michael

Chapter 4:

@spnkinkbingo square filled (case fic)

@spnabobingo square filled (Jealous Alpha)

@samwinchesterbingo square filled (free space)

Word Count: 3053

Summary: So this is an SPN fic, but contains a lot of wild AU ideas. Bear with me while the story unfolds, and enjoy it.

Warnings for all chapters just in case: MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY! smut, sex, unprotected sex, abo dynamics, knotting, mating bites, claiming, oral, shower sex, sibling arguments, swearing, violence, mentions of brother in love with sister (unhealthy obsession, jealousy)

The entire bunker was echoing as Sam let out a loud “Whoop!!” and kissed his Omega. Well wishes came from all, but none more thrilled than the expectant parents. YN put in a call to her own parents, not giving details, but asking if she and Sam could come by for a visit. (Mom & Dad) were happy to hear from their daughter, and even more thrilled to have them visit.

The four-hour drive was filled with plans for a nursery as well as lots of ideas for baby names. YN made sure to tell Sam about the estate, more specifically the fact that it was quite extensive. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable with the fact that her family was rich. Sam assured her that he was fine and not to worry.

She worried anyways, because Michael would also be there. They hadn’t spoken or seen each other since that first night she met Sam. Her mind drifted back to memories of when she and Michael were younger, and compared them to Sam’s first impression of her brother. Jealousy.

Sam looked over at YN. “You ok?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, just thinking about Michael. Haven’t seen or heard from him since that first night. Darren has checked in more than Mike. Hell, I’ve heard from my Nana more than from Mike.”

She looked over at Sam and sighed. He sensed her sadness, but he didn’t know what to say. He did, however, want to kick her brother’s ass for hurting YN like that. But he wouldn’t, not without a damn good reason anyways.

She was so pre-occupied that she almost missed the private road. “Turn here Sam.”

He slowed and turned, stopping when he hit a dead end five minutes later. “YN?”

“Apparuistis.” She exclaimed.

Where stood a dense forest now appeared a large security gate. Sam gave a low whistle of wonder as he surveyed the extensive grounds, driving up to the parking area YN had pointed to, and putting the Impala in park. Dean was a tad apprehensive about loaning Baby, but he trusted his brother and YN implicitly. The classic car was in impeccable condition, and would impress everyone.

Both were greeted warmly by YN’s parents, Nana, and Darren. Michael was no where to be found. She asked the question that weighed on her, though in her heart, she already knew the answer. “Mama, where’s Mike?”

The room went quiet. It was Darren who spoke up. “YN, no one’s seen him for days. He disappeared shortly after you and Sam got together.”

Tears fell from YN’s eyes, and Sam wrapped his arms and escorted her to the living room. The others followed, bringing mint tea and some fresh baked cookies. YN felt a bit better after partaking in the refreshments. Her mother sat down beside her, and attempted a distraction.

“So, why the sudden visit, YN?”

YN glanced over at Sam, who smiled and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well…Sam and I are having twins!”

Sam nearly choked on his cookie, his eyes wide as saucers. Shouts of joy filled the parlour as the family celebrated, hugging both Sam and YN. Sam wore a huge grin for the rest of the day, through dinner, dessert, and the entire night. Twins! He wasn’t just gonna be a father, he was going to be a father twice! He made sweet gentle love to his Omega that night, mindful of her newfound condition.

The next morning, both were awakened by YN’s mother, who insisted they come downstairs immediately, nicely dressed. The two showered, and found nice, semi-formal clothing waiting on the bed for them. The clothes were fine silk, and Sam was surprised at how accurate the fit was. YN giggled at her Alpha’s expression, explaining some of her mother’s gifts to him. She had a knack for size and clothing creation, it was similar to how a photographic memory worked. YN stared at her dress, intricate beadwork adorning the neckline and the bodice. These were wedding clothes, or her tribe’s version of them.

The ceremony itself was short and simple, and YN wasn’t really surprised that this was planned. Sam wasn’t complaining, and neither was she. In reality, she liked this better…no big crowds, and no dress shopping. YN’s father escorted her down after her mother had escorted Sam down. Nana was standing in the parlour, waiting as (father’s name) brought her to Sam, putting her hand in his. Nana took a white silk ribbon and bound their joined hands while chanting, “Benedicite, amare, uxor, cor.”

Then, once the ribbon was secure, Nana looked at the couple and smiled. Raising her hands to the sky she whispered, “Ut benedicat haec duo sunt matrimonia iungeremus.”

The family stood. “Benedicat eis!”

YN smiled at Sam, who looked ridiculously happy, but mildly confused. “This is the kissing part.” She whispered, and Sam dove in, his mouth claiming hers as every one gathered to wish them well. The happy couple received numerous hugs and congratulations, and were thrilled beyond belief when they saw Dean and Jo, who had been invited over by Darren.

The feast lasted the better part of the day and evening. Sam and YN did manage to sneak off for a few minutes here and there, returning with slightly disheveled attire and both were blushing furiously. Everyone just acted as if that was perfectly normal, which it was for newlyweds. Darren had brought his Omega, Nikki as well, one of YN’s best friends, for the celebration. Sam, YN, Dean, Jo, Darren and Nikki talked and laughed for a better part of the night, becoming great friends by the end.

It was 5:00am when YN felt something strong, it was power, but from where she couldn’t guess. Quietly she slipped from the bed and peeked out the window to the grass below. Movement caught her eye. It almost looked like Michael, but the darkness made identifying him difficult. Stupid dickhead! If he’d gotten involved with drugs or some such shit, she’d kill him.

As quietly as she could, she slipped on joggers and a tee, carrying her runners so she wouldn’t make noise. She almost made it to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going, Omega?” came the groggy, yet commanding voice of her Alpha.

“Outside for a minute. I thought I heard something. I’m going to check it out.” YN whispered.

Before she could even blink he was there beside her. “Half truths are almost the same as lying YN. Talk to me.”

‘How can I? It could take you away from me! From our children!’

Her thoughts cried out to him, but she remained silent. Forasmuch as she wanted to tell him the truth, there was too much risk. Or was there. If this was to do with Mike, and her gut feeling, then she needed to keep Sam as far away as possible.

Still, despite the prophecy, he could end up involved or worse, killed. Tears fell from her (eye color) orbs, and she allowed Sam to hold her as sobs broke out. Sam soothed her with gentle words, stroking her hair, until she was able to talk.

“Oh Sam, I am so afraid of losing you, that’s why I haven’t said anything. Please stay here. I couldn’t bare it if you died because of me. Please Sam!”

Her Alpha sighed. He could sense her fear and the truth behind her words. But he had vowed to protect her, to keep her safe, and that wasn’t going to happen if she went by herself.

“Omega, look at me, please.” YN brought her eyes up to meet his. “I made a promise to your father and mother, that I would protect you, and I intend to uphold my promise, and my vow to you. I’m coming with you, and there’s no talking me out of it.”

He held her close, nuzzling her neck as he always did. It brought her some comfort, his scent had become her own personal calming agent. Besides, at least this way she could watch him, and ensure his safety. Plus, there were the pups to think about now, she really couldn’t blame him for wanting to come. She just didn’t want to lose him either, so right then she decided to dig her own path, and stray from the warnings.

“Ok, Sam, but I need to tell you something first. Please don’t hate me.” YN’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I could never hate you.” Came his reply.

He pulled her onto his lap as she began to speak, telling him the whole story: the prophecy, the powers, the mark…all of it. Once finished, she closed her eyes and waited for the yelling and hurt feelings that she was so sure would follow. Instead, Sam stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

“We’ll be ok YN, promise.” He whispered. “I’ve got your back always.”

She wanted to believe him. Her mind blocked out the negative as she and her Alpha made their way outside. She had to believe his promise, or she wouldn’t be able to do this, whatever this was. Michael had disappeared from view, but his scent was strong, too strong. Mike was in a rut, a bad one. Sam noticed it too, a low growl escaping his chest as he followed his Omega closely, senses on high alert. Brother or not, if he made any move toward YN that Sam perceived as threatening, Sam would tear Michael to shreds.

The scent continued deep into the woods. Sam held YN’s hand, never wanting to let go. He had a bad feeling, one that only intensified after hearing YN’s story, and hearing about the prophecy. And now with Michael in a rut? That just added to the excitement.

YN motioned for them to stop, so they waited and listened. Voices, two distinct ones, Michael and one she didn’t recognize, were coming from the clearing. Then light flashed, bright enough to blind the eavesdroppers briefly.

The light faded as Michael’s voice rang out, or at least it sounded like Mike. But YN knew her brother well enough. Whoever was talking, it most certainly was not her twin.

“YN? Come closer. Bring your mate. I know your there. Don’t make me come find you.”

Sam squeezed her hand with some reassurance, and the two stepped into the open. The man before them smelled like her brother, and yet it didn’t smell or sound like him. The saw his eyes, and Sam knew what had happened.

“Michael.” He said quietly.

YN looked at her Alpha with even more confusion. “Sam, what…?”

Sam stopped her. “No YN, not your brother. The Archangel Michael.”

Michael stepped forward, and Sam bared his fangs, growling deep in his chest. “Stay back. You touch her and I’ll rip you apart.”

The Archangel-turned-Alpha flicked his wrist, expecting to send Sam flying against the nearest tree. But he didn’t.

Instead, at the same moment, YN’s voice rang out.

“Clipeum!”

Sam stood as the force went around his form, shocking him but his anger never waivered. YN wasn’t even close to being done, however.

“Ignis!”

Michael was caught off guard at the sudden attack, and his meat suit went flying against the nearest tree. His clothes were slightly charred, but still intact. He wasted no time, and gained the upper hand while YN was focused on the offense. He lifted Sam into the air, slowly constricting his airways.

YN cried out. “No! Leave him alone!”

Michael pondered this, his mouth turning slowly into a smile that made YN shiver. “Why should I? He and his brother have been thorns in my side for a while now. Plus…, he added, “This one took you as his mate, before your brother could claim you as his own.”

YN visibly paled, but she stood her ground. “Michael please. You know he’s my soulmate! Leave him be. Please! I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt him.” Tears fell as she begged the Archangel for mercy.

“Be careful what you promise, YN. Here’s the deal. I’ll leave your Alpha alive, hell I’ll spare all the Winchesters if…” his smile turned dark, and YN felt nauseous, “You renounce Sam and take me as your Alpha.”

“NO!” Sam screamed, his eyes read with anger. “YN, don’t! Live free! I’m not worth that.” He stared at his nemesis/brother in law. “You can’t trust him.”

YN’s heart was torn. Her love for Sam, and her desire to keep him safe, versus an eternity of misery in a loveless union, with her own flesh and blood as her Alpha. She felt sick inside. What kind of choice was this? The outcome sucked either way. If she said no, Sam would die. If she said yes, Sam would live but she would no longer be his. Sam was right though. There was no guarantee Michael would keep his word. Then she had another thought.

“If I say yes, Sam, Dean, and all their family and friends live. You don’t touch them, you don’t hurt them in any way. And when my pups are born, Sam gets sole custody of them, his to raise. That’s my condition. If you go back on the deal, our union is void and Sam becomes mine again.”

“YN! Don’t worry about me! Let me go. Don’t give in to that monster!” Sam cried.

Tears fell hard. “I love you too much Sam. I can’t watch him kill you. Promise me you’ll take good care of our pups. Please!”

Sam nodded, and YN turned to Michael. “Do we have a deal, Michael?” She held her hand out to her brother-turned-angel.

Michael stepped forth to grab the hand, eager to seal the deal. “We do indeed.”

YN’s hand closed around her brother’s hand and smiled. “NOW SAM!”

Michael frowned and went to move, but realized quickly that he was frozen in place. Then fear filled him as Sam spoke an all too familiar verse:

Omnipotentis dei potestatem invoco

Omnipotentis dei potestatem invoco

Aborbe terra

Hunc angelum omne obsequendum

Domine expuet

Domine expuet

Ut deum ad empyreum remittat

 YN, still holding his hand, clarified. “See, you are smart, the whole plan was actually pretty good. But, both you and my dumbass brother overlooked a few things.”

Sam stood up, no longer in Michael’s power, and came to stand beside his Omega.

YN continued. “My brother and I are twins…identical twins. Near impossible, I know, but our DNA will prove it. We share a special connection no one else does. Telepathy. I knew the moment he came to you. I knew all of it, all the betrayal. I wanted so hard to believe that my own brother wasn’t capable of that. I tried to find a way to bring him back to us.”

Sam spoke then. “YN told me everything. The reason you can’t move? Her palm has an angel trap on it, bound with her power. She is indeed very powerful, I’d venture more powerful than you. And…”, he leaned in close, teeth bared, “she’s mine.”

YN let his hand go then, and Michael, the archangel, began to leave her brother’s body. But in a parting shot, the angel went to send Sam flying against the nearest tree in an attempt to kill him, but YN felt the thought and pushed Sam out of the way, the blast sending her flying, crashing against a large pine. Bones shattered, and YN cried out, her body crumpling to the ground. Sam screamed her name, his rage directed at Michael, incinerating him and his host. He ran to his Omega, his beautiful YN, checking for a pulse.

He found none.

Sam’s grief was great. His voice howled through the woods as he mourned his loss. As he lay his head on her chest, tears covering her shirt, he stroked her hair and kissed her, then he covered his face as sadness consumed him.

There was movement, but none that he noticed at first. Sam’s tears began to glow, and disappear into YN’s skin. Then his eyes snapped open as the shattered bones of her spine began to pull themselves back together. Her lungs drew breath, and YN coughed as her eyes opened, the oxygen flooding her system.

Sam’s jaw dropped to the ground, staring at the miracle that had just happened. He wasted no time in gathering her into his arms, kissing her fiercely. She moaned, partly from pain and confusion, and partly because she was enjoying the attentions her alpha was showing her. She knew partly the reason for the emotional overflow…she’d died…and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was sitting up and breathing. That’s when she felt it, or rather them…her twins! They had used healing power on her, which was near unheard of. Most infants, no matter their lineage, didn’t have that kind of knowledge.

Sam’s power though, she knew where that came from. She’d given him the ability to share her powers when she had left her mark on his shoulder, in other words, the mating bite she’d bestowed upon him. The prophecy. She shook her head as everything fell into place.

Then there was her twin…the one puzzle piece she had wanted to be wrong about. His behavior made sense now, but it was still alot for her to process. Sam helped YN to stand up, supporting her until he was sure she wouldn’t fall, and together they started back to the house. She had no idea what she was going to tell her parents or Darren, but at least now she felt safe, felt at peace. There were no more threats or immediate danger to her or Sam.

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 20: Thoughts on The 100 2x04, Many Happy Returns

It’s literally been five months since I did one of these…

The wasteland was a pretty cool concept and I’m sad that they kinda pulled back on it later. Like, when characters can get from point A below the wasteland to point B above it without apparently passing through it at all, it makes it seem like the area is actually not that big after all. Is it, like, just NYC? And maybe the metro area? Also, again, as usual, floored by the costuming on this show. Amazing.

So Zoran is the first human Jaha meets on Earth. A kid and a mutated human.

Clarke is so intensely pragmatic. She legit doesn’t care if people once tried to kill her, as long as they aren’t trying to kill her now. I don’t really see this as forgiveness, but rather an ability to forget the past that isn’t useful to her. Also lol @Anya for saying Clarke is weak, like who broke who out of the Mountain hmmm?

“Everything is Grounder territory.” Murphy telling the truth. And even if some parts of the world aren’t Grounder territory, how the hell would Bellamy know?

Murphy, canonically a terrible runner. Rewatching these early eps just reinforces his glow up since then. (Not in terms of running, but in terms of, like, haircut.)

The wreckage of the Factory crash is so devastating, following the trail of bodies to the crash site. I still wish we’d found out what happened to everyone else. I guess we’re supposed to assume the rest of the stations exploded before impact? But still. I feel some bitterness.

This saving Mel story is entirely, 100% about keeping Bellamy, Finn, and Murphy stuck for most of an episode, allowing Octavia to find them, and then forcing Bellamy to come back to Camp Jaha rather than continue searching for Clarke—so he can, you know, run into Clarke. It’s pure filler. And imo not even very interesting filler since I’m not really like a rescue/adventure story person. I can’t even figure out how Mel ended up stranded along the side of the cliff. Was she climbing up and then got tired? Also, on a related note, at what point do they, Bellamy in particular, realize which station this is? Is it immediately obvious from the wreckage, or only from the identity of the survivor? Because this is Bellamy’s home.

All that time they were talking, Sterling was there in the background, doing whatever. Honestly though shame on Bellamy a little for letting Finn convince him not to save Mel.

Totally forgot they built an electric fence at Camp Jaha. Then, began work on a radio beacon.

I can’t even pay attention to the Clarke and Anya scenes because I’m too attracted to both of them. Less so in the mud. Which is 100% gratuitous given that uh, I don’t think the Mountain Men who almost never go outdoors and are currently wearing big ass gas masks on their faces can smell shit.

Bellamy and his adventure squad are such dumbasses. Huh, let’s tie this thin rope with a single knot around a stump and then just watch our friend use it to scale the side of a mountain. Nothing can go wrong there. I mean there are fucking four of them just standing around watching when they could be, uh, securing the rope? Anyway RIP Sterling, cause of death: idiocy. (Slash the narrative’s need to put Bellamy in the hero role at this point, and to up the ante on his heroism, and to waste some time.)

To be more fair, I think this is semi-important for Bellamy’s characterization, an early version of ‘save who we can save today.’ He’s at a sort of crossroads at this point, not really a leader anymore like in S1, but sort of a leader, and he needs to figure out what sort of leader he’ll be.

Monroe’s “Sterling was one of us” warms my heart because it speaks to my “the 100 were a distinct social group” theory, which I wish (again lol) had been more important to the show and for longer.

Murphy does fall in, though, pretty fast. After Monroe says the ‘one of us’ thing. Which is actually pretty impressive given that a few days ago he was blasting a hole in the dropship and running away with all their ammunition.

This must be such a trip for Jaha, like, he is aware that forest exists still, because of transmissions from the 100, but he’s in the middle of the fucking desert, and this is all he knows of Earth, whatsoever. Also, again, these sets are perfect, I love them so much.

How did the City of Light become a legend among the Grounders? It’s made from the Alie 1 chips…. Didn’t Becca, like, not like those? I’m assuming of course that literally any of this was ever thought out or ever made sense.

“I have no room for hate.” You know what I’m just gonna say it: I think this is true. This is really how Jaha lives the rest of his life. I think people forget since he wasn’t really himself for most of S3, and even in S2 his mission to the City of Light seemed kind of nutty (and boring). But “I have no room for hate” both describes him pretty well, and is rather a lovely thing about him. If only he hadn’t been so obsessed with the COL, tbh. Searching for it was a bad idea from the very beginning and it was also, I think, a rather cowardly idea.

I forgot that this was where the concept of radiation disfigurement came in and was explained. Is that really how it works? Like random mutations, even generations after the event, from non-mutated parents? Lol I have no idea. That said, Sienna kind of looks like she has some scarring on her face, too.

Here is Jaha finding someone who left her people for her son, whereas he sacrificed his son for his people. Does this also change his mind on things going forward? Connect to his insistence on the COL, at the expense of a chunk of his people?

I miss this thing where characters knew other characters even though we’d never seen them interact before, because, like, a history exists and then the show acknowledges it. That was fun.

I shipped Raven/Wick and I don’t regret it, even though fandom’s toxicity basically killed it for me in a lot of ways. They had a good rapport. More importantly, he might literally be the only man to not take shit from Raven and to actually be brave enough to challenge her.

 Engineering is such a damn good set.

This is a weird episode because our two mains have pretty much the least important, or at least least-interesting, story lines. They’re basically just being moved into position to reunite at the end of the ep, and that’s it.

Clarke: “I just need something sharp and sterile [to remove the tracker from your arm].” Anya: bites it out with her teeth.

Why do they bother putting trackers on the Grounders? Do they escape often?

Murphy’s not only helping with the rescue mission, he’s at the head of the line.

Bellamy’s legs appreciation.

Murphy: “Don’t you worry, Bellamy, I won’t drop you.” I mean…you did once try to hang him. But by-gones I guess. I do believe at heart Murphy just wants to be part of the crew.

I think the Raven and Wick scenes are my favorites of this episode. I have two uninjured legs and I wouldn’t climb that thing; Raven is a brave bitch. And when she has to give up and come down, probably the saddest moment of the ep, along with finding Factory station. Some of this is relevant to my big bang.

 After literally all this, Finn’s still like ‘Bellamy, just drop that rando’ lol. No, bitch, don’t do this half-assed. Stop being a wimp and pull them both up.

Before it’s revealed that the horn is Octavia, this really does look like Bellamy and the No Good Very Bad Day lol: first Factory is found destroyed, then Sterling dies, then you almost die when your fake rope breaks, then someone starts shooting arrows at you, then acid fog rolls in, like, what now universe??

I guess another purpose of this story line, being fair again, is that Murphy and Bellamy are now officially friends again. Like Murphy has proven himself completely trustworthy as of that little nod between them.

“She blew the horn” is s obviously ADR to explain what exactly is happening here. Which is helpful, even though she’s clearly carrying the horn.

Blake sibling reunion!

“Three mechanics made it to the ground.” I mean… you’d think it would be more than that… what with the entirety of Mecha making it. Or was that station mostly casualties? I don’t know, this still doesn’t make sense to me, how they split up people between stations. Season 2 implied it was random, Season 3 implied it was by home station.

“Your leg’s messed up and that blows. Figure out a way to work around it.” Legit question: is there anyone else who would have said that to her?

I really, truly miss Wick tbh. One of the few characters with a sense of humor. (And yet again: he was good for Raven.)

They’re really playing fast and loose with the rules about language in this verse huh? Warriors speak English, no everyone speaks English, no English is for friends only I guess?

Jaha just wants to be a dad. Like, do I think he was a good parent… I dunno. Is he a better parent than anyone else on this show? At this point I would have to say yes. (No, Clarke does not count as a “parent” jfc.)

Ruthless Clarke ftw.

Jaha making a chess board just breaks my heart. Just let him be a dad!!

It’s been such a freaking long time since I watched this, I can’t remember if Octavia had braids in the last ep or not, like how long she’s had them. And it’s really bugging me, because someone else must have put them in, and I’m trying to figure out who that might be.

Also, where did she get the horn? I guess the implication is it was Lincoln’s… I can’t really remember. Wouldn’t it still have been on his person when he was captured?

Octavia went off the rails but at this point I’m still very fond of her.

The map Finn gives Bellamy lists ‘statue’ (Lincoln Memorial?), ‘twin trees’ (???), ‘Ark’ (Alpha Station??), and ‘amusement park’ AND amusement park is very close to Ark so my question is why didn’t they use that amusement park for something interesting??

Bellamy knows he shouldn’t let Finn go off alone but then, what can he do? Finn never really adhered to his authority. And I don’t think he feels like he can flex that right now, like it’s sufficiently established in this new order.

But he does arm Murphy. Which says a lot about how much he has decided to trust him, but also how little he trusts Finn. I forgot about this split in the character groups, though I should have remembered it, since of course this leads directly to the massacre.

“Parting, such sweet sorrow, right?” is an interesting quote from a kid who can’t spell ‘die.’

Aw, Clarke goes back to the dropship. I forgot about that. But then of course she doesn’t realize… anything. She doesn’t know the Ark is down, she doesn’t know what happened to the few of her friends who were on the outside. And her face when she sees the message to her, and only her name is still visible…

Blah blah blah fight sequence.

Creepy skeleton parts on the ground.

 I think this could have been the start of an Anya/Clarke friendship of some sort: Clarke earns her respect by fighting well, Clarke’s people protect Anya, the alliance forms… too bad they had to kill her.

And Clarke figures out where Alpha is based on Raven and Wick’s balloon.

“We fell from Earth in a football stadium. I think they already know we’re here.”

BUT the balloon is also what sets off Byrne, and gets her so worried about Grounders she authorizes the ‘shoot on sight’ command that kills Anya and almost Clarke. On the one hand, this is a nicely wrought story line. On the other hand, they shouldn’t have killed Anya, so. A wash.

Was Byrne’s worry about the balloon warranted though? I can’t decide.

Zoran, such a kind soul.

How can there possibly be a bounty on Sky People (side note: Jaha’s reaction to that name like ‘huh well I guess that is what we are’) that people all the way out in the dead zone would know about? Like… they’ve been on Earth for like a month. And the war has only been going on for part of that time, arguably. If it even is a war.

Trent Lane voice: Betrayal, yeah, stab in the back, betrayal…

Too bad “To survive, we do what we must” didn’t end up in like the fandom lexicon. It’s a pretty good variant on the theme. Plus Jaha’s just so… like he’s been fucked over but he can’t even be mad, because he gets that she’s doing it for her son and he wishes he had that chance. Watching his scenes again, I really feel like he was underrated and I miss him a lot.

I wonder what happened to Zoran and family. Were they absorbed into the hive? More generally, what happened to people seeking the CoL before ALIE could get it properly running with Jaha’s help? Did they all just… die in the desert?

Alpha Station at night is so beautiful.

And Clarke is so happy.

And this is SUCH A SETUP FOR CLARKE AND ANYA TO BE FRIENDS OMG, Anya should have brokered peace with Lexa, there was such an obvious role for her… Her death was 100% random attempt at shock, this show’s #1 worst quality, which is saying a lot.

I mean shot in the back while she’s walking away these Sky Guards are incompetent.

RIP Anya.

I really thought the Bellarke reunion was in this ep for some reason. But then I also knew Anya died right at the end—for more Shock Value ofc—so I don’t even know. I remember the scenes but nothing of their order I guess.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

About words and language in 13x18 (plus Sam and duty)

- High and low registers: Lucifer, Gabriel and the farcical

I want to start this post about words in 13x18 not from the obvious theme (speak! and use the correct words!) but from a different perspective. In particular I want to compare two moments: the exorcism scene and the mentions of the porn stars.

Let’s start with the exorcism scene - it was farcical in a jarring and disgusting way because it was supposed to be; all the Lucifer scenes in the episode (in every episode?) are creepy and obnoxious because that’s what he is. The priest invokes the “Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly armies, Saint Michael the Archangel” and gets Lucifer... which introduces us to an aspect I found very interesting about the scene.

The thing is, there is a deliberate gap in registers in the scene: the priests use the high register of religious formulas, but the demon and Lucifer talk at a much lower level, and the clash in registers gives the scene the character of a farce. Think Don Quixote speaking like (his idea of) a noble medieval knight versus... well, the unrefined register of vulgar people: there is an effect of pathetic that is born from the fact that a high register is completely out of place in the rest of the situation.

In general, all of Lucifer’s scene have a farcical nature: he pretends to be the grand ruler of heaven on the throne of heaven, but the throne is just a chair in a repurposed office, and he does nothing to actually rule... he’s basically an evil Don Quixote that thinks of himself as a noble knight but is actually a useless, violent dude.

I’d say that the clash in registers in the exorcism scene parallels the clash in registers in the scene about the porn stars: a high register (the whole “Enochian writings on the wall” that give a solemn angelic vibe, Sam’s speech about making the world a better place and Gabriel being needed) is juxtaposed to the low registers of the mentions of the porn stars in Monte Carlo.

This parallel juxtaposes Lucifer and Gabriel to show their difference - Gabriel has always used farcical humor as his modus operandi, it’s part of how he normally acts, and it does not chip away to his dignity at all. He used porn to help stop the apocalypse! He weaponizes the farcical and the low, he draws power out of it. On the other hand, dignity is exactly what Lucifer pretends to have but doesn’t. He’s no better or more dignified than the lowly demon that he calls a “total nobody”, he just likes to think he is.

In short, the feeling I get is that Gabriel - even in a traumatized state, barely holding it together, because that’s what he’s doing, even when he appears to be better - controls the registers (of course his farewell to Asmodeus is a mocking one-liner about his suit*), with Lucifer the thing just happens around him, until he pretty much loses control and destroys the priests out of annoyance.

*There’s also a parallel between the two mentions of suits in the episode: Lucifer is annoyed because the priests threw holy water at his suit (“It’s a new suit, thank you very much”), Gabriel says the line about Asmodeus’ dumbass suit. Again, it highlights the difference between the two - Gabriel is in control even if he’s barely holding it together, Lucifer isn’t in control even when he technically holds all the power.

- Use words, use the correct ones

I am not going to spend too many words on the theme that has been discussed to Mars and back over the season so far - we know what’s going on, the show is setting a narrative about the fact that you need to say things and you need to say them correctly. The Gabriel arc so far has been a blatant mirror for the whole narrative: first his mouth is sewn, then he chooses not to talk due to his trauma (hello, 1x03) but writes everything down (I also found interesting that Sam is like, why isn’t he talking to us, when Gabriel just filled the entire room walls with communication - he’s being nonverbal but he’s communicating, Sam dumbass, no offense) and eventually starts talking again... by immediately correcting Sam’s language. Sam uses the wrong word to refer to Gabriel’s sexual companions in Monte Carlo: Gabriel wrote about porn stars, Sam referred to them as hookers, and, well, the difference is substantial. Again, words are not interchangeable (especially, I might add, when we’re talking about sexual or romantic partners, or potential partners, right?).

Now, going back to the previous part of this post - many people have talked about the usage of the “we need you, I need you” line in the scene ever since the sneak peek was released, but the sneak peek didn’t show a fundamental part of the scene: the fact that the “noble” speech is sandwiched between mentions of the porn stars in Monte Carlo. That gives a sort of farcical aspect to Sam’s speech, purposely ‘lowering’ it from the ‘high’ register of the 8x17 quote. There is a dramatic irony in play there - Sam is moving in a high register (both on an intradiegetic level, i.e. what Sam is doing, and on an extradiegetic level, i.e. the 8x17 parallel the audience sees), but other elements in the situation make that register appear inappropriate and ridiculous. So it’s not a “copy” of the Destiel scene - it’s a sort of semi-dark parody of it.

Now, I am not going to dwell much on Gabriel as a parallel for Dean’s and Sam’s issues with talking about sensitive things, because we get it (interesting that Dean had no issues communicating about sensitive things with Ketch and Charlie, right? I wonder what that could mean), so let me digress a bit from the actual topic of the post to add a thing that fits in the picture.

- And while we’re talking about distinctions...

The episode does not only tackle the usual topic of using the right words. It also subtly reminds us of an old little theme, the distinction between familial love (in particular between siblings) and romantic love. (Do you think there’s a bit of making fun of the fandom panic that occurs when a female character is cast and people assume it’s a love interest for Dean, like it happened before Charlie’s first episode aired? Probably not, but I like to think there’s a little dig at the fandom panic thing here, lol.)

As Dean expresses strong feelings about Charlie, Ketch hypothesizes that she was a girlfriend of Dean’s. Later, Charlie basically has a moment of alarm when Dean tells her that they were “very” friends and she suspects that might mean a relationship. In both cases, Dean specifies that it wasn’t the case - he explains to Ketch that Charlie was like a sister to him, and reassures Charlie her alternate version wasn’t straight. But we know that Charlie’s sexuality matters relatively to the nature of her and Dean’s relationship, because even if she had been bisexual or straight, Dean saw her a sister, not someone he couldn’t have sexually or romantically because of her sexuality. So we’re reminded again of the distinct line between sibling love and romantic/sexual love. I wonder what that could mean...

- Sam and Gabriel and duty

Let’s return to Gabriel’s initial inability to speak (first physical, then psychological). Of course, it’s not just a parallel to Dean, but to Sam too. Ho ho, Sam. As usual, Sam explicits the “parallels” he sees between himself and the person he’s interacting with (there are some interesting posts out there about Sam’s way of sympathizing with others by drawing a comparison between his own experiences and the other person’s, or, at least, what he understands of the other person’s experiences though the lenses of his own), and he projects on Gabriel what he needs to believe about his own situation. Eventually... he doesn’t work. Sure, we know that Gabriel will change his mind about the situation and join the team, but we can reasonably expect that he’ll need more motivation (a different kind of motivation?) than Sam’s speech about himself and their supposed parallels. Sam also only mentions the “safe” old story of his retirement from hunting, and doesn’t touch his own inability to speak about his trauma (yes he did it with Rowena but he explicitly said he can’t do it with the people who really matter, i.e. Dean).

While we’re talking about this scene - the speech about making the world a better place, what he was “put here” to do, doesn’t work, and is in fact a little terrifying by looking at Sam through the lens of it. “What I was put here to do” empties his entire life of choice, and it’s an extremely meaningful piece of insight into Sam’s mind - he does not really conceive his life if not in terms of accepting or refusing a course of action. There doesn’t seem to be a concept of building his own course, but to accept the one that he’s supposed to follow or to reject it. He tells Gabriel that he chose it out of duty, basically - “rubbish”, Ketch calls duty shortly later. This season also has a theme about duty, about the fact that making life choices based on duty (duty alone) is bad. And this scene with Sam talking to Gabriel seems to tell us that Sam’s entire life course is only based on a sense of duty, because he conceives things as embracing the role written for him or reject it altogether, and duty obviously calls for the first.

We’re going to keep a close eye on Sam and Gabriel and how the progressions of their stories parallel each other. At the end of the day, it’s the same old issue: Sam doesn’t like his life, but he considers it a burden he has to shoulder...