#'slow burn' i said

[yuki2sksksk]

Visualizing a draft scene of the next chapter for Buddy-Guard

[aventurineswife]

Sunday had always carried himself with an air of calm detachment, but tonight, in the quiet stillness of the Astral Express, there was something different in his demeanor. The weight he usually bore with stoic grace seemed to dissolve, leaving only a man—flawed, yearning, and far too human.

The private quarters were dimly lit, the golden glow of his halo casting shifting shadows on the walls. You stood before him, uncertain but unable to look away as his gaze—those irises marked by navy pupils—lingered on you with a rare intensity. His wings twitched, feathers ruffling slightly, betraying the emotions he fought to contain.

“You don’t have to stay,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, like a breeze carrying secrets. But even as he said it, his hand lingered at your wrist, his thumb brushing against your pulse.

“And leave you like this?” you whispered, tilting your head. “Sunday… I want to stay.”

His composure faltered, and for a moment, the mask slipped. His lips parted as if to protest, but the words died before they could form. Instead, he took a slow step closer, the soft fabric of his scarf brushing against you as his proximity stole the air between you both.

“Then let me be selfish,” he said, the words trembling on the edge of a plea.

His hands cupped your face with a tenderness that felt almost reverent, his touch as light as the flutter of his wings. When his lips met yours, it was hesitant at first, like a man unsure if he deserved this solace. But as you leaned into him, matching his hesitance with quiet assurance, the kiss deepened, blossoming into something neither of you could deny.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the energy of his halo crackling faintly in the charged air. His gloves were cast aside, and the bare touch of his hands trailing down your sides sent a shiver through you. Each caress felt deliberate, a silent promise carried in every movement.

“Tell me,” he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Tell me this is real. That I’m not lost in a dream again.”

“It’s real,” you assured him, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m here, and so are you.”

His forehead rested against yours, golden eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Finding none, he exhaled, his tension melting into something softer, more vulnerable. He guided you to the bed with a gentleness that spoke of a man afraid to break something precious, every touch imbued with a care that made your heart ache.

Under his touch, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you—no past, no guilt, no lingering pain. Just Sunday, unguarded and whole, and you, willing to show him he could be loved not as a symbol or savior but as himself.

And in that quiet night, amid whispered confessions and shared warmth, Sunday allowed himself to believe it.

Please don't check the tags, I'm too embarrassed at myself... 🧍‍♀️😔🙏

[mobius-m-mobius]

#just a wizard gentleman and his butler 🪄🎩

[chialattea]

whenever I feel sad I just sketch these guys to cheer me up,,, have a sketchdump,,,

[sophiethewitch1]

we've read about dick and tim being pathetic, but I wanna know the strange, stoic way Damian would be pathetic for reader if you're up for it :) I love your writing!!!

Points at camera like I'm on a gameshow! You, dear reader are lucky you came to the right blog!!!

So, we all know what cats are like when they like someone, right?? Just, following them around constantly. They don't want pets, they don't want to get picked up, they just want to watch you from a distance of five to twenty feet. Anyway, that's Damian!

He's in love with you, he needs you, he wants to keep you, but he has his pride!! Well, for a while at least. He's clingy, of course but he just... pretends he isn't?? It doesn't really work after the first few times. Pressing kisses to your forehead and holding your hand. And he'll do it while he's glaring at you.

Now, if you break up with him or reject him, you are going to see true brattiness. Monstrously bratty. How dare you? How dare you think you can leave him, reject him? He's the heir to the Al Ghul and Wayne dynasties. He gives you everything. And you don't accept it?

...Okay, you thought he'd stomp off after that. He's not leaving?? He's just... sitting outside your house...?? Why the hell is he glaring at you through your window???? It's not your fault????? Damian, however, is absolutely certain it is your fault. He will sit there through rain and snow, deliver you gifts and takeout, and wait sadly and grumpily till you take him back. And I thought he was impatient!

Unfortunately, while you saw him as a cat, he thought the same with you. While you see him as tame, he thinks of you as some wild alley cat that needs to be caught for it's own good. He just needs to slowly acclimate you to him and you guys will be right as rain. Maybe some treats will make you like him more? He'll figure it out, that he's confident of. Don't tell him he's being silly, you will just make things worse.

[mt07131]

You're impossible. But in a good way? It's what I love about you.

[hyakunana]

Encounter V — Reverse Boost

+

[i-suc-at-art]

Ummm.. I really love this fic

*hands @basilf1res this gently*

Any ways go read project “GH05T” it’s really good :)

[mintjeru]

it probably wasn't the smartest decision to start an ongoing 1000+ chapter webnovel when i know it'll consume my every waking thought but here we are

open for better quality | no reposts

[sualne]

modern au relationships chart

[vaguely-concerned]

even at this point in the story and with the romance well and truly confirmed it's very possible that lucanis has never seen even a sliver of rye's naked skin below the throat. very likely no one on the team has yet except possibly emmrich if rye got hurt in battle and needed help patching it up. high-necked watcher garb with gloves and all stay ON at all times. thank god for rye's sake that lucanis' history of romantic interest indicates that surprise bitch he could be kind of into that fhsdkjfas

[godstrayed]

gently demanding & requesting slow burn ships for ANY of my muses.

listen, i got every flavor & variety possible. you can either send a meme with who you'd like & i will write the starter! OR you can give this a ♡ meaning i will send YOU a meme (so long as you got a meme tag) with who i think will/would be interesting to try.

small disclaimers: ships with chemistry only but i can basically make MOST stuff work. we can discuss more or plot more if needed as well. but i am in a very go with the flow mood rn.

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (9)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: I apologize if this chapter is a bit messy, but answers are coming soon! This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-writes @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie

Your phone rings in your pocket. A little flustered, you pat your pockets for your phone with your free hand. Annoyance flashes in Jade’s eyes as he prepares to let go of your hand, but you curl your fingers in his grasp and hold onto him while you fish up your phone. His body stiffens.

“Oh, it’s Floyd.” The call cuts off just as you’re about to answer it. He’s so impatient. A string of texts pop up on your screen. “He needs me right now for . . . something? He’s being super vague.”

Jade doesn’t respond. You snap your fingers in front of his wide eyes.

“Jade? Hello?”

He blinks once, twice. “Oh. Yes. Floyd.”

“Yes, Floyd. He wants me to go back for something. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He intertwines his fingers with yours and holds them gently by your sides. His skin feels as soothingly cool as ever. “Shall we go?”

“Actually, Floyd wants me to go alone this time.” The texts he sent are rather adamant about it. You aren’t sure what requires this degree of secrecy. “It might be important?”

“If it’s important, I don’t see why I should be kept in the dark.” His grip tightens on your hand, just enough to be firm, not overbearing. “I’m sure he can be convinced.”

“I guess you’re right. I can’t really think of why he doesn’t want you to know.”

“Whatever it is, I know of it now, so I may as well tag along.”

He’s so stubborn. Just as you concede, you get a call from Azul. You pick up with growing curiosity. Azul right after Floyd?

“What’s the matter?”

Azul’s voice sounds strained. “Can you go back to the twins’ residence? There’s a problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

A pause. “Is Jade with you?”

Mutual understanding fills the space between you as you make eye contact with Jade.

“No, he isn’t. Why?”

“Floyd just—wait—”

The sound of shattering glass. The line goes dead.

You grip Jade’s hand. “Let’s go. Should I call a taxi?”

“No.” He presses a kiss to your fingers again. Before you can even process that, he lets go. His cool touch lingers on your skin. “The sea is faster.”

He shrugs off his blazer, then unbuttons his waistcoat. The expensive clothes drop onto the sand in his haste. His fingers make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. They open in succession in a way that mimics drawing back silk curtains on a canopy bed, revealing his collarbones, bare chest, solid abs, all awash in red and gold tones of the setting sun—

You look away. There’s no need to watch the process of his transformation into his mer-form. Of course not. Certainly not when it’s causing sweat to gather under your collar. Focus. You need to clear your mind and prepare yourself for what might have happened at the mansion. That’s right, focus—

“You may look if you’d like.” His shadow overlaps yours. Cold fingers tangle around your own, capturing you like tendrils of seaweed snagging a hapless diver. His voice coos in your ear and seeps into your mind. “I would not mind it. Merfolk are not squeamish about nudity the way land-dwellers are.”

You swallow hard, but it does nothing to help the heat starting to emanate from your cheeks. It’s strange. You’ve seen the twins shirtless before, many times. Neither of them are shy about it—in some ways, they actually prefer it. You just haven’t ever seen them in the process of taking off clothes. The way fabric slides away to reveal skin, the way his nimble fingers slip the buttons out of place . . . .

“Too bad I’m a squeamish land-dweller. Hurry up! We need to get there quickly.”

“As you wish.”

He squeezes your hand lightly. Before he can let go, however, a shriek pierces the air.

You whirl around. Standing in the middle of the deserted beach, the dying sun lighting her hair up in fiery shades, is (Y/N).

Panic is the first thing that shoots through your heart. She wasn’t supposed to see you for the duration of the story. But maybe this is just a minor scene that won’t affect the major plot? It can’t be. Her features twist into an ugly glare you have never seen on her before, a nasty expression you weren’t even aware she was capable of making. It tamps down whatever relief or hope you might’ve had from seeing her again after several weeks.

“(Y/N)?” Something ice cold grips your heart. You step towards her. Why did she scream? Is she alright? Is she hurt? Did something scare her? You scan your surroundings. The three of you are alone on the beach. No external threats. You need to make sure she’s alright. You need to find out why she’s glaring at you like she wants to rip out your heart. You need to go back to the mansion. You need to help Floyd and Azul. There are too many things pulling you in different directions. Your thoughts go haywire. Who do you go to? Who do you prioritize? What’s most important here?

Who do you care about more?

A tug on your hand snaps you back to reality.

“Go,” he says, placing himself in front of you. You stare at the hills and valleys of the muscles on his back. “Call a taxi. I’ll take care of this situation.”

You don’t even know what “this situation” is. (Y/N) is livid, and her glare is aimed at you. She points at you, storming over with a wild look in her eyes. You flinch. It is the first time you have ever seen her like this. She is sweet and mellow, kind and caring, never one to radiate hatred. This is not her nature. This is not the (Y/N) she is supposed to be—no, this is not the (Y/N) you have come to know.

“You!” Poison drips from her voice and sears your eardrums. “So you’re the one who’s been fucking everything up! It’s all ruined because of you! Everything. Everything. It’s all because of you!”

“Go,” Jade urges, releasing your hand. You stay rooted to the spot.

What is she saying? What did you ruin? Guilt tears at your chest. Why is she so angry at you? She’s your best friend. Your best friend can’t hate you.

“You’re the bitch who’s been fucking up the plot. I did so much to get here, and you’re making it all useless! Get out! Just disappear! This was supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be exactly as I wanted. This time, everything is supposed to go my way!”

The plot? She knows about that? But how? Does she also have a copy of the manuscript? You’ve been doing everything you can to make sure things follow the plot. Is she talking about something completely different? Things are moving too fast for you to think everything through. There’s an alien glint in her eyes. Something more than anger. Something murderous. She lunges for you, only to be stopped by Jade as he steps between you two.

“Don’t touch her.” His firm voice chills the air. She freezes on the spot, looking like she was slapped across the face.

“What? No. No, no, no. You’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to say I’m right, no matter what. Why are you defending her?” She pulls at her hair and hunches over. “He was right. You aren’t following the story at all. You’re supposed to love me. You’re supposed to be madly in love with me! Why? What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with all of you?”

You step forward, half of you wanting to do anything at all to comfort her. The other half screams at you to hurry back to the mansion. You’re still torn. The scene is a sand castle, and it’s crumbling in your hands faster than you can put it back together.

She throws her head back, staring at the sky, before pinning her gaze on you. “It’s all your fault. Who the fuck are you to come here and seduce my Jade? You’re just an extra. You don’t even have a name. You’re just Friend A! You’re a useless side character who doesn’t even matter after a couple pages. Who do you think you are?”

Jade’s fingers curl into fists. His voice thins with his patience. “That is enough. Shut your mouth before I carve it off of you.”

Tears fill her bloodshot eyes. “What are you saying? You’re in love with me. That’s no way to talk to me, and you know it. You love me. You’d do anything for me. Right? Say I’m right. Say I’m right, Jade!”

You can’t see his face. You’re honestly glad for it. (Y/N) reacts to his expression with a recoil of genuine fear.

“You must be mistaken. I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”

Tears stream down her face. She tries to grasp his arms, only for him to smack her hands away. She cradles her hand against her chest and bites her lip so hard it starts to bleed.

“You don’t love me? You’re lying. The story says you should love me. Why don’t you love me? You’re being cruel, Jade. You’re supposed to be sweet to me. I’m the only one you’re supposed to care about! Love me. Love me, love me, love me, love me!”

She screeches, a bone-chilling cry that slices the evening air. You step towards her, brushing past Jade’s protective arm. Her gaze focuses on you. Just as you get close enough, she lunges for your throat. Her nails touch your skin. And your surroundings burst into brilliant white light.

White.

There’s nothing here.

Just white space.

N

o

t 

h 

i 

n 

g.

And suddenly, there’s something.

You blink rapidly as you find yourself in a small, cozy room. A warm, crackling fireplace casts warm light over soft fabrics and old furniture, contrasted against silvery moonlight spilling in from a large window. Bookshelves stretch from floor to ceiling. Knit blankets drape over throw pillows and two armchairs, one of them occupied. You shift into a defensive stance and your Signature Spell envelops your body on instinct.

A middle-aged man raises his head. There’s something odd about him. His clothes are outdated, his demeanour too calm. His thin frame and mild-mannered smile makes him seem like less of a threat, but you know better than to underestimate anyone.

“Good evening,” he says, folding his hands in his lap. “I apologize for the abrupt intervention, and I hope you are not too confused from your trip here.”

“Who are you? Where am I?” It seems like he’s the one who brought you here. What was that bright light earlier? A teleportation spell? What about Jade, (Y/N), Azul, and Floyd? “Actually, don’t answer that. Send me back. Right now.”

“I understand your distress, but I think we are due for a conversation. Why don’t you join me for a cup of tea? As one close to you might note, a soothing cup of tea will help you relax.”

There’s already tea on the table. Only now do you realize it smells of lavender. Was it always there?

“I’m not drinking or eating anything you give me. Send me back.”

“Goodness, young people are so hasty. There is much to the world that you may only learn of when you slow down. I’d expect you, out of all the characters, to agree with me.”

“Characters?” Your shoulders tense. He also knows about the story. “Tell me what you know.”

He gestures to the armchair across from him. “Please take a seat. This may take quite some time, and as it is rather far outside what you may consider to be your realm of possibility, please suspend your disbelief. You may believe what you choose to. I, for one, promise to you that everything I say is the truth.”

You curl up into the armchair, eyes never leaving him. He promised you answers, and you’re willing to hear him out. No matter what manner of strange things he says, you’ll parse the truth of the matter out of it.

“Well, now, how shall I begin?” He takes a sip of tea, the scent of lavender mixing with the smoky scent of the fireplace. “Let me first explain to you the setting, as any good story may start. This world that you live in, your existence, as well as the existence of everyone else in your life—all of this is part of a story. And I am a . . . hm, how exactly shall I phrase it? I suppose to characters like you, my existence is somewhat similar to a god.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 6

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Even though he's expecting company, Eddie still jumps and yelps when his front door flies open without so much as a knock, revealing Dustin and Will.

"I know I said to let yourselves in, but a warning knock would have been nice," Eddie shoots them a glare, not bothering to stand from the couch where he'd been pretending to watch whatever terrible daytime movie was playing.

"Sorry," Will apologizes sheepishly while Dustin just laughs.

"Which of your moms dropped you off? If it's Claudia, I'm filing a complaint about how you were raised."

"Har har," Dustin says, swinging his backpack off and knelling down to unzip and dig into it. "We biked here."

"Lucky you, then. The complaint will wait."

Dustin wrestles a blanket from his backpack. Unwrapping it reveals Steve, hair rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Alright. Delivered safely. We gotta go meet El and Mike now but we'll see you on Saturday, right?"

Eddie sets Steve on the couch, angled towards the TV. "Yeah. I get the feeling if I don't show for the barbeque that Joyce will show up here and drag me there by my ear."

"She would," Will confirms with an easy shrug. The boys turn to leave before Will exclaims, "Oh! Almost forgot!" before digging into his pocket for something, turning around to give it to Eddie.

"What?"

"El and Steve spoke again. He had a lot of things to say. I spent a good portion of the last three days writing down everything as El repeated it to me. This is your letter," he says, having successfully pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Oh," Eddie takes it, and realizes it's not just one folded piece of paper, but three. "Wow."

"Seems you are Steve's second favorite," Dustin grins at him from the doorway.

"You are first, I assume?"

"No. Robin is. She got five pages."

That tracks, actually. Eddie's not surprised Robin got the most pages.

Soon enough, the boys are off and Eddie returns to the couch, pulling his legs up to sit crisscross. "Alright, Stevie, let's see what you have to say."

He unfolds the pages completely and is met with Will's now familiar penmanship scrawled across the sheets of wide rule paper that has clearly been ripped from a composition notebook. He's seen Will's handwriting plenty over this last year, quickly scribbling notes during DnD sessions and on the little item cards Will makes himself to hand out when he DMs.

Will's handwriting isn't always the neatest, but this looks like Will took time, wanted his writing to be legible. Flipping through the papers he sees it is two pages, front and back, of a letter, and the third page is a list of questions in a different, neater handwriting. He gets the feeling that Will probably didn't paraphrase anything. How many people got letters? How much of Will and El's time was devoted to doing just this?

Eddie feels emotional over this, misty-eyed and a lump in his throat, and he hasn't even read the damn letter yet.

"Shit, Stevie, do you even realize how loved you are?" Eddie asks out loud, turning to look at Porcelain Steve like he might answer him this time. Blank hazel eyes stare forward. Eddie shakes his head, to clear away his thoughts, and gets to reading. Not out loud, because he doesn't want Steve to hear how wet his voice will sound.

Eddie,

I guess the first thing I want to say is thank you. I was kind of freaking out when I first woke up like this. It was calming, that day on the lawn, after Robin and Nancy found me. You were so chill and just chatted my ear off like you would have if I were, like, there. I mean, there there and not like, doll-there, if you get what I mean.

Shit, man, being stuck like this would have been a hell of a lot worse without you, I'm certain. Everyone's been great, of course, and, like, no offense meant, Will and El, but you act most normal. Helps me feel, well, I don't know how, exactly. Describing emotions is not something I'm like, good at. Robin's great, too, but she catastrophizes, you know? And since I can't speak back, she can get herself pretty worked up about this and I hate that. Hate that I can't do anything to help her.

Shit. This isn't your issue. Don't include that. No, wait, do. Sorry, El. (It is here, off in the margin, that Will has added 'I wrote everything word for word. Enjoy the asides to El and me.) Hanging out with you helps her, I think. She seems less anxious on days we spend with you. So, I guess, I also want to thank you for that. For being there for Robin when I can't.

Eddie has to pause there because he had no idea. Robin has been a grounding force for him this whole time. He had no idea he was doing the same for her. She never said, or let on... well, that was probably her goal and now Steve's spilled the beans.

This is getting easier to say, even if I still don't know how to feel about the other two people who are going to be privy to everything said, or I guess from your end, written here. (Here, Will has transcribed a conversation they seemed to have had in the middle of writing this up.) Oh. He means us. - El Yes. Don't worry Steve, we'll do our best to forget everything you've said once it's written down. - Will Steve laughed and says thanks. - El I appreciate that but- well, being honest there's some things I want to say but I don't want anyone else to hear. Those conversations are better left face to face, anyway. So, uhh, what else did I want to say?

Oh! Yeah, I told Robin she could drive around the Bimmer, so she can have a car while I'm- so she doesn't have to bike everywhere but knowing her she probably won't take me up on that offer. Maybe you can talk her into it? Or, maybe she'll be willing to drive your van around and you can take the bimmer.

"Jesus, Stevie, can't you just be okay with existing?" Eddie says it under his breath and tenses instantly. For a moment, he forgot that Steve was right there on the couch with him, could hear him. Now he has to explain himself because Steve's already heard, and without the context of how Eddie really means those words, they can sound judgmental. "Shit. Sorry. I just read the part about your car and, dude, you just don't know how to not try and be helpful, huh? I bet it's destroying you on the inside that you can't do anything. But Steve, you gotta know, we don't care about you because you're useful."

Steve, of course, can't reply, so Eddie goes back to the letter.

Uh, what else was there? Oh! Yeah! I don't get migraines here. Or, in this body? Or, whatever it is. I haven't had one since this happened. Also, no hearing issues. Though I find myself wishing to be completely deaf sometimes. I get that Max can listen to Kate Bush for a week straight, but I'd like a little variety. God, what I wouldn't give to listen to the Top 40 again. Don't say anything, Munson. I can already see your judgmental face at my music taste. Unlike you, I have the ability to like multiple types of music. The Top 40 AND that one song from, uhh, shit. Might not have migraines or hearing issues at the moment, but the memory is still as it was. Which means it is shit. That one song by that metal band where their name sounds like it's metal? You know who I mean. (In the margin, Will has just written five little question marks in a row ?????)

"The band you were thinking of, it's Metallica," Eddie says.

Not important. But, uh, the reason for telling you this. I was hoping you might smuggle me to a show the next time your band plays at the Hideout? Last time I tried to go it was too loud and gave me a migraine, you remember, but I think that I could listen to your whole show like this. We might as well take advantage of the perks of this shit situation, right? So, uh, I wouldn't mind if you did that. Or, like, had Robin or someone else bring me. Whichever.

Actually, wait, I lied, I do care which way. I've already had them pen down Robin's letter, so you'll have to pass this on, but I want Robin to take me. So, I can also watch the show, not just listen. That was the part I liked most, when I went last time, before I had to leave. Wait. Scratch that. Ask Argyle. Other than you, he seems like the only person willing to be caught holding me in public, mostly because I don't think he even knows how to be embarrassed. Jesus that was such a weird sentence to say. Holding me in public. Such a weird thing to experience, too.

Uh, anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for everything, Eddie.

"I think you're handling this loss of bodily autonomy rather well, Steve. This letter is a lot more positive than the one I would have written if our roles were reversed," Eddie says with a sigh. He can't help but wonder what Steve would have said in this letter if it hadn't had to be filtered through two teenagers first.

He looks to the last page, the list of questions, and is surprised to see that, mixed in with questions about which sports team is winning (he is not going to watch Sportsball for Steve. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it. He will ask Wayne about it later and hate the glee he sees in his uncle's eyes because now he's going to have to pretend to like sports for the unforeseeable future) and for honest updates about their friends are questions about Eddie's campaign that he's rambled on about since Steve can't escape. Steve wants spoilers, wants to know what Eddie has planned.

Steve has actually been listening. He'd been operating on the assumption Steve just tunes him out when he gets going, unable to stop his brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his current campaign.

"I'm at your list of questions now. I can't answer anything about sports, and don't think I'm unaware of how you asked me and not Lucas. I see what you are doing and I'm not going to fall for it. So, your first non-sportsball question here; How is Dustin doing, really? Well, that's a whole thing but overall, okay."

[chirpsythismorning]

I’m gonna be right there beside milevens cheering if there is leaks about casting for a young male teen, presumed by fans to be Will’s love interest, but for different reasons 😅

[sophiethewitch1]

How would each of the batboys react after doing the "forbidden tango" with their "sister"?

probably need to clear this up, but the weird not incest thing isn't going to be a central theme in this fic. Like it's there, but other than Dick and a very resigned Bruce everybody absolutely doesn't care. Also BIG spoiler here but

They will be finding out that you're not actually their version of 'you'. This will probably make Dick cry from relief. And by the time the smut does actually happen... they will have much bigger problems than the not a step sister thing.