#brotherly love or some shit

[shrimpalbuspotter]

Albus making eye contact with James Sirius in a crowd of laughing students after he was just WINDED by Karl Jenkins and is currently fighting for his life on the hall floor

James Sirius about to comically whistle and look around them then begin muttering something about "how wonderful the walls look today, does Hogwarts have a skin care routine?" before not at all inconspicuously bolting in the other direction

[semi-automaticlonelyboy]

man i need more green day friends/mutuals to talk to regularly 😭😭😭

of the 2 i have, one hyperfixates on them when the moon is in the right place and the stars align, and the other……….. the other i had to explain who henry pissenger was and why i was happy that old fuck bit the dust snnfjdjjfjdj (plus other things said friend has done/said that are. not okay)

pls. pretty pls someone

[orimuraa]

── ⋆⋅ ⩩ The sweetest love out there - Lee Heeseung 𝜗𝜚 the cutest pair - regina song

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰����𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆ever since you were young, you were always admiring heeseung. he was your older brother's best friend, meaning, he took care of you like you were his own sister. but deep down, behind on all those fake smiles, you knew there was something more to your feelings. so when you find out that you’re attending the same college as heeseung, he's more than thrilled to see you there, but now he has a girlfriend?

or

falling in love with your brother's best friend never ends well, but maybe you could change that ⨾

۶ৎ brother's best friend!heeseung x fem!reader┆angst, fluff┆heeseung is 3 years older than reader┆jake is reader's brother┆crying, cursing, petnames, kissing, everyone is emotionally constipated

featuring: enhypen hyung line, ricky from zb1, winter from aespa, sullyoon from nmixx

wc. 3k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: umm...big work...heh... >.< please share feedback and reblog if you enjoyed !!! mwah~

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

from the ripe age of 5, you knew that you were in love. in love with the sweet boy who always waited for you because your little legs walked slower than everyone else's, the caring boy who would bandage up your scraped knees every time you fell, and the loving boy who would always be the first to congratulate you on your accomplishments before your own brother or parents could.

lee heeseung was the boy you were in love with. your brother's best friend.

your brother was sim jaeyun or jake, and he was 3 years older than you, meaning that heeseung was too. heeseung's mom was best friends with you and jake's mom and your families were also neighbors!

so, when jake would have his friends over, you couldn't stop your little heart from beating faster at the sight of heeseung.

every gentle moment you had with him whether it was when he brought over your favorite snacks, helped babysit you with jake, or even null you to sleep whenever you had trouble falling asleep, made your love for him grow.

you were 8 when you realized that it wasn't just a sisterly love you had for him like you had for jake. no, it was real love. the type that your parents had and the type that you saw on tv shows that heeseung would cover your eyes for.

you loved him. but you doubted he loved you in any shape of form besides his brotherly love for you.

———

the day you turned 13, officially entering your teen years, heeseung wasn’t there.

he had gone out partying with some high school friends and you assumed he would rather be there than celebrating with you.

you were heartbroken. the boy you had loved for 8 years couldn’t even bother showing up to one of your life milestones.

you cried the entire party in the corner and jake just sat next to you, rubbing circles on your back.

jake had no idea what had gotten you so upset but he had assumed it had to do something with his best friend not being there.

at some time around 10pm, there was an urgent knock on the door right as you were getting ready to go to bed, already concluding that heeseung forgot entirely about you.

as you curled up in your bed, the covers protecting you from any more sadness, you heard jake’s voice and the sound of the door opening.

“dude, what are you doing here?” jake whisper shouted.

“fuck, dude, i- where’s y/n?” heeseung. heeseung was here.

“she’s already asleep,” you heard jake answer. you wanted to scream that you weren’t but something told you to just stay in your bed.

“shit, i fucked up didn’t i? was she upset?” heeseung sighed, sounding a bit cautious.

“pshh, that’s an understatement. she was absolutely devastated. she cried the whole day and nobody knew why,” jake tsked, a bit of irritation laced into his voice.

“can…can i see her?” heeseung asked, hesitation clear in his voice.

and at that, you threw the comforter over your head and turned you back against the door. a part of you didn’t want anything to do with heeseung for now. but deep down, there was also a part of you that really wanted to see him.

you weren’t exactly sure why you were so upset, but you just wanted heeseung to be there.

jay and sunghoon showed up and celebrated with you, so why couldn’t heeseung?

you heard soft footsteps approaching and you immediately knew who it was.

“y/n?” his voice was soft as it called out for you, almost as if you were made of porcelain and if he spoke any louder, it would break you.

you turned hesitantly, letting your feelings get in the way of your initial anger.

there, heeseung was kneeling beside your bed, his bambi eyes full of regret and guilt.

“hi ynnie..” he smiled softly, brushing your bangs out of your face gently.

“i’m so sorry princess, i’m so sorry,” he whispered resting his head on your mattress.

“did you forget?” your voice came out so quiet that you could barely even hear the words coming out of your mouth.

“no, shit, i- i didn’t forget..i just…” heeseung stuttered.

“i promise i won’t ever forget again. and i’m so sorry i hurt you on your big day ynnie, i never meant to and i just got carried away..” he sighed.

no more words needed to be exchanged. you knew that heeseung was being sincere and how could you not forgive him?

and from that day on, you seemed to love him just a little more.

———

the day heeseung left for college had you devastated. yes, jake was also leaving and so was jay and sunghoon, but heeseung leaving would mean that you would never have a chance with heeseung.

your feelings grew stronger and stronger and that made heeseung’s departure even harder than it was supposed to to be.

the love you have had your whole life was leaving. your brother figures who stuck with you your whole life were leaving.

as jake and heeseung packed up there bags into the car, you couldn’t help but stare mindlessly at heeseung one last time.

sure, jake and his friends were only moving to seoul, but living all the way in daegu added quite a bit of distance between you and the boys.

“hey..i’m not gonna go too far, okay? we’ll all be back for the holidays and summer and before you know it, you’ll be joining us too,” heeseung said, cheering you up slightly.

“don’t cry, m’kay? i can’t bear to leave you crying like this,” heeseung laughed lightly, wiping away a tear on your cheek with his thumb.

you sucked in a breath before throwing your arms around his neck, trying to hold back your tears.

“i’m gonna be so lonely when you all leave,” you hiccup into his shoulder, breathing in his cologne one last time.

“noo, you’ll have minjeong here with you and i’m sure you’ll make plenty of other friends, better than all of us stinky boys,” he smiles, scrunching up his nose.

“i’ll see you around the holidays ynnie,” he says, ruffling your hair before walking back to the car where jake was waiting.

that was 3 years ago. only jake came back for the holidays as the other boys had bought a shared house in seoul and you guess they never wanted to really come back.

jake told you all the updates and how college life was. but he decided that he wouldn’t mention heeseung’s name because he didn’t want to make you sad.

but now, 3 years later, you were finally heading off to seoul university yourself, along with your best friends ricky and minjeong.

it had been a while since you last saw or thought about heeseung to be honest.

you had pushed your feelings to the back of your mind after the summer he never came home. you knew that he had probably gotten a girlfriend and a better life by now so what was the point of still pining for him?

jake helped you move into your apartment that you were gonna share with ricky and minjeong a couple weeks before college started.

you wanted to get a feel for the town and the campus so you and your friends made a plan to come down to seoul early and hang out before all the stress of school work.

but what you weren’t expecting was to see lee fucking heeseung at your door.

———

“ynnie! someone’s at the door could you go get it? i’m trynna cook dinner!” you heard minjeong yell from the kitchen.

“yep! thanks minnie!” you answer back before skipping to the door.

you expected some of your packages but you did not expect lee heeseung at your door.

“h-heseung??” you stutter, taking a couple steps back in shock.

he had grown into his features way more and he no longer had that justin bieber styled hair. instead, his hair was nicely parted and his ears were pierced, making him so much finer than you remember.

“hi y/n…”he smiled sheepishly, knowing exactly why he should be guilty.

it’s funny how promises work, because they never last. heeseung once promised you that he would never forget about you. but here you were, standing in your college apartment with lee heeseung in your door way 3 years too late.

“you never fucking came back,” you muttered, tears threatening to fall. “you said you would be back with jake every holiday. where were you then, huh?” you jabbed, each word stabbing heeseung in the heart.

he said nothing. he just hung his head low, knowing that you had the right to be mad at him for leaving you behind.

“i know, i know nothing will fix that but i promise you that it was for a good reason. i just…i just couldn’t come back…it was just too hard..” heeseung said, partially lying. in truth, he stayed away because the minute he left you, he knew that he had more than just normal feelings towards you.

he wanted to stay away. to leave those feelings in the dust and never let anyone know. and now, he couldn’t bear to tell you that that was the reason of him never coming back.

“i missed you every summer, every holiday heeseung,” you said, silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

“i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry for it all,” he mumbled, pulling you into an embrace.

“so much has changed..you’ve changed,” you cried, pulling away to look at him, a bitter laugh leaving your lips.

“so have you,” he smiled. he didn’t expect to see you all grown up now. you were a beautiful young lady now and not the adorable little kid he used to look out for. no longer his best friend’s baby sister.

———

when school started, you always saw heeseung in the hallways, and you always saw him with this girl. her name was sullyoon and she was so pretty.

it made your heart ache every time you saw her laughing with heeseung, but you never saw heeseung laugh back. he always had this spaced out look on his face, almost like he was never actually paying attention to her.

it wasn’t until you heard from a classmate that you learned that sullyoon was heeseung’s girlfriend. you assumed she was but given how long you had loved him, you just didn’t want to believe it.

heeseung was avoiding you for whatever reason and he would always turn the opposite way whenever he saw you in the hallways.

but seeing heeseung in your daily life wasn’t helping your feelings. they were increasing by the day and you knew it was wrong because he had a girlfriend but you just couldn’t help it.

you tried distracting yourself by hanging out with ricky and minjeong more and going out to see jake more, but everything was starting to remind you of heeseung.

———

you were having just about enough of heeseung’s behavior. he hadn’t talked to you in weeks and you were starting to get pissed off.

“what’s wrong with heeseung?? he keeps avoiding me,” you frown, sipping your drink.

“he’s been fine around me. i think he’s having trouble with his girlfriend, sullyoon. you know about her right?” jake says, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“yeah..i know her,” you mumble, the topic leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“maybe try approaching him in a way he can’t escape from? try screaming at him or something i don’t know,” jake suggests. god he gave the worst advice.

but maybe it wasn’t so bad?

one bright afternoon, you had spotted heeseung and sullyoon walking in a hallway after school ended and you decided to just go for it.

“LEE HEESEUNG! STOP FUCKING AVOIDING ME AND LET ME TALK TO YOU!!!” you screamed down the hallway. both his and her heads spun around to look at you and at that moment, you were so grateful no one else was in the hallway at that moment.

you were too busy staring down heeseung that you didn’t notice the realization in sullyoon’s face. she knew. she knew now.

heeseung came walking up to you, obviously confused as to why you screamed at him.

“what do you need y/n?” he asked, his tone almost as if nothing was wrong.

“lee heeseung why are you avoiding me?” you pester, your eyebrows scrunched together.

“i-i’m not avoiding you, what?” heeseung says, tilting his head to the side.

“heeseung. you run away whenever you see me in the hallway! how is that not avoiding me?!” you push.

“i’m not. i’m sorry if it seems like that,” he sighs. “i really gotta go, i’ll see you around, okay?”

“yeah sure, whatever..” you reply, knowing that it wouldn’t be the truth.

———

months later, you've just turned 19 and you, ricky, and minjeong were going out to karaoke to celebrate.

"i've got the sprite! and the chips!!" minjeong exclaimed, holding up two plastic convenience store bags. it made you smile slightly, laughing at minjeong's funny antics.

to be honest, you've been staring at your phone, waiting for a certain birthday wish from a certain someone. it suddenly felt like your 13th birthday all over again.

jake had come over in the morning to take you out to a nice brunch place and it was the first time you had seen your older brother in quite some time.

he had gotten busier with his major and that left little time for you and him to hang out anymore. you didn't mind too much because you knew how hard he was working, but it still felt lonely sometimes without jake's goofy presence.

right as you were locking up the front door to your apartment, someone showed up. and of course, it had to be heeseung.

he was out of breath and you could only assume it was because he ran all the way here. but why? had he come to apologize for forgetting your birthday again? or was he here to make another promise. a fake promise.

"can...can i speak to her?" he huffed, out of breath. he pointed to you and ricky and minjeong both shared a look with you before you sighed and nodded.

"we'll be in the car babes! take as much time as you need!" minjeong smiles, heading to the car.

"she's lying, i'm not waiting that long," ricky adds, earning a hit from minjeong. you just chuckle before realizing that heeseung was here to talk to you.

"hey heeseung..it's been some time.." you smile awkwardly, not really sure what to say.

"y/n, look, i know i fucked up way too many times to be forgiven, but please listen to me," he pleads, a desperate look in those bambi eyes. it reminds you too much of the night he knelt by your bed, guilt evident in his eyes. it reminded you of that night and you hated the way your heart fluttered.

"fine, but make it quick, i really don't have all day," you agree, letting out a small sigh.

"ok, i'm not really sure how to word this in the best way..but, i think i'm in love with you sim y/n. and i think i've been in love with you since the day jake introduced me to you. i was too scared of these feelings that i tried to push them away and fuck, that didn't work at all. when you first came here, you were no longer jake's baby sister, shit, you were so pretty and it scared me. it took sullyoon sitting me down and talking to me about how i truly felt for me to finally realize all of this. i understand if you hate me after all you've done and i know i made it seem like all i wanted was someone new, but i just want you." heeseung breathes, all of his words suddenly overwhelming you at once.

heeseung loved you. lee. heeseung. fucking. loved. you. back. oh god, you were gonna cry.

"heeseung...i've pined for you and only for you for 19 years. i never thought that you would like me too.." you manage to say, trying to stop yourself from crying and ruining your makeup before celebrating your birthday.

"princess..i- can i kiss you? please?" you nod slowly, smiling at heeseung before he leans in and presses his lips on yours.

it's a feeling that you have been waiting for for years and you can definitely say that it was so worth it. heeseung was gentle but also eager against your lips like he was savoring you.

"oh fucking finally!" you hear ricky say, sass evident in his tone, and making you pull away from heeseung with a slight jump. classic ricky, always ruining the mood.

"jesus! ricky get back in the car you bitch! you ruined their moment!!" you heard minjeong whisper scream at him, making you laugh.

"glad to see minjeong's still here with you," heeseung smiles. "let me take you out on a date?"

"yes please," you exhale, pinching yourself to make sure this was real.

"now, go have fun celebrating, i don't wanna crash the party," he winks, kissing your lips one last time before running back, leaving you smiling like the simp you are.

"you two really are the cutest pair, huh?" minjeong chuckles as you get into the car.

"only took 19 years." you say, still feeling heeseung's sweet kiss against your lips.

19 years of searching for love, and you've now found the sweetest one out there. lee heeseung.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication

[my-castles-crumbling]

love - february 25 - black brothers - background jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 437

“Oi!”

Regulus turned, immediately scowling when he saw the exact shade of gray he viewed in the mirror every morning staring at him from across the library. “Go bother someone else, Sirius,” he hissed, rolling his eyes and looking back to his book.

“M’not here to bother you,” Sirius mumbled, slinking out from behind the bookshelf he’d been hidden on the other side of a moment before. “I’m here to tell you to cut the shit.”

“How kind,” Regulus snorted. “I can feel the brotherly affection.”

“Stop with the ‘poor me’ attitude,” Sirius scoffed. “I’m not going to be distracted. I’m here to tell you to stop messing around with James. It’s gross.”

Regulus paused, shocked that Potter had even had the guts to tell Sirius about what they’d been up to. “What do you mean?” he asked, playing dumb. “You’re sounding a bit homophobic, you know.”

“I mean, I don’t care if you’re sneaking around school with blokes. That’s your business,” Sirius muttered, looking around to be sure they weren’t overheard. “Honestly, it makes you seem almost human. But just…not him. Okay?”

“Why, have a crush?” Regulus sneered, though his stomach sank at the idea. He was no competition for Sirius and the bond he shared with James.

“Ew, no. My heart belongs to another,” Sirius replied airily, and Regulus almost asked who he was talking about. “But..” the older boy sighed, some of his anger dissipating. “Reg, James feels things. Deeply. And if you don’t stop with this….he’d gonna fall in love with you. If he hasn’t already.”

Regulus frowned, heart skipping a beat. “He’d…he’d never fall in love with me,” he whispered, and he hated how sad he sounded as he said it.

The Gryffindor tilted his head. “You almost sound like…like you wish he would,” he commented. And Regulus could tell that he meant it as a joke, but it came out more like a question.

For a few moments, Regulus opened and shut his mouth, trying to think through his answer, before he gritted his teeth and looked away. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, horrified at the prickling feeling of tears forming in his eyes.

“Oh…Merlin,” Sirius whispered, awe in his voice, and when Regulus met his eyes, they were wide with wonder. “You…you know what? Forget I said anything.”

“What? Why?” he asked sharply, almost angry that Sirius wasn’t angry anymore.

“Because,” Sirius replied as he stood, giving him a small smile. “I didn’t realize you care about him, too.”

And Regulus almost called after him. Almost yelled, ‘I do not!’

Except he didn’t, because that would’ve been a blatant lie.

[brainjuicezz]

Chaos Island is doing horrible things to my psyche

[manicmanuscription]

Sleepless

Pairing(s): Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of PTSD, probably slight medical inaccuracies dealing with insomnia. SFW

Word Count: 1436

Summary: You've always had bad insomnia, unable to sleep due to trauma, that slowly starts getting better with your mate Azriel and on a particularly rough night you seek him out to help you sleep.

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

divider by @cafekitsune

You always had trouble sleeping, sometimes going days to weeks with only 2-3 hours, running on pure adrenaline until eventually your body gave in and you passed out. 

You had severe PTSD and the nighttime always made it worse, anxiety crushing you so bone deep as you waited for the next terrible thing to happen to you.  The healer’s you’d been to had all tried different methods to trick your restless body and mind into sleeping. Weed, relaxing teas and herbal remedies, tinctures, pills, aromatherapy, exercise. You name it, you've tried it. 

The only thing that had even remotely helped you a little bit was Azriel. You don't know when or how but he had suddenly become a safe space for you, the peace you felt around him a foreign feeling, one that terrified you but you had become too addicted to abandon. Over the years, your shy and soft friendship had turned into something more until the mating bond snapped. 

The level of commitment scared the shit out of both of you but you wouldn’t be able to handle life without each other. He was a soothing presence and he made you feel safe, cared for and loved. You had never been loved by or been in love with someone as deeply as Azriel. 

It never failed to amaze him when you fell asleep around him. He knew about your bad case of insomnia (you’d even passed out a few times in his arms and scared the ever living shit out of him.) So when you fell asleep next to him or even with him it had his heart skipping a few beats, the bond in his chest glowing with pride. It meant you trusted him, felt safe around him and it was the greatest feeling in the world. 

This was another night that plagued you, rain pattering against the windows with an unyielding vengeance. Thunder occasionally cleaves the sky. You were at the River House tonight, work had you and Azriel up late as you went over reports with Rhys. Once you all found a good stopping point you headed to your shared bedroom, thankful for the rooms Feyre had installed for you all.  

You had tried falling asleep without Azriel insisting he stay to have drinks with Rhysand, giving the High Lord and Spymaster some much needed brotherly bonding time. 

All you wanted was to sleep. You were already on your fourth day of no rest and it frustrated you to no end, there’d been multiple occasions of you sobbing to your mate about the lack of sleep, your mind simply refusing to give into the needs of your body. You needed Azriel but you stuffed the feeling down, determined to force your body to rest so he could enjoy his time. 

Then an hour passed, then two eventually ticked by and you couldn’t help the gnawing anxiety growing in your gut. It twisted up until you felt nauseous doubt running rampant through your mind. What if something terrible had happened to him? You knew this house was probably one of the safest places in all of Velaris but you couldn’t stop once you started, each dreadful though only growing worse. 

A shadow twisted in the corner, skittering across the floor and opening the door to your bedroom. Another shadow curled around your wrist and tugged softly- but insistently and you took the sign for what it was and followed the impatient little things through the winding estate until they led you to one of the main common rooms. You heard the soft voices of Cassian, Rhysand Azriel echoing through the dead silent house. 

You were unsure of actually entering the living room, hesitating in the hallway as your stomach now twisting with a different kind of anxiety -what if he was mad at you for being so annoying? for interrupting him?-

The shadows were having none of that and immediately pulled you into the room and you almost tripped on the plush carpet’s until they steadied you. They swirled back to their master and skittered around him excitedly, his eyes immediately found yours and they softened, a look only ever reserved for you and your heart skipped a beat at the sight.  Conversation continued but for a moment it felt like it was only the two of you. 

The shadows must’ve tattled on you because those bright eyes immediately shifted to concern, you could practically taste the question on his tongue and you shook your head trying to silently tell him you were fine. You crossed the room “When did you get here Cass?” You asked as you settled next to your mate. Your body instantly relaxes at the familiar scent of him. His presence instantly soothes almost all your earlier anxiety. 

“About… an hour ago?” The General responded across from you and you snorted at his PJ’s. “Couldn’t miss the fun?” You snarked as you adjusted to lay your body across the couch and placed your head on Azriel’s lap, letting him softly run his hands through your hair. 

‘“He has the worst case of FOMO I’ve ever seen.” Rhysand responded with a smirk sipping on an expensive glass of wine. 

“No I do not!” Cassian insisted. Azriel and Rhys chuckled at that. “You ran to my home, in sleepwear as soon as my lovely mate asked you where you were.” Rhys pointed out, brows raised. 

“Sleepwear? Are you too fancy for the word PJ’s? Gods…” Cassian retorted, turning to his own glass of wine. I chuckled a little bit at that and Azriel sent a wave of love towards me at the sound. “Shouldn’t you be with your mate Cassian?” Azriel joined in on the teasing as shadows retrieved a blanket for you, wrapping it around your shoulders, Azriel still absentmindedly playing with your hair, another hand abandoning his glass so he could trace patterns on your arm. 

“She is currently with Gwyn trading me in for some new romance novel I’m afraid.” 

“Poor baby.” You mocked, eyelids fluttering close at Azriel’s continued touch, your body slowly melting into him, your side of the bond glowing with contentment at finally being in his arms. Everything about him, his touch, his scent, his voice, soothed your long day and warmed you heart. You chimed in the conversation here and there as it continued for a few more hours until finally your jaw grew heavy to talk, your breathing evening out as you fucking finally slept. 

Azriel couldn’t help the warm smile spread across his face at the sight of you. You looked so peaceful sleeping and he was happy you were finally able to catch some rest. 

“Look at that.” Rhysand chirped. “He’s so whipped.” 

Cassian grinned, opening his mouth to add on but Azriel interrupted him. “Sshh.” 

“Excuse you?” Cassian mocked, Rhys eyes alight with amusement. “Did you just ’sshh’ me in my own house?” “Wow that’s just disrespectful, you seriously gonna take that Rhysie?”

Usually Azriel would never dream of doing so, he respected Rhys and would for him but when it came to you and especially your health and sleep..? They kept teasing him trying to prompt a response until eventually he snapped when Cassian’s voice got a little too loud. 

“Don’t you have mate’s to look after?” Azriel snapped harshly, Rhysand and Cassian paused. 

“Yep, definitely whipped.” Cassian agreed and Azriel’s eyes flashed, his grip on your tightening just slightly, you had been struggling to sleep for days and if his idiot brother’s woke you up not even twenty minutes later than who knows when you’d eventually fall asleep again or worse maybe you wouldn’t and you’d just pass out which isn’t even sleeping- His mind whirled dangerously on how to protect your rest. “This conversation is over, wake her up and I’ll rearrange your teeth.”  He responded dangerously, shadows slowly covering your limp form. 

Rhysand and Cassian put their hand’s up in surrender, they knew your struggles with sleep and they knew what a male would do to protect his mate and they had reached their limit on teasing, Azriel could be quite terrifying when need be. “Feyre is waiting for me.” Rhysand said with a wink, wishing his brother’s goodnight before gracefully exiting the room. Cassian just mouthed a sorry, patting Azriel on the back before leaving too. 

Azriel stayed like that until dawn, not risking a chance at you waking up due to any movement. He was perfectly content to watch your peaceful sleep, listening to your deep breaths as he held you close, continuing to trace those same soothing patterns along your arm. 

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[rubiehart]

when leopard!reader realises what a mess the twinkie is, she decides to give it a little spritz-up.

she runs a black acrylic tipped finger along the bumper of the twinkie, a streak of colour trailing through the dull coat of dirt that had built up as she grimaces, the van swaying as the rest of the gang hop out of the rustbucket. she wipes the grub on her denim shorts casually and turns towards him.

“jesus, john b. when was the last time you cleaned this?” she calls to him, hand shielding her eyes as she squints towards the sun, watching as john b and jj continue towards the chateau, stomping the dead grass as kie and pope follow not too far behind.

“ew.” kie comments off handedly, face scrunching up in disgust as she notices the state of it. “uh, few months back?” john b calls back nonchalantly, ignoring jj’s comment of “dude, more like a ‘few years’.”

“haven’t had time to get ‘round to it yet.” he shrugs, spinning back around and traipsing up the wooden steps with the two other pogue boys on his trail. she rolls her eyes, plan already forming in her head as she slings her backpack over her shoulder and jogs to catch up with kie.

half an hour or so later, the boys are lounging on the porch with some beers, the early evening sunset casting a comfortable and calm energy over the group, so mellow they hadn’t even really noticed the absence of the girls until now.

the sloshing of water and grunts of struggle are heard before they’re seen, emerging from around the back of the chateau with buckets filled with water, adorned in the tiniest bikini the boys had possibly ever seen.

“this is gonna be a job n’ a half.” she sighs, panting as she places two heavy buckets on the ground next to the van, kie nodding along with her, hands on her hips as she catches her breath.

“oh my god john b, how do you even let it get this bad?” kie mumbles as she unravels the hose from the tap at the side of the house, both girls not picking up on all three boys stunned expressions.

“what’s goin’ on here?” john b drawls with a lazy smirk, eyes shamelessly trained on the both of them as the other two ogle in silence.

“what’s it look like, douchebag?” she sighs, grabbing the hose from kie and beginning to hose down the roof as kie goes for the sponges and soap.

“looks like you’re washing the twinkie.” pope answers for you dumbly, eyes wide and cheeks noticeably flushed as he stares straight ahead at the van. both of your eyebrows furrow in confusion but neither of you comment, focusing on sudding up the sponges in your grip.

jj chuckles dryly, taking a long swig of his beer, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands behind head. “sit back and enjoy the show, bro.” he grins, giving pope a brotherly pat on the shoulder, a silent plea to get him to ease up a little, eyes still ogling your ass as you scrub at a particularly stubborn spot.

“see the shit we do for you, john b?” you sigh, walking around to the bonnet as you dip your sponge into the bucket of water, tits almost spilling out of the thin material as you scrub at the volkswagen symbol until you can see your face in it.

“actively seein’ it.” he nods flirting, causing you to look at him with a sideways smirk, flipping all three boys off collectively when jj playfully lets out a low whistle. “you’re such pervs.” kie sighs, crouched down as she scrubs at the metal above the wheels, eyes flicking from your smooth thighs to the van.

of course you knew they were loving it, but you loved the chase, even if you’d never admit it. so of course you continued, noticing every little look from kiara, every time jj adjusted the way he was sitting, every time pope cleared his throat nervously, and every time you caught john b shamelessly ogling when he thought you weren’t looking.

so, yeah. sudding up your tits and shaking your body a little exaggeratedly to get a rise out of them wasn’t exactly accidental. after all, little teasing never hurt nobody.

[novaursa]

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

[iamsebastiansstan]

surrender at your feet - stepbro!NAC x fem!reader

summary - This kink is getting out of hand, but he doesn’t give a single fuck, because where he is sick and rotten, she is, too.

wc - 15k lol - MINORS DNI !

warnings - dark!Nicholas so beware, stepcest, manipulation, somnophilia, oral (m and f receiving), edging, crying during sex, dirty talk, face slapping (the sexual and non sexual kind), borderline abusive Nicholas, panty kink, non-consensual voyeurism (he's watching her taking a shower without her knowing), exhibitionism (grinding where others could see), but they looove each other whatever whatever <3

A/N - this one... LOL THIS ONE almost did me in, it took me so long to write and it's nowhere near done but it was gnawing at my brain so I had to post it. 's a likkle fucked up so don't read if you aren't into that sick shit, thanks. super plot heavy, part two is gonna be a lot smuttier! feedback is always appreciated, love you <3

this one is for @hoffmansgirl and @urlitttlevenicebitch specifically, thanks for holding my hand throughout all this nastiness my Darlings 🖤

PART 1 / 2:

It started a couple of years back, when she first came into his life, fists swinging and lips cursing. She hated it, hated being part of this family, hated the new house she moved into, hated his father, hated him.

It was a lot for her to take in, and he understood. He, too, had some nights where he had to clench his teeth through the onslaught of tears, fuming at the fact that his mother just up and left them like that, moved to fucking Italy to be with Sergio or Francesco or whatever the fuck his name is, giving up everything she had in her life, including her only son. It hurt, but he bore it, and that was the main difference between them, wasn’t it? Where she was loud and rebellious, a little spitfire, he was quiet and brooding, preferring to keep a low profile.

He's just glad she got used to it, over time, even building a solid relationship with her stepfather. He was grateful for the mother figure his stepmom posed in his life, as well, he had missed having that. 

The two of them, though? 

Acquaintances rather than stepsiblings, and he couldn’t pick between hating the frost between them or being thankful for the emotional distance, considering his feelings towards her. Feelings he doesn’t- can’t- talk about. 

They grew into their adult years together, and the older they got, the more he’s had to try to resist her, his rational brain reminding him of what it’d look like, the rest of his body yearning for her in ways he didn’t even know were possible. 

He’s also glad they both decided to stay home for college, so he can keep an eye on her, brotherly love and all that. Their house isn’t big, but three slim stories high, and he shares the top floor with her, his bedroom next to hers, a bathroom across the hall, blessedly far away from where their parents sleep one floor down. The walls are thin, too, so he can make sure she isn’t sneaking out at night, or taking phone calls she isn’t supposed to be having, and-

He's protective, sue him.

“Nick, have you seen my tanning oil?” she calls from just outside his door, making him look up from the video game he’s playing. 

His frustration runs deep, he’s getting fucking obliterated.

“It’s not in the cabinet?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking!”

“Maybe you left it downstairs yesterday?”

They’re on summer break, and every day, like clockwork, she spends her whole morning tanning her skin, lounging by the pool, reading a book. This past semester has been hard on her, he knows, so she didn’t exactly have time for a job on the side, which means going away on vacation is not in the cards for her right now. He’d love for them to go away together, he’d pay for it no problem, but there’s no way in hell she’d ever say yes to that, so he stays home and sulks. But only a little. He doesn’t mind.

He looks out the window and sees her stomping towards the sunbed, bending down in her tiny bikini that’s showing off her ass and straightening out with the bottle of oil clutched tightly in her hand. She turns towards where his window is and smiles at him, giving him a thumbs up that makes him feel warm on the inside. 

Here’s another thing he loves about having a room on this floor, apart from getting to share it with her: his big window has a very clear view of their garden including the pool, where he can watch her skimpy swimsuit-clad body, covered in oil, at that, for as long as he wants, but if he stands to the side just so, he also gets a glimpse of the spacious outdoor shower their parents insisted on building last summer. It’s perfect to rinse off in after the mud treatments they like to put on in their outdoor sauna, but also perfect to clean yourself in after you’ve doused your body in oil that you don’t want to soil the inside bathroom with, the way his sister prefers to do. He can’t see everything from there, especially not without getting caught- one look up and his hiding spot would be busted- but he can see enough to satisfy his need to feel closer to her, see more of her, his delusion of connection being fed plenty. 

And so he patiently waits for her to get tired of laying around, for her to start feeling too hot under the rays of the August sun, for her to pack up her stuff and languidly move to the shower. Nicholas gets up from his desk and discreetly positions himself just right, just to see enough of the shower. It’s built in a spiral with the showerhead in the middle, and she hangs up her silk robe outside and then walks in, hands already reaching behind herself to pull the strings of her top, making it fall away. This is a sight he’ll never grow tired of: her full breasts on display, perky nipples hard from the change in temperature, making his mouth water for a taste. He’d treat them so well, suck them so good. 

Next are her bottoms, and this is where his line of sight isn’t cutting it properly, he can’t see past the curve of her ass or the spot where her stomach becomes her mound, but he’s okay with it, okay with imagining it without knowing exactly. It makes it sweeter, in a way, lets the anticipation build for what he hopes will someday become an inevitability. 

Grabbing the bottle of shower gel from the rack on the wall and spreading it on her loofa generously, she starts cleaning herself, rubbing her small hands all over that smooth skin, getting rid of the oil that made her look shiny and lickable. Nicholas feels his cock stir but he doesn’t do anything about it, the risk of getting caught too high. He can explain away why he’s standing by his window, but there’s no explanation for why he’s looking outside with his cock in his hand. He just commits every moment to memory and jerks off after, that’s how it’s always been. 

Always, up until now, apparently, because she does something he’s never seen her do before: she leans against the wall, just outside of the stream of water, and lets one hand trail down her stomach, very obviously stopping at her pussy and keeping it there. Her other hand grabs at her breast as she throws her head back, and Nicholas audibly moans when he realizes that fuck, his stepsister is touching herself under the shower. He knows it’s wrong to watch, has known since the very first time he did, having to squash the guilt day in and day out, but he couldn’t look away now if he tried. 

Hand grabbing his cock through his shorts, he palms at the hardness of it, bites his lip when she does, wishes he could look down at her body the way she does, see what she’s doing to that undoubtedly sweet pussy of hers. It’s like his brain has been switched off when he plunges his hand into his underwear and grasps his rock hard dick, not pulling it out but giving himself enough room for movement as he desperately jerks it, speeding up when he sees her arm moving faster, not daring to shut his eyes as he watches her close hers and come with her face scrunched up. It doesn’t take him long and he’s right there with her, spilling his load hot all over himself, uncaring because what he just witnessed was the hottest thing of his life.

She sighs heavily, judging by the movement of her chest, and he sees her clean herself quickly before shutting the water off and grabbing the towel that’s hanging to the side.

He doesn’t stay to watch her walk out. 

*** 

He acts normal around her, because of course he does, what else is he supposed to do? They eat dinner together every night, as a family, they go to the movies every now and then, when there’s something good on and her friends are busy, he drives her home from parties, when his friends decide to drink and make him the designated driver of the group. 

Such is the case tonight, after a few students from their college had one too many at the bar crawl and he offered to take some of them home. After dropping off his last friend from the group, it’s just the two of them in the car.

“You never drink,” she mumbles, watching the streetlights as they drive by.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Just not my thing.”

She scoffs. “I feel like you’d be a lot more fun if you did.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. This is a level of honesty she wouldn’t allow herself without liquid courage. 

“Why’s that?”

“Dunno,” she shrugs. “You’re a little… stuck-up. Actually, no. You’re strict.”

He smiles softly.

“I guess I am. You had fun tonight?”

She grins at him when he looks over at her.

“Fuck yeah. Gave Sam my number, he said he’d text me tomorrow.” 

Jealousy flares in his chest, bright and ugly, and he grips the steering wheel to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret.

“Oh, really? I heard he’s bad news, (Y/N).”

She clicks her tongue, all sass, before she replies, “People talk, but it’s mainly bullshit. He’s a good guy.”

He lets her answer hang in the air, out of things to contribute to this stupid conversation. Fuckin’ Sam, of all people. 

After a while, she speaks up again.

“What about you? I never see you with anyone.”

He smiles to himself, shrugging.

“I date around a bit, nothing serious. I don’t have the capacity for it right now.”

I’m too focused on you, he doesn’t say. It’s been around two weeks since he’s had sex, choosing to hit up a girl from class every now and then, when his frustration gets too intense, but he’s not really interested in anything but the physical, with nobody. Well, nobody apart from his stepsister, of course.

They arrive at home, and he parks the car, turns it off and looks to his right where she’s sitting.

“Lots of girls have a crush on you, Nicholas,” she whispers, doesn’t look at him, “I hear them talk. They want you.”

He knows, but he doesn’t care.

“Yeah? And how does that make you feel, to hear them thirsting after your big brother?”

He’s tethering on an edge, here, and he’s aware of it. They don’t really talk about what they are to each other, they don’t really talk at all, actually, but he throws caution in the wind and hopes her drunk self will let him get away with it.

Her eyes are hard when they meet his, albeit for just a second.

“I think it’s stupid,” she mumbles, “none of them are good enough for you.” With that she undoes her seatbelt and gets out, bends down to look at him one more time, says, “Thank you for the ride, Nick,” and slams the door shut.

He sits there long after she’s walked into the house. 

*** 

When he hears a slight, insistent buzzing sound, he first thinks it’s tinnitus. He pops his ears, digs a knuckle in to try to make it stop before deciding that, nope, it’s not coming from within his head. It’s coming from the other side of the wall.

Seeing as the walls are paper-thin, Nicholas hears most of what goes on in her room, as does she when he doesn’t watch how loud he’s being in his.

He doesn’t listen to music loudly, instead he opts for using his headphones, because he knows she loves to read and prefers a quiet atmosphere to do so. She stops her singing and humming at around ten p.m., because she knows he’s a ridiculously light sleeper and can hear every sound she makes. They look out for each other, as siblings are supposed to, no matter their relation.

But he’s never heard buzzing before, especially not like this, it’s too drawn out for it to be her phone leaned against the wall, signaling a call. Is it a hair clipper? In her room? No way, why would she-

“Oh… oh, fuck,” he hears, her voice high and breathy, and-

Oh. Oh. 

Heat crawls up his neck as he lets the realization sink in, tries his best to stay still and not press his head against the wall to listen in further. He lasts exactly eleven seconds before he’s scooting across his bed to get as close as possible, to hear as much as he can. 

Her moans are stifled but they’re audible nonetheless, making his cock stir. The buzzing must be a vibrator, something she apparently has never used before, because he would’ve heard it if it was the same as this one. Or maybe she’s only used it when he was out of the house, which makes an uncomfortable feeling spread in his gut. Why is she hiding this from him? What else is she hiding from him? 

Nicholas reels himself in through the fog of horniness clouding his mind, reminds himself that she isn’t hiding anything, per se, reminds himself that she’s got a right to privacy, and he is crossing many lines by doing what he does, but. He can’t help it, alright? He needs her, he adores her. 

So he presses his ear against the wall above his headboard, works his pants open and takes his cock out, and bites his lip to keep from moaning right along with her as he listens to her labored breathing, the strong buzzing of the toy that’s pressed- into her pussy? against her pussy?- and the slight whimper that escapes her every now and then. He’s always only imagined what she’d sound like, but now he’s got her actual noises in his ears, and he saves those sounds to his spank bank to get off to forever. God, he can’t believe she’s so vocal even when she’s undoubtedly trying not to be. What a fucking treat she is for him. 

It's over faster than he’d like to admit but he can’t be embarrassed when this literal wet dream material landed in his lap, and after he’s made himself bust to the sound of her reaching her peak herself, biting his knuckles and doing everything in his power not to make a sound and scare her off, he takes his shirt off to wipe the mess with, not finding anything else within arm’s reach.

Deciding to wait a beat before going to the bathroom for a shower, he’s surprised to see her exiting her room at the exact same time he does, looking disheveled and holding a towel with something bundled up in it. No doubt that fucking toy. Her eyes widen comically when she sees him, stops in her tracks, and he can’t help the raise of his eyebrows either. 

“You go ahead,” he tells her, motioning to the bathroom.

“Nah,” she says, her cheeks coloring adorably, “I gotta shower, I’ll take a bit longer.”

He nods, suppresses a smirk.

“Okay, I’ll give you a knock when I’m done.” 

Feeling smug, he purposely takes his time, lets her stew in her discomfort. 

Walking back to his room, he gives her the promised knock before closing his door behind himself. He listens for her footsteps. It takes her almost five minutes to move. 

*** 

If you asked Nicholas if he’d describe himself as creepy, he’d flat-out tell you no. If you asked him if he’d call himself a perv, he’d have to think about it. If you, however, asked him if he’s got some serious sexual issues, he’d nod enthusiastically and ask you if you had the number of a good therapist. Or a priest. At this point, he’ll take any help he can get.

Because he knows this isn’t normal, knows it rationally, but the thing is that he’s a dude in his twenties who just so prefers to think with his cock, mainly, and so he doesn’t care. 

Plus, lately, she’s been a real tease. Nothing too crazy, subtility is her strong suit, but enough to drive him mad. When she sits herself down next to him at dinner, she’ll turn to him, put her feet up on his chair, under his thighs. 

“Please, warm them for me?” she’ll pout, making him roll his eyes in fake annoyance while his heartrate kicks up a notch. 

“You’re not even wearing socks!” he’ll snap, but of course he’ll warm her feet up.

She’s started tanning topless, but only when she’s on her stomach, not revealing too much, but more than she has before. The sight of her tits under the shower is still a treat, though. 

And, on top of it all, she’s started putting her clothes in his hamper. They each have their own hamper in the bathroom, right next to each other, and mix-ups have happened over the years, but three in one week is a bit much. First it was her shirt, then it was two pairs of socks, then her bra. He wordlessly put them into hers without thinking about it, but now he’s struggling.

Because now he’s looking at a thong, a worn thong, on top of the shirt he tossed in last night. How he knows it’s worn? There’s a tiny spot on the crotch, dried pussy juice, whatever it may be, but it suddenly makes his tongue feel heavy and the sight of it makes him think the only way to stop his brain from short circuiting is to put his mouth on it, which, no. Even for him, that is too far, he doesn’t do that.

What he does do, however, after he checks behind himself to make sure she isn’t coincidentally walking by at this exact moment, is pocket them, walk into his room with them heavy on his person, and when he shuts the door, he realizes he hasn’t taken a single breath the entire way there. 

His hands shake when they take the panties out, and his cock hardens so fast that it makes him dizzy for a second. He contemplates bringing them up to his nose and inhaling but decides against it. If he ever gets to smell her, he wants it to be her, fully, nothing else. Tossing them on the bed, he sits down, takes a minute to himself.

That must have fucking been on purpose, right? There is no way she didn’t do that for him to find it. No way. The thong was planted, presented, almost, she wanted him to see it and then what? What reaction is she expecting? He won’t give her a direct one, that’s for damn sure. It’s too risky, what if it really was accidental, he’d make himself look like an absolute psycho.

Resolute, he decides not to do anything about it yet, not regarding her, at least. By himself, that’s another story entirely. He’s undoing his pants before he knows it, taking off his shirt and getting completely naked. Nick leans back against his headboard, gets comfortable among the pillows, and starts playing with his cock slowly.

He's hard, wet already, throbbing, but he takes his time, teases the tip, imagines it’s her tongue instead. Grabbing the panties, he wraps them around his base, makes sure they’re on properly and holds them with one hand while his other speeds up, eager to get off. The sight of that lacy black material around his dick, the contrast similar to how it’d be if he just got her on her back, pulled them to the side and slid into her hot cunt, that thought driving him insane, driving him closer and closer to his orgasm. 

He comes with a shout and isn’t even ashamed of it, makes sure to let his semen run along his shaft and pool on the material of the thong, let it get soaked a little, before he takes it away completely and uses it to wipe away what he can. For the rest he uses a tissue from his bedside table. 

It takes him a while to build that courage up, but he walks to her hamper, puts her ruined underwear at the very top of the dirty pile of her laundry.

Hours later, at night when everyone’s asleep and regret hits him, panic grips at his throat, he goes through it again, can’t find the damn pair of panties among the same pile of clothes.

Nobody in the house did the laundry today, he knows, he’s been the only one at home the entire time.

*** 

Their parents have no qualms about going on vacation for a few weeks and leaving their kids at home alone, and he’s absolutely fine with it for the most part, if only she wasn’t so insistent on letting her rebellious streak show now that nobody can correct her, partying every damn night and showing up at all times of the morning, leaving him worried sick.

“At least have the fucking decency to let me know when you won’t be coming home, so I don’t worry,” he snaps at her after the fourth night of her going out.

“You’re not my fucking father,” she hisses and leaves, skirt too short and heels too high, leaving Nicholas boiling with rage.

It’s only a small surprise when, one day, he walks into the living room after a post-lunch nap and catches her on the couch, straddling Sam. He had forgotten about the guy, about her telling him that they’d exchanged numbers, and he feels the bright hot mix of jealousy and anger make its way into his blood stream.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, smirks when they jump apart, ending their little make out session, “who do we have here?”

She glares at him with her mouth red and wet, panting slightly, and if he had any less self-control, he’d grab her by the throat and drag her off this loser’s lap.

“Nicholas, hey dude,” Sam chuckles, a little embarrassed and a lot sheepish as she gets off his lap, stands up with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Let’s go up to my room, Sam,” she says, is about to pull him up when Nicholas’ loud laugh interrupts her, makes her whip her head around to look at him.

Stop being weird, her gaze tells him, but she has no clue how normal he’s being right now, has no clue what it is he wants to do instead. 

“I don’t fucking think so, (Y/N),” he snarls, leans against the wall with his arms crossed as well. Two can play this game. “Samuel, you were just about to leave, weren’t you.”

“Actually, I- I wasn’t really-“

“Wasn’t a question.”

“Nick!” she hisses, looks at him with wide-eyed fury, “What the fuck are you doing? Sam, you really don’t have to leave, let’s just go upstairs.” 

“(Y/N),” Nicholas starts, grit teeth and dark eyes, “I said he’s leaving, end of story.” 

“Hey, it’s all good, babe,” Sam says, and even though that nickname makes Nicholas’ stomach turn, he appreciates that the boy has at least some respect left. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He presses a kiss to her cheek and grabs his backpack, walks past Nicholas with a small nod and disappears through the door. The silence he leaves behind is deafening as they look at each other, and she’s spitting mad, he can tell, shaking with it.

She grits, “What the fuck was that?” 

He shrugs, tries to act nonchalant, tries to keep control over the situation.

“You’re not going to hang out with him again, okay?”

“What?” she yells, disbelief coloring her voice.

“Lower your fuckin’ tone when speaking to me,” he hisses, stalks over to her and grabs her by the shoulders. “Sam is a piece of shit, and I will not let my sister hang around people like him, am I understood? You won’t see him again.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He doesn’t think, just for a second, and suddenly his hand is at her throat, slamming her against the wall and crowding into her. He can’t consider his next steps, the ringing in his ears is too loud.

“Who the fuck do you think I am, huh? It’s enough now, (Y/N)! It’s enough!”

There’s fear in her eyes as she stares up at him, pulse hammering under his fingertips, but she doesn’t fight him, doesn’t struggle against him. 

He cages her in, lips a hair-width from hers as he gently whispers, “Now, what is it that you’re not going to do anymore?”

She swallows hard, a movement that’s constricted by his tight grip.

“S-see Sam,” she whimpers, not taking her gaze off him.

Nicholas smiles. 

“Atta girl,” he praises, moves the knuckle of his other hand along her cheekbone. “And while we’re at it, you’re not going to any more parties, okay? Four in a row are enough, don’t you think?” She gives him a jerky nod, wordless but appeasing, nonetheless. “Very good, wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” he smiles, condescension dripping from every syllable, watching her shake her head no before he lets instinct take over and presses a kiss to her forehead, all loving brother like. “Now go up to your room, I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

She’s out of his grasp before he can even step away fully.

He serves dinner silently, chicken and mac’n’cheese, her favorite. She whispers a small thank you and digs in, doesn’t look at him. Nicholas knows he might have gone a bit far today, especially so suddenly, but he only did it for her. The stories about Sam really did make their rounds, and he’d hate for his little sister to be known as one of that scumbag’s girls. Fuck no. 

“’m sorry about today,” he says after he’s let the atmosphere settle. “I should’ve been gentler, less angry, maybe. But I really am just worried about you, (Y/N), you can understand that, can’t you?”

It takes her a beat before she can look at him, chewing her food slowly. He gives her a small smile, encouraging, he hopes. He puts his hand on the table, palm up, looks at it then looks at her. She’s eyeing him with distrust before exhaling deeply, slowly, oh so slowly, reaching out and putting her hand in his.

His heart is threatening to beat out of his chest- they don’t touch, not ever- but he’s grateful. He considers it an accepted peace offering.

“I know,” she mumbles, “I was just… excited. About him liking me. I know it was probably a stupid thing of me to do.” 

“It was,” he says, keeping his tone gentle, “but it’s okay, I’m here to fix it if needed, okay? I’m your big brother, I’ll help you.”

“You keep saying that,” she notes, eyes hard but tone unsure. “That- that you’re my brother. But you aren’t, not really. We aren’t related.” 

He hums, thinks about how he should react without giving too much away. She’s right, they aren’t, but he needs her to trust him the way she would if they were. 

“We’re family in all the ways that matter, (Y/N). Okay?” he decides to say, squeezes her hand with the corners of his mouth tucked up.

That’s enough for her, apparently, because she gives him a nod and goes back to eating her dinner. When he lets go of her hand, she keeps it on the table, just within reach. 

He takes it as a sign, he’s going to be okay. 

She spends the entire next day in bed, not going outside once, and he knows because he hears that damn toy buzzing. His dick and his palm are sore by the time evening rolls around, because after all, he had to at least try to match her one for one. At least Sam is nowhere to be found, and Nick intends to keep it that way.

*** 

It sneaks in slowly, the need to be more involved, to order her around. It shows up at lunch, at dinner, one more piece of broccoli, one more scoop of rice. 

“Are you on a diet or somethin’? You’ve barely eaten.”

“Guess my appetite isn’t very big today.”

“C’mon, have some more.” Silence. “Hey, (Y/N).” A wide-eyed look. “For me?” A tiny smile, a shrug, a nod.

He refills her plate, an itsy-bitsy portion, and smiles when she eats it. He doesn’t want her to start feeling unwell now that she wakes up late and skips breakfast altogether, he needs to take care of her when their parents aren’t around. Nicholas isn’t the type to control anyone’s food intake, that would be ridiculous, but he doesn’t want her to miss out on her nutrients. 

Sometimes, she doesn’t let him.

“I really am full, I’ll have the leftovers tomorrow.”

He concedes, smiles at her. 

“Okay, I’ll put the rest in the fridge. The container is microwave proof, yeah?”

“’kay. Thank you, Nick.”

When he passes by her, he decides to be impulsive and bend down, press a kiss to the top of her head. He feels himself blush when she preens under his touch. It’s not weird, it’s a show of appreciation between stepsiblings. 

He’s walking by the bathroom, snacking on a banana, when he sees her standing in front of the mirror and curling her hair. Nick stops, leans against the doorframe and takes a bite.

“You going out in that?” he asks, motions with the half-eaten banana.

She turns, surprised, looks down at herself.

“Yeah, why? You don’t like it?”

“Where are you going?”

“Getting coffee with the girls.”

He hums, looks her up and down, unashamed in his staring. She may think it’s for the outfit, he knows it’s for her delicious body. 

“I feel like a flowy skirt would be cute. Or a dress, I don’t know. Nothing too short.”

She nods, looks at her baggy jeans.

“Want me to change?” her tone is genuine when she asks, none of the usual snark audible in it.

Nicholas chews slowly, looks to the side, unsure what to do. She’s letting him do this, giving it to him.

“Do you want to?”

“If… if you want me to, then yeah.”

He nods, finishes the bite, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, change into that olive green tennis skirt you have. It’ll go well with your top.” 

She smiles brightly, nods. 

“Okay, I will.” He’s just about to turn and walk away when she calls, “Thank you, big brother.” 

He throws her a smile over his shoulder and scurries away to dispose of the banana peel. His dick is hard in his pants.

Before she walks out, she knocks on his door, steps in when he allows it.

“Like this?” she asks, twirls once to let him see the full outfit.

She’s so fucking cute, he can’t decide if he wants to wrap her up in his arms forever or fuck her ‘til she’s crying.

He beckons her closer with his index finger, reaches out to touch the hem of her skirt once she’s close enough, pulls at it, like he’s assessing the material.

“Much better,” he rasps, smiles up at her from where he’s sitting at his desk chair. “Have fun, pretty. Call me if you need anything.”

She nods, smile so wide the corners of her eyes are crinkling, and she leaves. He exhales deeply, a warm feeling in his chest. This is going better than he could’ve imagined. 

“Come watch this movie with me,” he says, popcorn already in his lap, finger about to press play on the remote.

“I was gonna go to sleep… I’m so tired.”

That’s what she had said the past two nights, as well, only to stay up to fuck herself until well after midnight. It really must be a new toy, he thinks, her obsession with it, with getting off, way too intense for it to be anything but a new sensation. He knows she’s not a virgin, much to his dismay, but he has no clue if she gets fucked on the regular. Nick’s been making it difficult for her as well, he knows, not letting her out of the house too late.

“C’mon, just a bit? If you fall asleep, I’ll carry you upstairs.”

“I don’t know, Nick…”

“(Y/N),” he starts, voice stern now, “come sit down with me. It’s been a while since we last just spent time together.”

Reluctantly, she stomps her way over to him, annoyed. She does sit down, though, he’ll give her that, doesn’t even put too much distance between them. He smiles, presses play and leans back, enjoying the intro. She takes a handful of popcorn when he holds the bowl out to her but declines a second, which he’s fine with. 

It doesn’t take long for her to start squirming. 

First, it’s just some movement back and forth, it can pass as burrowing into the couch cushions, getting comfortable. Then it’s crossing and uncrossing her legs, over and over again, before she gives up with a humph and sits still. That lasts all of five minutes before she moves again, tucking her legs under her, then putting her weight on her right hip, then her left, shuffling around until he loses his patience.

“Could you stop fucking moving, what is your problem?” he snaps, looks over to her furrowed brows and mouth turned into a frown.

“I can’t get comfy!” she says, a slight whine in her voice, and he doesn’t know if she’s being bratty or if she really is just frustrated. 

“Just sit your ass down, (Y/N), it can’t be that hard.” 

“Whatever,” she mumbles and stays in the position she is in.

That is, until her squirming starts up again not even ten minutes later, with her sitting on her hands, then wringing them between her thighs, making him unable to focus on the movie. 

“That’s it,” he growls and without a second thought he hauls her up, ignores her screech of protest as he positions her between his thighs, holds her upper body tight while his legs secure hers.

“Nicholas, what the fuck?! Let me go!”

“What the fuck you so restless for, huh?” he breathes against her ear, but it’s in no way sexual. He needs her to hold still.

“Just let me go up to my room, please,” she whines, throws her head back, and he wonders what the hell has gotten into her when he remembers that, oops, he has been keeping her from going upstairs to play with her little friend.

His stepsister is horny, he realizes. 

A dirty smirk spreads along his face as he grips her tighter, makes her lean against him as he cages her in.

“Why? What’s so important in your room?” he asks, all fake cluelessness, loves watching her squirm when trying to come up with an answer.

She’s hot all over now, he can feel it, and he enjoys it massively. 

“Nothing, ‘m just sleepy, please- Nick, c’mon! This is fucked up!” 

She thrashes against him, but she’s got no chance, there’s a reason why he works out six days a week, and when she’s tired herself out enough, she goes limp against him.

“Tell ya what,” Nichola says, smug in how conversational he sounds, how nonchalant as he repositions her, puts her against his side, her wrists clutched in one strong hand and her leg hiked up against his stomach where he holds her thigh firmly, doesn’t let her get away. Her core is pressed against his hipbone, partially his thigh, and he feels like he’s dreaming as he does this, like this isn’t real life with real life consequences, that’s how badly he wants it. “If you need it that badly, you’ll give it to yourself against my hip, okay? But that’s the only way, (Y/N), you hear me? The only way.”

Her eyes are wide as saucers where they’re staring at him, mouth agape. She’s so small like this, clutched in his grip, and he wishes he could kiss her, but it’s not time for that, not yet. 

“W-what?” she whispers faintly.

“You heard me. If you need it, then this is how you’ll do it. And if not, then you’ll sit here, all still and pretty, and finish this movie with me. And when I let you go up to your room, you won’t touch, am I understood?”

“You’re fucking insane,” she spits, eyes on fire but her cheeks are red.

Nicholas chuckles, shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He continues watching the movie and pays her no mind apart from making sure his grip stays too tight for her to get out of. Her breathing is hard, audible, but he ignores it, acts like she’s the weirdo for thinking that this is weird, and when she finally starts squirming again, he has to bite his lip to suppress a smirk.

“Why are you making me do this?” she whispers through a huff, decidedly not looking at him.

“’m not making you do anything. It’s your decision whether you wanna be good or not.”

She scoffs. “You’re so messed up. I can’t believe I have to fucking live with you, put up with… with this shit.”

He shrugs, nonplussed. He knows she doesn’t mean it. Their relationship has never been lovey-dovey, but they’ve never been outright nasty to each other, not even during the hardest times of adjusting in the beginning. 

“Shut up and watch the movie, (Y/N),” he says, dismisses her, enjoys how she’s stewing in her anger and frustration.

It’s miniscule when it starts, the slight flexing of her thighs. Nicholas can feel it, but he doesn’t move, lets her do her thing in the hopes that she’ll get bolder with it, give herself over to her needs. He imagines her clenching her pussy, trying to get friction on her clit that way, wonders how she prefers to come. A strong exhale snaps him out of his thoughts, the way she moves further down his body, again, seeming like she’s settling in against him, but he knows she’s looking for a good angle. 

The fact that her subtility- usually a trait she possesses perfectly- goes flying out the window once she’s horny enough, needy enough, is something he stows away to use against her later, when he needs it. He’s observant, sue him, it’s just natural. 

A few minutes pass before she takes the next step, tightening her leg around him through a cough, ridiculously so. Why’d she have to cough, he thinks bemusedly, it’s not a sound she’s trying to cover up, but a movement. Wide hips and an undoubtedly needy cunt, that’s what she’s currently rolling against him, slowly and irregularly. He feels frustrated for her, there’s no way this is doing anything to help, and it shows in the way she huffs every now and then, impatience building.

“Just do it,” he whispers, keeps his voice calm and his chest even despite his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “You can, what’re you scared of?”

The breath rushing out of her lungs is shaky as she turns her head and buries her face in his shoulder, a groan escaping her.

“Please, Nick,” she whines- sobs, almost- as he trails his hand down to her tailbone, pushes her flush against him, encourages her to rotate her hips and rub herself against him.

“That’s a good girl, just like that,” Nicholas whispers, nose in her hair, smelling the faint scent of roses. “Give in, that’s it. You can make yourself feel good, it’s okay.”

She positions herself so she gets more of his thigh between her legs and starts humping him in earnest, breathing open-mouthed against his shoulder, and he so badly wishes she would look at him, wants to see the flush on her cheeks and the tears in her eyes. 

“Does that feel good? Tell me, (Y/N).” She nods, but he isn’t satisfied. “Use your words like a big girl, c’mon. Don’t go dumb on me yet.” 

Her whine is high-pitched as she takes a moment to gather the courage, but when she does speak, it makes his cock jump where it’s trapped in his pants. 

“Y-yeah, ‘s good… oh, oh fuck.”

When he’s sure she won’t bolt, he lets go of her arms, snakes his hands around her body and guides her movements. Her hands immediately hold onto his torso, face burying in his neck, moist breath against his skin. This feels so much like heaven that he’s dizzy with it. 

“Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it? Atta girl.”

Her movements are precise, he knows she’s found a way to make it good, to hit her desired spot just right by the way her body is bound tight, and her breathing is labored, words stuttered. That’s all he can see with her gorgeous face turned away from him, but he’ll get there. He grabs her ass and grinds his thigh into her pussy, grins at her surprised moan.

“Holy fuck,” she hisses, cants her hips back and forth across a good spot.

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that. Needed it badly, didn’t you? Your cunt’s been desperate all evening, huh?”

She nods, gives him a broken confirmation, whines when he threads his fingers into her hair and pulls.

“Nnngh, Nick, I need- ugh, I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. Look at me, (Y/N). C’mon, look at me, baby.” 

He’s pushing it with the nickname, but he doesn’t care, not when his dick is leaking steadily in his pants, needy to feel her. Not yet, though, he needs to play his cards right. 

When she looks up it knocks the breath out of his chest, the way her lips are bitten raw, her eyes glazed over, cheeks covered by a pink blush and a slight sheen of sweat. She’s so hot for it, and he’s so hot for her, and he needs her to come so he can go to his room and jerk off while thinking of exactly this scenario for… forever, probably. He’ll never get her out of his system, he just knows it, his baby stepsister anchored deep in his soul.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, resists the urge to kiss her, but he does put a thumb to her lips and lets her suck a kiss into the pad of it while her hips work tirelessly to get her pussy off. “From now on, whenever you need it this badly, you come to me, okay? You ask me and I’ll help you. Am I making myself clear, (Y/N)?”

She nods dazedly, furrows her brows as her hips start speeding up.

“Y-yeah, Nick, I’ll ask you. Need it, need t’a ask you, need it.”

Nicholas’ heart swells three sizes at her promise and he decides to let her tumble over the edge, grinds his thigh into her center and pushes her ass down to meet the thrusts, smiles wickedly when her eyes roll back.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yes-“

“Gonna cream your panties on your big stepbrother’s thigh? That what you need?” Forehead meeting his shoulder, she whines through a pathetic nod, lets him move her up and down before he whispers, “Let go baby. Show me how you come for your brother, c’mon.”

“Nicholas, fuck!”

The sound she makes when she releases rivals an angel choir, breathy and high and so full of ecstasy, he feels he could come right there with her, completely untouched. She rides it out, humps his thigh until she’s shuddering, until she collapses on top of his body to catch her heaving breath.

Nicholas can’t help but pull her tighter against him, hold her through her aftershocks, uncaring about the consequences, about being pushed away. She wouldn’t, no fucking way she would, not when she’s this vulnerable and he’s this willing to help her through any situation. 

They stay like that for a little before he reaches down to take her by the chin, pull her head up to look at him. There are unshed tears in her eyes, a wobbly lip, but he can’t be the one dealing with this now. She needs to settle in on her own. 

“You did so well, ‘m proud of you,” he smiles, shakes her face a little, “you okay?”

Taking a beat, she nods her head, albeit a little hesitantly. 

He smiles at that, lets go of her and darts his eyes to the stairs. 

“Good. Off you go then, get cleaned up and then get in bed. And no touching, yeah?” 

She gets up on wobbly legs, steadies herself against the back of the couch as she slowly makes her way to the stairs. Before she disappears, he calls her name, makes her turn around.

“And remember,” he says, grin smug, “you come to me. Always come to me.”

*** 

It’s summer, and it’s way too hot, and Nicholas usually finishes his daily swim before she even wakes up, but today he decides to take it easy and wait for her to take her usual place on the sunbed before he strides out to cool off in the pool.

They haven’t talked about what happened two nights ago, and they won’t, he knows, not explicitly anyway. Luckily, she isn’t avoiding him, the atmosphere when they’re around each other rather comfortable. It’s a little unnerving and a lot surprising, he must admit, but Nicholas has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

The way she’s watching him jump into the water, do his laps, lean against the side of the pool to take a breather- none of it goes unnoticed, and he enjoys it immensely. He doesn’t show off on purpose, doesn’t need to, sees her biting her lip at his usual demeanor, no exaggeration needed. When he’s counted his fifty, he heaves himself up and gets out of the pool, her eyes tracking the way his biceps bulge. A smirk makes its way onto his face, all smug, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.

Taking his towel, he wipes his face dry before spreading it across the sunbed next to hers, laying down.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, hiding his eyes behind a pair of shades.

“Already did, didn’t you?”

He hums. “Guess I did.”

“Want some tanning oil?”

“Depends,” he says, dares to, “will you rub it on me?”

Her snort is full of humor, thank God.  

“Fuck no.”

“Then no, thank you.”

He loves their little banter, is fond of it, endlessly grateful that it hasn’t changed since that one fateful night. The silence stretches as they lay there, letting the rays of the sun warm their skin, and soon enough he hears shuffling coming from her side. Looking up, he can see her gathering her stuff. 

“Leaving already?”

She nods. “It’s Nina’s birthday dinner tonight, and I still need to get ready.”

“You’ll show me your outfit before you leave, right?”

Even though he’s phrased it like a question, she knows damn well that it’s an order. This pleases him.

“Yes, of course.”

She’ll go to the shower as she always does, but before she can, he decides to let his little stepsister in on a secret. She’s earned it, after all, being such a good girl for him.

“Have I ever told you that the window in my room gives me a near perfect view of the inside of our outdoor shower?” he lies conversationally, giving her a blinding smile.

Every muscle in her body tenses momentarily before she turns her head towards him ever so slowly. Her hard swallow is audible, even out here, even to him.

“No,” she rasps, voice shaky, “You never told me that, Nicholas.”

“Hm. Well, just thought you should know.”

He leaves it at that, lays back on his back, trying hard not to smirk. He can sense how this admission is fucking her up on the inside, the shock and the danger tied to it. 

He’s so sure she’ll let it go, but as has become a theme with her, she takes him by surprise when she asks, “Did you only notice? Or… did you- did you watch? Me?”

Brave little girl, he’s almost proud.

Keeping his voice borderline bored, he replies, “I watched, a little. You don’t seriously believe I could look away from a pretty little thing like you, (Y/N).”

He pulls his shades down a little and eyes her body, gives her a nasty smirk before leaning back again.

When she huffs, stalks away to get into that damn shower, he gives her all of ten seconds before he’s after her, sneaking in behind her and catching her just in time to see her bikini top fall away. When she spots him leaning against the entrance, a gasp escapes her, hands flying up to cover herself.

The gesture makes him scoff, all ridicule. 

“Please,” he says, looks her in the eye, “nothing I ain’t seen before, sweetheart.”

A frown makes its way onto her face, petulant and bratty in a way she usually isn’t, and she slowly lowers her hands, gives him an eyeful of her tits. They’re even more gorgeous up-close, and he chuckles dirtily, looks his fill.

“That’s so unfair, Nick,” she tuts, “You look at mine but won’t show me yours?”

His smile softens a little. 

“You’re lookin’ at it,” he says, arms out as if to say: there ya go! “I haven’t seen anything past your waistline, (Y/N).” The look she gives him is skeptical, but he knows what sincerity looks like, knows how to make it visible on his own face. She believes him. “Unless, you want to, of course. In which case…”

A pointed glance at her bikini bottoms has her cross her arms over her chest, scoffing.

“You wish,” she snaps, turns around and ends the conversation.

He lets her.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. But remember your one rule, yeah? You need it, you ask your big brother for help. Got it?”

When she scoffs, doesn’t say anything, chooses to ignore him, he lets himself lose a tiny thread of patience. Three steps take him towards her where he grabs her soaking wet hair, really drives his fingertips into her scalp, and yanks her back so hard her knees buckle through her obnoxious shriek.

“I asked you something, (Y/N),” he hisses, uncaring that her frantic nod makes her cause herself pain, pulling at her hair like that.

She’s grabbing at his arm as she yelps, “Yes, yes I got it, Nicholas, I got it-“

“Good,” he grits, shoves her away from him and eyes her up and down before leaving the shower, leaving her to carefully pat at her surely burning scalp. 

He had to leave, or he would’ve done some damage. Nicholas hates when she ignores him. 

Despite everything, or maybe even because of it, she knocks on his door later to get his approval for her outfit. He takes his time looking at her, makes her twirl for him, reaches under her shirt to make sure the material is thick enough to keep her warm throughout the evening. Nicholas makes her bend down as he kisses her cheek sweetly, resting his forehead against her temple.

“’m sorry,” he apologizes again, truly feeling sour at his outburst, “you be careful, and call me if you need anything, yeah?”

She nods, doesn’t say anything for a long moment before she moves her face, presses a kiss to his forehead. A soft smile directed at him is the last thing he sees before she leaves. 

*** 

It’s been a while since he’s heard the buzzing from the other side of the wall, and now that it’s cutting through the comfortable silence on this warm evening, it makes red hot fury rise in his chest.

Nicholas would consider himself a patient, understanding young man, but with how she’s been playing him, he doesn’t see his positive traits lasting for much longer. He’s been clear, twice now- made her repeat his rule, even- and yet she’s in there, defiling her precious cunt with that… that fucking toy. He hates it.

Without thinking much about it he walks out of his room and steps in front of her door, that annoying sound following him like the plague, before he bursts into her bedroom, stopping in his tracks at the scene before him.

The scoff leaves his lips before he can hold it back. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She’s on her back, legs bent and in the air, hands hidden between her thighs. The wide-eyed look she gives him- full of fear and shock- makes his gut churn. That fucking sound. He needs it off, right now.

“That fucking-“ he snaps, walks over to her and snatches the damn thing out of her hands, turns it off and throws it on the bed. Impulse has him grip her throat, revel in the way her pulse is hammering against his palm, pull her close, terrified gaze meeting his stormy eyes. He doesn’t care. He told her, and now look at her disrespect. “What the fuck did I tell you, huh?”

“Nicholas, wh- what are you-“

He shakes her, not gently, grabs her hair in his other hand so she’d look at him. “What is your rule, (Y/N)? Hm? The one fucking rule I gave you, and here you are, breaking it, fucking-“ he blindly pats the bed in search for the toy, finds it, holds it up to her, “-for this? This thing? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

She doesn’t comprehend, he can tell, and although he usually loves when he’s got her speechless and dumb, now it just pisses him off beyond belief. There’s no way she didn’t know, no fucking way she didn’t know.

“Explain yourself,” he hisses, grips her tighter, wedges himself between her spread thighs and does his best to ignore the warmth emitting from that place. He’s willing to give her a chance, and she better not waste it. 

“I- I didn’t-“ she whimpers, swallows, “I didn’t know you were being- being actually serious, I… I was s-scared.”

The tears in her eyes are threatening to overflow and Nicholas feels his cock twitch at that. Good, let her cry.

He scoffs. “And you expect me to believe that, after everything?”

“What if I had been wrong and you had been fucking with me all along?” she yells, then, surprises him with the way she fights through the tremor in her voice. “You would’ve deemed me a freak and- and shunned me, and then what? Then I’d be without a brother, and- I’d hate- hate that. So much. Fuck!”

He can feel his gaze soften along with his grip on her hair, butterflies exploding in his stomach. His little stepsister needs him, needs him way more than he needs her, apparently, needs him in a way that is so beyond sexual that it makes his head spin. He can work with that, will work with that, until she’s nothing but a thin thread wrapped around his little finger, nothing but a miniscule puddle of putty in his wide palm. 

He suppresses a smirk, turns it into a warm smile, instead. 

“Oh, baby,” he coos, scoots closer and rests his forehead against hers, feels her heaving chest and warm breath, “you’ll never be without me again, you hear me? There’s nothing you could do that would turn me away from you. Now that we’re siblings, this shit is forever, do you understand? Tell me, (Y/N).”

Her eyes are screwed shut but she nods at his demand, inhales deeply and exhales slowly, calming herself like a big girl. His big girl.

“Ye-yeah, I guess,” she murmurs, “I do now.”

He hums, leans in and presses their mouths together, a dry press with explosive consequences. His heart starts hammering in his chest when she lets out a sigh against his lips, and he breaks away with a smile, looks her in the eye.

“Okay?”

She nods, licks her red, red lips. Another kiss, just as chaste. He won’t give in, not yet. 

“Now,” he starts, puts the bass back in his voice, “this… this can’t go unpunished, though, you get that, right?”

Her eyes widen while her brows furrow, confusion evident on that gorgeous face. He looks at her sheepishly.

“W-why? It wasn’t, like, on purpose.”

Nick chuckles, finds the toy easily, turns it over in his hands. It’s slightly sticky where it’s been pressed against her, but he doesn’t mind. He intends to make it messier. 

“Accidents can happen, of course,” he drawls, allows, “but this early on in our relationship? Nah, don’t think so.”

With that he switches the toy on, leans back and pushes her thighs apart, moves slow and deliberate. Her gaze stays questioning up until he presses the buzzing vibrator against her cunt fully, watches when her leg twitches. She’s beautiful down here, wet and swollen, lips that will frame the fat length of his cock nicely, a sweet little clit that he’ll love to torture to completion. He’s got so many plans for her, but for now he ignores the salivating of his mouth and focuses his eyes on her rolled back ones, turns the vibe up a notch and smirks wickedly.

“You wanted to come, little sister?” he asks, chuckles darkly, “I’ll make you come. Over and over and over, until you beg me to stop.” Another press of the button, another violent lurch of her upper body that he holds down no problem, “And when you do start to beg,” he hisses, presses closer, revels in her whining and gasping, “I will ignore it, and make this pussy sob for me again, you hear me?” 

Nicholas smiles as she comes, spasms so hard he almost loses his tight grip on her, but thankfully his body is big enough to keep her thighs apart around it. Where only minutes ago he hated the sound of this little tool, he now ignores it expertly, presses it against her clit and appreciates the help it gives him. Her wails, the punching of her fists against the mattress through her next orgasms would alert everyone in the house if it weren’t empty, and he can’t wait to hear those sounds when he’s got her impaled on his dick.

“Please, no more, no-“

“Take it,” he says, flicks his wrist, “Give me more, c’mon.”

“Nicholas, I can’t!” she sobs, grabs the sheets to hold on to something, to bear the assault on her cunt better. “Hurts, Nick, please, hurts!”

“Good,” he smiles, turns it all the way up after her fifth peak, “Let it hurt, baby, let this pussy submit to me. Let her say her goodbyes to this goddamn thing,” he can’t help but snarl, “I’ll be all you need from now on, yeah, everything this pussy needs. Your big brother, your owner, all in one, huh?” 

Her last orgasm has her thrash against his hold, throwing her head back, but he keeps his hand right where it hurts the most, forces her to ride it out until her bones shake with it. 

When he finally, finally turns the toy off and tosses it aside, he carefully gathers her shivering body in his arms, holds her face against his neck and rocks her back and forth. Nick makes sure her legs stay spread where they’re shaking uncontrollably, makes sure nothing toucher her overstimulated pussy. It’ll take her a while to stop crying, he guesses, he doesn’t want to draw it out more than necessary. 

Say what you want about him, but he’s no monster. 

When her breath has evened out and her tremors have subsided, he lets his hand find her hair and grip it once more, firmly, not cruelly. Looking into her eyes, he smiles, kisses her lips, whispers, “What’s your rule, little sister?”

She shudders but replies, “Wh-when I want to come, I tell you. I ask you for help.” 

He nods, gets up slowly, adjusts his rock-hard cock in his pants. Her wide eyes track every movement, but he stays resilient, turns to leave the room but changes his mind. Two steps take him back to her where he grabs her, pries her mouth open forcefully, spits inside where a whimper is fighting its way out, cracks his hand across one rosy, tear-streaked cheek and gets off on the shocked sob that escapes her.

Straightening out, he moves to the door.

“And don’t you dare ever fucking forget it.”

*** 

It’s not like he’s got some masterplan when it comes to her, it’s not like he’s calm and collected and in control of his mind and body, it’s just that he has strong instincts and even stronger impulses and he can’t help but act on them, not in his life outside of this house he’s sharing with her, but here? Definitely, evidently. 

He isn’t in control, not really, because he loses his mind little by little, every day. When she passes by him on her way to the fridge and drives her hand through his hair, when she smiles at him from where she’s laying on the sunbed, when she lets him watch her shower. The way she asks if he approves of her outfit, if she should make him food, if she can have a hug. 

She’s never asked for a kiss, but he gives her some anyway, knows she wants them by the way she melts into the touches, lets his tongue roam around in that sinful mouth, lets him pull her closer by the grip on her ass. 

The first time Nicholas gives her his cock, not fully, but pushes it between her lips, is when they’re under the shower.

It goes like this: she beckons him to follow her into the outdoor shower so he can oversee that she really does get clean, as he does often, points to her body parts and smiles when she drags her loofah along that spot. He helps her where she can’t reach, gets her back for her, the backs of her thighs, scrubs her clean really well. He’s in his swimwear so he doesn’t mind getting wet, pulls her against his chest, her ass pressed to his crotch, soaps up her tits, massages them, pinches her hard nipples and chuckles at her moan.

Strong hands drift down lower, over her stomach and down to where he knows her cunt is already clenching, getting wet. 

“Have to clean this dirty pussy as well, don’t we?” he whispers before spreading her open with one hand, driving between her folds with the other.

He keeps this step clinical for the most part, takes his time as her breaths starts to get shallow, all the way up until she gives in and with her bottom lip clutched between those perfect teeth asks him, “Big brother, can you please make me come?”

Oh, he’ll never tire of this.

“Of course, baby,” he replies, because this is for him as much as her. Moreso for him, probably. 

Her twitching clit feels hard under his pointer finger where he’s circling it, drawing down to her hole to gather some of her juices to make the glide better, making sure to keep her out of the spray of the water. As expected, her eyes are glued to what he’s doing between her wide hips, moaning softly with every swipe of his finger.

“Mmm, what have we got here?” he asks teasingly as he lets two of his fingers circle her entrance, two because he knows she can take it, “A hungry little hole, hm?” 

They push in easily, make her breath hitch, and he maneuvers them so they’re standing under the shower stream, so it’s aimed right at her exposed clit. His stepsister spasms, but he holds her tightly. The water banging down on her swollen nub, his fingers pressing against that gorgeous spot inside of her, his voice whispering delicious filth in her ear- she’s naïve if she ever thought she stood a chance.

She comes with a silent cry, lets him bear the weight of her shaking body as she lets the sensations overcome her, moans as he talks her through it, good fucking girl, that’s my babysis, if only I had known about how sweet this cunt is, give it to me, just like that, tight little hole and it’s all for me.

When she sinks to her knees slowly, he doesn’t protest. Unsure if the wetness on her face is from the water or her tears, he decides to take it easy on her, pats her head and soothes her as she buries her face in his soaked swim shorts. She finds the tent in them easily, mouths at it, looking up at him from under her clumped lashes.

He scoffs, fondness in every dangerous syllable as he says, “Don’t bare your throat to me unless you want me to fuck it.”

But his little girl, God bless her neediness, soldiers on, licks a stripe up to his navel so his hands would have enough space to pull his shorts down. Mind hazy with the view she’s giving him- her little body beneath him, submitting on her knees- he grabs his cock as it springs free, feeds it into her panting mouth and groans when she doesn’t stop swallowing him down, lets him into the depths of this fuckhole. The bobbing and sucking that immediately follow has him hold on to the wall, knees weak.

“Yeah, yes,” he laughs, delirious with lust, “That’s a good girl, fuck. Who’s been fucking my little sister, huh? Who’s been teaching you to take cock this good?”

She lets him go with a pop, doesn’t say anything as she bunches four of her fingers up and shoves them down her throat, down to the knuckles, not a single gag or splutter leaving her mouth. His ears ring at the sight, and he’d never call her this out loud, but he considers himself more than blessed to have such an eager and naturally talented whore on his hands. The thought of her standing in front of the bathroom mirror, gagging on her own fingers, practicing for her stepbrother’s cock, training that throat for its intended use, spit and tears on the determined lines of her face, makes his pulse quicken and balls throb.

“Fuck,” he growls, grabs her by the hair and shoves in, her nose nestled in his pubes nicely. She struggles, but not much, and he realizes that he wouldn’t care even if she did. He gave her a fair warning. “Fucking perfect, yeah, sucking me so well, take that dick, just like that. ‘m gonna load up your mouth nicely, baby, gonna feed you full, gonna take days for the taste of my jizz to leave your molars, fuck-“

Nick’s orgasm crashes over him full force, has him bend and press even deeper into her mouth, laughing through her whines and protests, the slapping of her hands against whatever body part of his she can reach. She can’t breathe because of him, but he, as well, can’t breathe because of her, so it checks out. When he lets her go, she scrambles away from him, coughs through forceful inhales, wide and scared eyes looking up at him.

“Told you,” he pants, shrugs, “you wanted it.” 

She doesn’t say anything- even if she did, it’d barely come out, he knows, voice shot to shit. He washes himself quickly, rids his skin of the stickiness of her spit, before grabbing her by her upper arm and roughly hauling her to her feet.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me take care of you,” he says, starts washing her sloppily, and he was right. Her voice is hoarse.

“Could do it more gently,” she grumbles, yelps when he bites at her shoulder, soothes the spot with his tongue.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers over the noise of the shower, “That was… talent.”

She chuckles shily, turns to look up at him.

“Can I have a kiss?”

His gut clenches as his face explodes in a smile, pulling her in to kiss her deeply. The way she melts into him, lets herself be held despite knowing what those hands are capable of, makes his heart jump for her.

It’s a sticky situation, but he’s got the upper hand, still.

He has to make sure it stays that way.

*** 

“This tastes vile.”

“No, it doesn’t! Sweet and salty is a classic combination!”

“The textures are weird, though. I need to chew my popcorn thoroughly so I wouldn’t choke on it, and the Malteser is… distracting.”

A snort. “You three years old, Nicholas? Gotta focus on chewing that bad, huh?”

“You little-“

“Ah, stop! That tickles, Nick- ah, no! No, don’t-“

“I’ll show you three years old!”

Laughter, panting, snickering, silence.

“Watch the damn movie, you brat.”

“I’m all out of Maltesers now.”

“Good, that’ll keep you from coming up with these weird concoctions.”

“Tsk. Jerk.”

The sound of lips smacking. 

*** 

Their parents come back earlier than expected. Nicholas isn’t mad at that, but things will become trickier with her now. They’ll have to be sneakier, more careful, but the risk of getting caught makes something hot clench in his stomach. No doubt, they’ll manage well.

He’s asked to pick them up from the airport and he doesn’t object, takes his stepsister with him. The drive is comfortable, she plays her favorite songs, he hums along.

“Oh, Nicky,” their mom sighs when she pulls away from a hug, smiling sheepishly, teeth whiter in contrast with her tan. There’s two people standing next to their parents, Nicholas doesn’t know them. “We told Sandra and Marcus that we’ll drive them home, we didn’t expect (Y/N) to come with you.” 

Oh. Oops. Six people, five seats, that’ll be a tight fit. 

“We can also just take a cab-“

“Nonsense,” their dad interrupts Sandra, “(Y/N) will just sit in Nicholas’ lap, right? Y’all don’t mind, do you, kids?” 

The look he gives them, stern in good old Chavez fashion, leaves no room for argument.

“Um…” her eyes are darting from him to their dad, but Nicholas just shrugs, does his best to look nonchalant. 

“’course not, it’s a short drive. Let’s just hope we don’t get caught.”

His dad brushes him off before he motions for their friends to start walking with them, Nicholas leading the way. (Y/N) stays behind with her mom, talking quietly. The whole way home with her ass perched on his lap? He wills his dick to calm down where it’s chubbing up in his pants, to no avail. His body does what it wants. Having arrived at the car, their dad puts the suitcases in the trunk while the others pile in one after the other, Nicholas’ sister the very last to sit down, getting comfortable on his lap. He groans when she moves roughly to get situated, a small apology falling from her lips. He pinches her side for that, causing her to yelp, gets snapped at by their dad for it. 

“Behave, y’all,” he grumbles, making Nicholas smirk.

(Y/N) still gets uncomfortable when dad scolds her, too apologetic for her own good, but Nick knows there’s very little heat behind the roughly spoken words. It’s what he has in common with his father, he supposes.

They start driving and Nicholas ducks his head as much as he can so they wouldn’t look too suspicious in case they drive by a cop car. The grownups are talking loudly amongst themselves, and he loops his hands around her waist, holds her steady. Her head barely touches the top of the car, and he loves just how small she is. The urge to kiss at the back of her neck is huge, but he resists. He’ll just have to sneak into her room later and put her on her knees, fuck her throat the way he’s been doing for the past few days.

Not much time passes before she starts squirming.

“Y’alright?” he asks her, loosening his hold in case it puts her body in an uncomfortable position.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. All good.”

A beat passes before she does it again, presses her weight down on his lap, making him clench his teeth. There’s no way she can’t feel his boner, and there’s no way he’ll do anything about anything right here, right now. Fucking tease, his sister is. 

“Can you quit it?” he hisses lowly when she honest to God grinds her ass down, makes him dizzy for a split second. The inseam of his jeans has never felt tighter and his dick’s never been more familiar with discomfort than just now.

The giggle she lets out gets muffled by her palm as she glances back at him, all wide-eyed and falsely innocent, and she shrugs.

“Sorry, big brother, ‘s just a little uncomfy like this.”

The way she purrs it, that bittersweet name, makes his gut churn. He has half a mind to keep from pinching her sides, grabbing her hair and shaking her so she’ll stop her shenanigans. If she thinks that she can act out now just because their parents are back home, lulled into false security, she’s got another thing coming.

“That’s a great song, dad. Can you turn it up a little?” he calls, smiling when his dad obliges.

“That’s my boy,” the older man says, ever the rock’n’roll fan.

Now that the music’s loud enough, distracting enough, Nicholas dares to put his lips next to her ear, hiss out a warning. 

“You keep this little charade up and I’ll hurt your cunt until you’re crying on my tongue when we get home, (Y/N).”

It can be interpreted as something sexy, tinged with a little bit of sultry, but she knows better. When he mentions pain, he means pain. She knows that damn well, scared despite the fact that she gets off on it. Nicholas prefers to keep his girl on her toes.

“Sorry,” she whispers, a tilt to her mouth, but when their dad accidentally overlooks a pothole and the car jumps, she lets her weight press down harder than necessary, grabs his thigh to steady herself but digs her little finger in just a little too deep. 

Alright then, he’s warned her.

Her skirt is wide, frilly enough to hide his hand sneaking down between his own legs, up to reach between hers, his eyes trained on the unassuming guests next to them. The couple seems too preoccupied to pay them any mind, though, and he uses that to his advantage, presses his knuckles into his stepsister’s pussy and rubs roughly. Clever little girl, hides her yelp of surprise behind a cough, same way he hides his smirk when he feels the damp fabric, feels the way her clit hardens under his merciless touch.

“You stay quiet now,” he whispers, pulsing his touch against her skin, teasing her into an approaching orgasm. Not that he’ll let her come, not now and not later, for that matter. 

Where only minutes ago her grinding and rocking pissed him off, he now enjoys feeling her chase her pleasure, enjoys how hard she’s trying to be subtle. A quick glance towards the others tells him that nobody is looking at them, still enjoying the music, and her face in the rearview mirror is stoic as well, just a tiny furrow between her brows a potential giveaway, but only to those who know what’s going on, only to Nicholas. 

“Good baby, my good fuckin’ baby,” he rasps, clutches at her pussy and squeezes, makes her feel it.

Another whimper, another cough.

“Y’alright, sweetheart?” their mother then asks, turning down the music, forcing Nicholas to still his hand and hold his breath in hopes of not getting caught. “You’ve been coughing an awful lot during the drive.”

(Y/N) just smiles, shakes her head.

“It’s nothing, mom, just something in my throat. We were watching a movie and having popcorn before picking you guys up, must be a kernel that’s stuck or something.”

Her mom looks back, gaze worried but she nods, placated. 

The rest of the ride home doesn’t take long, thank God, and he lets their parents settle back in, assures them that they’ve eaten, tells them they’ll finish the movie they had started in his room before ushering her upstairs, mildly annoyed at her sudden inability to walk properly.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” he hisses, pushes her up the stairs.

“’m so wet, my legs feel like jello,” she whimpers, and he almost forces her on her knees right there in the hallway, but alas, he’s got to keep his very last thread of patience alive if he wants to train her to be his perfect little doll. She won’t learn otherwise, he fears.

“You’re cute,” he smiles before pushing his door open, pulling her into the room and immediately making sure she falls onto his bed- made and ready, for a change- watching him as he locks the door. “You’ll be cuter when I’m done with you, though.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to ride her skirt up, pull her panties down and stuff them in her mouth, wet patch first. Her pussy is glistening in front of him, and he wastes no time putting his mouth on it and sucking hard, the pain of the blood rushing to the surface making her groan. Pain, he promised, pain, she’ll get. She peaks quickly but he doesn’t let her go over the edge, pulls away and lands a nasty slap on her pussy that leaves her shaking, leaves her throbbing. 

“That’s what you fuckin’ get you goddamn tease,” he snaps before continuing his pattern.

He eats, waits, slaps. Eats, waits, slaps. 

Holds his palm over her cunt and presses, moves, watches her writhe with the cotton hanging from her mouth, little sister mouth filled with little sister panties. His cock throbs for it. 

When she’s actively crying, sobbing her little heart out, he throws her legs in the air and commands her to hold them up. It’s a testament to her desperation, the way she obliges without complaint, the way she’s been doing as told without a single tone of complaint. Not taking advantage of that would be a shame. Two moves and his cock is free, hanging heavy between his shaky legs but he doesn’t care, grabs it and jerks himself before his knees can give out.

“That’s a good girl, present yourself to your big brother,” he moans, looks at her puffy pussy and her wide, teary eyes, the way she’s begging with them, eyeing the blur of his hand over his fat dick before settling her pleading gaze onto his. “Gonna come, gonna cover you in it, mark my territory and make you smell like me, y’want that, (Y/N)? Want everyone to know that your sweet cunt belongs to your big brother?”

This kink is getting out of hand, but he doesn’t give a single fuck, because where he is sick and rotten, she is, too.

She nods through a moan and there he is, spurting his hot semen all across her slapped-red cunt, covering what’s his from the outside, for now. She gasps when the streaks hit her skin, rocks back and forth while he rides out his climax, and when he’s done, all panting and heavy-lidded, he drives his fingers through the mess and brings it up to her lips, smearing it on her underwear.

“You know this one already, don’t you?” he says, breath heavy as he continues to clean her that way, soiling her panties. “That’s what you did with the thong I ruined, didn’t you? Sucked my jizz out of the lace like a come-addicted little slut, didn’t you? Huh?”

A single tear rolls down her shame-tinted cheek, and he groans through a chuckle.

“Show me. Show me how you did it.”

The ruined cotton gets pulled out between her lips before her tongue finds it, licks the globs away roughly, sweet lips pursing over the material before her little cheeks hollow, sucking his juices out. If he hadn’t been using her every day, he’d be rock hard again now, but alas, his balls are empty and the contents of them are currently being greedily sucked down her talented throat. Nicholas is one lucky guy.

When she’s done, he rips the panties out of her mouth and kisses her bruisingly, hungrily, devours the taste of their combined fluids and moans when she pulls him close. Being held onto is one of Nicholas’ favorite things in the world, the sheer need in such a simple gesture, but nobody’s body has ever felt this right around his. 

“What the fuck,” she whispers against his lips, laughing through the tears that are staining her cheeks. “I feel like I came but I didn’t. What…”

He smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You’ll be coming soon enough, baby, this was just a little taste of what happens when you piss me off. And you did piss me off, that teasing in the car was- it was almost unbearable. Nearly fucked you right then and there.”

Her smile is small, almost timid, but it vanishes quickly. Nicholas tilts his head in question and gets an answer immediately, albeit reluctantly. 

“Why… Why haven’t you? Fucked me yet, I mean. We’ve been doing this, us, for a while now and you’ve never… I don’t- I’m just wondering, ‘s all.” 

A stutter in his chest tells him his heart’s melting for her, the insecure tilt to her voice, and he has to try hard not to jump her right then and there. Leave it to his girl to catch him off guard, rip at the reigns he’s clutching onto so tightly. He makes sure to keep his voice soft, tries to make her understand without spooking her, now that she’s eating from the palm of his hand like this. 

“You’re the sweetest thing, do you know that?” he muses, taps her chin when she looks away. “I just don’t wanna rush anything. I wanna take my time with you, make it real good for you… You can understand that, right?”

It’s not really a question, but she nods like the good girl she is.

“You that desperate for my cock, (Y/N)?” he can’t help but tease, earning himself a swat to the shoulder. They laugh together, his favorite sound. 

“I was just curious, Nick. Usually guys are, well-“

“I’m not just any guy though, okay?” his voice is stern now, all humor wiped from it. “I won’t treat you like they did. I’m your stepbrother, I care about you.”

The warm smile she gives him zaps him right down to his toes, leaning in so she can kiss him the way she wants to. They make out a little, enjoy each other. 

He makes a mental note, smug about her needing him so badly. A lot can be done with that, and he plans to see just how much fun it’ll bring him.

*** 

The sneaking around is even harder than he imagined, their parents insisting to make up for lost time and not parting from them for even a day. It’s visits to the park, family barbecues, movie nights, the whole shebang. He barely manages to get a kiss in when they’re passing each other in the hallway, a slap to the ass when she walks out of the bathroom before he walks in. 

A feeling of restlessness comes with it, paired with the irrational fear of false scrutiny. What if it’s written all over his face, he thinks, that he wants her, whenever he looks at her, that he’s fighting off the urge to kiss her whenever she’s close, to rest his hand atop her thigh and feel her muscles twitch, to lean his arm against hers when they’re standing close, to bury his nose in her hair and inhale the chamomile scent of her latest favorite shampoo? Poker faces take years to construct, and he’s used the time wisely, but what if, now that he has her, his has crumbled to pieces at his unsteady feet?

So Nicholas adjusts, turns away when he catches her looking for too long, keeps the touching to a minimum, makes sure to roll his eyes at her whenever their mom is around, makes sure to let some sour jokes slip whenever their dad listens in, just to keep the illusion up.

He makes do, as does she, even though he knows she doesn’t like it.

“I ain’t mean it like that, you know that,” he cajoles when she gets mad for real, squeezes at his heart with one well-placed pout. 

“I know, ‘s just… it sucks, y’know?”

Well, if that ain’t true.

He holds her through some big feelings, as a big brother should, kisses it better whenever the opportunity arises. 

“Is she still not up? What’s gotten into her, I told her the time of departure!”

“Relax, mom, we’ve still got another forty minutes,” Nicholas says through a mouthful of an apple, scrolling on his phone. It pings with an invite to a party next Saturday, and he saves the info to think it over later. 

“Oh, you know how long she takes in the bathroom,” mom grumbles, fleets about in the kitchen to pack the snacks and sandwiches, making sure they’re set for the day at the lake. Nicholas doesn’t know where his dad is. “Go wake her, please, Nick? I’ve still got so much to pack.”

“Do you need my help with that?”

“No, I need to not be interrupted. Go get (Y/N), please?”

He sighs and gets up, throws the apple core away. Sticky hands find his jeans and he wipes them thoughtlessly, much to the dismay of the woman who still does his laundry, as he makes his way up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He knocks twice- just for shits and gigs, uncaring about whatever privacy his sister thinks she gets in this house- before opening her door and stopping in his tracks. 

Slow steps take him inside, shutting the door behind himself, and the sight before him makes his stomach clench. She’s in her tank top, one boob spilling out from the material, and her little panties, framing her cheeks perfectly from where she’s got one leg bent. Her face is smushed in the pillow so her mouth purses in a pout, half open, red and drooly. 

It takes him a split second to make the decision. They haven’t talked about it, but they never talk about anything, not really. He takes and she gives, that’s their dynamic, that’s who they are. So it’s guilt-free when he walks over to her bed, pulls his joggers and underwear down, grips his cock to stroke it to hardness. 

The memory of how he had her throat around his cock every night before the return of their parents gets him there fast, makes him miss it even more now, the need pooling low in his gut. 

There’s precome dripping from his slit and he bends his knees a little so her face is in front of his crotch, smears his cockhead on those full lips, smirks when she scrunches her nose up before her face relaxes again. Heartbeat in his throat, he does it again, groans when her tongue darts out this time. Her reflexes seem to revolve around fucking him up, making the darkest of thoughts push to the forefront of his mind, even in her sleep.

“Good fuckin’ girl, fuck,” Nick murmurs under his breath, jerks his cock faster and makes sure to bump against her lips on every upstroke, gloss her gorgeous pout with his essence. She’s so adorable, and all his to ruin. 

He strokes himself a little faster, gets closer and pulls his cock up so his balls would bump against her chin, her nose, wherever they can reach on every upstroke. Laughing isn’t an option but he’d like to, let the dirty sound out, indulge fully in how he’s humiliating her without her knowledge. Maybe he’ll ask her if he can film her next time. He loves her, she knows that, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, would only do all the baddirtywrong things that make her pussy clench for him.

One hand reaches out to grab at her face and pinch her cheeks, create a delicious pout that serves as the perfect little cup when he finally spills onto her face, onto her lips, streaks the inside of her mouth and groans lowly when her lashes flutter around her slowly opening eyes.

“Wh-“

“Shut up,” he hisses, grabs her rougher as he rides out his orgasm, “take it, little girl, take it, have my come, taste it, atta girl, there she is-“

“Nicholas!” the whine bubbles out of her throat, somewhat garbled through the come covering her mouth, and she scrunches her face up when he lets her go, exhales deeply before holding his softening dick out to her.

“Well?” he asks, expectant look on his face and the ball of pride in his chest explodes into a million fuzzy feelings when she only contemplates for a second before taking him in her mouth, cleaning him up.

She swallows all he gave her, collects everything from around her mouth onto her tongue, lips smacking at the taste.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, no real heat behind her words. Her voice is shot from sleep, all raspy and adorable.

He bends down to press a kiss against her forehead.

Nick gives her a shrug.

“You got my come, don’t complain,” he tells her, matter-of-factly, “also, mom wants you downstairs ASAP. We’re leaving soon.” 

Her annoyed huff is amusing to him, but he leaves her be for now, wants to keep the teasing for later. 

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” He waits for her to look at him. “I’ll make it up to you later. Come find me in the outdoor shower when you’re done, we’ll make it quick.”

The blush on her cheeks stays with him all the way downstairs. 

TAGLIST:

@nicholaschavezslut69 / @blackynsupremacy / @motherismotheringggg / @lalavenderangel / @niteskysx / @nicholaslut / @nicholaschavezbby / @emluvsuxo 🖤

[gay-dorito-dust]

wahhhh reading that hurts me 😭 could you please write a part 2 where they all find out that it was bill who possessed reader?

Tag list: @babypeapoddd @i-am-tiredd @sly-thou-pookie @x-seyaa @sweetlumpkinseedlin @kawaii1369 @roo024 @lightmaren

Part 1 right here

‘What?’ Ford asked.

Bill cackled. ‘For someone as smart as you sixer, you sure are stupid as not to notice the obvious signs of whenever I’m possessing someone. I mean out of everyone you should know better.’

Ford clenches his jaw. All this time he had thought you had betrayed him when in actually you had been loyal to him and his family, up until he and his brother ostracised you even more then you already were for the past thirty years. He made you feel like shit, and he could tell that Stanley felt the same amount of guilt as he clenched his fists in silent anger; Ford then levels Bill with a glare. ‘You possessed y/n! My assistant!’ He roared at his once muse.

Bill only chuckles. ‘Correction!WAS your assistant Stanford! And pushed you through the portal whilst wearing the face is someone you cared for,’ Bill then gasps as he looked at the guilt ridden faces of the Pines Family and feeling the joy bubble up in his triangular body, the look of defeat and realisation was all too sweet, ‘Oh wait! Someone you once cared for before throwing them out like they were nothing to you, not once letting them the space to explain what had happened and how I tricked them into making a deal with me.’ He finished by pretending to wipe a tear from his one eye after cackling some more at the hilarity of the situation.

Humans loved to cause more problems within problems they didn’t fully handle properly as they stockpiled on top of each other, giving him the leeway to get what he wants without issue or confrontation from the pathetic family.

Possessing you during a brotherly squabble was perfect! Ford had cut all ties with him and decided to call upon his idiotic brother- as though that would’ve ever worked in any timeline- to help hide his work but when things didn’t go Ford’s way, they fought. You were trying to stop the fight and bill took advantage of that by claiming he could help you stop the fight, fat chance, he was going to make it worse and leave you to be his scapegoat! It was a brilliant plan to make up for multiple set backs thanks to Ford’s sudden realisation of his hermit tendencies, everything was out in place for the ultimate betrayal by the hands of Ford’s assistant; you!

Bill found that Tragedy was at its finest when the betrayal comes from someone you love and it did.

‘They didn’t-‘ Ford began.

‘Say anything?’ Bill interrupts, causing Ford and Stan to glare at him as the demon cackle as he got in close to their shared triangle shaped prison, staring them down with his one eye, unblinking. ‘You and your piece of shit brother over here didn’t even let them speak! Never less believe them when they were telling the truth!’ He roared, ‘and now you don’t know whether they’re even alive so that you can apologise to them!’

Mabel slams against the bars of hers and dippers prison. ‘they’re alive!’ She shouts and Bill now looks at her, amused.

‘How can you be so sure shooting star? For all you know they could be dead, cursing your grunkles names as they die with an unsatisfying end.’ Bill mocked her as she falters in her resolve, he was right, how could she be certain that you were alive when Gravity Falls was literally on fire and demons from another dimension were running amok? She couldn’t and that’s what upset her the most.

‘Because we know our great aunt/uncle better than you bill and we know they’re alive!’ Dipper pips up this time as he laid a reassuring hand on his sister’s shoulder, smiling at her as she smiled back at him in thanks for having her back. Bill looks at the twins, hating their optimism and hope that you were okay and decided to destroy this by reaching into thin air and producing a realistic illusion of your unmoving body before them.

‘Are you so sure now pine tree? They don’t look very much alive to me!’ Bill exclaims as Mabel, Dipper, Stan and Ford could only look up the body that Bill claimed was yours in disbelief and shock. This couldn’t be how it ended, could it? They still had to apologise to you after all for everything and make it up to you however you wished!

‘No, no this is some foul trick of yours bill!’ Ford screamed as he threw himself against the bars, forcing himself not to cry at the sight of your body while seething with rage and a need to avenge your supposed death. ‘You sick son of a bitch!’ Stanley joined in as he felt even more useless than ever, he felt the most guilt out of everyone as his eyes seemed to refused to move from your supposed body. You couldn’t be dead, he refused to believe such bullshit lies, you were still alive and fighting with the rest of them! He knew it, deep down in his heart he knew it to be true!

‘No.’ Mabel cried as she tried to reach out to you as Dipper held her while silently crying himself, vowing to take down bill now more than ever as he tugged his hat down to cover his eyes. You were the most encouraging person he’s ever met and now you were gone, you asked him and Mabel to trust you when contemplating to stay with Stan, and they did believe and they never regretted doing so because you were right! You were always right and yet in the end you died thinking they hated you more than anything; which wasn’t true! Far from it and now…now they can’t make it up to you, they had lost their chance.

Bill had won over the pines family once again.

[hood-ex]

Here's the annoying thing about Dick and Jason's relationship, right, it's that, based on the past shit Jason did to not only Dick, but to the other bats as well, Dick should want little to nothing to do with Jason. None of the bats should want anything to do with Jason.

But starting in N52 and growing stronger in Rebirth, Dick and Jason have had moments of trusting and relying on each other. Hell, they have shared trauma together (Bane hanging). And it's hard to hate some of it completely because, when it comes to Dick and Jason, there is that sense of loss for the brotherly relationship that could've been had Jason not died. And so it's bittersweet to get some of those sweeter moments between them now because it reflects what could've been there all this time had things been different.

At the same time, you remember what Jason did to Dick and to Dick's loved ones, and it feels wrong for them to be where they are today. But then the Dick and Robin Jason feels hit you, and it's like, damn, it is nice to see them working together or saving each other.

Is the relationship they have now deserved though? And then you get mentally teleported back to N52 and the terrible way Tim and Jason's relationship was handled, and how things were downplayed in order to let Jason integrate back into the family more easily, and it's like ugh.

It feels like being on the most unhinged teeter-totter of all time where you're wildly swinging back and forth on whether you can accept Dick and Jason's current relationship progression or not.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Metaphorical in-law sleepover

Barbie dolls: Touya Todoroki m(after war) x gn!reader

Word:1.5k

inspo

Summary: Shoto hangs out at you and Touya's apartment for comfort after his dad yelled at him

Warnings: brotherly love don't be weird, um after rehab and war Touya 🎉 he's my fav I j wanna bite him, sex mentioned in front of family members but it's nothing crazy it's j like a conversation that would maybe happen alin a sex positive household, that you and Touya now are I've made that decision for you, you and Touya would definitely be the couple that show up to the family reunion and hour late and couldn't give less of a shit bc you're so fucking lucky I'm here at all, um probably a little off from canon but Touya says his siblings hid in his room when their parents fought, I've decided it happened, yappa yappa

An unexpected consequence of having an apartment with your lover Touya was the family visits. Fuyumi and Natsuo weren't terribly frequent. They dropped in occasionally to take a break from the family troubles, breathing slowly on your couch as you and Touya watched from the kitchen. Shoto however was an entirely different situation. 

Enji seemed to find him the most angering, their fights were the most frequent. You weren't even sure if some of them were fights, more of Enji yelling and Shoto listening. Before you and Touya got an apartment, the fights ended with Shoto practicing or sitting in his room staring at the wall in silence. Now he threw his things into a backpack and walked to your apartment. It was frequent enough you gave him a key. 

No, you weren't shocked when he was waiting patiently on your couch when you got home but it still made your heart sting. You wished he felt safe enough at home to stay there but you were glad he found comfort in your home. 

Fuyumi and Natsuo joined you three for dinner, all crowded around the small table you had gotten for you and Touya. They didn't mind that their knees and dishes touched, happy they could laugh and feel free even if it was for a minute.

After they left you tucked Shoto into his makeshift bed on the couch, gently brushing your lips against his forehead. You brushed his hair with your fingers, smiling at the relaxed sigh that followed from him. Touya followed after you, smacking his hand on top of Shoto’s head and ruffling his hair around. Shoto groaned and shooed his hand away. Touya snorted and headed for your shared bedroom. 

You gently held Touya's face as you both lay in bed, the blankets pulled over your shoulders. His hand was resting on your back, arm over your side. 

“I'm going to tear your father a new one,” you whispered like a love confession. Maybe it was. Touya slowly opened his eyes, the blue somehow still shining in the dark. He sighed happily. It was a love confession. 

“I would help but it'd probably land me another few months of rehab,” Touya muttered. You hummed in understanding, gently dragging your thumb over the scar under his eye. Touya sighed through his nose, content. 

“I can't believe he treats Sho like this. How can you look at his little face and not want to just squish him and give him candy?” you thought of Shoto's young face. He was too kind and gentle to be treated the way he was. Touya rubbed your back with his warm hand, nodding against his pillow. You pulled your hand from his face, tugging at his white hair.

You still hadn't decided if you liked him more with white or black hair. You liked his scars a little more healed and more moisturized. You never minded them but he looked healthier without them looking so dry. You didn't mind any of the new changes because there was a new sound he made. It was quiet and barely distinguishable.  A breath of air that slowly pulled in before pushing out his nose, a sigh that told you he felt complete. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek, teetering between the scarred and non-scarred skin. 

“When I was younger Sho, Natsuo, and Fuyumi would hide in my room when Mother and Father fought. I couldn't decide if I hated or loved it. I felt worth something when they did but it also felt a little suffocating. I like it now. I like them hiding here.” Touya whispered eyes closed. You realized a few months into your relationship, years back, that he communicated best in the dark with his eyes closed. He never had to face you but you were still right next to him. 

Touya leaned toward you, pressing his nose into your cheek. He tugged you closer, dragging your body through the sheets to press you into him. You relaxed against him, sighing into his warmth. 

Just as you were slipping into your slumber, your bedroom door squeaked open. You lifted your head, staring at the door. Shoto was standing in the doorway, the light from the lamp in the living room making him look like a shadow figure. He was cradling his pillow to his chest and standing like a toddler struggling to make the crib to big boy bed change. 

“Can I sleep in here with you two?” Shoto whispered, scared of letting his words be any louder. Touya lifted his head, looking back at Shoto. You didn't bother waiting for Touya's opinion, you already knew it. 

“Of course, you can stay in here.” You said, watching Shoto. He closed the door behind himself and walked to Touya's side of the bed. He threw his pillow onto the ground next to Touya's bedside table. Touya threw his hand away from you and gently grabbed onto Shoto's arm. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Touya asked, looking down at Shoto’s pillow. Shoto shrugged, looking over his shoulder at you to see if you would say something. 

“Getting ready to sleep,” Shoto said like it was as simple as that. Touya shook his head. He gripped onto your shoulder and leaned over the edge of the bed. He snatched up Shoto’s pillow and smacked it between yours and his. 

“I don't know who you think I am, but you are not sleeping on the floor,” Touya said, dropping his arms from you and scooting back towards the edge of the bed. You scooted back just enough to be more flush with the edge but not to fall off during the night. Shoto stood awkwardly by Touya, staring like he was in trouble or calculating. Touya looked over at him, gesturing for him to move. 

“Get in bed, damn. Can't even fuck my partner in peace.” Touya mumbled as Shoto finally decided to start moving. Shoto wiggled his way up in between you two, slipping under the blankets. You pushed the hair away from his forehead and hummed gently. 

“We weren't fucking, he's just talking. We would ‘partake in such activities’ while you're here.” you said repeating one of Shoto’s phrases. Shoto hummed and leaned into Touya. He pressed the top of his head to Touya's chest. Touya paused and glanced up at you for help. You gestured for him to hug Shoto. Touya gently rested his arm over Shoto’s pajama shirt, rubbing his shoulder with all the comforting abilities of a cardboard box. Shoto didn't seem to mind, humming and slowly drifting off towards sleep. You slipped your arm over Shoto's chest next to Touya's. Touya raised his eyes over to you and puckered his lips up. You leaned over Shoto, quickly pecking Touya’s lips. Touya hummed as you separated and laid back. You glanced down at Shoto to see his eyes plastered open. 

“Gross,” Shoto whispered. Touya scoffed and flicked Shoto’s nose. Shoto’s face scrunched up, his hand flying up to rub at his nose. Shoto sniffed as you pushed his hair from his forehead. He didn’t like it up, showcased too much of his scar. He was similar to Touya in that way. Touya kept long-sleeved shirts and hid most of his skin. The only time you ever saw his body without some covering was in bed for sleep or otherwise. You gently pressed your lips to Shoto’s scar, a soft kiss to push the nightmares away. 

“Goodnight Sho.” He hummed at you, snuggling closer to Touya. Touya groaned like he hated it but wrapped his arm around Shoto tighter. You rested your eyes, holding onto Shoto.

You thought of how you could make another person under your roof would work. The couch could only work for so long. Maybe you could find another apartment. Your brain was working a thousand miles per minute, so split your bedroom in half, though with a teen that wouldn’t work plus you enjoyed your privacy. Sure he stayed in the school dorms most of the time but he should feel comfortable when he comes home. It wouldn’t be fair to make him sleep on the couch on the weekends that’s just inconsiderate. You didn’t have an office which would’ve been beneficial. Maybe you could just get a pull-out couch like Touya mentioned before, it wouldn’t be perfect but it was better than sleeping in the same house as Enji.

You opened your eyes when a rather warm hand nudged your arm. Touya stared at you, a soft smile pulled at his lips. You hummed in question, trying to keep quiet so as to not wake up Shoto. Touya cupped your cheek, arm pulled over Shoto’s chest. He ran his thumb under your eye and knocked your cheek with his knuckle. Touya dropped his hand, intertwining it with yours over Shoto. You sighed and finally slipped into your dream with your mind at peace from Touya’s touch. 

[jasmines-library]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH OLDER BROTHER DAMIAN WAHNE?? LIKE 11 ISH YEAR OLD READER?? Reader is also an ex child weapon. Just a silent cutie pie. I just wanna see Damian spoiling them. Or something with like reader not following his orders and telling Damian to go away and does reckless stuff that Damian did when he was younger and his older siblings are just laughing at the irony

Brotherly Love

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: Sorry again for the wait! but two in one day woo.

Warnings: Just fluffy

Word Count: 800.

ALSO THIS IS MY 100TH FIC 🎉🎉

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“If you walk out that door I swear to God-” Damian curses as you slink out of the door of the batcave. He had explicitly told you that he didn’t want you going on this mission because he had deemed it ‘too dangerous’ as soon as Bruce gave the details. For a boy who claimed he ‘didn’t give a shit’ he was rather protective. Of course, being the highly trained, and rather confident 11 year old you are (which basically meant you were an adult) you had decided that you weren’t going to listen to him. With a sly smirk, you slipped out of the door. “God dammit!”

Damian kicks the wheely chair beside him. It slides across the room.  And then there’s laughter.

It was Jason, geared up in his suit, minus the signature hood. He was leaning against the wall, an amused smirk on his face. 

“Finally getting a taste of your own medicine, huh Demon Spawn?”

“What?” Damian half snapped, his temper wearing thin as he spun around to face his brother.

This made Jason’s grin widen. “Don’t act as if you weren’t exactly the same.”

Damian glowered. “That’s different.”

Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“....shut up. Where are you going anyway?” Damian nods towards Jason’s suit. 

“Someone has to go and get them. And it certainly won't be you.”

~

“Hi Dami.” You smiled as you sat yourself beside him on the couch. He was still in a grump, grumbling about your excursion. Jason had gone to find you, but instead of bringing you home, he let you finish the mission. This royally pissed Damian off, and he was almost 100% certain that Jason had done it just to spite him. But as much as he wanted to, Damian just couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially when you looked up at him with those bright and mischievous eyes. You very much reminded your other siblings of Damian when he was your age. Though of course, now he would claim he was all grown up and always has been. And, even though Damian wished he could keep holding his grudge against you, his face couldn't help but melt. 

“Hey, kiddo.” he greeted, looking down at you curiously.

“What are you doing?” You ask. You had always been fond of your older brothers, but you had an especially soft spot for Damian, as he did for you. 

Damian held up the book that he was half reading, but then gestured to the TV that he kept getting distracted by. “I don’t even know why I bothered trying to be honest.”

“Oh.” You acknowledged before reaching forwards to pick up the video game controllers. You raised an eyebrow and held one out for him to take. He snatched it up and turned it on. Damian was very clearly competitive, however he let you win the first few rounds before he decided he had had enough and wanted to take all of the glory for himself. 

At some point, the two of you deemed it time for a break. It didn’t last long, but it gave the two of you long enough to stretch your legs. When you returned, Damian was already back on the couch. On the coffee table he had placed two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows. He had also haphazardly placed a bunch of crisps in a bowl and had collected an extensive array of snacks that he had chucked onto the table too. 

You raised an eyebrow, looking curiously at him. 

“What?”

“You got snacks.”

“Yeah….well you looked hungry.”

Your face melted at Damian’s tenderness. Damian rolled his eyes as you took a sip of the hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on your face. He chuckled and gestured for you to wipe it away. You grinned up at him again.

“Thank you, Dami.” you beamed, nudging his side affectionately. 

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.” He grumbled, unable to hide the sliver of a smile creeping up onto his face. 

The two of you eventually fall asleep, still in front of the TV and half gripping the controllers as the game idles on without you. It’s Dick who pokes his head around the door to see what the noise is. He is surprised to see you with your head on Damian’s shoulder as the two of you snooze. With a soft smile, he turns off the TV and places a blanket over the two of you. But not before snapping a quick picture of the two of you which he would definitely use to wind up Damian some point in the not too distant future.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Tim had heard the phrase 'The wrong twin made it home' a number of times in his life, his parents were always very upfront about how the felt towards him. But... 'made it home' doesn't indicate death, does it? ...Tim ends up taking Danny's place by Sam's side in front of Congress to lobby the end of the Anti-Ecto Acts.

...

Tim has been up for hours passed when he told Alfred he would be resting and he's wrapped up his case files into neat little bows to deliver to Babs and the GCPD/Lawyers to do their jobs. Damian had made a comment earlier in their patrol that night about Tim being the wrong sibling to make it to his rescue and... and it got him thinking about that phrase. His parents were negligent with him, certainly, but they were always very clear about how he stood in their eyes. Praise and criticism were the two options, and very strictly limited passes of 'I love yous' that faded as he got older.

He's run his DNA before in the national databases- it was critical for maintaining his Alias' that multiple people didn't flag- but he's never searched in records before. About his twin. About the one who didn't make it home.

And its definitely the lack of sleep, and definitely the lack of brotherly affection he feels these days, but Tim just can't close the door until he's seen a death certificate. He's hacked Gotham General Hospital a million times for work, but doing it for his own gain feels wrong some how and he works with extreme caution. He finds his own birth certificate and... One Theodore Daniel Drake.

Tim snorts with a short ha, pretentious name alert and goes on to find not a single certificate of death or medical record of atypia. Oh no, what he finds is adoption paperwork meant to be closed to all wondering eyes and one Daniel James Fenton leaving the hospital instead. Tim blinks a few times, retraces his steps and then sure enough, learns for a second time that his TWIN was still alive.

Finding the Fentons was easy enough, their Lab address on all of their patents was seemingly also their home address. Danny had a much better hidden internet presence, it was good cybersecurity he'd have to praise him, but Tim had been trained better. Getting into his brother's files... Raised a number of new questions. Why was he compiling evidence against the government? What the fuck was he doing analyzing policy? Why did he have 'rogue' files???

Then Tim hacks into Danny's phone (he's learned at this point that Daniel was a no-go) and sees the conversations between his twin and his twin's best friends.

Sam Manson has an appointment with a Senator to Lobby for the end of the Anti-Ecto Acts. She wants Danny to join her, demonstrate something Tim can't determine, but he's refusing to leave and let his adoptive parents have even a moment to develop a new weapon without him there to destroy it. Someone called CW warned him about changes coming his way or something cryptic. Tim learns a lot from their back and forth, but stops reading once it gets to their personal squabbles.

Tim gets the meeting details and forwards it to Tam- If Danny can't make it... Tim will. And if Tim can't demonstrate whatever Danny was going to, it would at least help to throw around his name.

Tim writes an email to Danny- It's meant to go out after the lobbying appointment- and it explains that Tim found out about him and wants to connect if Danny does, and if Danny doesn't he at least wants to get him set up with his half of the Drake family inheritance. He includes a few personal facts, including that he too ended up adopted in life and had siblings, that he helped run a company and took on the world too soon. It takes a lot out of Tim to be so candid- but he doesn't want Danny to be too blindsided by the Waynes. He attaches a family photo with the label "you'll be able to tell which one is me'.

...

Sam is tapping her stupid, uncomfortable heels waiting for these dumbass, elderly politicians to get their shit together so she can speak. Sam was resourceful and surprisingly, the second she took on politics as a way to waste the family money, her mother Pamela was all for it. She's wanting Sam to run for president now... At least she doesn't complain when Sam organizes protests.

The door behind her opens, and while she knows its not going to be Danny behind her, a girl can feel a bit crushed. She really thought he would be behind her today, but Danny was being weird about this whole thing. Clockwork had him spooked about something changing today, and Danny wanted to be in Amity Park in case it was another Pariah situation or something. His parents had been on edge lately too...

"Sorry, I'm not late am I?" A voice asks and it's just so close but not- Sam turns her head to see Danny in a nice suit with long hair and eyebags way darker than she'd seen on him in a while. This... Wasn't Danny. She blinks, and then something in her anxiously decides that the universe is fucking with her and she will be fighting back.

"Everyone is late." She glares at him, appraising his every move. The woman behind him is typing dedicatedly on her tablet and the man himself looks like he might fall over while he shuffles his files in hand.

"Well, then I'm on time. My name is Tim Drake, I'm here to help your cause in getting the Anti-Ecto acts repealed and the parties responsible for it apprehended."

"Tim Drake? As in-"

"As in Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises. And I've done a lot of research, so I hope you'll let me play a supportive role while you speak."

"There's no way you've been able to research if you've been out of Amity, The whole city is under a media blackout." Sam's glare looks like it could cut him.

"Not to brag, but that sort of thing doesn't slow me down these days. I've made physical copies of the things they're most likely to delete and I've sent everything to the Justice League, who in turn are sending it to the Lantern Corps." He states matter-of-factly and Sam finally stops being angry at the world to just be... stumped. What the hell was going on?

"How did you... Why?"

"Tam, tell Ms. Manson how passionate I am about human rights?" The guy sounds anxious, the woman rolls her eyes and says "Very." without stopping her typing.

The doors open and Sam has only a moment to decide that Tim can join her... He proves himself to be an asset, and his name alone gets them further than she had anticipated getting today.

....

Danny is watching Sam walk into the space via C-span, gasping when his own likeness follows behind her. What the fuck???

He can barely drag his eyes away as the clone (?) introduces himself as Tim Drake and proceeds to rip them into shreds for delaying Sam Manson of all people. Danny is transfixed and Tucker is blowing up his phone.

"DUDE ARE YOU SEEING THIS?" Tucker's voice loudly calls out the second danny blindly answers.

"Dude, I just, I don't even know? He cant be a clone right? But he's gotta be?" Danny hypothesizes.

"Nah dude, there's like, a whole lifetime of media presence for Tim Drake since he was like, tiny. This is so weird he looks just like you..."

"This is so weird." Danny dumbly agrees because he can't think of anything else to say.

Sam finishes her points, Tim submits the evidence to the court and they leave. Danny's phone pings with an email notification.

"Danny my guy, you should check that, Sam isn't responding yet. Her phone is probably still off."

He follows Tucker's advise and opening his email... Is a new message from Tim Drake.

"...I don't know what the fuck is going on?" Danny continues to say, and Tucker asks him just to read it out loud, "It's just... Apparently I am both adopted and a twin?"

"...My guy." Tucker sounds just as much at a loss.

...

Sam calls them both after Tim Drake is rushed away by his PA Tam (who she found herself admiring more and more), and is relieved when they dont immediately answer by screaming.

"So Danny, Tucker, you guys are traveling with me next weekend." Sam deadpans.

"Apparently shit gets twilight-zone level weird anytime you leave Amity!" Tucker exclaims.

"...What's next weekend?" Danny asks, hesitation in his voice.

"Your twin invited us, well, mostly you, to a Wayne Family Brunch. We're going cause those assholes have money and political influence, you're going because we all probably need to know what the fuck is going on with that guy."

[sunshine-jesse]

Control: The Strange Dynamics of Andy and Leyley or

The Incest End Is Not The Fucking Bad End, Stop Coping

EDIT:

Hey guys! This post is blowing the fuck up, but this was my first essay on this game, and I think I've had many more insightful things to say since then. Here's a link to a masterpost with all of my essays, which I'd definitely suggest reading after this one:

Anyways, without further adieu...

I heard a lot about this game going in. I knew the general story beats and the funny haha incest memes. I knew it was about a toxic codependent relationship where Ashley, the sister, acted like your standard overly-controlling person who used various abuse techniques to keep someone in line. I expected Ashley to be a yandere-type character where she was borderline psychotic, irrational, and had a skewed perception of reality. I expected her to be a crazy bitch, and I love me some crazy bitches.

But then I actually played through the game. ...That is not what I got.

The game advertises Andrew as a doormat extraordinaire who is strung along by his Very Not Good sister and has no agency of his own' that he's just a henpecked abuse victim. But in practice, that doesn't seem to be the case. One of their first exchanges that in the story is when the occultist played his music and Ashley wanted them to check it out. He says 'no', sure, but then he smirks and says 'but I'll come along if you do.'

That is not the dialogue of someone who has no will of their own, that's the dialogue of someone who willingly gives up their own agency.

This is not, on its own, a sign of anything out of the ordinary. What caught my attention with it, though, is how it flew in the face of the common narrative surrounding their relationship dynamic. But that's not the first time I noticed it, it's just the first time, in retrospect, that their actual dynamic begins to show. The first time I personally noticed it is in the choking scene.

There are a lot of ways to view this situation. But my own reading? This was not a crime of passion. This was not him trying to break free. This is him doing something he's thought about for a while. This is premeditated. In this scene, Andrew is done playing along with Ashley's shit. In this scene, I firmly believe Ashley is the victim.

Ashley is the more openly abusive of the two who seeks to do whatever she can to trap Andrew so he'll never leave her. That much is clear. But Andrew-

-clearly has these same tendencies. He says this shortly after Ashley mentions putting her name up on a call girl's wall for money. There's protective brotherly instincts, and then there's this. This is not something you'd threaten a sister with, this is something that a man would threaten his wife with, which is directly brought attention to in the story.

(hey look he accepts the framing of it being WIFE beating at face value, and says Ashley is the only one who makes him like that! HMMMMMMMMMM WONDER WHAT THAT IMPLIES???)

It also implies that this is not the first time physical force has been threatened! I mean, that much is obvious, because of the choking scene that happened before, but I more mean that this implies that Andrew either threatening or utilizing physical force is an established pattern of behavior. However, the Decay route implies that she never thought Andy would kill her (but Andrew would) which can either be for or against depending on one's perspective, so I don't hold to the idea that it's an established pattern too strongly.

Okay, so. Andrew has some controlling and possessive tendencies too. So what? Their relationship is codependent. It's advertised as such. What of it?

Well first of all, it pretty much blows the lid off of the idea that Ashley is the sole perpetrator of abuse in their relationship. I've seen a lot of people view Andrew's behavior as justified retaliation against abuse, but frankly, I don't believe that him threatening to strangle Ashley for violating boundaries by trying to hold him accountable for his actions (given the strangulation part happens after she brought up Nina's death and how Andrew was ultimately responsible) is justified. And I ESPECIALLY don't believe that him threatening to backhand Ashley for her transactional attitude towards sex is justified in ANY circumstance.

EDIT: This part was edited in from the original post for the sake of readability so they don't have to see the reblogs to see the updated version! This post gained more traction than I was expecting!

…But perhaps even more telling is what she DOESN'T do.

Pushing someone's boundaries until they lash out is a pretty common tactic in abusive relationships. It's easy to see why, too: It justifies prior behavior and paints them in a negative light to others. This can be an important aspect of using DARVO (deny, attack, and reverse victim and offender) against someone, although the two ideas aren't necessarily linked.

It's pretty easy to argue that this is what Ashley does, but if you look at the one time her boundary pushing DID go too far, when Andrew lashes out with physical violence… she doesn't do that. She doesn't blame him. She doesn't paint herself as the victim. She doesn't even try to give a reason as to why she shouldn't be killed outside of the comfort she gives him. Why is this notable?

Because the mom does, in fact, engage in what could be considered DARVO against Ashley:

(i will elaborate more on this screenshot in particular below)

Ashley is directly compared to Mrs. Graves by Andrew, and yet she crucially displays none of the habits that Mrs. Graves does. Mrs. Graves lays the blame on Ashley, but Ashley doesn't lay the blame on Andrew. Mrs. Graves tends to paint herself as the victim of Ashley, but Ashley does no such thing to Andrew. The mom denies her culpability at every turn; Ashley doesn't. Ashley tries to hold Andrew accountable for his role in Nina's death, which could be considered a kind of DARVO. But she never denies that she had a role to play in it. She just mentions that he was the one who pulled the trigger. And he was.

(and the point was more that she DIDN'T engage in it when threatened with physical violence; the perfect chance to)

In Mrs. Graves' mind, she is the victim of either Ashley, or society as a whole. In Ashley's mind, she knows what she is, what she does, and what she's about. The only thing she's oblivious to- or doesn't acknowledge, at least- is the threat Andrew poses to her. In her mind, she's the bad guy. In Andrew's mind, Ashley is the bad guy. In official art, she is the bad guy:

And yet, in the game itself, Andrew is the one holding the cleaver. Not her. Hm.

Ashley is the world's most convenient scapegoat. She allows people to mask their own worst habits and pretend they're better people than they are. She accepts this role. She embraces it. She doesn't try to deny it. But when that mask slips, people lash out at her. Both Mrs. Graves and Andy (NOT Andrew, crucially) predicate much of their self-perception on being what she's not.

But they're the ones who enabled her to become like this, every step of the way.

And that's what blew my fucking mind, and made me question just who the victim really is. She was never given a chance to be normal, because other people relied on her NOT being normal.

By the end of my second playthrough, I felt worse for Ashley than I did for Andrew, and I still do.

So. What am I getting at? What does this show me about the relationship between Ashley and Andrew?

(I also wanted to point out that Andrew does engage in DARVO too but I didn't want to distract from the behavior of the mother. Unlike what Andrew does, it doesn't require someone to reassess the narrative they have towards the game in order to realize the implications of it, whereas it's pretty easy to justify Andrew's words as not qualifying as DARVO if you buy into the narrative that he's the sole victim and/or that Ashley is the main perpetrator of abuse. A friend of mine pointed out that it's a pretty key part of the push/pull dynamic they have, and I completely agree.

However, the direct comparisons to the behavior of the mother can't be ignored no matter your narrative, so I felt as if I needed to highlight that more.)

EDIT OVER

It shows me that their relationship is all about control.

Specifically, the push and pull of who controls who in any given situation.

Andrew weaponizes his incompetence. He always looks to lay the blame on Ashley. This is drawn attention to several times, and said explicitly in the Decay route.

He is always surrendering control to her, and yet he never HAS to. He could always just say no. He could always refuse. What are the consequences? Her being upset? Well, unfortunately, it's not that easy. That's not how abuse dynamics work. He probably feels like he has to, or rather, feels like there's no other option. That he's in too deep, and stuck with her no matter what. But personally, I think it's pretty clear from his willingness to surrender control to Ashley that he still feels like he has it at points, because the moment he feels like he's about to lose it, he either considers violence, even as a child-

(the actual scene of slicing her finger is pretty sus too with this reading in mind)

-or resorts to it, outright, in both the choking scene and the vision in the Decay ending... when Ashley doesn't have enough bullets to defend herself (this will be important later!).

SO WHAT POINT AM I TRYING TO MAKE??? AM I JUST MAKING ABUSE APOLOGIA (the answer may surprise you)?

No. I don't think so.

Ashley is obviously very bad. She's controlling and uses pretty textbook abuse and entrapment tactics on Andrew whereas everything he does to her is inference, with Ashley too daft to realize just how much danger she's in until the vision in the Decay ending spells it out for her- and I don't know if a true abuse dynamic allows for one to be completely unaware of the consequences of breaking free. She could just let go of her desire for control and Andrew would be a much happier person.

And that's the point, because so would she.

I bring up control because that push and pull- that desire for control over each other- is exactly what's tearing their relationship apart, and this effect most obviously manifests in the two endings of episode 2. In the Decay ending, Ashley either tries to exert control over Andrew due to a lack of trust, or Andrew allows his feelings of entrapment to truly take root in his mind and guide his actions. In the Decay ending, Andrew becomes a true doormat with no will of his own, allowing his feelings of bitterness and resentment to fester and grow, eventually resulting in their deaths.

In the Burial ending, Andrew does the exact opposite. He takes control of the situation and does exactly what Ashley would do without much of a fuss. This eventually culminates in THAT scene (assuming you take the Questionable route), where his facial expression alone speaks volumes:

Look at how fucking confident this man is. This is not the face of someone who's unsure of himself; this is the face of someone who knows exactly what he wants and takes it. He is absolutely in control of this situation, and everyone is happier for it.

And what does Ashley have to do to get this ending?

Let's go back to Decay for a moment. If Ashley has bullets in her gun, she has control over the situation. She, at any point, could put an end to Andrew and survive. And yet, at the very end of it all, she could choose not to. She could choose to surrender control to Andrew, allowing herself to die. And that ending, I believe so much of his life and willpower will have decayed that there's nothing left for him to take control of, leaving him no choice- or rather, no use for the control he now has- but to die with her.

And in the Burial ending, she has to let him out of his cage before it's too late. She has to surrender control to him, and when she does-

-He will become everything she ever needed him to be.

It's all about her surrendering control, and it's all about him taking control. Because, no matter what, as long as that happens... the two of them will be together forever.

In life...

...or in death.

How romantic.

So no, the incest end is not the fucking bad end. They're going to be together forever in the end either way, so they might as well live through it.