#needed to age them up for the wedding but also the family tree

[thepettymachine]

All of Ashley's siblings aged up

Chanel || Leslie

Grayson || Sterling

[saintsenara]

In Marauder era (or 1st Wizarding World era) fics, all the characters that we know from the actual books/movies (i.e., The Marauders + Lily, the Malfoys, Bellatrix, etc.), or just characters that are more known, are all put in Hogwarts together at the same time, and it confuses me.

They couldn’t have all been at school together, could they? And even if they were, most of them would have to be years ahead, no? It especially confuses me when Bellatrix is the one in school with them, but her and Narcissa are the only ones that are ever mentioned. Andromeda is literally not that much younger than Bella and older than Narcissa, so you would think that she would appear, yet she doesn’t. Why exactly are they always all bunched together? And what are their actual ages?

this is a bit of worldbuilding which i'm not fond of either, anon.

i get why it happens - hogwarts is a school and, therefore, requires a large cast of characters as fellow students, and since marauders-era writers don't have the advantage that lightning gen writers do of being able to lift these characters directly from the text, the few names we do know from canon of people who lived and died during the first war get used to fill in the gaps.

there are also - obviously - some inconsistencies in the text itself caused by jkr's functional innumeracy. if we take the date of birth given for bellatrix on the black family tree she drew in 2006 - 1951 - then she would graduate hogwarts in either 1969 or 1970, depending on when in the year her birthday is. but sirius says in goblet of fire that she was friends with snape at school.

i ignore sirius and go with the given date of birth because it works better for my worldbuilding - and i have andromeda born in 1953 [leaving hogwarts in 1971 or 1972] and narcissa born in 1955, as per the family tree, but in the autumn [therefore leaving hogwarts in 1974 - and married in 1975, allowing narcissa's wedding to be the last time sirius sees bellatrix, since, as he tells us in order of the phoenix, this took place when he was fifteen] - but i think authors can shift the sisters' birthdays later if they do want to have them overlap more with the marauders generation without it being too much of a problem.

lucius malfoy's date of birth can be worked out fairly easily from canon. in the autumn of 1995, he's forty-one - as we're told in order of the phoenix - which means he was born in 1954 [or - if he has a winter birthday - late 1953] and was at hogwarts between either 1965-1972 or 1966-1973 depending on when in the year his exact birthday is - if it's october 1953-august 1954, he's in the former cohort; if it's september 1954 [which is when the article in which his age is mentioned is published] then he's in the latter. we know he overlaps with the marauders cohort very briefly - since he's shown meeting snape in the prince's tale - but, since he's either a sixth- or seventh-year at the time, i find it unlikely that he paid james and sirius much attention, or that they paid him much attention in turn.

[lucius must - let's be real - go rather under the radar, since he's clearly able to recruit death eaters while at school - and immediately after leaving it - without being noticed.]

what i'm much less inclined to be flexible on is the fanon which has characters like dorcas meadowes, marlene mckinnon, emmeline vance, and so on all be at hogwarts with the marauders - which doesn't work for me for the very basic reason that the order of the phoenix is not an army of child soldiers.

the implication of canon is definitely that the four marauders and lily are an exception to the make-up of the rest of the order - likely for the sensible tactical reason that dumbledore had all the ministry infiltrators he needed, but didn't have people who would be able to provide information about voldemort's recruitment of younger death eaters, which the marauders were clearly able to do by virtue of having been at school with them all [and - in sirius' case - being related to two of them].

it's also clear in the text that dorcas meadowes [who is the only person in the first war other than james and lily we know was killed by voldemort himself] must have been an important political figure - otherwise the dark lord would have left her for one of his minions - and that james and lily don't know marlene mckinnon well enough for her to have been a school friend.

[if she was - as is the common fanon - sirius' teenage girlfriend, i would like to hope that lily's letter to him mentioning her death would devote a little more space to the event than it canonically does...]

what i love to see is the rest of the order - hardened aurors and civil servants who've been locked into the war with voldemort since the marauders started school - being a combination of faintly amused and supremely irritated by the group of cocky young bastards who've just turned up at their meetings, and who seem to think the whole "being a paramilitary" thing is a big laugh.

[especially because it's then so much easier to explain why everyone involved could believe that sirius was guilty...]

[agent-cupcake]

cry foul

I said I needed a new mouse and @dogveins came through, thank you! They had a very fun prompt and it got away from me a bit.

Pairing: Sylvain Jose Gautier x f!Reader

Synopsis: Your mother recently married Margrave Gautier, dragging you to Gautier territory to live with your new family. Sylvain is much happier about the arrangement than you.

Warnings: explicit smut, noncon, scumbag Sylvain, mind games, nonconsensual sibling pseudo incest

Tags: shy/inexperienced reader, teasing, first time

Word Count: 20.9k

Notes: I would like to credit a local genius who fed me the line, "The way I see it, our parents had a marriage of convenience, so our being siblings is also a matter of convenience." Although I couldn't find a way to use it, it still should be known.

i.

there’s a bad moon rising

Lurking deep within your brain, there existed a memory-mangled quote—something about how bust measurements and makeup did not a woman make, it was the acceptance of harsh realities and knowledge of the rules that governed the adult world which aged a girl out of her childish naivety. The words, found in some etiquette guidebook you read years ago, resurfaced from the depths after your mother sat you down to tell you of her plans.

Harsh reality, put into purely practical, factual terms, was that your mother’s second wedding amounted to little more than a legal document. Its lack of sentimentality and pomp was due in no small part to the lingering scandal that enshrouded the whole ordeal, but also because the widows had no need for any flashy celebration of their loveless union. It was, as your mother explained with cutting efficiency in the same practical, factual terms, a business deal. Her inheritance and trade connections for the safety and prestige of a noble title. Money for power. So, on the seventeenth day of Great Tree Moon, Margrave Matthias Raoul Gautier—twice widowed—married your mother under the watchful eye of the goddess and the binding shackles of law. You wore periwinkle and held very tightly to your bouquet of white lilies, watching a man you had met only a single time before the ceremony become your stepfather. 

Margrave Gautier’s son—the second, the heir, the one who hadn’t been disinherited and cast away as a blight on the family’s name—made no such effort. He didn’t even show up. Nobody mentioned his absence. That was one of the rules that governed the adult world, one of the confusingly paradoxical games of pretend they all participated in. Do not point out unsavory truths, ignore harsh realities and then ignore ignorance itself. 

Before the ink of their signatures could have a chance to dry, preparations were completed to make the trip north. Quickly, as the relatively mild weather could turn at any moment. With all due haste, an antique set of cloth wrapped silver candlesticks, two artisan-carved mahogany side tables, no less than three trunks of fine linens, a collection of leatherbound original books penned by a famed philosopher and scholar you couldn’t name, an ivory keyed piano, and one bleary eyed daughter were all packed up to be transported to Castle Gautier where they would be kept for the foreseeable future. 

“We’ll come back to visit, right?” you asked your mother as the carriage trundled past the border of Rowe territory, having grown bored drawing shapes on the breath-fogged glass window over the wooded scenery. 

“It’s a long journey to make just for a visit,” she said, looking up from the document she was studying intently. 

“But maybe for special occasions?” you asked. “The Goddess’ Ball is coming up.” You didn’t mention that you had promised your friends in advance that you would attend with them, going as a group rather than endure the embarrassment of searching for a gentleman suitor. That was before harsh reality reared its head. 

“I am not entirely sure Count Rowe will host us,” your mother told you bluntly. “He and Matthias aren’t on the best of terms.” 

You slumped down in your seat, sighing. Politics, then. Before the past month, you hadn’t been very aware of Faerghus’s political situation, let alone how fractured it was. The conflict between various lords had something to do with what happened after the Tragedy of Duscur that took the life of King Lambert, although you knew very little beyond that. While your mother’s passion lay firmly in the world of political intrigue, you had very little interest in something so dismal and divisive. 

“You will make new friends,” she told you, a gentle note in her voice. “There will be balls and feasts in the north as well. And you’ll have your stepbrother Sylvain. He’s only a year your senior and Matthias tells me he greatly enjoys art and music. I’m sure you’ll find much to talk about.” 

The mention of your absentee stepbrother who you knew, so far, only through reputation didn’t do much to ease your concerns. There were hundreds of rumors about Sylvain and the way he behaved around women, although you knew better than to bring up unsubstantiated hearsay with your matter-of-fact mother. And maybe it really was just lies, you were well aware that people weren’t above lying. Dishonesty was as much a rule of polite society as proper footwear.

“It will be difficult to adjust, I know,” she said when you didn’t respond, caught up in your own distracted thoughts. “We will be judged harshly, and there will be many people who will reject us for nothing more than from where we came. All we can do is show them that the grace and steadfast dignity of a lady is not a product of lineage. Do you understand?” 

“I do,” you said with another heavy sigh, that half-remembered quote spinning mercilessly in your head. Harsh realities, and the rules of adults. Same games, new rules. 

With the matter settled, your mother returned to her reading and you returned to the window, trying not to think about the new anxieties she had introduced but unable to think of anything else. 

ii.

through thick and thin

Traveling to Gautier territory with a decently sized caravan took nearly an entire fortnight, slowed by a patch of particularly bad roads across the Itha Plains. You got a breath of fear when one of the hulking monsters that prowled the area was spotted, and then a jump of panic when a rippling murmur about bandit activity spread throughout the camp. But nothing came of either, and your journey continued. 

Spring’s slow going snowmelt was nearly as bad as the wintry storms themselves. Ground that had spent the long season frozen began to thaw out into a nasty brownish slush, softening enough for wheels to form dangerous ruts along the road and splattering mud onto your boots. As the new year continued, the days had gotten longer, but with the sun hiding behind the omnipresent angry smear of gray blanketing the skies, it was impossible to enjoy them. People claimed that it was better near the Sreng border because the climate was drier. You doubted it could be too much worse.

Arrival didn’t help, as evidence that you now lived in a fortress surrounded you, completely unlike the city you called home for most of your life. Fortifications surrounded all sides, and military guards were ready for any movement from Sreng forces. Even if it weren’t so cold, the place had a frigid, unapproachable air. The intimidating stonework was very clear in its messaging. You did not belong here.  

From the minute you first arrived in Gautier territory, cold became a permanent fact of life. 

iii.

baa, baa, black sheep

Sleeping here was difficult, howling wind rattled windows and sang frightening songs in the night. Morose, chilled, and tired, you stared with glazed eyes at the unappetizing porridge meant to be your breakfast as it got even colder. The only reason you had yet to get up was a lack of motivation. What else would you be doing? You had asked your mother if she would spend the day with you, but she was busy. Unlike you, she thrived in this environment. While she had always had the inherent power of money and strong mercantile contracts, she had never had the intrinsic political power of a lord. The graceful response would be to feel content to see her taking to the new situation, glad that it gave her a platform to get along with her new husband in an otherwise loveless marriage. 

Mostly you just felt the tragic pulse of self pity. And cold.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or has the goddess finally answered my prayers?” someone asked, surprising you. Looking up, you locked eyes with a man you didn’t recognize. He stood in the doorway with an attractive smile, his red hair a mess and cheeks and nose blushed pink from being outside in the cold, slightly clouded with the steam rising from the bowl he held. “If I had known I had an angel here to greet me, I wouldn’t have kept you waiting so long.”   

The line, cheesy as it was, brought an immediate flush to your face, your brain scrambling as it tried to make sense of what was happening. You looked around the empty dining room, sure that you would see the other girl he was talking to. But there was none. 

“I’m not…” you stammered out, lost as to how to respond. It was flirtatious, wasn’t it? You couldn’t think of how else you would interpret what he said, although the idea of being flirted with was equally as incomprehensible. Worse, the red hair was a dead giveaway for the fact that you were finally face to face with the missing Gautier heir, Sylvain. Your stepbrother. “I think you’re, um, mis-mistaking me for someone else.”

“That’s impossible,” he said, undeterred by your awkward response. “You’re unmistakably beautiful… and unmistakably divine.” He stepped out of the doorway to get closer, allowing you to see him more clearly. If it really was Sylvain, he looked nothing like his father other than the red hair and brown eyes. He was too, for want of a better word, pretty. “What do you think, can you spare some time for a sinner like me?” he asked, taking the seat beside you. “We can talk about love—the goddess’ and otherwise.” 

“I, um, don’t know much about that,” you muttered, buying time by eating a spoonful of the porridge. If it tasted bad while it was hot, it was worse while cold, but it was better than addressing the man sitting next to you.  

“There’s no need to be so shy. I don’t bite,” he said warmly. “Well, unless you want me to. Some girls really like that sort of thing.” That made you choke, glad you had already swallowed the mouthful of gooey sludge pretending to be food as your cheeks blazed and you stared hard at the neatly smoothed tablecloth. He laughed. “Well, well, maybe you’re not as angelic as you look.”

“N-no, that’s not…” You shook your head, desperate to shut down this line of conversation. 

“Hey, no judgment here,” he told you, raising his hands placatingly. 

“You’re Sylvain, aren’t you?” you asked abruptly, unable to look at him as hot embarrassment raged within you. In your periphery, you could see his sparkling smile. 

“Yep. And you’re the daughter of my father’s new wife,” Sylvain said, no question in his voice. “Which makes you my new little sister.” 

You peeked up at him, shocked and unsettled by the happiness in his voice when he said that. “You-you knew?” 

He shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly difficult to deduce. You’re a lot prettier than I thought you’d be though,” Sylvain said. He gave you another once over, some of that smug amusement returning to dance in his eyes. “I was kind of nervous, to be honest. Miklan and I never got along very well, I wasn’t looking forward to this. But I can tell just by looking at you that you’ve got a sensitive, kind heart. I’m the same way, really. I think we might just be kindred spirits.”  

“I. um, don’t really…”

Undeterred by your awkward bumbling, Sylvain picked up from where your sentence dropped. “You’re new to this area, right? I can’t imagine how tough that must be for you. I’d be more than happy to show you around. Maybe we could go for a horseback ride when the weather clears up. I know a few private spots around here where we could really get to know each other better.”

“You don’t have to,” you said awkwardly. 

“No, I want to. Besides, your mother did ask me to keep a close eye on you, make sure you settle in well. I guess that’s kinda a part of the big brother gig.” He grinned. “I think I could get used to that. It’s an honor to have such a cute little sister.” 

A sick lump formed in your throat at the way he twisted your supposed familial ties with that overly friendly tone of voice. You couldn’t tell if he meant anything by it, you didn’t want to believe that he did, but the entire interaction had been so horrifically uncomfortable you didn’t know. 

“I’m not…” Goddess, you couldn’t even say it, choking on your embarrassment. “It’s not like you-you’re actually my… my brother.” 

“Yeah, just legally and technically,” he said dryly.

“Yea—yeah,” you agreed. Just legally and technically. 

Sylvain laughed. Oh. He had been making fun of you. 

Picking up your half empty bowl, you stood up. The chair’s legs complained noisily. “I’m, um, I’m done,” you announced. “So, I’m… going.” 

“But I just got here,” Sylvain said, frowning. “Won’t you stay a little longer? The joy of your company is the only thing that’ll make this edible. Besides, I’d love to get to know my baby sister.”

The term of endearment nearly caused you to drop the bowl, your cheeks hot enough to sizzle. “I-I don’t…” 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed how lonely things get around here, it’s downright depressing sometimes,” Sylvain pushed. “And we’re going to be living together from now on, don’t you want to know a little more about me? Think of it as sibling bonding.” 

Your shoulders wilted. An urgent voice in your head demanded you leave, but you also felt guilty. Maybe you were being too squirrely, especially when he hadn’t actually done anything. Besides, he was the only person in the past week who seemed actually interested in spending time with you, and you couldn’t deny that it was at least a little flattering. 

“Alright,” you mumbled, sitting down. “Just for a bit.” 

Sylvain smiled, and it was sharp. Like he’d won a game you had no idea you were playing. 

iv.

curiosity killed the cat

Traveling to the nearest town took, in fair weather, a half hour on horseback. Longer if you took a coach, and even longer in poor weather. Despite the time it took to get there, you very quickly determined that you liked the town near Castle Gautier. The weather becoming less severe meant that merchants were finally able to make the journey north, so the market was lively enough. It was not nearly as festival-like as the markets you had frequented in the past, but you took what you could get. 

Almost immediately, Sylvain left with a comment about having an important matter to tend to, promising to come find you when he was done and that you should stay in the market area. He’d been told to stay close to you, but considering how awkward you felt around him still, you were more than happy to allow him to do whatever he wanted. 

Feeling a measure of excitement, you fluttered around different shops, searching out clothes that could better withstand the abrasive northern air. It came as a shock to realize that you already had a reputation. Throughout your life, you had been treated well because you had money, but now you had status, and that made your custom infinitely more valuable. Given your mother’s trade, you could hold your own while haggling prices, but the shop owners barely tried to overcharge. You came away with a handsome new green cloak made of thick wool with fur trim, new lace up boots big enough to fit extra insulation, and several thick woolen socks. A good haul, all things considered. 

But then you were left with a problem. With your business done and all the shops in the main market explored, you had nothing to do other than wait for Sylvain to return. Since the sky was the same murky steely color it had been since the sun rose, you couldn’t tell exactly, but you were sure it was getting into the late afternoon. Your toes were ice, and you wanted to be home in time to dine with your mother. 

And still, no Sylvain. 

With no small amount of clear distaste, one of the shopkeepers gave you a tip as to his usual haunts. A bar, restaurant, a gated area that was prepared for planting at the first sign of true spring weather. At first, it was fun to explore the new sights, but the longer you wandered, the harder it became not to notice the rampant poverty. Impoverishment looked different in the north than it did in Rowe territory. Cold, hungry. Most of northern Faerghus’ money followed the trades of military and mining, harsh professions in harsh conditions that created harsh people, readily leaving behind those with dust blackened lungs or crippled limbs. More so than any of your mother’s explanations, it made you understand why Margrave Gautier would opt for a wealthy wife over one with pedigree.  

With no luck at the first few places you looked for him, you were directed to an establishment which had no name, just a depiction of a four leaf clover for a sign. It was a bit unfriendly looking, if you were honest, but you were shivering from the cold and more than a little anxious to find Sylvain. 

Inside proved to be no more welcoming than out, the only difference was that it didn’t reek as aggressively of urine. Nobody greeted you when you entered. In fact, you drew more than a few stares. You had the distinct and sinking feeling that you did not belong. Keeping your head high, you hurried to who you assumed was the proprietor and asked if he’d seen Sylvain. He said nothing until you produced a few coins, and then he nodded to the back. The boards creaked beneath your boots. Everything smelled musty and even with a fire burning, you could practically taste the cold in the air. The back had a short hall with doors, maybe to rent out rooms? Although that was unimportant in comparison to the sight of two people at the very end of it. 

As soon as you realized that it was Sylvain and that he wasn’t alone, you ducked away, heart racing. All of your panic seemed to be for nothing though, they were too busy to notice you. It was any wonder you hadn’t noticed the loud, messy sound of kissing before you rounded the corner. Although, if you hadn’t seen a quick flash of them in the act, you might have been confused as to what was causing all of the breathing and moaning and sucking noises. Certainly no kissing you’d ever observed sounded like that. Understanding what, exactly, you had stumbled upon made you cringe and flush hotly, the notion that you should give them privacy conflicting with your desire to go home.

Suddenly, Sylvain groaned, a low noise that you felt as much as you heard. It made your breath catch, the muscles of your thighs clenching unintentionally. 

“Not here,” he admonished breathlessly. 

“We can get a room,” you heard the woman say, her voice husky.

“I’d love to, gorgeous,” he said. “But I’ve gotta take my sister home before it gets too late.” That startled you, feeling a flash of worry that he’d seen you. But if had, there was no way he’d keep going with this.

“Aren’t I more important? Fuck your sister,” the woman responded. 

Sylvain laughed. 

“What?” she demanded. That clearly wasn’t the response she wanted.  

“No, nothing,” Sylvain said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I really do have to go. Next time though, I promise.” 

“You always say next time,” the woman told him, pouty.  

“I mean it,” Sylvain said, his voice lowered to convey its sincerity. “Do you really think I’d lie to you, baby? You know you’re the only girl for me.” 

At first you thought they might be done, but then you heard her muffled moan and realized they were kissing again. Fabric shuffled. Something thunked dully against the wall. You knew you shouldn’t have been listening like this, that it was wrong and disgusting and disturbing and terrible, but you couldn’t move. A darkly curious part of you wanted to know what they were doing that would make sounds like that, although the thought of knowing profoundly disgusted you. 

When they finally stopped, muttering something you couldn’t make out, you only had a few moments to think of what to do before you heard footsteps. And, really, in all of your flustered embarrassment, you had even less time. 

The woman emerged first, smoothing her blond hair with a passive expression that didn’t give any hint to what you just heard. She didn’t see you, sauntering out the door with a farewell to the proprietor you had given money to. While you didn’t get a good look at her face, you got more than enough time to see her curvaceous figure. 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to spy on people?” Sylvain asked, surprising you into jumping, letting out a little squeak. And then you looked at him, and the embarrassment returned in full force. He ran a hand through his messy hair, doing nothing to tame it, and licked his red, slightly swollen lips. You very pointedly did not watch either movement, your breathing too fast as you tried to come up with a valid excuse.  

“I was… I didn’t mean… I came to find you, ah-and…” 

“Just out of curiosity, how much did you hear?” he asked.

“Nothing!”  you said quickly, eyebrows shooting up. 

“Right, I bet you’re going to tell me you only just got here,” he said, obviously toying with you. He knew you were lying, but if you admitted it now, that’d only make it worse.

“I did,” you agreed, choosing what you hoped was the lesser of two evils.  “I, um, I’m done shopping so I wanted to let you know I’m ready to leave.” 

“I’m pretty sure I told you to stay there and wait for me to come back,” Sylvain said. He looked around the bar, surveying the unfriendly faces that were pointedly not staring at you. “This side of town isn’t exactly welcoming.” 

Had he told you that? You couldn’t remember. “I’m… sorry.”

“If something happened to you, it’d be my fault, you know,” Sylvain said, looking down at you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne as well as the woman’s perfume. An overwhelming scent.  “I’m sure you’re used to just doing whatever you want, right? But now that it’s my responsibility to look out for you, I expect you to listen to me.”     

He spoke down to you like an adult to a child which, although irritating in its own way, only worsened the embarrassment of being chastised. “I’m sorry,” you said again, staring hard at his chest to avoid his gaze. “But you don’t, um… I can look out for myself. We’re basically the same age.”  

“Doesn’t matter,” Sylvain said. “I’m your big brother, so it’s up to me to keep you safe.” 

None of this would have been an issue if he hadn’t left to spend time with his girlfriend, but you didn’t want to point that out and risk dragging out this uncomfortable conversation. “Okay,” you agreed, hoping that’d be the end of it. 

You flinched when Sylvain tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Promise that you’ll listen to me from now on,” he said. 

You breathed out shakily, too overwhelmed to do anything other than obediently agree. “I pr-promise.” 

“If you don’t,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking upward slightly, “I’ll definitely be forced to punish you.” 

Your mouth opened, but you didn’t say anything. How were you supposed to respond when you couldn't even figure out what he meant by that? Your insides twisted into a riotous state, but your head was pretty solidly empty of any coherent thought. 

Suddenly, just as quickly as it came, Sylvain’s darker mood disappeared into a big grin and let your chin drop. “Hah, you totally fell for that! I got worried it was too corny, but I guess not,” he said with a laugh, ruffling your hair affectionately. “That face was priceless. You’re way too gullible.” 

“What?” you asked, beyond being confused and still trying to piece together a rational thought.

“I was just messing with you,” Sylvain said. “I mean, who would actually say something like that?” 

“Oh… yeah,” you said, trying desperately to laugh with him. 

“Come on,” Sylvain said, fixing his clothes as he turned towards the door, “let’s go home.” 

You followed his lead out into the cold towards the coach, chewing on your lip in a state between embarrassment and a sickened sense of conflict. With each crunching step, the silence grew ever more daunting. He said it was a joke, so you shouldn’t have cared. You didn’t care. You weren’t even sure why you reacted the way you did, your stomach dropping out helplessly. Sylvain helped you into the carriage in the most gentlemanly fashion, following behind and shutting the door. It was entirely quiet in the cab save for muffled noises from outside. You had no idea what to say, and you couldn’t figure out what Sylvain was thinking.  

All you could think about was the word punish and the sound of him groaning that first time. Such an honest, guttural response to pleasure. In some ways, it would have been less intimate to catch him in a state of undress. Of course, that only invited the idea of shirtless Sylvain into your head and you knew your cheeks were burning but you couldn’t think of anything else to distract yourself. He was your stepbrother. It didn’t matter that you weren’t related and that he was a man and around your age and attractive, to even slightly entertain these thoughts was condemnable. 

“Your girlfriend is very beautiful,” you told him, latching onto the first safe thought you could  manage.

“My… what?” Sylvain asked. 

“The—that girl,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing with nervous confusion. 

“Oh! Yeah, right,” he said, nodding in comprehension. “I wouldn’t say she’s my girlfriend or anything. We’ve been out a few times. You know how it is. I just wanted a good time, but she wants more.” 

If that was the case, he had done a very poor job of expressing that to her. But saying so would only reveal that you had been listening, so you just nodded like you understood. “Yeah. That’s, um, frustrating.” 

“Speaking of which, is there a mark on my neck?” Sylvain asked, pulling down his collar enough to reveal the ivory pale column of skin marked halfway down with an angry red splotch. 

“There’s a red spot,” you said, frowning. “Does it hurt?”  

“What? No. I asked her not to leave a mark, but some girls get possessive like that.” He sighed, clearly disgusted with the idea, rubbing his neck. 

You didn’t know what he meant, but you figured it was probably better not to ask if it had to do with the girl who was not his girlfriend that you were still pretending you hadn’t heard him kissing. You didn’t want to know. 

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you,” Sylvain said knowingly, smiling again. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unable to look at him. 

“No, I-I do,” you lied.

“Uh-huh,” he agreed doubtfully. “And a sweet girl like you would never lie to her big brother, would she?” 

You exhaled harshly, bowing your head even more in the hopes he couldn’t see your expression as shame and guilt and disgust swirled through you in quick succession. Knowing filthy things wasn’t becoming of a lady, let alone one who had spent so little time around men. It was far outside the scope of what was appropriate, or even what you wanted to know. But it didn’t help the terrible feeling that you were less than compared to him, childishly ignorant. At least he didn’t push it. 

“By the by, that cloak looks lovely on you,” Sylvain said after a moment.

“Thank you,” you said on a reactive impulse, caught off guard by the sudden praise but happy to change subjects. And it was very pretty, even if more muted in comparison to what you usually wore.

“I bet you were really popular with all the guys before you came here. I wonder how many hearts you broke when you left.” He paused, grinning. “Then again, their loss is my gain, right?” 

And just like that, things were awkward again. “I didn’t… I-I wasn’t… Like that.” 

“What?” Sylvain asked, his eyes wide with shock. “There’s no way a pretty girl like you didn’t have men throwing themselves at your feet.”

The idea was laughable, but you had no idea how to tell him that you were too awkward, too easily flustered, to really attract or even want that sort of attention. As your interactions with Sylvain had proven, it was too embarrassing to be worthwhile. “I’ve never… never thought too much about that sort of thing.” 

Sylvain stared you down for a second as if trying to see if you’d crack, but you were telling the truth this time. “Hah. You’re pretty lucky, you know that?” he asked. “Being able to live without that sort of attention and pressure, I guess money doesn’t draw people in the same way as a title or Crest. Or maybe your mother just spoiled you too much.” 

“I don’t know,” you responded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this. Once again, it seemed like Sylvain’s ever-shifting mood had taken a darker turn. Or maybe it was another joke?

“I get it, though,” he said, leaning back. “As your doting big brother, I’d like to spoil you too, you know?” 

No, you didn’t. And you were fairly confident that it was another one of the things you didn’t want to know. But you had already done enough to embarrass yourself, so you ducked your head in an attempt to hide your face and became very interested in the bleak landscape passing outside the window.

v.

rounding the bend

“May I talk to you?” you asked, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in front of your mother’s desk, practically wringing your hands in an attempt to not seem jittery. You weren’t sure what you meant to tell her, it wasn’t as if you had some massive piece of evidence that you could bring out to say that Sylvain made you uncomfortable. All you wanted was advice, or maybe to have her moderate a bit. Unfortunately, there never seemed to be a good time for the conversation. 

You wouldn’t say anything at all if it weren’t for the fact that the teasing was getting to be too overwhelming. Sylvain always seemed to be standing too close, or his hand happened to be in a place to brush your thigh beneath the table, or he leaned in to speak intimately close to your ear—you didn't know what to do. She said to have grace and dignity, but there was no graceful way to blush, and no dignified way to stammar out basic words when he said something that embarrassed you terribly.

“What is it?” she asked, distractedly looking up at you. Always distracted. For most of your life, she had been a rather unapproachable figure, always consumed with her work, never as sensitive to your feelings as you would wish. But it had gotten worse here, or perhaps you were just more acutely aware of the isolation. 

“It’s just… I was wondering if we could talk?” 

She shuffled some papers, her attention clearly split. “Talk about what?” 

“Talk, um… It’s about Sylvain, I—” you cut yourself off at the sound of footsteps. All the fine hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as you jumped, looking over your shoulder even though you knew who it was, could feel it.

“Did somebody say my name?” 

Of course, of course, of course. You looked quickly at your mother and back at him, forcing a smile. “Ye-yeah, I was… wondering if she knew where you were.” 

“What a coincidence, I was just looking for you,” Sylvain said with a grin. You couldn’t tell from his expression if he had known, somehow, what you were about to say of it really was the world’s most unlucky coincidence. “I was thinking we could go to town for lunch, I know a place that makes food that almost has flavor to it.” 

Your mother was paying a little more attention now, looking up at the two of you. “I take it you’re getting along well?” 

Sylvain wrapped his arm around you before you could respond, squishing you against him affectionately. All you could smell was cologne, as well as the headier scent of Sylvain himself, a musky, manly smell. “Yep. You raised a truly wonderful daughter, although that’s not surprising for a woman as amazing and beautiful as you. How my father managed to find such perfect girls to bring home is beyond me, I guess the old man still has some taste left.” 

“I, um, I’m not feeling very well, actually,” you said softly, ducking out from under Sylvain’s arm. “I think I might go lay down. Sorry."

“Sure, no big deal," Sylvain said with a wink. "Next time, okay? I'll hold you to it."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "I'll see you both tonight."

"Ooo, about that, I've got plans tonight," Sylvain said. "If that's okay with the lady of the house, of course." 

Your mother smiled wryly. As if she had any say in what he did or didn’t do. Not even his own father could contain the lawless whirlwind that was Sylvain. 

"I’ll see you tomorrow then, Sylvain," you said as you made a hasty retreat. His eyes weighed heavily on your back, even when you left his direct line of sight. Sylvain knew what you had been about to say, what you were worried about. It was in the same deft, sneaky way he knew when he could tease you with nobody seeing, or what sort of comment would make your breath hiccup. 

But then, a part of your brain whispered, he was such an overt, abrasive flirt. He had no qualms about public trysts or scandals. You could be wrong about everything, wrong that there was some insidious intent behind his actions, and wrong that he would have time or desire to play such twisted mind games. You could be misremembering things, or fooling yourself into finding some deeper meaning out of your own sick perversions. After all, you could still clearly remember the sound of him groaning in pleasure while kissing that woman, your brain refused to let go of it. If it was you who conjured these sick fantasies, if it were your mind that assumed depravity where there was none, what did you do then? How did you overcome such sin?

Goddess save you.

vi.

jumping at shadows

Ghosts weren’t real. 

Probably. 

But if they were real, they would live in Castle Gautier. The place creaked and groaned constantly, strange noises following you, surrounding you. And it was cold. Being ill had only been an excuse earlier, but there was some truth there. Because it was so cold. Horribly cold, the kind that made you feel sick all the way in your bones, a clammy sort of congestion that resisted even the warmest of fires. 

Those two things were the war that kept you up far past your bedtime. Stupidly, you had left your favorite blanket in the library earlier when you had been reading and enjoying Sylvain's absence. Not only your favorite, but the warmest. Sleeping without it had proved impossible, but the idea of leaving your bedroom was nearly unbearable because you feared what you would find should you venture into the creepy, freezing hallways. There was a time, however, when the chill became genuinely unbearable. If you caught a cold or something, it would only make your situation in the eternally freezing Castle Gautier that much more miserable. 

Ghosts weren’t real. So you bundled up in your warmest housecoat and set out, holding a candle high and telling yourself you weren’t afraid. You couldn’t be hurt by that which did not exist.

How could a place be so dark? Not an absence of light, but void of it. Wherever your candle’s flickering illumination didn’t touch was eaten by the ravenous shadows. You had just made your way down the steps into the high ceiling atrium connecting the various wings when you heard what sounded like heavy, echoing footsteps. From where, you couldn’t tell. From who, you also couldn’t tell. If the dark had been a problem in the blocky square halls connecting the bedrooms, it was an overt menace here where there was more space to fill. But ghosts weren’t real. Fear froze you all the same, your straining eyes darting from side to side in a vain hope to see past the dark and wondering if you should just turn back now. 

But you’d come this far and the things you feared were childish. More than likely, you had heard the footsteps of the guards that remained on constant vigil. Cursing your cowardice, you found the guts to reach the library, focusing only on what was directly in front of you as you retrieved your blanket and returned to the main hall. It was quiet now. Eerily still. But…

But. 

Was there a sound? The wind, certainly. It howled right outside the walls, a threatening and mournful wail. Footsteps? You couldn’t tell. Chills covering your body, you looked around in an attempt to see beyond the encroaching darkness, but you still couldn’t see anything, it was impenetrable. If ghosts were real, that’s where they’d hide. You knew that for a fact. But they weren’t real.  

“Is someone there?” you called, your voice faint. More scraping. Footsteps, definitely footsteps. You couldn’t even tell where they were coming from, the sound echoed off of the tall ceiling. You weren’t scared. Ghosts weren’t real. “Hello?” 

“Boo!” 

The single word, spoken from behind you, induced the scream that had been building up in your chest, but a hand clapped over your mouth before the sound made it very far. You dropped your blanket and the candle holder, snuffing out your only source of light. Hot wax splattered your slippered feet. You thrashed, panicking, but your attacker kept you pinned against them, unable to turn around. 

Somewhere, emerging from the raw panic of fear, you realized that it couldn’t have been a ghost if you were being held by a fully corporeal figure. And then you realized that the air puffing against your ear was laughter, and the chest rumbling against your back was making a familiar sound. 

“I didn’t think you would freak out like that,” Sylvain said, still chuckling. All of the adrenaline pumping terror through your veins dissolved into anger as you made sense of everything, furious tears pricking in your eyes as you tried to wrestle out of his grip. “Hey, calm down. It’s just me,” he told you sweetly, rocking you back and forth. “I didn’t mean to scare you so much, honestly. Please don’t be mad.” 

When you stopped struggling so recklessly, Sylvain uncovered your mouth, that arm winding around your waist to hold you against him instead. 

“Let me go,” you said, pushing at his arms, still upset enough about being scared to sound angry.

“Can’t a guy have a minute to comfort his sweet baby sister?” Sylvain asked. Despite the soothing tenor of his voice, one of his hands pushed beneath your housecoat to press against your nearly bare chest. It froze you solid, the rest of your fear and anger turning to dread and confusion.

“Wha-what are you doing?” you asked, your voice slightly too high with stress. 

“Your heart is really racing,” Sylvain said, his voice slurring a little, rumbling in his chest. Was he drunk? “It reminds me of when we hunt small game. Their little hearts have to work so much harder. Especially when they’re scared. It makes me feel kinda bad, you know?” 

At his mentioning it, you could almost feel your heart beating against his large palm. Being compared to small prey didn’t at all help your nerves and embarrassment. While improbable, if anyone were to shine a light on the two of you at that moment, you knew what it would look like. The word was incest, and it didn’t matter that you weren’t actually related because—as Sylvain himself had stated—you were legally and technically family.  

“Let me go,” you told him, pushing against his arms with increasing distress. Sylvain didn’t budge, nuzzling against the side of your head. The air of his breath made you shiver. He smelled like pipe smoke and spice, his clothes cold from being outside. 

“Does this make you uncomfortable?” he asked. 

Yes, of course it did. But you felt as if that would be the wrong answer, or at least the one he was waiting for, the one he would tease you about. “Please, just…” You pushed at him again, trying to squirm away to no avail. Even if you were strong, which you knew you weren’t, Sylvain had the might of a Crest bearer who had been trained to wield weapons since childhood. It was a lost cause. When you whined, trying to worm your way out of his grip, Sylvain’s breath caught, his arms tightening. That really only made it worse, you struggled harder.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said, his voice a bit lower. He laughed again, but it was breathless. “To be honest, I didn’t think that you were so shameless. Not that I mind, I wondered if all of this wide-eyed innocence was an act.”

You froze, realizing that you had inadvertently been grinding against him. Even you knew enough to understand the immoral implications of that act. “No, that’s not-”

“Hey, don’t stop on my account,” Sylvain said, pulling you even closer. “I’m glad you’re finally warming up to your big brother like this.”

“Let me go, please,” you whined, pushing pathetically at his arms as your distress mounted. “This is wrong.”

Sylvain sighed, maybe responding to the threat of tears in your voice. “Hey, I was just teasing,” he said, finally releasing. “I don’t think anybody could fake this level of naivety.”

You sniffed, putting a few paces of space between the two of you and fixing your housecoat with jerky movements. He couldn’t possibly see very much of you through the unyielding darkness, but the feeling of exposure pressed insistently against you, a filthy weight. 

“I‘m not naïve,” you argued softly, embarrassed that he would think to apply a word with such childish connotations to you. Sure, you didn’t have his experience, but that wasn’t a bad thing. 

“That wasn’t an insult,” Sylvain said. “The opposite, actually. I think it’s pretty cute.”

“I…um…”  

“Anyway,” Sylvain continued, gracefully saving you from stammering out a response you didn’t have. “Why are you up so late? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”  

At least now the darkness worked in your favor; he couldn’t see your embarrassment. There wasn’t much of an age difference between the two of you, yet he was talking like you were a child. Again. “I left my blanket down here,” you muttered, stooping over to collect what you had dropped. It was difficult to find the candle in the dark, your fingers trailing over droplets of dried wax before finding what you wanted. You hauled the blanket over your shoulder and set the candle back into the holder, unsure what you could do about the mess. 

“You know, if you’re having a hard time staying warm,” Sylvain said, “I’ve got something that might help you in my room.”

“Do you have extra blankets?” you asked doubtfully as you stood up, squinting through the dark as if that would help you see him better. 

“No, but I’ve got a better way of staving off the cold,” Sylvain said. 

You heard the sound of a match being struck, and he held out the flame. You let Sylvain light the candle, getting a better look at him in its flickering glow and muttering your thanks. He didn’t look drunk. His shadowed eyes looked plenty lucid, that smile making your breath catch. Everything about that look and his low, teasing tone of voice warned you not to ask. After what he’d done, you really should have been running back to your room and locking the door behind you. But you didn’t. 

“How?” you asked.

“I’ve been told I make for an excellent source of heat for chilly nights like these,” he said. “If you come into my room, I’d be happy to keep you warm.” 

You stared at him in disbelief, waiting for the other shoe to drop. All you got was silence. “Are you… joking?” you finally asked.

Sylvain laughed, a casual, relaxed sound. “Ah, you’re too much,” he told you fondly. Then, sighing, his smile dropped. “You really have no idea what it does to a guy, do you? I swear, I try to restrain myself, but sometimes I can’t help it.”

“I-I wish you wouldn’t,” you said.

“Is that why you lied about being sick today?” 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t lie.”

“Really? Maybe next time I’ll cancel my plans so I can stay home and take care of you,” Sylvain said. “That’s what brothers do, right? I’m sure I can make you comfortable.” 

“I… um…” you stopped, exhaling slowly. “It’s okay, I’m feeling better now. But I should… I should go to bed, I’m very tired.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sylvain agreed, his little smile not fading. “You better hurry, before the boogeyman catches you out of bed so late. Who knows what he might do to a cute girl like you.”

“Goodnight, Sylvain,” you said softly, watching him warily for a moment before turning around and ascending the stairs, the light wavering with your shaking hand.

Shut into the sanctuary of your room, you put a hand over your heart and felt it beating, pounding against your ribcage and then against your palm. Threatening to burst right out of your chest, to run off like scared prey. 

vii.

a wolf in sheep’s clothing

“You were a pretty big hit tonight,” Sylvain said on the way up to your rooms. His was further down the hall, so it couldn’t be avoided that you’d walk together. Your thoughts on the subject of your overly friendly stepbrother were impossible to make sense of, but your discomfort remained. The other night had crossed a line, you thought, but he hadn’t mentioned it. And maybe he had been drunk, and maybe you were tired enough to be misremembering, and maybe—

But you couldn’t help the unease that crawled through you whenever he was around. 

"Everyone was really nice," you agreed, looking at the floor to avoid accidentally meeting his eye.

“Especially the guys, right?" Sylvain teased, his voice friendly enough, but not entirely. Or you were reading into it out of nerves. He had been perfectly pleasant all night, after all. 

“I don’t know,” you said with a noncommittal shrug.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice,” Sylvain said, feigning surprise. “Viscount Braley’s eyes almost popped out of his head.” His amused tone died off into a sigh. “Not that I blame them, but it feels pretty weird to have other guys looking at your little sister like that. I always thought it was a huge overreaction when the brother of a girl I was dating threatened to fight me, but I’m starting to get it.” 

“It wasn’t like that,” you said.

“All I’m saying is that it’s a good thing you have me around to keep them in check. I hate to think what those jerks would do if you didn’t have anyone watching over you… And speaking of that,” he continued, his tone lightening, “did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” 

After everything else he had said, the praise shouldn’t have been so potent. But it was, and your face responded in kind, blood rushing to your cheeks and ears in a blatant signpost of your feelings. 

“Thank you. You-you look nice too,” you said, trying to deflect. It wasn’t a lie, either, although you were certain Sylvain knew how good he looked in the red suitcoat. The scarlet hair should have made for an overbearing combination, but the rich velvet’s shade was dark enough to look nothing less than devastatingly handsome.   

“You think?” he asked with a cocky smile. “I was the best looking guy there, wasn’t I?” 

You blinked, uncertain of how you were meant to answer that. If you were to be transparently honest, Sylvain was the best looking of them all. He had something other men lacked. Despite his friendly features and noble polish, Sylvain’s sparkling brown eyes held a visceral kind of thrill, an excitement playing on the edge of danger. Even the women who scorned him—and there were more than a few of those—couldn’t help but stare enviously when you arrived together. But you couldn’t admit that openly to yourself, let alone to him. 

“Um…” 

“Wait,” Sylvain said, his smile dropping, “you’re not interested in someone else, are you? There were a lot of eligible noblemen there.”

“It wasn’t… it’s not like that,” you said, balking at the insinuation. It wasn’t true, but it shouldn’t have mattered if it were. He was your stepbrother, not your husband or keeper. Seeing him in that way would be, at best, incredibly weird. 

“Sure, sure,” Sylvain allowed with an ironic nonchalance, shrugging. 

As it so often happened with him, you didn’t know what to say to that. Explaining would just make it worse. Arriving at your door came with a sigh of relief. 

“Um… Goodnight, Sylvain,” you said, twisting the knob.  

“Yeah, goodnight,” he said, his expression still unreadably impassive in a way you didn't like. 

There was nothing for you to do about that, so you gave him a final nod and opened your door to slip inside, nudging it shut behind you. But it didn’t close. 

“Just one more thing,” Sylvain said. The shiny leather toe of a man’s dress boot was wedged between door and frame, quickly followed by the rest of him. You stumbled back, eyeing him warily as he closed the door behind himself with a creak of old wood and the metal click. “Don’t worry, I know it was an exciting night and you’re probably tired,” he told you with a soothing voice, hands raised innocently. “I’ll be quick.”  

“Do you need something?” you asked, your heart racing so fast you almost worried he would be able to hear it. 

"No, it—hey, calm down, okay?” Sylvain said, clearly trying to placate you. “It’s just something that’s been bothering me for a while, but I didn’t want to bring it up before and embarrass you.”

Your shoulders raised protectively, your hands raising to nervously pull your hair over your shoulders to hide their trembling. “What is it?” 

“Come here,” Sylvain said, holding his hand out invitingly. 

“Tell me first,” you said, drawing further into yourself. 

Sylvain sighed impatiently, stepping forward and grabbing you before you could move away. You yelped as he twisted you around, pushing you back against the door. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it knocked your breath away. He crowded in so close that your chests almost touched. When you tried to force him off, to wiggle away, Sylvain entwined your fingers together to pin that hand by your head, his other arm braced against the door to cage you in. And then all of your fighting stilled when he pushed his knee between your legs. It was a position so suggestive you really didn’t think there was any way to mistake its profane meaning. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, testing his hold on your hand with a final surge of all your strength. He didn’t falter, not even a little. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sylvain said, so earnestly you could almost believe him. “Do you remember when we went to town and that girl left a mark on my neck?” 

“I…. Yeah,” you said, hoping that going along with it would make it release you faster. 

“And then you lied, saying you knew what it was. Do you remember that?” 

“I wasn’t lying,” you said with a rapid shake of your head.

He snorted. “Yeah, you were, and I think this is pretty important knowledge now that you’re going out with other guys. I can’t let my baby sister get taken advantage of just because she doesn’t know any better.” Sylvain brushed your hair away from your neck, which was exposed in full due to the scooped neckline of your dress. You flinched away from the touch, but there was nowhere to go. 

“Stop,” you begged, pushing at him again. He ignored you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you up, adjusting his stance so he could get at your neck. 

“I guess you could say that this is how people mark their territory,” Sylvain explained, his breath brushing against your jaw, down the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips close enough that you could feel them move. “It’s a pretty possessive thing to do.” You whimpered when Sylvain licked the spot above your fluttering pulse, shivered at the nervously electrified sensation it caused. “See?” he asked, pleased with your reaction. “It feels kinda good, right?” 

“N-no,” you told him, trying desperately to push him away. Sylvain, again, ignored you, his lips ghosting further down to the juncture of neck and shoulder. He kissed the spot there once, his tongue dragging across the flesh. Your breath shuddered, your entire body shaking hard against his. Another kiss, and then his mouth opened enough to suck against the skin. Gently, at first, and then not so gently, teeth joining tongue to add to the sensation. You writhed against him in an attempt to escape the pain, whimpering softly despite your best efforts to endure it in silence. Sylvain groaned, his mouth working harder against the skin, definitely enough to leave a mark. 

"Sylvain…” Your whining attempt to stop him only made Sylvain more intent. He pushed you harder against the door, his hand squeezing yours painfully, his knee drawing up to firmly grind you against his muscular thigh. There were layers of fabric separating your sensitive core from the pressure, but it didn’t stop the regretful, sickening pleasure. You mewled, a terrible little noise you couldn't swallow back. Pain shouldn’t have been pleasurable in any way, but the feeling of his mouth on your neck had your body writhing, unintentionally and gracelessly grinding yourself against his thigh. 

Finally, his mouth left your skin with a slick pop, a sensation nearly as powerful as the act itself. Release was followed by flare of heat and goosebumps in a liquidy bloom from where he’d marked you. “There,” Sylvain said, leaning back to get a look at his work with a satisfied expression. “And now you know.” His finger traced along the mark, his expression twisting slightly with regret. “Sorry. I may have been a bit too rough, but it’ll fade. Just be sure to keep it covered up until then.” His lips quirked into a teasing smirk, his eyes half lidded. “You wouldn’t want anyone to know that you let your big brother give you a hickey, right?”

You nodded slowly, your bottom lip trembling with the force of despair and disgust the comment inspired within you. 

Sylvain’s eyes tracked the motion, the playful expression slipping. Then he exhaled harshly, looking away. “Yeah, okay. I should, uh, I should leave. Now.” With a final squeeze of your hand, he peeled his body away from yours and took a few steps back, letting you clumsily stumble away from him with your hand covering your neck. Sylvain’s cheeks were flushed, another shade of fetching rose to add to the red and white blur that became of him as your eyes filled with tears.

“Goodnight,” he said as he opened your door. “And, hey, if you get cold or can’t sleep, I don’t lock my door.” 

You nodded, just wanting Sylvain to leave. With a final once over that made your skin crawl, he did. When you were sure he was an appropriate distance down the hall, you rushed to your door and locked it, bracing yourself against it as if he were going to return and attempt to batter it down. The mark on your neck throbbed in time with your heartbeat. When you traced it with your fingertips, you could feel the intentions of his teeth. 

For a moment, you considered telling your mother, begging her to step in. But then Sylvain’s question came to mind—You wouldn’t want anyone to know that you let your big brother give you a hickey, right? No. Absolutely not. And given how little fight you actually put up, certainly not enough to have evidence of your attempt to stop him, you weren’t sure it was believable if you tried to tell her you didn’t want it. Really, you could barely believe it yourself considering the hollow ache that had sparked up between your legs, a needful thrum that begged satisfaction. 

Being an adult, shedding childish innocence, meant cynical recognition of the real world. In the real world, you had secrets drenched in shame, a heart beating with the frantic speed of prey, a hickey on your neck from your stepbrother, and a fragile position in a court that barely accepted your presence with a family that could easily ruin you if they learned of this. These were the adult games with their high stakes and rigid rules. Hide that which was unsavory and claim ignorance of your sick secrets. And then, to maintain the game of pretend that people called the status quo, ignore ignorance itself. 

viii.

face the music

All dressed up for your first county ball in Gautier territory—a tradition for the young, available ladies and lords with titles or enough wealth—you looked your very best. Being so awkward, you liked to think that clothes would work for you where your clumsy social skills did not. It was harder to dwell on your reflected image now, your eyes kept anxiously returning to the high neck. Stylish, yes, but also necessary. Your skin was still stained with an ugly, healing bruise right where your neck met shoulder, faded from the days that had passed but dark enough to need covering. Remembering that night made you feel sick. Thinking of Sylvain made you feel dirty. What right did you have to play the demure girl wishing only to dance and mingle when you were tainted? Those thoughts, the ones that had kept you mostly hidden away in your room for the past few days, filled you with tumultuous disgust and shame, tears threateningly pricking at the corner of your kohl-lined eyes.

Forcing those emotions down so as to not ruin all of the work you had put into looking nice, you turned away from the mirror, your long skirt flaring as you twirled. It was fine. You looked good. Dancing was fun. The dinner the other night had gone well before he ruined it, the dance would too. It helped that Sylvain had made it clear that he wouldn’t be attending, saying that he was likely to get accosted by unhappy exes if he tried. 

After going downstairs, you preened beneath your mother’s hard-won attention and affection. These days, the two of you sometimes felt like strangers, but she had an affinity for clothes much like your own, admiring the gown sent in from Fhirdiad dressmakers and fixing strands of errant hairs. Considering your age and the event, it wasn’t proper for her to be your chaperone as she might have otherwise, but she was worried. There was a sense of dark comedy in the knowledge that you were likely safer at a ball than in your own home, the type of cruel joke that only Sylvain might find actually funny. 

Eventually, wrapped in a fashionable capelet that matched your ensemble, you were escorted by the Gautier’s coachman to the carriage, settling in for the ride. You signaled to leave with a few raps on the ceiling, but before it could, the cab jostled, the door opening. You watched with wide-eyed dread as Sylvain climbed in, closing the door behind him and settling in the opposite seat in a whirl of his fluttering cloak and the rich scent of cologne. 

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I should be the one asking that, you almost left without me,” Sylvain said, tapping the ceiling to tell the coach to take off. The horses jolted into action, the cab jostling as the wheels were pulled out of their muddy ruts. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, holding out half a hope that this was one of his not so funny jokes. 

“We’re going to the ball, aren’t we?” 

“Bu-but… You said you weren’t.” 

“Only because I didn’t realize you wanted to,” Sylvain said. “If you had told me, I wouldn’t have made other plans. Luckily, I was already dressed to go out when I heard you leaving. Your mother was so relieved. She really worries about you, you know that?” 

You gaped at him in utter disbelief, all thoughts of having a nice night out torn into tatters. “You didn’t have to-to do that,” you told him. 

“I can’t just let some opportunistic creep take advantage of my sweet baby sister’s innocence.” 

Hearing Sylvain say that felt like a slap in the face. The bruise on your neck throbbed dully, the memory of his thigh between your legs making them clamp together. “I don’t need a chaperone,” you said in as even of a voice as you could, your hands clenched into fists on your lap. “It’s a dance, I’ll be surrounded by people.” 

“And if you’re dancing with a guy and his hand happens to drift a bit too far down your back? Or if he lures you away from the ball with a cheesy line?” Sylvain asked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, we both know you don’t have it in you to make him back off.” 

Of all the embarrassing reactions to have, tears pricked at your eyes, shame burning your cheeks. 

“But,” Sylvain continued, either ignoring your reaction or pretending he didn’t see it. “Nobody’s going to try anything as long as I’m there, so it won’t matter.” 

“Nobody would do that anyway,” you muttered, wanting desperately to sound strong but unable to speak any louder for fear of your voice trembling. 

“You really think so?” Sylvain asked, raising an eyebrow. “In that case, I’m doing you a favor here. Maybe you haven’t realized it yet, but now that your mother’s married into the Gautier family, you’re one of the most eligible girls in the Kingdom. Not to mention your beauty. It’s a potent combination. If men aren’t looking exploit your money or title, its because they’re too busy wondering what they can say or do to fuck you.”  

The vulgarity made you cringe back into your seat, your shoulders curled up as if to protect yourself. You stared at your shoes, trying to will away your blush, to stamp down your embarrassment. “Stop.” 

Sylvain laughed. “Don’t be so embarrassed. You’ll have to figure these things out eventually. And as your big brother, it’s kind of my job to teach you stuff, right? Like the other night-”

“Don’t!” you told him, your voice louder in panic, a horribly sick feeling of guilt and revulsion and shame crushing you from the inside out. “Just… just stop.”

“Wait, are you… mad at me?” Sylvain asked, sounding genuinely confused. 

“I… I am,” you told him, having to settle for a whisper to hide the tremble in your voice. Speaking was dangerous, you were having a hard time fighting the tears. “The other night… that was too much, I…”  

“Oh, come on,” Sylvain said, rolling his eyes. “I know you liked it, you were basically humping my thigh.” 

“I wasn’t!” 

Sylvain gave you a flat look, his thick eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. “Next you’re going to tell me that it wasn't you who was moaning, right?” 

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, your voice even softer, almost inaudible.

“Yeah, because it felt good.”

You shook your head, trying desperately to steady yourself. 

“But what I really want to know is if you touched yourself after I left,” Sylvain said, breezing right through your distress, his brown eyes alight in the warm lamp light. 

You just stared at him, feeling your dupe heart pound against your ribs, against the structured bodice of your dress, your lungs desperately trying to inflate against its confines. 

Sylvain’s head tilted thoughtfully. “Huh. Now that I think of it, you probably don’t even know what I mean,” he said, scooting forward. The cab, while luxurious, lacked space. With his annoyingly long legs, the two of you couldn’t even sit directly across from one another without his knees pressing into yours. So when Sylvain grabbed you by the thighs to pull you towards him, you couldn’t escape; there was nowhere to go.

“Stop!” you protested, trying to squirm away. The way he pulled you forward caused your skirt to ride up over your knees, the layers of fabric getting wedged beneath you. 

“Shh, don’t you think you should be a little more quiet?” he asked, wedging his leg between yours to pry them apart. “Unless you want to get caught.” That dreadful threat made him smile. 

“Please stop,” you said in a hushed voice, pushing at him. “I don’t—” Sylvain cut you off by flipping your skirt up enough to get his hand beneath, his palm sliding across your knee and inwards, his calloused fingertips skimming your ticklishly sensitive inner thigh right above the garters which held your stockings in place. 

“Relax,” Sylvain said in a voice that might have been comforting if his eyes weren’t so dark, if they weren’t so obscenely fixated between your legs. “I’m going to show you something. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

Being looked at so intimately was almost the worst of it all, self-conscious embarrassment hitting you in a wave of panicked heat. It was a petty, shameful feeling, but you’d seen several of the girls Sylvain had been intimate with and you hated to compare yourself to others, but it was impossible to not be acutely aware of what you lacked in comparison to them. Desperate to escape his gaze, your back bowed in an attempt to displace his grip, your hands shoving your skirt down to hide. 

Sylvain’s solution was to grab your hips and drag you down almost flat onto the seat, sliding forward enough to support your lower half on his lap with your legs spread on either side of his torso. The position was absurdly awkward in the cramped conditions, but it made it harder for you to fight and gave him easier access.  

“These are adorable,” Sylvain said, flipping your skirt all the way over your waist in a puff of pettiskirts to look at your panties, his thumb grazing the delicate little bow with a warm smile. “You didn’t wear them for me, did you?” 

“N-no. That’s not… I didn’t,” you babbled, your voice tight with distress. Your underwear wasn’t meant to be sexual, nobody was supposed to see it. The garments were nice because you liked the lace and the bows, but now it just felt filthy. Even when you got your arms beneath you, you lacked the leverage to squirm away from him, all it did was spare your neck. “Please ss-stop, Sylvain.” 

“I’m going to be gentle, don’t worry. Girls are really delicate,” Sylvain said, twisting his wrist to run his fingers over the seat of your panties, applying the slightest amounts of pressure. Your eyes went wide, your free hand giving up on trying covering yourself to grab his wrist so he couldn’t do that. Not because it hurt, but you almost wished it did. That’d be better than the knee jerk feeling of pleasure that followed his touch. He smiled. “You have to be gentle, you know? Do a little exploration, figure out what she likes.” 

His long index finger pushed between the outer lips of your pussy, digging the fabric right against your entrance. Your hips jumped against his hand, your thighs tensing with an attempt to close, obstructed by his torso. And he was watching it all, devouring your reactions with those too-perceptive eyes. Stopping him had proven impossible, you opted to cover your face instead, trying to shut it all out.  

“Most guys are way too selfish,” Sylvain continued, his voice increasingly smug as his finger dragged upward, using the fabric as added friction as he drew a lazy circle around your clit. “They don’t want to take the time to know what a girl really needs.”

You whimpered, turning your head away and biting your lip to hide your reaction. Sylvain paused for a moment, spreading your outer lips to give him better access to your swelling clit. All of this through the thin fabric of your fancy underwear, adding a level of removed friction that was driving you wild. 

By the point he was rubbing your clit in earnest, adding more pressure and focusing on the spots that made your hips jerk and thighs twitch, you couldn’t hide the noises you were making. Your entire body was pulled painfully tense, writhing in his lap.  

“Let me see your face, cutie,” Sylvain said.

“Nn-no,” you whined, your voice muffled through your hand, although you couldn’t say what it was that you were rejecting. You didn’t understand at all why, despite every attempt you made to ignore it, his touch felt so good. There was too much stimulation, and your hips kept jerking forward like you wanted more. Worse, you could feel the way your pussy clenched hungrily around nothing, a strange and empty ache. 

“Okay, that’s fine,” Sylvain said, continuing his torment as if it was something casual, something he didn’t even have to think about. “Since this is just a demonstration, I won’t get worked up about it. But when we do this for real, you’re going to do everything I tell you to do, okay?” 

A breathless, helpless keen left your mouth. A sound that was meant to be a rejection, although didn’t count for much when your clit was pulsing beneath his fingers as more and more blood rushed between your legs, tension building beneath every drag of his fingers. 

“I mean it,” Sylvain said. “I expect my sweet little sister to listen to me while I’m fucking her, otherwise I might just have to take you over my knee or something.” 

You made a sound like he’d punched you, almost, your hand dropping to look at Sylvain with some disturbing combination of lust and horror—feelings that had no synergy with your body’s reaction. The twitch of your hips, the anxiously empty tightening of your cunt, the drop of heat and swirling dark lust that only intensified the building pleasure. 

Sylvain laughed. “I knew that would turn you on,” he said smugly, his fingers abandoning your needy clit and returning to your entrance, pressing the fabric between the tense muscles so it could absorb more of your wet arousal. The stimulation drew a sharp keen out of your throat and his laughter cut off. “Fuck, that’s…”

You shook your head. “That’s not…” Not true? It was. You knew it was, he knew it was, all of the same and disgust and despair and self-hatred in the world didn’t make it any less true. “Please… stop.” 

“Fine, fine,” Sylvain agreed warmly, his hand retreating from between your legs. “I think we’re about to be there anyway.” Considering you had been the one to ask him to stop, it was sickening that you would mourn the loss, loathing the feeling of empty need thudding dully between your legs, an unfulfilled ache that made you squirm. “Ah, we do have a slight problem though. There’s no way you can wear these,” he said regretfully, pulling at the inside seam of your panties. “They’re soaked.” 

You quickly pushed your skirt down, awkwardly pulling yourself back into your own seat. Sylvain stopped you, holding your leg in place. 

“It’s fine,” you said, unable to meet his eye, pulling hard to free your leg. 

“No, it’s not,” Sylvain told you, emphasizing the words like you were too dumb to understand. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold onto them for you until we get home.” 

“But then I won’t have…” you trailed off, flushing as you realized what should have been obvious. Instead you shook your head, unable to look at him directly. “No, I-I won’t.” Sylvain still didn’t release you as the coach pulled alongside the curb, the noise of horses and voices becoming more distinct on the other side, light slanting in through the edges of the drawn curtains. You tugged against him again, desperate to get out of the compromising position. 

“Either you give them to me, or I’ll get them myself,” Sylvain said playfully, like this was a game. “I wonder what the footman would think if he saw that.” 

“You wouldn’t,” you said with fresh horror. Sylvain’s eyes didn’t falter, daring you to call his bluff. The sickening thing was that you couldn’t tell if he would or wouldn’t, only that he wasn’t the one that would be exposed. 

“Fine,” you said, averting your gaze and blinking hard. He released you. Before you could think too hard about it, you pushed your panties down your hips under the cover of your skirt, over your knees and to your ankles. They were, as he said, soaked. Grimacing in disgust, you held them out. 

“I don’t get why you’re so mad, you’re the one who got this wet for your big brother,” Sylvain said, waving them towards you. 

You winced at the taunt, but otherwise ignored him, quickly arranging your skirts back into place with shaking hands. At least it was a long dress. Shame dyed your cheeks in bright heat and you knew he was looking at you as he sniffed and pocketed your panties, you could feel the phantom weight of his touch lingering between your legs, the wrongness of your skirts inner layer rubbing directly against your bare skin, but acknowledging any of it would certainly tip you over the edge. 

The footman opened the door and you hoped to the goddess that you didn’t look as wrecked as you felt, forcing a smile and accepting his help out of the carriage. Sylvain pulled on a pair of gloves as he joined you. In the limelights, his smile shone brilliantly, his hair luminously outlined to a scarlet blaze. Giving no indication of what had just happened, Sylvain held out his arm, his self satisfied umber eyes promising every moral peril you could imagine. And then some.   

“Shall we?” 

ix.

in for a penny

“Did you have a good time?” Sylvain asked as the coach trundled away from the curb, his tone perfectly normal for such a banal question. That did nothing for the sinking dread. Although you had been able to pretend that nothing had happened for most of the evening, that didn’t make it true. Ignorance was a rule in the game of pretend, but harsh reality would always collect its due acknowledgement. 

“Yeah, it was fun,” you told him. Your hands were shaking. The air was cold, and too thin. “I’m really tired though, so I’m gonna rest. If that’s okay with you.” 

“Sure, of course,” Sylvain said, no indication of deception on his face as he dimmed the lamps in their fancy sconces. “It’s pretty late.”

You bit your lip, sickened nerves twisting in your stomach. The uncomfortable breeze between your legs had haunted you the entire night, but now that you were alone with him again, it was all you could think about. 

“May I… have them back?” you asked quietly, staring at your hands folded in your lap. 

“I told you,” he said, “when we get home.” 

The idea of arguing occurred to you, but you worried about where that would go. Every thought of yours that included Sylvain was heavy with horror and desire, you didn’t want to try and figure it out beyond those awful, shameful feelings. You just wanted the night to be over, and to never look Sylvain in the eye again. But, for the time being, it was enough to rest your head against the side with your eyes closed and think about anything and everything that wasn’t what he had done earlier. 

You must have dozed off in some capacity, or at least fallen into that state between wakefulness and sleep that left you only vaguely aware of the world, because it seemed like very little time had passed when Sylvain was nudging you awake. You blinked, sluggishly accepting his help out of the carriage. The estate was mostly dark, of course. Your mother and Margrave went to sleep at a reasonable hour. However, since you and Sylvain were still expected back, there were enough lights that you didn’t have to navigate upstairs in the dark. 

With every step, your anxiety grew. Would he try something again? The mark on your neck thumped dully and you resisted the urge to touch it, knowing he would see. Keeping your breathing evened out was difficult and by the time you reached your door, your entire body was wound tight as a spring. 

“Goodnight, Sylvain,” you said, facing your door, your heart racing as you waited for him to continue past you to his own room. 

“Sure, goodnight,” Sylvain said, not so much as pausing. You exhaled, watching him go with your hand on the knob, ready to rush inside and close the door before he could break in. He looked curiously over his shoulder. “Didn’t you want these back?” he asked, holding up his hand. Your panties hung from his pointer finger like a little flag, swinging as he walked. 

You blushed, compulsively looking either way in fear that someone would stumble upon the scene. At the same time, you hesitated at the idea of engaging with Sylvain anymore for the night, ready to count it as a lost cause. You would never wear them again anyway. 

“You’re really not at all concerned about what I might do with them?” Sylvain asked, sounding surprised. He was almost to his door. “That’s pretty kinky of you, baby sis. Not that I mind. Goodnight.” 

“Wait,” you called, breaking down at the last minute and trotting down the hall. Sylvain didn’t stop, opening his door and going into his room. The door was heavy enough to shut most of the way, but he didn’t close it behind him. It rested uncertainly against the frame, an obvious invitation. You pushed your way in, but stopped at the threshold, refusing to go any further. “Sylvain, wait, you-you said you would give them back.” 

“They’re all yours,” he said, holding them out without looking at you, loosening his cravat to put it on the dresser. 

Despite it being only down the hall, you had never seen Sylvain’s room. It was much grander than your own. Warmer, since most of it was arranged around the fireplace which already burned with an inviting little fire. A few chairs, tables, the dresser, and a large bed filled out the rest, as well as layered rugs and furs on the floor. The smell was more inviting than you wanted to admit, a mixture of Sylvain’s cologne and the soap used for laundry and smoke and something deeper, muskier. It was a strange realization that you had never been inside a man’s room. You didn’t really want to make a habit of it now. 

“Are you going to come get them or not?” Sylvain asked, giving you a sideways look. 

Knowing he was playing with you but unable to see any way around it, you approached him, meaning to snatch them away quickly and retreat. But Sylvain didn’t stop you, letting you take the ruined garment and withdraw. 

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “I told you I’d give them back.” He paused, setting his cufflinks on the dresser. “But while you’re here, why don’t you sit down? I’d love to do a little more sibling bonding. We could pick up where we left off, there are a few more things I’d love to teach you.” 

“I don’t… want…” you said stiltedly, your stomach lurching at the reminder of earlier. You should have said no, and made it clear that you absolutely didn’t want that, but instead you ducked your head. “Um… Goodnight.” Embarrassed and uncomfortable, you turned around and went to the door, catching it from closing all the way. 

In a way, it wasn’t a surprise when the doorknob was pulled from your grip, the door slammed shut by a big hand that came from behind you. Surprise made you yelp, stumbling to the side to get away from him and avoid a repeat of last time. Unfortunately, the only ‘away’ was further into his room. Backing up, your foot caught on the rug, sending you stumbling awkwardly against one of the tables. 

“Why are you acting so weird?” Sylvain asked, giving you an absurdly innocent sideways frown. “Are you upset or something?” 

“No,” you said, righting yourself. “I-I just want to go to bed.”

“It can’t be something I did,” he said, ignoring you. “Right?” 

Your only response to that was a little laugh, but it sounded more like you were sobbing because it wasn’t funny and the fact that you couldn’t leave was making it difficult to breathe. There was no way he didn’t know what he was doing. You needed to get control of yourself. Crying in front of Sylvain, on top of everything else, would be too embarrassing. 

Staring hard at the rug beneath your feet and blinking fast, you tried to get a full breath. In, and out. “I’d rather ta-talk tomorrow.” 

“Oh, well, that’s fine,” Sylvain said. His shiny dancing shoes slowly entered your vision, compelling you to look up at his approach. “I bet you’re pretty worn out from all the dancing, huh? It’s okay. I’m not really in the mood for talking either.” He sounded innocent, but his expression was anything but. You could only guess what he meant.

“I-I just…” you stammered, moving to the side in the hopes he’d let you slip past and leave.  

“You just…?” Sylvain repeated with a smile, grabbing you around the waist to pin you between him and the table. “Come on, whatever you want to say, say it.”  

“Nn-no, no—do-don’t,” you said, pushing against his chest. You let the panties drop out of your hand, choosing to fight his hold with all the frantic insistence of a trapped animal. At this point, you didn’t care if you hurt him, you just needed to get away. 

Surprised by the reaction, Sylvain caught your wrists. “Woah, what is going on with you?” he asked. The table’s edge dug painfully into your back, but you didn’t let that stop you from thrashing around in an attempt to break his grip.

“You know,” you told him, looking everywhere that wasn’t Sylvain’s eyes. “Let me…me go—oh.”

“Is this because of earlier?” he asked. “That was just a joke, you know that, right? I didn’t think it would make you this upset.”  

While his words might have made you doubt yourself, at least a little, Sylvain couldn’t contain his look of amusement. That’s what it was. Not concerned, not confused, not playful. For the first time, Sylvain truly looked mean. He knew how upset you were, but it didn’t convince him to let up. He was only doubling down. You whined, intensifying your efforts to break his hold. The way you were thrashing had the table groaning, the clutter on it knocking around, but you didn’t care about the noise, or the pain of its sharp lip biting into your lower back, or anything. All you wanted was to be as far away from him as possible. 

And it wasn’t working. Sylvain’s grip on your wrists hadn’t loosened, his body remained flush against yours. 

“Le-let me go,” you demanded again, breathing hard enough that your head spun with an awful mixture of panic and exertion. 

“No, you almost have it,” he said, not bothering to hide his smile.

Your eyebrows furrowed, heat quickly rising to your face as humiliation washed over you anew. Fighting was futile, you had never been able to so much as break his hold on you before. All it did was tire you out. Sylvain didn’t even have to try to overpower you, it was that easy for him. This whole situation felt so dramatic, so intense, but it was nothing to Sylvain. A diversion at best, a game that you were only making worse by reacting like this.

Going limp, you buried your face against his chest, hoping to hide your blushing cheeks, to hide the way you were still valiantly fighting off tears. 

“Is that it?” Sylvain asked. 

“You… win,” you said, your voice half muffled and defeated.

“If I won, what’s my prize?” he teased, releasing your wrists. You made a noncommittal sound in response, hoping the pathetic display would be the thing to make him give up. “Actually… nevermind, I know what I want.” When you didn’t play along, Sylvain pulled you away from his chest to look at you. His hand was unnervingly gentle in the way it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing under your bottom lip. “Aren’t you going to ask what I want?” 

“What?” you asked trepidatiously, knowing that he’d tell you regardless.

“It’s not that bad,” Sylvain told you, his eyes widening imploringly. “A kiss from my beautiful sister, that’s all.” 

Goddess save you. 

“I-I can’t,” you told him, shaking your head, your nervous eyes fluttering from his eyes to his lips and back again.

“I’ll be your first, right?” Sylvain asked, glee shining through in his gaze. “Don’t worry, it’s easy, just follow my lead.”

You stammered out a few attempts at rejection as he threaded a hand in your hair, your breathing picking up even more. “I-I don’t…” Sylvain ignored you. “Do-don’t think—” The contact of his lips meeting yours was jarring. You didn’t know what to do, but Sylvain didn’t seem concerned. He was gentle at first, tilting your head to make the fit better, trying to tempt you into moving with him slowly. Feeling his tongue run along the seam of your lips made you turn your face away regardless of the pressure on your scalp, the wet wrongness of it already bordering the obscene.  

“We… we can’t,” you got out, fighting your labored breathing. “Sylvain, this isn’t funny. It-it’s incest.” 

"Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be into it either,” he said, his chest puffing with a short laugh. 

Before you could argue, Sylvain used his grip on your hair to tilt your head again, dragging you back into another kiss. This time, your lips were already parted for him, and he didn’t hesitate before pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your brain shorted out, you had no idea how you were meant to respond. You could barely breathe. The sensation of him exploring your mouth was upsetting and gross in its perversion, but it also wasn’t. The raw, animal intimacy of such an act appealed to the darkest parts of yourself, the part that whimpered and moaned when he threatened to spank you. Sylvain groaned, a low sound deep in his chest, and you melted a little, shivering in his arms. 

Still, you weren’t distracted enough by the kiss to ignore Sylvain lifting your skirt and pettiskirts with fistfuls of fabric until he could sneak his hand beneath, but there wasn’t much you could do to stop that either. Tugging on his hair only got a little growl out of him, and trying to pull against his arm directly did nothing. Ultimately, all you could do to protect yourself was tense up, your thighs pressing together so tightly the muscles quivered. Sylvain bit your lip as a diversion, using his foot to widen your stance and then his knee, getting enough space for his hand to land flat between your legs. The light slap wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but the jolt of pressure made you cry out weakly, a sound he eagerly swallowed. When his middle finger curled between your outer lips, dragging lightly right over your entrance, you whined.

Sylvain pulled back from the kiss, his brown eyes glowing. “If I had known you’d get this wet just from a few kisses, I could have saved myself a lot of time.” 

You exhaled, the air trembling with the rest of you. “You-you said you wanted just a…a kiss.”

“Did I?” Sylvain asked. Without warning, his middle finger pressed harder, getting past the resistant muscles of your entrance and deeper, all the way into your pussy. There was no resistance, his finger easily slipping in from how wet you were. You gasped harshly, your posture going rigidly straight at the feeling of your inner walls clamping down around the intrusion. “I already left you unsatisfied earlier, what kind of terrible big brother would I be to ignore you in your time of need again?”

“I-I don’t… I’m dizzy,” you said weakly, clutching at him with shaking hands. “I ca-can’t…” 

“Hey, don’t worry, I get it,” he told you, saccharinely sweet. “We can take things slow. That’s what you need, right? I’ll take care of you.” Sylvain pulled his hand away, letting your skirt drop. Relief was short lived as he dragged you away from the edge of the table, walking the four or so paces backwards until he could sit on the bed. Even though you stood a head taller than him while he sat, you were no less trapped, kept in place between his legs with his grip on your hips. 

“How do you get this off anyway?” Sylvain asked, pinching at the fabric of your dress. Your stomach dropped. 

“Nn-” 

“Oh, nevermind.” He turned you away from him in an awkward stumble, undoing the clasp at the very top of the dress's high neck and working down. “Got it.” 

“Wa-ait,” you complained, trying to twist back around to stop him. Sylvain wasn’t deterred. He was incredibly efficient in getting it undone, likely from experience. 

“Girl’s clothes are too restrictive, that’s probably why you’re having problems breathing,” Sylvain told you in a very matter-of-fact tone. Even with your struggling, he had the bodice peeled down in basically no time. The rest of the dress followed suit, pooling at your feet. “Heh. If I left marks on you like this, you’d be mad, but you’re fine when your dress does it,” he said, trailing a finger down one of the lines imprinted into your skin by the dress. You shivered involuntarily. 

“It’s not the sa-wait, don’t—” Sylvain ignored your objection, undoing the hooks on your bustier with the same easy efficiency. 

“It can’t be comfortable,” he argued, turning you back towards him. Since he’d already taken your panties, the bustier you clutched to your chest was basically all that you had left to keep yourself covered. “Let me see,” Sylvain demanded, grabbing the front of the bustier to pull it away from you. “I’m not going to tease you, I just want to see what my cute little sister’s been hiding under all those pretty dresses.” 

“No, please,” you begged, holding fast onto the garment. But Sylvain won, of course, casting it aside. He grabbed your wrists when you tried to cover yourself, his fingers overlapping. Inescapable. 

Directly level with your breasts, Sylvain could see exactly how far down your embarrassed flush delved. He could see the way your nipples tightened in response to the temperature difference, and the mark he’d left on your neck, and the way your chest heaved as you fought for air, and the imprinted lines left by your clothes. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to escape the weight of his eyes as they devoured you. 

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Sylvain said, dragging you a little closer. “I mean it. You’re beautiful.” You could hear the smile in his voice, even with your eyes closed, the praise doing very little to make you feel better. “Aw, that made you blush more. You know, sometimes the whole innocent thing can be a turn off, but it’s part of what I love about you.” 

That word made your eyes open in shock, and probably dread. 

“What?” Sylvain asked, his head tilting with perfectly knowing innocence. “Isn’t it natural for a brother to love his sister?”

You opened your mouth, and then closed it. Your arms twitched in an attempt to hide your body from him, and then your shoulders curled when you couldn’t. There was no sense to be made in his expression, or understanding of his words. It was just confusion, and disgust, and fear, and the dark, sinking sense that made your thighs clench even tighter. Sylvain watched your reaction for a moment before scooting back, dragging you down against him. 

“Hey, wha—” 

“No, just trust me,” Sylvain said, pulling more forcefully.

You collapsed against him, half kneeling on the bed and half leaning on him for support. It was awkward, but Sylvain didn’t really seem to care as his lips closed around one of your nipples. An actual cry left your mouth, almost a shout of surprise. And then the sensation struck, even more intense than the feeling of him sucking the bruise onto your neck. Unable to handle the new pleasure, your back arched, trying to get away. Sylvain made a noise in his throat, forcefully pulling you back into place and rewarding your escape attempt with the sharp threat of teeth. 

Whimpering and shaking, you didn’t know what to do other than accept it, your hands holding fast to his shoulders for support. You wanted to press your thighs together and relieve some of the needy ache, but that would upset your already precarious balance. It was torturous, both the way his teeth played with your nipple and the way it stoked your desire. Eventually, Sylvain pulled away with a slick sound, leaving your nipple painfully stiff and red. 

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” he asked, his voice low and soft, his eyes fixed intently on yours from below. Warm brown had become dangerously dark in the low light, framed by those thick lashes. His hand snuck down between your legs, trailing over the top of your garters before the fingers dragged up. You trembled, your breathing picking up further. 

“Sylvain, I-I…” You wanted to tell him to stop, to let you go, but it was pointless. This was the culmination of something you had known all along, something you had known for a while now. This was going to happen no matter what you did, an inevitability. These interactions were all, in some twisted way, a game. Just not the kind you thought, and not the kind you had a chance of winning. 

“Come on, don’t you love your big brother?” Sylvain asked, his breath brushing against your breast as he moved to your other nipple. Higher still, his fingers traced across your slit, teasing the sensitive flesh as you squirmed and whined. He made an amused sound at that, pushing past your outer lips to find your clit. Even the slight pressure made you twitch, your hands tightening on his shoulders. “You can admit it,” he continued to tease, so unconcerned with the catastrophic build of emotions you were being overwhelmed by. “There’s nothing wrong with loving your family. Believe me, it could be worse.” 

You whimpered, shaking your head in rejection. But you couldn’t ignore him. If you thought the pleasure was intense when he rubbed your clit through the fabric of your panties, it was nothing compared to this. And then he took your nipple into his mouth, forgoing the pretense of anything other than the mean biting and harsh sucking that had you tossing your head back, unable to stifle your moans. 

He wasn’t taking his time and trying to build you up, he was tossing you directly into the mindless daze of passion. Sylvain’s calloused fingers added an extra edge of friction, the direct contact borderline excessive. You cried out when he bit down, your hips rocking against his hand in an attempt to grind against his fingers. Even when you focused on the motion, you couldn’t stop your body from moving, no more than you make your hands stop shaking. Just like earlier, the dark, insidious ball of tension was forming, your pussy squeezing around nothing.

“You’re still too shy to say it, huh?” Sylvain asked, his breath ghosting over your painfully sensitive nipple. “I guess it is a little embarrassing that you’d be so desperate for your big brother. I’m barely doing anything and you’re this worked up.”

“You’re not… not my…”  

Sylvain didn’t argue, he just added more pressure against your clit, wrapping his hot mouth around your nipple. The scrape of his teeth was no longer a threat, but provocation. Dark pleasure shot down to your core with each bite, urging you to madness. You gasped and mewled, lurching against him at the sudden onslaught. You couldn’t help it. Shaking, needy. Desperate. Everything within you ached for release. Breathing had become difficult, it was any wonder you hadn’t either fallen or simply passed out. 

It would be nice to say you didn’t know any better, but you did. It just didn’t seem as important as getting off, as embracing the hot rush as you came, your clit pulsing against his fingers and hips jerking in some crude beat, your heart jumping within your chest as you pushed it forward, begging him to use his teeth, to suck harder. And it was good. Better than good, overwhelmingly wonderful, a cascade of raw, perfect sensation. For that little moment of pure insanity, you were convinced you did love Sylvain, filled with pleasure and affection. 

But then that thought hiccuped, and you gasped, trying to get away as the moment of perfection faded and your body rejected any more. Sylvain let you go, his wet lips stretching into a smile as he looked up at you. 

“You should thank your big brother for letting you come,” he said.

Panting and hot, it took a moment for your brain to catch up with what just happened. What you had done. You made a noise in the back of your throat, hiding your face behind your hand as the shame set in.

“Heh, or not,” he said dryly. That was basically the only warning you got before he grabbed you, pulling you into his lap. It was awkward, not helped by the way you constantly squirmed, muttering a string of ignored objections. Sylvain caught your ankle with his own, your other leg on the bed, leaving your legs wide open. You tried to lean away, but Sylvain pulled you against his chest. 

“What’re-” 

“I want to see your face, you’re so expressive,” Sylvain said, his fingers making their way back between your legs to tease around your entrance. “You know, it’s like getting a show before the main course… it’s the least you can do to pay me back for being so patient with you.” 

“Stop,” you said, unsure if you should have been more concerned with your face or your nudity. Being so close to Sylvain, being able to smell him, to feel his body heat, had quickly become overwhelming. And now that your skin was flushed, sensitive and shiny with sweat, the fabric of his clothes was abrasively stimulating. 

“Stop… what?”

“You know-ah—” You cut off with a high-pitched, panicked moan. Sylvain happily watched the way your eyes opened wide with surprise as he pushed two fingers into you, you didn’t think to look away as he drove his fingers as deep as he could. Your pussy immediately clamped down hard around the intrusion. He laughed fondly, you could almost believe the sound was one of adoration. 

“Wow, you’re really wet,” Sylvain said. “Listen to this.” He pulled his fingers out slowly, working against the way your inner walls attempted to pull him deeper, only thrusting back in at the last moment with an undeniably filthy squish. Letting out a helpless little noise, you twitched against him like a fly in a spider’s web, well and truly caught. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you want to get fucked by your brother.”

“Don’t… be mean,” you begged, clinging to the front of his shirt.

“What? I’m not being mean,” Sylvain said. A moment later, he hummed thoughtfully. “I could be, if that’s what you want. We both know how much you like it.”  

“I don’t!”

“I guess it’s just coincidental that you got tighter just now, huh?” 

You didn’t know if that was true, but it hadn’t been intentional. Sylvain was easily turning your body against you, your pussy sucking on his fingers as they pulled out despite every rational part of you that knew it was wrong.

“What do you think would be worse—if I didn’t let you come again for the rest of the night-” Slowly now, he worked his fingers back in, curling and scissoring them in a way that made you moan despite yourself, your free leg kicking pathetically. “Or if I tried to figure out how many times I can make you come before tomorrow morning.” His fingers thrust in harder, faster, filthily dragging across your inner walls. You jerked against him in a desperate spasm, your eyes squeezing shut. 

Was he asking you? You couldn’t answer that, you weren’t even sure you understood the question. 

“You would think,” Sylvain continued, “that it’s better to have too many than not enough, right? Especially for a spoiled brat like you.” His fingers hadn’t stilled, already picking up pace, eagerly feeding your desire for more, building you back up. “But I’ve heard that it can be really uncomfortable.” Sylvain’s fingers twisted within you, curling up against a spot that made you shake, whimpering and gasping. “I guess we could try them both, you can tell me which one is worse.” 

“You ca-can’t,” you said breathlessly, your lower lip wobbling. You weren’t even sure what you were talking about, far more conflicted by the fact that you were going to come again than by the idea of whatever he was proposing. But it was mean, even if you didn’t understand.   

“Sure I can,” Sylvain said. “It’s not like you can stop me.”

“Syl-l-vain…” 

“Hey, I was just kidding,” he told you. “I’ve already got plans for tonight. Since it’s your first time, it should be special.”  

At this point, he was outright fucking you with his fingers, keeping you from trying to squirm away from his hand by holding you against his chest. Each thrust was unbearably sloppy sounding, the clap of skin on skin as lewd as the wet squish. The way his palm ground against your clit only added to the growing tension, the inescapable blaze of pleasure. Since you were trapped in place, there was nothing you could do to stop him from getting rougher. 

“It’s too-too much,” you said, unable to escape the assault no matter how you twisted. It just got worse when you moved, when you could feel how hard he was going.  

“Nah, you’re fine,” Sylvain said, his chest rumbling against you. As if to prove that, he slowed for a moment, adding in a third finger. Your pussy accepted it eagerly, but you whined, unable to do anything other than cling to him as you adjusted to the added stretch. “You’ll take whatever your big brother gives you, right?” His words were vile, but they drifted up into your head and your inner walls squeezed his fingers as they thrust and twisted and curled. Too rough, but it didn’t matter,

A moan hiccuped out of you, a sound you couldn’t recall having made ever in your life. Sylvain groaned. 

“That good, huh?” Sylvain asked indulgently. You buried your face against his neck, holding onto him tight for fear of falling apart. 

“I’m… I-I…” 

“You… What?” Sylvain teased. “You’re going to come, aren’t you? I can feel how hard you’re squeezing me, how wet you are…. Yeah, go on. Come all over your big brother’s hand.”

And you did. Whimpering and holding onto him as if your life depended on it, recklessly tossed over the edge by his relentless fingers. The pleasure buzzed through you in a feverish frenzy, different than before. Lower, intense. Your shaking stopped as your body seized. Every breath you took smelled like Sylvain, his body firm and hot against yours. And you knew you were mumbling his name, begging him to keep going, to work you through it. Sylvain was either laughing or groaning and you didn’t care, it just sweetened the high. 

When you reached down to stop him, he pulled his fingers out, trailing them up to swipe across your clit. That made you whimper, hips twitching. Sylvain did it again, chuckling at your attempt to pull away. 

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he asked. 

You hid your face against his chest instead. Sweaty and ashamed and disgusted, you didn’t want to be there anymore. Or anywhere, really. 

Sylvain grabbed your chin to make you look at him, his fingers smearing evidence of your arousal across your skin. “If you’re too embarrassed to say it, I’ll accept a kiss instead.” 

You looked from his bright eyes to his flushed lips, considering your options. Of the two, kissing would probably be less humiliating. Slightly. 

You nodded and he released your chin, leaving you to take the initiative. Nervously, not meeting his eyes, you ducked forward, your fingertips grazing his cheek. You meant for it to be quick and chaste, but Sylvain had other plans. He caught you, his fingers digging into your hair to tilt your head and keep you there as he licked your lips apart. He kissed you wetly, almost like he was trying to devour you, to claim you. It didn’t matter that you weren’t meeting it, he seemed satisfied enough to take. 

When you whimpered, you felt his hips push upward, the hard press of his erection searing through the layer of clothes. Your whimper became a whine and he groaned, his hands groping your chest, your waist, grinding you against his lap. 

At the point you worried you would pass out from the lack of air, Sylvain pulled back, muttering something like “Hold onto me,” directly against your lips. Breathless and confused, you didn’t get what he meant until you were on your back, Sylvain having rolled above you. The shift didn’t seem to faze him, his lips finding yours again. It was a short kiss, distracted. 

“Since it’s your first time,” Sylvain said, pulling back to cast his jacket onto the floor. The entire front of his shirt was wrinkled by your hands, bearing a wet spot on his shoulder that was either drool or tears. “I’d like to do things traditionally, you know?” The belt came next, the leather tongue pulled free and discarded noisily. He was undressing. 

You squirmed, covering your chest. With the way he was straddling you, it was impossible to get away, but you averted your eyes. 

“You’re not going to watch? Usually girls can’t wait to get to this part,” Sylvain said, “Or… oh, I get it, you’re too embarrassed. It’s not that weird, you know. We are family.” His shirt dropped, you could see the pale expanse of his torso out of the corner of your eye. And you couldn’t help it; you looked. 

Sylvain’s strength was as aesthetically intimidating as it was physically intimidating, and he was every bit as attractive as you might have feared for it. He knew how appealing he was too, looking down at you with that wolfish grin as he undid the button on his pants. Taking them off gave you a moment that you could have gotten away, but you didn’t. You didn’t even think about it. 

There was no denying that Sylvain was one of the most handsome men you’d ever met. You didn’t think anyone could top the perfectly etched lines of muscle, his skin marked here and there with pale scars. Perfect arms to perfect abs to a trail of dark hair that, despite yourself, drew your eyes lower. 

Something in your brain clicked off at the sight of his cock. You weren’t sure if you had been in denial or simply not thought that far ahead, but your pussy squeezed tightly around nothing and you understood what he meant by ‘first time’. Sylvain basked beneath your attention, his hand dropping to casually stroke himself, the flushed red head bobbing with the motion.  

“When you look at me like that, I have a hard time believing you’re as innocent as you pretend to be.” 

“You’re not going to… We’re not… I’ve never b-been with… anyone.”

“That’s pretty obvious.” 

“I have to-to wai—” You squealed when he grabbed your ankle, pulling the leg straight until you fell into a splay in front of him. Sylvain’s eyes fixed hungrily between your legs, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his bottom lip as he continued to stroke his cock. You twitched, trying to pull back, your hands dropping to cover yourself. That made his attention shift up to your face. 

“I can’t let any other guy have you first,” Sylvain said. “I mean, you’re my little sister.” You whined in distress, trying to wiggle away, but he grabbed your other ankle, sliding between your legs. “Don’t act like you don’t want this as bad as I do.” Two of his fingers slipped into your pussy, the whine you let out easily proving his point. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” 

Sylvain pulled away, leaning down to readjust your torso. You exhaled harshly, shaking as uncertainty returned in full force. This was profane. Disturbingly wrong.

“Don’t cover yourself up, okay?” Sylvain told you, prying your arms away from covering your chest and pinning them to the bed. “Otherwise… I dunno, I’ll leave your nipples so sore you won’t even be able to wear a shirt for a few days, let alone one of those cute dresses.” He was grinning like it was a joke. Just like all of this was a joke. “Then again, you’d probably like that.”

Maybe you answered, maybe you didn’t, Sylvain didn’t seem to care as he adjusted your position, his attention focused on lining himself up. It took a few tries before the blunt tip of his cock caught on your hole, just testing the muscles there before the head popped in. A little sound left your mouth, like you were surprised by the feeling. Part of you marveled at it, in utter disbelief that this was real. That this could possibly happen, that things would descend so far that you would land here. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Sylvain hissed, slowly rolling his hips to ease you into it. You barely recognized his voice. Maybe because of how honest he sounded, the words mean and forceful. He exhaled loudly, pushing the backs of your thighs as he sat up. Your knees were almost touching your chest, and he loomed above you. Without the cover of his body, you were fully exposed to his hungry gaze, and Sylvain did nothing to disguise the ravenous lust in his eyes. Your arms twitched, desperate to cover your chest or hide your face. 

“Sylvain?” You meant to be asking for comfort or help or for him to stop or for this to all be revealed as some massive joke played on you, you wanted to beg him to make this make sense. But your voice sounded too high, too breathy. It sounded like a plea for more. 

Sylvain groaned as he selfishly thrust all the way in, pulling your hips down at the same time. The unexpected violence hurt, you could feel how deep he was going, how your pussy had to stretch around him. But your body, the traitorous thing that it was, just took it. With how wet he’d made you, how ready you were in the first place, your doubt now didn’t matter. Even the pain wasn’t enough for you to ignore the indescribably hot weight. His cock filled you entirely, reaching places his fingers hadn’t. 

“Look how well you take your big brother’s cock,” Sylvain said, taking your legs to put them on his shoulders instead. He rolled his hips and your mouth fell open with a moan, your body straining beneath him. Deep. He was incomprehensibly deep. “What does it feel like?” Sylvain punctuated the question with a thrust. Too hard, doing nothing to ease you into it now. Your objection sounded like a moan though, and then again when he didn’t stop. The slap of skin was painfully crude, although not as bad as the desperate cries you couldn’t keep down. Your fingers twisted into the sheets to keep your arms from instinctively covering your tits as they bounced with the harsh rhythm he was keeping.  

“Too… too hard,” you told him, staring at his perfect chest because you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Does it hurt?” Sylvain asked, twisting your hips back and forth. It made his cock grind against your g-spot and you whimpered, your back arching like a bridge between him and the bed.

“It—ah…”

“Does it feel good?” He did again. You couldn’t think, all you could focus on was that growing tension within you, the heat, the delicious build of pleasure. Now that you knew what it was, chasing it was that much easier, some perverted seal broken by his touch.  

“Mmm…” 

“Yeah, I’m making you feel good,” Sylvain said, managing to sound cocky even while breathless and mercilessly fucking you. “Say it.”

“You make me feel…feel really… good.” 

“Say how good it feels to get fucked by your brother.” 

You squinted up at him, that disgusted panic returning. Even now, flushed with exertion and in a half-mad frenzied rut, Sylvain looked amused by your distress, eagerly waiting to see what you’d do. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shook your head. “I-I-I can’t.” 

Sylvain grunted. His hand left your hip to draw downwards, and you hoped he was going to touch your clit. Instead, he pressed his palm down flat against your pelvis, right above where you could feel the weight of him entering you. The added pressure made you spasm, your eyes popping open to meet his mirthful gaze. “You’re so easy,” Sylvain told you, like it was funny. “Don’t you want to come?” 

Your body kept twitching, your hips pathetically trying to meet his. It was filthy and shameful, but you did. You desperately did. “Please,” you begged. 

“Sure. All you’ve gotta do is say it,” Sylvain said, adding a little more pressure, making your cunt squeeze him even tighter. That made it easier for him to hit your g-spot, your legs mindlessly kicking against him every time, your mind frazzled past decency. “Come on, you’re leaking all over me. I know how bad you want it.”

You whined, shame and need warring within you. A losing battle from the start. “It feels…so good,” you gasped out, your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers clawing at his sheets to keep from covering your face. “To get-to get… fucked by my… my brother.” 

Sylvain moaned, his other hand digging bruises into your thigh. You whimpered, back arching desperately. “What a disgusting sister I got stuck with,” he got out breathlessly. 

“Please,” you begged, ignoring the humiliation in your shameless chase of satisfaction. 

“Say that you wanna come on your brother’s cock,” Sylvain demanded, his words losing coherency as fast as you were. It occurred to you, somewhere in the very back where you had abandoned your sanity, that this was making him feel good too. The idea that you gave him pleasure made you whimper, peeking up at his expression with the submissive supplication of prey. 

“I wanna… wanna come… on my… my…” A particularly hard thrust cut you off, an overwhelming starburst of raw sensation shaking through you. Violent pleasure. Sylvain muttered encouragement, his big hand pressing down a little harder. He thrust a little harder, a little deeper, and you could have sworn you felt it against his palm as well. “I wanna come on my brother’s cock, please,” you begged, nearly incoherent. 

“Yeah, I know,” Sylvain told you, grabbing your hips again to change the angle until you were wailing, your cunt clamping like a vice around him. You could feel yourself approaching that precipice, so desperate for release. A few more hard thrusts, his cock driving hypnotically deep into your dripping pussy each time, deep enough you felt like you could feel him poking his own hand, and you were gone. The paroxysm of pleasure following that wet snap had your body straining and mouth helplessly agape with a silent cry, your body completely malleable for him to use, helpless to do anything other than feel.

“Fuck, that was hot…” Sylvain muttered as you came down, slowing down and pulling out of you with a terribly slick sound. The loss made your pussy clamp down around nothing. Mourning the loss, you couldn’t help but look at his cock. Flushed and hard and glossy. It was difficult to believe it had fit inside of you. “I guess now I know how to make you do what I say.” 

You blinked up at him, your eyebrows arching inwards uncertainly, the emotion caught in a strange haze of heat. Insecurity finally found a place in your empty mind and you tried to pull away, covering your chest. 

“What did I say?” Sylvain asked, slapping your hands away and pinching your abused nipples. You whined, your body unintentionally arching into the pain. He grabbed your thighs instead, pushing back until you were practically bent in half, his body curling over yours so he could set your legs around his waist.

“What are you…”

“Hold onto me,” Sylvain demanded. He hauled you up so you could throw your arms around his neck, wrapping his own beneath you like a hug. 

With your faces so close, you could see how blown his pupils were. Any traces of Sylvain’s playful mask were wiped from his face, replaced by something feral and dark. One of his arms pulled back to align his cock with your entrance again. Starved eyes watched your expression as he slowly sank back into you, right to the hilt. You moaned breathlessly.

“Say it again,” Sylvain told you, his voice low and intense. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to figure out what he meant, what he wanted. Sylvain punished you with a hard thrust, resting more of his weight onto you, enveloping your body with the suffocating embrace. You could only cling tighter to him, entirely at his mercy. “How good it feels,” Sylvain prompted you, his voice unnervingly flat for how breathless it was. “Tell me.” 

You shuddered, a reaction he must have felt considering he was all but laying on top of you. “It… it feelss-” you broke off with a moan as Sylvain’s hips rolled. The position changed the angle, new pleasure tempting you, curling up in your core. “Goddess, it feels so-so good… Sylvain.” 

“Come on,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You didn’t think it was physically possible to be any closer with a human being, even your cheeks were pressed together. Regardless of the sweat or the heat, Sylvain held you flush against him as he worked back up to the rough pace of before, his cock impossibly deep within you. So heavy, so full, your oversensitized pussy squeezing him with the same fervor you had in holding onto his shoulders. “You know what I want.”

Asking you to think while your brain was so overcome with lust and need was cruel of him, trying to recall anything would have been difficult for you in that moment. But your silence earned you a collection of hard, mean thrusts that made you really wail. “It feels… so good,” you said loudly in a desperate attempt to make him stop being so rough, the words stuttering with each hard thrust. “So good to-to get… get fucked by… by my brother.” 

Crushed against his chest, you could feel Sylvain groan, feel the way his hips stuttered. “You’re really… really disgusting, you know that?” he asked with a cruel kind of affection, holding onto you tighter and ignoring the way you whined. 

Doing what he wanted hadn’t made him slow down. The sound of skin slapping and the bed creaking filled the room. Sylvain fucked you without any regard given to the theater or how you were responding, ignoring the way your body unintentionally jolted and twitched with every thrust. It sounded mean, sloppy. And yet you held onto him with such ferocity that your arms and thighs quaked, moaning as he mouthed at your jaw, and then to your neck, leaving kisses and bites across whatever flesh he could reach. 

You didn’t realize you were going to come again until you were already tensing up, squeezing Sylvain with something like panic, trembling and weak as pleasure shuddered through you. He cursed, his arms flexing around you so you couldn’t move as his thrusts became uneven. You felt every noise Sylvain made—every groan, every grunt, every growl—right in your core, making your pussy weakly flutter around him despite how sore the muscles had become, milking him through his orgasm. Breathing hard, his heart racing, Sylvain twitched inside of you, his cock buried deep into your cunt save for a few sharp, shallow thrusts before he stilled entirely.

Then it was just breathing, heat. You could feel that the tension had gone out of Sylvain, his hold on you loosened. Enough, at least, that he could look into your eyes as you sluggishly blinked up at him.

“How are we feeling, gorgeous?” he asked, winded and exhilarated, his red cheeks a match for your own. 

You mumbled something incoherent, even to your own ears. 

“Yeah?” Sylvain asked indulgently. “You know… you can let go, if you want. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I’m gonna need a minute before I can do that again.” 

Blinking slowly, you released him, dropping onto the bed. Sylvain rolled onto his side, pulling out of you. Like an unstopped bottle, a mixture of your wet arousal and his cum spilled out of your pussy, slicking your inner thighs and staining the sheets with evidence of your depravity. That was very, incredibly, horribly wrong, but your disgust fizzled out before amounting to anything, your brain buzzing on to abstract thoughts. A song they played earlier that night at the ball, the fire’s cheerful crackling, the wind tapping on the window like an unwanted guest. Friends you hadn’t written in too long, a party in Fhirdiad your mother had promised to take you to, the stray cat that hung around the grounds. Anything that wasn’t this, that wasn’t tainted by the icy sickness of shame.

“Are you crying?” Sylvain asked. 

Were you?  

���Come here,” Sylvain said with a frown, dragging you to lay against him. Both of you were sweaty and filthy, and the hand he used to caress your face smelled like sex, but he clearly didn’t care. His expression was pinched with concern, his eyes warm. “Don’t get all worked up about this, okay? It’s not like you can change it now.” 

Cold dread wrung your heart in a vice, reality threatening to tumble through. You hid your face against Sylvain’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut to try and shut it all out. No, you couldn’t change it. Even if you pretended, even if you feigned ignorance, even if you left this cold, terrible place, you couldn’t take it back. 

Sylvain wrapped his arm around you, his fingers trailing lightly across your spine. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice rumbling against you. “This was going to happen at some time, you’re lucky your first time was with a guy who wanted to make it special.” 

You sniffed, wishing you could shut his voice out. 

“I mean it,” Sylvain told you, pulling your face up to look at him. “One day, you’re going to be unhappily married to some jerk who doesn’t care about anything other than your mother’s money and you’ll come crawling back into my bed, begging your big brother to take care of you.” A smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing yours. “But don’t worry, I will. Family should always come first.”

[redrobin-detective]

Guys I'm so emotional thinking of Skull throughout the years.

Skull, who refused to die peacefully and almost died a second time because he finally found something worth dying for. Only to come back and get the chance to live the life he never got.

Imagine Skull as a proper member of Lockwood and Co, out of his jar and free to help solve mysteries and take down dangerous visitors. It's exhilarating and he feels so powerful with his colleagues side by side with him. He never stop giving the team shit and being overall kind of a grouch but no human or ghost ever comes close to them when their overprotective type three is around.

Skull is powerful enough that he's able to stick around even when other Visitors are slipping back to the Other Side. He clings with everything he's got to this life he's building. As the Problem dies down, new challenges arise: dating and marriages and babies. He officiates the Locklyle wedding to the confusion of most of the guests. Grumbles but is also secretly relieved he's not invited on the honeymoon. Makes silly faces at newborn babies from a ghost touch safe distance. He watches the various children like a hawk and tells wild made up stories when the parents aren't listening. He swears up and down he just got some ectoplasm in his eye when a child shows off a school made family tree with good ole Uncle Skully tucked into the corner.

Lockwood's bad shoulder gives him trouble, George has high blood pressure and Lucy finds she can't read a damn thing without glasses. They're well into middle age, greying, wrinkled and Skull loves them just the same. He's forever stuck in his mid-teens but he's fought beside and grown up with this amazing, stupid little group. Lucy asks him once if he ever thought about moving on and Skull truthfully tells her that he can't imagine doing so without them. He finds hobbies: he takes up painting, learns to drive, even helps George write a book detailing Visitors and the Other Side. He gives baking a go but things tend to go wrong when you can't taste what you're making.

It does get harder as they age quicker and Skull realizes how limited time is. One by one they go, peaceful and easy and buried with the highest honors as a nation mourns its heroes. He waits to see if any of them will come back, maybe spend a few decades causing mischief with him but they don't. They led full, fulfilling lives, unlike him, they had no reason to stick around. Lucy is the last, even as her mind is going her ears are still sharp as ever. He whispers to her she needs to eat, to take her medicines. She looks around blearily, asking who's talking to her.

He couldn't bear to see her when she passes. He's kept her stupid, stubborn, reckless ass safe for years but he can't save her from this. Nor would she want him to. He waits on the Other Side for her, hoping for even just a glimpses. Skull catches sight of her walking into the distance, she looks back at him and beckons him forward. He wasn't ready 200 years ago but now that he's lived a life as an agent, a fun uncle, an artist, a scholar and Lucy Carlyle-Lockwood's best mate. For the first time ever, he's able to take her hand and walk towards whatever lies in store for them.

The kids bury their mum with the now empty skull knowing that, their souls are together.

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Undying Love 💍 (Part 2 - In-Laws)

Time for Part 2! This part gets super angsty at the end, so get ready!

Undying Love - Part 2: In-Laws - Ominis Gaunt x Female MC

Summary: Phase 1 of the trio's plan to fake Ominis's death is working so far, Sebastian and MC playing their role as a couple well, until a family member becomes suspicious.

2.4k words - it's a long one sorry!

Tagging @myrachondria cause you wanted an update! 💕

Warnings: No smut in this part, but there is some suggestive wordings and mentions of arousal. Also, The Gaunts are present.

Smut/NSFW/18+!! Part 1 contains smut! Characters are aged up and out of school. Do not read if you're under 18!!

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5!

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MC woke to the feeling of her husband stroking her cheek. It was a comforting feeling, and she savored it, wishing they didn’t have to get out of bed. “Darling, you need to wake up, Sebastian will be here soon.” Ominis’s voice was soft and gentle. MC fulfilled his request and got herself up, planting a long, sweet kiss on his lips before heading to the bathroom to get herself washed up and dressed. 

When MC finally entered the living room, she found Sebastian already there, sitting across from Ominis, who was on the couch. The boys had a look of worry on their faces, and it broke her heart knowing that she was the cause of their worry. While both Ominis and Sebastian were purebloods, she was not, therefore she was the one most in danger if this plan went wrong. The group sat together discussing their plan once more. After some time they gathered themselves up to leave, MC removing her wedding rings and placing them on the table.

Their carriage pulled up to a large, dark mansion surrounded by lush dark green trees. MC hadn’t even stepped foot inside yet and could feel a negative energy around the home. Ominis was across from her, and Sebastian was next to her, their illusion of being a couple officially having started. 

The three of them had discussed at length what this arrangement would entail. Ominis had set several boundaries - Sebastian could hold MC’s hand, hug her, call her pet names, kiss her on the cheek or forehead, and touch her in any way necessary to make their story believable, (outside of just straight up shoving his hands in her underwear). But Sebastian could not, under any circumstances, kiss MC on the lips. MC and Sebastian had a brief romantic history back in 5th year, at the same time Ominis and Sebastian’s friendship went through a rough patch. While all had been resolved and forgiven at this point, Ominis’s trust in Sebastian never returned to what it once was. Ominis reminded Sebastian once again of what he was and wasn’t allowed to do to MC. 

“Oh, and Sebastian, please don’t stare at my wife’s breasts! I’m well aware she has nice ones, but don’t even think about it!”

“I won’t Ominis! I’ll be respectful. Isn’t that right, darling?” Sebastian took MC’s hand as he opened the carriage door, leading her out. Ominis exited last, but led the way. The family house elves had already shown up to retrieve their belongings.

MC squeezed Sebastian’s hand as they walked, the fear setting in. He squeezed back in an attempt to reassure her. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest as they entered the enormous mansion. Upon looking around, it seemed like everything in the house had a dark green and black color palette to it. It was actually quite beautiful, all things considered. Hand in hand, Sebastian and MC followed Ominis to one of the several living rooms the place had, where his parents were reading. 

The Gaunts greeted Ominis well enough, likely putting on a show for their son’s guests. Ominis had informed her that his family was obsessed with their public perception, eager to seem like wonderful people, not the monsters they actually were. His father was tall and stocky, with dark brown hair and eyes and his mother was petite and thin with blonde hair and blue eyes like Ominis. “Mother, Father, you remember Sebastian of course.” Ominis turned his parents’ attention toward them. “And this is his girlfriend, MC.” MC held out her hand, praying that it wasn’t noticeable how hard it was shaking. She shook both of their hands, and his mother commented on how beautiful MC was. MC was the only one who caught the small smile that formed on Ominis’s face for half a second before his mother began her questioning: How long had her and Sebastian been together? (Since Christmas, the day her and Ominis got engaged), what was her house? (Slytherin - not actually a lie, this earned her a nod from both parents) and of course, what her blood status was? 

“Pure blood.” She replied nonchalantly on the outside, screaming on the inside. The three of them had prepped for this moment, but no amount of prep could have prepared her for the utter fear she felt being interrogated by her in-laws. Ominis’s mother was about to inquire further when another member of the family appeared in the doorway. “Ah, Marvolo, we have guests! You remember Sebastian, right? And this is Sebastian’s girlfriend, MC!” Mrs. Gaunt exclaimed.

Marvolo - Ominis’s older brother by several years. She had heard horrible things about him. He took great joy in physically hurting his younger, disabled brother when they were kids. MC couldn’t decide if she hated him or his parents more. He was tall and thin, and looked as if he were just an evil, inverted version of Ominis. Instead of blond hair and blue eyes, he had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, but he still shared many of the same facial features as Ominis. He was also less put together than Ominis, his messy hair a contrast to Ominis’s combed back, maintained hair. “Pleasure to meet you!” MC greeted, realizing that he was staring her down. He simply looked her over, his face expressionless, before turning and leaving. 

“Well, off with the lot of you! Get yourselves situated. Ominis will show you to his room. One of the elves will fetch you for dinner!” Mr Gaunt exclaimed as he brought his attention back to the book he had been reading.

----

At dinner, MC sat in between Sebastian and Ominis, while the other three members of the family sat across from them. MC wasn’t questioned any further about her fake blood status, the conversation instead turning to Sebastian and what his plans were for the future. At one point, while Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt were in deep conversation with Sebastian, Ominis’s hand bumped MC’s while he was reaching for a napkin on the table. MC handed him the napkin and smiled, taking a moment to gaze at her perfect husband. Her gaze must have lingered longer than it should have, because when she turned her head forward, Marvolo’s eyes were locked on her. He was expressionless once again, but she saw his eyes squint ever so slightly as he studied her. Feeling uneasy, she leaned in towards Sebastian, giving his hand a squeeze and giggling in his ear. 

When it was time for bed, the three of them headed to Ominis’s room, locking the door and placing a silencing charm on it. MC brought up to Ominis the weird stares she had received from his brother, but Ominis brushed it off. “It’s just Marvolo being Marvolo, but let’s limit the staring, just in case.”

The trio climbed into Ominis’s bed, the bed being big enough that the three of them could fit comfortably. MC figured she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but as soon as she felt Ominis’s arms around her, she nuzzled into him and dozed off immediately. 

----

The next day, the trio spent their afternoon in one of the small libraries located in the home. MC and Sebastian were on the couch, and Ominis was in one of the chairs across from them. They were sitting in peaceful silence when someone approached the library and entered. It was Marvolo, walking in and sitting down in the chair directly across from the couch and right next to Ominis. Sebastian gave him a friendly nod and a smile, but MC refused to look up from her book, fed up with his unsettling glares at her. 

“Is that you, Marvolo?” Ominis asked, breaking his concentration on the dictation spell he had been using to read. “Mhmmm.” Marvolo replied, his eyes once again glued to MC. She was still refusing to look up at him, but she could feel his eyes on her. She was starting to wonder if he could speak at all considering he hadn’t uttered a word the entire time they had been here so far. Almost as if he could read her mind, Marvolo finally spoke.

“Are you two dating?” He asked, eyes now locked on Sebastian. Sebastian, ever so confident and afraid of almost nothing, replied instantly. “Oh yes!” He chuckled. “Feisty little thing, this one! But I adore her!” Sebastian pulled MC in close, planting a kiss on the side of her head, which made MC finally look up. For once, Marvolo wasn’t glaring at her, but he did have a wicked smile on his face as he continued to stare at Sebastian.

“I don’t believe you. I think she’s fucking my brother.” His eyes switched over to MC, his smile getting even wider. 

A sense of total panic washed over the trio, none of them being able to properly react. But somehow, the combination of the panic and her being fed up with Marvolo’s bullshit gave MC confidence, as she looked Marvolo in the eyes and spoke. 

“Ominis is one of my best friends and I love him dearly, but he couldn’t handle me.” she smirked. “This one can barely handle me!” she giggled as she rested her elbow on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Oh, you!” Sebastian shouted as he grabbed MC and pulled her in, nuzzling into her neck as she giggled. 

“Prove it.” Marvolo’s voice rang above MC’s giggles. Sebastian and MC broke away from each other. “What?” Sebstian asked with a chuckle, trying to hide his nervousness. “Prove it.” He repeated, a malicious tone to his voice. “Kiss her.” Sebastian and MC felt their hearts start racing, neither of them dared to look in Ominis’s direction. MC decided she had enough, hoping that maybe if she yelled at him, he’d bug off.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re not used to seeing a pretty girl here, since I imagine no girls come here for you, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to give you a free show so you can have something to wank off to later!” There was a bite in her voice, but this only brought on another smile from Marvolo. 

“Hmm what a shame. I wouldn’t think kissing your boyfriend would be so difficult, unless he’s not actually your boyfriend. I’m sure mother and father will be thrilled to hear Ominis is actually the one fucking the halfblooded little bitch running around our home.”

“Enough!” Ominis shouted. Sebastian and MC finally dared to look over at him, he was surprisingly calm, the only look on his face was that of annoyance. “I had to hear these two snogging plenty when we were still in school. I’d prefer not to hear them snogging in my own home as well.” 

“DO IT. Now.” Marvolo growled at Sebastian before turning his attention back towards Ominis. “Or I’ll be happy to have a little chat with our parents about why they should vet any of the vermin you bring into our home, you absolute disgrace to our family!” 

MC had heard enough and sighed before she grabbed Sebastian’s face and gave him a quick and gentle peck on his lips. “Happy?” she spat out. “Nope.” Marvolo sported another wicked smile. “Really kiss him.”. 

Her heart sank. She knew Ominis was already going to be upset, now things were only going to get worse. She remembered how they agreed to make it believable. She thought about the commitment she made to Ominis. That she would do anything for him. “I’m sorry, Ominis.” She thought to herself before she turned her body to face Sebastian, pulling him in for another kiss. 

Her kiss was full of passion, and it only took a second for Sebastian to return the same passion. His lips parted for her immediately, their tongues touching. MC had her hands in his hair, running her fingers through it as they kissed. Sebastian felt guilt wash over him, but that guilt was immediately overpowered by arousal at the taste of her lips. Sebastian let out a groan against them. Though their time together had been brief, Sebastian had really fallen for MC. When it ended, Sebastian made peace with it, knowing he was the one who ruined it. But there was no denying that kissing MC again made him feel something. Sebastian had his hands on MC’s waist when the kissing started, but he moved one of his hands down to her knee. His hand then began to trail up her thigh, hiking her skirt up with it. MC moaned in surprise at the feeling of his hand on her thigh, immediately regretting how audible her moan was. 

Sebastian removed his lips from MC’s to bring them down to her neck. MC whispered Sebastian’s name, confused about what was happening. On the one hand, she knew this was necessary. The more passionate this seemed, the less suspicious they seemed. While she knew that this wasn’t real, she didn’t actually hate it. She had also noticed the fervor in Sebastian’s kiss. Was he enjoying this too? Sebastian resumed kissing her lips, his hand halfway up her thigh as his fingers began to slip underneath her hiked up skirt. This was when MC snapped out of it, as feelings of arousal were starting to creep up on her. She gently pulled away from Sebastian’s lips. At this, he removed his hand from her thigh. 

They both looked at Ominis across from them, grateful he couldn’t see anything, but the sounds were enough. He sat expressionless, but was fuming inside. Marvolo on the other hand had the biggest smile on his face. “I stand corrected. You two make a lovely couple.” MC made the mistake of glancing down as Marvolo stood from his chair, an erection growing in his pants. MC shuddered as she looked away. “I must be off now.” he said with a wink as he left the room, the door closing behind him. 

The three of them sat in silence for several minutes, Ominis finally reacting as he began to hyperventilate. “Ominis…” MC whispered, her voice laced with guilt. The sound of MC’s voice broke him as he began to sob. MC felt her heart shatter at his tears, but she felt like she didn’t deserve to feel sad, knowing she shared some of the blame for his sobs. 

“Mate, we did what we had to do. You know that wasn’t real.” Sebastian said, refusing to look at Ominis. MC shot Sebastian a questioning look, unsure if he was being truthful when he said it wasn’t real. 

“I know.” Ominis choked out, his voice laced with anger. MC got off the couch and kneeled where Ominis was sitting, about to take his hand in hers when he jerked away from her. MC gasped at his reaction as he got up and stormed off, leaving MC and Sebastian behind.

----end of part 2----

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 3A, MATCH 3 OUT OF 4!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Giselle Lai:

Girlie has 3 different possible princes and one is the princess! Need I say more? I will anyway! She gets the Cinder nickname from her first love interest because she snuck out of home through the chimney to try and meet up with the princess. She falls into the lap of her second love interest the next day when eavesdropping on him from a tree, and then the princess steals her away for the afternoon. The princess literally says she won't get married if it means she'll never see Giselle again and they almost kiss. Girl is such a powerful Cinderella, she has 3 bad bitches to choose from!

This webtoon turns this fairytale entirely on its head. Giselle is actually a noblewoman - well, girl. She has a mother who cares about their reputation as Giselle's father is dead. Her two older sisters are trying to find husbands but seem to be nice, in a sisterly kind of way. But the reason she's a Cinderella candidate is because her mum forbids her to go to the circus. And, when Giselle tries to sneak out as the three of them are leaving for a ball, her mum locks her into her room. So, determined as she is, Giselle manages to climb out of the chimney and out into the city. She's covered in soot and forgets to take money, so she's unable to get in through the front of the tent. Instead, she has to sneak in and meets Ashe. He/They is part of the act and Giselle gets caught up in it. Since he doesn't know her name, Ashe begins calling her Cinder-girl. Also, Giselle was meant to meet the princess to go to the circus, but meets her later in the park, where it's very obvious that the princess is in love with Giselle. And who Giselle might be attracted to, as well! AND, there's also Lord Elliot, who's not actually Lord Elliot, but a guy posing as a dead guy, who may or may not want to marry Giselle when she comes of age or marry one of her sisters. Also, also! The butler looks away when Giselle sneaks in and out, enabling her to be able to "go to the ball", as it were. There's a lot going on and the comic is a lot of fun. And the art is amazing! I really recommend it.

Queen Cinderella Charming:

She's kind, she's funny, she learns to use a sword, and she's related to Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Red Riding Hood. She helps the protagonists any chance she gets and even hosts their mother and step-father's wedding. She never gives up and  never lets her fear stop her. Absolute queen (literally)

While she isn't hugely relevant in the story itself, she is always down to help out the protagonists where she can. When they need one of her slippers, she sneaks it into their bag without them noticing. She calls them family. She loves her daughter too, and is a badass mom.

When the main characters need her glass slipper for a spell, she snuggled it into their bag, and she has a daughter named Hope

I think she’s a minor character in the first book, but she’d really nice and stuff!

Because I LOVE HER!! also she has a daughter called Hope who got kidnapped by rumplestiltskin at one point but that is besides the point. She is a strong independent woman and we love those she was NOT about to sit around doing nothing and i love her for that

Vote Land of Stories Cinderella because she's the best!!!

hi uhm you are all legally obligated to vote for the land of stories cinderalla btw . please

Everyone vote for Queen Cinderella Charming!!! She deserves this!!!!!

CINDERELLA FROK TLOS. DO IT FOR ME

[noroi1000]

May I request something which is sort of a scenario as a part of the the recent mafia gojo fic since as it has arranged marriage if i were to be expanding this request it would also be an arranged marriage too so it would be better if connected to the mafia gojo oneshot. So basically the scenario could be in their wedding life when they didn't have kids and it's basically reader's ability to be playful and cheerful when she wants to which is a loveable traits of hers and here in this scenario reader n gojo r making fun of the people they hate in the mafia world while reading is dramatically impersonating them perfectly making both gojo n reader laugh when gojo guesses the right person who reader is impersonating which is just many of the reasons gojo gave up his playboy life because of falling deeply in love with her even though she might not reciprocate his love but certainly treats him well. This could be a scenario when they're on their luxurious honeymoon trip but again not an necessary

( Sorry if this wasn't clear as english is not my native language ) 

I don't love him, but I want to be with him 3

"Haha! And then – And then Gakuganji always makes silly faces!” He said laughing.

He suddenly grabbed his cheeks, pulling them down slightly, simulating that he had wrinkles.

And he also stretched his jaw forward to lisp and change his voice.

You laughed when you heard his stories about the people who attended their meetings.

This Gakuganji is an elder from another mafia.

He is like an antiquated tree, but the older he gets, the more he needs.

Especially when it comes to their contract with the Gojo family.

The old man was in several other mafias for many years. But they were all the strongest.

You were laughing at him because every time he sees someone from Gojo, he looks like he suddenly got rabies.

You've seen him once or twice, and you confirm what your husband says.

This man looks like a bulldog that's already wrinkled too much. He gets a sudden rage when he sees Satoru and wants to attack. Whenever she yells at him, it sounds like he's barking.

You watched as Satoru twisted his face with his fingers, and started mimicking what the old man said.

"Young man.... Respect your elders.... You damn brat.... The youth of today have no respect at all... Gojo Satoru, don't be a child and stop smiling!" he said, faking his voice, only to lie down on the couch later and laugh with a little red on his cheeks from the heat inside the room.

When your laughter died down, you wanted to ask him something.

Have you ever wondered why his head is so big...

"Satoru, I have a question." You said before giggling softly. "Why does his head look like a melon that is slowly molding?"

He gave you a questioning look before bursting out laughing, imagining a melon with a gray beard and those brows like moths.

"Don't you think he looks a bit like a moth?" he asked hugging a pillow to his chest.

You corrected yourself as you sat in the chair next to him.

"Moth?" You grunted suddenly imagining a moth yelling at Satoru.

You started laughing.

He, when he imagined a moth in his clothes, also began to laugh. A hairy insect that holds a wooden cane.

Laughing, he shifted to the side, and suddenly fell off the couch, hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

He uttered a soft "uh" as he fell, but he continued to laugh as the image of the Gakuganji moth still lingered in his mind.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you imagined his face falling off his head, from old age.

"What this time? Tell me!" he moaned with a red face.

"After all, he looks like his face has started to roll down from old age..." you muttered.

"You're right! Go down!" He laughed, laying on his back. "He's going to be walking on his own beard soon! I'm waiting for him to ride bike and he'll get caught in the chain of his bike now!"

You had enough, you kept laughing.

Your faces were red when you couldn't breathe properly and your faces were already aching from smiling.

You got down from your chair wanting to get a drink because laughing really made you thirsty for water.

Walking forward, you caught your foot on the mafia boss - your husband - lying on the floor.

Falling onto his chest, you laughed, not even bothering to get down.

You do not care.

You can rest like this...

Lying on top of him, you listened to his breathing and his soft laugh. Also laughing all the time.

You sat down suddenly on his stomach and smiled as you dug your finger into his chest.

"Guess who I'm pretending to be, okay?" You grunted as you waited for his response.

"Only if I get a reward~." He gave you a smile.

"What's that?" You asked slightly serious, but there was still a smile on your lips.

"Kiss~."

You looked at him questioningly.

"Fine. You'll get a kiss." you put your finger on his cheek. "Then guess who it is."

Suddenly you took an empty glass from the table and pretended to drink something.

"Nanami?" he asked seeing you pretending.

You can pretend to drink tea.

You shook your head.

You pushed the glass away and brought it closer again, tapping the edge of your hand lightly on the neck. Hoping it will look like you're showing you're drinking alcohol.

"Hmm... Shoko?" he asked, placing two fingers on his chin.

You shook your head again.

You took the glass and pretended to drink very greedily.

"Oh! That Zenin Drunker!" he chuckled pointing at you.

"You guessed it." You smiled. "So your reward."

You leaned in and placed your lips on his soft cheek.

At the same time, he grabbed your arms and flipped you onto your side so you were underneath him.

As he grabbed your thighs, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

He connected your lips in a long kiss.

You didn't mind him touching you.

You've been in this forced marriage for a few months now, and there's a lot more going on between you than just hugging and kissing.

You put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away so you could catch your breath.

Your relationship as lovers allows you to do that.

"I remember what happened on our honeymoon." he said with a smile as he gently placed his stomach and hips against your body. Still keeping part of his body on the forearms that were on either side of your head.

"I didn't want it."

"But you rode with me anyway." replied. "And it was on this island where we were, I really realizing that you are the woman I'm starting to fall in love with."

You looked at him, slightly disbelieving.

You can't get used to him saying that...

He still does it, even if it would hurt anyone to know that someone they love doesn't feel the same way.

It would be really painful. But he doesn't show it.

Because it's enough for him that you like him. That you treat him as a close person without love.

That you're with him, and you're happy about it.

He knew that now, after these few months with him, you don't want to change that.

Your behavior and all you made him feel that you are important to him. Even if you don't love him, he will still love you.

Every time he looked into your eyes, he felt like he was drowning in it. He was drowning in feeling.

It was the first love he had.

Even if there was something before you, it wasn't the same.

He's never been married before. He didn't know what it was like.

And now that he's bound to you somehow forever, he felt different.

"But I... I'm sorry..." you muttered.

"I do not mind. You will still be with me. After all, you're happy." he said with a smile. "We're together."

"I like being with you."

He was glad to hear that.

Even if you didn't love him, you treated him the way a wife treats her husband.

He gave up his life for you.

You placed your hands on his cheeks, stroking them gently.

You want to do something to make your happiness last much longer.

Something so that your happiness does not disappear.

You want to be with him all the time.

To keep your life like this, you can do anything to just be with it longer.

And suddenly he called back.

"Have you ever thought about children?"

[piracytheorist]

Have you watched my big fat greek wedding?

Watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding at least once was basically a cultural must for Greeks, from baby boomers to maybe even early gen Z-ers. Not that people older than boomers wouldn't watch it, it's just that boomers were the first generation fully comfortable with using a TV. Even if your family didn't buy the vhs/dvd, the film plays like every year on the TV since it came out so it's really, really hard to miss.

I have fond memories of watching it but I haven't watched it full in many years so I have no idea if it's aged badly XD

I can't talk about the accuracy of the film, since it focuses on Greek immigrants (now why some of those immigrants are played by Italian actors is fucking beyond me) and I haven't lived away from Greece, but I can guess that because those people live away from Greece, they may tend to overdo it on the traditions. Like, the wedding itself is pretty accurate, though maybe a little exaggerated for mainland Greek standards. I don't think I've ever been to a wedding with multiple bridesmaids who also wore matching dresses, and I've been to quite a few weddings. But again, it's the abundant appliance of traditions mixed with whatever American traditions the family picked up during their integration, so from that standpoint it may make sense. Idk. I haven't attended any weddings abroad XD

The parents are quite accurate, though. The father going like "Get married, make babies" is 100% overbearing parent of that generation, though it's usually the mothers doing that. The big ass family tree with multiple cousins with the same name is also accurate - my brother shares his name with two of our cousins, and my sister with one. The reason for that is that, at least up until late millenials, babies were named after one of their grandparents. So if a grandparent had three children and all of them had kids, there would be a chance that they'd have three grandchildren with their name (and we tend to have male and female versions of the same name, so you can be called Konstantinos and have a granddaughter named Konstantina). It's still kept as a tradition today but not as much as in earlier years.

Overall the film is pretty close to the average Greek's worldview, though again, influenced by the first generation immigrating to another country far away.

That said, in our family we quote "He's a xeno!" and "Ine keki mori (It's a cake, you dumb) / Ah! It's a KEK!" all the time.

Wait, no, edit: Because I need to say this, when Toula's brothers trick Ian into shouting in front of everyone "I have three balls", the word he uses in Greek is a heavy swear word for "balls". Like, we also have euphemisms like that that may be used for lighter occasions, but the "αρχίδια" that he says is the equivalent of saying "dick" rather than "penis". At least the way I view it, maybe "balls" in that context is heavy, but like, it's pretty much of a potty mouth to say "αρχίδια" and it looks weird for it to be simply translated as "balls" XD

[disrcpairs]

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         alisha boe,  26,  cis woman,  she + her.    announcing  the  arrival  of  ARYA  of  house  STARK,  the  LADY  of  WINTERFELL.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  EFFUSIVE  and  FLIGHTY  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  exploring, archery.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  wolf wandering in wait in the woods, dusting of snow sprinkling the wind, disposition reminiscent of warmed chocolate in frigid cold.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  THE  STARKS.

*      𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬      .

full   name   : arya stark nickname ( s )   : n/a age   :   twenty six gender   +   pronouns   : cis woman, she + her height   :   five   foot,   six   inches   nameday : june 23rd, cancer sexuality  : demiromantic, demisexual marital   status   :  unbetrothed, unmarried status : lady of winterfell spoken languages : common tongue accent : westerosi nationality : westerosi

*      𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞      .

faceclaim : alisha boe ethnicity : the first men hair : mix of black, brown, honeyed blonde eyes : dark brown scent : snow + chocolate dominant hand : left build : slender allergies : none scars : many from playing in the woods, with her siblings, etc. distinguishing features : beauty marks and moles clothing style : typical of the north, muted colors while in the south

*      𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧     .

mbti :   the adventurer    enneagram :   the enthusiast element :   air    temperament :   choleric   character   inspirations :   elle woods, lucy ricardo, myrcella baratheon deadly   sin :   envy heavenly   virtue :   diligence    godly   parent :   iris

*      𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬     .

hobbies :  exploring, archery   religion :  the old gods  alliance :  the north, only personal goals :  recover from her brother's death  would they choose family or power ? family without question

*      𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬     .

theon stark : sibling, alive shirei stark : good sister, alive lysen stark : sibling, deceased martyn stark : sibling, alive lyana + benjen stark : niece and nephew, alive

*      𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬      .

arya's direwolf is named shade. black with dark brown streaks, black muzzle and golden eyes. she's protective of all of the starks. has a similar temperament of arya and can be seen rough housing with her and playing in the snow, agile and quick. easily riled up but will calm quickly around arya, if arya is also calm. doesn't like to be stagnant or at rest and will go on romps through the woods when the need suits her but will return.

arya finds court in the south to be stuffy and fake. keeping others happy with pretty words is the least of her concern, and is rough around the edges in terms of manners and propriety. she'd rather comb the grounds, climb trees, and watch the world from above than to hear more about weddings and dragons.

in winterfell she would go missing for days on end, only to be found at wintertown or returned once she'd gone after and found whatever it was that had caught her attention in the forests. with shade as a dutiful companion she'd never thought to think of danger, but after king's landing she thinks it's unnecessary to come at the beck and call of the queen. she's only spoken these thoughts to martyn, as the closeness of theon and rhaeys makes her nervous to speak her mind.

*      𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲      .

to be added with plotting.

[eywaseclipse]

Written in the Stars Chapter 11: The Most Precious Pearl*

Characters: Na’vi oc reader Tani, Jake, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Tuk, Kiri, Ronal, Metkayina clan members 

Synopsis: You and your family are adjusting to your new home, with a few hiccups in the way, you try to acclimate to your new environment and married life. Lo’ak and Neteyam defend Kiri when she gets bullied, you and Jake have a heart to heart and finally mate

Warnings: Finally SMUT, no minors. 18+ only please

Word Count: 4k

Ever since your conversation with Ronal, you sensed a deeper yearning for your husband than before. You knew that you could choose one of two options; continue this awkward scared dynamic too afraid to take the plunge to admit your feelings, or venture into that unknown territory together. You had been willing to complete your union the night of your wedding, you could’ve sworn Jake was ready too. You both had a softness in your eyes submitting to the laws of nature, compelled to do whatever you needed for your family and clan. But ever since seeking refuge in the reef clan, he has been too busy to share any moments with you. 

Slowly, a distance between the two of you had formed, an unspoken gap that the two of you fear to admit to one another. There were fleeting moments you could tell Jake was also yearning for more, from small glances, soft touches, quick pecks. You knew he wouldn’t take it any further unless you did something first, so your conversation with Ronal solidified that it is you who must thaw your heart in order to let love guide your actions. 

Today was no different from any other day, you woke up this morning with your back to your husband, feeling the heat radiate from his bigger form. Your family helping with breakfast as they prepare for their new duties as sea people. Neteyam has begun training for his passage hunt that will solidify his place among the Metkayina, so you rarely see him these days. Lo’ak spends most of his time with Tsireya and Kiri, with Tuk tagging along. The friendship between the kids and the chief’s son started out rough when he and his friends decided to pick on Kiri resulting in a fight. But a few months have passed and the kids have overcome their differences and have become close. 

You miss your own friends back home, you haven’t had much time to meet anyone your age here, not that you would find yourself relating to them anyway. You now sit in the Tsahìk’s tent once again, as the two of you ready to harvest more roots and herbs in the mangrove forest. Ronal’s pregnancy is in the halfway stretch, with her belly becoming rounder and more swollen you assist her in anyway you can. 

As you weave through the humid forest, you take in the sounds of the environment, your ears perked to the sounds of the life humming around you. The familiarity making your heart swell with melancholy. 

This forest is much more lush and tropical unlike your dense canopy home, still breeds a comfort that blooms in your belly knowing you can come here when you have moments longing for your old life. “We are here.” Ronal announces interrupting your trance. You look to where you are standing at the bottom of a large mangrove tree, from the looks of it it’s probably close to 100 years old or more. You nod, and set your woven bag down readying your tools to extract the sap from the tree. Carefully watching Ronal demonstrate first, you then ready your tinctures and fill up your jars. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, as you both have found a middle ground in your budding friendship. 

Your bag is now filled with sap, healing berries, roots, and herbs you will hang to dry and mix into a powder. What’s left is to find a salve. “We must go to the glow worm cave to extract the salve, it is just a few clicks North.” You smile and nod your head as you follow the ocean eyed woman. “What part of the glow worm is the healing property?” You inquire. She turns to you as you both keep the same pace, despite her pregnant belly, she remains swift and agile. “I will show you, we must swim beyond the pools and waterfall.” 

You see a beautiful shimmering body of water come into your line of sight, as your Tsahìk hoists her bag to the back of her body, you following suit. You both dip into the water wading towards the water fall, she dives into the water below where the water fall hits the pond, with you following close by. With Ronal’s breathing exercises and daily water training, you can now hold your breath up to 5 minutes. This swim only takes 30 seconds, as you both surface into the cave. The rocky walls are lit with the most alluring shade of bioluminescence you have ever seen. Your own starry face lit from the dim lit environment glows like a galaxy. 

You can’t help the childish smile on your face as you turn your head misty eyed to take everything in. You follow Ronal, climbing out of the water onto a rock clearing. “This cove has been a secret for generations, only Tsahìks and select apprentices have ever bore witness to the cave’s glory.” You gasp at the revelation, suddenly feeling shy that she allowed you to be part of this. You can only find yourself to lightly nod in thanks, and smile to your Tsahìk in gratitude. She smiles back, as she reaches into her bag for the tools need for more extractions. 

“Here, take this jar I will show you how to properly care for the worms and take the bioluminescence liquid from them without causing harm.” You watch as she carefully grabs a glow worm, with a metal tool to scrape the goo from its body gently, as you ready the jar for the liquid to fall into. Your eyes widen with wonder as she continues extracting the liquid one by one, gently removing and placing the worms back on their rocks. “Here, you try.” You switch positions with her and begin your own extraction, carefully mimicking her and placing the liquid into the jar as she holds it for you. “The nectar of the glow worm possesses a mysterious healing property. 

It will help many wounds such as burns, cuts, and bruises. I use this salve to help post birth mothers heal their bodies. It is also wonderful as a lubricant.” Your head immediately whips to her, with cheeks now burning red. “Oh.” Is all you could muster, her smirk clearly finds humor in your reaction. You continue your extractions for several hours, making sure all your jars are filled to the brim with the healing nectar, as you prepare the jars into the bags to head back. “The return of the Tulkun is next week Tani, I have something I want to show you then as well.” She says softly. You smile, “Okay.” As you both sling the bags onto your backs and dive into the water, you can’t help but wonder why she added that last part to her sentence earlier today about the glow worms.

You bring back the bags into your Tsahìk’s tent putting them on her shelfs one by one. She grabs a few jars and puts them in your hands. “Take these in case your family needs them.” You nod and thank her. Both of you begin to grind the herbs into a bowl for future use, then store the mangrove root sap into a dark corner in a basket. “That is for the hunting festival. It will be ready in several months to drink.” Oh. It’s alcohol. You think to yourself. “We are done for the day Tani, you did very well. Take some of these herbs too. You never know when they are needed.” You nod, packing your bag and make your way home, as the sun begins to set for the day. 

You enter your marui, noticing you’re the first one home. You take a happy sigh, and begin to unpack your new herbs and salves putting them on the shelves on your side of the tent. You start humming to yourself, happily swaying your tail back and forth as you now find your bowl of beads and halfway done armbands and necklaces. You started crafting more now that you’re apprenticing the Tsahìk, your time no longer spent being a ferocious war general. 

You bring the bowl over to the mats of pillows and begin finishing the pearl and shell necklace you’re making for Jake. You’re more than halfway done so you finish by stringing the opalescent pearls and shells onto the string with the other sea foam green and blue beads. You don’t even notice Jake entering the tent until he says your name. You squeal with surprise as he breaks your trance. “Ah! Oh, Jake you scared me.” You laugh with your hand on your chest. He laughs with you, shaking his head. “Sorry Tani, you seemed to be real focused on that necklace.” You hum in response as you finish stringing your last bead. You weave the clasp onto the necklace and look at it with pride, as you stand up to show him your work. 

“I actually made this for you.” Your cheeks begin to flush with shyness as he carefully inspects your work. His big hands caressing the beads softly, “You made this for me?” He asks quietly. Your eyes meet, softly gazing into each other, as you nod your head shyly. “Yes, I spent several weeks finding the pearls and shells that remind me of you. Do you like it?” He smiles so wide his fangs glisten, and eyes crinkle with happiness. “Yeah I like it.” Is all he can muster to say. What he doesn’t say is that his heart is bursting wide open with joy that he fears he might crumble right in front of you. 

“Here, let me.” You say grabbing the necklace to put around his neck. You move behind him, as he grabs his hair to make room for your small hands. You weave it around the back, as he feels your hot breath on his neck sending a delicious shiver down his spine. You feel his tail accidentally brush against your thigh as he happily flicks it with excitement. A rush of electricity now surging through your own body. “There.” You pat his shoulder and walk around him to admire your work. You take in his scrumptious form, the new lifestyle making his body harder, stronger. The water training causing his muscles to fill out even more, his biceps bulging with veins, his thighs impeccably thick, his stomach now forming the abs he said goodbye to in fatherhood. 

You’re practically drooling at your husband, as he takes notice of your clear ogling. He won’t deny he likes his beautiful wife staring at him like he’s desirable. It makes him feel wanted, sexy. He can’t hide the smile on his face as he sees your eyes scanning his figure, his chest instinctively puffs out with pride. “See something you like baby?” He tests the waters with the pet name. Breaking your trance, you bat your lashes several times, with your eyes now peering into his soul, you take a step forward, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I think I do, Sayrìp handsome.” You practically purr into him, your nose nuzzling into his neck. He doesn’t know what has gotten into your sudden change in demeanor, but he does know that you’ve been trying to fill the gap between you two he’s unintentionally created since coming here. His heart aches knowing he has brushed you off as a mate, but maybe this is his second chance, and he’d be damned if he would screw this up again.

His ears perk up in intrigue as you address him, relishing in your sweet touch as you kiss his neck right under his ear. “Jake.” You whimper, “I’m tired of fighting the current between us.” He sighs deeply, knowing that you’ve noticed the distance too. “I know sweetheart, me too.” He cups your jaw lovingly, as you now gaze into each other’s amber eyes. “Maybe we can let this be a fresh start for us Jake. For the kids, for our union.” You say timidly. Jake would be a fool not to take this opportunity to mend both your hearts. He takes a deep breath, and smiles. “I think I’d like that.” 

Finally closing the space between you two, both physical and metaphorical you both bring your lips to join each other. You melt into the warmth of his lips moaning into him. He finds the right moment to sneak his tongue into your mouth, causing an enticing whimper from you. You break the kiss suddenly, now knowing what you must do. “Jake there’s somewhere I want to show you.” His eyes quizzically meet yours, understanding the unspoken desire to now finish what you two started the night of your wedding. Oh. He thinks to himself. “Okay.” He just shyly replies. 

You hastily pack a small mat into your bag, you hoist it over your shoulder. You grab his hand, and make way out of your marui, not wanting to waste a second longer. “What about the kids? They’re gonna be home soon from duties.” You turn your head to him behind you as you drag him along the village, “Tuk told me that Tsireya and the others are taking them to the cove of the ancestors at Eclipse, we have several hours before they’ll be home.” He just shakes his head and chuckles as you lead the way from the village, into the tropical forest. 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence, as you make your way into the thick of the jungle. “Where are you taking me sweetheart?” He laughs. “You’ll see Jake.” As you smile at his eagerness. You finally reach the destination, the small lake with the waterfall you and Ronal visited this morning. The flora and fauna now lighting up the sky as the sun begins to set. Jake’s eyes widen with wonder, as he appreciates the vivid scene in front of him. “Wow.” He huffs. He looks to you admiring the scenery, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “Beautiful isn’t it. And we have a Yovo fruit tree right next to us if we get hungry.” You say excitedly. 

You bring the bag down onto the ground as Jake helps you lay out the mat on the plush surface of the grass. Both of you sitting and enjoying each other’s company. “Would you like to go for a swim?” You ask raising your eyebrows to him. He swears he has gone weak in the knees for you, with that devilish grin on your face melting his jaded heart. He nods, as you begin to unfasten your beaded top. He helps you unclasp the back, as it falls to the ground, with your nipples now hard from the cool night air. His eyes bore into them, just like on your wedding night, only now he knows better than to just ogle. You shimmy out of your loincloth, gently undoing his own as he just stares at you with adoration, his heart begins to thump against his chest loudly like some horny teenager. 

You notice his sudden shy demeanor, “See something you like baby?” With a shit eating grin on your face, he laughs. “Using my own words against me? That’s not playing fair sweetheart.” You laugh, and shake your head, making your way to descend into the water, “Since when does a Sully play fair?” You say with a wink. Goddamnit this woman is a minx.

 He chases you into the water throwing you over his shoulder, both of you filled with déjà vu. You splash him as he sets you down, curling your legs over him once more. Your eyes both filled with such yearning. Without wasting a second more you both crash your lips into each other, filled with urgency and hunger. The passionate kiss sends an indescribable heat in between your legs causing a moan to escape your mouth. You can’t help but rut your hips into Jake’s stomach as he sucks on the bottom of your lip and shoves his tongue into your mouth. Your hands squeeze the back of his head hard, as you seek friction where you need him most. He senses your rapid movements as needing more, and scoops your ass up into his stomach, his own arousal now evident against your skin. You moan as you feel his hard bulge press against your hips, now needing more you practically beg him, “Jake, please. I’m ready. I need you.” He relishes in your whiney tone, humping him, needing him. “Okay sweetheart.” He nuzzles his nose into your neck, drowning in your delicious scent. 

He scoops you up, and brings you out of the water, and onto the mat. Your hair sprawled out, and bioluminescent dots make you look so enticing and angelic he practically growls at the sight alone. You sit yourself up, bringing your face to his, kissing him slowly. He cups your face with both hands as you mount him, but it’s not as rushed as a few moments ago. No, you’re savoring every second with your husband, as you moan into the kiss once again. You feel him rub the back of your kuru, massaging it lovingly. He’s ready to seal the bond with you for life, as you bring your hand to the back of his. Both of you silently nod, as you watch your tendrils weave into the air desperately seeking union. 

The bond suddenly rips through your entire body, causing a wave of the most intense emotions you have ever experienced in your entire life. Your pupils dilate hugely, causing your amber eyes to be but small rings. You feel the wind knocked out of your lungs as you look to your mate, as he experiences the same effects. You now feel his heartbeat, his breaths, his love for you, his family, the arousal flowing through your veins as if your own. You can’t help but shiver from extreme stimulation. Both of you panting, bring your foreheads together relishing in Tsaheylu. 

Jake now filled with your own desire, also feels the yearning you’ve had for him ever since arriving to sanctuary, the love you have for his children, your home, your people. He feels the pride swell in your chest over the love you have for him, and sexual desire to make him yours. The current of electricity coursing through his veins, he brings eyes to meet yours. Both of you now mated for life, breathing the same breaths. “I see you.” He quietly whispers. Tears now forming in your eyes, you smile to your husband. “I see you.” Not wanting to wait any longer, he grabs your face for a burning kiss, his tongue immediately assaulting your mouth once again. 

You instinctively grab his throbbing length, causing a moan to escape his mouth. He litters kisses from your jaw, to your neck, making his way down to your collarbone leaving a trail of wet marks on your blue skin. He lays you down on the mat again, boring into your eyes. I need this man to fuck me now or else I’ll burst! You thought transferred to him. He chuckles, with your eyes going wide with confusion. “Babygirl, the bond makes it so that we can hear each other’s thoughts.” You whimper, “Well you heard me, Jake.” 

He smirks at your desperation. He brings his head down dipping into your breasts, playing with a nipple in his mouth sucking softly. You lift your chest in pleasure as he swirls his tongue around the bud, massaging the other with his free hand. You writhe underneath him from the stimulation as he continues to suck and lick harshly. With a sudden pop, he brings his mouth down to your stomach, a wet trail of kisses leading down your body. “Can I taste you pretty girl?” As he gazes up to your hooded lids completely lost in pleasure. “Yes!” You whine. He swears he might cum from your own arousal alone. He dips his head in between your soft thighs, gripping them with his large hands, as he slowly kisses your legs, inching closer and closer to where your sopping wet heat needs him.

He gingerly licks your swollen bud, causing a long moan to tear into the forest, as you throw your head back in bliss. Never being touched by a man your senses are on overdrive, and being sent straight into your mate as well. He relishes in your euphoria, as he begins to suck a little harshly. You buck your hips into his face as he begins to eat you out like a man starved. Your nectar coating his chin, he’s completely enveloped in your heat.

 His animalistic urges take over as he shoves his face harder into your cunt, moaning loudly as he dips his tongue into your silky folds. Your hands grip his locs tightly, as you begin to feel a burning sensation your stomach. He gently takes his two fingers and slides them into your heat, in a come here motion, causing a surge of pleasure to course through your whole body. He feels it instantly, as it goes straight to his cock, he restrains himself from his own pleasure as he continues licking your silky pussy drinking every last drop. 

He feels you’re close, by plunging in one more finger quickening his pace to reach your orgasm. Your thighs begin to shake, and vision spots as you scream into the air, “Jake! I’m-cum, I’m cumming!” As you soak his face with your juices. He growls into your pussy shoving his nose into your throbbing clit, drinking your nectar as you ride your climax. Your breathing begins to slow as your body heaves, he sits up sucking his fingers of your juices one by one. You can only stare at him in awe. Your hooded eyes make contact with his as you slam your mouth into his, tasting your arousal on his wet lips. 

He moans into the kiss as you grab his throbbing length again, this time pumping it hastily as you feel it jump in your hands. He groans from sudden contact, breaking the kiss. “Sweetheart if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to have my way with you.” His chest now heaving, you feel him refraining to cum right there, as you remove your hand and nod your head. He gently grips your waist, as you mount him, your hips hovering his cock. “This might hurt at first, but if it’s too much for you, tell me to stop and I will okay?” He reassures you. All you can do is nod, as you slowly sink onto his length, all 14 inches. Your brows pinch together with a slight pinch of pain from him entering, but the orgasm he gave you slicked your walls nicely, that he slides into you without any friction.

You sit on his length for a moment, the air in your lungs re entering, as he’s patiently waiting for you to adjust to the new sensation, by caressing your braids softly. You bring your mouth to his, kissing him lightly as you tell him to move his hips through the bond. He gingerly snaps them up, causing you to gasp in pleasure, the pain of your hymen breaking now replaced with pure euphoria. You start to roll your hips excitedly against his, with his pelvis brushing against your already stimulated clit, “Oh!” You squeal. Jake’s ears perked to the sweet sound of your voice as he thrusts his hips to meet yours. “Fuck!” He whimpers into your ear. You two find a delicious rhythm, as your body begins to beg for more. “Jake faster, please, I can handle it.” You moan. “Yeah?” He thumps into your pelvis. “You want it fast babygirl? I’ll give you fast.” 

He takes your hips and flips your body onto your back, spreading your legs wide. This new angle allows him to go much deeper than before, as he slams his hips into your pelvis, balls slap against your skin loudly. “Agh!” You squeal in pleasure, your sweet sounds encouraging him to keep moving. He thumps his hips into yours as you curl your hand to the back of his head slamming a searing kiss into him, as he feels the ecstasy flow from you to him. His cock aching for a release, feels your silky walls tighten on him begging for another orgasm, “Fuck! Babygirl you feel amazing. Fuck I love you!” He huffs into your mouth. Your vision begins to spot again as you whimper into your mate’s mouth, “Agh! I love you too!” 

The sound of your bodies colliding mixed with the squelching of your pussy fills your ears with lewd bliss. The fire in your belly making its way, as Jake takes his hand to rub your swollen bud feverishly. 

He feels you’re close, hell he’s close because he can feel you’re almost there too. “Oh! Jake I’m cumming again!” The delicious combination of his relentless pounding, and your clit being rubbed you swear you see Eywa herself as your climax tears through your entire body causing you to shudder violently. Your pussy clenches down on your mate’s length, causing him to cum right there, his hot seed filling your womb as he grips your face for a searing kiss. The rhythm of your bodies colliding, slow down as you both come down from bliss. He slumps onto your chest, as you feel tears brimming in your eyes. 

He feels your emotion through Tsaheylu, as he brings his head to meet yours in concern, “Hey what is it pretty girl? Why are you crying?” He takes you in his arms as you sniffle lightly. “These are happy tears Jake. I am so happy. We are now mated for life.” You say with the most heartwarming smile he’s ever seen. His emotions begin to get the best of him, as your love for each other gets shared, his own eyes now watering. “Thank you for taking a chance on an old man like me. I know I’m not the easiest to be around, but I will do my best for you and this family Tani.” He whispers into your ear. “I know Jake. I know” 

You embrace each other as a mated pair that evening, relishing in the bond, not once breaking Tsaheylu. You feed each other Yovo fruit and go for several more rounds of love making before you make your way back to your shared home still linked together. You hold hands the entire walk home, walking through the village, some people stare at you knowing what has occurred, with both of your connected kurus being the most obvious clue. They respectfully nod their heads, as you make way to the family marui, to ready dinner, and to be with your family, finally as one.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Also Colm and Marya 😭💕

Hi again 🥰 thanks for asking for this one— I am still working on it, real life just got in the way!

He brushed away her Kerch politeness with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothing— after all, you’re family.”

It was a strange thought. The words felt clunky and untrue on his tongue, even though, logically, they were absolute fact. Marya Hendriks was now bound to him as family, through the marriage of their sons. He had led Jesper down the grand aisle of the Church of Barter himself, not a week prior. His son was grown.

Jesper was married.

It was overwhelming, almost claustrophobic, all of a sudden. His family had consisted of no one but a wild boy on the other side of the sea and the spirit of his wife for so long. Now, his home was full of life, his boy was somebody’s husband, and this woman was an in-law.

He liked Marya just fine. It wasn’t as if he disliked her. Saints knew Colm adored Wylan, and— despite their lengthy and traumatic separation— she and her son were still so notably similar. She was quiet, and a little overly formal to Colm’s frontier sensibilities, but she was perfectly charming. And oh, what a great help she’d been during the last weeks wedding preparations, navigating the pomp and circumstance of Geldstraat wedding customs, and… and all the danger and drama leading, finally, to the ceremony. Marya Hendriks was a good woman.

Colm just didn’t really know her at all. It was a stiff, awkward thing, to call a stranger family.

She seemed just as flustered by the use of the word, smoothing her skirts where she sat in the grass. “Well, regardless, it’s very kind of you. A ceremony out here seems to suit the boys much better. They seem… at ease.”

Out here everyone’s actually happy for them, he thought to himself, truly happy, with no damned murder plots up their sleeves. He bit his cheek against the sourness, but he couldn’t deny the memories of the last few weeks. Colm sat through that gilded ceremony balancing the pride and joy of his only son’s marriage, with the knowledge that so many people in that same hall were hateful and false.

He cleared his throat, and wished he hadn’t given Addy the last of his whiskey, if only to get the bitter taste of anger out of his mouth.

“I’m glad they chose to celebrate out here as well.” He said.

Her laugh surprised him, blinking his gaze away from the yellow lighted windows of the house to her incredulous face.

“No need to be so diplomatic, Colm. Mercher society is… not for everyone.”

He huffed a rough laugh of his own. “And that’s just the way they like it! They made that plenty clear.” Shaking his head, the bluster deflated from him. It was odd— they couldn’t be too far off in age, yet she still seemed so young to him. It was hard to believe that, at one point, she had been a teenaged socialite, marrying into that world, too. “Was it so hostile back when you were married?”

He only thought after he’d said the words, that it was maybe a bit too personal of a question. But Marya only shrugged. “Perhaps it was, but there was no reason that it would be directed at me— yet. I suppose there were warning signs, but I breezed right by them. No one knew yet, how unfit of a match I was—“

“I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s quite alright, Colm. Sometimes it still hurts to remember, but… Now, I get to be in his life again. And I’m not the naive girl I was when I stood at that altar.”

Night was falling swiftly around them, petals drifting down from Addy’s tree and crickets chirping in the quiet. It felt like a lament. Again, she looked like Wylan, with that faraway look in her brown eyes. She ducked her head for a moment, and the look was gone. He couldn’t fathom what these two people had endured.

Colm swallowed before he tentatively dared to break the quiet. “He’s lucky to have you in his corner.”

“Jesper does too—“ she smiled, “we’re family, after all.”

This little oneshot is part of the engagement series! As a missing scene/epilogue to the actual wedding fic. That fic is hinted a little bit in here— it’s High Drama and Very Intense 😅👍 I like the idea of them having their big Kerch ceremony for Legal and Traditional Purposes™️, and then holding a small, private exchange of vows with their closest family and friends out at the farm. Under Aditi’s cherry tree. 🥰🌸🥰🌸

Thank you so much for playing! ❤️

[sam-glade]

9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?

Give me an infodump >:3

15. Do any of your ocs use neopronouns? Which ones?

Thank you, Feather 💜 Answering in reverse order, since the info dump will get lengthy ;)

(For the Pride ask game)

15. Do any of your ocs use neopronouns? Which ones?

None at the moment, unless you count the Sun King using He/Him as opposed to he/him (or They/Them, depending on the time period), analogously to the Judeo-Christian God ;).

9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?

Tl;dr: the Sunblessed Realm has always, throughout its history, been a queer-normative society, so the idea of a 'queer' identity doesn't exist in the same way as in the real world - i.e. defined in opposition to the allocishet norm.

Sexual orientation:

The assumption in the setting is that you're pansexual/bisexual unless otherwise specified (and that's a fair assumption for my characters. Being attracted to a particular gender is pretty comparable to simply having a strong type, so letting someone down by saying 'sorry, I'm not into men' is polite enough, though of course people can still get salty and disappointed ;)

On a personal preference note, I like to define my characters as having a preference (strong or weak or none at all) for masculinity/femininity, so a character who in our world would consider himself a gay man isn't going to have second thoughts about having some fun with a drag king or a very masc woman. He may decide he's not 100% into that, but hey, it was worth a try.

And yes, there are no gender restrictions on marriage or on adoption. We also have at least one example of a polycule on page from a recurring character (Renna of the Sixth Tree), though I didn't need to figure out how the wedding ceremony works then. Yet (eyeing The Truth Teller warily)

Relatedly, given the in theory indefinite lifespan, averaging around 270-300 years, during the period from reaching adulthood at 35 to the cusp of their first century people are free to experiment and decide what they want out of life. Family? Adventure? Are they more of free spirits and don't want to settle anywhere? This also covers what sort of relationships they want.

Gender identity:

I'm using the baseline of 3% of people being genderqueer - it's really hard to find reliable statistics, since it's impossible to tell if the respondents are being honest. That still means that if you live even in a small rural community of 70-100 people, you will probably know a couple of genderqueer folks, so while it's rarer than being cis, it's still fairly common knowledge. It certainly helps that Anthea, a head of state, is trans and that's public knowledge.

Children (up until the age of 35) are considered genderless. Only when they reach adulthood, they choose a name for themselves, which tends to be gendered, thus declaring 'hey, I'm a man/woman/something else/both/neither'. As a rule of thumb, feminine names end in -a or -is, masculine in -m or -n, though it's just a custom, not a requirement, and people from other regions (e.g. Nikols) won't follow it. More on the coming of age ceremony here.

Fashion is also different between genders, in that it tends to highlight the physical appearance and characteristics people tend to find appealing about the given gender. Hence, women's gowns will be slightly cinched at the waist, emphasising the hips, while men's will make their shoulders look a little broader. This also means that trans women can easily add rolls around hips and pad their bodices to have more of an hourglass silhouette, while trans mascs... 🥲 *Cries over a bust too big for a binder*

Ehm, anyway. Gender non-conformity is also considered not scandalous, so we've got e.g. Erya, who's by our standards a butch, never wearing jewellery, and if you tell her to put on a skirt you run a serious risk of ending up with a knife in your gut.

Other than that, the current (as of Days of Dusk) fashion is that men are clean shaven. Hair length is correlated to digital status more than gender, not none of these are hard and fast rules.

Aromanticism and asexuality

Again, it's hard to tell how common these identities are irl, but I wager that more than 9 in 10 people enjoys romance, and so we've got some courting rituals as you might expect. It's not impolite to try flirting with someone and be told 'no' without an explanation (not into you? not into this sort of relationship at all? just not looking for anyone right now?), but it would be rude to press the advances further.

As for anyone ace, there are at least two notable figures who haven't entered into a long-term romantic relationship even once over their millennia-long lives (the Prince of the West and Claren the Nightingale, Ianim's tutor), so that hopefully sends enough of a message that you don't need to pair up with someone to have a fulfilling life. Also, given the long lifespan, I imagine a lot of people (e.g. parents who want grandkids) accepting that there's no need to rush to get married and have children. Maybe their child will change their mind later in life. Maybe they'll form other bonds and e.g. become the glue that keeps a community together.

It's also worth mentioning that sex work is legal and regulated by a guild, much like any other trade, so if anyone is wondering 'do I like sex at all' can easily go to a brothel to find out. Similarly, aromantic allosexuals (*cough* Gullin *cough*) may be frequent clients.

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Fnaf next generation au facts.(trigger warning, death and miscarriage.)

1.This universe takes place in January, fifteenth, 2032.

2.Blossom is the oldest of three daughters with her younger sisters being Mavis(31) and Penny(29).

3.Moon and Blossom are thrity three and will be thirty four later that year.

4.Blossom's mom is a blue opossum named Skye(brown eyes) and her dad is a pink oppossum named Jason(purple eyes).

5.Mavis had kids before Blossom.(Her husband is a brown fruitbat with yellow eyes named Dylan, their oldest kid is a purple fruitbat with brown eyes and markings named Bridget(8), and their youngest kid is a brown opossum with purple markings and yellow eyes named Percy(6).)

6.Lulu is a middle child with an older brother and a younger sister.

7.Moondrop is a rainbow baby and Eclipse is the older brother he and Sundrop never got to meet.

8.History repeated itself with Moondrop's daughter Luna is also a rainbow baby with Hannah(would've been a harlequin oppossum with the right fur being pink and the left fur being black, and having brown eyes) being the older sister she and Trixie never got to meet.

9.Speaking of family members Luna and Trixie never got to meet, Moondrop and Sundrop's father, Oswald passed away before either of them had kids.(based on how Chilli's mother passed away before she had kids and had to learn to be a mom without her)

10.Oswald died in a work accident shortly after Blossom and Moondrop got married.

11.Luna's family and Bella's family are neighbors who live two houses from eachother.

12.They show will mainly focus and Sundrop and Moondrop's family tree, with the episodes focusing on Moondrop's family taking place in Rochester, New York while the episodes focusing on Sundrop's family taking place in Canandaigua, New York.

13.Sundrop and Moondrop grew up in Skeneatles, New York with their childhood home looking like this.(Their mother, Astra still lives there.)

14.Luna's best friend is Emily while Trixie's best friend is a red macaque named Scarlett.

15.Scarlett is actually the daughter of Blossom's childhood friend, Mango(female toucan).

16.The ages of the kids: Luna(7), Trixie(5), Fuzzy(6), Cosmo(4), Emily(7), Bella(7), Charlie(5), Scarlett(5), Lucia(10), Kasumi(8), Petunia(6), Gilbert(5), Brucie(7), Crystal(4), Freddy Jr(9), Lolbit(9), Andrew(8), Mabel(10), Edwardo(8), Liam(6).

17. The jobs of the parents: Moondrop: Gymnastics instructor, Blossom: Real esate agent, Sundrop: Daycare attendant, Lulu: Software engineer, Willy: Animator, Lisa: Film director, Bonnie: Music teacher, Chica: Food critic, Mango: Surgeon, Frank(Scarlett's dad): Pet groomer, Tito: Guitarist, Toki: Wedding designer, Gus: Tour guide, Oakley: Activist, Cammy: Fashion designer, Arty: Artist, Sara: Florist, Knighty: Bodyguard, Freddy: Pizzeria owner, Paula: Yoga instructor, Foxy: Fish market owner, Vixen: Make-up artist, Ozzie: Pilot, Harold: Accountant, Roxanne: Racer, Katie: Game developer, El chip: Chef, Happyfrog: Babysitter.

18.Unlike her older sisters, Penny decided to not have kids because she believes that she doesn't have the patience needed to properly raise them.

19.Happyfrog has a little sister named Phoebe.(Pheobe has two daughters)

20.Just like Oswald, Happyfrog and Phoebe's mother, Dixie passed away before her grandchildren ever got to meet her.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Notes: Hello lovely people, once again I wanted to thank you for all your support I really appreciate it. This chapter is a shorter one and for that I apologize but it is needed in order to move us onto the next one. I wasn't sure if I was happy with this one but I hope I did it justice and it doesn't disappoint. Also I wanted to ask; how are readers feeling about the flashback chapters? Are we liking them or would the story be better without? And if you lovely readers do like the flashbacks; do anyone have any requests of what kind of FB you'd like in-between the main story?? Like maybe Joel and Ada's wedding day or Ellie going on her first date with Dina… or maybe a family get together or something?? I don't know, anyway please let me know. If people feel they pull you out the main story too much I'll stop doing them. Thanks again hope you enjoyed this chapters. Have a lovely day! <3 xx

Chapter Seventeen

From the moment Joel stepped inside the building he felt uncomfortable. He’d left Duke outside grazing on the overgrown street corners that were now more grass and trees than sidewalk. He’d felt wrong walking towards the hospital, his every sense in his body telling him to turn around. Go back. But despite his every instinct he somehow managed to push forward. The hospital was deathly silent and still. At times Joel had to wonder if that was a good thing or not. The only sounds he could hear were his own. The sound of his heavy boots scuffing against the old stained floor, his own breath echoing through the wall of quiet and lifelessness. He surprised himself as he made his way through the winding corridors and wards, it almost felt like he knew exactly where he was going. Though he supposed the more he thought about it; a part of him did. The sense of familiarity was overwhelming at times, to the point it made his head hurt. 

'Where are they?'  

'They’re safe…'      

That voice…he knew that voice didn’t he? It echoed through his head as his memories charged around in his mind, swirling back and forth till it made his ears ring. The sound of gunshots and heavy breathing. Shouts of orders and anger. Were they coming from him or someone else? 

He froze when he saw the large sign on the wall pointing the way to where he was heading. Pediatrics. He pushed through the set of double doors and the stale air hit him like a tidal wave. The once brightly painted walls of multi-coloured sail boats now faded and old with age. The long dark corridor hidden from the light of the sun by the blinds and sheets covering the windows. The ward's rooms were left cluttered with old medical equipment and blankets. He followed it further down towards the office that was now left bare and picked clean of all supplies. He noticed a pile of aging paper on the desk and moved to take a closer look. It looked like copies of brain scans and test results. 

'But it grows all over the brain' he heard himself say. 'It does', the ghost replied back. That all too familiar feeling of dread churned deep in the pit of his stomach. Joel felt a jolt travel down his arm as he threw the papers down back onto the desk. He felt like he’d been stung. A gasp of breath escaped him as he winced at the sharp shooting pain that burned across the back of his skull and split into a dull headache that he was all too sick of suffering from. The older man took a stumbled step back, almost losing his footing. Joel knew in that moment exactly where he was and what had happened here. This must’ve been the place he’d saved Ellie. His jaw clenched at the realisation, maybe Ada hadn’t been lying after all. But it still didn’t ease the pain of everything else that damn woman had done to him. Shrugging it off he continued out into the corridor and moved further down towards the final door in front of him. He didn’t miss the Firefly symbol spray painted on the wall by the door. But still Joel pushed on. As he stepped into the operating theatre his blood ran cold. Hackles raised and jaw clenched once again, he felt a rush of adrenaline course through him as his body seemed to relive whatever had happened in this room. His breath trembled as he continued to look around. More boxes marked by the Fireflies symbol, filled with equipment and blankets. Nothing that seemed to point to where the Fireflies could have moved on too though. Joel shivered against the chill that ran up his back; his clothes were still a little damp from the rain the night before. It had seemed that drying them before leaving Jackson’s outpost had proved not all that beneficial. The cold in the air didn’t help either. As he made his way around the room he felt eyes on him. The shadows moving in the corners of his eyes. The figures hiding in the depths of the darkness, silently judging him. Though for what he couldn't say. He was stopped in his pacing when he noticed the smeared blood stains in the floor under his boots. They were dried and old, from a few years ago at least, if not more. The more Joel stared at it the more he wondered whose it was. Had he been the cause? Had he been in a fight? Was it Ellie’s from when he’d saved her from whatever bad thing had happened here? 

He slumped against the wall and sighed in defeat. He was so sick of questions. Of not knowing the answers to his own past. It was becoming exhausting. Leaning back with his foot against the wall, Joel pushed away from it and strode out of the theatre and back into the office. He hastily looked through the draws and cabinets again, just in case he’d missed something. His luck turned as he fumbled through one of the old bookcases and came away with a scrapped piece of paper. 

Group 2- Eastern Colorado University- arrived three days ago, research papers to follow. 

Eastern Colorado University. That’s where the Fireflies must’ve traveled from to get to St Mary’s. Perhaps there were more clues as to their whereabouts. It wasn’t that far away. Two and half days on horseback at most, he estimated. With his mind made up he quickly made his way back out onto the street to tend to Duke, the horse nickering affectionately at the sight of his owner. Joel padded him on the neck with a kind smile as he kicked at the ashes of his campfire to put out the remaining embers, then pulled softly at the gelding’s reins as he clicked his teeth for the horse to walk on. He pulled himself back into the saddle with a dull grunt then kicked Duke in a gentle paced trot.

University of Eastern Colorado…’Go Bighorns’ Joel thought to himself sarcastically. Maybe there Joel would finally find the answers he was looking for. He gave another kick to push Duke on into a canter as they took off through the old broken roads and around the rusting and rotting cars that littered the streets; then back onto the freeway. He knew he had to pick up his pace before night fell, his dark eyes scanning every road sign until he found one that pointed the way to Colorado. Joel was so focused on the road signs, he failed to notice the twitching and the groans of the figures slowly creeping towards him as they dragged out their rotting bodies from under the cars. The screeches and clicks echoing through the wind. Duke’s shout of fear shattered the silence as more infected charged for horse and rider, their deformed claws and bony broken nails reaching out for flesh to scratch and hack. Joel had no time to react as he was pulled from his saddle. 

[aurora-by-jacqui-natla]

1. HUNTING SEASON

FOR A WHILE NOW, I HAD SPENT A considerable amount of time existing as a nocturnal being - a vampire. While this may appear as a tale plucked from the pages of a fantastical book, it was my actuality, a reality I couldn't escape.

It all started when I was just a seventeen year old, and my forever age. I had run away from my deadbeat father, Gavin Baxter, and my wicked werewolf stepmother, Dina Wyatt. I left behind my half-sister, Ayla Wyatt-Baxter, who was also a werewolf. At that time, I had no idea that they were also known as the Children of the Moon. I ran from Forks to Seattle, where I met my fate.

It was there that I was turned into a vampire named Victoria. I was then recruited into an army of revenge, with the sole purpose of killing one person - Bella Swan. The others perished, but I was spared, thanks to my invisibility. I also had the chance to lay my eyes on four members of the Volturi.

After that fateful day, I found myself in London, all thanks to Carlisle Cullen. It was there that I met the British Coven, also known as the Khotlers Family. Gabriel was the leader, with Joseph as his second-in-command and Simon as his third-in-command. They were all married, with Helena being Gabriel's wife, Rhona being Joseph's wife, and Alana being Simon's wife. Alana also had a son named Ethan, and Simon was his stepfather.

My life had taken a drastic turn, and I was now a part of a world that I never knew existed. But I was ready to embrace it, for better or for worse.

Months had passed since I was welcomed into my new family, and I had learned so much about them. But nothing could have prepared me for the invitation I received to attend the wedding of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan. And yes, I was going to the wedding of a girl I had once planned to kill.

As I mingled with the other guests, I found myself meeting a vampire coven from Denali. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of the craziness that was about to unfold.

My childhood friend, Jacob Black, had become a shapeshifter and was now a wolf. I couldn't shake the feeling that he had disowned me because of my vampire status. And then there was Seth Clearwater, another shapeshifter who had imprinted on my sister and was hopelessly in love with her.

But things took a turn for the worse when Seth received a phone call from Dina and ended up fighting at Forks High School. It was then that I discovered the existence of the Children of the Moon. And that's when my own power was unleashed - I could project a purple aura force field out of myself. Thankfully, no one was hurt.

I was unconscious for two days after the incident, according to Carlisle and Helena. That was when I learnt about two things. One, I was a vampire maxima, meaning that I had more powers compared to a standard vampire; I was a rare kind according to Eleazar. And two, I had the Lunaris mark, a bite mark from a Child of the Moon, acting like a target on my back, given to me by father dearest. I also learned that Ayla had moved into the Clearwater family home and I had returned to my family in London.

It had been almost a month since that fateful day, and I've decided to take on the surname 'Khotler'. It was a new chapter in my life, and I was excited to see where it took me.

As I approached the tree where I had placed my hand earlier, I slowed down and crouched behind it. The cool air still brushed against my body, but now my senses were heightened. My muscles were ready to pounce at any moment. I waited patiently for the deers to show up, my eyes scanning the woods for any sign of movement.

But as the minutes ticked by, I realised that I had been too still for too long. I needed to move, to work on my hunting skills. Yet, the dawn had already begun to lighten the woods, and I felt powerless against the rising sun. It was as if the sun had a hold on me, dragging me into the day against my will.

Thankfully, the shadows in the woods were my allies. They hid me from everyone and everything, giving me the power to blend in with my surroundings. But even with this advantage, I knew that I couldn't stay still forever.

So, with a deep breath, I stood up and stretched my limbs. My joints and legs had been pleasantly awakened by the cool air and the stillness of the woods. I had been in the woods for three hours, but I had nothing to show for it. Or so I thought.

Suddenly, my nose caught a scent. Deers. My senses advanced as I took off in pursuit. It was a peculiar sensation, the balance between speed and clarity. I rocketed over, under, and through the thick jade maze at a rate that should have reduced everything around me to a streaky green blur. But instead, I could see each tiny leaf on all the small branches of every insignificant shrub that I passed.

As I approached the deers, I slowed down and crouched behind a tree. My muscles were ready to attack, but I needed to be patient. I waited for the perfect moment, my eyes fixed on the deers as they grazed in the clearing.

And then, with a sudden burst of energy, I pounced. My muscles were like coiled springs, propelling me forward with incredible force. The deers scattered in all directions, but I was too quick for them. In a matter of seconds, I had caught my prey.

I stood there, triumphant, and I realised that my hunting skills had improved. I had learned to be patient, to wait for the perfect moment, and to trust my instincts. And as the cool air brushed against my body once again, I knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be - in the heart of the woods, surrounded by nature and all its wonders.

I raced through the forest, my raven black hair and jacket billowed behind me like a dark flag of freedom. The wind was a warm embrace against my skin, defying the laws of nature and logic. The forest floor, rough and unforgiving, should have felt like hot coals beneath my feet, but instead it was as soft as cotton. The branches that whipped against my skin should have left angry welts, but instead they felt like the gentle caress of feathers.

The forest was alive in a way I had never known. Tiny creatures, hidden in the leaves and underbrush, teemed with life and energy. They grew silent as I passed, their fear palpable in the air. It was as if they knew something I didn't, as if they were wiser than I could ever hope to be.

But despite the fear that surrounded me, I felt invincible. My breath came effortlessly, my muscles burning with a strength I had never known. My leaps stretched longer, my bounds more powerful. My feet barely touched the ground, and it felt more like flying than running.

The wind of my speed carried me forward, a force of nature that defied all logic and reason. And as I raced through the forest, I knew that I was alive in a way that few people ever experience.

As I stood there, surrounded by the symphony of nature, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. The whisper of birds preening their feathers in the treetops was like a lullaby, their fluttering heartbeats a reminder of the fragility of life. The maple leaves scraping together created a soothing melody, while the faint clicking of ants following each other in a long line up the bark of the nearest tree was like a secret code.

But I knew there was something else I was meant to hear. Something that would set my heart racing and my senses on high alert. So I let my ears range outward, seeking a different sound than the small hum of life that surrounded me.

And then I heard it. The wind had a different sound across the exposed grass, and there was a small creek nearby with a rocky bed. And there, near the noise of the water, was the unmistakable sound of lapping tongues and thudding hearts.

I found them. Three, no, four. And there was a baby one too.

I closed my eyes and listened, breathing in the scent of the nearby water. Another bout of baking thirst intruded on my awareness, but the warm odour wasn't quite so objectionable anymore. At least it would be something hot and wet in my desiccated mouth.

My eyes snapped open, and I knew what I had to do. I couldn't think about it, I just had to follow my instincts. And so I set off towards the sound of the lapping tongues and thudding hearts, ready to quench my thirst and satisfy my hunger.

I surrendered myself to the intoxicating aroma, allowing it to guide me as I glided effortlessly down the slope towards the narrow meadow where the stream flowed. My body moved with a fluid grace, my senses attuned to every subtle shift in the air. As I approached the edge of the trees, I felt my body instinctively shift into a low crouch, my eyes fixed on the majestic buck with two dozen antler points, drinking from the stream.

My focus narrowed, centring around the hot spot in the buck's shaggy neck where the scent pulsed strongest. I could feel the energy building within me, my muscles coiled and ready to spring. But just as I was about to make my move, the wind shifted, blowing stronger from the south. Without hesitation, I changed course, hurtling out of the trees in a new direction, chasing after a new fragrance that beckoned me with irresistible force.

The scent ruled me completely, driving me forward with a single-minded determination. I was aware only of the thirst that consumed me, and the promise of relief that lay ahead. As I raced through the forest, my senses ablaze with the heady aroma, I knew that there was no turning back. I was compelled to follow the scent, wherever it might lead me.

As my eyes flickered open, my senses were already on high alert. I sprang up, my body poised for action, and darted eastward with a silent grace. The ground rose steeply before me, but I was undeterred. I ran with a hunter's crouch, my body low to the earth, leaping nimbly from tree to tree when the terrain allowed.

I could sense my prey, moving quietly through the woods, and I led the way with a fierce determination. The scent grew stronger with each passing moment, a warm and alluring aroma that set my senses ablaze. And then, I heard it - the muted padding of immense feet, so much subtler than the crunch of hooves.

The soft thud of hooves continued stealthily beneath me now; the rich scent was almost overwhelming. And then, I saw them - a family of deer, perfect for my own family's needs. Without hesitation, I launched myself at them, my teeth bared and my claws extended.

It was a swift and effortless attack. The deer didn't fight back, nor did they attempt to hide from me. It was as easy as biting into a piece of chocolate. My teeth were like steel razors, slicing through fur and fat and sinew with ease. One by one, I took them down, my body moving with a fluid grace that was both beautiful and deadly.

The taste was exquisite, the blood a warm and wet elixir that quenched my insatiable thirst. I drank with a fervour, savouring every drop as the deer's struggles grew weaker and their screams silenced into a gurgling choke. The heat of the blood spread through my veins, warming even my fingertips and toes.

As the deer's life ebbed away, my thirst was finally satiated. I tossed their lifeless bodies into a pile, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over me.

With a swift motion, I hoisted the pile of carcasses onto my shoulder, feeling the weight of my first solo hunt. As I stood, I realised I was a mess, my face and clothing stained with the blood of my prey. I wiped my face on the back of my arm and attempted to fix my torn jeans, the hooves of the deer having made their mark.

But a smooth and velvety voice interrupted my hunt. "Hello, flower."

I turned around and took a glance at a figure standing five feet away from me. "Hello, Shadow Man."

Joseph's brother, Ingram, stood next to a tree with his hands in his pockets of his black suit jacket, and I realised there was a silver pocket chain on his left side: either a pocket watch or just an accessory. He wore a dark burgundy suit jacket with a dark purple waistcoat and tie. Sitting on his shoulder was his pet raven — who I had named Lenore — and she squawked at me as if she was happy to see me. I gave her a little smile, returning my silent greeting.

I called him 'Shadow Man' due to his unique ability to control, manipulate shadows as well as creating things from them. Lenore was one of his creations.

I threw my food down to the ground, my golden gazes focused on his presence.

"You look like you've had a productive afternoon," Ingram observed, his crimson eyes scanning the mess I'd made.

I raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was mocking me or merely stating a fact. "Just honing my skills," I replied, trying to keep my tone light. "What brings you out here?"

Ingram's eyes gleamed with a knowing look. "I was just strolling through the woods and then I saw you."

I regarded Ingram warily, his presence unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. He had always had an air of mystery about him, a darkness that both intrigued and unsettled me.

"And what do you think of my hunting skills?" I asked, a hint of defiance in my voice.

He stepped closer, the crunch of leaves under his polished shoes the only sound in the stillness of the forest. Lenore shifted slightly, her black eyes fixed on me. Ingram stopped just a few feet away, his gaze intense.

"You've certainly improved," he said, his voice smooth. "But there's always room for —."

"If it's about switching the deers for humans then," I cut him off, not wanting to entertain the idea. "No, Ingram. I told you, I don't feed on humans. That's not who I am."

Ingram's expression softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in his otherwise impenetrable demeanor. "I know, Violet. And I respect that. But it's not just about what you hunt—it's about how you control your power."

I looked at him, sensing the gravity of his words. There was more to this conversation than mere hunting techniques. "What do you mean?"

Ingram took a step back, casting a glance at the setting sun that painted the horizon with hues of orange and pink. "I've seen what you can do, Violet. Your abilities are extraordinary, even among vampires. But power without control can be dangerous. You need to master it, fully. Only then can you protect yourself—and those you care about."

I let out a sigh. "If you're really worried about my powers, you don't have to. I literally got it under control."

Ingram's gaze softened further, and he smiled slightly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm not questioning your capabilities, Violet. I'm simply here to help you reach your full potential."

There was something in his tone that made me pause, a sincerity I hadn't expected. Maybe it was time to listen, to truly understand what he was offering. "Fine, Shadow Man. Teach me, then."

He nodded, pleased with my response. "Good. We start now."

Without another word, Ingram gestured for me to follow him. We moved through the forest in silence, the only sound being the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. As we walked, I found myself thinking about the life I had left behind, the family I had lost, and the new one I was trying to build. It was a confusing mess, but somehow, I felt a sense of clarity begin to emerge.

Ingram led me to a clearing, the moon now high in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape. "This place," he began, "is where I come to practice. The isolation, the stillness—it helps me focus."

I looked around, feeling the tranquility of the spot seep into my bones. "So, what's the plan?"

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes, and as he did, the shadows around us began to stir, shifting and coalescing into dark, almost tangible shapes. "Your power," he said, "is rooted in your emotions. You need to learn to control them, to channel them into something constructive."

I watched, fascinated, as the shadows obeyed his silent command, forming intricate patterns and shapes before dissipating into the night. "How do I do that?"

He opened his eyes and met my gaze. "By understanding yourself. By confronting your fears, your desires, and using them to fuel your abilities. It's not about suppression—it's about harnessing them."

I nodded, trying to absorb his words. It sounded almost impossible, but then again, so had everything about my life since becoming a vampire. "Alright. Show me how."

Ingram took a step back, giving me space. "Close your eyes and breathe. Feel the energy inside you, the power that's waiting to be unleashed."

I did as he instructed, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I could feel a warm pulse in my core, an energy that was both frightening and exhilarating. "I can feel it," I whispered.

"Good," he said softly. "Now, let it flow through you. Don't fight it. Embrace it."

The warmth spread, filling my entire being with a purple glow that emanated from within. I could sense the shadows around me responding, swirling in anticipation. "What now?"

"Now," Ingram's voice was calm, guiding, "let it out. But with purpose. Visualize what you want to create, what you want to achieve."

I focused, imagining the protective barrier I had formed before, the purple aura force field. I felt it grow, expanding and solidifying around me, a tangible manifestation of my will. The shadows around us seemed to pulse in response, as if acknowledging my newfound control.

When I opened my eyes, Ingram was smiling. "You did it."

I looked around, seeing the barrier shimmering faintly in the moonlight. "I did."

Ingram stepped closer, his expression one of approval and pride. "This is just the beginning, Violet. There's so much more you can do. But remember, it's not just about power—it's about balance."

I nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "Thank you, Ingram."

He inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment. "You're welcome. Now, let's continue."

And so we did, the night stretching on as Ingram guided me through the intricacies of my power. With each passing moment, I felt more in control, more confident in my abilities. The forest, once a place of solitude and reflection, had become my training ground, my sanctuary.

After saying my farewell to Ingram and Lenore, I picked up the lifeless deers and ran back to my home.

[harleiquina]

The Cursed prince

A Snowhite retelling.

I've been thinking about this for a while, and as any writer can tell you: the best ideas come in the most unexpected times (in this case I woke up at 4 & something in the morning because my dogs needed to do their bussiness, and I just couldn't go back to sleep. So now at 5:22 I mentally finished this version of the story that was nothing more than an idea for the past few months). Enjoy! Because I know that I'll hate myself when I'll get sleepy at work later today.

So it was true.

Since birth he was destined to lose everyone he ever loved. His mother was the first one, the very same day he gave his first breath. He couldn't even see her once.

His father followed, a few years later. He was kind and warm but strict, as all kings should be. He loved his son but wanted to be sure that the power of their bloodline would never get on his head. What kind of king could that kid become if all of his wildest dreams were granted to him? The child needed limits, so the father gave him exactly that. He was an exceptional man.

Then came Father Solar. The King asked in his death bed for his son to be raised in the monastery that his family build, to have the best education he could have and learn how to be a man on God. All the priests there were dedicated to their task, but Father Solar would let the kid be a child, climbing trees, going fishing, running through the fields and playing with marbles (he taught the prince the most impresive tricks with them behind the other monks' backs). After his death, the prince, now a young man, went to his castle trying to leave the pain behind and to "grow up".

Many friends (because thats what they were, not just soldiers) died in foreing lands, sometimes in battle, others by believed-to-be friendly hands and others in minor incidents where, in a ironic twist of fate, they were trying to avoid any kind of conflict.

Many of his servants, that took care of him, like the cook that always made him smile when he needed it the most also died. Everybody tried to convince him that they were old and nature took it's course but then how could anyone explain that her little daughter, a child that the prince thought of as the little sister he never had, just never woke up without explanation?

The prince was more and more convinced that he was cursed. And now he had the worst reminder of it.

A year ago or so, he had to go to a neighbouring kingdom to participate in the wedding of the king, a long friend of his father. He was marrying for the second time, many thought that it was too soon, to a younger woman whose great beauty was a little suspicious to folks who believed her to be a witch or an evil wooden sprite under a glamour spell.

The prince got easily bored next to the other royals next to him that doubled his age (or even tripled it!) and kept on telling the same stories over and over again with more and more details as the wine began to flow. And then he saw her, the king's daughter, a lovely young girl almost his age with raven hair that made her look extremely pale. People called her Snowhite but he thought that it was a poor choice of a name because her smile alone was as warm as a summer breeze.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was graceful, kind and smart enough to get one of her father's friends to back track a statement he made about his people's labour. She noticed the prince and every time she caught him looking at her, she'd smile as an invitation to join her. But he would turn and walk away.

Yet she was decided to breach that distance, so she asked him to dance. He tried to refuse but as soon as their hands touched, the wall that he was building between them fell apart.

The world disappeared when she was in his arms and so did any kind of fear he felt about losing her. They looked each other in the eyes and inside of hers he saw the possibility of having a future, a family, happiness at last. His entire existence was bound to hers, he could feel himself turning his own life, body and soul so she could do with them as she pleased. He was brought back to reality by her touch, she was concerned, wiping away a tear from his eyes. He apologized and left the party, the castle and country altogether.

A few months later came a letter requiring him to go back to that kingdom for a funeral, his heart was already breaking before he could read that it was the king's. He felt bad for his relieved sigh and the small joy of finding out that she was safe. At least for now.

The solemnity of the ceremony didn't helped with his constant dread. But how could he try to ignore her when she looked absolutely destroyed and alone? Without a word they hugged and she broke down in tears in the safety of his arms. They walked through the gardens to clear their minds. If there was anything he had enough experience about it was pain and how to deal with it. She asked him to come back to visit, he couldn't refuse and both promise to write each other whenever needed.

He returned a few months later, the queen gave him all kinds of attentions but he couldn't see where his friend was. His host tried to tempt him to join her to a hunting trip, or to watch a play, or read next to the fire but he didn't cared about those things so he said that the travel left him exhausted and needed some rest. Of course, instead of going to his room, he wandered through the palace until he saw her. She was dressed in rags like the servants, carrying a sack of flour to the kitchen. She tried to calm him down, it wasn't that bad for her... she always helped as much as she could in the castle, this wasn't new and she would prove it in the kitchen where she baked a delicious cake for them to eat. He still believed that it wasn't fair to her to live in those conditions, but she reassured him that the pain of her father's death made her realized that she needed a change. He wondered how much of that she thought herself and how much of it were her stepmother's words.

He came back many times and tried not to take too much time between his visits. The queen would always try to keep him busy but he always found a way to explore the forest with his Northern Star as he started to call the princess because the shine of her eyes and the contrast of her hair and skin reminded him of a starry night, and he would always follow her to feel like he was at home again.

Then, one day, she was nowhere to be found. The servants were too afraid to speak and the Queen ignored all of his questions. He left the castle and went to the forest to the place they both called their kingdom, where all secrets were kept like that first kiss by the oldest oak tree under the summer rain. She was there, waiting who knows for how long and held him tight while tears flooded her eyes. She told him that the queen was jealous, that expelled her from the castle and promised to punish anyone that wanted to help her. He offered to take her with him, to keep her safe, to be her loving husband and leave everything behind. But this time she refused, she knew about the queen's intentions towards him and couldn't risk starting a war. She assured him that she was well taken care of and that one day, when everything calmed down, she would go with him and never again part ways. It was a bittersweet goodbye, with the softest kiss that would've torn apart even the bravest of all souls.

He rejected any invitation and letter from the queen, as well as her delegations with presents. She even dared to try to reach him through other kingdoms, yet the response was always the same.

One night he woke up with a fear he hadn't felt in years. A premonition. The storm outside of his window darkened his troubled heart and decided to ride to meet his Northen Star again before anything could happen. He had to save her. He could not afford to lose her.

The wind and the water seemed to be against him, forcing him to take the longest road. Rivers were overflooded, the mud didn't let his horse move, trees were plucked out of the soil as easy as any other weed at hands of a gardener.

With the early morning lights, the storm started to fade away but he was still too far from her. His journey continued, he had no time to rest or eat.

And then he arrived.

It was too late.

His knees failed him, kneeling in the mud he cannot stop looking at her in a bed of flowers. Even through his tears she looked as if she was just sleeping pacefully under the morning sun. The townspeople were saying their goodbyes to their princess. Some recognized him and shared his pain, but there's nothing else to be done. If the rumours are true, the queen found a way to poison her and there is no antidote that could help now.

"What have I done? Is my existence such an offense to this world that I do not deserve to be loved? Life, what have I done to you? Why do you keep on taking innocent lives instead of mine? What kind if cruel game are you playing with me? Why her? She's done nothing to you, unless giving me a reason to believe that you are beautiful is a sin that can only be cleansed by death. Earth was greener, the air sweeter and the sun warmer with her alive. What do I have to do? Lock myself in my castle out of sight and wait to the end of my days, just living off the memory of her lips in mine? Answer at once! I beg you..."

People stared at him but just one old woman came to help him get back on his feet.

"My dear boy, I'm sorry. None of this was meant to happen if I followed the rules... but when you spend so much time among your kind as I did it's almost impossible not to get soft" her voice was kind and she was fixing his clothes like a mother would.

"Who are you?" he asked while she was cleaning his face.

"My name is long forgotten and humanity decided that I am two: Life and Death. But it's only me. I take care of both tasks, maybe it would've been easier if I was two different people" she grabbed his arm and guide him to a rock so they could sit and talk. "And that's why it all began. The night you were born, you were supposed to die but I knew that your parents wanted a child more than anything. They've tried many times and after your death, your mother would've never gotten pregnant again. They were very nice, loved by everyone and always put others first. They deserved a gift, a baby as they always wanted... even if that meant that someone else had to take his place in the Afterlife. Your father understood it, once he held you in his arms, that it wasn't your fault, that you were too precious to be blamed for your mother's death. So he loved you even more than you can imagine. However, consecuences come when things don't go the right way. Your parents and friends would've lived longer if you didn't existed, yes, but that doesn't mean that they died because of you... is the course of destiny, it's just that the dates were readjusted. In her case, you extended her life. If you didn't take her for a walk on her father's funeral, she would've gone straight into her bedroom where the queen would've killed her to make it look like a suicide. Her stepmother couldn't try anything later because she had many guests to attend but every single time that something bad was about to happen, a memory of you made her take a different decision... another road... another fate. But as I said, dates get readjusted, they are never erased. The Evil Queen got her anyway. Such a pity." The prince didn't felt any better "You are not cursed, my dear. You are blessed, you are the strongest testimony that life is a gift that should not be squandered. So live, and share your life with those that make it worthwhile." The woman caressed his hair and walked away. life is a gift that should not be squandered. So live, and share your life with those that make it worthwhile." The woman caressed his hair and walked away.

He stood there watching the others crying and leaving flowers, even if the pain was cutting deep they were not feeling it as bad as he. People would go back to their homes, move foward with their lives and eventually let it go. But not him.

He took some courage and got closer to her. He took her hand, kissed it and pressed it against his face. This time she couldn't wipe his tears like before.

"Life is a gift that shouldn't be squandered... but I only wanted to share it with you" he said before kissing her lips for the last time. Still with his eyes closed he pressed his forehead with hers and sighed. He tought that the morning breeze was fooling him pretending to be her breath he could even hear her voice in it. "You came back" she said, like every time they met again. He started to cry but his tears were stopped by a hand. He opened his eyes and saw her smiling at him. "You came back" he answered before lifting her in his arms and kissing her again.