Summary: You had spent 23 years living up to the nickname your family gave you at birth: Stormy. Grumpy and moody throughout your entire life, your teenage stepsister didn’t do anything to make it better, in fact only making it worse. Until your father forced you to bring her back home from her boyfriend’s house, in which one of the various older men catches your eye and entirely reroutes your life.
Warnings: protective older sister!reader, cursing, suggestive language, age gap talk
Already irritated and annoyed after a six-hour shift at the office, where it felt like everyone made it their mission to ask stupid shit, you huffed out an angry sigh as you read your dad’s texts.
Dad: Need your help, no backing out.
Dad: Find Nicky and bring her home. Probably at her boyfriend’s. She’ll only listen to you.
You relax your head against the head rest for a moment, trying to build up the will to listen to your father.
You: Fine. But you owe me a shopping spree.
You: And coffee every morning for a week.
Dad: Sure thing. Thank you storm.
You park your car in the impressive driveway, turning off the blaring music. Climbing out of the car, you wait for the gates to open. Once they do, you waste no time talking to the woman and man in front of you.
“Nicky here?” You ask, directed more towards the older looking woman. She responds, voice raspy, “Yes. I’m sorry who are you?”
You answer with just your name, brushing past them hastily. Your way-too-tight skirt makes it difficult to walk, forcing your legs closer, but that doesn’t stop the quick sounds of your heels clicking on the floor.
You welcome yourself into their home easily, walking through the open door like you’ve been here a million times. Walking through the house with the pair from earlier on your heels, you open as many doors as possible until you reach a bedroom that occupied your sister.
She scoffs at the sight of you. “Come on, Nicky. Time to go home.” You say in a fake pouty voice. She rolls her eyes, pulling her arm away from your grasp. “Are you fucking serious, Storm?”
You huff out a laugh, even though you find nothing silly. “Yeah I’m fucking serious. You haven’t been home in forever. How do you think dad will feel when he finds out you’ve been sleeping with your boyfriend every night for the past week!”
She stands, pushing you to try to knock you off balance after noticing your heels. Fortunately for you, you’ve been wearing heels since you could practically walk. Unfortunately for you, she continues to fight back. “Oh so now you’re slut shaming me? Good going!”
“Well if the shoe fits! And apparently, it does!” Cutting off your argument, the woman from before puts herself between you two. “Girls, let’s calm down. I still have yet to figure out who you are, let alone what you want.” She says towards you.
“It’s not obvious? I’m her sister and her dad wants her home. Now.” Before the two of you could start fighting again, which didn’t take much, you start to speak again. “And who are you, actually? I think it’s only fair to know who’s been letting teenagers have unsupervised sleepovers every goddamn night!”
The woman sighs, placing her hand on your shoulder. She does a good job at trying to seem like a welcoming person, you’ll give her that, but you still don’t feel warm towards her.
“You’re absolutely right. My names Smurf, this is my son Craig.” She speaks up again after a moment of silence and angry glares. “How about this, your family can join us for dinner tonight. 6:30, we’ll get to know each other more. Sound good?”
You think it over for a moment before giving a relenting sigh, closing your eyes briefly. “Sure, fine. I’ll see if dad’ll be alright with that. But if you put me in deep shit Nicky I swear to god…”
She puts her hands up in surrender, lying back on the bed as you’re escorted out of the house.
It took a lot to convince your parents that the dinner was a good idea, you even had to give up the shopping spree you were promised. But it worked after a while, so here you were, sitting next to your stepmom as your light yellow sundress flowed softly thanks to the breeze.
You stayed stiffly polite, eating what was put on your plate and not speaking to withhold from another outburst at your sister. You wouldn’t admit it, but you cared for her, didn’t want to see her hurt.
After your father finished up boring everyone with his military talk, Smurf reached over to you, running her fingers through your hair. “I wasn’t thinking about this earlier, but you have such long hair. Thick too.”
You smile softly, slightly uncomfortable at the feeling of multiple fingers combing your hair as your mom jumped in on the conversation, talking about how lucky she was to have a stepdaughter with such gorgeous hair to do.
Before the remarriage conversation could start, the front door slams shut, notifying every one of a new arrival. Smurf clicks her tongue with a slight laugh, “That must be Pope. He probably forgot we have guests over.”
You catch of glimpse of him as he walks, or rather stomps, through the house before coming outside after a few quiet minutes. His stoic and stiff stance would be off putting to some, but you were more focused on his features. The worry lines spread across his forehead, deep hazel eyes, freckles scattered along scarred skin like stars in the sky.
Smurf takes it into her own hands to introduce your family to him, saving your name for last. “But we like to call her Stormy, something along the lines. Been dark and gloomy ever since birth.” Your dad shares, perking up at the chance to talk about you.
Your stepmother, as the kind, soft woman she is, encourages him to join the table, making you scoot down the bench to make space for him next to you.
“Oh he’s not the social kind.” Smurf speaks, but her words fall short as he fills the spot next to you, trying to seem normal to your family.
“I uh, I like your tattoo.” He says quietly, gesturing toward your back. Your parents laugh at the story behind it, waiting for you to share.
“Got it during my rebellious teenager period. They said no but I got it done anyway. Nothing too crazy though, right. Just the sun and the ocean. But they freaked out like I had tattooed someone’s name on my arm.” You exaggerate slightly, trying to make it seem funnier than it truly was.
Something inside you made you want to look cool and attractive. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, you had embarrassed yourself trying to fulfill that when you were younger, but it wasn’t expected in the moment.
As the night dragged on, you found yourself gravitating towards the awkward man beside you, touching his knee lightly for a few seconds before pulling away every now and then, stealing secret glances, laughing a bit too loudly at the jokes he made.
It got to such a point that everyone had noticed. After you spent a bit too long talking directly to him, Nicky decided to speak. “Jesus, flirt with him any more will you? Practically eye fucking him in front of all of us.” She grunts, her objective clear as she tries to embarrass you.
Your father drops his fork before picking it up again, your mom kicking her leg underneath the table. “I’m sorry, Nick, I thought you didn’t want me telling dad about that Saturday when-.”
She cuts you off quickly, “Alright, alright. I’ll shut up.” You excuse yourself to the bathroom, gaining directions from Smurf and heading inside.
Instead of using it for its actual purpose, you lean against the sink in the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. “You’re too young.”
The voice startles you, heightening your nerves for a second before they come back down. You turn your head to look at him, not being able to pull away from his eyes.
“Not saying that you’re like…you know…ugly. Cause you’re not, that’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just that you can’t be more than 25 and I’m 35 so that’s like 12 years-.”
You chuckle as he rants, speaking up once you’ve had enough. “I’ve been with older.” You admit casually, checking in the mirror to make sure your cheeks aren’t too red.
He steps closer, having to bow his head down to look at you properly. “‘m not so sure you’d be able to handle it, sweetheart.” His voice, deep and low, draws you in closer, your hands crawling up his chest.
“Guess you’ll just have to find out then, huh?” You whisper, biting your lower lip gently as you brush your hand against his clothed dick lightly, making your way out of the bathroom.
