#harry potter better than twilight

[gettingnutsfromsquirrels]

[anteroom-of-death]

I may have been a pathetic little twilight bitch and all, but at least our horribly problematic writer is in a cult that controls her and shut up promptly after getting the bag....

[the-stars-sigh-when-i-get-high]

fuck marry kiss!! problematic fandom edition: voldemort, edward cullen, john winchester

😂

You’re gonna have to do better than that to get me to flinch or cringe bebe✨

I’d fuck Moldyshorts, marry Edweird & kiss John Winchester

[embystarr-blog]

I'll never understand people who get angry about others changing characters and making them "better people".

Like, why is it bad to change a horrible villain into a morally grey antihero? Canon already exists and it's valid, we can all see and agree that in canon a character is unsalvageable.

But why can't we explore other alternatives? It's just fanfic. There's this puritanism around problematic characters (or downright badly written ones) that just... Gets to me. People keep associating liking certain characters with supporting certain values, and sometimes it's just curiosity.

What if Draco Malfoy wasn't horrible? What if Dracula could actually love? What if the Darkling hadn't gone insane by the time Alina comes along? What if Tommy Shelby got help before the PTSD became too much?

I WANT TO KNOW ALL THE WHAT IFS.

And the reverse too. What if Harry Potter became the ultimate villain? What if Ron actually never got back to Harry? What if Mina Harker became a vampire? What if Alina went down the evil pathway into the Darkling's arms?

Please just let people explore characters however they want. Canon is there and it will be there forever.

[itsharleystuff]

↳ II. 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘝𝘖𝘐𝘋

Read part one here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k (once again, I’m sorry)

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your steamy encounter with Joel during your homecoming party, things between you have been stagnant. Although, fate seems to be on your side when both Sarah and your dad have to leave town for a short while.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, p in v sex, Joel hits it from behind, blowjobs, some teasing, a bit of spanking, pet names (darling, sweetheart, honey), unprotected sex (pls do not attempt), cum eating, taking nsfw photos, Joel tries to be dom but fails, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), reader is kind of a brat, fluff and feelings (yes, this is a warning), alcohol consumption, brief mention of family death. Barely edited, sorryyy. No use of y/n.

—A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone but I suggest reading the previous part for a better understanding. Btw, there’s a couple of Easter eggs from the game in this! Also— I tried making a moodboard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ll probably stick to gifs in the future, lol.

“I like Indiana Jones," you babble, taking a sip from your coffee without looking at anyone in specific. "I was twelve and in love with Harrison Ford..."

"Okay, so that's one movie we're definitely not going to watch." Sarah chimes in, lazily chewing on her scrambled eggs. "How do you feel about Robert Pattinson?"

"That depends," you reply, moving your head side to side in a contemplative manner, "are we talking twilight or Harry Potter?"

You hear your dad snort on the other side of the table and see Joel chuckling beside him. Sarah crosses both arms over her chest and raises a brow at them. “What's so funny?"

"Nothing," your dad clears his throat and side-eyes his friend. "Just thought you two were a bit old for those crappy vampire movies. Maybe watch-"

"Forgive me, but I don't think it's a good idea to take recommendations from either of you," you cut him off, leaning back on your chair. "You're both obsessed with die hard, think The Godfather is incredibly complex and in your spare time watch construction programs. We'll be fine on our own."

"Touché..."

It's been three weeks since your homecoming party, and ever since then it has become a habit to have breakfast together every weekend. Today, Saturday, it was the Miller's turn to cook, which consequently had you and your father sitting at their table. As of now, you and Sarah were discussing your movie night, which had to be postponed due to her road-trip to San Antonio— apparently, she and her friend Ellie were going to visit some college campuses there.

It's also been three weeks since that little, hot encounter you and Joel had in your kitchen. And, contrary to your better judgement, both of you were more than eager to spend some extra time alone. Things since then had been uneasy, specially when being surrounded by others; always worried that someone might notice those stolen looks you'd share or sense the palpable tension that rose when you would stand too close to each other.

You try not to think about it. Except when you do. A swirl of memories would come flooding your mind in the most inappropriate moments, creating that heat that made you remember exactly how his fingers felt inside you, his tongue between your folds, the sloppy kisses and that feral, hungry look in his eyes while eating you out, touching you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"How about pride and prejudice?" the girl wonders, standing up to clean her dishes and snapping you back to reality.

"Shit, I love period dramas!" your dad shoots you a reproachful glare at your language, but you chose to ignore it. "As a matter of fact, most of my designs are inspired by the Victorian and regency eras."

"Oh, yeah," Sarah recalls, "I remember I read about it in one of your blogs. Dad showed it to me, by the way..." Joel clears his throat loudly, making her giggle.

Although she had mentioned it before, it was still kind of weird that he acknowledged your work. At first you thought it was merely because he wanted to connect with you somehow, but lately he'd been asking if he could see your new sketches and would let you borrow some old magazines he had around the house. Your best friend, Sophie, mentioned he might've been trying to show his interest in you subconsciously. And she was that one psychic friend who believed in zodiac signs and angel numbers, so you decided to believe her.

In that moment, your dad receives an incoming call on his cellphone; he excuses himself and heads to the living room. Your eyes lock with Joel's, and the fact that he was uninhibitedly staring back at you drew a smug smile on your face.

"Are you interested in fashion, Mr. Miller?" he sulks out a dry 'no', but you could see him fidget with his watch nervously. "Pity. I thought maybe you could model some of my male designs."

Sarah genuinely cracks up at your comment, slapping one hand on the table. "You want dad to pose for you? Seriously?"

"Why not? I brought my Polaroid camera, I can get some very nice shots." You were partially joking, but deep down you just wanted to see how he'd react.

"I mean, I know dad's got his charm with women, or so they keep saying-"

"No way anyone says that," he rambles.

"But the idea of him modeling is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

The fact was that you didn't want to take pictures of him so anyone else could see them. You wanted them exclusively for yourself. A couple of naughty Polaroids to keep around for whenever you were aching for him —which has been nearly every fucking night since your arrival—.

"It was a silly idea," you finally agree, shrugging. Joel stands to take his things to the sink. "Do you really have to leave for the weekend? You're like, my only friend here."

"Uh, about that..." she leans in towards you and you can practically smell a scheme on her. "Would you be mad if I gave your number to someone?"

You can quite literally feel the man standing behind you tense up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, like... To a guy." She moves in her place, but there's still no answer from you. "He's my English teacher. His name is Will and he's super smart, young, really funny and very handsome, I might add. I believe he can be your new male model." Sarah adds that last bit with a grin.

When you turn your head to see Joel, there was a deep scowl etching on his face, his body remaining still as a stone.

"I don't know... As friends, maybe." You weren't sure why, but the idea of meeting anyone new didn't really sound appealing.

She opened her mouth to say something but before she could actually do so, your dad walked in again. He appeared upset, gesturing nonsense and muttering impassively.

"What's wrong?" your tone comes out concerned.

"I have a meeting in Boston," he sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder apologetically. "Apparently it's urgent and I have to catch the next flight if I want to be there by nightfall."

"Oh, don't worry," you smile at him warmly. "I understand. Besides, I'm an adult. I can manage a weekend by myself."

He nods, still seemingly aloof. "I know but- I just wanted to spend some more time with you."

And of course you wanted that too, but saying it out loud could literally bring him to quit his job. He was always very extreme when it came down to you.

"What time d’you leave?" his friend asks him.

"Half past four. Why?"

"I can drop Sarah off at Ellie's and then drive you to the airport, if you'd like." Such a caring friend, Joel Miller. So selfless. Helping your dad out, attending his daughter's every special need...

"Yeah, thanks a lot, man. Take care of my little girl while I'm away."

You see his eyes gleam with a mix of unknown emotions, "Will do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The last few days had been no less than torment for Joel. Each moment that went by in which he didn't get a chance to be near you had him losing his mind. Badly. And it wasn't necessarily a physical thing— not always, at least.

Every morning, he would wake up and go to work, knowing for certain that when he comes back home he'll find you hanging around with Sarah or sitting out on your porch with a sketching notebook on your lap.

He liked to guess what you'd be doing.

Would you be playing board games with his daughter? Watching a movie or baking desserts? Maybe you were thrift shopping with your dad or simply going to the mall. And later on, when he finally gets to see you again, you'd tell him all about it.

Joel also liked to imagine what kind of clothes you'd be wearing. One thing he noticed is that you never stick to one particular style or aesthetic. One day you could be wearing pastel sundresses with ribbons in your hair; the next one could be long, black skirts paired with basic tank tops and multiple necklaces, or even something more extravagant, depending on your mood.

Seeing you was an experience— one that he could never get tired of. It's like every time he sets his eyes on you there's a certain color palette that changes constantly, or the feeling of gathering all your favorite songs into one playlist and then hitting the shuffle button. He never knows what to expect. Hence why he had given up on trying to relate you to the silly things around; like seasons, animals, artists or foods. Instead, he started associating you with feelings.

You were creative, unique and incredibly fearless. In a way, you made him feel uneasy, excited, thrilled, confident and many more emotions at the same time. If he had to describe you in one word, he'd say evoking.

Oh, how you pestered his brain.

He hated how much he thought about you, and how little guilt he felt from it.

Right now he was sitting on the drivers seat of his truck, waiting at the airport's parking lot. You asked him if you could walk your dad to his corresponding gate and he agreed. The downside: it had started to rain, probably not too bad for your dad's flight to be delayed but enough for your clothes to get soaked on your way back.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you muttered, shutting the passenger's door behind you. “The seats are gonna get all wet..."

"Here," Joel takes off his jacket to place it over your shoulders.

It feels warm and it smells like him, "Thanks."

He starts the car without saying anything else, keeping his eyes glued to the road. You, on the other hand, could not stop staring at him. Now that no one else was around, there was no shame in admiring his side profile, the way his muscles flexed and his hands grasped the wheel. There was something inherently attractive about men driving, but- Jesus... This image had your mind roaming around dark places.

Suddenly, realization sinks in— you're alone.

Alone with him.

"I, uh..." he taps the wheel with his thumb, still avoiding your gaze. "I wanted to take you out for dinner. The weather kinda ruined it."

The corners of your mouth hitch up in a silly smile. "Too bad. I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

Joel hums, appearing somewhat distraught. In reality, he was fighting for his life. The clothes you chose to wear today were not fitted for the rain; denim mini-skirt, high pair of boots and a white top that complimented your upper body. He tried not to look at the raindrops rolling down your thighs or note how transparent your shirt has become, forcing himself to stare at your hands and the many rings that decorated your fingers, seeing there the one he gifted you.

"How about you come over to my place?" you suggest, trying to catch his attention. "I'll need a shower and a change of clothes but... Maybe we can do something afterwards."

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, still avoiding your gaze, "Like what?"

This time your voice goes lower, a smirk spreads across your face and something in your eyes flickers; a darker, sensual spark.

"Oh, you know..." your hand carefully comes to rest on his knee. His thigh tenses but he doesn't say or do anything to push you away. "Whatever you want."

He swallows hard, feeling the pads of your fingers run circles on his leg, your nails mildly scratching over the jeans in a way that raises goosebumps on his skin and eases his nerves.

"I've got a better idea," he says, keeping his tone calm —barely—. "Why don't you come to my house instead?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Sure, but- what about my clothes?"

And then he smiles cockily, as if this had been his plan all along, "Wear mine."

Well, there was absolutely no way you were going to turn him down. With a bit more boldness, you slide your hand a few inches up his inner thigh, still rubbing soothing patterns. His jaw clenched, but remained silent and apparently unbothered.

"Joel?" his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, in a way only you knew how to. He uttered a 'hm?' in retort. "Did you miss me?"

"I've seen you nearly every day," he answers playfully.

You laugh, stopping your movements and simply resting your palm there. "So... No?"

"Didn't say that, darlin'." The truck suddenly stops at a red light as he exhales heavily, giving in to you at last. "But I'll let you guess."

A push and pull game, like a cat chasing a mouse. Your smirk widens. "I don't think so. Not as much as I have."

His eyes scan your body from head to toe, the way you sit with your legs slightly parted, back laying flat against the seat and face turned towards him with heated cheeks and low gaze. Unexpectedly, your hand draws back from his lap as you start looking through your purse and a frown forms on his face, baffled by the loss of contact.

"Which is why..." you take the Polaroid camera out and see a whole shift in his eyes, like he's about to burst in laughter. "I brought this."

"No," despite his categorical denial, you still held the object up.

"You have a green light," he curses under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. "Just let me have one, please."

He sighs in defeat, "Why'd you want that?"

The rain had started to settle down but the air was still pretty cold, all that could be heard besides your own voices being the drops that crashed against the car.

"Cause you're handsome," he rolls his eyes sarcastically. "And I like you."

Hell, you were always so straightforward. It made his heart jump inside his chest, wondering if it was gonna burst out.

"You won't like me as much once you meet that Will dude," Joel prattles through gritted teeth, remembering his daughter's suggestion from earlier.

"The guy Sarah mentioned?" your brows furrow subtly. "Why? What's up with him?"

He yanks his head to the side, glancing over at you for a second, "Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud." In spite of your puzzled expression, he decides to grant your wish. "I'll let ya' take it. But only if I get one in return."

Your lips purse in a smile, "As many as you like, Miller."

He doesn't say anything in response, but his grin doesn’t fade either and you managed to capture it on paper. The image slowly started to become visible and your first thought was how well it captured the whole 'Joel Miller' essence. It was a simple photo of him driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm thrown lazily over the backseat. That denim shirt hugged his arms exquisitely, the rolled-up sleeves adding to his appeal. He was looking at you when it was taken, so you could see more than half his face— and the way he was grinning, you couldn't help but think he appeared so much younger when he did that. The entire thing felt so much like him: snuggly, blue, genuine and you absolutely loved it.

"There," you show it to him as he started to pull over. "Isn't it nice?"

"Just keep it to yourself, aight?" the man grumbles.

"F'course," with a spark of joy, you slide the photo inside your wallet. "Wouldn't want anyone else peeking at that gorgeous smile of yours. That's a treasure of my own."

"Shut up-" he rumbled, turning his face the other way and opening the door, seemingly flustered. And out of all the amazing things you've accomplished in your life, making this rugged looking man blush was probably your greatest pride.

When he helps you out of the car, holding your hand firmly and cleaving to your waist; you wanted nothing more than to kiss him under the pouring rain, wildly and unhinged, just like last time. But this particular spot possibly had too many curious eyes of which you were unaware of. He obviously doesn't need to guide you through his house, since you already know nearly every corner of it, except for one. His bedroom. And apparently, that's the precise location he's taking you to.

"Please excuse the mess," he says, placing one hand on the door handle, "I haven't had a woman in here for ages, so I'm afraid I probably won't live up to your expectations."

"Joel," you snort, "it's been a decade and a half since you last dated anyone. Trust me, my expectations are pretty low."

He scowls, squinting both eyes. "You didn't have to say it like that..."

It's honestly better than you thought. His bed is nicely done, brown bedsheets striking as warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a pretty, light shade of blue that matched the grayish curtains on the left. The drawers in front of his windows had a bunch of stuff scattered on top of them: a CD player along with a few music discs, some papers, a cap and a pair of reading glasses, batteries, one screwdriver and a framed picture of him and Sarah at the beach. Meanwhile, the nightstand simply had one lamp and an alarm-clock on it. Over the bed's headboard were one poster of a music festival, the image of a landscape and an advert of what you guessed must've been a club, that read 'tacos and beer" on it. The door to the bathroom was on the right.

Messy, yet tidy at the same time. Very Joel-like.

"No way..." you murmur, eyeing the guitar beside his bed. "All this time I thought it was a myth."

"What?" he asks from behind you.

"Dad told me you used to serenade girls back in college and that you wanted to become a singer." A giggle escapes your lips, unable to contain it. "I remember saying he was surely making it up, but..."

"I didn't- I mean..." he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and feeling his chest swell with your laughter. "Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." The lingering, mischievous smile on your face made his heart pound and blood rush. "Come on, Miller. Shut me up, I dare you."

His eyes darken, but you don't falter for a second. He doesn't move a muscle, solely watching as you took off his jacket and threw it to the bed.

"You dare me?" his voice goes drops an octave, following your every move closely. "That's rather bold of you, sweetheart."

"Mhm," without breaking eye contact, you start taking off your boots. "And yet you're doing nothing about it."

Joel starts walking towards you slowly, holding your gaze intently. Your hair was damp and your clothes were still wet; it didn't really matter that the air was chilly cause you still felt warm all over. He soon invades your space, cupping your chin in his big hand and lifting your head upwards.

"Well, you're awfully quiet now, aren't ya'?" his hot breath fanned across your cheeks, the gap between your faces being basically invisible.

"I'm just waiting for you to start singing some random song by Alabama or Johnny Cash," you scoff. "Like a good ol' Texan ma-"

He doesn't let you finish the sentence, abruptly crashing his lips into your own. Joel isn't delicate about it and the fervor with which he kisses you makes your body stumble a few steps backwards. Your shoulders hit the wall and he pins you against it as your mouths find a way to mold perfectly, at a much nicer pace than last time. You throw your hands around his neck and let your fingers tangle in the curls around his nape, tasting the fresh mint on his lips. His hands rest on your hips, chests pressed together as the temperature kept rising with each second that went on.

You part your lips in order to grant him deeper access, feeling his tongue slide past your teeth and meeting your own in an ardent, heated way. It was perfect, until he broke apart, looking down at you with an asserted confidence.

"You really know nothing 'bout country music," he says in between shaky breaths, beaming. "S'that what you wanted?"

"Yes," you manage to say.

"Then say 'thank you'," Joel indicates petulantly, stroking your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, don't be such a brat."

You blink twice, your brain still buzzing with the sensation of mouth on you, barely capable of processing anything else. "But I want more..."

"You'll take what I give you."

Shit, when he said it like that- "Thank you."

"That's my girl," he straightened his back, opening the door next to you. "Now, get your pretty ass in the shower before you catch a cold, 'kay?" You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle. "There's clean towers under the sink. You can take some clothes from my drawers, or Sarah's if you feel like it. I don't think she'll mind."

"Understood." He can tell you're annoyed, which he finds funny.

"Don't be mad at me, angel." Joel tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. "Promise I'll make it up to you."

You nod distractedly, lost in the cocky spark on his eyes. "I'm not mad. Just hoping you fuck me real good if you're making me wait for it."

Your words almost make him choke on his own saliva. "Sweetheart, you're making it real hard for me to be a gentleman."

It makes your ego boost, in a sense. "I'll be quick. Can you get something for dinner, though? I'm starving."

"Shit, darlin', pick a struggle," he mocks as you enter the bathroom, "are you horny or hungry?"

"Oh, you jerk!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

6:15 pm.

You take a quick glance at Joel's alarm clock once you come out of the shower. It's been little more than an hour since your dad's plane took off. You hope the rain hadn’t made his flight any difficult, cause the weather turned out to be quite a blessing for you.

The cozy feeling of a nice, warm shower after being soaked under the rain was starting to settle in your bones, making your limbs relax. Then you realize, you smell like Joel. The scent of his soap, his shampoo, even his laundry detergent, is all over you. It's intoxicating in the most fantastic way possible, making your insides burn with a thrill of excitement. You took one on his flannels, —dark green with red stripes— and decided to wear it without anything besides your underwear. It was pretty big anyway, and covered just the necessary areas.

You slid your socks back on when all of the sudden you hear the faint sound of music from the floor beneath. Curious, you walk towards the noise, finding out Joel was in the kitchen, crouched down in front of the opened fridge. The CD player that you saw earlier on his room was now on the table, playing a melody that you recognized almost immediately.

"I like this song," you say, leaning against the wall. "That's Billy Idol, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he recalls, taking out a medium sized plastic box from the fridge. "Tommy made that mix. There's plenty of hits from past decades. I think you'll enjoy it."

The man finally turns around to face you and his face fails to hide his surprise. The way his prying eyes sweep your body in detail, taking his time particularly on your bare thighs, almost made you feel self-conscious if it weren't for that shadow of desire that crossed his eyes and the way his nostrils flared from a contained breath.

"How is he, by the way?" you ask, still on the subject. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Who?" he clearly forgot what he had just said.

"Your brother," you call to mind, "how is he?"

Joel sets the box down on the table and drifts his gaze back to your face. "Fine, I guess. Last time we spoke he said he'd go to Dallas." He takes two glasses from the pantry and what it looks like a bottle of wine. "I-uh... There isn't any real food in here besides those strawberries and chocolates that this guy brought for Sarah. Should I order something?"

You shake your head and walk over to him, "This will do. Won't she get mad if we eat them, though?"

"Don't think so," he replies, pouring the red liquid into the glasses. "I'll blame you if she does."

"Oh, okay-" you cock an eyebrow at him and hold back a giggle. "Thought you didn't like wine."

"It's a fancy drink," he explains, "s'only for special occasions."

"Oh?" you take a sip from it, eyes boring into his. "And what's tonight's?"

Joel smiles conceitedly, jutting his chin out. "I've got you all to myself."

You snort, feeling the heat soar across your cheeks. He takes the snack box and with a sly gesture asks you to follow him into the living room, the melodic sound of the eighties tune turning to background noise as you do. The only lights on are the ones in the kitchen and the lamps beside the couch, shining a perfect light on his features.

"Come here," he calls, the leather squealing under his weight when he sat down. You set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the tv, going to sit next to him. "No, sweetheart," he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I meant here."

His legs part slightly, making room for you to sit on his lap. Your smile broadened toward a soft chuckle, settling yourself on his thigh. Joel immediately gets his hands on you, one on your lower back and the other merely resting on your upper leg.

"So, who's this mystery man that's been giving gifts to your darling daughter?" he scoffs in response, reaching for a chocolate from the box.

"Honestly? No fuckin' clue." You hum in surprise, drinking from your wine. "She never involves with them, thank god, and once they meet me they never come by again."

"I see,” you muse, “you're the overprotective type," you bite on a strawberry next.

"I wouldn't say it like that..." he sees the sarcastic glimpse on your expression and holds back laughter. "It's a dad reflex, I can't control it."

"Right, sounds convincing."

You stretch your arm behind the couch, setting your elbow and laying the side of your face on your palm. His face is very close to yours but all you do is simply stare at each other; Joel's big brown eyes glimmer with infatuation. “Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?" he asks lowly. "Somethin' more serious."

You wince in confusion, but still nod, "Sure."

He inhales sharply, taking a couple of seconds to actually say what he meant to. “Why are you here?" your frown deepens at his words. "I mean- Texas. I know you said you wanted to make up for the lost time with your old man, but... I feel like there's something else you're not saying."

It takes a minute for you to really sink in on his question. You nearly gulp down the alcohol before setting the glass down, avoiding his ardent gaze.

"Honestly?" you sigh, "There's so much to unpack that I don't even know where to start."

"Try." Although he didn't sound harsh, the effort he was asking you to put in wasn't something of your liking.

"Well, first of all," you meditate, clearing your throat, "the city didn't feel like home since my mom passed. It made me realize how much I missed here." He nods comprehensively, caressing the exposed skin of your thigh in a reassuring manner. "And then there's this- fear. Yeah, I guess it is fear... I've managed to accomplish so much in such short time that it actually fucking scares me to go any further and see that-" you stop, sighing and shaking your head. "That I've reached my limit."

For a moment, there's just silence floating between you, all that could be heard were the rain and a song by tears for fears.

"Darlin', look at me," he asks softly but you can't bring yourself to do it, embarrassed by your confession. "Please, let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

And it's practically impossible for you to deny him anything. Specially when he asks so nicely, when his hand grabs the side of your face so gently— you give in, just like that.

"You're afraid to succeed because you don't know what to do with yourself afterwards. Is that it?" You nod faintly. "Can I speak frankly?"

"I have a feeling you will anyway-"

"Yeah. A bit of tough love, but you need’a hear it." Joel strokes your cheek sweetly and you get shivers from the affection in the action. "Sweetheart, I know what you're going through. Shit feels like it's either moving too fast or not moving at all. And I know how scary that is. Trust me, there's still plenty of time for you."

You square your eyes to his, "Sure, bet you were frightened when you were twenty four."

"Terrified," he spoke truthfully. "Everyone I knew was getting married, moving out or working their asses off."

"And you?" he grunts, taking a strawberry from the box. "What were you doing?" Joel eats the fruit patiently, simply staring at you silently. "Come ooon, don't play hard to get."

"Gotta promise you won't laugh."

It's a tricky business for someone who makes fun of everything, and yet you simply reply: "I swear."

"Fine," he rasps out in fake annoyance. "I used to make my own guitars and- sell 'em sometimes. I'd also teach guitar lessons and horseback riding."

Your eyes widen in surprise and something flutters in your stomach. "Shit, that's actually pretty cool!"

He groans, rolling his eyes at the same time, "I told you not to make fun of me."

"No, no- I mean it." You shuffle on his lap, resting a hand on his chest. "And you sound passionate about it... Why'd you stop?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, tightening his grip on your waist. "It went well for a couple years but I eventually had to get something more solid. More so after Sarah was born." He takes a deep breath in, the smell of his own shampoo on your hair hitting his nostrils and catching him off-guard.

"You should teach me," you suggest with a smug grin. "I always wanted to learn."

"What, guitar or horseback riding?" he wonders, suddenly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck.

"Guitar. I'm pretty good at riding, if you must know." You feel him chuckle against your body, his facial hair scratching your sensitive skin.

"We'll see 'bout that," his voice comes out husky as he starts kissing along your jawline.

Joel's common sense jumped out the window long ago, but the string of self control that kept him sane all this time couldn't bear the weight of you wriggling on top of him, semi-naked and with his scent all over you. Something primal took over him, a glimpse of possessiveness that he didn't believe himself capable of feeling towards you specifically. He wanted you to wear that flannel around town so people would look at you and know who it belonged to; whose bed you've been visiting. He wanted you to smell of his cologne so other men would know that you weren't free for them.

Your fingers run through his soft curls, messing his hair while he grabs the back of your thighs and manhandles you onto straddling his lap. He nips and licks over all your vulnerable areas, making your breathing start to labour. How could he possibly know this well the easiest ways to have you so desperate this quick? Leaning into his touch, yearning for him even with the smallest action? He wasn't aware of the answer himself, he just knew.

Joel instinctively throws his head back when you tug at his hair and seize the opportunity to duck down and lay a sweet kiss on his forehead. His hands coast up your thighs, splaying his fingers on your ass to squeeze the flesh. You hold back a giggle, kissing the curve of his nose before catching his soft, soft lips on yours.

He slides an arm around your waist, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to keep you as close as possible. You feel your nipples harden when his tongue ran along your bottom lip— tauntingly slow, until you allowed him full access to your mouth, letting him taste the sweet mixture of wine and strawberries on your tongue. But his vehemence didn't make you any less eager, kissing him back with just as much passion and vigor, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and mildly pulling at it with minor strength.

The action ignites a fire within him, seeing you on top, feeling your fingers roam around his cheekbones and along his jawline like you knew just how much fucking power you had over him... It was a new sensation, a new kind of desire he didn't recognize at first.

Joel's lips were swollen and his own excitement was starting to feel evident underneath you, which created a blunt ache between your legs. He usually appeared so big and mean, with those broad shoulders and permanent scowl on his face. Now, though... He seemed like he'd let you do just about anything with him, to him— it didn't really matter as long as you kept staring at him like that; through heavy lids, eyes sparkling with a profound, desperate need that spoke without words, saying 'only you get to see this side of me'.

You start grinding your hips against his, rubbing your clothed core above his growing boner in small, calculated circles as you shore yourself up with a hand to his chest. He merely admired you from his position, letting you have your way with him; all the while his gaze reflected patience, like he could take over the situation any second but enjoyed watching you lead.

"Joel," you call his name, leaning forward to kiss his chin, moving your lips all the way down his throat and feeling the nice scratch of his beard. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt as you come up to whisper in his ear: "Stay still."

Panting, he narrows his eyes in confusion, "What?" Though you don't give him enough time to figure out your words, getting back on your feet and parting his legs further with a light thump of your knee.

He observes your every move quietly, amused by your confidence and determination when you drop to your knees in front of him. Joel's cocky expression doesn't sway, not even when you drag your nails across his inner thigh, inching closer towards his very visible hard on. However, his body betrays him, selling a whole different story. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," he hissed, refusing to place his hands on you.

"Or what?" you drawl, coming to rest your palm on his crotch. A simple, feathery touch that made his pulse accelerate.

"You'll regret it," he warns grimly.

"S'that so?" you start to unbuckle his belt, way too slow for his liking, tugging down the zipper of his jeans. "I think I can handle it."

He smirked, his hand slithers to the back of your scalp and forces you to lock eyes with him. "Don't test your luck, sweetheart."

You pout mockingly, doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying while dragging down the fabric just enough to free his cock. Your new found courage falters for a second, finally seeing him in all his size and girth. He was, by all means, a big one, the amount of precome oozing on the tip telling you just how much he loved being teased, despite whatever words came out of his mouth. The mere sight of it sent a new heated wave of slick between your thighs.

Joel mimicked your expression scornfully, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, "Too big for ya'?"

"None of that," you wrap your hand around the base, not really applying any pressure; though the sole warmth of your touch was enough to give him goosebumps, "we'll make it fit."

"That's my girl."

With a chuckle, you lower your head to kiss the inside of his thigh, the pads of your fingers softly grazing the veins on his length. His whole body shudders, leaking onto your hand and letting out a subtle gasp as you spread kisses all along his shaft. Your eyes peer into his soul when you gently place your lips to the slit, tasting the salty precome as he calls your name in what resembles a desperate plea. In a swift move, you finally take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and deciding to put an end to his suffering. He mutters a gruff 'fuck' when you attempt to take him farther, pumping what you couldn't yet fit and snaking your free hand under the hem of his denim shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Shit, darlin'-" you feel the heaviness of his palm simply resting on the back of your head, not pushing or forcing you in any way, but allowing you to adapt to his size. "The only way to get ya' to stop talking is with a mouth full of cock, ain't it?"

You hum in response and the sensation is completely enrapturing for Joel, his callused fingers tangle in your hair to ground him as he releases a shaky breath. It's a huge challenge to focus on anything else but him; your mind whirring with a familiar dizziness while you bob your head up and down his shaft, intoxicated by the taste of him, the smell of him and every sound that escapes his lips, making your clit throb with need and your arousal pool in your panties, uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

For Joel, it's overwhelming.

He's never really been the noisy type during sex but heck— you were doing it for him. He's a panting mess above you, his hips buck ever so slightly in tandem with your mouth, trying not to lose it entirely. Your spit drools down his dick and the way your dark, dilated pupils sparkle with lust as you hollow your cheeks around him pulls a groan deep from his throat.

"That's it, you can take it," he coaxes when your nose nudges his pubic bone, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. "Good fuckin' girl, just like that..."

Enticed with the praise, you keep repeating the motion, sliding one hand to hold his hipbone for support and feeling his burning skin under your touch whilst the other plays with his balls to aid his pleasure. The obscene slick sounds mix in the air with his hoarse cursing, the rain and the faint music of kings of leon, sex on fire.

He looks so good from this angle, chest rising and falling with heavy, irregular breaths, head thrown back and both hands on you, keeping you angled for his cock. Drops of precum roll on your tongue as you keep changing the pace at which your head moves, tears welling in your eyes and jaw going slack. Shit, you're aching for him so bad that the only thing you can think of to relieve the need is squeeze your thighs together in order to create some friction. And it works, the action eliciting a moan from you that makes him fucking whimper your name.

"Bet your cunt's drippin' just from sucking my dick," he muffles a laugh that turns halfway into a sigh when you pay special attention to the ruddy, sensitive tip. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

You can tell he is by the way his cock twitches in your mouth; his spine straightens at the heat gathering between his legs and he tries to pull you off against your will, uttering a warning that you chose to ignore. Joel's lips part in a throaty groan when he reaches his high, feeling the outline of your fingers digging harshly on his hip, your hand rubbing his length and your tongue lapping at his slit, taking in every single drop of his release until he's spent, right before pressing a soft kiss to it that makes him shiver. And hell— contrary to others, he tasted good; warm and thick, coating your senses.

His heart beats aggressively against his ribs and he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to get back on your feet while resting your hands on his waist. Although his eyes are barely open, he can quite literally feel your smile when you chastely kiss his lips. He chuckles breathlessly as you sit beside him, tugging himself back in his pants.

"We're not done yet," he says, grabbing the back of your knee and promptly engulfing your leg around his waist, maneuvering your body so that your back rests against the couch and he's crouched down, caged in the middle of your thighs. "I said I'd make it up to you and I will."

"Well, you've certainly got some stamina in you, old man," you poke fun at him, raising a hand to move those rebellious curls away from his eyes.

Joel smiles, caressing your cheek affectionately. "Always got somethin' to say, don't ya'?"

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you coo, enveloping your arms around his neck, "we both know just how much you love to hear me talk."

"Mhm," he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, "yes, I reckon you're right."

His big hand covers nearly half of your face as he holds you still, crashing your lips together. He kisses you deeply, vigorously, in a way that makes you wonder if you could possibly drown in a person's essence. His other palm slides between your bodies to start undoing the buttons of the flannel —his flannel— you were wearing. You can't help but whine when he draws back, watching you from above.

"Joel-" blood rushes through your ears and can feel your cheeks warm up as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers coasting down your throat and to the valley of your breasts, licking his lips when he sees your hardened nipples.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he speaks freely, without holding back emotion, and it makes your heart skip a beat. "Such a sweet, sweet girl I can't get enough of."

"Then take a picture," you purr, "it'll last longer."

He stares at you through a measuring squint, a lighthearted smile forming on his face. "Since you insist." It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, until you finally recall that there's actually a camera inside your purse; one that he reaches for. "If I remember correctly... You said I could take as many as I like."

You lightly squeeze his waist with your thighs, feeling your whole body burn with anticipation. "I did say that..."

"Let's just pray your dad won't find these hanging around," he ponders, turning your face slightly to the side. "He'll have my head."

"And that would be terrible..."

He takes the Polaroid with one hand, the other coming to grope your breast as he backs off for a better angle, ultimately deciding to wrap his fingers loosely around your neck instead, purely holding you there. You glance at the lens, making your best "fuck me" eyes added to a cheeky smile, hearing him curse under his breath prior to snapping the picture.

"You've got the prettiest fucking tits I've even seen, sweetheart," he snarls, laying a palm flat over your lower abdomen while he waited for the photo.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got such a marvelous way with words?" he suppressed a laugh, safeguarding the picture on the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just a few women." Before you can even begin to act annoyed, he sets the camera aside and leans down to kiss your collarbones, the pad of his thumb kneading circles around your sensitive nipple. "Look at you, honey," he murmurs, "you're so easy to please... Or is it just because of me?"

You're panting, your back arching in response to his constant ministrations, every inch of your skin blushing under his attention. "I think it's-" you're cut off by the sudden need to swallow when he sucks a mark on the vulnerable skin between your breasts, "you."

His body vibrates with a laugh and you feel his hand palm your clothed sex, dragging his tongue over your delicate nipple, gently nibbling at it. You screw your eyes shut and let a single, fluttery moan slide past your lips when his thumb nudges your clit.

"So wet just from giving head?" Joel shakes his head in fake disapproval. "Who knew you were such a horny little thing?"

You are holding onto his bicep for dear life, fearing you might collapse into oblivion if you part from his body. His index glides across your slit over the drenched cotton fabric, making you squirm beneath him.

"You- you tasted good," you babble, mind all over the place. 

"Yeah?" his chest swells with pride, "you should taste yourself, angel," his mouth travels across your abdomen, "sweetest thing I've ever had."

It's pointless trying to conjure a response, you're simply too far gone by now. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your thighs, flattening his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You whimper, running your fingers through his locks and bucking your hips to meet his face.

"Please," you blurt out, "Joel, please..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asks, moving the underwear aside to directly touch your clit, fondling it as he watched your slick coat his fingers. "What do you want?" But you can't conceive an answer, all that could come out of your mouth were those pathetic, desperate moans. "Use your words."

With his free hand he plays with your nipple, grabbing your breast with his entire hand. "I want you."

He tauntingly moves his fingers around your seam, refusing to go any further. "Say it again."

"I want you, Joel."

Cocky bastard.

He licks his fingers clean and starts getting off the couch, leaving you with a confused, dumbfounded expression that nearly makes him crack up.

"You didn't really believe I'd be fucking you on the couch, did ya'?" he teases, but all you can muster up is a barely audible 'oh'. "Come on, let's take this to my room. And don't forget to bring that camera of yours."

Mind still dazing, you obey his instructions, following him silently upstairs as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. For a second, he glances back at you, gifting a soft, reassuring grin before extending his arm to grab your fingers, holding your hand in a pure, intimate touch.

And just for that moment, you forget that he's actually your dad's oldest friend, that he's Sarah's father or any other thought of the sort. He's just Joel. Joel Miller, the only man that has managed to make you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or that made you blush with merely a few compliments.

"Ask me to kiss you," he urges, taking the camera from your hands and carefully placing it on his bedside table, his eyesight fixed on you.

"Kiss me," you don't ask, you downright beg.

He does, though it's not like the previous times. He's tender, almost languid about it. His hands are on your bare hips while yours cup his cheeks; Joel's fingers reach to remove the flannel from your shoulders and moves his lips to the newly exposed skin, murmuring constant admirations. You feel your lungs clench and a tingly sensation on your lower belly.

"I'll take care of you, darlin'." You let the shirt slide down your arms and fall to the floor. "Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on by fooling around with those stupid boys." His words go straight to your core as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Take them off," he gestures to the last piece of clothing on your body.

You compel to his wish, stripping under his prying eyes while he lazily gets rid of his boots. His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the glistening mess he's made of you, promptly dragging you on top of him. Your hands lay flat on his exposed chest shortly before he switches positions, readjusting you on the middle of the bed.

"Joel, please just-" you whine when he keeps playing with your entrance, stretching you with his fingers. Your skin scorches with desire, knees weak from the growing heat on your lower body.

"Stop nagging, sweetheart," he grits through his own lust, his gaze impossibly dark. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Joel, I'm too worked up, I-" you gasp when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your toes curl. "Fuck..."

"Come on, baby." He ducks down to kiss the skin behind your ear and his beard tickles nicely. "It's just the two of us now, feel free to be as loud as you need to."

His pants are undone and hanging loosely on his hips, the image being so blatantly erotic that only managed to get you more aroused as you fumble to get rid of his shirt. He chuckles at your eagerness, shrugging it out of the way and haphazardly kicking off his jeans and underwear altogether, discarding them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You take a second to revel on his naked figure, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and sturdy chest, the marked collarbones and every noticeable mole. His hair is messy from your fingers, a thin layer of sweat sticks some curls to his temples as his wild, hungry eyes bask in the view of your sopping pussy when he parts your shaky legs further. But the moment of appreciation is brief, both of you being edged and spurred on.

He maneuvers a hand to your lower back and aligns your hips with his, watching the way your hole drips for him, wetting his bedsheets. You're a panting mess beneath him, lightly scratching his shoulder-blades and biting on your bottom lip, looking up at him doe-eyed and all splayed out for him to take. Joel wants to tell you just how badly he's longed for this— how he's been yearning to have you so achingly bad. But right now, feelings overrun his thoughts, especially after hearing his name spilling from your lips, begging for him to take you.

"Relax, darlin'." Joel teases your slit with the head of his cock, rubbing it along your sex and coating it with your slick. Your head tilts backwards, dipping on his pillows, small whines keep spilling from your mouth. "I won't go easy on you."

"Great, cause I don't want you to-" your slurred words get muffled by the sudden feeling of intrusion as he finally buries himself in your cunt, letting out a filthy, guttural groan.

You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded and staggered from the way he was filling you up so nicely, the stretch being a tad painful at first, but the kind of pain that could only ever feel good. Then your whole body quivers from head to toe.

"That's it, you can take it," he mutters, peppering kisses to your chin and collarbones as he bottoms out. "Fuck, you feel divine-" The tight, warm grip you welcome him with resembles nothing he's ever had before. This is new, this is you.

You bear down on his cock, enveloping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to encourage him. He holds you down with a firm grip around your neck, starting to set a pace with his hips as he draws out and then back in slowly, roughly, making your back arch. Your erect nipples brush against his strong chest and create a delightful friction that has you moaning louder than you could've expected. You're amazed by the way he thrusts into you, somehow mindful to hit every right spot inside you —needless to say that it was something that others could hardly manage before—, his pubic hair tickles the skin below your belly button, sending shivers down your spine that prompt you to drag your nails down his back.

"Look," he indicates, despite your inability to even think straight. "Look," he repeats harshly, using the hand that was on your hips to tilt your head downwards, forcing you to stare at where your bodies connected. It was obscene, the wet noises of your pussy and skin clapping against skin sounding purely pornographic. "Look at the mess you're making."

"Joel, I-" you can't form sentences properly, all your attention being focused on how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, for god's sake..."

"Lemme help with that," he speaks breathlessly, pining your leg over the crook of his elbow to make his thrusts deeper, more precise. You cry out in bliss, feeling the heat expanding from your stomach to your legs. "Yeah, you're close, I can fuckin' feel it- fuck..."

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his dick just right. He knows he's in too deep when you call out his name like it's the only word you can remember, when he wallows in the glorious view of your pretty face contorted in pleasure. He looses the grip on your neck and strokes your lower lip with his thumb, prodding you to keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. It's electrifying, a feverish kind of sensation that gratifies every nerve on your body.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, overcame by the intense feeling of euphoria that your body was providing. You realize in that moment that the reason why Joel could fill that void so easily was because he kept prioritizing you above him. Your pleasure was his, too.

"Jesus Christ, Joel-" you mewl when he abruptly pulls out, “… Worth the wait.”

He laughs shakily, kissing your lips shortly. "Turn around, sweetheart. I want to fuck you from behind."

With a buzzing dizziness, you follow his instruction. God, right now you'd do just about anything if he asked you to. You notice movement from his part and patiently wait with your butt up in the air for him to stuff you again; instead, you hear the familiar clicking sound of the Polaroid camera.

"You fucker," you chuckle, "did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Couldn't help myself," he groans, caressing the soft flesh before lightly slapping it. "You look too damn gorgeous." The hit on your skin burns nicely and you can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips.

"Shit- do that again..."

You can practically hear his smile when he talks, "You into that?" he repeats the action with a little more force and the pain sends a shock of pure pleasure between your legs, your own fluids dripping down your thighs. "F'course you are, I should've guessed with that attitude of yours."

He plays with your swollen pussy, enjoying your tiny moans and the way your legs tremble as you fist the sheets underneath you, burying your face on his pillow when he spanks you again— this time so hard that it probably left a mark. But before the sting washes away he takes the opportunity to enter you in one swift move, holding your hips steady and trailing his fingers along your spine.

"That's my sweet girl," he praises a midst, starting to grind his cock inside you. "Taking me like you were made for it."

This is way more intense, the angle allowing him to hit deeper, harsher. His gruff moans become more frequent as he speeds up his pace, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. The sensation was purely fantastic, melting every thought away and just leaving Joel Miller to fill you in every sense of the word. His hands are never still, roaming your responsive areas, caressing the most sensitive and always taking care of your aching clit.

You might cry from the overwhelming ecstasy— the way his tip constantly hits the depths of your cunt with each relentless thrust has you seeing stars. Joel gets a thrill from the way you can't seem to get enough of him either, throwing your hips back to meet his unwavering pace, clawing at the pillows and moaning helplessly, pushing him close to his climax.

"Joel, it's too much..." you mumble. "Please, I can't-"

He hunches over you, kissing your nape to ease the overpowering sensations, "Yes, you can. You're a big girl, you can take it." And then your vision goes blurry, all you're able to hear being his disjointed, lewd moans; all you can feel is his hard, hot body flushed to yours, his cock twitching inside you and the wetness of your own body. "That's it, give me another one, baby- fuuuck..."

The buildup is so strong you nearly collapse, feeling yourself tremble as he chases his orgasm, fucking you through yours. His fingers reach your bundle of nerves and apply barely any pressure, which has you coming undone in seconds, absolutely soaking his dick and the sheets beneath you, chanting his name like a prayer. A string of curses falls from his lips as he pulls out and quickly manhandles your fucked out self to lay on your back. He exhales sharply through his nose, spilling his load all over your stomach without even touching himself.

You both stay there for a while, catching your breath and looking intently at each other’s eyes before he rolls over, going limp beside you. You stare blankly at de ceiling, suddenly feeling aggressively aware of your sticky skin covered in sweat and cum, the numbness on your lower body that will surely feel sore in the morning and all the marks he's left dispersed on you. You feel satisfied, fulfilled even. Joy bubbles up your chest and comes out in form of a giggle, one you're unable to hold back.

"What?" he asks, turning his face towards you with a half-smile.

"I don't know, I just..." you shake your head, still laughing. "I don't know."

He chortles in disbelief, holding out a hand to take some tissues from the bedside drawer and going to swipe his mess off your tummy and inner thighs. "Shit, I think I might’ve just fucked the sense out of ya'."

Joel sets himself between your parted legs, laying the weight of his upper body on top of you, resting his chin on your chest, eyes boring into yours. He looks so young like this, despite the greying hair and the small wrinkles, his beautiful brown orbs sparkle ever so brightly under your attentive gaze.

"What will your dad say when he returns and finds out his only daughter has completely lost her mind?" he jokes, cradling you in his big arms.

"Come on," you roll your eyes playfully, "we both know that if I had been in my right mind since the beginning, I probably wouldn't be in your bed right now." He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade either. Joel nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse zone briefly before closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp in utter silence.

The wind was howling outside, rustling the tree branches, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your ribs, his deep breaths fanning across your shoulder and his unique scent all around you, on you. In spite of the cold air, your naked bodies are warm enough to stay comfortably in this position, at least for a while— however, there's something deep inside you that doesn't want this moment to end.

"Hey," you call him lowly and he hums in response, "can we order pizza?"

He nods faintly, "Anything you want, honey."

Anything.

If only.

"I'll call," you say. "Any specific requests?"

"As long as there isn't any pineapple on it, we're fine." You glance down at him, almost appalled.

"You don't like pineapple on pizza?"

"No. That's disgusting, come on."

"Oh, grow up!" he opens his mouth to retort, but when he sees your dismayed expression he can merely bark a laugh that you get infected with.

"Order whatever you want," he whispers in your ear. "But you'll have to promise something."

"What's that?" you raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Say you'll stay," he murmurs, slightly hesitant. "Stay here and spend the night with me."

The proposal takes you by surprise, so much that you actually stopped breathing. You ponder wether if you could or you should; because, at the end, what would a night really mean? What could possibly change?

Nothing, right?

Besides, no one had to know.

(...)

A few moments later you're downstairs looking for your phone, wearing nothing other than his green flannel. Joel decided to take a shower while you ordered the food and you chose to walk around the house, paying attention to the little details you hadn't quite noticed before.

Now that you see it, there are plenty of horse images here and there. Very Texan of Joel, you can't deny. Lots of pictures of Sarah growing up, some of him and Tommy and a good deal with your dad. None of his ex-wife. In fact, there's no proof that she even existed. You decide not too think too hard about it, since it was none of your business after all.

You pour yourself a glass of water and wander your eyes across the amount of pills he usually takes. Anxiety pills, painkillers, vitamins. What could possibly be troubling this middle-aged man so bad? Again, you decide to turn a blind eye and simply pick up the phone, expecting a message from your dad to tell you he arrived in Boston well and safe. Instead, you find that your direct messages in social media have new requests. Curious, you open them to see what the fuzz was about.

Hi!

This is Will

I don't know if Sarah mentioned me...

I'm her English teacher, haha

I hope you don't find this creepy, your profile popped up in my 'people you may know' section and since Sarah said she wanted to introduce us, I thought I might just say hi 😉

Honestly, with everything that went down you had nearly forgotten about Sarah's 'you should hang out with people your age' speech. And now that you were stalking his profile, he appeared to be maybe a couple years older than you— handsome in a boyish, intelectual way, if that made sense. Apparently, he studied in New York too, and lived in Queens.

Hi!

Yeah, I reckon she did

What's up, Queens? :)

You don't really expect a reply, not giving much thought to anything in the moment. Though, an involuntary smile twitches your lips when there's a quick message that reads "Not much, Brooklyn" and the writing bubble underneath.

After all, having a friend in Austin wouldn't hurt.

[trumpkinhotboy]

Lean on me

Pairing: Twin Brother!Nick Nelson x Twin sister!Reader

Type: Request (thank you so much!!)

Genre: Angst that ends with a lot of fluff

Warnings: Sexual Assault situation. Although the details aren't of extreme nature, it can still be a hard thing to read for some people, so be careful <33

Rating: 13+ (because of SA)

Word count: ~ 4600

Requests: Open! For Heartstopper, twilight wolfpack, chronicles of narnia and harry potter

A/n: I was really inspired for this fic and it took me quite some time to write it. I hope you will enjoy protective brother nick nelson and the fluff with the Paris gang as much as I do. If you have any requests feel free to message me !!

A/n pt.2: Please don't come for me for my summary, I fucking hate writing those xoxo

*gif is not mine!!

Summary: The reader goes to a party without her twin brother, Nick. Through different circonstances, she ends up dancing with someone who might have not rightfully earned her trust. The situation quickly escalates to horrible heights. She will have no other choice, but to learn how to defend herself, and how to lean on the people who matters for her.

Your heart is racing, your eyes are burning, and silent tears stream down your face. You rest on the threshold of the door you've just exited from. You can't grasp and even begin to process what just happened. You look up, hearing your name being called from afar. It feels like you're in a different dimension. Everywhere you look, reality seems distorted by some filter. Finally, you focus on your mother's face. She's sitting in her little car, window down, waving at you. Automatically, your body starts walking toward the car, but mentally you are elsewhere. In a dark corridor up in this horrible mansion. Trapped.

_

Your heart beats in a thumping rhythm as you cross the threshold of the mansion. Music is blasting out at an alarmingly loud volume with the place already packed. 

You try to calm your breathing and to remember you were invited and belong here as much as anybody else. The few people you cross paths with wave at you. You smile back, trying to look confident and relaxed. The image of collected cool. 

Even though there's actually a weight dropping in your stomach. 

You are, after all, Nick Nelson's twin sister. He has a certain 'popular kid' reputation that was mostly passed on to you by association. You are both known for being nice and popular kids. Although you definitely are more lowkey than your 'rugby king' brother. So, even if you aren't sure these people are your crowd, you couldn't refuse when you had been invited to some guy's end-of-exams party. 

It wasn't rare for you to be invited to events like this. Although, it was one of the few times your brother didn't join you. Ever since he started dating Charlie and got closer with the Paris gang, you could see less and less of him at these kinds of gatherings. That's why tonight, instead of being here with you, drinking lukewarm punch and listening to questionable music as some alcoholized teens were being unleashed in a mansion worth ten times your house, he was hanging out at home with his friends. You would much rather be with them, but they were Nick's friends, and even though they were nice to you, you always felt like the annoying sister trying to tag along in her brother's friend group.

That's why even when 95% of you wanted to turn back around and escape that terrible party, you took a deep breath in and let yourself be swallowed by the crowd of people.

10:15pm. You had been here for an hour, and it did not get better. The cup of punch in your hands was sticky and smelled incredibly weird. No doubt because someone had dumped in a bunch of mixed liquors. Your friends were all hanging around. Either dancing or flirting with some questionable-behaving young men. You couldn't help but look at your phone about a thousand times in the last twenty minutes. You thought about calling your mother. You knew she'd come to fetch you, but then what? You'd go back home? Seeing Nick and all of his friends having a jolly old time while you had failed to have a good night on your own? No, thank you.

You loved Nick to death, but sometimes, seeing how liked he was proved to be incredibly difficult for you. You always felt like an impostor. He dared to be himself, and people liked him anyway. You weren't so sure you'd be met with the same welcome if you dared step away from the facade you had carefully built all these years. 

Maybe that's why you accepted to dance with someone you didn't even know. You did see each other around a few times but never actually spoke. He seemed nice enough, so when he reached out a hand and offered you to dance, you drank a sip of your horrible drink and joined him on the crowded dancefloor without question.

He was entertaining and invented goofy dance moves to make you laugh, but all the while, something felt off. You felt like you were being watched. Sometimes, you'd see his gaze over you as if he was looking at someone else. Each time you'd try to look in that direction to see who he might be looking at, he'd find some clever way to focus your attention elsewhere. After a few songs, you were both out of breath, sweaty, and hoping for a break. You were about to invent a creative excuse to get away when he offered to get some water. You hesitated, trying to look around for a friend, but none were in sight. 

"Come on, we'll get some water and air if you want to. I know a spot." His expression was kind and seemed genuine. That's why, again, you followed him even though some small part of you screamed that you shouldn't.

The feeling in your gut turned queasy as he led you through dark corridors. The once kind smile that graced his features seemed to turn smug as you headed deeper into the house. You finally reached a little room far away from the agitated crowd. He opened the door, inviting you inside. "Are you coming?"

Your feet were rooted to the ground, the feeling in your stomach spreading to your entire body. This felt wrong. 

"Uhm, no. I think my mom will be here soon. I should go." You took a step backward, trying to put some distance between the two of you. Trying to calm the instinct that screamed at you to run.

"Oh, come on. Don't you want a glass of water?" 

You only stared at him, not daring to respond, too scared to fall into this trap he layed in front of you. You knew water would not be involved if you entered that room, and he seemed to get that too, "We had fun, didn't we?" the change in his tone made shivers creep up your arms. Gone was his facade of the innocent boy. He now looked like a snake trying to lure in his prey.

"Yeah, but now it's time for me to go. Thanks." 

He stepped towards you, making you fully back into the wall. "Please stay. It's my party, you know. The least you could do is stay a little longer with me."

You looked around, noticing his arms had crept on the wall on either side of you. 

"Please get your arms off," you demanded. You tried to make your voice sound assured but failed to hide the quiver in it. He noticed it, and the glim of rotten confidence in his eyes shone brighter. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He trailed one finger up your arm, your stomach tying in knots at the touch. "You know, I've seen you around a lot. You're Nick Nelson's sister. People talk about you. They say you're stuck up. You've never had a boyfriend or anything, am I right? I like girls like that, so nice, so pure."

You almost threw up on him, the allusions making you feel nauseous. You couldn't, and wouldn't, hide the disgust filling your eyes. You looked around, hoping to see someone turn up. Praying for someone to come, but it seemed you were out of luck as the corridor stayed empty.

His hand went up in your hair, and you held your breath. Terror like you had never felt before paralyzed your body. "The guys bet you wouldn't get with me, but I think we have potential together. Am I right? We could head in that little room together and see what happens." 

You felt the hand on your waist slowly slide down your hip, tugging you closer. 

"Get off of me!" you exploded as you pushed him back as hard as you could. He hit the door behind him quite hard, the doorknob digging in his back. You made a headstart to get away, but before you could get further, his hand grabbed your wrist, tightening his grip until he had you wincing in pain.

He gritted his teeth, ambers of rage dancing in his eyes. "Oh, come on, don't be like this. Stay here with me, and we'll have fun." He pulled you backward by the collar of your shirt, and you heard the fabric rip with a distinct sound. He pressed you tight on his chest. You could feel every part of him pushing hard against your back. He gripped your hips while his other hand fumbled with your chest. His foul mouth on your neck. 

Refusing to give up, you gathered all the self-defense knowledge you had and stepped on his foot as hard as you could, hitting him with your elbow in the stomach at the same time. You put all your strength in the blow as if you were trying to pierce him through. You knew you cut the air from his body with the sound he made. His arms loosened up for a second, and this time, when you started running in the opposite direction, nothing stopped you. 

Running as fast as you could, you looked back for a second. Unable to resist the reflex to confirm you weren't being followed. Whipping your head to the front, you couldn't dodge when someone suddenly exited a door on the side. You crushed into them with blunt strength, almost sending you two toppling down. 

"Oi! Watch where you're going- Oh, Y/n. Are you okay?" 

The voice sounded incredibly familiar, and your gaze focused for a second. Sai, one of Nick's good mates, was staring at you, worry digging down the corners of his mouth. 

"Uhm, I- I'm sorry. I have to go." You couldn't stop and risk getting caught again, so you started running, leaving Sai looking at your disappearing form.

You fled outside, already texting your mother. You hid until you saw the familiar form of the family car. Sprinting towards it, you climbed in as fast as you could. 

"Well, someone's in a hurry to come home." chuckled your mother as she headed towards the exit. "The party wasn't fun?"

Forehead resting on the cold window, you couldn't say a word. If you were honest, you could barely register what your mother said. All you could feel was his hands on you. His lips on your neck. The phantom sensations gave you the horrible feeling that he was still grabbing you. That you were still trapped up there. 

Your mother's touch on your arm brought you back to reality. "Are you okay, darling?" Even the soft touch on your arm was enough to make you shudder. "Y/n, did something happen?"

Your gaze connected with hers for a split second, but you willed the fear in your eyes to disappear. To go back to a dissociated gaze. Allowing nothing to show.

"I don't want to talk about it now," you mumbled while covering the tear in your shirt with your hoodie. You needed to comprehend what had happened before you could say something. Even if you wanted to, the words were stuck in your throat.

Your mother stayed silent for the rest of the ride, although you could feel her gaze on you a few times. You felt like she'd say something until she faced the road again without adding a word. 

When you finally pulled into the driveway, you made for the door. You wanted nothing else but to disappear into your room. Your escape was halted when your mom grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You winced at the pain it inflicted and the reminder it brought. The look in your eyes was one of undiluted terror.

Her face turned white as a ghost's. "Y/n, I will give you your space for now, but I want you to know and understand that we will discuss this."

Your house was filled with music and happy voices. You could hear through cotton-filled ears someone call your name but didn't stop. When you slipped into your room, you stood in the dark and looked at your wrist. The red mark on it was already turning to a soft purple. A whimper escaped your mouth as you sunk to the floor.

You cried and cried and cried. The adrenaline had left your body, and the walls you had built around you to survive had been torn down. With a hand on your mouth, you tried to maintain your sobs to a minimum volume. 

What the actual fuck was all you could manage to think. 

Catching a glance of yourself in the mirror hanging on your wall, a wave of disgust ravaged you. In the darkness, like glow-in-the-dark marks, you could see the print of his hands on you, the sloppy marks he left on your neck. You felt disgusting. You needed to wash this off now. 

You headed for the bathroom, trying not to attract anyone's attention. You were about to grab the doorknob when the door opened on a surprised Tara.

"Oh my god, Y/n, you scared me! I didn't know you were here," she exclaimed with her usual cheerfulness. 

You stayed silent, feeling like you had been caught red-handed. Shame crept on your cheeks.

In a second, she analyzed the state you were in. The tear on the collar of your shirt. Your puffy eyes, your red cheeks. "What happened to you? What happened to your shirt? Are you okay?" 

Her sweet concern was all it took for you to tumble into tears again. She helped you back to your room, supporting and hugging you tight. You babbled incoherently about what had happened. You just needed these horrible words to be out of your system. You needed this unbearable reality out of your head, needed the constant litany of words to stop. 

Tara listened to your whole story and managed to understand through your sobs. As you finished, out of breath, she convinced you to let her get Nick. You dreaded it at first, so scared to see his reaction, but the once-in-a-while seriousness in Tara's tone managed to persuade you.

You heard her going down the stairs and waited in silence. You held your breath. The house was utterly silent as if it was also holding its breath. Then, it erupted, and all you could hear was someone climbing up the stairs at an alarming pace. Your door opened on a whim, almost digging a hole in your wall with how strongly it went flying back.

Your twin brother was standing on your doorstep, his chest going up and down quickly. He didn't say anything. He just scanned you from head to toe before reaching out his arms. Engulfing you in a tight embrace, he rocked you back and forth.

"Tell me," was all he said, his tone hoarse and hard.

"I was anxious and bored, and this guy asked me to dance. We did, and then he offered to get some water and air. I followed him but felt this grip in my gut. Felt like something was off. He led me to a dark room. I refused to go in and said I had to go, but then he backed me into this wall. Saying stuff about what other people thought about me and about some bet he'd made with his friends. I- I tried escaping Nick, I really did, I promise. I kept my distance, I told him to go away, but he wouldn't. I pushed him and tried to make a run for it, but he grabbed my wrist and started touching me. I managed to defend myself and get away. I ran into someone. I think it was Sai. I stopped for a second but couldn't tell him anything, so I ran again and hid until Mum came to pick me up."

The silence in your room was deafening. His whole being was at a standstill. Nick wasn't known to be a violent person. Quite the opposite, but you felt like that was about to change.

"Show me where he hurt you." 

You extended your wrist, the mark gone even darker than before. 

"Anywhere else?" he reluctantly asked.

You couldn't, and wouldn't, show him where precisely but managed to wave your hand towards your neck and upper body. Shame once again invaded your cells. His eyes filled with despair and so much rage. He hugged you tight again. "I'm going to kill him."

You whipped your head up. The look in your brother's eyes was one you had never seen before. Immediately, guilt flooded your thoughts.

"Nick, you can't get involved in this. I'm so sorry I got into all this trouble. I don't want it to affect you at school. I shouldn't have followed him. This is my fault."

He looked at you incredulously. As if you had just said the dumbest thing he had ever heard. 

"Y/n, you didn't get in trouble. Someone assaulted you. You are not at fault here. Do you understand? Because I really need you to." He tightened his grip on you, his cheek on the crown of your head. "I don't need you to pull some Charlie number on me."

"A Charlie number, uh?" you heard a familiar voice speak up. 

Charlie's head peeked from your door. The face of comfort and reassurance. "Can I come in?" You nodded as he made his way to the bed. "Although I'm not sure what exactly he's referring to, I'm pretty sure he's right. You shouldn't feel guilty for something someone did to you, okay? Especially for something like this."

You saw the hint of pain flashing in his eyes and remembered he had experienced something similar. 

He reached a hand you immediately grabbed. You had loved Charlie since that first day he came to your house to meet Nellie. There was something about him that always made you feel safe and comfortable. His presence here meant a lot to you. "You okay?" 

You still weren't precisely grabbing the heaviness of what had happened. But the support you were shown helped you manage the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. You nodded feebly.

"What do you want to do?" finally asked Nick. "Can we do anything for you right now?"

You confessed you did not want to be alone tonight. You dreaded being left with your thoughts, scared they would swallow you whole. "I just want to feel safe," you whispered.

The words were like a dagger to Nick and Charlie's hearts. They both felt so guilty about not being there to protect you. What happened tonight brought them back to the beginning of their relationship. When Charlie had been through the same thing you just did. It awakened so many unpleasant and painful memories in their hearts.

"Of course. We can stay with you all night," said Nick with a kind smile, and you knew he meant it.

He offered to watch a movie, knowing that was your thing when you needed comfort. He felt that nothing he could do would help you heal from the experience you just had, but he'd do anything in his power to make you feel better. Your eyes light up at the suggestion, and he couldn't help a loving smile from lighting up his face. 

"The gang is still down there. If you want, I can ask them to leave?" suggested Charlie. "Even I can go home if you would rather be alone with your family. That'd be totally understandable."

If you were being honest, you would love for them to stay. The more, the merrier, and Nick's friends were such a cheerful and caring group. You knew they would be supportive. You hesitated, on the edge of saying yes. 

Nick felt your hesitation and put a hand atop Charlie and yours. "We can ask everyone to leave if you want to, no problem. But if you feel comfortable and want them here, I know they'd love to." 

You finally admitted you'd love for them to stay. Charlie went downstairs to fill them in. Leaving you in the room, still wrapped in your brother's arms. Both of you weren't ready to move just yet.

"If you want them to leave or need anything at any moment, I want you to come straight to me. Is that clear?" You nodded. "And while they set everything up, I have to tell Mum. She's worried sick, and rightfully so." 

You nodded once again, knowing she deserved to know. Still, you couldn't help your stomach from twisting in knots at the thought of this thing spreading out. 

Always so observant, Nick noticed how scared you looked. "Please, trust me, let me handle this. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just let me deal with it. You can lean on me." You mumbled an 'okay' as he kissed the top of your hair. 

An invisible promise to protect you forever.

The gang all split up to help make you feel better. Elle, Tara, and Darcy helped you clean up. You didn't want to be alone. So when you looked anxious to step in the bathroom, they all suggested they'd sit down in there, waiting for you. They were incredibly caring and supportive. Acting like this wasn't out of the blue and odd. You knew Nick and Charlie had filled them in, but none dared to say a thing. Their respect for your privacy and light chatting were both things you were incredibly grateful for. In the meantime, Tao and Isaac prepared the living room for the movie. They went all out and built a fort of pillows and blankets with snacks, ready to welcome you when you were done.

As for Nick and Charlie, they were dealing with the situation. They told everything to your mum and contacted Sai to find out what he'd seen. He immediately admitted seeing you running away from a corridor, shirt torn up, with tears running down your face. He found the guy in question, still catching his breath, and pieced two and two together. He even got him to admit the whole thing. He questioned some guys and even confirmed the horrible rumor of the bet. It had taken everything, and encouragement from Charlie, for Nick to stay put and not rush back there to beat his ass. Even your 'anti-violence' mother kept her mouth shut while Nick uttered threats, each worse than the other. The next day would already be horrible enough for the guy without Nick having to get in trouble had reassured his boyfriend.

Forty-five minutes later, you were all covered in blankets, resting on pillows, cuddled up together. Nick and Charlie were sitting on either side of you. Your brother's arm reached around you and his boyfriend. 

The rest of the gang was scattered around the floor and the couch, but you were still all touching. Forming an unbreakable chain of support and love. 

You looked around and felt so grateful as you looked at the people present. Nick squeezed your hand with a kind smile, a quick check-up to confirm you were still okay. You cleared your throat, gathering everyone's attention. The movie softly played in the background while you started, "I wanted to thank you for this. You have all been incredible. Thank you for helping me, and I hope you can forgive me for interrupting your end-of-exams party." 

"Hush with that. As if we'd ever be mad for something like this." intervened Elle. She put a comforting hand on your shin, her features so open and caring. You couldn't help but give her an answering smile.

"Did you really think we'd resent you for what happened tonight?" inquired Charlie. Once again, a light of understanding sparkled in his blue eyes.

"No, but it's just... This was your thing. Your party, and once again, I'm intruding in and forcing you guys to hang out with me."

"Forcing us?!" cut Tara. "Y/n, I don't think anyone here would feel forced to hang out with you. We like hanging out with you!"

Your eyes shone with surprise and something like relief. They all looked at each other incredulously. Not quite believing that you didn't know how much they liked you. "What?! Did you think we only thought of you as Nick's little sister?"

You turned your head towards a disbelieving Tao. Your shy silence was an answer in itself.

"You have great taste in movies. Plus, you have a lot of knowledge about the cinematic universe. I like hanging out with you because you're the only one in this group with decent expertise of the culture." He added enthusiastically. Pronouncing that last word with his usual mediocre impression of a Scottish accent, he extorted a laugh from your chest.

"And you like to dance, and for some reason, you get Darcy's poor sense of humor," added Tara with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. To which her girlfriend lightly tapped her leg in protest.

"And you're into art, and you're actually the only one in this group who can give me constructive criticism about my work." Your gaze dropped back to Elle, giving an accusatory look at the rest of the group.

"And you're the only one willing to have a book club with me. Don't think I can talk and have actual discussions with this lot about all the books I read," finished Isaac with a shy smile. He was the first in the gang, after Charlie, with whom you felt really close. You squeezed his hand as a silent thanks.

"We're trying to tell you how you mean so much more to us. You're Y/n Nelson. We like hanging out with you because you're a great person with great interests. Not because we have to. Not because you're Nick's sister." explained Charlie. He knew how it felt when you thought people didn't honestly like you. Or when you thought they'd be better off without you. He saw so much of himself inside of you. It made his heart tighten with sadness and love.

You stared at them all, a few tears burning in the corners of your eyes. You coughed, trying to hide the emotion flaring up in you.

"You are part of this group if you want to Y/n." Charlie nudged you with his shoulder as if he had read your thoughts. You lifted hopeful eyes towards him. You felt as if your heart might burst with joy.

"I-"

"I'm not giving you any choice." cut Darcy out of the blue."You are part of the gang. Nothing you can do about it." she declared. As always, her unexpected comment had everyone laughing. You looked at her triumphant face, euphoria spreading in your chest.

You looked at your brother, who was already beaming at you, pride and joy mixed in that sweet expression. The tears in your eyes welled up and, against the better of you, softly dropped on your cheeks. 

"Are these tears of joy...?" asked Isaac, speaking for the whole group. You had been through a lot tonight, and they had hoped their intervention would have made you happy. But they questioned if it had been too much, too soon.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Yes."

In a team effort, the whole gang jumped on you. Engulfing your body in an embrace of warmth, love, and laughter, a lot of laughter. 

"I'm so sorry for being such a..." 

You stopped mid-sentence when you felt a pinch on your arm, only to hear Nick whisper, "From now on, you are also banned from saying the 's' word. So shut it and enjoy." The whole group, including yourself, erupted in laughter. 

There would be a lot of hardships coming in the next few days, but knowing you had them all made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you'd be able to weather it.

[were--ralph]

Which was better; Prisoner of Azkaban werewolf, or Twilight series werewolf? Or secret third option; you'd rather fuck the legendary cum-coconut than choose either of them.

twilight because harry potter is shit and we hate jk rowling. even if its a feral wolf you can get a free ride to work and you dont have to have sex with it though technically it is half human and can consent so its in a grey area im not touching

[therealvinelle]

I love the Agatha Christie question!

Who are your HP/Twilight faves in the Christie universe? (Who’s the opportunist who knows too much and dies for it? Who’s the conman killer who courts the girl to avoid suspicion? Who’s just trying to take a holiday and gets caught-up in a murder? Who are the dynamic mystery-solving duo who realize they are in love by the end of the novel? etc.).

I mean, that is kind of what The Man Who Would Be King (and secret fic) (both cowritten with @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin) have already become. We have our murder victim, Alphard, a very rich man with a colorful family, and possibly his sister, we have our unlikely detectives in Voldemort, Lily Potter, and Alphard himself. It may not be the center of the story but it's a large part of it.

In other words my answer for Harry Potter would somehow spoil all my present and future fics so I won't.

As for the Twilight version...

I vote we do it wealthy dysfunctional family style, it's most natural.

A patriarch is poisoned

Carlisle Cullen, a very wealthy man with powerful enemies, nonetheless dear to those around him and blessed with more friends than most, is found dead in his office one morning. Cause of death? Murder.

The police, caught on the detail that Dr. Cullen was a vampire and vampires are real, what the fuck is this on the doctor's autopsy table and is he going to wake up again and drink all our blood?, are little use in the investigation. Scotland Yard is soon brought in, and using Chief Swan's connections with the family they get a better picture of Dr. Cullen's life.

His family wasn't looking to inherit him anytime soon, as he was immortal. None of them were having money troubles however, all were independently wealthy.

He had made enemies of a thousand-year-old clan of powerful vampires, who on hearing that his murder is being investigated like this get very upset. Supposedly the victim lived with them in his youth (and inspector Craddock cries when he learns the timeline for this murder goes back to the 1600s. Are they going to have to bring historians in on this murder??), he might have known something

Oh what's that? The victim had a whole network of friends across the globe, who are all killers, and he knew everyone's secrets? ... do we have the budget to investigate this?

The victim was also living next to a tribe of magical shapeshifting wolves evolved specifically to kill his kind. They liked him best and had a line in their treaty that "he dies last". Not sure what to do with this information

Rosalie Hale missing person case from 1933 solved: Carlisle Cullen adopted her. Was she recognised, did someone piece it together, and was Carlisle killed in retribution?

The victim lived a fake life of fake papers. Could be important, except it's the most normal thing about this case.

The police wonder how this man didn't get murdered sooner, and are stretched so thin the investigation is going slowly.

So, Renesmee gets to be our plucky detective du jour, as she decides to see if she can help. Surely there is no harm in her poking around, and she's well liked around the vampire world so there might be answers she can get that human police can't, partly because policemen keep getting eaten.

She slowly narrows it down to the horrible realization that it was someone in the family, and she learns terrible things.

Jasper Hale wasn't Jasper Hale at all! He was a friend of Jasper's in the newborn army who wanted a new life, and who in the wake of Jasper's suden and unexpected death assumed his identity. He had Peter bite his entire face so he'd be scarred like Jasper had been, and vouch for this blond vampire most definitely being Jasper Hale. Peter later had to die because he Knew Too Much, and so did Charlotte, regrettably. Fake Jasper did however not kill Carlisle.

Edward seems a prime suspect, he is an angry and resentful young man who acts out. Everyone thinks he did it, and that Bella should certainly marry Jacob, the safer option. Much upheaval is had, however, once Renesmee is able to clear Edward's name and he meaningfully links arms with Bella. They sail off into the sunset with their inheritance.

Rosalie is a beautiful, cold, intimidating woman, the femme fatale sort who's surely conniving. It's a bit of a mystery why she married that poor fool Emmett, but it's clear to all she doesn't love him. No clear motive from her, other than the money she would inherit, but she's just so suspicious. Her alibi is ambiguous, she claims she was with Esme and Emmett but what if Esme and Emmett are lying to protect their daughter and wife? Superintendent Battle wonders about that.

Renesmee is at a loss.

And then she realizes that it's not Rosalie who acts like she doesn't love Emmett, it's Emmett who acts like he doesn't love her! And Esme's grieving widow act is just that, it's an act!

Renesmee realizes that Emmett and Esme are lovers, and killed Carlisle together. Esme committed it while Emmett tricked Rosalie into giving her an alibi. Renesmee realizes this once she has a "But Rosalie couldn't have seen Esme from that angle!" moment.

The plan was too pin Rosalie for the murder, see her hanged, and then in due time the mourning widowers would marry, happily entitled to all the money they couldn't have touched if they'd divorced. Also Rosalie was Catholic so she wouldn't have agreed to a divorce.

The two lovers are confronted, and Esme pulls out a tiny pearl-studded gun from her shoe, says "We tried, my love. I regret nothing" before shooting first Emmett, then herself.

[saturnsocoolioyep]

I have a panel I'm trying to plan for an upcoming con and I figured there's no better place than tumblr to ask for help with it

The premise is basically just a kahoot game that asks questions about older fandoms, be it insane plot beats in the story (a la ICP becoming the first dual presidents of the United States and Guy Fieri being the antichrist in Homestuck) or insane fandom drama (such as the time a klance shipper tried to blackmail the voltron writers into making it canon, the rainbow dash cum jar, the sharpie bath, etc)

The problem is, I was never super involved in older fandoms (because I was a child who didn't know fandoms existed yet lol) and am therefore somewhat uninformed and my list of potential questions is very much incomplete for a 50 minute kahoot game

If anyone could send me asks or DMs with ideas for questions or even just ramble about topics I could include, I'd be really grateful for the help!

Fandoms I would love info on are such as:

(Putting under read more so as to not totally clog people's dashes, reblogs are appreciated btw!)

-Superwholock

-Hetalia

-danganronpa

-MLP

-Homestuck

-Voltron

-Ouran Highschool Host Club

-Warrior Cats

-Harry Potter (I know, I know, but my immortal fits into this category so I've gotta include it)

-Yugioh

-Beyblade

-TF2

-Kingdom Hearts

-Invader Zim

-Creepypasta fandom

-Rick & Morty

-Gravity Falls

-Steven Universe

-Twilight

-2017 musical fandoms (Hamilton, BMC, DEH, Heathers, etc)

-Bandom

-1D fandom

-yandere simulator

-sonic

-onceler fandom

-eddsworld

-phandom

And any sort of adjacent fandoms/medias that I haven't mentioned! Feel free to tag/add on if you have suggestions!

[ceilidho]

What do you recommend to get into writing.?

I have so many ideas in my brain, but I lack the skill. I mean, I know I can write, I’ve written a short story before (back in High School). But I just can’t seem to get my ideas out on paper how I want it to. I guess what I am asking is what do you think helped you write or at least perfect your craft.? You write so beautifully and so vividly. It’s my dream to be able to write like that.

:)

thank you so much!!

mmmm honestly, just writing and reading a lot. unfortunately, it's a skill that you just need to do over and over again in order to get good at it. i've written a lot of very short drabbles (like quick, 1000 word scenes), the first chapter of like a hundred different novels (and then giving up immediately after), poems, short stories, one-shots and incomplete fics for countless fandoms (harry potter, artemis fowl, twilight, naruto, etc). i think i wrote my first story when i was like 12 years old or something, so i've been working at it for a very long time.

and i've taken really long breaks in between (like, 2018-mid 2020 was a wash...i was in school, so i only had the energy to write my essays), so reading a lot is the other half of the equation. it'll help you develop your vocabulary and internal rolodex of expressions/colloquialisms, help develop your taste in literature, and help you start understanding the anatomy of a book (like what makes a good first act, second act, twist, etc).

also, it helps if you can convince yourself that there's nothing really at stake when posting a fic. like, if no one likes it, it's not the end of the world. if you're a bit rusty at first and you're not super confident in your writing skills, it doesn't matter. also, remind yourself that you're already a million times better than any "AI writer" because at least you have the courage to actually try.

and i definitely don't think i've "perfected my craft" btw, i see soooo many faults in my writing and things i need to improve on because as you get better, your standards get higher. idk if there's a moment when you ever reach perfection or whatever. you just keep working at it forever lmaooo

[thekatebridgerton]

A little venting post about the changes made to the show.

Sometimes I miss the era where book adaptations were true to their source material. Lord of the rings, Harry Potter, pride and prejudice, Twilight, The Hunger Games. Books with adaptations that literally had the power to change whole generations. Create such a cultural impact that we'll still be defining facets of our personalities by their influence for years to come.

And I think that those books had so much success as adaptations because the people who made them understood that watching the movie had to be an interactive experience between a person and their book. Not just their screen. People would finish watching the movie, go home, read the book and feel connected to a story where they knew the ending. So giddy and excited to know something they thought other movie goers didn't know. This made the experience exciting! It made it interactive enough to cause an impact.

I recently watched Lord of the Rings (yes the whole 24 hrs of it) and I realized how much I miss that excitement. That same warm blanket of knowing the ending that I experienced when I watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

Bridgerton showrunners are so obsessed with delivering something with a 'plot twist' or 'different from the books' that they completely miss the point of how big franchises managed to make their adaptations impactful. So focused on curating the source material to make it more 'original' and new. So focused on driving up buzzfeed articles that read ' 100 ways Bridgerton season 2 was different from the books' that they alienate the interactive experience that exists in a viewer who enjoys reading.

Call me a book purist or maybe I felt sad today because I saw yet another article titled ' 10 reasons why Eloise storyline shouldn't follow the books' but it sucks to have creators spit on the books you love. It sucks to watch an adaptation that looks like fanfiction because it's all the media is currently offering. And you just wanted to see Kate bite Anthony's ankle and laugh. But you have to put up with all the changes of season 2 because complaining is met with an ' oh we wanted to do something different from the book, we wanted to surprise viewers'

Excuse me showrunners, I liked that book, what's wrong with liking that book? What was so offensive about it you had to turn it into something so far away from the source material the Author herself had to come out and say ' the books are the books and the show is the show' basically drawing a line between her creation and the show she authorized to adapt said work.

Netflix If the books I loved were so bad you felt they needed to be changed so much for an adaptation, then why adapt them at all? Why not find some kind nice very much in need of their big break author who has written a story that looks like the narrative you've got in mind.

As a reader I loved all the storylines as they stood. To me it would have been a giddy and exiting experience to be able to follow the show along with the source material. And I'm so sick and tired of show viewers and basically all the sensationalist media like buzzfeed and screenrant implying and outright saying that there is something wrong... with people like me. Who simply liked the books as they were. Because that's how they treat us, and that's what they think and it makes me sad.

And as I wait for season 3 I I sit and wait to see how many ' 100 ways the show is better than Romancing Mr Bridgerton because of how much the showrunners decided to change ' articles start poping up on my feed as soon as it's released. Because it will happen and as a reader you feel so powerless and confused, because all the media kees saying is that you're not allowed to feel angry, because even getting an adaptation is supposed to be a good thing, so don't start being a Debbie downer about the changes made for the screen. The book you loved was outdated anyway, the book you loved was boring anyway, the book you loved needed more excitement anyway.... And the message you keep getting is that The things you loved needed to stop looking like the things you loved, to be worthy of the masses attention

So what does that say about you?

Tomorrow, maybe I'll be back to being my usual positive self. Tomorrow I'll look at the bright side and feel ever so grateful that Julia Quinn's work is on screen. But for today, just for today. I needed to get that off my chest.

[joe-spookyy]

hi today i’m ranking werewolf designs based on how much i judged the vfx team for creating them. full post under cut sorry it’s so insanely long but trust me on this one it’s fun i’m discussing an american werewolf in london harry potter twilight the wolf man buffy the vampire slayer etc and so on (except not etc that’s it.) my credentials are i’m insane about werewolf narratives and i’m the boss of the applesauce.

first up is an american werewolf in london. now THAT is a good beast. he’s spooky. he’s scary. he’s wolf-like but not Just a wolf. and they get some mega extra points for that transformation sequence. rick baker the man that you are. however as much as i love it there’s a few critiques i have to bring up. first. it’s kinda odd that so much of the color palette for the transformation scene was browns and blacks when the actual werewolf was mostly grey. the final product was a little off from the transformation. i did like both of them quite a lot though so i’m not that mad. see. look. kind of off. but it’s definitely not bad i can mostly see how one came from the other even though the colors might be a little different. it also sort of lacks in facial movement in its final form as it’s kind of stuck in that permanent snarl, but they did a good job softening its eyes in the final scene where alex is trying to get through to david. 9/10.

mid-transformation fully transformed

next up yeah i have stuff to say about the harry potter prisoner of azkaban remus lupin design. is it fuck ugly. yes. is it cgi. yes. is jk rowling responsible for it. yeah. however. is it kind of a creative take on the typical werewolf idea. i hate to say it. yes it is. it goes against the typical sorta big strong hunky beast werewolf, and i cant lie, i appreciate it. it’s unique and kinda haunting in its own way. i don’t like that it’s bald. but i like the boldness and well. they got creative. 6/10.

ugly fucking freak ⬆️

next i’m going back. way back. yes sir we’re looking at werewolf of london. from 1935. and the wolf man. from 1941. cause they look pretty similar and they’re both jack pierce so yeah i’m lumping them together. if you ask me these ones lean more to the side of wolfman than werewolf - they’re kind of just hairy guys. which is like fine i guess i just think they should put more emphasis on the wolf. i like the wolfman better than the werewolf of london, which makes sense, cause i know the guy playing the london one didn’t feel like sitting for makeup and so jack pierce got to do more on the second round i guess. however WHY was bela lugosi’s werewolf form a straight up wolf and not lon chaney’s? they don’t explain it. rude. they’re iconic of course but they are honestly not showstopping. 5/10.

werewolf of london the wolf man

alright we’re flashing back to the present with twilight!! yeah. ok so last time i was complaining about there being too much man and not enough wolf. or like. too much were? i don’t know. whatever. anyways. this time i’m complaining because it’s too wolf. that’s just. it’s just a big cgi wolf. i don’t like this. it’s boring. i don’t even have that much to say it’s just like. whatever. 2/10.

lame as hell ⬆️

now. i’m gonna get irritating here. next up is buffy the vampire slayer. now i love oz. i wanted to like the design i really did. and they started out off strong. well. strongER. it’s like. kinda bad. but it definitely looks like a wolf? and it’s. kind of person ish? i don’t know. they tried. the bodysuit is loose but it’s better than what’s to come so i have to give it like a tiny bit of respect. 4/10.

see? not great but could be significantly worse.

and it does get worse. so. let me speak. this is the worst thing i have ever seen in my entire goddamn life. that looks like a gorilla. there’s like barely any semblance of wolf on this other than that it has fur. i don’t understand why they decided to go in this direction it looks terrible. and the body suit part always looks loose as hell. it comes across as like an ugly gorilla mascot suit, and they make no effort to have it move in a remotely wolf-ish way. they usually just have it scuttling around like some sort of little freak. oz does not deserve this ugly shit. i love buffy and wanted to enjoy the werewolf episodes but lord have mercy. this sucks. whoever did this i’m gonna find you. 0/10.

oz (bad) evil bitch veruca (worse)

that’s all the werewolves i can think of right now actually. and it won’t let me add more pictures cause i’m on mobile. in conclusion an american werewolf in london did it best and every other depiction of a werewolf should be looking to that for inspiration. but fight me on these by all means i may have objectively correct werewolf opinions but that doesn’t mean i’m not open to discussion. thanks for watching #sparkleon

[silly-little-gooses]

my book hot takes!!!

DON’T JUDGE ME, THESE ARE MY OPINIONS PLS DON’T CANCEL ME

~ I read the first acotar book and it was awful! I would love to make a whole other post abt this but the book was just terrible! I also read the first throne of glass book and I didn’t like it. sarah j maas just isn’t my fav author.

~ real people on the cover is SO UGLY. it takes all the magic out of the book.

~ the movie CAN be better than the book (ex: legally blonde, the devil wears prada)

~ all the harry potter spinoffs (while loved) are unnecessary (fantastic beasts, cursed child, etc)

~ making reading a competition takes all the fun out of reading :(

~ smut in books is never necessary for the plot, even if it’s romance

~ when books bring up real world problems like politics or covid, it ruins it a bit

~ colleen hoover books SUCK

~ audiobooks count as reading

~ books aren’t good by just being diverse. there are many factors that make up a good book.

~ you’re never too old for young adult or middle grade

~ it’s okay to write/annotate in books

~ used books deserve just as much as new books

~ in twilight, edward and jacob are both terrible love interests

~ severus snape doesn’t deserve forgiveness. (again, i can make a whole other post abt this)

~ heartstopper is SUPPOSED TO BE CRINGEY (book and the show)

~ when books use a bunch of fantasy/made up words at the beginning of the book without explaining anything is 🤢

anywayyyyyy pls don’t unalive me

[lilithslittleworld]

Masterlist <3 (By Fandom, character, and type)

Just a little reminder link to my character list and that requests are open!!

Twilight Saga:

Quileute Pack

Seth Clearwater:

Formal Crushing (fluff, oneshot)

Jacob Black:

New Moon if Edward had never come back (Chapters)

New To This (fluff, smut Jacob x Reader oneshot)

Cullens

Alice Cullen:

Our Little Secret (Alice x Bella smut)

Bella Swan/Cullen:

Our Little Secret (Bella x Alice smut)

Headcanons:

How Bella’s (and Alice’s) Graduation Party Actually Went (or should’ve gone): (headcanons)

Divergent Series:

Peter Hayes

All For You (smut, angst, some fluff. oneshot)

Jeanine Matthews

The Exception (fluff and angst oneshot)

Four/Tobias Eaton

Intruder (Four x reader smut, oneshot)

His Girl (Four x reader fluff, oneshot)

Character Headcanons:

How The Divergent Characters Would React To You Being Injured\In Pain (angst, fluff, headcanon)

Harry Potter Universe:

Weasleys

Fred Weasley:

Ambulo Aqua (Fred x fem reader, fluff)

Harry Potter Guys

Oliver Wood

Locker Room Tales (Oliver x gender neutral reader, fluff)

Harry Potter

The Chosen One (Harry x reader, smut)

Marauders era

Remus Lupin

What Better Way to Relax Than Sex? (Remus x fem reader, smut)

Harry Potter Headcannons

Doing It With The Harry Potter Characters Is Like (smut headcannons)

Top Gun Fandom:

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Hanging In There Series: Part 1 Jake "Hangman" Seresin Hanging In There Series: Part 1

The Hunger Games Series

[andreabaideas]

Headcanons for the DJATS characters middle names? I wish we'd gotten them, and not just Eddie's (Side note: Demetrius seems like a very out there middle name for him, I feel like he's probably embarrassed of it.)

Cool ask!!!

Yeah, I have them... I got to say that Demetrius sounds less typical than Edward, so at least Its original. I dont mind It XD I'll follow the show, cause It kinda inspires more ethnicity wise.

Well , lets start!

Eddie keeps his names the way they are so

"Edward Demetrius Roundtree"

Let's go with Camila :

I dont know how It goes on in all Argentina, but the female argentinians that I know that lives in Spain they usually have Only one name, or if they have two, then the second one Its either María or Isabel, so as i think Isabel sounds better combined with Camila, then It IS :

"Camila Isabel (née Álvarez) Dunne"

Lets continúe with Billy , Its easier for me , I kinda want It to sound Celtic so instead of the obvious Adam I went for Aidan, just cause I like the sound better. Also I was kinda tempted to name him Sam Finn or even Edmond ( nod to Sam Claflin and some of Its roles like Finnick or Edmond Dantes ) but I contained my weirdness XD

" William Aidan Dunne" (my prefered one)

Alts: William Finn Dunne / William Sam Dunne / William Edmond Dunne (This one actually sounds super cool too!!)

Continuing with Graham , he gets another one just cause I like the sound XD.

"Graham Cillian Dunne"

Warren won't have two, he doesnt need it, and he prefers It that way :

"Warren Rojas"

Karen gets something very posh like flowery or regal, as a British posh girl like :

Karen Marigold Sirko / Karen Euphemia Sirko / Karen Candance Sirko (then Candy Floss would make sense). Karen Marie Sirko Its the most possible. My prefered one Its the Candance one, to mod at Candy Floss.

"Karen Candance Sirko"

Lisa comes from Elizabeth, all the elizabeths i've known were Maries as second name so yup.

" Elizabeth Marie nee Crowne Rojas "

Rod comes from Roderick, which IS long enough. Roderick Reyes

Teddy can be from Edward or from Theodore so as i dont remember how It was in the book...XD

Theodore Edward Price

Bernie comes from Bernadette Mae Jackson (i'm giving her Simone's surname as they are married and I love them your honor)

Simone gets a cool one "Simone Dido Jackson"

Julia gets Julia Wilhelmina Dunne to honor her dad William/Billy. In some families It IS common to give the first kid the fathers name as the second name, instead of as the first one, which IS cool. New name + dad name Its better in my opinión, new identify plus tradition and everyone Its Happy. So Wilhelmina Its the female of William , can be shortened as Billie or Willow too, so Its cool!!

And last but not least : Margaret Jones as in the show, or Daisy as in the book. Logically It would be Margaret Marie Jones, but i'm not logical, It bores me soo...XD I Heard once Daisy Margaret (twice the same flower) too repetitive! , also Margaret Lily sound cool too! Daisy's Mom Its french, and her father was a painter...fancy painters name their kids more Margaret than Daisy, I liked that change in the show so...Also they get names like Isabella , Francesca or Florence (i've know like 5 British Girls named Iiked that with artistic parents XD) Florence would be too much like Florence Welch and Stevie too obvious from Stevie Nicks XD

Isabella, Lillian or Francesca works,I prefer Francesca, I already have a main character called Isabella (Twilight ) and also Lily Evans from Harry Potter, so as i want to write a ultra crazy crossover, those two can't be XD

So you have my 3 óptions Francesca Margaret Jones /Margaret Francesca Jones or Margaret Lillian Jones.

My fave one Its :

"Francesca Margaret Jones"

Looong but cool!!

Thanks !! ☺️👋

[trumpkinhotboy]

Chronic protective brother syndrome

Pairing: big brother!nick nelson x little sister!reader

Type: Request (thank you so much!!)

Warnings: Mention of fainting, having a chronic illness, but nothing too intense

Word count: 1900

Requests: Open! For Heartstopper, twilight wolfpack, chronicles of narnia and harry potter

A/n: honestly… i dont have much to say except that i love writing for requests and that big brother nick makes me weak in the knees. Hope you enjoy angels xxx

*gif is not mine

Summary: The reader has been living with diabetes her whole life. She's grown quite accustomed to it and manages it well with the help of her supportive family. Although sometimes, support can feel a little suffocating...

Through your 14 years of existence, you have grown quite accustomed to life with type 1 diabetes. As you grew up and became more conscious of what it meant to live with a chronic disease, you learned to accept and care for yourself quite well. 

Your mother, Sarah, was a real trooper and never let you down, always carrying you when you felt exhausted and done with your condition, which did happen more often than you care to admit. Luckily, you also had someone else in your corner: your older brother. 

Nick is known to be quite protective. Especially with the people he cares for. However, that aspect of his personality gained a new high when you were born, and your mother explained why you could never do everything just as he did. Of course, you would still be able to do most of them. You would simply need to be a little more careful. 

Sarah remembers very clearly the look in little Nick’s eyes when she explained why you were always sick. You were resting in bed after a substantial flare-up when his eyes welled up with tears. That's when he finally understood that there was something in your own body that would always try to fight and hurt itself. That’s also when he promised himself he would do everything to protect you. Your mum still tells that story with a few tears welling up in her eyes. 

Nick knew you could have a lot of complications from your disease. To avoid them, he always made sure you had everything you needed at all times. You usually didn't mind, seeing how your ADHD sometimes made it a little harder for you to remember to pack your stuff. Plus, the fatigue diabetes often fogged you with did not help in that department. 

The thing is you were now 14 years old, finally starting to make new friends and explore the jungle that is social life in high school. So when your 16-year-old brother comes over, and all your lady friends swoon over him, or worse, when he comes over to baby you, it gets a little irritating. Luckily, Nick was quite stubborn about that stuff and was not about to let you get hurt just because of the image you wanted to project.

That was until you made quite a scene in front of everyone.

You had been feeling particularly irritated and moody that day. So when you saw your brother walk over to you with a backup diabetes kit, which was his creation, you felt anger boil in your blood.

It did not help to hear some nasty year 10 make jokes from a picnic table near your friends and you. "Oh, would you look at that? Diabetes Nelson still needs her big brother to bring her her little drugs. I don't understand how someone like him could be related to her."

It was stupid. It wasn't even a good insult. Plus, the people who kept making comments were not something to be impressed with. Still, you couldn't help the shame from creeping on your cheeks.

So this time, when your big brother came to check on you and offered you your safety pouch, you refused.

"I already have the normal one. I don't need this one."

"I know, but I don't think you've put the new insulin shots in. I brought you the safety one just in case."

The snickers you heard from the people behind had you gritting your teeth. You couldn't understand their exact words, but you knew it wasn't positive. 

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch over me all day?" you hissed. "I'm not stupid Nick."

Your diabetes also made you prone to mood swings, mostly when your blood sugar levels were too high or low. That's why Nick usually did not make a big deal out of these outbursts, but this time felt different. Hurt flashed in his eyes, and briefly, you regretted the words.

"I never said that. I just want to make sure you have everything you need. You know the risks." His tone was soft, his gaze focused on you. He tried as much as he could not to make a big deal out of this, but your reaction had the exact opposite effect. He knew how the fear of being judged could make a person act in such a terrible way. 

"I don't need you to remind me how weak and useless my body is, okay? I'm the one living with diabetes, Nick. Not you." You whispered angrily.

You grabbed your bag and left him planted there without looking back. Nick and you were usually like two peas in a pod, and to leave him there hurt much more than you would care to admit. 

You got back in class, trying to act normal, but after an hour in, you felt queasy and feeble. You had indulged in some sweets some friends offered after your altercation with Nick, brushing off the risk with your ongoing anger. Subtly, you pricked your finger and couldn't help your eyes from growing two sizes when you saw the little numbers your tracker presented. You were in hyperglycemia and urgently needed to get a shot of insulin. Swiftly, you asked to be excused from the class and headed for the bathroom. The walls seemed to shake around you, and your vision kept warping up. Cursing yourself for being this dumb, you opened your bag with shaking hands, searching for your shots.

"Shit."

There was only one thing worse than fighting with Nick, and it was when you realized he had been right. You mumbled under your breath, trying to stay calm and figure out a quick solution because this was becoming urgent, and you needed the care right now. Calling Nick would do no good since he was at Truham anyway. You decided to head back to class to ask for your teacher's help, but once you tried climbing the stairs, a thousand little dots started dancing around. You were able to mutter an 'I feel kinda dizzy' before everything turned black.

You awoke to a commotion. Distorted sounds and everything around you moved too fast to register. Someone was holding your hand while you felt a pinch in your arm. 

"It's okay, it's okay Y/n. You're going to be okay. I'm here."

You knew that voice. You lifted your gaze with an effort and only saw a flash of red hair before darkness swallowed you once more.

This time, when you woke up, everything was silent and peaceful. You were lying in a bed, a hospital bed, with an IV drip set up in your arm. Nick was resting in the chair next to you, his worried eyes set on his phone as he quickly typed.

"Hey," you croaked. 

His head whipped up in surprise when he heard your voice. He immediately dropped his phone to come by your side. His hand flew to your forehead. The coolness of it felt incredibly refreshing as you leaned into the touch.

"Hey, kid," he whispered. He tried putting a smile on his face, but it couldn't hide the worry he was truly feeling.

"So, I'm guessing I fainted? And someone found me? And they panicked ?"

"Panicked is an understatement."

He explained that Imogen found you at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't know whether you had fallen from them or just fainted at the bottom, so she immediately called for help and texted him.

"I ran to Higgs faster than Charlie ever could," he added with a smirk, his joke stealing a chuckle from your chest.

"I'm sorry for causing such a commotion. I should wear a bracelet that says fainting is normal for me so people won't worry."

His gaze hardened at your comment. "Fainting is not normal for you. It's a bad sign, and you know it."

You sheepishly dropped your gaze. Okay, he wasn't ready to make jokes about it yet. Charlie would have laughed, you secretly thought.

"I don't understand why you pulled that crap. I just wanted to help you." 

You lay back in bed with a sigh and covered your eyes with your forearm. You did know Nick only wanted to help, but still. His kind gestures irritated you so much sometimes.

"It's already hard enough to be the sick kid. That was my only thing when I was in middle school. I thought now I could step away from it, that I could be someone else. Be known for other things than my messed up immune system." 

You noticed Nick's expression softened once you uncovered your eyes. 

"And I know you want to help and trust me, I appreciate it. It's just that sometimes it feels like you don't believe in me. Like you don't think I'm capable of doing stuff. Instead of helping me become stronger, you keep worrying me with your horror scenarios."

It was now Nick's turn to look all sheepish and guilty. You might have been right in saying he tended to get a little paranoid when you wanted to try new things. He only thought about protecting you. He never realized the effect it would have on your self-esteem. 

"I'm tired of being afraid. I've looked it up, and there are so many people with diabetes who are doing amazing things. I can stay healthy and still be a badass kid who tries new stuff."

He looked up, his eyes holding so much uncertainty and fear. Though through it all, love was the strongest thing in his gaze. He grabbed your hand once again with a tight smile.

"I hear you, I'm sorry. I never thought it would make you feel like this, or else I wouldn't have done it."

"Nick." You gave him a knowing look.

"Okay, okay. I might have still done it, but only because you're my baby sister, and I want you to be healthy and have a long, long life, okay?"

You nodded while tightening your grip on his hand. 

"I promise I will be less overbearing, and I will support you in whatever new thing you want to try."

"Thanks, Nick, and for school, could you maybe not come and do your big brother number in front of all my friends? I appreciate the gesture, but I'm over dealing with the dumbasses." 

He sighed heavily but still agreed to your request. "About that, just a piece of advice. I've learned that sometimes the thing we are afraid will show our weakness or vulnerability only does when we allow it to. Once you reclaim your power and own it, it all switches around. Anyone who has something to say about it will suddenly disappear, or you won't care what they have to say anymore."

You nodded sheepishly. You honestly didn't care about your diabetes. I mean, it could be a gigantic pain, and you would have to be careful for the rest of your life. But all in all, you were pretty lucky. You had your condition mostly under control when you weren't a sassy dumbass, and you had the best support system someone could wish for. 

"Look at me. You're going to be okay kiddo." Your brother squeezed your hand tighter in a reassuring motion. 

You lifted your head to meet his supportive gaze and smiled in return. Yes, you would be okay.