#couple reasons why they wouldn't. No. 1 is that you could write something for someone

[cloud-somersault]

when people make posts about what they want to see more of in fics, i'm kinda like 🧍‍♀️ ....what is the expectation, like what does that do....

other than other people agreeing and being like "YEAH i'd love to see that too!" like what else does it do......

[gothicfied]

https://www.tumblr.com/gothicfied/784292304227827712/the-devil-in-your-eyes-wont-deny-the-lies

of course we want a part two omg

I DON'T WANNA GET UNDRESSED FOR A NEW PERSON ALL OVER AGAIN

(read part 1 here)

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

Summary: After the awful summer you had because of a certain Jude Bellingham, you were more than hesitant to accept the invite to go to the first El Clasico of the season. You were seeing someone and you honestly didn't have the time to spare for Jude, but you felt like you had to go anyways to get things straight.

Word Count: ~4.9k

Reading Time: ~20 Minutes

Warnings: Slight swearing, Reader is still struggling with her feelings most of the time, Jude is thankfully not an asshole anymore, probably an unsatisfying ending, still hopeful ending, much more fluff than angst, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Tag(s): @jsprien213

A/N: I'm really having fun with this little series and I'm planning on resolving everything in a third part, don't worry. I wrote this in like a day, so don't mind any spelling mistakes and sorry if something doesn't make sense. I'm personally sorry to Jude for writing him this way lolololol Inspiration was this song👇

Love is an intense feeling of deep affection. It is what builds up the world, creates new life and makes life worth living. Or, in your case, it'll completely destroy your emotions and friendships you didn't think you could lose.

That night where Jude absolutely did not want to leave your side and actually did wait for you outside the guest room until almost 3:00 in the morning was when you were sure you'd never want to see that man ever again. Eventually, though, you did open the door for him, because... well, you felt bad. Jude wasn't even asleep or on his phone and it was clear that he had shed a tear or two. He wasn't an overly emotional man and wouldn't let himself cry, even if it meant it would save his life.

You were kind of ready to talk or at least give him the time to explain himself. But, it all got out of hand really fast: You couldn't controll your emotions either and just started screaming at him about nothing and everything all at once. Jude felt overwhelmed with the amount of information leaving your mouth and wasn't able to process everything to give you a good answer. Everything he said sounded wrong to your ears, which just made you more agitated. It was late, you had been crying and you had gotten no sleep the days before, ergo: You were tired. Tired and not in the right headspace.

Jude wouldn't ever yell at you. He did raise his voice a couple of times, but never got closer to you than three or four meters. His head was pounding and frankly, he did not have a good reason why he'd rather go for someone like Amy and not you, who he treated like his girlfriend basically all his life. Since he'd known you.

You threw him out of the room. And that was that. In the morning, you didn't go downstairs for a while, fearing you'd meet Jude there. The next day you left Spain anyway. He helped you get your luggage downstairs, but wouldn't look you in the eyes. Jude wasn't mad, he was more so disappointed in himself and very ashamed of what he did to you or made you feel.

He didn't go to the airport with you.

He didn't say a proper goodbye.

He didn't call you to check up on you after you landed back in England.

And you wouldn't either.

...

Sunmer's almost over and you felt like you've wasted all your time. Back home, you didn't have the energy to get out of the bed most days. It's not like your parents or your sister cared anyway and your brother wouldn't really understand what was going on. He was only six and to him Jude Bellingham was the best football player on earth. He adored him and was always so excited to see his big sister with his idol, hand in hand and what not. Poor kid, you'd have to tell him some time that things aren't like they were before.

Thankfully, your friends were there to occasionally drag you out of bed. Your best friend Alicia was definitely ready to swing at him if he ever dared to enter the UK again. You thought it was funny how protective she was and she was just glad she got you to smile for the first time in days. At home, you didn't quite know what to do with your time. You opted for finally taking school a bit more seriously and the whole preparing for the new semester did help you clear your head from all that's happened back in Spain.

Jude still wouldn't call you. You wouldn't text him or try to say sorry, because you thought you didn't have anything to be sorry for. Sure, you kind of felt bad for yelling at him and not giving him the chance to speak, but he was still the one who messed up and should contact you to straighten it out. You banished all his football jerseys he gave you to the back of your closet. At first, you just wanted to light them on fire and throw all the gifts he gave you right into it, but Alicia thankfully made you overthink your decision.

"I hate him! Who does he think he is, huh? What the fuck—" This went on and on for a few minutes while you paced around your room. This was just two days after you came back from Jude's and your best friend, who sat on your bed, didn't know how to console you in this situation. She watched in disbelief while you picked out every single on of his shirts, didn't matter if it was a Dortmund or England or Real Madrid kit, and threw it on the ground, swearing up and down you'd tear them into shreds and burn them until they were unrecognizable. "Okay, look," Alicia stopped you, "I get what you're going through. Really. He's an asshole and I know how much it must've hurt but... come on, burning this shit won't solve the problem." You stopped dead in your tracks and slowly turned around to her, looking like you're about to cry again. "What do you mean?" Alicia sighed, "Maybe you guys make up. What then? Do you really wanna explain what happened to all of those." She pointed at the pile of shirts on your floor, to which you sighed this time. "I don't know, girl. Maybe you're right."

Your life felt weird without the most important person in it. Jude was out of the picture and that allowed you to finally peruse other people for once. While the first two weeks felt like torture, where summer dragged itself out without reason and you just wanted to go back to your normal life style again, September felt like a fresh new start.

Alicia had made it her objective to set you up with as many people as possible. Drunken nights out have gotten you nowhere the past few years, because you always wanted to stay loyal to the man who has your heart. Well, who gives a shit now? Definitely not Jude.

And, you thought you were over with that chapter for now, until your phone rang: "Hey, can we talk?" You picked up without looking at the phone screen, so hearing a voice so similar to Jude's made you jump. It was Jobe. "Oh my god, hey! Yes of course we can, how are you?" Jobe was always like a little brother to you and truth be told, you had missed him greatly. "Yeah.. yeah no, I'm doing fine. Are you, though?"

"Uhhh..." You paused for a moment, "Yeah. Yes I'm good. School's been okay, not too many assignments yet. Haven't thought about dropping out yet, I think that's the important part." Jobe chuckled at the other end of line. "You know that's not what I'm really asking you, right?" Oh great. Of course he'd tell his brother. Jude and Jobe were each others best friends and their brotherly bond allowed them to to talk about everything, even the most private stuff. "Ugh, okay. What did he tell you?"

"Not much until now. Just that you two had this huge fight. I knew he was an idiot, but I would've never thought he'd throw you away like that."

"He didn't... throw me away, Jobe. Now that I'm thinking about it, he can't control who he likes. If it's not me then.. well, you know."

"Don't lie to me like that. I can hear you lying."

It sometimes bothered you a lot how Jobe was able to read you like a book. You sighed and nodded, even though he wasn't able to see it. For a few minutes, you told Jude's brother what really bothered you and what actually happened. By the sound of his voice, he would've flown down there and strangled his brother, if he had the chance.

"Mom's been asking for you. But Jude kinda told her all that and she's too afraid she'll step over any boundaries if she called you." You sighed again. It was like family drama back home.. back with your family.

"I'll talk to her, I promise." You knew Denise would want things to be straightened out between Jude and you, but you didn't know if you could ever do that. At least not in the next few months.

"Okay. Thanks. I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too." And Jobe hung up

Now you were able to sit with your thoughts for a moment. After a few minutes, you decided against calling Denise right away and just focused on getting ready for another night out with Alicia and your uni friends.

...

It's October. The end of October and it was the most perfect time of the year. Halloween was in sight and attending a University in England seemed to be the most aesthetic thing one could do. A few days ago, Denise had called you a second time after Jobe had told you about her conflict.

The topic was — sadly for you — the first El Clasico of the season that was right around the corner. You hadn't been into football these past couple of weeks, but you did notice that Real Madrid had an unusually weak start. Gossip pages on both TikTok and Instagram had already touched on the story around Jude: He wasn't meeting with Amy anymore and you were also not seen in a while. Intern sources claim there was a fight and now you wonder which one of those new friends you made in Madrid gave the intel. You weren't mad.

What gossip pages also talked about was you. You, without being linked to a footballer. For a month or so, you've been hanging out with a new guy — Joseph — a lot. He was nice, caring, fit and you did like him a lot. On the Internet, it's already being speculated if he's your new boyfriend.. as if Jude was your last. Amy, of course, also couldn't keep her dirty little fingers out of the situation and had to post 'cryptic' insta stories seemingly making fun of you. You chose your peace and ignored them. She was pathetic, you knew that now and you wouldn't let yourself be bothered by someone like her.

"I just want you to think about it, sweetheart. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay?" Denise voice rang out of your phone while you were slumped over a few books for your mandatory statistics course. She asked you to come down to Spain and be there for the match and well... Jude. More so for her, if she was being really honest, because she had missed you. "I don't know if that's such a good idea." You couldn't just outright say to her that you currently hated her son, right? "I don't know if I wanna see him— Or if he even wants to see me." Denise huffed, but showed herself to be understanding. "Believe me, Jude wants to see you. He doesn't say it directly, but I can tell. A mother can always tell. He's been upset lately because of your new.. who is he?" You froze. "What? You mean Joseph? Oh, he's not my boyfriend if that's what you're asking." Later Denise told you that Jude had no right to be mad at you or Joseph, because of everything he had done with Amy and such. You were grateful that she understood that completely right. Thinking about Jude so often wasn't something you had planned, but emotions kept bubbling up. You missed him. Terribly and you didn't want to admit it. "You know what? Yes, fine, I'll be there."

"Ohhhh my god, why did I agree to this? What is wrong with me?" You were talking to yourself while you packed a small suitcase for the few days you'd be staying in Madrid. Maybe you thought this was an opportunity to patch things up.. but things needed a lot of patching. Were you ready to forgive him yet? No. No, most definitely not.

Alicia also told you it was a bad idea, but you did want to see Denise again, so whatever. If not for her son, then for her. The whole flight over you painted out different scenarios on how this thing would go. Would Jude be happy to see you? Glad even? Or brush it off and still be mad at whatever he thought he had a right to be mad at? How were you supposed to act? Congratulate him if he won? Comfort him if he lost? Celebrate if he scored a goal? Talk to him at all or just be there?

Denise had offered you to stay at their place, but you had politely declined. Not even the devil could make you go back there after the wound was still so fresh. Or maybe you're just exaggerating a lot. You couldn't really tell if you were too paranoid or if you should actually be feeling like this. At least some people were on your side.

"Look, you don't have to worry, you can go." Joseph said in his deep voice, turning the steering wheel left in the direction google maps was telling him to. "Yeah, I just. Man, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I really like you and.. I wanna keep seeing you." He could tell your indecisiveness in your voice. Joseph was, of course, also a huge fan of Jude, if he was being honest. He didn't start going out with you just because you were associated with him, but he didn't mind hearing all the drama first hand. Ultimately, he understood he took on some kind of 'rebound' character, even though he also understood that Jude and you had never been in a relationship. "I like you too," Your date laughed, "But I think, like personally, you should go. Carrying all that weight of unresolved feelings and stuff won't be good for you." He was very mature and you definitely needed someone like that right now. You can't believe you were on your way to a very nice restaurant — a date — and you were still talking about Jude. "I'm sorry that I'm bothering you with all of this." You said after a few minutes of silence. "You're not bothering. I think it's nice that you trust me enough to tell me all of this."

On the other side, Jude, the man himself, was slightly mad at his mom that she even thought about inviting you. And he was mad that you accepted. Truthfully, he wished for nothing more than to see you again, since his feelings for you grew over the months. He kept cursing himself for realizing all of that now and not the years before. At the start of the season, he missed you being there for his first game. He missed seeing you in the crowd, he missed seeing you with his mother, he missed seeing you happy and celebrating when Real won. He missed seeing your absolutely beautiful face. He missed your hugs, your warmth, the smell of your favorite perfume. He missed your voice and talking to you the most.

He realized he wasn't playing his best, regardless of giving his everything on the pitch. It was emotional distress and he brushed it off to his friends and team mates as 'having too much stress'. Jude still woke up everyday excited to play football, but it was still a lot more fun when he knew you were watching — Doesn't matter if that was from home or right there in the stadium.

The feeling he felt deep in his bones had something to do with jealousy, longing and sadness. A mix between every negative thing in his life and he couldn't seem to get rid of it. Jude thought that maybe, if you were there after the El Clasico, it would resolve itself. All he needed is you and for you to forgive him. He also knew that he had to prove himself for it to work.

He hated that he had to prove himself against Barcelona and have you watch him. Judge him. Hate him. At least Jude thought you hated him — Why you accepted to come to his game was a mystery.

While he was busy sorting out his thoughts during the last hour before the game, you've been picked up by Denise, per her request. She gave you a little side hug in the car: "Aww, good to see you, sweetheart!" She exclaimed full with excitement. You actually were excited as well, to see her and be able to watch the game. It's not like you always only attended because of Jude. No, you've become good friends, or at least acquaintances, with most players and slash or their partners. "Good to see you, too. It's been a while, I've missed you."

You gapped about everything in your life, mostly about school and your family. Honestly, you haven't really talked to them in a hot minute since you immediately moved out when you graduated. Mark and Denise were a big help, because your parents wouldn't step up. Sometimes they'd try to call you and most of the times you wouldn't pick up. They had ignored you most of your life, what makes this specific day so special that they'd call? You didn't owe them anything. But, during these times, you wished you had a mom you could actually call and talk about it.

"Look. Jude's been.. down lately. And I know what he did and all that jazz. I just want you to know I'm on your side." Denise whispered to you while you took your seat once you were in the breathtaking stadium the Santiago Bernabéu is. On the big screen you, suprisingly, sae your face. You, who looked up and smiled slightly when noticing the camera on you. You kind of forgot this feeling, but you didn't really miss it.

"I appreciate that." You whispered back to Jude's mom, who started to laugh next to you. "I know what an idiot he can be. Oh, you have no idea how hard his early teenage years were with him."

"I do. I was there." Denise chuckled and nodded. She'd always call you soulmates, two people who couldn't be torn apart. You knew Jude better than anyone, since he'd always run to you with his problems rather than his mom or his dad. Later, Denise would bribe you with sweets or your favorite snack to go tattle on him to her. Of course, you'd never tell her Jude's big secrets or one's that could literally get him grounded for the next ten years, but it was entertaining to watch him get in trouble for small things like a failed test or for missing curfew.

"Different jersey?" You turned your head over your shoulder to check the back, as if you didn't know what kind of jersey you wore. It was blank, didn't have a name on it. "Sorry," You sighed when thinking back at the hassle that was picking out the right one, "didn't think.. I just thought this one was more appropriate."

You knew if fans photgraphed you with this one on, rumors would arise in literal seconds.

"Oh my god! She isn't wearing Jude's jersey!"

"Look, it doesn't say 'Bellingham' on it.."

"They really had a fight!"

Trying to clear your thoughts was hard here, under the eyes of everyone, so you excused yourself to the bathroom for a minute.

...

Well, this really didn't seem like the greatest season for Real Madrid. The game started off okay, with many offside goals and groaning from your side of the stadium. You tried your best not to have your eyes glued to Jude, but rather watch Vini, Kylian, Fede... anyone!

You'd tune out all the cheering and clapping once Barca had scored their third goal of the game. Jude didn't play his best, absolutely not. You wondered why that was, why this specific game? He probably knew you were coming, maybe he was under pressure because of you. Maybe he was scared to mess up in front of you. Maybe—

Wait.

This isn't about you. Is it?

You tried avoiding sounding so selfish and narcissistic in your own head, even though you didn't have to prove it to anyone. No one was there to read your thoughts, why were you so self critical? It probably was because of you. No. Or.. maybe? You definitely wished you were messing with his head right now, as somw kind of revenge. You didn't like losing though... he could've done more!

During Half Time a little before, you had spoken to Joseph over the phone:

"Dude, this is going terribly for you guys." The man quipped on the other end of the line, apparently not all that mad about it. "Ugh, tell me about it." Joseph had told you he wasn't the biggest fan of Real and you accepted that, but these kind of talks were getting really annoying. "I'm hiding in the bathroom. Like.. I don't even want to continue. He probably doesn't even want to talk to me after if they keep going like this." Joseph audibly laughed, not trying to hide his amusement. "Noooo.. come on. You have to try! Even if things don't work out.. I'm right here, baby." Hearing a term of endearment out if anyone's mouth but Jude's was cringe. "Haha.. yeah. I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." After you hung up, you stormed out of the bathroom stall, coming to a straight halt when seeing a woman at the sink fixing her makeup. Oh no, she heard all of that? How embarrassing.

To say your mood was ruined is an understatement. This sucks, the game, the opposing team, Jude Bellingham who's still not giving his all... You slumped back in your seat, hearing Denise sigh. Yeah, this was going to be a looooong evening.

...

There were no smiles, no laughing, no nothing. Losing 4-0 against your biggest rivals was also a thing of its own. You were standing at the end of the tunnel with Denise and basically everyone else who was here to see one of the players. You heart was racing, your palms were sweaty — You had sworn to yourself that you wouldn't get so worked up about this but you still did.

When Jude's eyes met you, it was like everything around him froze. He was happy to see you, happy to have you in his arms just a second and—

His last name wasn't on the back of your shirt. So it's true? The guy everyone's been seeing you with is your boyfriend? To be fair, Jude thought, he brought it upon himself. When you finally did lock eyes, you couldn't look away. He looked so sad and disappointed, in the loss of course. The tiny twinkle in his eyes told you that he was actually glad to see you.

It's like you two were connected even in a time like this. Just like you, he couldn't look away. Just like you, he wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt. Just like you, his heart was pounding. Jude was confused on what to do and just greeted his mom first, while you stood next to them, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

You had awkward eye contact with some other people around you, who apparently knew what was going on and just gave you a look of pity. Wow, why is everyone here so invested in your private life? It's not even that exciting, everyone has drama once in a whi—

"Hey," Jude greeted you rather breathlessly and stared down at you. "Hey." You couldn't do it. You couldn't look his way. That was quickly resolved anyway when he took the liberty and hugged you. Jude wrapped his arms around your torso, tightly, like you'd disappear if he let go. Because of muscle memory, you rested your head against his chest, not knowing how to reciprocate this act of affection. "I'm.. I'm," He whispered, "I'm glad you're here."

It sounded like he really needed you. Out of courtesy, and not because you wanted to, you hugged him back. After it lastet a moment to long, you tried to pry yourself from his grip, to which Jude immediately let go. Shit, he obviously overstepped a line.

Jude's eyes lingered on you, on your clothes, your hair, your slightly trembling hands. It was like the world around you two didn't exist anymore, but rather only this moment you two shared. You couldn't wait to get away from here. "Okay, let's drive you back, honey." Denise said after a few moments of pure silence.

...

The car ride back to your hotel was excruciatingly long. You kept biting your nails while Jude was busy, or at least pretending to be busy, with his phone. You saw him swipe around the weather app multiple times. Denise didn't even try to make small talk, mostly because she couldn't even really talk about the match without annoying her son with the outcome.

"We're here," She eventually said, and you thanked god for that. "It was really great seeing you again, Denise!" The woman turned around to see your face one last time and lightly pinch your cheek, before turning to Jude and trying silently urge him to say something.

"I'll take you to your room—"

"Oh! Oh no, that's really not necessary, Jude, I can—"

"Come on." The footballer stepped out of the car.

Denise mouthed a quick and honest "I'm so sorry" after you sighed. Why would he want to prolong this absolutely awkward meeting again. Oh god, if he wants to 'talk it out' you're done with him.

Silently, you followed the young man through the lobby and past the reception, where he pressed the button for the elevator. It's glass doors mirrored the two of you and how you were standing nect to each other quite uncomfortably. Jude had his hands stowed away in his pockets and you were clutching your bag to you as if he'd snatch it any minute. Thankfully, it was really late and there weren't any other guests going in or out of the hotel. The stupid hotel lobby music was the only thing that filled the silence between you two and it was starting to get on your nerves.

Finally, the elevator arrived with a little 'Ding!'. "Ladies first." Jude muttered and let you go in before him. You didn't say thank you.

"So," Oh no, what an uncomfortable start already. "You and.. that guy, huh?" Jude asked while the elevator was going up. "What guy?" You asked back, just as dryly. "You know who I mean." This made you think back to the call you had with Joseph during the game and it made you cringe all over again. "Uh.. no. No, nothing's going on between me and.. that guy."

Jude sniffled. He turned his head to you and mustered you for a good minute, before the elevator doors opened and he let you step outside first. "Are you sure?" Were you? That was a good question. But being in Jude's vicinity made you sure again. "Yes I'm sure."

"You're not.. That's.. The jersey's blank."

"Yes, I know."

"I thought, maybe it was because you're with that guy now."

"No. I just didn't feel like it. You understand, right?"

After a quick stroll through the hallway, you came to a halt at your room's door. Jude sighed, since there were obviously still things he wanted to talk about.

"Why did you come? I thought you.. you wouldn't want to see me for a while?"

"I don't know myself, okay? Jesus, I don't know anything right now! I wish people would just leave me alone with all of this bullshit, okay? It has consumed my whole life for the last weeks. I just need some peace and quiet."

"Was the hug too much?"

You paused, leaning your hand on the door handle. "No, it wasn't." In reality, you had wished Jude would've just swept you up your feet, hugged you, said a proper sorry and kissed you. A kiss would make you fold, that's for sure. You both were so sickly in love and it wss obvious.

"I really want to fix this."

"Oh yeah? And you're doing that by how? By ignoring me? By not texting or calling me?"

"You didn't call either."

"You know damn well why I didn't reach out first, Jude! You fucking hurt my feelings! You made me cry! You said you'd never..."

Jude held his breath at your words, suddenly feeling like an alien standing in front of you. "I'm sorry. I'm a coward. Please let me fix this." He begged one more time and just watched you dig around your bag for the card key to your room.

"I think you should go, Jude Bellingham."

"I don't want to go! Please just, talk to me! Communicate! We can make this work, I'll be better. I promise."

"I'm really sorry for your 4-0 loss today."

Before you were able to completely go through the door, Jude grabbed you by your arm and slightly dragged you back to make you look at him.

"I'm being serious. Because I have serious feelings for you."

"I was serious, too."

"I'll prove myself. I promise."

You removed your arm from his grip, glaring at him through your eyelashes. "You better not fucking break it."

And you were gone. In your room. And he was left all alone again in front of it.

[saturneras]

Private Eyes V

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Your brother is taking your parents down to Florida to see your grandparents for the weekend and you've got the house all to yourself. Casey hasn't explicitly said that you could use the love of his life aka the vintage car he has been working on for the past months, but a little spin in a convertible on this sunny Saturday afternoon wouldn't hurt, right? And maybe it will take your mind off the way a certain chief of police has been occupying your thoughts recently. Sometimes a girl just needs a crisp Diet Coke, the "My Life is a Movie"-Playlist on Spotify queued up and nothing ahead but some wide open spaces.

Note: Siri play "Cowboy Take Me Away" by The Chicks.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4

There is something so exhilarating about doing something you definitely should not be doing. It's this feeling as if pop rocks are going off inside your chest. It is exactly what you feel when the garage door slowly opens to reveal Casey's shiny metallic blue vintage Mercedes convertible. She's a beauty. He's been working on it for months and has dropped the idea to take her for a spin when he gets the chance last week. If he didn't want anyone to drive it, he maybe shouldn't have parked it in your parents' garage. And since you know where he keeps the key you are just doing him a favour. It is a public service basically. You need a long drive through nowhere and his baby needs a chance to blow off some steam. A win win situation.

You slip into the driver's seat and turn the key. The car starts immediately. God bless. And also bless Casey for being as much of a music freak as you are and putting in a bluetooth connector so you can connect your phone to the radio. You press play on your playlist and pull out of the garage. In ten minutes you're on a country road heading out of town. You drive until you can't see houses anymore, just fields and the occasional farm on the distant horizon. The Texas sun is beating down on the concrete, heat simmering in the air. The windows are down and the breeze is lifting up your hair, cooling the back of your neck. You take a sip of your Diet Coke when the opening notes of "Guilty As Sin" start playing and you lean back, loudly singing along.

There is a flash of something in your head. More like someone. The sensation of feeling skin on your skin, having his body pressed against yours. You shake your head. No, no, no. This is exactly the reason why you took this damn drive - to take your mind off of ...things. The image of his figure hovering above you, his curls falling into his forehead, his eyebrows drawn, has been haunting you for days. The way his lips parted, when you slowly opened your legs is imprinted on your fucking brain. How on earth are you ever going to get rid of that image? It definitely is not good that you're fantasising about your boss and even worse that it's Joel freaking Miller. Obviously that can never happen for so many reasons but mostly because your brother is actually gonna kill him first and then you, without missing a beat. Maybe also Tommy, if he is really on a roll.

Right as Taylor Swift is singing about writing things on inner thighs, something goes wrong. For whatever reason, the gas pedal does not seem to be responding. You put your foot on it a couple of times but nothing is happening, the car is not accelerating. Stunned, you try to put your foot down, but nothing seems to happen. You're really starting to freak out, when you realise that the break also seems to be fucked. At least there is nobody anywhere on this goddamn road you could have hit, so you just slowly let the car come to a stop in the middle of nowhere. You exhale heavily. The tank is full, so at least you weren't a complete idiot. Maybe Casey did not finish fixing it up like he said he did?

"Fucking hell," you groan and slap the steering wheel. Just your luck.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You obviously can't call your brother or your parents because not only will you get the lecture of a lifetime, but they'll also freak out that you're stranded in the middle of a country road with nothing to keep you company but an almost warm can of coke and some pretzels you brought in case of an emergency. Apparently, what you thought might be an emergency is vastly different to what is actually possible. You could call triple-A but on a Saturday at this time of day they'll probably be here by nightfall. How the fuck are you going to get out of here? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

You open the car door and step out, feeling the heat of the day immediately engulf you. You definitely should have brought water. Christ. What were you thinking being all free and a little reckless, huh? Walking a couple of steps down the street you think maybe you could just wait for someone to pass by and help a girl out. That's when it dawns on you that Casey is not the only one you know who knows his way around a vintage car. You hurry back to the car and grab your phone, tapping Tommy's number and calling him.

He doesn't answer. Why should he? He is probably busy on a Saturday afternoon. You try again though nothing but the soothing sound of the dial tone is whispering in your ear. When you press his contact one more time, he finally picks up.

"Hello?"

"Oh my God, Tommy, hi," you say, relieved. "I am so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if by any chance you're free right now? I kinda did something stupid and I need your help."

"Huh?" He says, sounding like he's outside or somewhere loud.

"I borrowed Casey's Mercedes and took a drive up west and now the car is not working and I'm sort of stranded on this road and I can-"

"Who is this?" he says and you frown, saying your name.

"Casey's sister?" You say, hesitantly.

There is just silence at the end of the other line for a moment and then you hear a commotion, sounding like someone getting up.

"Where are you?" You're trying to put the phone closer to your ear, to hear him better.

"I kinda have no idea to be honest, but I can send you my location maybe? I think I passed that one dairy farm with the red sign on my way," you say quickly. "I'm so sorry Tommy, I really appreciate your help."

A sigh resounds from the other end. "This ain't Tommy."

Your eyes widen. "What?"

You take a look at the screen and see Tommy Miller's name and number on the display. Confused, you put the phone back to your ear.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"This is Joel Miller," he says and after a second or two he adds, "The Chief."

Fuck.

"I know who you are, Miller," you say, hearing him moving on the other end. "What are you doing on Tommy's phone?"

„He left it on the table,“ he replies.

You run a hand through your hair and frown. „And you just answer?"

"You called three times," he says.

"Have you ever heard of a right to privacy?"

There is a groan on the other end. „You want me to come get you or keep lecturing me about shit?“

You hear a car door slam.

„Okay,“ you say. "Why did you ask who I was?"

"Apparently Tommy has named you Little C in his phone," Joel says. "How am I supposed to know that's you."

"Fine," you say, „I can send you my lo-

„I‘ll find you,“ he says and the call ends with a click.

„Alright, Chief,“ you mumble and put the phone back in your pocket.

About a long boring hour spent kicking rocks on the side of the road later, you can see a car emerging on the horizon, speeding toward you. The heat makes it flicker in the distance and you squint your eyes to sharpen the picture. The familiar outlines of a his truck take final form and before you know it he slides the car on the gravel and brings it to a sudden stop in front of you.

Joel jumps out of the car and stalks toward you. He’s wearing worn out jeans, boots and a familiar flannel over a crips white tshirt.

"What were you thinking?" He shouts, stepping up in front of you.

"Hello to you too," you reply.

"Why did you take the car?"

"I was just trying to go for a drive," you say.

"Maybe you should've taken a car that actually works and not this thing," he snaps harshly.

He comes to a halt in front of you, breathing heavily. His hair is toussled as if he had just spent the last hour running his hands through it vigorously. His dark eyes shift slowly from yours down to your torso and further toward your feet. Once he has clocked the size of your shorts and the quite long stretch of bare legs, his eyes widen for a second.

"Casey said that he was going to take it out soon," you explain.

Joel snaps his eyes back to yours. "Your brother has been saying that since last summer."

"Maybe he should have told me that," you say.

"Maybe you should have asked him before taking his car," Joel says sternly. "Do you even know where you are?"

You shrug. "I can just check on my phone."

"And what happens if your phone shuts off?"

"I'll just walk somewhere," you say, crossing your arms.

"There isn't a ranch for thirty minutes each way," he says. "Drive, not walk."

"Well," you say, "I've always been fond of walking."

"It's almost a 100 and you probably don't have any water with your, do you?" Joel says.

"I have a Diet Coke," you say.

"Christ, this is how people die!" He shouts.

"Okay, I feel like you're blowing this way out of proportion," you say.

"Did you even tell anyone that you were going out?"

You shake your head. "It's not that serious."

"Someone could have driven by and just decided to kidnap or assault you and no one would even know!"

"Jesus, Miller," you say, "I'm not some damsel in distress, who can't protect herself."

"I've seen some fucked up shit in my time, honey. You don't stand a chance against these psycho."

"Okay," you defensively raise your hands. "I need you to snap out of your paranoid chief/papa bear mentality and just take me home, okay?"

Joel frowns. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You can be a bit overprotective sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I am the chief of police, it is my jo-"

"It's your job, I know, I know," you finish his sentence.

Joel just stares at you blank. "You actually think that I'm some file pushing desk guarding idiot, don't you?"

Now it's his time to cross his arms and you take a step backward.

"I'm just saying that maybe you've spent a lot of time in a job that alters your impression of certain probabilities."

Joel nods, "You sure as hell have made up your mind."

You sigh. "Can you just take me home now, please?"

He shakes his head. "Can't."

"What?" You say. "Why?"

Joel takes his phone out of his back pocket and checks it. "We need to wait for Earl."

"Who the fuck is Earl?" You say and lean back against the trunk of the Mercedes.

"He's the guy that's gonna tow your brother's car and bring it over to my house."

"Why would he bring it to your house?"

He checks the phone again and looks back up at you. "I don't have the tools with me to start it back up."

"Why don't you just bring it back to my parents' house?"

Joel chuckles. "Because your brother doesn't have any tools, he always borrows Tommy's."

You roll your eyes. "Of course, he does."

That's when another truck arrives on the end of the street, slowly driving toward you and Joel, standing on the side. You both wait in silence and you can't help but steal a glance at him standing there, his side profile facing you. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up and you can see tiny beads of sweat on the back of his neck, running into his shirt. It looks like he's been outside today, his face a little more tanned than usual.

The tow truck comes to a halt in front of the Mercedes and after a couple of seconds a man, maybe in his seventies, gets out of it. "It's hotter than a witch's tit out here! This better be worth at least two days of yard work, boy."

Joel actually laughs and moves toward the guy. "Make it three, sir."

You don't think you've ever seen him this at ease with anyone else but Tommy. His smile lightens up his whole features, smoothing out the ever-present frown entirely.

They shake hands and Earl grins, taking a UT cap off his head. "This must be important then."

The old man looks over at you and flashes another smile, his grey moustache stretching with his grin. "And who do we have here? The trouble maker I assume."

You walk over to them and take Earl's outstretched hand, shaking it heartily. "At least the Chief seems to think so."

"Is that so?" Earl says and turns back to Joel, who rests his hands on his hips.

"Just let her work for you and you'll agree in no time, I'm sure," Joel says annoyed.

Earl laughs, his grey beard shaking. "She sure as hell can get you riled up, Miller."

Joel scoffs. "I ain't riled up, Earl."

"Sure, sure," Earl says and motions for Joel to drop it. "Let's get to work, son. The misses is going to be in outrage if I don't make it back in time for dinner with the kids."

Earl easily positions the truck in front of the Mercedes and they hook it up to pull it onto the back of the truck. Once everything is secured, the two men walk back over toward you.

"So, you wanna take a ride in a tow truck, girlie?" Earl grins.

You laugh and Joel says: "She'll be riding back with me, Earl."

"Maybe she wants to ride in the truck, Miller," Earl counters.

"Yeah, I want to ride in the truck," you say and expectantly look up at him.

Joel shakes his head in one swift motion. "It's not about what you want. Now get in the car."

"Don't tell me what to do. We're not at work. I don't have to listen to you at all," you snap.

Joel narrows his eyes. "I ain't doing that with you right now, Sweetheart."

"I'm glad we agree on that," you say.

"Imma say this one time only," Joel says, his southern drawl coming through, showing his temper simmering. "Get in the car."

"You never let me have any fun," you say and turn to Earl. "He never does."

"And you never know when to listen," Joel rumbles.

Earl looks between the both of you back and forth a couple of times. "Yeah, very calm, Miller. Not riled at all."

Joel scoffs and starts walking toward his car. "I'll see you at the house, Earl."

Earl points at you and shouts: "I like her, Joel. You should keep her around."

Joel just slams the car door shut and starts the engine. You sigh and offer a smile to Earl. "Sorry, 'bout that. He can't stand giving up control."

"Sure can," Earl agrees and gives a little wave. "Just needs a little longer to trust. Haven't seen him loose his cool this quickly in... ever really. I sure like the way you work, girlie." Earl laughs and walks over to his car, hopping up onto the truck.

You turn around and walk up to Joel's running car. From the windshield he still looks pissed. Before you can grab the door, he leans over and pushes it open for you.

"Thanks," you say and get in the truck.

Joel makes a turn and starts driving back the way you came.

"Listen," you start, "thank you for coming to get me. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."

Joel glances over at you, one strand of his dark hair dancing on his forehead.

"Nothing important," he says, "and don't mention it."

You frown. "'Don't mention it' as in no worries or as in don't tell anyone?"

"Both," he grunts and turns his eyes back to the road.

You both continue to ride in deafening silence until he pulls up in front of his home. The front yard is beautiful as ever and the summer flowers are in full bloom. Earl has already unloaded the Mercedes in the front. Joel kills the engine and quickly gets out. He presses something on his phone and the garage door slowly slides open. You step out of the car and walk up to the front, leaning back against it. Watching them.

Without another word, Joel opens the door of the Mercedes and with Earl's help on the back, pushes it down the driveway into the garage. Seeing him like this, heavily breathing, does absolutely nothing to you. It's not like you're thinking about the way it sounds when you close your eyes for a split second at all. Earl however looks like he isn't even pushing, but more there for moral support. Once the car is standing in the garage, Joel exhales heavily and swears.

"Hey! Let's mind our manners here, son," Earl warns. "A lady is present."

Joel steals a glance at you. "Ain't so sure 'bout that."

"You trying to get an old man to smack your head, boy?" Earl says and Joel laughs heartily.

"Not planning on it," he replies and goes over to pat Earl on the back. "Thank you for the rescue, sir. I'll see you whenever you want to cash in."

Earl nods and glances over at you. "Sure as hell worth more than yard work, huh?"

Joel's face doesn't give any reaction and Earl turns back to him. "You should bring her to Sunday lunch some time soon."

"She works for me, Earl," Joel says sternly.

Earl shrugs. "Not on Sundays, does she?"

Joel response is a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. Earl chuckles and gives you a wave before he steps back into his tow truck. "See you, honey."

"Bye, Earl," you shout back and walk up toward the open garage.

You both watch Earl drive off in silence.

"You can wait inside, where it's cool," Joel suggests, any trace of ease or the last bit of a smile vanished from his face. You exhale heavily and you shake your head.

"I can help you," you say.

"If I need someone to not do what I tell them to, I'll come and get you."

"Wow," you say and step into the garage, hopping on the empty counter, "very original."

Joel narrows his eyes and lets them slowly run down your legs.

"I can just take you home. Your parents are probably worried," Joel says, still carefully following your feet dangling in the air.

"They're in Florida visiting my grandparents," you say. "With Casey."

"Ah," Joel says, stepping into the garage. "That's why you didn't call Casey."

"One of the reasons, yes," you say, "and he sure as well would kill me if he ever found out I took the car."

Joal sighs. "I fucking hate secrets."

"You are 'bout that?" You ask, watching him innocently. "Seems like you're pretty good at keeping them yourself."

He raises his eyebrows.

"Or did you tell Tommy about our run in in the bathroom at the BBQ?"

"That's different," he says.

"How so?"

"That wasn't on purpose."

"Oh, right," you say, "so you lifting me onto the counter or pushing me down on the shooting table weren't on purpose? You sure do like to get yourself into accidents huh, Chief?"

Joel just turns away from you with a grunt and walks to the front of the Mercedes.

Without any warnings, he shrugs off his flannel and throws it to the side on a nearby work bench. The moment he takes off the flannel you realise that maybe you should have gone inside and waited there. That that might have been a better idea, not just for your faith but for your sanity.

Joel's shirt is pressed to his entire torso, clinging to it like sticky honey. He must have been so hot under that flannel that even the thought of pressing your hand on that boiling chest makes you shift in your seat. You can't help but watch the way it stretches over his broad back, tightening over his chest. His bicep flexes as he opens the hood of the car with a grunt and it's so obscene you actually have to look away. With both hands he pulls his hair back and presses the dark curls neatly to the back of his head. The evening sun is drenching the garage in a golden shade. You watch him work on the car, get different tools and swearing from time to time. Every time he runs his sweaty hand through his hair, you have to hold your breath involuntarily. The way the sun lights up his body gives his presence a different aura, almost as if a halo-like shine as formed around him.

After a while you couldn't possible put into any form of time measurement, he suddenly comes up from underneath the hood of the car and slams it shut. "Should be fine now, I’ll try starting it back up tomorrow and bring it over as soon as I can."

You nod and Joel sighs.

"You want something to drink?" He asks.

"Sure," you say, slowly sliding down the countertop, at exactly the moment he is trying to make his way past you. Joel hesitates for a second but then quickly moves out of the way and steps toward the entrance to the house, opening the door.

You follow him into kitchen. He goes right to the fridge and you lean against the counter opposite him.

"What do you want?"

"Water is fine," you say.

Joel opens the fridge door. "I got water, beer and whatever weird energy drink Tommy brought over last night."

"I'll have a beer then," you say and he grabs two bottles, opening them quickly and handing one to you.

You grab the bottle from his hand and almost hiss when his hand touches yours. It's warm from the sun and slightly wet from the condensation on the ice cold bottle.

Joel flinches. "Sorry, I'm a bit sweaty." He rubs his hand on the back of his jeans, furrowing his brows.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I don't mind. It's just a bit cold." You say desperately trying to refrain from reaching out again. You would die if he realized just how much you would like to know what it would feel like to have that hand wrapped around you.

He closes the fridge and leans back against it, watching you intently. You hold his gaze, both taking swigs from your beers.

"Listen," he starts and then turns, opening a drawer next to him. He sets down his bottle, takes out a block of post-it notes and a pen, quickly writing something down. Then he hands it over to you.

A phone number shows on it in bold writing.

"This is for next time you get yourself into trouble," he says. "So you don't have to terrorise Tommy."

You take the note from him and hold it between your fingers. Then you take out your phone, dial the number and press the call button until you hear Joel‘s phone vibrating in his pocket.

„I feel like the only times I get myself into trouble you're usually already there."

"I ain't talking 'bout that kind of trouble, kid," Joel says huskily. You don't realise it, but as if on it's own accord, your body moves away from the counter and veers ever so slightly toward him.

"Don't call me kid," you say.

"What would you rather I call you, huh?" Joel asks, taking his beer bottle back from the counter.

"Don't know," you tilt your head. "Should it also depend on whether I'm in between your legs or does that only apply to me addressing you?"

"Why do you have to bring that up?" He asks, the grip on his bottle tightening.

"Maybe I'm just trying to get you all riled up as Earl puts it."

"I ain't between them now am I, Darlin'?" Joel drawls.

"Is that a factual statement or a suggestion?" You raise your eyebrows in question.

"You are trying to make things very hard for me, aren't you?" Joel sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

"How hard is kinda your thing I guess, don't you agree?"

He scoffs, but can't hide the way the corner of his mouth slightly twitches.

"You ever think about it"? You ask.

When he shakes his head and pushes himself off the counter, the beer bottle in his hand grazes your arm. You raise your head up to him, letting his warm breath hit your cheek.

"No," he says and keeps his eyes locked on your lips.

You grin. "You're a bad liar."

"And you're out of your depths, Sweetheart.“

"Maybe I like being there," you say, "maybe it's nice to not be able to feel the ground."

Another inch disappears between you two, when he places his bottle on the counter behind you.

"Maybe I'm just waiting on you to rescue me," you say, waiting for him to say something.

But Joel just stares at you with narrowed eyes as if he is trying to figure something out. Something that he can't grab a hold of. Something that has been bothering him for weeks. And maybe it is time to finally dare open up the box, to release the bird from its cage and let it flap its strong wings with nothing but the vast open sky above.

"Are you going to come out and rescue me, Mr. Miller?" You whisper.

You're close enough to trace his smell oozing from him and could count the hairs of his beard one by one, if you had the time. Nothing happens, it is just the sound of your breathing in sync, resounding in the silent kitchen.

His hand rises to your hips and he draws his eyebrows further together as if he was pushing against an imaginary barrier in his mind. You cannot help but inhale sharply as he carefully lets his right index finger curl around the belt loop on your shorts. You feel the softest tug that pulls you toward him.

"Me dropping everything to come and get you once today isn't enough for you, Darlin'?" Joel says softly, his eyes showing that familiar twinkle.

You can't help but let loose a little grin for him and lift your chin up toward his. "Maybe I just like to see you workin'."

Now it's Joel's time to smile almost unnoticably, before his face morphs back into that exterior of stone. The only thing giving him away is the way the brown in his eyes has turned molten, making you think of strawberries dipped in warm chocolate.

"Is that so, honey?" He says.

"What about you?" You ask.

"What about me?" Joel says.

You lift up your hand without thinking and put one finger directly in the middle of his chest. Joel almost hides his flinch.

"What do you like?"

He exhales a shaky breath.

"Huh?" You say, when he doesn't reply.

"I liked seeing you sitting in my garage," Joel says after a while, his voice husky and calm.

"Why?"

"I like you watching me work," he says even softer.

You smile up at him. "I already knew that," you say, "tell me something I don't know."

Joel huffs and in one swift motion has snuck his hand into the belt loop at the back of your shorts, grabbing the fabric, pulling you flush to him. The feel of his jeans against yours surely will never leave your head until you pass from this earth. Your chest grazes his still damp shirt and you wonder wether this will be one of those vital moments in your life you later think back on.

"I ain't much of a talker, Sweetheart," he says, using the other hand to brush a strand of hair from your cheek.

"Why do I not believe that, Mr. Miller?" You narrow your eyes. "Or is it Chief now already?"

"When you're standing between my legs, you can call me whatever you want, Darlin'," he says and lowers his head in slow motion.

„I thought it wasn’t about what I want,“ you say.

Joel’s mouth is so close that it would only need a little nudge of his hand to erase the distance between the two of you.

„Out there it’s not,“ he says, his lips moving deliciously slow. „In here, it’s only about what you want.“

„Then show me what you like and I’ll tell you what I want, Jo-„

"JOEL!"

Tommy's voice resounds from the opening front door.

Before he has stepped into the kitchen, you've pushed yourself off of Joel's chest and put as much space as possible between the both of you.

"Joel?" Tommy calls again. "What are you doing? I thought you were gonna come back. I had to stop Mary like five times from calling yo-"

Tommy enters the kitchen and comes to a halt as he sees the both of you on opposite ends of the counter. You in front, Joel in the back, the countertop covering him from the waist down.

"Oh hey," Tommy says and smiles. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brother helped me out with some car trouble," you explain. "I tried calling you, but he picked up your phone."

Tommy nods. "Oh yeah, I'm sorry, I was out dancing," he says and does a little shimmy in the doorway. "What happened?"

"Nothing really," you say and wave it off. "The chief came to the rescue."

Joel's eyes flash over to you for a split second and then land back on Tommy.

"Why didn't you come back?" Tommy asks him and Joel shrugs.

"Took longer than I thought," Joel grunts.

Tommy sighs. "You could have called. Mary literally was about to come over here. I think she might have developed a bit of a thing for you. A little much for a first date, but who am I to judge?"

Your head snaps to Tommy. "Date?"

Tommy walks over and laughs, sitting down at the counter. "Oh yeah, I convinced Joel to go out with my friend's sister and I thought it was going well but then he vanished, saving you apparently and didnt come back."

You can't help but grin as you watch Joel's face turn a little red.

"Must have been a good date then?" You ask and Joel rolls his eyes.

"You made me look bad, Joel," Tommy complains and Joel grabs his beer.

"Wasn't for me," Joel says, taking a swig.

"She seemed nice," Tommy says.

"Too agreeable," Joel counters and shoots you a look.

"Didn't know the chief was dating," you say and take a sip of your beer as well.

"Didn't know you'd be interested in knowing," Joel says and Tommy frowns, looking back and forth between you two.

"Alright," Tommy says, "I'll take you home, little C, before you both kill each other."

"Thanks, Tommy," you say and put the bottle on the counter.

"See ya, Chief," you call and leave Joel standing in his kitchen, still leaning against the fridge, watching you like a hawk. The moment you’re in Tommy’s car, your phone resounds with the familiar ding of an incoming message. You pull it out of your pocket and check, a smile spreading on your lips.

Message from Chief: Stay out of trouble. Call if you can’t.

[albertasunrise]

Hope - Hopelessly in Love

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (Sorry this has taken a while. Trying to do as much writing as I can, when I can, but ya know how it is 🤷🏼‍♀️😅… hope this was worth the wait 😘 I haven't managed to proofread this so any mistakes are my own... Enjoy 🫶🏼)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Six months had passed since the night that you and Joel confessed your feelings for each other. The two of you had decided to keep your relationship a secret from the kids for the time being. Not wanting to confuse things if it wasn't going to work out.

But it was becoming clear to both of you that this relationship wasn't going to break any time soon. You fit together as a couple so seamlessly that the two of you had confessed that you wish you'd just confessed your feelings sooner.

But… You could never regret marrying Alec.

You had loved him so fiercely and you shared two children with him. Noah had always felt like yours despite not being related to him in blood and two years after the accident, and Alec's health started to decline, he has asked if you would consider adopting Noah.

You had accepted without question.

A year later, Noah was legally your son.

His mother had given up her parental rights without argument, which had both saddened and relieved you. You could never understand how someone could just walk out on their child the way she had but you also felt like her loss was your gain. You loved Noah with every fibre of your being.

You had started to discuss with Joel when you should tell the kids about your relationship. You were sure they had their suspicions. You spent most evenings at each other's houses, with the kids of course, but it was pretty obvious that getting them together was just an excuse for you two to spend time together.

So it was no surprise when Ali sprang the question of your relationship on you both that Sunday at your bi-weekly BBQ.

"Are you two together?" She asked out of the blue, poking her head up over her book and spying the two of you talking quietly to one another with sweet smiles plastered over your faces.

"What makes you think that?" Joel asked and the girl shrugged.

"Just being all gross together."

"Oh, thanks." You huffed and Joel sniggered at your reply.

"Well?" She asked again "Are you?"

"Would you care if we were?" You asked and Ali shook her head.

"Nah… Makes sense." She replied casually "But I dunno about Noah and Sarah… They might find it weird… with them being together and all."

This is the reason the two of you hadn't said anything.

Despite Noah having told you that he wouldn't care… you were still nervous. Neither of you minded if the young couple stayed together. They weren't related after all but you knew people might talk, and that's why, 6 months on, you hadn't gone public.

"I won't tell them if you are." Ali continued "It's up to you guys to do that but don't leave it too long."

For a 9-year-old, she was wise beyond her years. You felt like it was partly to do with the fact she had been forced to help you take care of her father towards the end. You'd had to take on more hours in order to ensure you could cover the bills after he'd been medically retired and that had meant Ali and Noah had taken on a little of his care. Something you'd never asked of them but they had done without complaint.

"Yes, we are together." You stated simply, you and Joel sharing a sweet smile before you finished with "We will tell Sarah and Noah so yes, we would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself for now."

"We'll tell them soon." Joel finished and Ali shrugged again before returning to her book.

.

You were finishing up the dishes when Joel came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist as he placed sensual kisses along your shoulder and up your neck.

"Joel, the kids…"

"Are all passed out on mattresses downstairs in the basement." He stated, spinning you in his arms so that he could kiss you.

You hummed against his lips, savouring the feel of them against your own and he growled slightly as his hands grabbed your ass and lifted you onto the counter.

"But what if they-"

"Pretty sure they're in a meat coma." He chuckled as he nibbled your chin "Sarah begged me for a sleep which I said was fine as long as Ali slept down there with them and they slept separately."

"What did she say to that?"

"Her exact words were… 'Why would I wanna share a sleeping bag with a boy… ewwww' so I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"Does that mean that I get to sleep over too?" You ask seductively and he grins as he kisses you hard which is all the answer you need.

After peeking down the stairs again and assuring yourselves the kids were okay, you threw caution to the wind and snuck upstairs together. In almost no time at all, you were stripped down to just your underwear and trying not to moan too loudly as Joel lavished your breasts with attention.

You wish you had the time to enjoy his ministrations but you were conscious that the kids could wake up at any moment so after pushing Joel down onto the bed, you rid yourself of your underwear and he did the same. You took a moment to admire him, laying there looking delicious with his length painfully hard and practically screaming for you. You climbed onto his bed and straddled his hips, throwing your head back in a silent scream as you sank down onto his thick length. No matter how many times the two of you did this, you never seemed to get over how perfectly he filled you.

Then, after taking a moment to adjust, you were moving together in perfect harmony. Swallowing each other's pleasured moans with languid kisses as he stroked that spot inside of you that made your toes curl. His hands urged you to move faster when your moans became louder as you neared your peak.

"Cum for me baby." He mumbled against your lips and your movements became more frantic as you started to cum, squeezing him hard as you crested.

Pulling him along with you.

You lay there limply for a moment as you soaked in the moment… loving how this was your life now. You'd never thought you'd get this. You had always felt like he was the forbidden fruit… being that he was your dead best friend's husband.

"I love you." He uttered against the apple of your cheek and you turned your head to look him in the eye, yours filling with happy tears as you replied "I love you too."

"Reckon I can get away with sleeping in here without the kids noticing?" You asked after sharing a few sweet kisses.

"I think it's worth the risk." Joel replied as he flipped you so you were spread out beneath him "I'm not done with you yet."

…

You and Joel allowed yourself a few weeks longer to plan how you planned to tell Noah and Sarah. You had told Joel about what Noah had said… How they'd work it out. But Joel wasn't so confident Sarah would feel the same. He had only ever had one girlfriend that he had introduced to her and that was Sandy, she hadn't been a fan.

So to say, Joel was nervous that he would be telling her that her boyfriend's mum was his new girlfriend, was an understatement.

"I think she'll surprise you." You said before taking another bite of your sandwich "She's a sensible girl."

"She is and I am sure you're right she hated Sandy so you can understand my concerns." Joel replied as he wiped his hands on his napkin and grabbed his coffee "How you feel if you were in her shoes and you found out that your dad was knocking boots with your boyfriend's mum?"

"You have a point." You conceeded "But she has also said to me once or twice that she wished you could find someone to look after you." You revealed, "She worries that you're lonely."

"Is that what you're going to do for me?" He asked, one of his eyebrows quirking as he gave you a suggestive smirk "You going to take care of me, baby?"

"You know it." You replied, giving him a bright smile before finishing off your sandwich.

After finishing lunch together, you decided to take a walk. Sarah and Noah were at football practice but one of the kids' parents was having a BBQ afterwards and Ali was at a sleepover. So you were both kid-free for a while and decided to bask in the ability to just be together for a few hours.

The heat was beating down on you both and you were glad you had chosen to wear a sundress. The idea of any clothes clinging to you made your skin crawl.

"Anywhere you'd like to go?" Joel asked as he spun you into his arms so he could kiss you sweetly and you swooned as you grinned against his lips.

There's this little pub I know that has live music playing all day on a Saturday in their pub garden." You suggested, "Perhaps we could go for a drink and listen to some music?"

"That sounds perfect." Joel replied, kissing you one more time "Lead the way."

.

You had been to an English pub once as a child, that you could remember. Your mum's parents had lived there and you had gone to stay with them for the summer. They had taken you out for drives in their classic Bentley and one day, had taken you to this quaint little pub near where they lived. This place reminded you of there and it made you smile as you thought about how special that day had been.

"You okay?" Joel asked when he noticed how quiet you had gotten and you simply smiled and nodded.

Leading him to the bar, you ordered a glass of white wine and Joel ordered a beer. Then, following the music outside, you were welcomed by a lovely little garden set up with a mixture of benches and garden furniture set around the space. Taking a seat in one of the comfy garden chairs, you placed your wine down and snuggled back into the large cushion at your back.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while. You sipping at your wine and trying not to grimace at the flavour… Something you failed miserably at.

"Something wrong with your wine?"

"Just not nice." You replied with a shrug "It's fine… I'll still drink it."

"Hmmm… that's weird." Joel hummed and your brows pulled together as you asked "What is?"

"I saw the bottle and it's one of your favourites. The De Abelo one that you keep telling me you served at your wedding."

"Really?"

Joel nodded and you frowned "That is weird… maybe its just a bad batch." You replied with a shrug and Joel nodded in agreement.

A slow song came on a few moments later and your eyes noted how a few couples had gotten up and were now slow dancing. It made your heart sore to see such beautiful outward shows of love and when Joel's hand appeared in your line of vision, you looked at him and swore you fell in love with him more.

"May I have this dance?"

You took his hand without question, the two of you embracing each other as you swayed to the music. The moment was so perfect. You wanted to freeze time so it would never end. But alas, the song started to wind down and people's dancing started to slow. Joel nudged your face with his and you felt dizzy as he kissed you so sweetly. But when he pulled his head back to look at you, you realised it wasn't the kiss that had given you the feeling of dizziness.

Your hearing suddenly became muffled and you didn't hear what Joel said to you as your vision darkened around the edges. You only saw his brows pull together as you felt you legs give you and everything went black.

…

Joel stood by your bed, chewing his thumbnail nervously and you reached out to grab the hand closest to you in the hopes it would calm him.

"I'm fine Joel." You assured him "It was probably just from the heat."

"Baby you fucking collapsed." He stated, giving you the saddest eyes you'd ever seen "Your eyes rolled back into your skull and I thought…"

"Oh, baby." You said softly "I'm sorry I scared you. I've been having some dizzy spells lately but I suffer low with Low Iron. So it's probably a combination of that and the heat… I'll be fine I promise."

Joel nodded but you could tell he wasn't convinced.

He was a natural worrier and it was sweet that he was so concerned about you. You knew it was going to be nothing but Joel wouldn't believe that until the doctor told him. So you both waited for someone to pull back that curtain.

Minutes blended into hours. Nurses came by to make sure you had water and even Joel pulled himself away for a brief time to grab some decent coffee.

You would be lying if your anxiety didn't start to spike, the longer it took for someone to come and see you but finally, after laying in that uncomfortable bed four four hours, you got your answer.

Your name fell from the doctor's lips as he skimmed through the notes on the clipboard in his hands "Sorry for the wait." He said as he looked at you both apologetically "Short-staffed in the lab… Anyway, your results came back fine. Nothing to be concerned about but there was one thing that did crop up."

Your stomach dropped.

"What is it?" Joel asked, his hand tightening around yours "She okay?"

"She's fine… Healthy." The doctor assured you both before he said your name and dropped an utter bombshell on you "I am assuming you weren't aware you're pregnant?"

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[highonakuweeds]

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness? (Part 5)

Sylus x right hand man!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | ao3

Summary: You had a nightmare. Normally, that wouldn't phase you, but this memory was different, leading to your weakness.

The air around her felt sticky and cold. Not like she wasn’t used to it, anyway; it’s been like this for the past…

…How long has it been? Weeks? Months? Years?

Her sense of time mixed itself up the moment she lost her consciousness when she was walking down the streets of Linkon City, going back to the apartment she stole from a lady a long time ago. (Name) stole her credit card, too, but she cut that off a while back as well. 

There were an abundance of people that walked into her cell, but none of them talked to her. The one thing all of them did was grab her right wrist, swollen and limp from the countless amount of surgeries to place something sharp inside of it and monitor it constantly. It was always so close to her blood vessels, and every time she would think about it, it would make her lose consciousness.

This was the… 10th time that had happened? There was no sun from where she was, so she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what time it was. But from how her body strained less than before, she knew that it was shorter this time.

There was water that dripped a couple of feet away from her, mimicking the seconds ticked by. Sometimes, she would find herself counting until she reached how many days there are in a year. 365 seconds… that’s only 6.083 minutes, and that is only around 0.101 hours…

Wait, how’d she know that?

She noticed that she began to understand and know things way too obscure for her to know without any prior education. She could answer the most complicated Math questions she could think of, and she hadn’t even started college. Well, reason being she couldn’t afford it.

Yet even with that, she didn’t know the time.

She opened her eyes with a jolt of her tired body, her wrists encapsulated in something that numbed them. She could still move her fingers, but it was only slight. She groggily glanced up at the hooded figure that opened up her cell’s door; were they going to drag her to the operating room again?

Her body shivered when he spoke, shocked that there was someone else speaking other than her in this cell. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he declared, fingers nimbly working against the chains gripping her ankles that kept her in the cell. She tilted her head in confusion, opening her mouth to speak. “Why?” It was rough. Well, it had been a couple hours (days?) since she last spoke.

Even through the hood, she could feel his eyes on her as he continued to work against the chains, finally snapping them loose. They came down from her ankles with a clank, and she gasped at the feeling of circulation in her feet. “If I can’t save myself from this torture,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “Then I can at least save you.”

He began working on the things around her wrists, grimacing when he saw just how butchered her right one was. “Were you dominant in this hand?” He asked her, and she nodded, laughing weakly. “I don’t think I can write with it anymore after this.” When he was finally able to remove the binding material from her wrists, he softly gripped her forearms to hoist her up, steadying her when she staggered. “Will I be able to recover?”

He pursed his lips before smiling reassuringly. “If you take care of yourself. Now, close your eyes.”

“What?”

“It’s for the better if you don’t know who I am, and I’m going to remove my coat. Now, close your eyes.”

She hesitantly did what he told her to do, and she suddenly felt something drape around her shoulders, a hood covering her eyes. When she opened them, she could barely see her surroundings, and when she threw her head back to remove the hood, it was immediately placed back on her head, the boy—seemingly around 20, around her age—now behind her to conceal his identity. “Look, I know that you’re weak right now, but I want you to run. Run as far as you can without looking back.”

“But what about you—”

“I can’t save myself here.” He emphasized once more, saying it even more slowly. “My future lies here. But you? I know that you have so much potential out there, not cooped up here, ready to be experimented on. Now, go. I’ll distract all of the people in the lab.”

She didn’t question him when he said that, and the moment the both of them bolted out of the door, an alarm broke out. The mysterious guy gently yet urgently pushed her towards a hidden hallway as the guards began to flood the main one, all running in a panic.

There was a door there that looked so much like an exit, and (Name)’s face lit up when he told her that it was actually the exit.

And with that, she ran. You ran as fast as you could with your aching and still numbed feet, stumbling when you hit a small rock, but never falling. 

You won’t fall again after this.

—--

You opened the door to an abandoned building, glancing at the clock that was still somehow working. That probably means that this place was freshly abandoned. Was it 5 am or 5 pm? Either way, the red moon shone through the windows of the shop, confusing you. Were you still even in Linkon City?

You snooped around for any kind of weapon you could find, smiling happily when you found a small pistol. It was a luxury to find such a gun as sleek and high-quality as it, and it felt right in your left hand. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing with my gun?” A deep, rich voice vibrated within you, cutting the silence that you knew all too well. It was an instinct, really, something you’d picked up from roaming around the streets for too long. You stood up, twisting your body to aim the gun at the man. The only thing you saw when you pulled the trigger was his white hair and his red eyes, and a grin that made you want to wipe it off with a bullet.

And so you did.

The bang from your memories woke you up, mixing with the sound of your alarm as cold sweat coated your entire face. Your heart was racing way too much for comfort, and as you glanced at your right wrist, the red glow flickering so quickly that if you stared at it too long, you probably would’ve had a seizure.

You quickly removed it from your sight as you stood up from your bed, going towards your bathroom to look for any bandages that could at least soften the harshness of the flickering of the light. It didn’t take long for you to bandage it properly, the light dimming.

You hadn’t dreamt about that memory in so long; why did you dream about it now?

Because of it, you felt weak. Gripping your sink, you stared at your face and the newfound eye bags under your eyes. With a small grumble, you tied your hair to wash your face and get ready for the day.

The moment you took another step, you staggered, your brain remembering what it was like to be chained. It was how many years ago, and yet it couldn’t seem to let the sensation go. You gritted your teeth at it, forcing yourself to walk towards the kitchen to get some nutrients in your body. With how you woke up, you definitely needed some.

—--

When you entered the kitchen, wafts of the fragrance of bacon entered your nostrils, but instead of making you sigh in pleasure, it only made you grumble in distaste. You had forced yourself to eat the breakfast that the chef made; he took his time to make it, after all.

You asked where your boss was, and—to your expectation—the chef had replied that he didn’t know. Which usually meant one thing: he was probably dealing with some rat that tried to fool him.

And right on time, you heard your phone ping—a sound familiar to you because it’s only reserved for your boss.

With a sigh, you stood up from your spot, nodded at the chef in gratitude and left. You made sure to grab your hood, and as you walked the long hallway to the grand dining room that Sylus had, you fumbled with the strings of the hood; you never fumbled.

=What was going on?

You quietly opened the door to find a man trying to talk to Sylus about business, and him acting incredibly uninterested. You nodded your head at your boss, who then indicated to you to stay by his right side. Of course, you came to his side as quickly as you could, crossing your arms.

“They plan to implant Protocores into human hearts. Then they’ll insert the human consciousness into Wanderers,” the man had explained. Your wrist beeped quietly when it recognized the information—as false as it is—but it heated up quickly, making you stagger. The man hadn’t noticed it, but your boss surely did. He glanced at you with a brow raised in question. “This little project of theirs has a name: The Fountain of Atei—”

You placed a hand in front of you as Sylus spoke, indicating the man to stop talking. “You should know I’m not interested in other people’s businesses.” Your boss turned his head so that he’d be looking at you, and you pursed your lips. You could feel yourself getting a bit lightheaded, so your hand instinctively gripped Sylus’ bicep, nails digging into his skin.

If that action surprised Sylus, you didn’t see, but he knew what the purse of your lips meant. “And you’re lying. You’re not even telling me everything. It’s a shame you threw away your last chance.”

Red wisps of Sylus’ evol wrapped around the man’s neck, pulling him down to his knees. Your boss nodded your head at you, and you leaned down, gripping the man’s chin. You gave him a pitiful smile before removing a small dagger from your hood, opening the man’s mouth, and cutting his tongue off. 

A scream erupted from him, reverberating within the entire dining hall. You gave the now detached tongue in your hand a squeeze before grimacing at the look of it. No matter how many times you’d do this, you would never get used to it. 

Red tendrils wrapped around the tongue before making it disappear with its owner, and you wiped the saliva off your hands onto the ends of your hood. “Disgusting everytime.”

You took your hood off, and the moment more light gleamed within your eyesight, you squeezed your eyes shut, letting out a ragged breath. Fuck, you still haven’t recovered.

Sylus’ brows furrowed when he saw you take that breath. First was when you staggered, then when you gripped his arm, and now this? Just as he was about to ask you what was wrong, someone else opened the door, making you immediately put the hood back on and disappear in the shadows.

Ah, he totally forgot about MC.

When she entered the room, you sighed softly, walking towards the door and leaving. However, before you could even reach the door, you felt yourself palpitate, making you gasp sharply and freeze in your tracks. MC’s attention immediately went to you as a rather concerned look on her face appeared. In all honesty, it even surprised herself. “Nyx, are you okay?”

‘Nyx’? Sylus had to stifle a smirk at the name you had chosen to conceal your identity from your colleague. But the worry that was subtly etched in his features never left

You placed a hand in between you and MC before nodding. And as quickly and quietly as you entered, you left, leaving the two of them in the room.

—--

“Good morning, (Name)! How are you—my God, you look like shit. What happened?” Tara rushed to your side, an arm around your waist to support you. You begrudgingly smiled, grateful that the hunter’s uniform requires you to wear long sleeves, hence covering up your glowing wrist. Nevertheless, you still had the bandages wrapped around it. 

You shook your head as you sat down on your desk, placing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on my palm. “I honestly have no idea. Hey, Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“What would you do if you accidentally fell in love with your boss?”

Your friend blinked at you, eyes blown wide as she attempted to connect the dots. “You like Jenna!? Damn, I didn’t know you swung that way. Wait, no but honestly, I can see it—”

“This,” you took a deep sigh, stifling your laugh. “Is not about me, okay? Just someone I met when I was on a date with Aries.”

Tara’s face scrunched as it took her a while to recognize who Aries was before humming. “...Okay, uhm. Without any context, if I fell in love with my boss, I’d have confessed.”

You furrowed your brows, looking around. “What? That easily? But—but what if he seems to be interested in someone else? Someone he all of a sudden became obsessed with? Your, uhm, colleague, for example. Then again, it was like he was incredibly interested in you for the longest time. And, hey, what if you lose your job? Sure, you may be valuable to your boss, but you can’t risk anything, right?”

Tara sighed, leaning against your desk before speaking. “Well, I would still confess. If I were to constantly see my own boss, I wouldn’t have been able to keep it in for long, anyway. So, might as well just get it off my chest, ya know?” She faced you, a knowing look on her face, as if she knew you were lying about it being a ‘friend’ despite not knowing who this ‘boss’ really was. “So, you go and tell your friend to spill her heart out. And you said that he was interested in her, right?”

You passed air through your lips, wondering if you should even consider Tara’s advice. “Might be interested. Not interested interested.”

Your friend just laughed at that. “I’m calling B.S. But, for the benefit of the doubt, what makes yo—her think that he only might be interested?”

You didn’t catch her small slip-up as you sighed. “Well, before he started getting obsessed with her colleague, he’d put on her heels for her, take her out to fancy restaurants sometimes, give her bouquets of flowers—”

“Pause.” Tara stared at you in surprise, a hand beside her head as if indicating you to stop talking. “He sounds like a husband. Are you sure those two aren’t actually a thing?”

Groaning, you held your head, beginning to feel the energy drain out of you. “No, they aren’t a thing. I… uh, asked her. Multiple times.”

Tara nodded slowly before speaking reluctantly. “Well, he seems very interested in her. Especially with the heels thing. That’s not something a normal man would do for a woman. Well, wait, I’m getting off topic,” she waved the air like she was swatting away the other thoughts. “He definitely likes her. Well, not just like, but he’s probably in love with her. Maybe it just seems like he’s obsessed with your friend’s colleague because… I don’t know, he needs something from her which requires a bit more attention than usual.”

You pouted, gaze drifting away from your friend. “I guess…”

“Tell your friend that she’s overthinking, and that her boss is definitely in love with her.” Tara scoffed playfully, leaning forward so that the both of you were eye-to-eye. “And that she’s got this, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. Now, I have to finish off my weekly report; I’ve been putting it off the entirety of the weekend.”

Tara grinned, straightening up to go to her desk. “Alright, then!”

Once your friend was out of sight, you took a deep breath, recollecting your thoughts and putting yourself in hunter work mode. Though, just as you were about to touch your keyboard to type something, an energy pull caused you to reel forward towards it, making you gasp sharply. Your mind flashed with a multitude of conversations and memories of a factory, and you were quick to realize that it was memories of when and how the keyboard was made. You furrowed your brows at the sudden headache, feeling your heart pounding erratically. 

The pulses on not just your right wrist, but your left one, too, felt too strong for comfort. Lightheadedness, cold sweat, unregulated breathing—seriously, what was going on?

You couldn’t do any work that day, and told Jenna that you weren’t feeling well. You kept your hands inside of your pockets, though a picture of the person who made your uniform flashed through your brain every now and then. 

This didn’t feel like anything you’ve experienced before; you needed to go to the hospital pronto. There was a certain doctor that you’d overheard many of your hunter friends swoon over every time doctors were needed on the field. And with how much your heart was palpitating, he might be a good person to talk to about this.

—--

“Alright, then, let’s start with the basics.” Dr. Li’s cool voice filled the silent room, and you nodded. You tapped your knees awkwardly; it’s been a while since you’ve been in a doctor’s office. Usually, you had one of Sylus’ personal doctors do your annual check-ups, but you didn’t want him to know about this.

“Any history of heart problems?”

“None that I know of.”

“When did this start?”

“When I woke up this morning after a nightmare.”

“Has this been occurring frequently?”

“No, only today.”

“Do you drink a lot of coffee or indulge in a lot of caffeine? Are you susceptible to stress? Do you exercise often?”

“When needed, most of the time, and since I’m a hunter, yes.”

“What other symptoms have you been feeling other than heart palpitations?”

“Shortness of breath, sudden fatigue, lightheadedness… Does heartache count?”

“In the figurative sense, no.”

“Awh, damnit.”

Dr. Li scribbled the last of your responses before standing up, placing his stethoscope in his ears. “I’ll be checking your pulse now.”

You nodded, straightening up. “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Dr Li.”

He just let out a soft huff of air that you assumed to be as a laugh(?) before he spoke. “Dr. Zayne is fine, don’t worry. Now, take deep breaths.” And as you did so, he placed the end of the stethoscope towards your chest, his brows knitting together ever so slightly. It was subtle, but you learned to always look for even the most subtle of movements.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but your heart rate is incredibly quick, approximately 125. Is this your resting heart rate?” Dr. Zayne’s voice snapped you out of your heightened guard, and you replied to him with a nod. “At least for today, it is. Usually, it’s at 70 beats per minute, but now, it’s definitely more than that. It was at 138 just an hour or two ago; it’s been making me lightheaded the entire day.”

“You track your BPM regularly.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement that Dr. Zayne used to confirm. You pressed your lips into a thin line as a smile, and he smiled fondly, his mind seemingly drifting somewhere else. He removed the stethoscope from your chest and his ears, slinging it around his neck. Walking towards the water dispenser, he grabbed a cup and filled it, giving it to you afterward. You accepted it gracefully as he spoke. “A certain someone could learn from that. She’s your colleague, I believe.” He caught himself, and shook his head. “Excuse me, I was a bit unprofessional there.”

That piqued your interest, however, and you downed it all in one go as he went back behind his desk to write down what you needed to do. “No, it’s alright. Uh, are you talking about MC?”

Dr. Zayne’s eyes lit up the moment her name was mentioned, and for a second, he just stared at the pad of paper, a small smile on his face. Your eyes widened at the revelation, and your mind was suddenly brimming with thoughts. 

“I was, actually. Do you know her? Well, of course you do, she’s your colleague. How is she? I haven’t heard from her in a while. She said she was going to be out of town for a couple of weeks, but she also promised to update me.”

Wow, he talks a lot when it comes to MC. You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t heard from her, either.” Liar. “Are you two… dating?”

Dr. Zayne’s ears visibly reddened at your question, and he just averted eye contact, jaw tightening before he spoke. “No, we aren’t. As her primary physician, I’m just concerned for her. Now, here is what you need to be doing and regulating if ever symptoms persist. And if they ever escalate, visit me immediately.”

You accepted the piece of paper Dr. Zayne held up politely, nodding your head. “Alright, thank you so much. And by the way,” Dr. Zayne raised his brows as a confirmation that he was listening to you. “I’m positive MC is doing just fine. Just wait for her call.”

This time, it wasn’t just his ears that blushed, but his entire face until his neck. He cleared his throat and nodded tightly. “Thank you, (Name). Come back next week for a follow-up.”

And with that, you were on your way. It was still early in the day, though, and you didn’t want to go to the N109 Zone so early. So, you opted to stay at a quaint cafe near the hospital. You could feel yourself getting calmer by the second, as if that conversation with your doctor along with his obvious crush on your colleague had calmed your nerves down. 

You glanced at the paper, pouting when you realized he told you to relax on the caffeine, if able to cut it all together. 

Fine. Decaf it is, then.

@readerxyourbabe :33

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 4 (A!Ghost x O!Soap)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

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In today chapter we have, Angst and a little bit of Hurt no confort.

CW: Implied abortion

═══════════════════════════

The thud of Soap's feet against the marble floor echoed through the corridors of the clinic, one of his hands tightly squeezing his thigh and the other squeezing Gaz's hand. The two of them had been waiting for about fifteen minutes, and Soap was afraid that if he waited any longer, breakfast would spill out of his mouth.

Finally, after two minutes, a nurse called out to them, she was similar to Gaz, only with longer hair and a little shorter, she had a sweet smile, and as Soap imagined, Gaz introduced her as his sister, he spoke her name but Soap couldn't pay attention as he was immersed in his nervous thoughts.

However, a sweet scent of grape and dahlia gradually calmed him down, and soon Soap realised that it was Gaz's sister. An omega just like him. She gave him a smile and then went on her way, leading him into the consulting room while Gaz waited outside.

After sitting down in one of the room's cool leather chairs, he looked directly at Gaz's sister, who sat opposite him behind a desk full of papers, pens and a laptop. After opening something on the laptop, she turned to Soap and then asked. "Very well, Mr Mactavish, could you tell me your reasons for seeking my assistance?"

With a deep breath, Soap clasps his hands together and begins to explain. "In my last heat, I shared with my... partner, and I don't remember us using a condom. After a couple of weeks I started to feel sick, but when I noticed some of my symptoms I decided to take my doubts into my own hands, I took three pregnancy tests and they were all positive."

"Hm, I see, and your partner, how did he react to the news?" She made a face as if she already knew the outcome of the question.

Soap swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at the doctor. "He... didn't react well after I told him, he pushed me aside and has been ignoring me and running away from me, and I," he chokes and sobs, remembering the little growls every time he got close to Ghost. "I can't take it anymore."

The doctor looks at him expectantly and sadly. "He said this child wasn't his, and to go back to the guy I slept with behind his back, but I never cheated on him! I love him, and I'm not a cheater! But he wouldn't listen to me!" He sobs harder, fingers trembling and tingling.

She writes something down on her laptop for a moment, letting Soap compose himself before continuing. "I understand how you must be feeling, and I'm sorry about that, I imagine you'd never cheat on him, my little brother says how devoted you are. Really admirable. But why did you decide to come and try to carry out this operation?"

Soap puts his hand over his eyes, squeezing them with his palm, then lowers them to his mouth. "I don't want... this child to grow up in a home where there's only me, my mum went through that with me and I know how hard it was for her to raise a child on her own."

He remembers the nights his mum came home tired and collapsed on the sofa, how as a teenager Soap did everything for her at home to take a burden off her back, hearing her cry and beg relatives to lend her money when the bills got high.

The way she held him back when Soap presented himself as Omega, worrying that he would go through the same thing as her. And damn, she was right about that.

"And besides, I don't want to retire from the army just yet, I don't have any other qualifications to work outside the army, nor one... someone to help with everything." Soap leans back in his chair, sniffling and crossing his arms, trying to hold himself together even though he's slowly falling apart.

"Right, your motives are understandable, thank you for your candour." She searches through the papers on the table until she finds one in particular. "Now, I'm going to need you to listen carefully" She read a few lines before continuing. "There are some post-operative risks that could affect you in the future."

This made Soap's heart squeeze and his hand grip tighter against his shoulder. "Like what, Doc?" Soap asked, breathing shakily.

"Omegas that have an abortion tend to have their fertility lowered by 55%, meaning that you'd have problems getting pregnant in the future, your heats would be unbalanced and you wouldn't have a proper cycle, and since you're not mated to anyone, your glands would be affected, causing your scent to fail."

This could affect Soap greatly if he decides to have a baby in the future, but not removing this... 'thing' will make him connect with Simon forever. Is it worth going through that pain?

After two minutes of silence, Soap finds his voice again. "What are the methods for the operation?"

The doctor doesn't comment at all on the subject of the risks that Soap has ignored or on the smell of stress in the room. "There are two methods, one medical and one surgical. The medical one, we provide pills so that the abortion happens naturally in a few hours, and we also have the surgical one, in which you would be sedated while we surgically remove the foetus."

"By any chance... in the surgical method I would be unconscious while you...?"

The doctor nods. "Usually that's what we do, often the process can be traumatic with the pill." She turns to her laptop and types something in. "We can do an ultrasound to see how many weeks pregnant you are, in case that relieves anything."

Unconsciously Soap nods, he wants to get a glimpse of what his family might have been like.

After they left the room, Soap spotted Gaz waiting outside and asked him to accompany him while he did the ultrasound.

After the machine was set up and the gel applied, the doctor began to search, and in a few minutes Soap finally saw his little pup on the screen, as small as an apple, his hand squeezing Gaz's tightly, making the man tremble, but hold on tightly, showing that he was there for Soap.

Seven weeks. Seven weeks is how long Soap had been connected to this little thing, four of which he had practically been left to fend for himself by the person he loved more than life itself.

In Soap's mind, he begged and pleaded for forgiveness for his little boy who would never see the light of the sun or the blue of the sky, forgiveness for the love Soap couldn't give him, for his shitty father who abandoned him. 

Soap didn't realise when Gaz started hugging him as he shook hard and tears flowed out, choking on sobs and snot, staining his best friend's shoulder.

At the end of the day, Soap left with a signed form and an appointment for the operation.

═══════════════════════════

I've had to do a lot of research on the subject in order to maintain coherence, I'm not a doctor, so if I've made a mistake feel free to correct me.

One more thing, in situations like these, the doctor who is treating you will recommend a professional psychologist to help you before any decision is made, if the patient wishes. You can also withdraw from the operation if you want to, even if you've signed the papers.

Stay safe, and wait for the next part, which will be about Ghost.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

First Blood

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 1, Danny should have expected that he wouldn't be able to do this ghost fighting thing by himself forever. Though admittedly, he didn't expect things to go quite like this.

Author's Note:

My brain: Hey you should write a Danny Phantom AU

Me: Wtf? Why?

My brain: I wanna

Me:

Anyway I do partly blame this fic on AO3 by artistfingers for giving me the inspiration.

…

He’d meant to tell them, was the thing.  It was entirely a coincidence that they weren’t there when it happened in the first place.

Sam had been the one to first have the idea of checking out the ghost zone, even if Danny had been desperately curious before that too.  But she’d been the one to convince him to try it, and he’d even gotten into the suit his parents had designated for this purpose (thankfully with a thought from Sam to pull his Dad’s face off his chest), but before he could actually go in the portal and turn it on, Sam’s parents showed up and dragged her and Tucker home.

They had never been the biggest fans of Danny or his parents, and weren’t super happy when they learned Sam was there.  Tucker had tried to protest against getting dragged along, but Sam’s parents kind of had a presence you couldn’t stand up to for very long, so they’d both left eventually.

But Danny was only more desperately curious after almost going in, and he couldn’t know when his parents would both be out like this again.  So, he’d gone back an hour later and turned the portal on.  And then…

Well.

Then he’d started trying to come up with a way to say “hey guys I’m sort of half ghost now” without sounding like a total lunatic.

And then the ghost fights had started, and Danny Phantom became well known before Danny Fenton could come up with a way to explain it to them.  And then he didn’t want them to get hurt.  The fights were hard enough on him, and he had superpowers.

He’s… definitely regretting that decision now.  He should have known eventually he’d come across something he couldn’t defeat on his own, for one reason or another.  But he’d always assumed if that came up it would be a ghost that was just too powerful, and he could ask someone for help.  Hard to do that when the problem is an evil but human ringmaster with a ghost-controlling crystal ball.  Admittedly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

He’s not quite sure what’s going on when he comes to, but the crystal ball is shattered in pieces at his feet and the other ghosts he’s become familiar with are blinking in the space across from him.  Freakshow himself is in between them all, staring at the crystal ball like he’s trying to process what’s happening.

Danny’s doing the same thing.  This isn’t Amity Park, that’s clear enough, but he doesn’t know where he is.  He doesn’t know what’s just happened, though he has a vague memory of an overwhelming sense of anger giving him enough force to throw the crystal ball to the ground.

“You know,” Freakshow says, looking up with a terrified grin.  “When I called you, uh, ‘minions,’ it was really a term of endearment, like, ‘Oh, I love my minions!’”

Danny scoffs, meets eyes with the other ghosts, and finds them in agreement.

They drag Freakshow to the haul he’s made them all put together, call the cops, and fly off into the night.

But while the three of them go who-knows-where, Danny changes forms and heads for a grocery store or a gas station, any place where he can find a newspaper and hopefully figure out the date or his location.  Preferably both.

…It’s been weeks.  It’s been weeks and he’s halfway across the country.

Danny sits on the ground outside of the gas station and drops his head in his hands.  The homework alone is going to be a nightmare.

His stomach growls.  He’s been in his ghost form for who knows how long, and it’s probably been just as long since he ate, but he doesn’t have any money on him.

So, in a move he’s not exactly proud of, he steals a couple apples and bags of chips from the gas station and practically inhales them.  He sits on a bench for another hour or so before he realizes he probably can’t put off the inevitable anymore.

He switches forms again and starts flying home.

He’s pretty fast at this point, so it takes him no more than a couple hours to get there, but he has no idea what he’ll find when he arrives.  The past couple weeks get blurrier the closer the time gets to the present, but he has the feeling he’s done some bad stuff.  He doesn’t know what his public image in Amity Park is anymore, but he has an inkling it’s not exactly great.

And that’s just the Phantom side of things.  He’s going to have to deal with the Fenton side first, and that almost sounds worse.

First, however, he’s exhausted, and still hungry, and he can’t deal with this tonight.  So he resigns himself to worrying everyone for one more night, grabs some stuff from the fridge, and flies silently up to his bedroom.  He eats handfuls of whatever food he grabbed with his back to the door, and then leans back against it and breathes, taking in the feeling of at least being home.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem he’s going to get even a night of reprieve, because the next second someone bangs on the door he’s leaning against, and he splays forward on the ground with a surprised yelp.

He turns to see Jazz forcing the door open.  She freezes when she sees Danny, and for a couple seconds, they stare at each other.

“Uh,” Danny says.  “Hi?”

Jazz blinks.  “Hi?”

Danny swallows.  “Yeah?”

Jazz balls her hands into fists and glares at him.  “Where have you been?”

“Um.”

Jazz buries her hands in her hair and pulls on it, giving a frustrated scream.  “Danny!  Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

“Sorry,” Danny mutters, not sure what else to say.  He still has no idea what’s happened the past few weeks.

Jazz runs her hands over her hair, smoothing it down, and takes a deep breath.  Then she kneels down and pulls Danny into a crushing hug.

“Why would you run away like that?” Jazz says, but there’s something else in her voice, like she’s trying to get at something.  “Are you okay?  Are you hurt?  Do you want to—” she pulls back, and looks Danny in the eyes with a very pointed expression.  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, her voice suddenly very soft and gentle.

Danny stares at her for a second, not sure where the sudden shifting emotions from her came from.  Either way, he shakes his head.  He doesn’t even know what he’d say.  He’s going to have to come up with some kind of story, but how is he supposed to do that without contradicting something he doesn’t remember happening?

“Are you sure?” Jazz says, still looking at him intentionally, and Danny does not understand what she’s trying to say.  He’ll blame the exhaustion and brain fog.

Jazz sighs, and pulls him back into a hug.  “Okay.  But you’re going to have to explain to Mom and Dad why you’ve been missing for weeks.  Uh… for exactly three weeks and four days, as we both know very well of course.  And you’ll also have to explain why no one knows anything at all about where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing— as far as I know that is.”

Danny pulls back and gives her a baffled look.  “Why are you talking like that?”

“Excuse me!  You’re the one who runs away for, just to reiterate, exactly three weeks and four days to an unknown location, and you’re asking me why I’m being weird?”

Danny stares at her.  “Uh, I mean I kind of am now?”

“I can’t believe you!” Jazz exclaims, waving her arms up without actually looking that exasperated.  Then she leans forward and wraps her arms around Danny again.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she whispers, with a suspicious sniff that Danny doesn’t acknowledge.  “Please don’t scare me like that again.”

Danny reaches up and wraps his arms weakly around her.  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, which is all he can say, because he can’t exactly guarantee that nothing like this will happen again, can he?

For a minute, they both just sit there, and Danny tries to ignore how good it feels to be hugged by his sister, because that’s a totally lame realization to have, and he doesn’t need any more reasons for people to beat him up.

But then another familiar voice comes from behind them.

“Jazz?  What are you doing up—”

Danny jerks around and meets eyes with his mother, who stares wide-eyed back at him.

After a second, she turns and screams, “JACK!” then rushes forward and pulls Danny towards her.

“Are you okay?  Are you hurt?”  She takes his face in her hands, turning it back and forth.  “What were you thinking, you’re grounded for a month!  You look terrible, when did you eat last?  When did you shower?  Do you have any idea how worried sick we were?  I’m never letting you out of my sight again!  Was it ghosts?  What can you tell us about them?”

Danny laughs despite himself.  His mom is being so incredibly normal (well, normal by her standards) that it immediately brushes away quite a few of his worries.

Then he remembers what his best option for a cover story is, and his smile fades.  His dad shows up in the doorway a second later, looking half-asleep.

“It… it wasn’t ghosts, Mom,” he says, and at least that part is true, if misleading.  “I just… I’m sorry.”

His mom presses a hand to her forehead, looking like Danny’s taken about ten years off her life.  “You’re grounded for two months,” she amends.  “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Danny says, which is also true, if… also misleading.

“You got that right,” his dad said, putting his hands on his hips in what looked like his best impression of a stern father.  “You’re grounded for three months, mister.”

“That’s just going to keep going up, isn’t it,” Danny says with a sigh.

Jazz reaches over and gives him a side hug and a sympathetic smile, and Danny really isn’t sure what’s going on with her right now.

But honestly, for the moment, he’s just glad to be home.

…

Danny still isn’t quite sure how he manages to get out of giving any details to the police, but he does it.  He’s given back to his parents to decide his punishment, meaning he’s confined to house arrest for the next five months (it did keep going up).  That’s going to make ghost hunting a little bit difficult, but he’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

The one exception to grounding, obviously, is school, which Danny is equal parts dreading and looking forward to.  It was a Saturday when he got back, and of course Sam and Tucker know he’s returned, but he hasn’t gotten to see either of them.  He doubts he’ll be able to see them much outside of school or the occasional study party.

Stupid Freakshow.  This is going to ruin his life until Christmas.

Either way, Monday comes.  And Danny walks into the school and over to his locker and tries to ignore everyone staring at him.

A loud bang at his left causes him to jump and turn to see Sam leaning against the lockers, looking none too pleased.

“So,” she says.  “Have you finally decided the rest of us are worthy of your presence again?”

“Come on, Sam,” Tucker says, walking up behind her.  “You said you weren’t gonna be like that.”

“Sorry, he just screws off to nowhere and you expect me to not be upset?” Sam asks with a glare at Tucker before turning back around.  “Honestly Danny, you know I’m all for escaping awful parents, but you didn’t even tell us where you were going!  We didn’t know if you were okay!”

“My parents aren’t awful,” Danny mutters as he looks down at his feet, all he can think to say.

“Then why did you leave?” Sam snaps, leaning into his face.

Danny winces, leaning back.  “Do we have to do this out here in the hallway?”

Sam huffs, standing up straight and glaring away.  “Fine.  Whatever.  I’m going to class.”  She stalks off without another word.

Danny sighs and turns to his locker so he can put the textbooks he needs into his backpack.  It’s not his fault, and he knows that, but he still feels like the worst person on the face of the planet for making them worry.

“So…” Tucker says slowly, leaning back against the locker much less angrily than Sam.  “Why did you leave?”

Danny closes his locker and swings his bag over his shoulder.  “Doesn’t matter.  I’m back, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, except it kind of does, though?  Dude, if you feel like leaving again, I want to help you.”

Danny turns to look at him and sees nothing but honest concern in Tucker’s eyes.

He wishes it was that easy.

“You can’t,” he says.

“Why not?”

“It’s not—” Danny sighs, looking around to make sure no one’s listening.

Everyone is listening.

“Not here,” he says, turning back to Tucker.  “And not now.”

Tucker looks at him for another second.  “Okay,” he says finally.  “But don’t think I’m letting up on this.”

Danny smiles just a little bit.  “I know you’re not,” he says.

The warning bell rings.

“I have to go,” Danny says.  “If I cut first period on my first day back after running away, I think my parents will actually kill me.”

Tucker smirks.  “Sounds like you brought that one on yourself, dude,” he says.  “But sure.  See ya at lunch.”

“See ya,” Danny says, and turns to walk the other way.

The day is about what he expects.  Mocking and socks in the stomach from Dash, dry remarks and glares along with piles of makeup work from teachers.  He’s exhausted, but he deals with all of it and prepares to work through it until things are at least marginally back to normal.

He can’t wait for Sam and Tucker to not be mad at him.  That would help a ton.

There doesn’t seem to be much of a chance of that when lunch arrives, however, because Sam starts glaring at him the second he sits down, and Tucker just gives him that same concerned look that Danny is pretty sure he can’t make go away without spilling his guts.

…Well, not that “hey Tucker I was actually being mind controlled by that ringmaster from Circus Gothica” would make him less concerned.  If he believed him in the first place, that is.

Danny doesn’t know what to say to break the awkward silence, but apparently Sam has that covered.

“So, Tucker,” she says, very loudly.  “Are we still on for Nasty Burger after school?”

Ouch.  Fair enough.

“Uh,” Tucker says, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Maybe that’s not such a great idea anymore?”

“Why?  Are we supposed to drop our plans the second Danny decides to stop being childish?”

“Okay,” Danny says, turning to face her.  He’s positive he doesn’t have the energy to deal with an angry Sam for the weeks it takes her to forgive him.  “What do you want me to say to you, Sam?”

Sam turns her glare on him.  “I want you to tell me why on earth you left with no notice of when you’d be back or whether or not you were okay or why you were leaving,” she snaps.  “Why the fuck would you do that to us?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Danny says, looking down as guilt stabs him in the chest.  “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean you weren’t trying to?  What were you trying to do?”

“I don’t know,” Danny says, because it’s true.  He doesn’t really remember the exact specifics of when and where and why he left Amity Park with Freakshow.  He is pretty sure he wasn’t around as Danny Fenton for at least a couple days before that, though, meaning Jazz’s random ‘three weeks and four days’ comment was probably more accurate than the one he’d worked out from the newspaper.

“I really don’t know what I was thinking,” he reiterates, forcing himself to turn and look at Sam.  “I don’t know what else to say.  I’m sorry.”

He watches anger and concern and something else war on Sam’s face for a second before she scoffs and glares away.  “You’re really not going to tell us what happened?” she asks.

“I… don’t know if you’d believe me,” Danny says quietly, looking down at his awful school lunch that is leagues better than the almost nothing he’s probably eaten the past couple weeks.

Sam gives a bitter laugh, shaking her head.  “Oh my god.”

“Sam,” Tucker says, narrowing his eyes at her.

“What?” Sam asks, turning her glare to him again.  “Are you trying to pretend you haven’t spent the last three weeks terrified out of your mind too?”

Danny fights to not hunch over on himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead, turning to look at Sam.  “I really am.  I didn’t want to scare you.  I’m sorry.”

Sam looks at him firmly for a long second, and she must see something in his face that makes her believe him, because she stabs at the limp broccoli on her tray without looking at it and says, “You gonna do it again?”

Danny shakes his head and prays to whatever’s out there listening that he’s not lying right now.  If Desiree was around, he might even make a wish on it.

Sam seems to accept that at least a little bit.  She turns and takes a bite of her vegetables.  “If you do I’ll murder you,” she says.

You’re a couple months late for that, Danny doesn’t say.  Instead he just nods.

“So,” Tucker says, drawing both of their attentions with a much more easygoing smile on his face.  “I imagine you’ve got a lot of homework to make up, Danny.  You want to move our hangouts to after school while you’re doing that at least?”

Danny smiles gratefully at him, and Sam sighs and mutters, “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

So that’s where they end up, and Danny immediately appreciates how almost-normal it feels.  One of the last clear memories he has before things start getting fuzzy is studying in the same library with Sam and Tucker, so in a way it feels like picking up where he left off— with some unwelcome tension added to the air.

Danny spends the first half hour or so doing homework while Tucker and Sam talk idly next to him about things they’ve done in the past three weeks that he’s apparently missed out on.  Unlike lunch, there’s no anger involved, just awkwardness and hesitation, which is… better, he supposes.

Finally after an hour, when he’s only finished a tiny bit of homework for one of his classes, he sits back in his chair and massages his temples.  “This is gonna take me a month.”

“Well, you did miss almost a month of work,” Sam says, with a not-very-sympathetic smile.  “You don’t really have anyone to blame but yourself.”

“I’m gonna get so tired of that sentiment,” Danny says, dropping his head into an open textbook.

“It’s true.”

“I know,” Danny mutters without lifting his head.

“Did you at least have fun while you were on your runaway vacation?” Tucker asks.

Danny pulls his head up and finds Tucker now leaning on the table in front of him.

“No,” he says, because he’s sick of lying.

Tucker winces.  “Ouch.”

Sam snorts.  “Serves you right.”

“Sam,” Tucker says, at the same time Danny waves her off with “I know, I know, I get it.”

Sam sighs, and pushes herself up on the table.  “Alright, look.  You should probably lie low for the first month or two.  But when your parents eventually stop watching you closer I can help you sneak out for a little fun from time to time.”

Danny gives her a grateful smile.  “Thanks, Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You owe me one.”

“I already owe you one,” Danny says.

“You got that right,” Sam says, crossing her arms with a smirk.  She probably thinks he means her forgiving him so quickly.  He doesn’t.

They don’t stay much longer, because the hour after school in the library is the only time his parents gave him before he has to go home.

As soon as he gets a free moment, when his parents are busy making dinner, he sneaks downstairs and looks up Danny Phantom on the computer.

Just as he expected, it’s not great.  Most of the things it lists Phantom as doing are robberies and property damage, about what he expects.  But there’s also quite a few mentions of him being cruel to the other ghosts in Freakshow’s circus, and he… cannot figure out how he feels about that.

Fighting ghosts is nothing new, obviously.  But the ghosts in Freakshow’s circus didn’t choose to be there.  He didn’t choose to hurt them either, but he still feels kind of uncomfortable with it, with the idea that it happened and he doesn’t even remember it.

“Danny?”

Danny yelps and closes the window on the computer, spinning around to see Jazz standing there.

“Jazz,” he says weakly.  “I uh, I didn’t hear you come down here.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Jazz says, giving him a look he can’t read.

She looks at the computer, and it’s way too obvious she saw what he was looking at.

“You know,” she says, turning back to him.  “Unless you’re just catching up on the ghost fighting from the past couple weeks, I wouldn’t put too much thought into Phantom.”

Danny blinks.  “Uh, why?”

Jazz rolls her eyes.  “He was so obviously under the control of that Freakshow guy,” she says.  “Don’t you think?”

“What?” Danny stares at her.  “How would you know that?”

Jazz gives him a soft smile and leans forward to kiss the top of his head.  “Just a hunch I have,” she says.

“Gross, get off me,” Danny says, though he can’t put any real bite into it and he’s pretty sure Jazz can tell.

“I pay attention, you know,” Jazz says, stepping back.

Danny swallows.  “Yeah?  How much?”

“Enough to know that robbery and property damage isn’t Phantom’s MO,” Jazz says with a roll of her eyes.  “And that those reports aren’t gonna say anything about what he’s actually like.”  She pauses and looks at Danny for a minute, then clears her throat and looks away.  “You know, just in case you’re curious about that kind of thing.  You should find better sources.”

“And what are you, a journalist?” Danny asks.

“I’m just… concerned,” Jazz says hesitantly.  “I hope that… wherever Phantom is, he’s doing okay.  I hope he knows it’s not his fault.”

Danny doesn’t say anything, and he and Jazz stare at each other for a minute.

They’re interrupted by their mom calling from upstairs, “Kids, are you coming or not?”

“We’re coming Mom!” Jazz calls back.  She looks back at Danny and nods her head up the steps, and Danny shuts off the computer and follows her up.

…

He’s not that shocked when he gets nightmares about Freakshow, but it’s definitely inconvenient.  If he can think of one thing that won’t help with getting things back to normal, it’s being consistently sleep deprived.

The worst part is that he can’t really be sure which of the nightmares are his brain throwing his worries back in his face, and which parts are actually his brain putting together things that have happened that he can’t remember right.

Honestly, maybe it doesn’t matter that much.  Either way, he doesn’t get a full night of sleep once for the first week he’s back.  He can tell Jazz notices, though he’s pretty sure his parents aren’t picking up on anything, and none of them say anything.  He tries his hardest to pay attention at school, because he really can’t afford to fall behind due to falling asleep in class.

Unfortunately, between trying to act normal around his family and pay attention during school, that means he usually spends the first half hour with Sam and Tucker passed out asleep on top of his textbooks.

“Dude,” Tucker says, after the fifth school day in a row of waking him up so he can do at least some of the homework he’s missed.  “What time are you going to bed?”

“Yeah Danny, I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but maybe you need to go to sleep a little bit earlier,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow.

“You act like I’m not trying that,” Danny mutters, rubbing at his eyes.

“What’s stopping you?” Sam asks.

“Uh,” Danny says, not having thought that far ahead.

“Danny, seriously, on top of being the only time you can get your homework done, this is also the only time we get to hang out with you for a while,” Sam says.  “I’d appreciate it if you could stay awake for all of it.”

“I’m trying, honestly,” Danny says, leaning back in his chair.  “It’s not like I don’t care.  I do.”

“Then what’s going on, Danny?” Tucker asks.  “You know you can still talk to us, right?  You can always talk to us.”

Danny winces.

Well, maybe he can start small.

“I… I’ve had a couple nightmares,” he admits, running a hand through his hair as he sits up.  He pulls his homework closer so he doesn’t have to look either of them in the eyes.  “It’s not a big deal.”

“Nightmares about what?” Sam asks, giving him a look he can feel without looking back.  “Did something happen?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Danny says.  “Can we just acknowledge it and move on?”

“Uh, no?” Sam says, reaching forward and pulling the homework away from him.

“Hey!” Danny says, turning to her.

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect followup questions,” Sam says, crossing her arms.  “Nightmares about what happened while you were gone?”

Danny sighs.  “Maybe.”

“What happened?” Tucker asks, obvious concern in his voice and on his face.

Danny looks up at him, not having a clue what to say.  Should he explain the one about blasting all of the other ghosts into the concrete hard enough to cause a dent, or the one about terrorizing a small child and her mother to get them away from the paintings they were trying to steal?

Neither of those sound like they’ll come without follow up questions.

Danny reaches over and pulls his homework back over in front of him.  “There just wasn’t a lot of food going around,” he says, settling on the one human experience he can reliably count on.

There’s a couple seconds of silence, and then Tucker gives a long sigh.  “Dude,” he says.  “Why did it take you so long to come back?”

“I need to get this science homework done,” Danny says in lieu of a reply.

Neither of them say anything back to him.

Strangely enough, the first one who comes up with something that’s actually helpful in regards to the nightmares is Jazz.  And she seems to do it unintentionally, like she’s been doing a lot lately.  She very casually at dinner one night brings up an article she’s read about how rewriting the endings of nightmares can sometimes be a good way for someone to calm down after having them, then starts discussing the science of dreams and sleep and how both of them are important and how to make sure both of them are going as smoothly as they can.

…Okay, maybe this time it’s a little more intentional than she wants to let on.

That doesn’t mean her ideas aren’t worth trying, though, so Danny gets a notebook to keep on the nightstand for alternate endings to write down.  (He’ll destroy the pages every morning for privacy purposes, but he draws the line at getting a night light.)

It ends up being helpful enough that he can at least fall back asleep, which is a big improvement, if the ideas he writes down seem a little unrealistic, with how hard it actually was to break out of Freakshow’s control.  Either way, he’s not so tired, and despite how loathe he is to admit it, he has Jazz to thank for that.

Not that he’ll ever tell her that, of course.

…

It’s a week and a half after he returns that things change in a meaningful way.  He hasn’t had any ghost fighting to do since getting back, but that changes during lunch on Monday.  Not anything he can’t handle, just a quick eye roll with the Box Ghost, but it apparently means something very different to the rest of Amity Park, and, more important to him personally, to Sam and Tucker.

“I mean honestly,” Sam is saying when Danny shows up at the library after school.  She’s pacing back and forth across the library, and though Tucker waves at him when he notices him, Sam continues marching angrily in front of the table.

“Who does he think he is, showing up like nothing’s different?  First of all, he ruined Circus Gothica, and then he just shows up expecting everyone to still see him as the hero?  That’s not how that works!”

“Hey Danny,” Tucker says as he approaches.  “Don’t mind Sam, she’s pissed off about the ghost fight today.”

“Why?” Danny asks, setting his bag down on the table.  “I didn’t think that was really your scene.”

“Not until that Invis-o-Bill idiot made it personal by messing with my circus,” Sam says, rolling her eyes with obvious anger.  “And then expects everything he’s done in the past couple weeks to just be brushed off.”

Danny sighs, reaching inside his backpack for his homework.  “Yeah, that figures.”

“What figures?” Tucker asks in confusion.

“Math figures,” Danny says, dropping his notebook on the table.  “Gonna try and knock out a lot of the math homework today.”

“Uh, fair enough?” Tucker says, still sounding confused.  “But honestly Sam, at least he seems to have gotten over whatever’s been going on and isn't actively being malicious anymore.”

“Great, so we’re supposed to reward him for the bare minimum?”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” Danny asks, looking up with what he hopes comes off as annoyance.  “I get enough of ghosts from my parents, I was kind of appreciating you guys actually being a break from all of that.”

“Look, you don’t get it,” Sam says.  “I don’t imagine you’ve been following ghost news for the past couple weeks, but he’s—”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Danny snaps, giving Sam as firm a glare as he dares to right now.

Sam raises her eyebrows.  “Excuse me?”

“Sam, honestly, I’ll let you be as mad at me as you need for as long as you want,” Danny says.  “But please, can you back off with the ghosts?  My parents already think I was kidnapped by them or something, I don’t want to talk about them during the only time of the day I can actually relax for a little bit.  Okay?”

Thankfully, Sam and Tucker both go quiet.  Now he’ll just have to hope that neither of them actually ask his parents about that excuse and realize he already told them that’s not what happened.

But apparently he’s misjudged their silence, because after a minute Tucker taps his textbook with a pencil, drawing his attention.

He looks up and finds Tucker and Sam both looking at him like they’re trying to come up with the right way to say something.

He blinks.  “What?”

“Danny,” Tucker says slowly.  “If I ask you something, can you promise not to freak out?”

“No,” Danny says honestly.

Tucker considers this for a second.  “Fair.  I’m gonna ask anyway.  Did you actually run away of your own free will?”

Danny goes stiller than, well, a dead person.  “What?”

“Did you actually run away?”

Danny looks back and forth between him, and then Sam, and then back.  “Why are you asking me that?”

“Dude,” Tucker says, leaning closer.  “You’re not acting like yourself.  Even ‘just made a huge mistake and now everyone’s mad at you’ yourself.  You’re having nightmares, and you don’t want to talk about what’s causing them.  Did you actually run away?”

Danny opens his mouth, shuts it, and looks down at his math textbook.

“…Danny,” Sam says, sounding baffled and angry but also more concerned than he’s heard from her since he got back.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because that’s something you just say in the middle of the hallway,” Danny snaps despite himself.

“Danny, come on,” Sam says.  “Why are you just letting everyone be mad at you then?  You need to tell someone—”

“No,” Danny says.

“What?  Dude,” Tucker says, leaning forward with obvious worry.  “They could go after someone else, or come after you again—”

“He won’t.”

“You can’t know that!”

“Yeah, well, I do,” Danny says, keeping his gaze very firmly on his math homework.  “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know what?  Fine,” Sam snaps, pushing her chair back and grabbing her bag.  “Because you’re being ridiculous.”

With that, she turns and marches out of the library.

Danny doesn’t say anything in protest and starts working on the first math problem on the sheet.

“You know,” Tucker says quietly.  “She was really really scared when you weren’t here.”

Danny keeps writing.

“She was worried something was gonna happen to you and she’d never see you again,” Tucker continues.  “I…” there’s a pause, and then he sighs.

“I’m not gonna make you talk about anything you don’t want to, dude,” he says.  “Just… know that she’s not actually mad at you.  She’s just still scared.”

Danny sighs and puts his pencil down.  “Yeah,” he says.  “I know.”

Tucker reaches out and puts a hand on Danny’s shoulder, in a way that should feel really awkward but somehow doesn’t.  “You know you can tell me anything,” he says.  “Right?”

Danny looks away.

“Okay,” Tucker sighs.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He picks up his stuff and leaves.

…

Danny spends the night laying on his bed tossing a ball up in the air and trying to catch it.  He has to get up and chase it down more often than he’d like, he’s not exactly the most athletic person out there.

He ignores his growing stomach and skips dinner, telling his mom he’s not feeling well.  He can always go down and grab something after everyone else falls asleep.

After dinner, however, he hears a knock on his  door.

“What?”

“Can I come in?” Jazz asks.

Danny pauses in tossing the ball in the air and considers for a moment.  “Yeah.”

The door opens as Danny resumes tossing the ball.  Jazz walks in, then closes the door behind her and heads over towards the bed, already looking concerned. 

“Are you doing okay?” she asks.  “You were upset about something when I came to pick you up, and now you’ve been up here for hours.”

Danny manages to actually catch the ball and sits up, setting it down next to him.  “Okay, what is with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting like, aggressively supportive since I got back,” Danny says.  “Sam is angrier at me than you.  Mom and Dad are angrier at me than you.”

“I’m your sister,” Jazz says.  “It’s not my job to get angry at you.  It’s my job to support you.”

“No, you’re my sister,” Danny says.  “It’s your job to tease me relentlessly and make my life way harder.”

Jazz gives him a look.  “You really don’t need that right now.”

“And why should you care?” Danny snaps.  “I brought this on myself, remember?”

Jazz doesn’t say anything.

“I just, I’m trying to understand what your deal is,” Danny says.  “Do you want something?  Are you trying to butter me up for some reason?  What are you getting out of this?”

Jazz gives him what almost seems like a sad look, then reaches forward and squeezes Danny’s hand.  “I’m worried about you,” she says quietly.

“Why?” Danny says, pulling his hand away.

Jazz sighs, looking down at the bed.  “Because we both know you didn’t run away, Danny.”

Danny throws his hands up.  “This again?  I’m fine.  No one died, no one hurt me, I didn’t have to hurt— people, so I’m fine!”

Jazz gives him a look.  “That is in no way how that works.”

Danny shakes his head, glaring down at the covers.

Jazz nudges him gently in the side.  “I’m not going to make you say something you’re not ready to,” she says.  “Just know that you can tell me anything, Danny.”

With that, she stands and starts to walk out, and Danny feels a weight press down on his chest, one he’s barely sure he can take anymore.

“Jazz, wait,” he says, reaching out and catching her arm.

Jazz pauses and turns back around.  “Yeah?”

“I—” Danny says, and stops.  Nerves start to crawl up his throat.  He half expects his ghost sense to go off, but it’s not that kind of anxiety.

He takes a deep breath.  “If I tell you something,” he says.  “Can you promise to let me explain everything before you make any kind of judgment?”

Jazz smiles at him.  “I promise,” she says with a nod.

Danny takes a shaky breath.  “I, um.”  He stops.

“Yeah?” Jazz probes gently.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down and clenching his hands around his blankets.  “I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud before.”

Jazz reaches out and puts her hand over his.  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says.  “I… already know.”

Danny jerks his head up.  “What?”

By the look on her face, he can tell they both mean exactly the same thing.

“You…” Danny says weakly.  “How long?”

“Uh, since the Spectra thing,” Jazz says, rubbing the back of her neck with a sheepish smile.  “I wanted to give you a chance to tell me yourself.”

Danny gapes at her for a second, Jazz gives him a soft smile.

“And you…” he says finally.  “You don’t care?”

“Of course I care,” Jazz says, crossing her arms.  “I care that you’re safe.  I care that if you don’t want someone to know, they don’t find out.  I care that you’re my brother and you’ve been trying to do this all alone.  I care that some jerk ran off with you and has been forcing you to do things you clearly don’t want to do for the past month.”

Danny winces and looks down.

“Are you okay?” Jazz says, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“Not… really,” Danny says.

Jazz wraps her arms around him and pulls him over towards her, and this time he doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t like watching you do this all by yourself,” Jazz says.  “Can I help you?”

Now Danny does pull away, if just to stare at her in bafflement.  “You want to help?”

“Of course I want to help,” Jazz says, like that’s obvious.  “If anything, the past month is a clear sign that you shouldn’t be doing this by yourself.”

Well, he can’t exactly argue with her there.  Still…

“It’s dangerous, Jazz,” he says.

Jazz raises her eyebrows.  “All the more reason I don’t want you rushing into danger without backup.”

“I can handle it,” he says.  “That’s what the ghost powers are for.”

“Danny.”  Jazz leans forward, giving him a pointed look.  “I want to help you.  Okay?”

Danny looks at her for a minute.  He takes a breath.  “Okay.”

Jazz leans forward and pulls him into another hug, and for once, Danny can know she means it.  His brain can’t make any arguments about how she wouldn’t be doing this if she knew, because she does know.

And, well.

He could get used to that.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

I had a interesting conversation with a friend the other the day. We're both writers but she writes fantasy while I lean more towards literary. She asked me "if someone offered to pay you a large some of money to write a certain story, within the scope or genre that you usually enjoy writing in, would you accept it?"

My answer was absolutely not. For me writing is a very personal endeavor and even if someone tried to commission me to write a literary piece about something I'd enjoy writing about, it would still feel like I was writing for someone else and not myself.

My friend however said she would accept and explained why. She said that she'd happily take the money if the request was within her genre and contained trope or themes she likes writing about anyway. To her it was a no brainer.

We ended up discussing it further and it was a really eye opening to me how differently some writers can view their craft.

What are your thoughts on this? If someone offered you money to write a story similar to the ones you already do would you accept? Or are you like me and would decline?

Hi anon,

This really does come down to personal preference.

I don't think I could ever be commissioned for a long story of any kind. I've never been open to it (and I have had very generous offers in the past).

Prompts for much shorter works are a bit different, though it does have to be something I'm already willing to do or a couple I already write. I used to actually write in response to prompts a million years ago when I had more time, though I've never done like, direct commissions for writing of any kind.

When I worked as an artist, I did commissions and learned firsthand that even when it's for something I love drawing (animals), or even an animal I would have chosen to draw on my own, commissions are extremely stressful. And eventually I refused to offer them at all, anymore, which sometimes baffled folks who are like 'but you're still doing art so why won't you do a commission for guaranteed money' and it's like well, because the extra hours of stress that the commission will cause is not something that person is paying for, and I'm not sure they *could* pay for it.

Peace of mind is free in that sense.

There's something about... waiting on someone else's approval and doing art directly for someone in that way which is very difficult for me, and makes me feel very pinned down.

Patreon and Ream is the closest I can come in the sense that... folks would not be there if they did not enjoy any of my writing at all, or didn't think they'd enjoy some of it in the future. But that's not 1:1, and it's not dependent on a single arbiter of judgement on my creative ability. It's dependent on many people, which means when one person isn't enjoying themselves anymore, other folks catch the slack, which is how it goes in most creative fields.

When you're in that 1:1 commission position - and I can talk about this from experience - not everyone can do it. And for me personally, I learned I'm one of those people. Others do it and thrive on it, but it made me want to stop doing art completely, and I nearly quit several times because of it. I was extremely lucky, I would say all of my clients bar like two, were lovely people, and I've done maybe 100~ commissions re: art. They were incredibly generous and beautiful people, and people are a lot less generous than they used to be these days.

And I still found it that stressful, and increasingly stressful! Lol.

For the people who don't get stressed to that degree, of course I can see no reason why they wouldn't take on commissions! If a person has enough money, that's sometimes like several weeks or months of rent depending on the project.

Outside of that re: your personal response:

it would still feel like I was writing for someone else and not myself.

I am writing for other people when I'm getting paid for that writing. This is something I don't forget about, and it's why I continue to do fanfiction as 'fun writing' and don't include that in subscription, so I always sort of have a base to touch in on re: not getting paid for at least some of the writing I'm doing.

I will say it still adds stress and pressure, and also learning the line between writing for myself / writing for others / making sure I don't fanservice in a way that ruins immersion or the story / making sure that I don't avoid it completely either because it's still very fun to put in easter eggs (my favourite, recently, is in Constellations - folks on AO3 will see that chapter soon!)

But the stress/pressure is different, and sometimes even very motivational and inspiring. Writing for many other people instead of one other person actually reduces the pressure for me. For others, it's different, that's - I assume - why so many people can participate in things like Fic Exchanges, which is far too much pressure for me even if it doesn't involve money at all. It's the pressure of meeting expectations with something subjective and creative, after all, if someone is commissioning something, it means I haven't yet written what they ultimately want me to write. Which means I might not be capable of writing it. That feels like a knife's edge that starts cutting me even before I deliver a draft to them.

(I also struggle to commission others for this reason, like I've given myself a pretty big complex over commissions.)

That being said if someone came along and said 'I will pay you a house worth of money to write this project' and it's a project I want to actually do? Yeah, I'd consider it, lmao. Sometimes stress is worth it salkfjsda - but I don't see that ever happening, and I'm already extraordinarily fortunate that folks support my writing in the way that they do!

[risualto]

Fic Writers' 20 Questions

I was tagged by @lumeha. Thank you!

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 117, apparently.

2) What's your total AO3 word count? 146,273. That's less than I thought. I really should work on writing some more hahaha.

3) What are your top five fics by kudos? Support (And Other Ways to Make Friends) [FE3H] "Cheated" [YGO] "Unseen" [Danny Phantom] "Concrete Faith" [Pathologic] "Of Cats and Ribbons" [Fairy Tail]

4) What fandoms do you write for? As you can kind of see from the above, just...a lot of anime and video games. I was a bit sad none of my top 5 were FF14, but then I remembered that I actually haven't published any of Inky's stories on AO3. Besides, OC ship fics usually don't get as many hits, so they probably wouldn't be on that list...most of the ones that are there only have so much attention because they're old. Or, in the case of "Concrete Faith," because it's kinky.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, I always respond to comments. It means a lot that someone took the time to write to me about their thoughts, so I try to write back.

6) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? If we don't include micro-stories, then this is probably a toss-up between "Ashes, Ashes," and "Descent." I don't really write sad endings because I don't usually like them. It's not what I want out of fiction.

7) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I can't possibly choose. Most of my stories have happy endings. I'm not sure I can meaningfully rank them.

8) Do you get hate on fics? No, thankfully.

9) Do you write smut? Yes, but most of it doesn't get published under this pen name. Someday I'd like to change that, but we'll see.

10) Do you write crossovers? Theoretically, sure, if the crossover is compelling enough. I don't think I've published anything that was explicitly a crossover, though...?

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of. I'm sure it's happened, though, especially since I took a little too long to lock my fics behind the sign-in requirements.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a couple of times.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Lumeha and I had a pretty compelling post-Patho-2 world, but it was never published. I've been part of collaborative projects before, but I don't think I've published anything that was cowritten, exactly. Anything I write that features Helvi/Rinoire (@sayonaramidnight) or Aurelle/T'Nali (@orime-stories) or Kaede (no active tumblr) is technically co-written, though, since I'm borrowing their characters. I've written fics featuring other people's OCs for Speaker as well.

14) What's your all time favourite ship? I don't know. I couldn't choose. Maybe I'm just too tired and this is a cop-out answer, but there are too many ships I like that are important to me for different reasons.

15) What's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don't keep a lot of WIPs. If I can't finish a project for some reason, I tend to trash it. If I start writing something, I do my best to see it through.

16) What are your writing strengths? I think I'm pretty good at writing dialogue and conveying emotion. Sometimes I even get inspired with some good similes.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? I really struggle with different tone styles. All of my writing has a semi-serious narrative voice, even when my POV character shouldn't necessarily be like that. Writing as Inky has helped me a little in that regard, but I still struggle adapting my narrative voice to different genres. I could never write pure comedy, for example.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don't know if this means writing the dialogue in another language and leaving it in that other language, or using another language to write the dialogue. Generally, I think I currently come down on the side of, there must be a really good in-universe reason for dialogue in another language to be notated in that other language (or a romanized approximation). If the POV character can understand what's being said, I think the dialogue should be written in the same language as the rest of the fic with a notation that the speaker is using a different one, recognized by the listener. If the POV character can't understand, then I don't think there's much to be gained by writing out syllables they probably can't even think of in their own linguistic terms--unless, for example, you really want the dramatic irony for people who also speak the language in question, or maybe if there's some kind of untranslatable phrase that holds specific value, (e.g. Keelah se'lai in Mass Effect) or something similar. There are also cases where dialect mixing and language evolution might make it reasonable for a character who primarily speaks Dwarvish to know a few Elven words and mix them into their own speech...or with real-world language, sometimes I choose not to translate honorifics specifically, but it really depends on the tone of the story and the target audience.

Tl;dr I think it's a little silly to just write a whole sentence in another language if the POV character doesn't understand it.

That said, I also tend to sometimes translate my dialogue into another language, then re-translate it back to force myself to think about what is REALLY important about what's being said. It's also a bit like the "turn everything to comic sans" trick to catch typos--if dialogue is sounding awkward, switching to another language sometimes gets things un-stuck.

19) First fandom you wrote for? Neopets.

20) Favourite fic you've ever written? I can't choose.

I will tag (if you like!) @orime-stories @sayonaramidnight @undyingembers @captainofthefallen @queen-scribbles @dragonologist-phd and @clefaiiiry.

[demial4]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

I have been inflicted with a tag game. How dare you? /j @sephirthoughts. My writing blog is @demialwrites in case there's any confusion for anyone

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

Around 165 (160, plus a few on a secret account)

2) what's your total ao3 word count?

489,451

3) what are your top five fics by kudos?

All from my Overwatch years:

It Will Be Okay Animal Drabbles Kitty Kompanion Hug Therapy Cornered

4) what fandoms do you write for?

Right now, it's just FF7. I would like to write for other fandoms (like Metaphor Refantazio or some more Persona 5) but I don't have the energy right now.

5) do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I do. I want validation but I'm also battling the fear of being perceived.

6) what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Emotional Touching (Overwatch). I killed the romantic lead at the end and didn't warn anyone. lol I'm more likely to tag that kind of thing now.

7) what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm not sure I believe in happy endings because life is more complicated than that so I haven't written many. Not sure which to peg as the one.

8) do you get hate on fics?

No. Not usually. I've had a couple of criticizing comments. One I ultimately decided was right (however, they threatened me with a bad reputation online and I did not react well to that) and the other, I decided later they could shove it. I gave a character asexuality and as someone who considers themselves on that spectrum, I didn't appreciate the criticism I received for how I wrote the character. I believe I should be able to explore and make mistakes, if a mistake was made. They did not approach me that way. Also, fuck, I love abusing characters??? Don't tell me I can't stretch armstrong these fuckers into whatever situation I want.

9) do you write smut?

OH BOY DO I

10) do you write crossovers?

I did twice. Both Overwatch/My Hero Acadamia. Did not realize I was heavy on the hero thing at the time!

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, I don't think so.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13) have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Oh, yes!!! Another Overwatch fic, of course. I had a great time because I was quite close with that friend at the time. We've drifted apart since. I hope she's doing well.

14) what's your all time favorite ship?

Genji Shimada x Hanzo Shimada for, what I hope, is for obvious reasons. ;)

15) what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Right now, it's Rufus vs Reeve. I love will-they-won't-they kind of stuff but I'm terrible at coming up with plot right now so it'll probably keep languishing.

16) what are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty good at dialogue because it's what I have the most practice writing.

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

I am terrible at description. I always had trouble expressing myself and writing long enough papers in high school/college so it's not a surprise I struggle with description.

18) thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Nope. I have anxiety about making a mistake. I suppose I could write some if it was a German character but making it sound natural and casual wouldn't be guaranteed.

19) first fandom you wrote for?

I recently remembered a fic I started as a younger teenager and I've forgotten the fandom. It was either Gundam, Power Rangers, or Animorphs.

20) favourite fic you've ever written?

Bless Me Father, For We Have Sinned.

Commissioned noncon with an evil priest character. Oh, my lord. lol It was just...wrong and juicy and straight smut. Loved writing it. It flowed out so easily. Something about writing a character that delights in abusing another person was refreshing and made me feel like a purring kitty.

@vicariousrufusenjoyer mind if I tag you? answer on whichever blog you feel is most fitting and anyone else. I don't know if I know you well enough to tag some of y'all yet

[misc-obeyme]

Since the topic was brought up again and I also don't think it's the reason the game gave us--do you have any theories why Barbatos might be so upset with Solomon?

Personally I feel like it might have to do with MC somehow, and that the whole Number 8 thing was just a pretense so Barbatos wouldn't have to say the actual reason in front of MC......

Well, to begin with, I absolutely agree with you, Melody. I think Barbatos was just saying that because he didn't want to tell MC the real reason.

This got a little lengthy & there are some spoilers, so I'm going to put it under the read more!

I very much think that there is something else going on between Solomon and Barbatos, that it has to do with Nightbringer and thus MC and their trip into the past, and whatever it is, Barbatos doesn't feel like he can speak about it freely.

I have thought since the beginning that Barbatos knows what's going on with Nightbringer. He makes some comments that indicate as much and the fact he gave MC a piece of his grimoire for Belphie's episode... he just knows too much to not be in on at least part of it.

Solomon definitely knows more than he's telling MC, as evidenced by the conversation he has with Nightbringer in season 1.

It seems to me that it's possible that whatever Barbatos knows and whatever Solomon knows is the same thing. Or at least there's probably some overlap in their knowledge.

All of that kind of leads me to a couple different theories about what it is that Barbatos could actually be upset about.

If Barbatos is Nightbringer, he could just be upset that Solomon is there at all. Solomon says that he came back to the past on his own, which means it wouldn't have been part of Nightbringer's plan for him to be there to begin with. If Barb is Nightbringer, he could just be upset that Solomon is messing with his plans.

I think it's also possible that someone else is masquerading as Solomon at least part of the time. We know that Michael at least can take on the entire appearance and personality of someone else. So that makes me think maybe Barbatos is aware that it isn't really Solomon and therefore isn't actually angry at Solomon at all, but at whoever is pretending to be him. This one admittedly feels like a bit of a stretch, but I also don't really think Barb is Nightbringer, either.

It could be that Barbatos is not Nightbringer, but is working with Nightbringer for some reason. And he's upset at Solomon for getting in the way?

It's just that Barbatos doesn't seem to be actively getting in Solomon's way. So even if Solomon being there wasn't part of the plan, it doesn't seem to be interfering. Which makes me think that this just isn't enough of a reason for Barbatos to be so angry that he's hurling insults.

I have other thoughts, but they all revolve around it being revealed that either Barbatos or Solomon (or both of them) are keeping massive secrets from MC. But I always end up writing myself in circles because I can't figure out the motives for either Barbatos or Solomon in any of these cases lol.

Mostly it's just a ~feeling~ that there's more to all this and that Barbatos just said the first thing that came to his mind so that he wouldn't have to tell MC the real reason.

[mooniechild]

E & D possible bpd disorder (part 1 D)

Okay so for those who don't know I'm a psychology student (yeah that's exactly what you read, now focus)so I gonna bring so reason why we can,and can not say Eric and Dylan may have had BPD, basically I gonna use their behavior, tapes transcriptions,drawing and their journal as a base for this.

Okay so for star BPD is a short for Boderline personality disorder,which is.....exactly a personality disorder wow.... unexpected,okay but what that means? different from a depression or a anxiety which is cause by yours hormones and can be treated with medicines Boderline is not cause by hormonal changes or brain chemistry like those two,which it means that medicate someone with BPD pretty much not gonna help in most of their behavior since is something on their personality and not on their chemicals.

Around 5 million people in the US have been diagnosed with PBD,okay now for Dylan and Eric and why most of the psychologist analysis of them could have been wrong even after years and years after.

1- one of the principal symptoms of BPD is the fear of a abandonment which Dylan demonstrate A LOT in his handwriting, especially after (apparently Zach Heckler) has found a girlfriend, Dylan felt that the world was conspiring against him trying to take the people he love away from him, Dylan saw Zach's behavior as him trying to abandone him after all they had lived together.

2-intense or unstable relationships,Dylan had a back and forth a couple times with Eric, asking his mom to backup him when Eric called and asking her to talk out loud with him so he could give a excuse to not be around Eric for a while,they both had a pretty intense relationship between them,BUT...let not forget Dylan dream girls,which him used to see them as a true love and then notice they didn't care about him at all (according to the man itself) Dylan was desperate to experience a true love like the ones in his fantasy and reading to his journal we can feel how left out of the whole relationship thing he felt,how he felt that he would never be loved back.

3- quick changes in self aspect, D used to have those low and high on his self esteem ever now and then,he would be 'Mr cutter' in a second and hate his nose,and feel complete godlike in another,he would have those up and downs most I think to protect himself in situations that he felt under pressure like around the jocks in school,or in the tape while he was trying to act tough in front of the camera

4- Impulsive and risky behavior is also a very common sign of Boderline,Dylan would scratch a locker, hack school computer with his friends to get the school lockers combo,he would break into a van and apparently even stole credit card passwords,he put himself in danger endless time(honor mention for him pointing a gun to his stomach while reloading it)

5-periods of paranoid,not let me get started it every time Dylan though people was conspiring against him,in a McDonald's as Sue mention on her book,Dylan even write about it on his journal

He mention a couple time felt that people was trying to fuck his life in a almost Godly way, trying to get his Alcyone away from him with all those human feeling's and thoughts and confusion,after a while Dylan started to see NBK as a way to get away from this reality to a whole new one with his love (he is a romantic let him be happy,let the kid dream)

6-Threats of suicide or self-injury, Dylan would very openly talk about his suicide thoughts on his journal,about blowing his head off with a pipe bomb or even shot a poor SOB person(someone is needing to understand his social class)

He discuss about his self harm and about how he felt depressed and with nothing left to live.

7-long feeling of emptiness,well well well look where we got,this sunshine boy is full of that,this feeling could be caused by triggers I think in Dylan case is most about his shyness,he was a very social anxious person, Devon once said he wouldn't go to her party cause some people he doesn't like would come over,so I guess most of his feeling of emptiness was caused by creating those paranoias that people was trying laughing at him.

8-Inappropriate, strong anger, losing temper often, being sarcastic or bitter, or physically fighting. Well I couldn't find anything about Dylan in fact physically fighting,I meant....Brooks on 4th grade doesn't count I guess,once he hit at his co-worker shoulder when she told him about a work Infraction....so yeah,he was know by many person as scary cause he would just be here and stare at them,or bounce at girls in the gym making them fell on the ground, calling Doddy a bitch,and being a asshole with his french teacher slamming doors and whatever at class,he would threat a special student Adam Kyler to kill him if he showed up for class,and he confess being mean to people at his journal,well at being sarcastic....

This men is my favorite sassy machine,he was know for being sarcastic,the whole voodoo thing on Devon birthday card, the way he act at the video he Brooks and Zach made for Mrs Caruthers.

The thing here is, boderline almost never comes alone most people ended up having a 2 or more mental health problems, boderline is more diagnosed on girl's and it didn't have a cure as I said before BUT have some great sources of treatment,the thing is psychology didn't came to a conclusion about how it develope BUT they think is a combination with genetic, environment,and social factors or huge trauma.

SO WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY IS: D in fact suffered with some sort of mental health problem,and analysing the case for 7 years now I guess we can pretty much see him trough a LOT of angles, searching in the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Health Disorders) a couple hundred times in the last 3 years I tried to comprehend Dylan actions and behavior,and I pretty much can see him getting a diagnostic of BPD,so this is the thread basically hope you guys enjoy,I gonna do a part 2 for Eric:)

[sopeacecheesecake]

The original post I made, reblogging Lily, and got blocked :D

Lily, you are so sweet to think I would waste any time from my own day to write an ask/opinion to you in this length. Why bother when you will only used it to twist the non-existing, one sided "conversation" you enjoy having on you blog sooo much? Not everyone is so fucking dumb to scream into the void and wait for an answer, you know?

Since the wording is nearly the same, the biggest difference being the uppercase/lowercase regarding a few words (and the poor rewrite at the beginning) I have two theories about what could have happened:

1) You copy and pasted my original anonymous ask that I send to @confused-rat for an other blog of mine (and they posted on jan. 27) and only changed a few things (but were too lazy to properly rephrase it, a silly move Lils, as someone with a degree, you should know how to do that properly).

2) One of your fans send it to you (to ask what you think? to get a reaction from you? hell knows only) and you want to play around with your strawman again, claiming the original writer or the text send it to you.

Why didn't you include the whole text, Lils? The link is here, but to make it as easy as possible:

Now to have a look at what you are you supposedly "got":

To point out how similar this is to the original ask I send to Rat (exact parts italicized and coloured)

"So, as a semi-professional bed-sharer and a sibling (a twin, even)... Lily, it is fucking weird that you make a married woman share the bed with her sister-in-law, when I suppose (what'-her-name was living somewhere before they got married) it wouldn't be necessary if they were not so fucking codependent on each other."

Lils, you can do better than this! You claim to be a professional writer, yet you don't have the creativity to properly paraphrase/re-write something? Come on!

"I have a fiancé now, and I would never bring up the idea of me, him and my twin sister sharing our bed if it wasn't the end of the world, where is no free couch/futon left - it would just feel... icky, and hella strange."

I don't like random uppercase letters in sentences - I understand they are there to give emphasis, but you could have at least change "hella" to something else (and also properly rewrite the text, again.)

"Especially, since in her story, this bed-sharing doesn't seem like a temporary thing. I don't want to be gross, or be to "sex-focused" but, when you marry someone, don't you want to be alone with them? Not just for sex, but cuddling together while watching a move, or maybe just making out in the morning - there is no way that would be healthy for a newly wed couple to never be alone in their most intimate space."

Lils, get more creative with the rewriting! At least out it in ChatGPT and tell it to "write a similar text" or something, because you nearly took all of the original text, and lazily changed a few things (in a academic setting, this would be called plagiarism, hon. At least try to put as much effort in your rewrote self-asks as I drunk uni student does with their essay.)

And to address the wildly personal "jabs" about me: I will not. I'm a anonymous blog, Lils. A stranger to you. To claim I have incestuous thoughts about my own sister, over something I wrote to a different person about a writing of yours, is just wild. Again, I'm not stupid enough to scream in the void, thinking I can get something through that thick head of yours - I was chating with a different person about a story you voluntary put on the internet to be read and thought about. I never once claimed, it has to apply to my own taste. I send an anonymous ask to Rat about the bed-sharing depicted in your story (mentioning my own personal experience of the topic as well) and how odd I found the reasons behind it in the story.

I not once stated anything personal about you, yet your answer back to the half-baked and plagiarized text, is to insult me and claim I must be projecting and being a whiny cunt.

Why don't you argue against my real points, mentioned in the original ask, and stop with the name calling, Lils?

"I don't know why my silly little fluff stories bother you so much. I don't know why it gets so deep under your fucking sin. Furthermore, I don't care. Sort that out in therapy."

It did not bother me, Lils. I did never wrote a bashing anon ask to you about your writing - I like to think that I have spend enough time on the internet to know the basics of online story reading and the etiquette about it. I would never go up to a upcoming author and spit something like this in their face. I was talking to a different blog about a story. This is all what happened.

Have some green tea, stop fuckin plagiarizing, take a few deep breaths and "sort that out in therapy".

With love,

Anon.

[amethystina]

Hello !!! I hope u r well and recovering 💘

Fir the ask game: 🤡❌️👀

Unfortunately, things are still pretty rough but I'm hanging in there :)

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

I'm not sure if there is such a line, to be honest. Mainly because most of the things I write aren't all that funny, but also because it takes a lot for me to laugh when it's my own writing. Because I already know the punchline before the joke's even started, so it's just not that exciting. If that makes sense?

That said, Yoon Sa Wol from Black Knight is an absolute hoot to write and there is one exchange in particular that definitely makes me want to cackle whenever I think about it. It's when he's talking to 4-1 (a coworker of his) and they accidentally stumble onto the subject of whether or not Sa Wol could have sex with 5-8 (the dude he is definitely interested in having sex with) and the following happens:

All things considered, it didn't seem like a bad idea at all. 4-1 didn't seem to agree. She gave him a flat look, as if the answer should be obvious. "He'd eat you for breakfast." Sa Wol paused for a beat but, really, the only thing he could think to say was: "I mean, wouldn't that be the whole point?" 4-1 let out a choked noise that sounded outright painful.

SA WOL, NO.

But also, kudos on being so goddamn shameless.

❌ What’s a trope you will never write?

I'm not sure if there is one? Because, sure, I'm not personally into mpreg or A/B/O but I can't say I'll never write them. Like, if someone gave me enough money to write those tropes, I probably would. We get money where we can in this economy xD

I think the closest I come to a complete "I refuse to write this" are the things I find triggering or just don't agree with on a moral level. So I'd have a hard time glorifying abuse, for example, or write something that involves incest or non-con between a romantic couple. The kind where transgressions are eventually forgiven or brushed aside because "they actually love them and it was just a mistake" and that kind of stuff.

There's a reason why I'm so determined to call out Yo Han's bullshit in my Devil Judge fics, for example, and why Moon Jo is such a lovesick simp in my Strangers From Hell fic. I find them to be incredibly fascinating as characters, but I admit I would never be able to write them doing something along those lines. They both skirt the line from time to time — which is sort of the point in some ways — but I try to criticise the behaviour rather than excuse or glorify it.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I kind of mentioned all of them when I did the WIP Tag Game not too long ago, so you can see what they are and read about them if you look at this tag right here!

But aside from that, I can say that I'm currently trying to edit and post chapter six of A New Dawn (Begins With Us), and, after that, I'm going to try and edit chapter 3 of The Right Set of Circumstances, and, after that, I... well, I don't know x'D I'll either try to edit Thou Shalt Not Covet or maybe I'll allow myself to write chapter 42 of Who Holds the Devil.

I'm kind of holding that chapter hostage right now since I HATE editing and would much rather write — it's just so much more fun. But if I only wrote and didn't edit, I would never post anything, so I kind of have to force myself to edit from time to time, too.

And it's extra annoying right now since I'm so feverish and that just makes editing ten times worse for some reason?

So yeah. I have a lot going on right now in terms of WIPs and it's kind of beginning to feel like a second job, not going to lie x'D

Thank you so much for the ask! :D

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

[s1rcus]

The Future Generations [5/?]

Rating: Mature

Words: 1635

Fandoms: Overwatch

Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela “Mercy” Ziegler  

Characters: Moira O'Deorain, Angela “Mercy” Ziegler  

Additional tags: Trans Angela “Mercy” Ziegler, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Kid Fic, Eventual Sex, Fake Science, POV Moira O'Deorain

Summary: Angela comes to Moira with an interesting proposal one late evening which makes the two start working closely together in secret.

Story below the cut or in AO3 here

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter

It wasn't going well. Lacroix kept getting worse and they hadn't made any progress. Moira was already dreading the moment he'd pass away. She knew Angela wouldn't take it well and she was the only one who could comfort her before Morrison would make it public to all personnel. She kept saving as much data and samples as was safe. If they couldn't figure this out by the time he'd pass, they'd need to at least figure out what was going on in case they came across it again.

Everything from the past few days seemed to be weighting on her. It was all she could think of as she was tossing and turning in bed. Normally this sort of thing wouldn't get to her but she was trying her best to take care of Angela while still keeping it professional. She desperately needed to talk to someone.

The problem was that the only people she ever even talked to were Reyes and Angela and both of them were out of the question. If only Neil was still here. Him and his daughter were the only family members she felt like she could talk with. Her niece! But she shouldn't, she really shouldn't. But she very well might be the only person she could talk to though and she needed to get some of this off her chest to be able to sleep. She was going to regret this eventually.

Moira picked up her phone and squinted at the light from the screen in the dark. It was late but her niece was in her early 20s and on her last year of university. She should still be awake even with it being a Tuesday night. She opened her call history and called one of the contacts in it. 

“Aunt Moira. Is something wrong?” came an answer not too long after. Her niece's accent was basically gone by now. Raina, Neil's wife, had moved with the children to England a couple years after Neil's passing. She had wanted to be closer to her own parents and not her husband's.

“I'm fine. Couldn't sleep so thought I'll call you and see if you happened to still be awake.”

“Writing an essay so yeah. Something bothering you if you can't sleep?”

“Okay fine. I really wanted to hear from you first but if you insist. And please don't tell your ma and especially not your nana.”

“Ooh! Secrets. Tell me! I desperately need the distraction,” her niece basically whined.

“Don't make me regret calling you instead of just talking to a picture of your da.”

“That's sad. But I won't tell them, promise. Now, what is it?”

“I'm having a baby.”

“Wait, what? But I thought–”

“Yes, still very much single and gay. Coworker wanted a child and I decided to help her.”

“This coworker wouldn't happen to be Ziegler?”

“I–. How'd you know?”

“Like you talk to anyone but Ziegler and Reyes at base. And I doubt Reyes is wanting a child. And you said she. Narrowed it down to a very short list.”

“This especially has to stay as a secret. No-one can know that their precious Mercy is with a child.”

“I get it. Like anything Overwatch related you tell me. Keep it to myself and never mention it again if not prompted by you. One thing though, how?”

“How what?”

“How did you help her? It's not like you could get her pregnant.”

“Oh, yeah that. I gave her some of my eggs. I'm not going to tell any of her personal information to you so I won't get to the reasons why,” Moira explained. “In any case. Ziegler and I are having a child and she basically asked me to co-parent with her, but I don't know what I want. And Overwatch put us in this project together so I need to constantly listen to her complaints now.”

“So I see you've done nothing about that crush.”

“There's no such thing. I just can't be around her constantly while not knowing what I want and this project is about to collapse and it's going to crush her and I'll need to be there for her. God, what have I gotten myself into?”

“Hey. Angela trusts you even though she constantly questions your morals. So if you're sure it's going to collapse just try your best to prevent it and be ready to comfort her when it eventually does. That's pretty much all you can do.”

“Yeah. Thanks kid. Now how's your final year going? Met anyone cute lately?”

“Not you too,” her niece groaned.

“I know what uni life is like. I did live it.”

“Sure. You definitely weren't just a big nerd who stayed inside after it got dark.”

“No need to be that rude. I'll tell you I had a very normal university years. Sure I had a reputation of a nerd but I did date and even went out to parties,” Moira told her. “Well if you don't want to talk about that, what's this essay about that's got you so stumped…”

They talked a while longer and then wished their good night's to each other. Moira felt surprisingly way more calm over the whole situation after the conversation. She couldn't prevent the inevitable but she could be ready for it to help Angela navigate through it when it would happen.

-------

Moira ended up sleeping decently even if a little less than she was used to. It had been dreamless, which she kinda preferred. She did not need her consciousness telling her things she didn't want to hear or see while she was trying to rest.

She went through her morning routine as normal. Heading straight to the bathroom, brushing her teeth, combing through her hair and putting on the tiniest bit of cologne (it was more out of a habit than anything. She liked the smell but acknowledged that it wasn't for everyone and especially now working so closely with other people she tried to be vary with it. And it wasn't like she was trying to smell good for anyone else but herself.) Then she moved out of the bathroom and put on the clothes she'd picked up the night before before moving to the door. She grabbed an apple on the way as she passed her kitchenette. Lastly she pulled on her lab coat before leaving her room, making sure the door locked behind her.

She ate the apple as she weaved through the watchpoint towards the lab. Swiping herself in she was met with the empty lab. It was usually how it was. She arrived first. Angela was either with Lacroix and would arrive in 15 or so minutes or she had decided to go get proper breakfast at the canteen with her friends and would arrive within the next hour. In either case Moira moved to the coffee maker and brewed herself a cup before going to her table and getting back to work.

About half an hour later Angela made her way in. She looked like she'd barely slept. Moira was pretty sure she's never seen her this unkept. Moira looked at her quizzically and Angela basically beelined straight for the coffee. As she filled her mug she spoke in a quiet and defeated voice.

“He stopped breathing on his own last night. We had to put him on a ventilator. There's very minimal brain activity left. We only have a couple days left before I'm sure I need to announce him brain dead.”

Fuck. She knew this was going to happen but she wanted to believe they'd have more time. When Angela turns around Moira can see the unshed tears she's trying to hold back. Against her better judgement Moira rose from her seat and made her way to Angela and pulled her into a hug. Angela buried her face into her shoulder and started to quietly cry. Moira was internally panicking. She knew she would. It wasn't like she comforted people on the regular. Eventually she started to rub Angela's back, hoping the crying would subside. And it did, after a while. 

Angela took some calming deep breaths and with every exhale Moira felt a puff of air on her neck. After a while Angela straightened back up and wiped her eyes with a sleeve of her lab coat.

“Thank you,” Angela said. Her voice sounded a little rough and she cleared her throat before continuing, “also sorry for crying on you. The smell of your cologne helps me calm down. Sorry, that probably sounded really weird. But it's why I liked coming over to your lab to vent whenever I had a bad day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean it's very faint, barely noticeable to be honest, but it's a prominent smell in your lab. I actually figured out the source was your cologne when you did the first ultrasound. I hadn't really been close enough to smell it before that.”

“I try to respect those who are scent sensitive and wear very little when around the watchpoint,” Moira tried to explain. “If I'm going out and actually putting effort on how I look, which is very rare, I'll put on a bit more.”

“I guess I'll need to take you out then,” Angela stated and hastily added, “to smell it properly and see you dressed all nicely.”

Angela slightly grimaced after that. She definitely didn't mean to add that. Moira wanted to smile but felt like it was inappropriate.

“What, my work attire isn't doing it for you?”

“I never said that,” Angela said with a smirk and then turned to pick the forgotten coffee mug before heading to her desk to continue work.

Good. Angela was feeling better. Moira was feeling again like she had a handle on things.

[acourtofthought]

I'm out of the fandom, maybe a year because of college.

Will Acotar 5 happen or not?

I feel like Sarah has already been faster than that, and will end up forgotten if her release rate is 3 years for the next one.

I don't understand anything anymore, but now I'm seeing some movements, saying that articles saying it's Elriel and that it doesn't make sense for people to believe in random articles or pages without being in the author's own voice.

I still hope Sarah doesn't feel the pressure and surrenders those who I heard are threatening her family.

Do you think the delay could also be because of someone wanting to force her to write her couple? Or did she end up with some block and is slower?

NOTE: I still maintain Elucien and Gwrinriel endgame.

I feel strongly that the delay in the announcement is for two big reasons. The first being because they switched printers and the second because that also coincided with the 10 year anniversary of the first ACOTAR book. I think it would make a lot of sense from a marketing standpoint to announce the next book the same year they're celebrating the start of it all. Sarah is big enough that she doesn't need to be forced into writing a pairing that she doesn't support. Authors can't typically write something on a whim because someone tells them too unless it's something they can feel. These characters and stories are her vision and she's the reason she's a multi-millionaire at this point. She didn't need fans to dictate who ended up with who then and she definitely doesn't now. In fact, I'd say she's proven time and again she doesn't care what fans think since she did not write Aelin and Chaol getting back together and then she wrote Chaol having his own story when readers wanted her to pick up with where she left off EOS. She's even said it herself, her characters guide her which is why she initially had a different love interest for Bryce, why she initially thought Nesta would be with Lucien until Elain took them both by surprise, why Aelin was initially going to be with Dorian until she was contracted for TOG and then she realized Rowan was the one Aelin would never leave if Sam were still alive. As far as the random articles, I would definitely not believe they have insider knowledge. It's not a big secret that there's been a major ship war in the fandom since ACOWAR so any journalist could say "the next book could be E/riel" and they wouldn't be wrong for that speculation. Of course it could be, when you have two characters nearly kiss it's natural to think "maybe Sarah is headed in that direction!" Sarah is either pulling the same kind of setup that she did with Feyre from book 1 to 2, where the less obvious love interest will actually be the endgame love interest (Elucien) or she won't but both sides have a reason to think their ship is happening. But they don't know anything more than you or I do. In fact, I'd say some know less the way some articles are written because many have had inaccuracies. Nobody outside of Sarah and what I'm guessing is a select few know who the next book is about and those select few are most likely bound by a very heavy NDA. Since most people want to keep their jobs and possible friendship with Sarah, I doubt anyone is going to ruin that by writing articles / blogs / tweets, etc. on who the next book is.