#Ao3 series

[baronessvonglitter]

It's the summer before college and you're sure you have your life figured out.. then you meet your new neighbor, single (hunky) dad Joel Miller...

SERIES MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

🥀= angst | 🫧= fluff | 🤍= friendship | 💘= love/relationship

💞 = mutual pining | 🔥= smut | 🚩= TW | 💥= violence

🍒 Chapter 1: Austin 🤍

🍒 Chapter 2: Coffee & Garth Brooks 🤍💞

🍒 Chapter 3: Chicken Fight 🤍💞🔥

🍒 Chapter 4: Ride Along 💞

🍒 Chapter 5: The Party & the Long Walk Home 🥀🤍🔥🚩

🍒 Chapter 6: Daddy Issues & Dads With Issues 🫧💞

🍒 Chapter 7: Swimming in Stars 🔥

🍒 Chapter 8: Fooled Around and Fell in Love 🫧💘🔥

🍒 Chapter 9: First Time for Everything 🫧💘🔥

🍒 Chapter 10: Secrets & Lies 🫧💘🔥

🍒 Chapter 11: I Was Made for Lovin' You 💘🔥

🍒 Chapter 12: Just Like Heaven 💘🔥

🍒 Chapter 13: Rough Ride 💘🔥🚩💥

🍒 Chapter 14: 1984 🫧

🍒 Chapter 15: Shameless 💘🔥

🍒 Chapter 16: The Mother Wound 🥀💘🔥💥

🍒 Chapter 17: What is and What Should Never Be 🥀💘🔥💥

🍒 Chapter 18: I Wanted it to Be You

🍒 Chapter 19: Hungry Heart

🍒 Chapter 20: Baby Loves Me

[natandwandaseries]

We need Spotify wrapped but for fanfiction

[hjbender]

*Implying that the total number of works will only ever be two.

[roguegona]

I think it's time to finish the story of these two.

Art, courtesy of @giisip 🫶🏼

[nana-mizu-shiki]

Barbs is God. Thats it. No questions asked.

Tim is just an unhinged feral gremlin. It's not that complicated Jason.

As I stated prior. Unhinged feral gremlin child thing.

[sicktember]

Because I’m curious and trying to get my feet wet with AO3, are we able to post one story in the sicktember archive (or however it gets categorized) and every day be a new chapter? Or should we post multiple stories individually? What works best? (Im still getting used to AO3 and these kind of events)

Everyone has their own preferences on how they like to post their event content on AO3.

One continuous fic focusing on one (or more) prompts per chapter

A book of one-shots (One fic where each chapter is a different story)

A series (Several individually posted fics grouped together)

Individually posted fics not linked by a series

We- the mods- are fans of using a 'series.' In our opinion, it makes tagging easier/more streamlined. Which, in turn, makes it easier for readers to find the exact story they are looking for. Especially if they forget to bookmark it and have to go searching for it (days, weeks, YEARS) later!!

But feel free to do what works best for you! There are no rules about how you post!

Brief instructions on how to create a series below:

To create a series, you would look at the 'associations' section of the 'post a new fic' form. There, you will see the option to select an existing series or create a new one. This section is also where you would type in 'Sicktember_2024' if you wanted to add your fic to the collection.

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Dream A Little Dream of Me fic series (Good Omens) part 4: “Le Chant du Rossignol (Song of the Nightingale)”

Final part to my Good Omens fic series is live! If you’ve read it thus far I just wanted to say thank you and I hope you enjoy the finale :)

Rating: T (mind the tags!!!)

Here’s a short snippet of it:

It was another nice day at last. A day of perfect weather, and the sounds of a bustling city full of people who went about that day generally feeling good. A day without anxiety, the feeling that everything that made this life worth living could be ripped away again at any moment. Such anxiety was simply a fundamental part of who Aziraphale was, but for the first time, something felt different.

Overtime, they fell back into their routine that they hadn’t known since before Gabriel had shown up at the shop, consequently uprooting their entire lives as one thing led to another. A routine that they had adopted after Armage-didn’t where, for four glorious years, Crowley would arrive at the bookshop in the morning with his six shots of espresso in a large cup and a cup of English breakfast tea for the angel, perhaps they’d dine at The Ritz later on, they might eventually wander down to the park to watch the ducks in the afternoon, then the day would end with the two of them sat at a table that Aziraphale had set (miraculously, with a quick snap of the fingers), talking over a bottle of wine until the very late hours into the night. Aziraphale considered this way of life to be rather perfect.

In the days following Aziraphale’s return to this plane of existence, the two of them welcomed back this routine with open arms. The sun was just rising over the bookshop’s skylight when Crowley backed in through the door, cups of coffee and tea respectively in hand. Aziraphale, a bright smile across his face, beamed as he approached the demon and grabbed one of the cups from his hands.

“Oh- angel, I think that’s the-”

Aziraphale’s face contorted as the bitter taste of piping hot pure espresso with nothing else to dilute it attacked his tongue, nearly spitting out the vile liquid. Crowley laughed.

“I think that’s mine,” he said.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh at himself, wiping his mouth with the napkin that had been wrapped around the cup.

“Perhaps those cups shouldn’t be quite so identical,”

The sound of their laughter together filled the air over the gramophone playing some quiet classical music, just how Aziraphale liked it in the morning. This morning, it was a recording of Chopin’s Étude Op. 10, No. 3 in E major. A hopeful piece, one littered with such wistful romanticism that Chopin himself had claimed he’d never written another melody so beautiful. It had reminded him of his homeland, and such a morning had gotten Aziraphale thinking that his home was never in Heaven, but rather anywhere that Crowley could be found right at his side.

Crowley was his home.

The coffee cup slipped through his fingers and toppled over onto the floor, to which Crowley did protest, but such contempt couldn’t last long before Aziraphale’s hands had cupped his face and their lips had connected. Passionately, desperately, they kissed as if it was the last time they ever could. Aziraphale’s tea was long gone as well, though the mess of spilled coffee and tea mixing at their feet was merely an afterthought as Crowley leaned the angel up against a nearby bookshelf, deepening the kiss. The angel relished in this moment of feeling wanted, a feeling he certainly wasn’t used to until he felt Crowley’s hair between his fingers and that same demon’s arms snugly wrapped around him with the same fervor.

-

read the rest here

And here’s a link to all of the parts in order:

[mercy-love-joy]

Bloody Deber Cookie

(TW: blood)

Bloody Deber Cookie (once formly known as Pure Vanilla Cookie) was once a healthy and happy cookie. Until he was "blessed" with the Soul Jam of Truth. Once the Soul Jam has settled into his dough, it released an illness that would ruin the world.

Coughing blood and killing everyone with the Bleeding Plague, the once kind and loving king now wanders the ruined world. Searching for a cure that was impossible to find. So he went to the Millennial Tree in hopes of getting help

But from the crown of antlers on his head shows that he was unable to stop the plague.

Now dead, the cookie has been dead for four eons, and with his emotional rubber duck, he tries to heal himself but there is something with him...

Who are they? And why are they haunting the healer who already is tortured by the voices of the victims to the Bleeding Plague?

The Voice of Truth still remains within Bloody Deber Cookie despite the shattering of the Soul Jam. Perhaps Truth has more to explain for Bloody Deber Cookie's endless torture for something he didn't do...

The Shadow of the Bleeding Plague. It haunts and taunts Bloody Deber Cookie and the Voice of Truth. It is the reason for why Millennial Tree Cookie's horns are upon the blonde's head and why the tree cookie has no head. This shadow tortures the healer with a wicked smile and it changes the shattered pieces of the Soul Jam to become the tirade of voices who yell and torture the cookie so he cannot sleep.

[geekwithacuriousmind]

My Kafhime "If You Could Be a Constellation" Universe Fics in Order

After the list of my favorite Kafhime fics got tons of attention and love, I decided to make another list with my own Kafhime Universe fics.

Make sure you give it a read! I spent a lot of time reading up lore to make it as close to canon as I could :)

The series is rated Mature.

Chromatica

Freedom was a word Kafka thought she knew well. After all, everything was permitted as long as she performed her duties. It sounded binding, but comparing it to the rest of the people on Pteruges-V— Kafka was allowed to do more than what they did. 

Then again, could that be called freedom? 

It bothered Kafka more than what it should. 

But what else was she supposed to do? What else was out there apart from being a Devil Hunter? 

Something's Wrong With Stelle

"Kafka," Stelle whispered with a smile. "You're here." 

"Of course I am, my little Trailblazer," Kafka said softly. 

"Kafka," March huffed, her reaction making Kafka smile. 

"It's a pleasure to see you too," Kafka teased her. 

Stelle tried to chuckle at the interaction, coughing instead because of the illness. 

As she did, she saw both Kafka and Himeko take a step towards her. 

The sight made her heart flutter. 

Roses from the South

Extravagant. Flamboyant. Over the top. Profligate to the point of it having been planned that way-- while Himeko had expected The Family’s annual Harmony Banquet to spare no expense, this felt a little too over the top. 

When she accepted their invitation out of curiosity and fascination, Himeko had been prepared to spend the evening explaining to fellow guests and The Family about the Astral Express and its mission. 

Instead, she was flabbergasted when she arrived at the Banquet and realized that the event had a theme attached to it.  

A masquerade.

breathin

Kafka had never felt as sickened as she did. The fear was taking hold of her, making her do and say the wrong things. She wasn’t acting rationally. After all, the best they could do was run away and try to form another plan. 

But not at the expense of Stelle. 

Not at the cost of her daughter’s life. 

She had given her away once; she would not do it again. 

[bunny-is-cute]

I made a series on AO3 that will contain the short stories that I write on the @maternity-morningstar blog!

So Far it has “Lil Pumpkin Patch” and “Struggle Bug” on it.

I hope it’s easier for everyone to read this whenever you want!

[batrogers]

So -- barring the idea I have for the Doll % Runs -- my Doll fic series is finally complete, as I'd first imagined it to be.

Series Summary:

A series in which, upon leaving the Dollmaker she made a very generous gift to Hyrule: one doll for each of his friends, with the caveat he must be the one holding it for it to activate, and he must be near them. He hopes he never has to use one. Here are all the times he might be forced to explain.

Ratings range from T to E.

Universally Temporary Major Character Death fics, with frequent Graphic Depictions of Violence (although some deaths are less graphic, less violent, or a different kind of violent.)

Fun with some stats, because I wanted to collect them for me:

Brief summary: most fics in the series hover around 1:6 or 1:7 ratio, probably because of the self-selection by means of being Linked Universe fics (which often average closer to a 1:10 ratio) and being self-selecting by means of the MCD/Graphic Violence archive warnings and similar tags (eg. beheading, eaten alive, etc.)

The highest word count is Dog Days, at 4,070 words.

The lowest word count is Perfection, at 1,950 words.

The first fic ("The Dollmaker" was published in October last year, and the most recent was finished twelve hours ago (September 3rd).

More detail about ratios and hits and commentary on why I think that is under the cut. But thank you all who have enjoyed this series!

The Dollmaker is the oldest fic in the series, published Oct 18th, 2023. It's at a 1:8 kudos-to-hits ratio, with over 700 hits.

Dark Despair's Corroding Hand (Time's doll fic) is next, published Apr 8, 2024, and is at a 1:7 kudos-to-hits ratio, with over 300 hits (but it has some interesting tags and an E rating, so can't blame y'all.)

Where is my Harmony (Legend's doll fic) was published Jun 13, and is at a 1:6 ratio, and is a few more hits over 300 than Dark Despair -- but this one's only rated M and much less graphic.

Dog Days (Twilight's doll fic) was published Father's Day (Jun 16th) because I'm an asshole. It has a 1:8 kudos ratio and barely over 300 hits, probably because it's intensely political and not the kind of Twilight-and-Time vibe most of the fandom likes.

It Hungers Still (Wind's doll fic) was published July 1st, and is at a 1:6 ratio because some tags are VERY self-selecting for an audience and oh boy is this one. It's also rated E. Over 200 hits.

Good Is Not Nice (Warriors' doll fic) was also published July 1st, and is at a (slightly higher = 5.6 vs 5.9) 1:6 kudos ratio too because tbh these two fics -- for all the ratings lower -- are equally violent in very different ways.

Hidden Ruin (Sky's doll fic) was published July 11th, and is at a 1:6 ratio too. It has just under 200 hits.

Perfection (Wild's doll fic) was published July 16th, and is at a 1:9 ratio, proving that fandom favouritism is not always in a story's favour LOL. Just over 400 hits, which wildly outpaces the others and yet that has likely pushed down the ratio in itself.

Blue and White and Gone (Four's doll fic) was published Jul 30th, and is at a 1:7 ratio, with just under 200 hits. (Which makes sense given how recent these last are.)

And, published twelve hours ago, Will You Be There (Hyrule's doll fic) is at a 1:5 ratio and 60 hits.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 5 🍒 "The Party & the Long Walk Home"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,853

Summary: Sarah tags along with you at a party, ending in a confession you never expected.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, underage drinking (reader --Sarah takes a small sip), drug use 🌿(reader), big ol' age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), kissing, some dry humping, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail and wears a skirt, reader's race not mentioned, no use of y/n

Series Masterlist

"I can't wait to go to parties," Sarah says as she leafs through a pile of clothes on your bed. You've gone through everything in your closet and can't find anything to wear. While you're frustrated, Sarah finds it fascinating. She doesn't have an older sister or even any close cousins to experience this with. Having no younger sisters yourself, you are pleased that she's absorbed in the intricacies of this level of life.

"You'll be going to parties soon enough," you tell her, watching with a sisterly care as she puts outfits together with her own style in mind. "Some of this stuff is kinda small for me now. You can have them if you want," you offer a couple of tanks tops and shorts, recalling the dates you'd gone on in those clothes, the trips to Astroworld, weekends in Galveston. You don't know when you'll do any of those things again, or if you'll have someone to do them with. Joel still looms large in your mind, your flirtatious teasing from earlier today still fresh on your mind. You want to see him again, but you're not sure how to instigate such a plan, but being neighbors is an advantage.

Then she asks exactly what you think she's going to ask: "Can I go with you?"

You shake your head. "Absolutely not. Your dad would kill me."

Sarah shrugs. "He doesn't have to know."

"Trust me, he'll know. Plus it's gonna be an older crowd. I don't think it would be safe for you."

Sarah's quiet, and when you look at her you see vexation in her expression. "Your dad trusts me with you," you explain. "And he's the last person I want mad at me."

"Do you like him or something?" Sarah asks suddenly, accusatorily.

You freeze while brushing your hair, keeping your eyes on the mirror at your vanity. "What, like.. what do you mean?"

"You like him. I'm not stupid. The pool party," she says, starting to count on her fingers. "You're always coming around, and when you look at him there's this stupid little grin on your face and you blush.. you have a crush on my dad and it's so weird."

You don't know what to say. In fact she's more astute than you give her credit for. "Sarah, I--"

"It's okay," she cuts you off with a wave of her hand. "I mean, most of my friends do. Have a crush on him, I mean. I'm used to it by now. And he doesn't look at my friends the way he looks at you."

Your heart both stills and pounds, the sound growing louder in your ears. "What do you mean?" You realize you're starting to sound like a broken record.

Sarah looks like she's said something she hasn't meant to. "Forget it. It's weird."

"It's not weird," you try to convince her.

"It is! I mean, I catch him staring at you sometimes, even just staring at your house like he's waiting for you to come out."

You try to keep your expression neutral, but you feel your face blush. "You're probably imagining it," you tell her to try to make her feel better.

She just shakes her head. "Maybe.. how would you feel if your father liked your best friend?"

"I haven't seen him since I was about your age, so I wouldn't know."

She gets quiet, playing with the little fairy lights that hang on your headboard. You get the feeling that she understands, in some way, what it's like when a parent goes away.

"We don't have to talk about your dad," you tell her. "I guarantee he's not interested in me that way. He probably thinks I'm way too young for him anyway." But now you're tempted to ask if he talks about you, mentions you in even the most mundane of conversations. You wish you could see yourself through his eyes, as cliche as it sounds.

Sarah watches you from the corner of her eye, and you hate to wonder what she's thinking, because maybe she's being protective of her father. Wouldn't you be? "This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had," she mutters.

This wrenches a little chuckle from you. "Yeah, me too."

She goes quiet again and you wonder just how deeply this unsettles her, because if it's not a big deal then why does it seem to dominate the room?

"I think he's kinda cute," you admit, as if that's all you have thought of him, as if he's an afterthought to everything else in your life.

A little smile appears, lifting the corners of Sarah's face. "Ew."

You finally decide on a belted denim mini-skirt and a baby blue halter top. You're a little out of your comfort zone of your usual graphic tee and cutoff shorts, but you also want to make a good impression. And, if Joel just happens to see me dressed up, that wouldn't be so bad. You clasp on a silver charm bracelet and swipe on a shimmery pink nail polish, Your hair is styled up, a casual ponytail with soft tendrils framing your face. Sarah helps you put this look together, and in this you have reset your bond of friendship.

You watch movies together at her place, hoping that Sarah will fall asleep first so you can leave without feeling guilty. The only other option is taking her with you to the party and, well, that's not really an option. You're halfway through watching The Blair Witch Project when Sarah goes upstairs. You assume she's getting ready for bed, and when the time Hailey has texts you she's here to pick you up, you get ready to leave, and Sarah comes out after you. She's dressed up similarly to you, looking older, more mature.

"What are you doing?" you ask at the same time she says, "I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are!" You're shocked that she would even think of coming along. "I already told you no."

Hailey honks her horn as you and Sarah argue on the porch.

"Please! Just for a little bit! My dad's gonna be out all night, he's never gonna know! Please," Sarah begs.

You feel bad for even considering it. But you can't force her back inside. She's not a child, and you remember being her age. The party is just a few blocks away, and you can get a ride back. You'll think of something, you're sure.

"One hour, no more," you say sternly, and let her in the car with you.

At Hailey's, the music greets you first, loud, booming, making everything around you alive. Inside is full of people talking, laughing, dancing, drinking from beer bottles or red solo cups. It's old hat to you, but Sarah is fascinated, sticking by your side. "Just stay with me," you tell her anyway.

You lose Hailey, who joins another group doing shots in the dining room, and make yourselves at home in the kitchen, picking over the rest of Hailey's birthday cake. You consider this is the safest place for her. "It's kind of like what you see in the movies," she says, eyeing the bottles of alcohol and mixers on the counter.

You smile and pour her a soda. "Just pretend there's already alcohol in this and nobody will try to coerce you into drinking," you smirk. You pour one for yourself, and manage to sneak in a little rum when she's not looking.

The crowd is mostly people from Starbucks, and a few older people you feel are too sketchy for you and Sarah to be around. "I thought you said we could be here for an hour. Can we at least walk around?" she asks, as if reading your mind.

"Sarah, I really don't think--"

"Come on! This is probably the only party I'll ever get to go to," she whines, which is so unlike her.

"All right, fine," you pour yourself a little more rum and coke, and bring her to the garage where there's a game of beer pong going on, mostly guys cheering and cursing. You roll your eyes. "Interesting enough for you?" you playfully elbow her. "Just think: this is what I have to look forward to for the next four years." You bring her out to the backyard where most of the action is. Colored LED lights hang in canopy fashion between the trees, a large trampoline sits, empty, in the corner. "Jump?" you suggest to Sarah. She nods eagerly and you get on, downing your drinks and leaving the empty cups on the ground. You jump gingerly at first, testing the endurance of the trampoline, then you both start jumping, laughing, falling down, getting back up. You can't remember the last time you jumped on a trampoline. Your mother was always overprotective, so you never owned anything that could be counted as fun because she worried you'd get hurt. And now you revel in this feeling, this little rush of freedom. Nobody knows where you are, nobody has tabs on you, and you're pretty sure if you jump high enough you might just fly up to the stars..

Then it's interrupted when a couple of guys come up through the netting and watch you and her. Not that you're unfriendly, but you do have Sarah to look out for. "Can we join you?"

Sarah looks to you and you see the hope in her eyes. "Sure," you say, with an edge of wariness to your voice.

You stop jumping as they climb in, and when they sit, so does Sarah. You sigh and join them. It's still a little unsteady when one of you moves, making little bouncy waves on the trampoline. One of the guys pulls out a joint from his shirt pocket and lights it up, passing it to his friend after taking a puff. You look nervously towards Sarah. This is probably the best time to leave. "She can't," you tell them. "She's on probation. She has a parole officer and everything." It's a little white lie, and one you hope will A.) get them to leave her alone and B.) make her feel kind of cool with an older crowd.

"What about you?" The second guy asks, handing you the joint.

Just once, it's not like I haven't done this before.

Shrugging, you take it and inhale deeply, coughing a little as you exhale and pass it back to the first guy.

"Y'all new around here?" they ask of you and Sarah.

"We're here for the weekend," you lie confidently. "We're from LA."

"No shit? Cali babes. What are your names?"

"Shayla," Sarah says, owning it. "And this is my sister Diamond."

You try not to laugh. The alcohol and the weed are already getting to you. "Yeah. Same mom, different dads."

The guys give one another a look, and you don't know if they're buying your story or just laughing at it. "I'm Mike and this is Emilio," they introduce themselves.

You pass the joint between the three of you until it's done, and Mike brings out some apple brandy in a brown paper bag. This time you don't bat an eye when Sarah grabs the bottle after your sip, and you burst with laughter as she takes a drink and coughs, dismissing her future turns.

Not long after, you're all laying on the trampoline, staring up at the night sky. The stars are numerous, like diamonds sprinkled upon dark velvet. Mike and Emilio are nice, not flirtatious, and respect the boundaries you've put up from the get-go. There's a nice, buzzy feeling in your brain and in your heart. Next to you, Sarah reaches her hand out and you hold it.

"It's been more than an hour." Her voice sounds sleepy.

"Hmm? Oh shit." You pull out your phone and look at the time. "It's almost midnight, Cinderella. Time to leave the ball." Your voice sounds odd, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears as you get up. The bouncy movements of the trampoline make you dizzy. "Ready?" you ask her.

There's a commotion from within the house, and people are rushing outside to the patio. "Cops!" someone shouts, and you and the others are alert. "Shit! We've gotta get out of here," you tell Sarah. The guys are already gone, having leapt over the fence and into a neighbor's yard.

You and Sarah follow some people going through a door in the fence, it leads to a darkened area near the highway. Beyond there are lights for hotels, gas stations, and fast food restaurants. "It's too dangerous," you tell Sarah. But can you go back? You take a right, going into the grassy area beneath an underpass, and hear footsteps following you. You know it's not the cops but in your paranoid state you can't be sure. Your grip on Sarah's hand remains tight.

A few of the partygoers, including yourselves, split up, some going towards the lighted areas, but your neighborhood is the other way. It's dark, little traffic, but that doesn't mean it's safe. You follow the highway until it reaches an exit into a more residential area. In your inebriated state you focus harder on recognizing the landmarks. There's a motel, and an all-night restaurant next adjacent. "This way," you tell Sarah, and walk together, trying to stay under the streetlights and out of the shadows. You're out of danger of being caught or arrested, but you still have to make it home. "Shayla and Diamond?" you repeat, recalling the names Sarah had given yourselves. "You had to give us the most stripper-like names, huh?"

Sarah grins. "If you're gonna give fake names, they'd better be good ones."

You pass a few businesses and come up on a bar, with loud rock music blasting as people went in or out. Not a safe place, so you hurry, even though your feet hurt and you desperately just want to sit and take a rest. The world is spinning and you feel like you might fall off. "We make a right here, and then we're just a few blocks from home," you sigh, already dreaming of falling face-first onto your comfortable bed.

"I'm sorry I was such trouble," Sarah says quietly as you enter the dark neighborhood. Dogs bark in the distance, crickets chirp loudly. "I just wanted to go out for some fun.."

"Some fun we had. Party got busted, we almost got in trouble. Your dad would have had a heart attack if he'd had to come get you from the police station."

"Promise you won't tell him?" Sarah's eyes are wide, innocent in the light of the moon.

"Promise," you say, with as much of a smile as your tipsy/high/tired self can give.

You've spoken too soon.

Behind you a truck flashes its high beams and you both turn. You're walking on the sidewalk, so there's no reason for anyone to do that. You both ignore it but he speeds up to catch up with you.

"What the hell's your problem, asshole?" you shout, freezing when you see the driver.

It's Joel.

And he looks pissed as hell.

Your brain races to think of something to say, but in an instant he reaches over to unlock the passenger door. "Get in," he commands, and Sarah dutifully gets in first, followed by you. The bench seats allow you to sit all together, and even before you've closed the door behind you, Joel takes off. It's dead quiet until he speaks.

"What the hell were you both doin' out this late?" His question is aimed at you. You're the adult. You should know better.

Sarah cuts in. "It's my fault, Dad. I made her take me to this party," she says.

"Bullshit! You have no business bein' at a party this late, dressed like a-- like a slut," he utters this last line with a glance in your direction and you want to crawl into the earth. You pull up your halter top and put your arms over your thighs to cover yourself from his accusatory gaze.

"Dad, you have no right to say that!" Sarah sticks up for the both of you.

"You're my daughter and I won't have you puttin' yourself at risk like this. Now tell me the truth: where were you? Did you drink? God damn it, did you do anything else?"

"She didn't," you cut in. It's a lie, because Sarah had that one experimental sip of brandy, but you don't feel bad about this little white lie. "She was safe with me the whole time. The party got busted and we made a run for it. That's the truth."

Joel shakes his head. "I never expected this, not from you."

You feel shame like a poison in your veins. You want to cry.

The three of you remain quiet the rest of the ride home. Joel's anger, his disappointment, weighs down the air, makes the atmosphere heavy. You feel nauseous.

He pulls up to his own driveway. "Sarah, go inside. Wait for me in the living room. We're gonna have a long talk,"

Sarah, with a despondent look in your direction, gets out as you scoot over. She goes inside the house and you make your way out too until Joel calls you back.

"Me and you ain't done."

Your heart is banging in your chest and you get back in. You've never dealt well with getting in trouble. For the most part you've walked a straight line, maybe done a few things you shouldn't have, but never have you gotten someone else in trouble with you.

"I'm sorry," you whisper when he takes forever to talk.

"I thought I knew you better. Thought you had a good head on your shoulders." Joel's voice expresses his disappointment, tinged with anger.

"It was a mistake. It won't happen ever again. I--" you shake your head, on the verge of tears.

He sees you start to cry and he sighs, trying to collect himself. "Don't cry. It's just.. you know why I'm real fuckin' mad, don't ya?"

You nod. There's hope in your chest that you'll be let off the hook. But you never can tell with Joel.

"I'd be mad too. You have every right to be mad. Just.. don't be mad at Sarah. Take it out on me." You're leaning close to him, your eyes begging for leniency. "Leave her out of it, she's a kid. There were many ways out of this and I didn't take any of them. It's my fault alone, and I'm sorry."

He's looking down at his lap, his profile lit up by the streetlight that stands between your house and his. "Joel?.." Something in you is brave when you scoot closer to him, and it all becomes a blur as you gently turn him to face you, and your lips touch his cheek.

His beard is a little rough, and feels exactly as you'd imagined it would beneath your kiss. You feel him tremble, and as you pull away his eyes open to take in the sight of you. He whispers your name as he cups your face in his hands, all his anger gone, replaced with something new. His breath shudders as he moves his touch to your arms, your sides, fingertips lightly skimming over the bare skin between your top and your skirt. You make a sound of surprise and need, and when he hears it he brings your lips to his in a crashing kiss.

Your heart throbs as you eagerly lean into his kiss, and he grabs your waist, pinning you to straddle his lap. His tongue explores your mouth as he cups the back of your head. He tastes like beer and cigarettes, and when you suck on his tongue he emits a deep groan, shifting his hips upward against you so you can feel that he wants you. You rub yourself against the hardness in his jeans, giving little gasps, searching for a way to alleviate the ache that's built up inside you. He grabs your ass as you move, guiding you over him, lifting your skirt until his fingers find the edge of your panties.

It's going to happen! It's finally going to happen! Your brain rejoices, but just as you're about to tell him you want this, he pulls away, gently removing you from his lap. He leans back in his seat, hands covering his eyes, taking deep breaths.

"Joel, what's wrong?" you ask in a small voice.

"FUCK!" his hand slams the steering wheel. He takes another deep breath, not looking at you. "We can't do this."

"What-- why not?" You feel shameful suddenly, like the slut he said you were dressed as just ten minutes before.

"You need to get out and go home. I'll talk to Sarah about this, but you and I need to forget about.. this."

You're so ashamed you could cry. "What did I do?" you ask in that same small voice.

"I just.. can't, sweetheart. We can't."

"I don't know what you think of me, but I've never.. I never have.. I'm a virgin," you practically whisper.

Joel gives a bitter laugh and runs his hands through his hair, eyes closed in longing. "Baby, that ain't makin' things any easier."

"So you don't want me."

"Sweetheart, you're beautiful, you're funny, you're smart, I like you a helluva lot. Of course I want you. You felt how much I want you, right?"

You nod.

"We've both been drinkin', and I'm pretty sure you're a little high right now. I can't take advantage of ya. I won't. As much as I want to be the first to bury my cock into that tight wet pussy, I fuckin' won't take advantage."

Your heart skips a beat, hearing him say these things, and your cunt throbs in response. But you don't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, but you gotta walk yourself home. I don't trust myself around ya, not right now," he says.

You shake yourself out of your fantasy and nod again, rearranging your clothes as you get out. The taste of him is still on your tongue, you can still feel his large, rough hands on your skin and his clothed hardness rubbing between your thighs. Even if you never see him again, this is all you will think about for the rest of your life, ever.

"Good night, Joel," you say softly, getting out and closing the door behind you. Shivering even though the night is warm, you hold yourself as you walk to your house, unlock the door and get in. Lights off, you peek through the windows as you watch Joel finally emerge from the truck. For a moment he goes towards his own house, then changes his mind and heads directly to your door. You gasp as you see him start to come up the porch steps, then he forces himself to turn back, walking resolutely to his own house, door shut for the rest of the night.

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dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[darlsbardlife]

Another adventure (aka traumatizing experience) with the Ineffable Husbands and the Archivist

[littlelovelyra]

In Darkness, Hope Flickers: Chapter 2 "We need a Break"

“Sometimes Astarion, love isn’t enough.”

Ao3 if you prefer

Summary: After Astarion offers you up to Araj you realise this relationship needs a break. You want time apart from him to figure out what you want. Things don't go as you planned and you see the old Astarion for a moment that leaves you confused. A break will be good... right?

Warnings: Dom Ascended Astarion, Love triangles, possessiveness, anger, PiV, Mouth Stuff, mild non consent (i say mild because she doesnt say the words "Yes"), heartbreak, fluff, death, violence

All work is 18+

Minors DNI

________________________________

Lilah

“Just give her a nibble, Lilah. It won’t be that bad.” Astarion stands impatiently beside Araj as she offers her neck to you. “Think of all that power we can wield.” His crimson eyes turn commanding as they bore into you. Of all the things to do to you, this takes the cake. How can he stand there and offer you up? He should know better.

“How could you ask that of me Astarion?” The words are barely above a whisper as you feel tears stinging the back of your eyes. “I will not do this.”

“Silence, spawn. Did you not hear your master’s command? Bite me.” Araj sneers as she stares down at you. You watch as something shifts in Astarion’s expression his eyes widen slightly at the realisation of what he has asked of you. 

“Do not. Address her as merely a spawn.” His hand swiftly catches Araj by the neck. “You want to feel a bite so desperately? Today is your lucky day, I have suddenly become famished.” He slams the door shut to ensure outsiders cannot see. Clamping down on her neck he takes deep long pulls draining her. You watch her face pale and her eyes widen in fear as she realises he has no intention of letting her walk away. He releases her momentarily and brings his mouth to her ear.

“This is what you get, not only for attempting to force me back at Moonrise, no, this is also for trying to force your sick fantasies onto my precious consort. Your time is up.” And with those last words, he bites back down draining the last of her blood. You watch as the light leaves her eyes, her body goes limp and as you look away you hear a loud thud as he drops her lifeless form to the floor. 

His hands encircle your waist from behind and you turn to face him, stunned to see his expression is soft and his crimson eyes are flooded with guilt and concern. 

“Are you alright?” His hands gently cup your face as his eyes scan yours. “She’s gone now and we’ll never have to deal with her again.” He leans down to kiss you but you turn your head away.

“I can’t believe you asked me to indulge her. YOU. As if I was just some plaything…” your voice cracks and tears spill from your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore Astarion. I think we need to have a break from each other.” You almost hear your heart split in two as the ache rips through your chest. 

For a brief moment, pain flashes in his eyes and he opens his mouth to speak but stops himself before he can say anything. He squeezes his eyes shut and when he reopens them you see nothing but emptiness. He doesn’t even bother to fight for this, for you, he nods and exits the building, leaving you behind. 

You journey back to the Elfsong Tavern, noticing your companions sitting around the bar having a drink. They try to catch your attention but you storm your way upstairs kicking the door open to your private quarters and slamming it shut. You fling yourself onto your bed, shoving your face into the pillow and scream as loud as you can. After 4 muffled screams, you lay on your back and stare up at the ceiling feeling numb. There is a soft knock at the door and you hear it click open.

“Lilah? May I come in?” Halsin’s voice cuts through the silence of your room and you mumble a yes in reply to his question. You hear him cross the room and feel the bed shift slightly as he lays beside you staring at the ceiling. “Would you like to talk about it?” His voice is calm as he lays there not moving an inch. 

“No. Yes? I don’t know.” The quiver in your voice sounds pathetic in your ears you find it hard to believe that you were once Bhaal’s chosen. “He… offered me up to that Drow… the same one at Moonrise. You know, the one who tried to make me order Astarion to bite her? How could he ask that of me?” The question leaves your mouth as a whisper.

“Did you? Bite her?” Halsin shifts onto his side and faces you.

“No. I declined and she told me I had to listen to my master. That’s when he snapped, he killed her by giving her what she wanted. I don’t understand why he would offer me up but then kill her. It doesn’t make sense. I thought, for a moment, I saw guilt in his eyes when he realised what he had asked of me. He tried to kiss me… to make sure I was alright but I felt sick that he even entertained it for a moment. I told him we needed a break.” You bring your hands to your face and rub your eyes as tears escape. 

Halsin pulls you into him and rubs your back as you sob softly into his chest. “How did he react to that?”

“He said nothing. He nodded then left me there.” You mumble into his chest as you choke on the sobs that shake your body. “He didn’t argue… he didn’t fight for me, for us. He just left.” Your sobs pick up and you struggle to breathe as a panic attack rolls through you. 

“Shhhhhh my heart, please do not cry.” Halsin gently squeezes you closer as he runs his hands through your hair. The tenderness in his touch makes you cry more because it feels like a lifetime since you have been held like this. 

He shifts around, cups your face with one hand and slowly presses his lips to yours catching the quiet sobs that escape your mouth. Your lips part as your tongues meet and Halsin groans softly as they move against each other. One of his hands tangles in your hair as the other grips the back of your thigh, pulling it up to hook your leg over him. Once your leg is draped over the druid he moves his hand to your ass pushing it gently to bring your body closer. You involuntarily grind your hips to his center and feel his hardened length rub against your sex. A groan escapes your mouth and your breathing becomes heavy as your center heats with need.  

You miss this, the passion… the need for closeness. You haven’t had this in so long, it’s always felt detached since his change. You wished this could be your sweet Astarion, the Astarion who worshiped your body… who opened his heart to you and helped you through your urges. The Astarion who kicked open the barn doors to interrupt the feral rutting between a Bugbear and an Ogre. You miss him so much. 

A wave of guilt runs through you, you’re thinking of Astarion… While Halsin is here giving you his all. He has been so supportive through this and patient, so very patient. He deserves so much more than what you’re giving him and he deserves to be with someone who only thinks of him. Before you have the chance to pull away something shifts in the air and you know he’s here before you see him.

“Oh for fucksake… Halsin. Get out.” Astarion stands in the doorway tapping his foot impatiently as his crimson eyes hold your gaze. 

Halsin looks at you silently waiting for you to let him know if you need him. You smile and nod letting him know it will be okay. Gently he runs his thumb across your lips and exits the room.

“Well?” Astarion stands at the edge of your bed, his arms folded and his face looks less than amused. 

You bite your lip nervously and stare at him waiting for the outburst of anger.

_____________________________   Astarion

As you walk up the stairs to your room you hear a rapid heartbeat, heavy breathing and soft groans, you pause on the landing. She wouldn’t. You think to yourself, she couldn’t have been serious about the break right? A twisting feeling settles in your chest… would you blame her if she did leave? You practically offered her up like a slave to that drow, how could you do that to her? What in the nine hells was wrong with you? You offered her up just like Cazador did with you- NO. You are nothing like him, you are better and more powerful. You certainly do not feel guilty, no… that is a sign of weakness. You are NOT weak. She is yours and if she wants to play freedom while she has the tadpole then let her, once it’s gone you will have her, forever. 

You stalk your way to the door and open it, another twang of pain shoots across your chest instantly as you watch her cling to Halsin in heated passion. You push it deep down, you will not let your consort embarrass you like this.

“Oh for fucksake… Halsin. Get out.” You stand in the doorway tapping your foot impatiently as your crimson eyes shoot daggers her way. You continue to stare at her ignoring the druid as he exits the room.

“Well?” You walk up to the edge of the bed and fold your arms and you watch her bottom lip tremble as she catches it nervously between her teeth. “What do you think you’re doing? And on our bed? Have you no class?” You move around the bed and lean down pinning her arms above her head.

“Let go Astarion. I told you we need a break.” She turns her face away from yours but you notice the puffy red rings around her eyes from crying. Your grip softens against her wrists yet she does not move an inch. 

“Little love… I…” Your words trail off, you can’t apologise to her that is a sign of weakness. There must be something you can do that will fix this. “I love you… and you love me… don’t you?” Your words are like silk and far back in the recesses of your mind you recognise this tone. It’s the same manipulative tone you used on your conquests… the same tone Cazador taught you. But you meant these words… you meant what you said. You still do love her… but maybe you love the power more. 

“Sometimes Astarion, love isn’t enough.” She slips out from beneath you, sitting in the middle of the bed hugging her legs to her chest and her head falls onto her knees. You watch as her shoulders shake softly as quiet sobs leave her mouth. “Just… show me. Show me you still care… make me believe it. Please… please.” Her ruby eyes glisten with a deep sadness as her pleas sink into your chest. 

“You have my love. You are my consort, I can give you power beyond measure… riches you have only dreamed of. I can give you all of that, eternally… Why is that not enough?” You feel anger start to rise as you convince yourself that she is being unreasonable. 

“If I wanted all of that Astarion, I would not have denied Bhaal. You were enough for me, even as a spawn. I wanted nothing more. But now… this… man you have become. I barely recognise you, sometimes I think you’re still in there but after today with Araj I have realised you are gone. The man I loved is not here anymore.” Her voice trembles as she struggles to get them out. 

“The man you loved was pathetic. If you could be with someone so weak how can you not be with someone this powerful?” Your voice becomes laced with rage as you feel yourself losing her.

“The man I loved was not weak. He was strong. But this? Hiding behind power? THAT is weak. The man I loved saw me as an equal and he certainly would not have kept me as a spawn.” A rage of her own settles into her voice as she stares at you.

“This again? I told you that you will be a true vampire… one day. When I am ready.” You raise your voice and start pacing the room in frustration. 

“And when will you be ready Astarion? You never will be. You think of me as your pet, as your property. We need to stop this. As long as I have this tadpole in my head, I will not stay with you.” She stands up, walks to the door and opens it. “You need to leave.” As she points out the room your anger tips over the edge.

“Fine! Enjoy your freedom while it lasts but once that little tadpole is gone I will have you back. So go, have fun with the druid. I have all the time in the world, I don’t care what you do now, you will be mine and only mine soon enough.” You stalk past her exit the room and slam the door shut. 

Shifting into bat form you fly out the opened window and make your way to the empty palace you had cleared out after killing Cazador. You may as well spend time figuring out what you want to do with the place now that it belongs to you. 

As you arrive you shift back into yourself and enter the palace. It seems colder and duller than before… what use is a palace if you have no one to share it with? You could always make a few more spawns maybe one of them would be more appreciative of the gifts you can bestow upon them… but do you want anyone else but her? Perhaps not. Does that count as a weakness? You aren’t sure. 

Perhaps a break for her would be good? She would see what she is missing… but could you risk losing her? A familiar feeling faintly settles in your stomach. Fear. Instead of pushing the fear away, you stroll back towards the Elfsong Tavern. You needed to fix this somehow. 

_________________________________

Lilah

Falling back down onto your bed you feel as if your heart is being ripped to pieces. The pit of your stomach twists and aches leaving you feeling nauseous. You love him so much, you never even thought you were capable of love but he made that possible for you. Through all your dark urges… he never judged you, he always stood by your side and defended you. 

How could you let him go? You know that once the tadpole is gone he will gain control over you and panic spreads like wildfire through your body. You hear the door click open and this time Halsin does not wait to be invited in, he scoops you up and sits on the bed cradling you as waves of panic attacks move through you. 

“I am only here to support you. You may ask me to leave and I will respect your request. You need to breathe my heart. Breathe.” Halsin rubs slow steady circles on your back to calm you down and you feel your breathing begin to regulate. “There we go. That’s better.” He rests his hand atop yours and waits patiently in silence.

“Halsin, about earlier… I got carried away, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” You tilt your head to the side and offer him a small apologetic smile. “You have been too kind to me.”

“Nonsense. You are my friend above anything else and it is my pleasure to help you. In whatever way you need help. I must admit I got carried away and for that, I apologise.” He smiles back and lazily rubs his thumb along your hand. 

As you look out your window you notice the soft glow of the moon shining through, after the events this afternoon with Araj you must have lost track of time. The exhaustion hits you all at once and you fail to stifle the yawn that escapes your mouth. Your eyelids feel heavy and your mind is shattered from the intense waves of emotions you have experienced today. Halsin chuckles softly and gently guides you down on the bed tucking the blankets around you. 

“Sleep, you need the rest.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and his hand lingers there a moment. 

“Thank you Halsin. You’re a good friend.” A lazy smile spreads across your face as your heavy eyelids close. You feel a soft kiss on your forehead and hear the door open and close. Sleep finds you fast. 

*********************

The crisp morning air sends shivers through your body, and in your half-asleep daze, you instinctively roll over to gather warmth from the body next to you. Familiar arms wrap around you, and you snuggle into his neck, resting your head in the crook. Inhaling deeply, the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy fills your lungs, spreading a wave of warmth through you. Home. This is what home feels like. You kiss his neck softly, and he pulls you closer, kissing you gently on your forehead.

"Hello, beautiful." The melody of his voice resonates through you as he tilts your head up and tenderly kisses you. You groan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body firmly against his. "Does this mean you're not angry with me anymore?" he whispers between kisses, and your mind snaps awake.

“Astarion what the fuck?” You push yourself back and stare at him wide-eyed. 

“Well, that was short-lived.” He chuckles softly and sits up to face you. 

“I thought I told you to get out? Or… was that not … Clear…” Your thoughts muddle as his hand runs lazy circles along your inner thigh. Your eyes flicker to his and you are met with crimson liquid, the look he used to get just before he would make love to you and a deep longing settles in your core. “What… are you doing… here?” His hand inches further up your thigh and his thumb lightly grazes along your now-soaked cloth. 

“I live here, why wouldn’t I be here?” His voice lowers in pitch as he whispers leaving shivers running down your spine. He crawls forward and gently pushes you back against the pillows.

“We’re… having a break, Astarion.” Your words stutter as he traces his tongue along your jaw.

“I know.” His breath is hot in your ear and he moves to kiss your neck. “But look how you respond to me. Does that look like you want a break?” He runs his thumb down again and you feel the dampness of your cloth press to your sensitive core. 

“It’s… a natural reaction…” You whisper out sighing at the sensation. “We can’t keep doing this.” Your actions betray your words as you open your legs wider.

“We can have a break if that’s what you want, little love.” He grips your hips and pulls you close to him as a small yelp escapes your mouth. “You’ll have your break committing to me. Be with whoever you want, test the waters. I won’t judge.” He lowers his head between your thighs and you feel his breath on your center. “Just know that I have every intention of reclaiming you as mine.”

He pushes your underclothes aside and slips his tongue through your slick folds. You gasp in pleasure as your head falls back and your hands lock themselves in the curls of his hair. He takes his time with long strokes of his tongue as if he were savouring this moment like it could be his last. Your hands apply light pressure to his head, pressing him into your core as you moan out his name. 

His pace quickens as he groans swirling tight circles on your swollen bud. Your body buckles against his face as waves of pleasure course through you as you climax. With your fingers still laced in his hair, you pull him up towards you and crash your lips to his. Your mouths instantly parting and your tongues reunite in their familiar dance. 

“Tell me what you want. Anything.” You almost hear a small crack in his voice, a vulnerability you have not heard in weeks. His kisses become sloppy and frantic. 

“Love. Just… your love…” you whisper through heavy breaths and for a moment he pauses as his eyes lock with yours. 

In heated passion, you remove one another’s clothes with haste and it is not long before you feel his manhood entering your drenched sex. As he thrusts into you, your hands grip his back pulling him as close to you as possible. You want to feel his skin against yours. Your head starts dizzying, your breathing becomes rapid and you can feel yourself standing at the edge of bliss. Turning your head to the side you expose your neck and guide him to feed out of habit. As he brings his mouth down you wait for the bite but instead, he kisses you softly tipping you over the edge. 

Waves of pleasure crash down and you call out his name. Shortly after you feel his hips buck as he unravels in pleasure and he pulls you closer to him kissing you softly through his release. 

Tangled in each other you lay there, breathless and… confused. This felt different to the last time, he felt… like Astarion. 

You feel his arms loosen around you and he climbs out of bed to redress. Pulling the covers over your body you watch him curiously, wondering what he will do next.

Curiosity gets the better of you and the question slips out “Are you leaving?”.

“Like I said, you can have your break.” His voice sounds small and uneasy as he walks towards the door. He glances your way and while his facial expression is confident you see his crimson eyes glint with sadness. 

“Aeterna amantes. Lovers forever, until the world falls down. I meant every word.” His stare lingers for a moment and then he leaves.

Next chapter

[totaldramafan1998]

Pudding’s Combat Style

Hello and good morning, everyone 

Let me cut to the chase; last year I started a One Piece AU series in AO3 where Charlotte Pudding decided to join the Straw Hat Pirates as their sous chef. I had her be interviewed by them, given her a tour of their ship, The Thousand Sunny, and I even had her and Sanji reconnect and form a relationship that has more boundaries so that they can learn more about each other. 

But here’s something that’s really been a bit of a challenge for me. I am currently trying to plan out a fic where they would later battle an enemy ship… but it would lead up to Pudding literally struggling to defend herself. 

Because of this, Pudding decided to ask the Straw Hats if they can teach her how to defend herself if she ever has to fight off an enemy by herself. 

Now here’s the issue, I am literally struggling with deciding on what type of fighting style Pudding would be good at. Swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, gunslinging, or even using Sanji kicking style. So I have a question, in your opinion, what type of combat would Pudding be good at the most? And if she were to use a weapon, what would it be?

[raisukujira]

i started my first series on ao3 and this is about LietPol at their historical events!

I hope you enjoy it! I’ll try to be regularly active…