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javierpena-inatacvest · 9 months ago

Text

Growing

Summary: After a concerning phone call from his daughter's Principal, Javi goes to find out the true reason why she's really there in the first place.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (No use of y/n)

Warnings: Honestly this is all fluff 😭 Misogyny, dress codes being the dumbest thing in the world, Javi going full dad mode ™️, Javi being the best girl dad, Sappy Dad Javi loving his daughters so much

A/N: This story is inspired by this ask and what started as a short little snippet ended up being 4k long 🥴 I've written so much for Javi being a dad to his younger daughters, but I will fight anyone who says he isn't the best girl dad at every phase of life his daughters are in 🥺 Javi loves all his daughters equally, but I just know he and Lucy have such a special bond and it makes me wanna cry and scream all at once. I ain't gonna lie, ya girl shed a few tears with this one 🥲 oldest daughters with emotionally unavailable fathers gang rise

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“It should be fucking illegal to work when it’s this hot.”

“How long have you lived in Texas for, you fucking moron? Of course it’s hot. It’s Texas. Stop bitching, you baby.”

“Oh shut up. You’re telling me you're comfortable right now?”

“No, you idiot. It’s hot as Satan’s asshole in here. Of course I’m not. But whining isn’t gonna make it not hot.”

“I know it’s not. Just let me complain, okay? Fuck, I honestly may take Satan’s asshole over this…”

While no one at the Laredo Sheriff’s department was a stranger to the sweltering Texas heat, even Javi couldn’t argue with his fellow co-workers that for a morning in late May, there was no denying it was already miserably hot outside.

He had just finished getting an earful about the topic from his daughters this morning during school drop-off, complaining that they may actually die of heat stroke before the day is done, and that his youngest, Harper, may die from “smelly boy sweat”, since no boy in the 7th grade was wearing enough deodorant as they should be (and that, he couldn’t argue).

“Cater’s right, Miller. Complaining isn’t helping you get all your shit done, and I need that file by the end of the day.” Javi grumbled, surprising Agent Carter and Miller as he passed their desks on the way to his office, making the pair raise their hands in defense in justification of their weather woes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t worry, it’ll be done before the end of the day. If I don’t melt into a puddle first…” Agent Miller grumbled, sticking his face back into the piles of papers scattered across his desk.

While he would never give his co-workers the satisfaction of knowing he was just as irritated by the early onset heatwave as they were, Javi’s suit jacket was already shed and sleeves were rolled up past his elbows before he had barely made it through his office door.

As he took a seat at his desk, looking over his list of to-do’s for today, he was taken aback to hear the aggressive ringing of his phone this early, wondering what could have already gone so wrong that someone already needed to get a hold of him.

Ring, ring, ringggggg. Ring, ring, ringggg-

“Laredo Sheriff’s Department, this is Peña.”

“Hi Mr. Peña. This is Mr. Wilson, Assistant Principal over at United High School.”

Javi sat up just a little straighter in his desk chair, running his hand over the back of his neck, a jolt of nerves hitting his stomach like he was the one being called down to the principal’s office.

Javi had gotten plenty of phone calls from his daughter’s school throughout the years. Calls to pick one of them up and take them home because they were sick, forgotten lunchboxes and school projects, one justified elementary school fist fight- Javi had pretty much heard it all.

Now that your daughters had reached middle school and high school, the calls home now came few and far between, and most of the time, came from the girls themselves on their own phones, more often than not, in the form of your middle daughter, Elliot, asking if he would come pick her up because school was “the most boring place on earth”.

He took a moment to try and compose himself, knowing that if one of the girls was sick, they would have texted him, or would have gotten a call from an office secretary, and last time he checked, Assistant Principals weren’t calling parents in the middle of a work day just to sprinkle in some good news.

So what in the hell was he calling for?

“Uh, H-hi, Mr. Wilson. Can I ask, um, what uh- what’s the reason for the phone call? Is everything okay?”

“Well Mr. Peña, I’m calling because I’m here with your daughter. Unfortunately, she’s here after a teacher referral for disrespectful and defiant behavior.”

Javi could feel his brow furrow and face scrunch in genuine confusion, practically left speechless by Mr. Wilson’s statement. Sure, his daughter Elliot was going through a little bit of a “phase” right now, but even though she had come out of the womb with an iron will power and enough sass to fuel a small country, she knew better than to talk back to adults, especially her teachers.

“Are- Are you serious? I’m really sorry, Mr. Wilson. Could you um- What did Elliot do?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have clarified. While I have had the… pleasure…. of meeting your daughter, Elliot, she’s not the one I’m calling about. Mr. Peña, I’m calling about your daughter, Lucy.”

If the phone call itself wasn’t already enough to knock Javi on his ass, that statement sure as hell was.

“Lucy? There’s no fucking way.” He thought to himself.

In all 12 years Lucy had been in school, the worst thing any teacher had ever had to say about your oldest daughter was that she was an overachiever. Lucy was your classic, type-A oldest daughter- She was a straight A student, captain of her soccer team, a member of every club under the sun, and most importantly, was the kindest kid a parent could ask for. Lucy lived by the rules, so the fact that she went out of her way to break one, let alone be disrespectful about it? Something wasn’t adding up.

“I… Mr. Wilson, I’m sorry, I don’t wanna be rude, but- are you sure you’ve got the right kid?” Javi stammered, still in shock from what he had just heard, wondering when someone was going to walk in and tell him this was some sort of weird prank.

“Oh yes, I’m sure. Mr. Peña, I think it may be best if you and your wife just come down to the school to talk about this.”

“Um, my- my wife is out of town helping her dad out after surgery but uh- yeah, I’ll um, I’ll be there in the next uh- shit…” He muttered, looking down at his watch, quickly calculating in his brain, “the next 30 minutes?”

“Great. We’ll see you then, Mr. Peña. Goodbye.”

“B-bye.”

Javi sat there for a moment, phone still held to his ear as the dial tone rang, shooting in one ear and out the other as he tried to process what had just happened. He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of his confusion enough to let his nerves take over, frantically scrambling to grab his things before storming out of the office even faster than he had entered a few moments ago.

As soon as he was in the car, Javi was frantically dialing your number, backing out of his parking spot and pulling out onto the road like he was being called for some sort of life threatening emergency.

“C’mon, pick up, pick up, pick up…” Javi huffed, anxiously tapping his fingers against his steering wheel, waiting for you to answer.

“Hey, honey! What’s up? Hold on- yes, it’s Javi. Okay. I- yes, I will. All my family says hi and that we miss you! What’s going on?” You answered, an unsuspecting cheer in your tone, just happy to hear his voice.

“Uh- yeah, tell them, I- yeah, I say hi, too.” Javi responded, clearly frazzled and distracted as he sped down the road, wishing he would have taken a police squad car instead of his truck to get to Lucy’s school sooner.

“Javi, what’s going on? Are you okay?” You asked, clearly sensing the concern in his voice.

“I just got a call from the Assistant Principal that Lucy is down in the office because she got a referral for being defiant and disrespectful.”

“Wait, you mean Elliot?”

“No. Lucy.”

“Oh shit.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“Did they tell you why? Or what happened? That doesn’t seem like her at all. She- she knows better than that? And how much trouble she’d be in?”

“No, I’m going down to the school right now. If I wasn’t already sweating bad enough because it’s hot as fuck here today, I sure fucking am now.” Javi grumbled, pushing up his sleeves further before wiping the sweat accumulating on his forehead, sticking his dark curls to his skin.

“Hey, hey, Jav. I’m sure it will be okay. I’m sure there’s gotta be a reason. Take a few deep breaths, okay? Please just keep me posted.”

“Okay. I-I will.”

“It’ll be okay, Papa Bear. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

With a quick beep on the other end of the phone, Javi set down his phone in his lap, wrapping his fingers around the wheel with an iron grip and clenching his jaw until it hurt, turning on the radio as loud as it could go to drown out the “what-if’s” dancing around his mind in what was going to be the world’s longest 10 minute drive to United High School.

Javi had found himself in plenty of stressful situations throughout his life. Hell, stress was a given working as a DEA agent in Colombia trying to take down the biggest drug lords of the 20th century. Yet somehow, Javi found himself just as nervous, if not more, as he walked into the main office of Lucy’s high school, trying to figure out what she had done that was worthy of a trip to the Assistant Principal.

After some directions from one of the secretaries, Javi found Mr. Wilson’s office door, giving it a few raps before it was answered by a short and stout older man, his poorly balding head adorned with a limited amount of scraggly gray hairs and face painted with an unamused half-smile.

“Mr. Peña? Please, come in and take a seat.” Mr. Wilson sighed, gesturing to an open chair next to his daughter, sitting with her arms crossed over her chest and eyes peeled to the floor, seemingly trying to shrink herself as small as possible into her chair.

Before Javi could even ask Lucy what was going on or if she was okay, Mr. Wilson had already begun on his rant, promptly taking a seat behind his desk with a deep sigh, forcing the attention onto him.

“Well Mr. Peña, I’m sorry to have to call you in from your job, but I felt that this was something that more than warranted a parental visit. As if it wasn’t bad enough she is already deliberately breaking our school’s dress code, Lucy's already been one of several students down here today who have had the audacity to argue with both teachers and myself about the issue.”

Just as Javi was about to speak, he stopped himself in disbelief, trying to process what he had just heard, looking over at Lucy, trying to hold back her tears before turning back to Mr. Wilson.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I think I must be missing something. This is about what Lucy’s wearing?” Javi asked, scratching the back of his head in confusion.

“Yes.” Mr. Wilson replied, almost annoyed that Javi’s immediate response was shock, rather than anger. “Our dress code clearly states that girls may not wear shorts below fingertip length or tank tops that are less than 3 fingers thick across the strap. It’s a distraction for both male staff and students. As your daughter is a Junior, this rule should come as no surprise to her. On top of this, she and a few other girls in the hallway this morning were written up for resisting coming to the office after teachers on dress code duty had written them up.”

Javi had to visibly shake his head, trying to make sure he had really understood what he had just heard as his jaw hung open in disbelief. He took a deep breath, trying not to laugh to himself out of shock and building anger, asking one more time to make sure he truly comprehended this was the reason for the phone call this morning.

“I’m sorry, I really think I must not be understanding this.”

“That’s not what happened…” Lucy quietly piped in, eyes still glued to the floor.

“Please, Ms. Peña, why don’t you enlighten us, then?” Mr. Wilson replied, a sarcastic delight in his tone.

“I was on my way to second period when I got stopped by one of the teachers in the hallway. She told me that she needed to measure my tank top and shorts to make sure they were up to dress code. I knew they were kinda short but it’s like, a million degrees outside today and everyone is miserable because the air conditioning doesn’t work in half the rooms on the second floor.” Lucy paused, sitting up a little taller in her chair, looking over at her dad, her face filled riddled with guilt. Javi looked back at her, quietly nodding in reassurance for her to keep going.

“But um, the teacher said that my shorts were too short, and that I needed to go to the office so they could write me a dress code referral. But I had a huge presentation that I’ve been working on that I was supposed to give today for my second period science class, and Ms. Feltmate told us that if we miss the presentation portion of our project, we get an automatic 20% reduction in our grade. I’ve worked so hard on that project, and I told the teacher in the hallway I couldn’t go because I’d miss my presentation. She told me she didn’t care, and that I should have known better, and then I told her it wasn’t fair that she’s going to ruin my grade on this project because of my shorts when literally everyone in the school is breaking dress code today because it’s so hot out. I tried to tell her I’d even go before 3rd period so I didn’t have to miss my presentation but she told me she didn’t believe me and that she was going to write me up. So, I’ve been down here until you came. I’m- I’m sorry, Dad.”

At this point, tears were welling in Lucy’s eyes, her voice quivering and bottom lip trembling, trying to keep from completely sobbing in front of her Dad and Assistant Principal, looking up at Javi with regret and shame for what she’d done.

If Javi wasn’t upset before his daughter’s testimony, now, he was absolutely fuming. Javi was using every ounce of composure he had left to keep from completely exploding as he readjusted himself in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he locked eyes with Mr. Wilson.

“Mr. Wilson, what period should Lucy be in right now?” Javi asked, trying to keep as calm as possible while he waited for Mr. Wilson’s surprised response.

“Uh- I believe 4th period just started? Why?”

“So you mean to tell me, Mr. Wilson, that not only has my daughter missed out on a huge presentation that she has spent countless hours working on, she’s also missed out on two other classes because you think that keeping her here in your office because of her shorts is more important than her learning?”

Mr. Wilson stared back at Javi in a silent shock, taken aback that he was in fact, not on his side at all, and was seconds away from absolutely ripping him a new one for what he had done to his daughter.

“Well, y-yes, but-” Mr. Wilson stammered, trying to rebuttal.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, but this is the goddamn stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Lucy is a straight A student. She cares more about school than any kid I’ve ever met. She is smart, and hard working, and the fact that you wanna actively punish her for that just because she’s wearing shorts when it’s the hottest damn day of the year is absolutely fucking ridiculous. Second of all, if playing dress code police is more important to you than girls going to class because some teenage creeps, better yet, staff members can’t keep it in their pants, you’ve got a way bigger issue on your hands than what my daughter chooses to wear to school.”

A stark silence hung in the air for a moment filled with mixture of Javi’s fumes, Lucy’s shock and surprise, and Mr. Wilson’s overwhelming embarrassment at the situation he had brought upon himself. Before Mr. Wilson could even try to muster out some sort of defense, Javi was already standing up out of his chair, nudging Lucy to do the same.

“Grab your stuff, Lu, we’re going.”

“Mr. Peña, let me assure you that-”

“Mr. Wilson, the only thing you need to assure me is that you’re going to explain to her teacher where Lucy was wasting her time this morning so she can give her presentation for full credit, and that I’m not gonna hear from you again in regards to what my kid wears to school when it’s 105 degrees outside. Have a nice day.”

Without another word, Javi was already halfway out the door, Lucy quickly following behind him as he signed her out for the rest of the day before silently storming out to his truck slamming the door behind him as Lucy sheepishly crawled into the passenger side, setting her backpack between her feet.

“Dad, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Lu, I’m not mad at you. You have nothing to apologize for. You think I’d be upset with you because of that?”

“Well, I don’t know, I mean, I did technically break the rules, and you had to leave work to come here, and-”

“Hey.” Javi paused, putting a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, getting her to take her eyes out of her lap and look at him, “Lucy, I’m proud of you. You stood up for yourself for something that was clearly important to you when you knew what other people were doing wasn’t right. I could never be mad at you for that.”

Finally, a small smile pursed the edges of Lucy’s lips, shrugging her shoulders to try and play off her dad’s compliment, even though they both knew Javi was more than right to be proud of what his daughter had done.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course, Lu. I’m being serious though, what you did takes a lotta balls. You should be proud of yourself.” Javi smiled, giving Lucy a little nudge with the hand still placed on her shoulder.

“Ew, Dad, gross.” Lucy sighed, rolling her eyes as she playfully shoved her Dad’s arm off her, the pair quietly laughing to themselves.

“You promise I’m not in trouble?” Lucy asked again, raising an eyebrow at her dad.

“The only punishment I’m making you endure is forcing you to spend some time with your old man for the rest of the day.” Javi smirked, fastening his seatbelt before looking over his shoulder to back out of his haphazard park job.

“Could be worse.” Lucy teased, giving her Dad a little shrug, secretly excited that not only had her Dad stood up for her without a second thought, but was letting her ditch school to spend time together. While at the ripe age of 17, she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Lucy knew how lucky she was to have a dad like hers. “Do we have to listen to your old man music while we drive, or is that also part of the punishment?”

“Yup. No Jonas Brothers for this drive, Lucy Lu.”

“Dad, I haven’t listened to the Jonas Brothers in years. I don’t even like them anymore.” Lucy laughed, cringing at Javi’s presumed music interests for her. “That’s okay, I don’t mind your old man music. You’re better than Mom. She’s been on a huge ABBA kick every time we drive to soccer practice, and if I hear “Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie” one more time, my ears may bleed.”

Reaching over the center console Lucy grabbed the aux cord, plugging in her phone, scrunching her face in concentration as she scrolled through a few different playlists until landing on something that seemed to fit the bill, setting her phone in her lap while turning up the volume.

Dun.

Dunnnadnun.

Dunanun.

Javi couldn’t help but smile at Lucy’s pick of “Back in Black” by AC/DC, one of Lucy’s favorite songs her and Javi would listen to on her drives hockey practices and games when she was little, claiming the song gave her special powers to “kick boys butts” when she played.

“Damn, you must really want me to kick your ass in putt putt, huh?” Javi teased, hinting at his makeshift plans for the rest of the afternoon.

“Really? That's what we're doing? Dad, no offense, but you suck at putt putt. Are you trying to make this easy for me? Because if that’s the case, then I’ll start planning my flavor choice for my extra scoop of winner’s ice cream now.”

“Whatever you say, smartass.”

After 18 holes of mini-golf, Javi couldn’t even pretend that he put up a fight against Lucy, admitting in defeat that he didn’t even stand a chance against her, not even foregoing bribery to get her to throw away his embarrassingly high score card as proof of his loss.

Per tradition in the Peña household, Lucy rightfully earned her extra scoop of ice cream at Eva’s Dairy Barn for her impressive putt putt victory, her and Javi settling in on their favorite bench by the little stream that ran behind the ice cream shop, where their family had spend more than their fair share of time enjoying their favorite treats while stomping and splashing in the creek.

“Victory sure does taste sweet.” Lucy joked, sticking her tongue out at Javi as she bit into her ice cream, Javi rolling his eyes at her even though she had every right to give him shit after his terrible performance.

“Well if you can find a college with a putt putt scholarship, that’s the place to go.” Javi smiled before the pair went quiet, the reality of knowing Lucy would be seriously starting to look at colleges soon weighing heavy in his throat and deep in his chest. “Have you uh, thought anymore about schools you like?” He asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant, rather than the complete and utter terror he really felt.

“I don’t know… a lot of people from school are talking about going to Texas Tech or Texas A&M… I think I like Texas A&M but, I don’t know, it’s just….” Lucy paused, taking a deep breath, anxiously twiddling with her fingers.

“Just what, Lu?”

“It’s almost 6 hours away. I know it’s not really that far but, I don’t know… I’m just really worried that I’ll miss you guys. Don’t tell Elliot and Harper I said that.”

It took everything in Javi not to melt into a weepy, sobbing mess right then and there on that bench, wondering how yesterday, he was bringing Lucy home from the hospital, scared shitless on how in the world he was going to be a father, let alone a half decent one, and now, here Lucy was, nearly an adult who had blossomed into the most wonderful daughter he could have asked for, and was getting ready to leave for college.

Wrapping his arm over Lucy’s shoulder, she let her head fall next to his, sitting for a moment in a thoughtful silence before Javi spoke.

“No matter where you go or what you do, you know that we’ll always be there for you, right? Even when you’re sick of us. You’re an amazing kid, Lu. We’re all so proud of you. I’m so proud of you. We’ll be there for you even if you’re on the other end of the earth if that’s where you wanna go. I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Javi couldn’t help but reach up to wipe the tears welling in his eyes with the back of his hand after a quick kiss on Lucy's forehead, making Lucy laugh as she tried to hide the tears of her own.

“Dad, are you crying?”

“No… A little… I’m just really pissed you beat me at mini golf, okay?” Javi joked, trying to use a little humor before he became a total sap. “Alright, we should probably head home before Elliot and Harper get too suspicious.”

“Not looking forward to the 10 pounds of shit they’re gonna give me when I found out I got called down to the principal's office.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Elliot will happily triple your visits by the time she’s your age. As for Harper, God, I honestly worry she’s gonna be calling the principal down to see her.”

“Is this your subtle way of telling me I’m your favorite child?”

“No, this is my subtle way of thanking you that despite your run in with the pants police today, you’re the one I’m least worried about having to bail out of jail one day. Don’t tell them I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Dad.”

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for-a-longlongtime · 3 months ago

Note

Good lord what is the young Joel and Marcus wip 😏

ANON come here and let me kiss you on the forehead!! This one is special to me 😍

First of all... young!Joel Miller x young!MarcusMoreno is not a pairing that comes completely out of nowhere. As a matter of fact, they're lurking in my masterlist, tucked into a story, but I don't want to spoiler it for other people who may not have read some of the fics I wrote last year.

However, if you know - you know. 😏

Let's get into it:

This is probably one of the heftiest WIPs that I haven't posted anything from yet, as the doc clocks in at about 5K so far - and it's actually going to be a series! I'd say a tentative 9 to 10 (not super long, hopefully LOL) chapters at this point. And I'm actually going to try to have most of this written, or at the very least have half of it done before I post the first chapter, just to make things a little more manageable for myself.

We meet Joel and Marcus in Austin, TX when they're about 20 and 21 years old, and the series will span a period of approximately twenty five years actually, so I'm very excited about that! They meet in a bar - that Joel isn't supposed to be at, because he's not of legal drinking age - when they're trying to break up a fight among their friends, which results into the two of them getting kicked out.

Joel has been working long, long days in construction for a few years in order to support himself and Tommy, as their parents died when Joel was 16/17 years old. One of the reasons why he rolled into that line of work - besides the money - is because the childhood house that they still live in needs so much work done, and the only way he could think about being able to afford that somehow is by learning how to do all the work himself because he'd never be able to afford a contractor.

His life couldn't be any more different than Marcus', who is busy with college and who tries to hide a part of his life for most people - namely that his father is the leader of the Heroics and his mother is a Heroics trainer. There is the expectation that he's going to follow in their footsteps, but his powers haven't shown up yet, so he's trying to focus on blazing his own path.

They end up becoming friends, and music plays an important role in that; the series takes place in the (early/mid) nineties, so get ready for a good amount of grunge / rock / etc. There are a lot of twists and turns in their story (apparantly Little Beast was only the beginning of a whole lot of angst/drama pouring into my fics), so I don't want to reveal too much it, but let's just say that it's a tough ass road and things don't go the way they've planned.

But! I do have enough written so far that I can show you a little snippet of a very rough outline from chapter 2:

Joel and Marcus listening to grunge music and smoking so much pot at Joel's place. Careful first kisses. Giggling about it as they’re so stoned and kind of nervous. (They only smoke pot when Tommy isn’t around/going to be home that night, also to help manage Joels aches as he tends to be sore after a long day at the construction site - that's half of the reason why Marcus brings over weed). They’re both too high to do anything that requires much coordination but Marcus starts grinding against Joel’s dick and they eventually get eachother off that way, clothes still on, sitting on the couch. There are more kisses while they're both still panting, now with a giggle in between breaths every now and then, and the weed just makes them lose track of time - and it's not all that long before Joel finds himself grinding his hips up against Marcus again. "Fuck. Fuck, I…." He can't find the words, especially not when Marcus rocks back against him, just a little slower on his refractory period. "I want…. Fuck. 'm too high. I can't…" Marcus hushing him with another kiss and Joel moans, grabbing Marcus' hips and shifting on the couch, until Marcus is on his back and Joel on top of him. Nudging his hips into Marcus until they line up, still fully dressed, and the little “oh my god” once he gets it right. "Take it, take it, take it," Marcus panting under him, holding onto Joel's broad shoulders, which makes Joel moan against him, and when Marcus' hands grab Joel's ass, something just clicks inside of Joel's brain. And despite that everything is still slow and soft, he just goes feral because he wants it - wants Marcus - so goddamn bad "Wish I was inside you," against Marcus' ear, and Marcus cries out at that, imagining it, and because it feels so good that Joel is fucking his cock against him. "I wish I…" And not all of it is coherent, it's a string of words that fall from his lips, but he kind of talks Marcus through it, what he wants to do to him, and Marcus just loses his shit because holy fuck, Joel's voice is so deep when he's been smoking like this, and nobody has ever talked to him like this while getting off, and he loves it.

Thanks again for asking, Anon!! I honestly can't wait to write more on them and to eventually share these boys with all of you.

Want to know more about fics in my WIP folder? Check out the original post!

pssst, this is me looking innocent and tagging y'all for no reason whatsoever except for that you might be interested to see this WIP that's in the making 😇😘 thank you all so much for the support you gave to GP! @oliveksmoked @ohforficsake @wannab-urs @baronessvonglitter @angiewatson

@iknowisoundcrazyreads @gruaig-rua @thebeldroramscal @milla-frenchy @reallyrallyauthor

@jessthebaker @littleredpandanaps @bitchesuntitled @avastrasposts @almostempty

@almostfoxglove @rebel-held @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@din-cognito @penvisions @alltheglitterandtheroar

#pedro pascal characters #bi!joel miller #marcus moreno #queer fic #wip #wip folder #my writing

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starrseeker · 3 months ago

Text

Still Call You Mine

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!reader

Content warnings: Heartbreak, angst, alcohol use, a snippet of unwanted touch, fluff at the end?

A/N: So I won't lie, this probably isn't good. I typically only write for my own pleasure and enjoyment. My hubby was the one who finally convinced me to post something of mine. (I have like 20 different stories saved in my drafts lol.) It's also been a very long time since I've written fan fiction so be easy on me. No idea where I was actually going with this but hope you enjoy it anyways.

You had been heartbroken for weeks. The ache within never went away, a constant reminder that a piece of you was no more. You didn't know where to start. Where to pick up the pieces that had broken apart.

One crisp afternoon you sat within your new apartment. It was too painful to stay at the House of Wind anymore. Constant reminders of what once was. Memories that had been made. It was too much.

The fresh air blew through the open windows, giving you a slight reprieve of the throbbing in your chest. Taking a deep breath of the summer air before sipping the tea you cradled in your hands. How you managed to muster up the energy to brew it was a curious question.

Maybe this is when healing began. The small moments within life that slowly, oh so slowly, brought some life back to you. The ones that give you the feeling that everything will be okay.

A knock at the door stole you from your thoughts. Mindlessly you stood, crossing the space to open the door. Mor wasted no time entering. Almost knocking into you as she began her rant. Emerie walked behind her. Giving you a small smile that seemed almost apologetic.

"Okay. I can't take it anymore Y/N. Everyone has let you mope around for weeks. You've all but shut us out. It's time to get past this part." Mor's hands flailed around as If to prove her point. An argument was on your tongue but she sent you a withering glare.

"Don't even. We are going out tonight, whether you want to or not. You have been locked up in this apartment since you moved out. It's time to get out and remember the bad bitch that you are." She placed a hand on her hip, her expression daring you to get out of it.

Emerie placed a gentle had on your shoulder, sending her mate a look. "What she means to say Y/N, is that sitting here in pity isn't going to help you. We miss you, and we want to help ease this pain." Her tone was soft as she looked at me. It almost brought tears to your eyes.

You pondered for a moment as both females stared at you. Waiting. You turned the idea in your mind. You did miss your friends. You missed the normalcy from before. You let out a reluctant sigh, nodding your head.

"Alright." You said hesitantly. "I'll go out." Emerie sent you an encouraging smile. Mor had a mischievous grin growing on her lips. That was never good.

"Great! We're going to the House. I have something you can wear." You sent Mor a cautious look. Anxiety filling your chest at the thought of going back there.

"Is...Is he going to be there?" you questioned. You weren't ready to face him. Not yet.

It was Emerie who spoke up. "No. Rhysand sent him on an assignment first thing this morning." You let out a breath you'd been holding. That tightness in your chest eased up.

"Alright. Let's go then." You wondered if this was the right decision.

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

You kept tugging at the short dress that adorned your body. The black fabric had a V neckline that left little to the imagination. The sheer sleeves ended at your wrists, giving you a classy look. Paired with the diamond necklace that Mor let you borrow.

"Stop tugging at it. You look wonderful." Feyre spoke as you kept looking in the mirror. Feyre had decided to join the group tonight which made you feel at ease. You and Feyre were the closest besides Mor. Though you didn't see much of her since she and Rhys built their new estate.

"I just feel so...exposed." You muttered. This dress wasn't something you would normally opt for but Mor wasn't taking to your disapproval. You took yourself in again. Hair curled in loose waves that cascaded down your back. Silver shimmery eyes paired with red lipstick. For the first time in a while you felt pretty for once.

"Well you look hot, so get over it." Nesta commented as she fixed her hair. You rolled your eyes playfully. Nesta never was one to bite her tongue.

Everyone was essentially ready for your night out. Nerves shot up your spine as it hit you this is the first time you'll be going out without him. The thought made your mood dampen slightly. Mor noticed the change.

"Hey. None of that. We're going out to have fun. I refuse to let you sulk tonight." She came over, looping her arm through yours. "Now, cheer up cause we're getting drunk tonight." Her grin was contagious as the others began to hoot and holler.

With your arms still interlocked, she led you out of her room. Feyre, Nesta and Emerie following suit. You'd gone halfway down the stairs when it hit you. "Shit. Hold on, I forgot my purse. I'll be right back."

You turned as Feyre said they'd wait for you by the door. Running back up the stairs to Mor's room. You'd found your black bag on the vanity, quickly grabbing it. The heels you wore were already beginning to make your feet throb.

Closing the door behind you before walking quickly down the corridor. Feeling bad to keep everyone waiting. You rounded the corner when you ran into the wall. The force of it knocking you backwards, right on your ass before two arms snaked around your midsection. Catching you before you made a complete fool of yourself.

"Gods, i'm so sor-" Your words were lost as you saw who it was that caught you. Your body tensing so hard you were sure you'd be sore tomorrow.

Hues of golden amber stared down at you. His gaze raking over you, the dress you wore, your makeup. A slight frown tugged at his usual neutral expression.

"Azriel I- I didn't think you were here." You stepped back from him as if he'd set you on fire. His gaze still lingered on your outfit.

"Finished early." He huffed, not elaborating further. His gaze meeting yours as he spoke. Flickers of irritation and something else you couldn't decipher within those eyes. "Where are you going?"

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling too exposed in front of him. "Mor wanted to take me out tonight. A group of us are going to Rita's." You muttered, wanting to just winnow away at this point.

He said nothing as he just stared at you. Your gaze fell to the floor unable to handle the intensity of those eyes. You saw his hand twitch slightly before he curled it into a fist. The shadows that swarmed him were frantic, as if they were agitated.

The silence stretched on, tension building with each second. So much had been left unsaid. Azriel seemed to consider something for a moment. His mouth opening to speak before you cut him off.

"Well I gotta go. They're waiting for me." You rushed the words out before stepping around him. Hurriedly stepping down the stairwell, doing your best not to trip in your heels. The girls all gave you a weird look when you rushed to the door.

"Did something happen?" Emerie questioned as you marched out the door. You didn't answer the question.

"Let's just go." You said as you began the walk to Rita's

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

The bass reverberated through your chest. Drink after drink flowing through your veins. For the first time in weeks you felt free. You didn't care about anything as you danced with Mor. A thin sheet of sweat covering your body with each movement.

Laughter filled the air between you two. The others danced nearby, you didn't catch the joyful looks they gave you. They were so happy to see you as yourself after everything that had conspired.

You needed another drink with all the dancing. Leaning into Mor's ear telling her that you were heading to the bar for a refill. You walked over to the crystal surface, the bartender immediately taking your cup. You'd been here so often, they knew what you preferred. As you waited a handsome male approached you. Brown hair, green eyes that mimicked the forest after a thunderstorm. He was cute, but he wasn't who you wanted.

"I've been mustering up the courage to talk to you all night." He had a pretty smile as his eyes raked down your body. It felt wrong. "Can I buy you a drink?"

The bartender set your glass back down, sending a courteous smile. You held the glass up. "Sorry. Maybe next time?" You offered even though you knew there wouldn't be a next time.

"Well at least allow me a dance then?" He pursued, grabbing your wrist gently. Unease bloomed in your gut from the action.

"I'm sorry. My friends are waiting on me. I should go." His hand tightened on your wrist when you tried walking away. A drip of fear trickled down your spine.

"Just one dance, that's all I'm asking for sweetness." You cringed at the pet name. You took a step back again only for his grip to tighten again. It was beginning to be painful.

"Please, let me go." You struggled for a moment before a deep velvety voice broke through your fight or flight mindset.

"The lady said no. Now, do yourself a favor and let her go." You felt his presence behind you. Felt the anger rolling off him in waves as he stared down the male in front of you. The fae scoffed before releasing your wrist. At least he knew he wouldn't win against the spymaster.

You cradled your wrist to your chest, red marks from the males grip were beginning to show.

"Are you alright?" You closed your eyes for a moment. You had hoped he'd leave after this. He was standing in front of you when your eyes opened.

"I'm fine." Your response was short, clipped. Irritation at the whole situation settling in. You rubbed the red angry skin before turning to go back to the girls.

A gentle hand on your arm stopped you. "Talk to me." He spoke to you. All of the emotions you'd locked away threatened to release right then and there. You swallowed them down, instead letting out a scoff.

"Did you follow us?" You accused him. His eyes turned dark. His body language went stiff.

"What does it matter?" He countered. That stupid mask of cool calm overtaking his face. You felt the urge to slap it off.

"What does-" Anger swirled in your chest at his deflection "You have no right to be following us."

"If I hadn't, that fae would've had his grimy hands all over you." You were taken aback by his angry tone.

"That's not your concern anymore." You seethed. Suddenly, a scarred hand grabbed your upper arm. His grip was firm as he dragged you out of the club. Walking into the alleyway but you yanked your arm away from him.

"How dare you. You have no right to be doing this." Your voice was full of rage. Azriel's eyes darkened at your words. He stepped forward, closing the space between you.

He backed you against the wall, his arms caging you in on either side of your head. "No right? What do you think would've happened had I not shown up? You think he would've taken you home and whispered pretty words to you all night? Do you believe he'd treat you like a lady?"

His voice was low, a hint of the predator that he was shown through. His night chilled air and cedar scent surrounded you as he leaned down to your ear. "No one will ever be able to give you what you want, princess. No matter where you go, what you do, who you see, you are still mine." He growled.

Your knees felt like they'd give out. The closeness of him clouding your senses before you pulled it together.

"You left me. You were the one who decided to walk away from us. I don't belong to you." Absolute certainty laced in your words. Though your thoughts were the complete opposite. You wanted to give in to him but that wasn't right. Wasn't fair.

He grabbed your chin between his index finger and thumb. Your head tilted back to look at him. Heat roared in his eyes at your challenge. His thumb gently traced your bottom lip, his gaze narrowing in on your soft lips.

"I walked away because you deserve better. Not because I wanted to." He corrected.

"How am I supposed to know that? You don't talk to me Azriel. You never have. All you did was shut me out when something happened. You push me away thinking it's for the best but it's not." You argued with him. "I don't want better. I don't want easier. I don't want simple. I want you, you selfish illyri-" His lips crashing against yours cut you off.

His kiss was heated, desperate, full of passion. His tongue finding yours as teeth clashed. Both of you had felt the weight and hardship of being separated that it only made your reunion more needy. His hand that held your chin slipped to the back of your hand. His fingers tangling within the soft curls, angling your head just right to nip your bottom lip that elicited a soft groan from you.

He smirked against your lips at the sound. Claiming your lips with yours for what felt like forever before he pulled away. Both yours and his chest were falling rapidly as you tried catching your breath. He leaned his forehead against yours.

"There's no words I can use to explain how sorry I am. I shouldn't have shut you out. I shouldn't have walked away from you." He panted. "I love you Y/N. Nothing is ever going to change that."

Your eyes searched his for any sign of hesitation. That this was some kind of trick. Maybe even a dream. When he looked at you for some type of response, desperation in his gaze, you knew it wasn't.

"You have a lot to make up for." Your breathing was even now, and you were still partially reluctant. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll make everything up to you, even if I have to spend eternity doing so." His words were sincere. His hands reached down to the back of your thighs, picking you up with ease. A small shriek leaving you from the action, your hands clasping behind his neck instantly.

His wings flared out behind him. "And I'll start by taking you home. Where you belong."

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #angst #feyre archeron #mor acotar #nesta acotar #reconciliation #fanfiction

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wisteria-lodge · 1 month ago

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What do you think about how the Slytherin House is written and they don’t get like any nice ones? Some people justify it by saying “For kids” and they need bad guys. While others point out other kid franchises written during a similar time don’t write things that way and Narratively, it wouldn’t change the story much since half of the Slytherin’s don’t need to be jerks and Draco’s antagonism can often be given to other bullies or Des children.

The Doylist answer is that Slytherin is the "baddie" house because 1-3 are kids' books. Obviously not all children's literature has such simplified morality, but a lot of it does. But then the problem is... when the tone of 5-7 gets darker, older, and more greyed up... (Dumbledore, Snape, Draco, the Ministry get a lot more morally complicated, there's a lot more on-page violence, the writing gets a lot more flowery, the plotting gets more involved...) that bit of very *young* world-building stays in place, unchanged.

I actually think JKR may regret this decision on some level, and may have tried to walk back the 'All Slytherins are Baddies' thing. (If nothing else, it's not very good for marketing, if you're writing an official Sorting Hat Quiz and trying to sell Slytherin merch.) She also seems to have been okay with the movies framing Draco and Slugorn more sympathetically than the books do. In the Epilogue it's heavily implied that Albus Potter is going to choose to be in Gryffindor the same way Harry did... but in Cursed Child he's in Slytherin. We also meet Scorpius Malfoy, the only uncomplicated good-guy non blood supremacist Slytherin.

I am also fascinated by this snippet of an interview JKR did with Mugglenet, where she mis-remembers what happens in Book 7:

A part of the final battle that made me smile was Slughorn galloping back with Slytherins. But they've gone off to get reinforcements first, you know what I'm saying? So yes, they came back, they came back to fight. But I'm sure many people would say, well that's common sense, isn't it? Isn't that smart, to get out, get more people and come back with them?

Here's what actually happens:

Harry saw Charlie Weasley overtaking Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald pajamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight, along with the shopkeepers and homeowners of Hogsmeade.

So, not even a pure Slughorn moment, if Charlie is also there leading the charge. And... none of the "students who remained to fight" are Slytherins. (I mean unless you count Draco. Who isn't really fighting, but y'know.) The moment where ALL the Slytherins opt out of the final battle gets a lot of attention:

A figure rose from the Slytherin table and he recognized Pansy Parkinson as she raised a shaking arm and screamed, “But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!” Before Harry could speak, there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors in front of him had risen and stood facing, not Harry, but the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs stood, and almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward Pansy instead, and Harry, awestruck and overwhelmed, saw wands emerging everywhere, pulled from beneath cloaks and from under sleeves. “Thank you, Miss Parkinson,” said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. “You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”

And then a little bit later we get this second reminder that no Slytherins stayed behind to fight:

The Slytherin table was completely deserted, but a number of older Ravenclaws remained seated while their fellows filed out; even more Hufflepuffs stayed behind, and half of Gryffindor remained in their seats

So no, JKR, the Slytherin charge consists of... Horace Slughorn. and whatever Hogsmeade citizen you headcanon as a Slytherin. Madame Rosmerta. She could be a Slytherin.

I bring all this up, because I do think it's a sign that intellectually, at least at one point, JKR did think Slytherin should/could be a little more nuanced, even if that idea isn't there in the writing. But then... she's just also really, really fond of the idea of an infallible force picking out the Good People and putting the Good People in charge. That's also what happens in the Fantastic Beasts films with the qilin. So maybe it was always unreasonable to expect better framing for Slytherin.

But in terms of Watsonian worldbuilding... sadly Slytherin being full of "baddies" actually does make a lot of sense, because it's set up as a echo chamber that radicalizes you. Severus goes into Slytherin hating muggles, and after a few years there he's anti-Muggleborn as well. They use "pureblood" as a password. If you're in Slytherin, it seems like your entire environment would be telling you over and over that you're the specialist special boy... but you're ALSO not getting all the things you deserve. Sounds like a recruitment slogan to me. I have always thought that Voldemort and the Death Eaters work like a cult (or a hate organization) and not like a political regime. And if they work like a cult... then yeah they're going to be recruiting young adults from an environment (like Slytherin) that's already started the radicalization process.

If you haven't seen it, YouTuber Quinn Curio made an excellent video about this:

youtube

#hp #slytherin house #hp worldbuilding #jkr critical #watsonian analysis #doylist analysis #severus snape #draco malfoy

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conundrumoftime · 7 months ago

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My fellow Haladriels I do not know who has told you that according to The Lore elves can only love once, but a) this is not The Lore, and b) also in Tolkien 'The Lore' does not really work like that anyway.

In the words of Galadriel's grandfather Finwë:

It is unlawful to have two wives, but one may love two women, each differently, and without diminishing one love by another. Love of Indis did not drive out love of Míriel, so now pity for Míriel doth not lessen my heart's care for Indis.

What is rare is elf remarriage, and this is partly because of the absolute drama that Finwë's led to.

Also: the law on when remarriage is and isn't allowed is set down by the Valar in Valinor to the elves living there. What the elves living in Middle-earth made of this - if they even heard of it, and how would they? - is unrecorded. Many of us have written fanfic that plays around with a culture clash on this issue!

Also also: the Noldor do not always do what the Valar explicitly tell them to do Or Else, which is how come Galadriel and many of her extended family are back in Middle-earth anyway.

Also also also, and (for me!) most importantly: there is no The Lore anyway, in the sense that people citing it in that sense mean (i.e. a rulebook for this fictional universe setting out what is true and what isn't and how everything works). There is a massive collection of notes, thoughts, essays, letters, stories finished and unfinished and drastically revised, much of it contradicting other bits earlier or later, some of it managing to contradict itself.

Also also also also, much of what is there is in this posthumously published material is presented (explicitly or by implication) within a framing narrative of something reported by a fictional character - as indeed are LOTR and The Hobbit. For example, there's an essay on how elf marriage works as part of 'Laws and Customs among the Eldar' in the History of Middle-earth; it's very unclear whose perspective this is written from; it's associated with a narrator called 'Ælfwine', who in some versions of some Tolkien things is a human who wrote about what an elf called Pengolodh told him about the history of Arda. Also there are Vikings but they're not important.

None of this means 'The Lore' is not important - it's fascinating, I recommend it to everyone, there's some amazing stuff in there - but it's not 'important' in the sense of being like a list of what is and isn't True. It's important in the sense of being mythology, being a collection of texts we can write stories about and frown at and go "I feel like Melian is getting away with far too much nonsense here" about and occasionally send each other snippets of saying things like "fyi there's a version where Maedhros and Earendil and Elwing all end up in the flying ship together, thought you'd appreciate this one" and so on.

#tolkien #haladriel #now pls embrace the spirit of Finwe and ship and let ship #not even getting into Celeborn's other marriage or that thing about how wild elf sex is #or steampunk Numenor #Tolkien wrote mythology not a list of Wiki articles!#eyeofacat meta

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faynthearted · 5 months ago

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god I love rediscovering half-finished tianshan fics/drafts that I started years ago and completely forgot about. it's like I'm reading someone else's work and it's fantastic! there's so many.

in case anyone is interested, so far I've found:

a WIP named "leverage" that seems to be about guan shan having to stay at the He estate for his own protection against whatever mess the He family has gotten into. I feel like someone might have requested this a long time ago and I forgot?

another WIP named "p.s." that's about tianshan being bitter exes and yet somehow guan shan finds himself housesitting for he tian while he travels for work because he tian has a dog that they adopted together that needs to be looked after and guan shan still cares about it -- and, clearly, about he tian too. I honestly still like this idea and the writing isn't too awful... hmm.

a VERY primitive draft of desecration, probably written when I was just beginning to brainstorm. it's crazy to see how much the story has evolved based on this flimsy WIP draft. I'm half-tempted to post it just for shits and giggles even though it's poorly written

another very short, primitive draft of desecration, written from zheng xi's perspective

a WIP named "smoke and mirrors" for a switched family background AU for tianshan. I actually got pretty far in writing this (~7k words) and I don't remember a single thing about it. veryyyy interesting. I kinda want to post this one too, or at least one scene that stands out

a WIP (unnamed) that seems to be about guan shan conning he tian at the train station for some money. I'm almost positive this was a tumblr request, but based on the date/time stamp of the draft's document, I'm not surprised I never finished it. life was crazy and miserable at the time

and while I'm here, I might as well mention the WIPs I do kinda remember but decided not to pursue in favor of desecration:

a WIP named "patchwork" set in historical China, wherein guan shan (a potter/artisan) has the ability to see and manipulate (i.e. tie and cut) red strings of fate. he's commissioned by the he family to participate in a traditional wedding ceremony for he cheng. of course, he tian takes an interest in him while he's there. the only issue is that guan shan cut his own red string when he was younger, an irreversible action -- and, for some reason, he tian's is cut too. weird, right? yeah. but he tian doesn't know this, and guan shan isn't planning on telling him anytime soon 😌

a WIP named "arsonist's lullaby" written from he cheng's POV throughout he tian's childhood. I'm not going to say much about this one since it might actually be written/posted one day as part of the terra firma series...

and finally, a WIP (unnamed) for an AU in which guan shan is a retired police dog trainer/handler (??) who now works at an auto shop. he adopted some of the dogs that either flunked out of the academy training or developed medical issues that required their retirement, and the dogs hang around the shop while he works. one day he tian shows up and asks if guan shan would be willing to do some off-the-books commission(?) work. the he family business has a drug/weapons problem, and they need the dogs' trained noses -- and their handler's experience -- to fix it. (I'm still obsessed with the idea of the dogs being fiercely protective of guan shan. he tian not only has to earn guan shan's trust, but the dogs' too)

I love the variability in all these AUs/ideas. I wish I could work on them all at once but that's frankly impossible. but I'll consider posting a few snippets if anyone is interested! (no promises about the quality of writing, though!)

#19 days #tianshan #fay talks #I'm sure there's more WIPs/outlines in google docs or something but I primarily use Notion now. google docs was an organizational nightmare

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trentcrimminallybeautiful · 2 months ago

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💛💜💙❤️✨SOME TEDEPENDENT FICS ✨❤️💙💜💛

World on fire? Feeling exhausted? Want a distraction? Want to read some TedTrent fic for that distraction? Or do you just wanna read TedTrent fic because it's fun?

Boy Do I Have A List For You!

why did i do this? fun! why should you read it? fun! yippee!

First a list of some of my fics (I humbly offer up some of my personal favorites) and then a list of some of my favorite fics from other authors :)

some of gert's favorite gert fics: tedependent edition ! ✨✨✨ (in no particular order)

ink sunset - Rated: T; Chapters 3/4.

Letters, unsent and sent, between Trent Crimm and Ted Lasso over the years.

Notes: an older work, but a good one! An epistolary fic. Bittersweet, post-canon fix-it of sorts.

suffer the feathers for the song - Rated: E; completed.

It takes them a long while to get there, but they get there. The long way around.

For the prompt "first kiss/realization".

Notes: Queer love story, not-so-missed connections, and self-discovery. Love confessions, friendship, angst, mutual pining, and happy endings. Yippee!

zugzwang - Rated: T; completed.

Trent receives information he would rather not have, putting him in a position he'd rather not be in, and must decide what to do from there. There are no good moves to make.

Notes: Canon-compliant end of s2/pre s3 fic about Trent's state of mind during and after The Article.

lend you my lips - Rated: E; Chapters 4/???.

Trent confesses he's never actually given a blowjob before, and he'd feel stupid and self-conscious trying it with a hook-up or a date.

Ted, reasonable although tragically heterosexual, offers his assistance.

Or: Trent sucks Ted's cock several times, and Ted, being a gentleman, of course, returns the oral sex favor. Everything about this is fine and normal and neither of them are being weird about it.

Notes: One of my favorite ongoing WIPs. These fools get into a blowjob-based situationship; Ted is straight and Trent is totally fine about being in love with him, and both of those statements are so totally definitely true.

Ted Ruins Trent's Life (Sexually) (This Is a Good Thing) - Rated: E; completed (3/3).

A completely unnecessary addition to chapter seven of "Rupert Mannion Is Batman (He Isn't)", including:

A brief, more detailed Trent POV of Ted asking him to have platonic not-gay gay sex,

A brief Ted POV of the aftermath of said not-gay gay sex, and

A very much not brief Ted POV of all that very gay gay sex (yes, it's the same sex). ft. Trent POV of the aftermath.

Alternatively: Ted Lasso Has The Gayest Sex Of His Entire Life (So Far) and Still Doesn't Realize He's Maybe Not Straight For Like A Full Day

Notes: some of the best smut I've written, and it's a silly adjacent snippet to a deeply stupid (affectionate) crack fic I wrote a while ago. Figures.

unburied - Rated: M; completed.

A serial kidnapper who's escalated to murder takes a journalist who's figured out a little too much. Ted goes a little bit nuts getting him back.

Or: it's a jarring sight, a man like Trent Crimm being pulled from the dirt, flushed and frightened and in tears.

Note: we need more Trent Crimm whump.

off the record - Rated: E; completed.

Intrepid reporter Trent Crimm earns his scoop.

Notes: >:)

Notes: ok notes for real. A fun little roleplay fic getting into the vibes of "what if s1 Trent got his brains fucked out?" without actually getting into the ethics of it, because roleplay. Wahoo!

delayed reaction - Rated: T; completed (2/2).

Trent's always been prone to horrible, vague nightmares. The kind that fill you with deep, irrational terror, for little to no reason.

(Or: Five periods in Trent's life where he dealt with nightmares alone, and one where he didn't. Except it's far messier than that, really.)

Notes: I think this one's a bit messy, but I love the angst.

being right - Rated: T; completed.

Trent's opinion of Ted Lasso goes from utterly dismal, to slowly wearing down into something generally negative but with an edge of reluctantly impressed, to, abruptly, turning on a dime, something glowing.

Notes: Closer to canon; a look into Trent's thoughts on Ted early on.

I WANTED TO BE LOVED SO DESPERATELY / THAT MY FINGERS SHOOK WITH IT - Rated: T; completed (2/2).

Trent, and being sick, and being sick alone.

Notes: sick fic and hurt/comfort, sweetness and sadness, ultimately a fluffy ending that's more comfort than hurt

an odd sort of comfort - Rated: E; completed.

There's a fantasy Trent has that he tries not to touch. He fails.

Notes: Kind of weird, but lives in my brain. In which Trent kind of accidentally developed a virginity kink but specifically in the context of "what do you do when your first time really sucked but not bad enough to call it trauma you're pretty sure but you can't stop thinking about what it would have been like if it had been with someone who was nice to you????" Yes I have like three different WIP scribbles somewhere, no I have no idea if I'll ever finish them

some other tedependent fics recommended by gert!✨✨✨ (in no particular order)

slowly, gently, with love by confessionofaking - Rated: E; completed.

Ted and Trent’s first time as a couple wasn’t exactly the most romantic ordeal ever. Ted would like to rectify this the second time around. Or, Ted and Trent have sweet, sappy sex

read our constellations by ShowMeAHero - Rated: E; a series with several complete works.

And Trent’s not a mess! He’s not. He’s got his life entirely together. He chose to reveal his source and give up his position with The Independent. He chose to start chasing book authorship as his new branch of his career tree. He chose his flat, and his car, and his life, down to the brands of tea he buys and the sorts of people he spends time with and the sheet sets he puts on his and Beatrice’s beds. He’s an adult man, for Christ’s sake. Of course, he’s got his life together. Everything is under his control, and it’s all fine. It’s entirely, completely, fully fine. Taking one last steadying breath, Trent opens his eyes and looks over the line of seven tests on the counter: the first he took a few hours ago, and the six he just took since. Each and every last one of them says he’s pregnant. Some have plus signs, some have two lines, some simply have the word pregnant. All of them may as well come together to form a little sign reading, Congratulations, Trent! You did it! You’ve finally made a goddamn bloody mess out of everything! Just wait until you have to tell Ted! Trent’s stomach turns for more reasons than one.

Take My Whole Life Too by ItsClydeBitches - Rated: G; completed.

Ted Lasso was the kind of man who taught NSYNC choreography for a going away party and bent his players into impossible positions just to say “Hi, Boss!” in the morning. He’d organized fearsome bets over darts, baked heavenly biscuits on the regular, and had requested at least two boxes from Nate Shelley’s niece, one of which still sat on a shelf in his office, despite the betrayal. Ted was also a passionate believer in what he referred to as “rom-communism,” all the trappings included. In retrospect, Trent should have known he’d go all out for Valentine’s Day.

Independent by TheBasilRathbone - Rated: M; completed (5/5).

Trent Crimm might only recently be an independent journalist, but he's had no one to rely on but himself for far, far longer. And most days, it feels like he's barely keeping it together. So it only seems fitting that the conclusion to the worst period of his life is for the whole thing to go up in literal flames. Luckily for Trent, help comes from a (not so) unexpected source.

you found one song that you like (and you just play it on repeat) by Anonymous - Rated: E; completed (2/2).

“Ted,” Trent tries again, after he’s taken a deep breath, “I honestly didn’t think it was a possibility, but I’m pregnant. It’s yours, obviously, and I plan on keeping the baby.” There. That’s honest, at least.

better than life by confessionofaking - Rated: E; completed (2/2).

Before he can realize what’s happening, Trent finds himself on top of Ted again, this time sitting on his chest. His hands are gripping Trent’s thighs, and he’s looking at him like a man starving and oh. So that’s what they’re doing. “Wait, fuck, are you sure? No one’s ever let me sit on their face before, what if I—,” Ted interrupts him, “Trent, please sit on my face right now or else I might go fuckin’ insane.”

to seek solace by ShowMeAHero - Rated: M; completed.

Ted turns, smiling, hand lifting in a wave, ready to greet Trent properly this time, rather than in his ridiculous character. And Trent is still sitting in the exact same spot, unmoving, staring straight ahead. Ted waves all the same, but Trent doesn’t wave back. It’s like he’s not even paying attention, like he’s somewhere else entirely. Maybe he’s lost in his own thoughts— but, whenever he’s thinking too hard, he’s usually chewing on his pen, or fiddling with his glasses, and running his hands through his hair, or something. He’s a fidgety thinker. Right now, though, he’s just sitting there, abruptly motionless, strangely absent. His notebook and pen are still in his hands, in the same position he’d fallen into when he first arrived; he hasn’t written anything else down. Ted evaluates him for a confused moment before calling, “Good morning, beautiful!” Trent still doesn’t move. or: trent has an unexpected trauma response while ted is joking around. confusion, communication, and comfort are not far behind.

Architecture With a Human Element by ItsClydeBitches - Rated: T; completed.

“There has to be something,” Trent muttered, furiously scrolling through his feed. Each suggestion he found was debunked by the next post, with many parents swearing up and down that certain techniques made the whole thing worse. Trent stopped on a video of a mother taking scissors to her daughter’s curls and bit down on an actual sob building in the back of his throat. It was right before Trent let it fly that his mobile rang. Coach Ted Lasso (from America). Trent couldn’t say what possessed him to answer with his throat thick and his eyes prickling, but his traitorous hand had already swiped while his mouth said, “I have to shave my head.” Or: 5 times Ted got to touch Trent's hair and one time he returned the favor.

looks like we made it by hippiecommune - Rated: T; Chapters 5/6.

Trent knew relegation was a mortifying prospect for any team, and Jamie Tartt’s winning goal can’t have felt like anything but salt in the wound. It was a very sad day for Richmond, and Trent would by no means relish reporting on it. But there was really no excuse for Ted Lasso to have lost his mind over it. Or, Ted Lasso can't stop losing to Manchester City. It may or may not actually matter.

Just like bull riding by the libraryofdana - Rated: E; completed.

“I honestly don’t see how this will erase the embarrassment and humiliation of me blasting out in front of Rebecca that I had my sexual awaking by accidentally violating my teddy bear!” Trent snaps, flinching and shuddering at the memory of the awkward silence and condescending “Hey, been there.” from Keeley while all Trent could think about was the quickest way to quit his job, break off all contact, and live in a hut somewhere in a forest where there’s no way to reach him ever again. Maybe arrange for a hypnotist to rid him of the mortification of reliving the moment at Girl's Talk. Ted’s hands move over his sides, caressing his naked chest with warm, broad palms that rub up and down. “It’s called confrontational therapy,” he says as casually as if this offer, this idea, this damn fucking spur of Ted Lasso’s great mind, isn’t utterly ridiculous. or: Ted wants Trent to ride him in his teddy-form

The Lasso Effect by earlybloomingparentheses - Rated: E; completed.

Dating Ted Lasso is a wonderful thing. There are, however, certain downsides. For example, Trent no longer has control over when and where he smiles. He apparently cares about Roy Kent's opinion of him now. And he's been having the most ridiculous urge to tap dance. It's the Lasso Effect.

a man arrives on thursday by clementines_and_colorful_things - Rated: E; completed (4/4).

The capture of a friend prompts notorious outlaw Ted Lasso to take on the crooked leadership of Nelson Road, Kansas, with his motley crew of castoffs, cowboys, and criminals. When English-born historian Trent Crimm finds himself unwillingly swept into the fast-paced world of Lasso and his outlaws, he gradually begins to unravel the enigmatic Ted Lasso’s complicated ties to Nelson Road’s most prominent players. Tensions run high as Ted evades arrest and plots the downfall of those who have wronged him, and Trent worries that Ted will meet the same abrupt end that most outlaws do: with a length of rope and a rather short drop. — A Ted Lasso Wild West AU

#tedependent #tedtrent #trent crimm #ted lasso #fic recs #both mine and others!

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tubbytarchia · 4 months ago

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recently became insane about Smallidarity through your art, do you perhaps have any fanfic recommendations?

YEeeesss keep in mind I've read less than half of the Joel/Jimmy tag on AO3, I'm just not into a lot of it lol

Zombabe - Zombie apocalypse AU oneshot, a little angsty but mostly just sweet, love to read this one as a comfort fic every now and then. Just writes Joel and Jimmy's relationship as a lighthearted yet deeply caring one very well

7 Minutes - Very short one, also angsty and also sweet, about Jimmy becoming panicked for having the lowest time on LimL

Charred Paper Hearts - I have never played DND and know nothing aside from the basic concept, but even so this DND AU was a good longer read with a narrative that hooked me, and if YOU know DND you'll probably get even more enjoyment out of it. There's lots of characters involved in this one but it always comes back to smallidarity and it feels rewarding to piece together the story as you continue to read it in it's back-and-forth snippet format. Also just automatically gets points for having BigB, let alone in a major role

Take me First - And possibly my favorite. When I talk about my fondness for suggestive themes when they drive plot and character, this is what I mean. It's mature, nothing explicit but heed the tags. And god it's really good. About Joel being self sacrificial and what that does to Jimmy, angsty and really well written from a character perspective, has genuinely changed my brain chemistry

More hurt/comfort and fluff I liked: What bad boys do, thunderstorms; and a bit angstier: Fifty Minutes, Crushing Hard. The measure of your worth isn't explicitly shippy but is also a well written fic of them I like!

#This is absolutely not every fic I've liked but. The ones I've gone back to reread!! Aside from Paper Hearts cause I read that one like #yesterday #blabber

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inonibird · 3 months ago

Text

Sahuldeem Spin-off Snippet #1

Hey, did you know that writing has been extremely hard so far this year? Or doing anything creative at all, for that matter? But did you also know that for a while I’ve been noodling around with—get this—FOUR different story ideas that are adjacent to my Sahuldeem series?? And that, in lieu of posting something new that I've written, I figured I could share a snippet from one of these unfinished spin-off stories because it's Valentine's Day and I WANT TO??? This nameless work can best be described as: "An alternate timeline where Ronderu travels back to the day she died…and doesn’t." It is pure alternate universe frippery; self-indulgent, for-the-ancestors'-sake-give-them-a-happy-life goodness. The description in the actual word doc is: "Ronderu reality warping fix-it shit". This isn't how it starts, but it's quite near the beginning. Enjoy~

— — —

Ronderu landed in something cold, felt her feet slip and stumble, and plunged face-first into saltwater.

Spluttering and thrashing, she found she had not fallen far, nor could she have—she’d sprawled in the churning, knee-deep surf of the Jenuwaa, and though the waves rocked her about in a seemingly conscious effort to force her prone, her palms and knees found sand and gravel and managed to ground her. She still fought to haul her head and sopping hair above the surface, struggling to take in the sight of the beach that stretched before her.

The sea. The surf. The beach.

It all began to rush back with nauseating clarity, churning her stomach and souring her throat with bile. A vise closed over her chest and squeezed, a painful premonition…or rather, she recognized, a horrific, impossible memory. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

But then the pressure around her chest shifted in quality. They were arms, wrapping around her torso and pulling her up out of the frothing surf, up into a supportive grasp and the slight yield of organic leathers.

“Íb-ku huul!” a voice shouted in her ear. “First you yell at me about currents, then you fall in yourself?”

Dizzy, limp-limbed, she twisted her neck and turned to stare up at him.

Sheelal.

Whole again. Masked and magnificent in his clan cloak. The spark of youth and hope in his golden eyes. Nothing broken in his mind, body or soul. This was Sheelal as she had loved him.

This was Sheelal as she had left him.

She opened her mouth to speak but spat brine, instead. It occurred to her that her body wasn’t quite working properly—as if her spirit was not yet in sync with her flesh, her arms too heavy and numb, legs too unsteady and weak, jaw loose, vision tunneling, spine shivering as she struggled to be.

She didn't remember living ever having been so painful.

It must have been a concerning sight to witness, because Sheelal’s eyes widened behind his kakmusme and his arms tightened. “Ronderu?” he demanded, and his voice—no longer grating and distorted by technology, no longer steeped in decades of exhausting hatred—pitched up in panic. “What’s wrong? Hey! Are you okay?!”

Despite everything, Ronderu knew she couldn’t delay their forces’ assault on the beach without jeopardizing all she had come to correct. Internalizing her screams of frustration, she fought her own traitorous body until her hands balled into fists and her lips wrapped themselves around her teeth in the proper configuration. “M’fine,” she managed to slur. “Jus—jus’slip. Slipped. Beach. Get me to the beach.”

Dutiful to a fault, he shifted his grip and scooped her up into his arms, resolved to carry her to the shore. She almost let loose a burst of inappropriate laughter when he staggered under her weight; this was not the mumuu-built man he had grown into, but the lean, still rather scrawny Sheelal who had almost died from a ravaging bout of wet lung barely two years earlier. She loved every straining, determined inch of him, ear pressed to his hammering heart as he clutched her to his chest and forged through the knee-high waves, fighting against the drag of his water-logged cloak.

“Gods, I love you,” she found herself mumbling as his knees wobbled and dropped both of them to the damp sand. She felt his hands fumbling with and removing her kakmusme before his warmth briefly left her side as he climbed to his feet. He was shouting orders—delegating, so he could focus on what was important. Me, she realized when his hands returned, cradling her cheeks and sweeping through her wild hair, gentle but firm ministrations as he tried to revive her from he he surely presumed to be a dizzy spell. I’m more important to him than this war.

“—don’t know what’s wrong, if you’re sick or if something stung you, but I need you to try and get up. If you can’t fight we can’t have you here on the beach—maybe one of the others can try to land and pick you up, but I-I don’t think I can carry you somewhere safe, I don’t even know where you could be safe, we’re too close to the colony—”

He’s talking too fast, she thought a second before a wheeze interrupted his racing words and dredged up a few breathless coughs. Feeling a little more in control of herself, she pressed her palms into the sand and heaved her body upright with a grunt of effort. “I…I’m fine,” she shakily assured him. She gripped his shoulder with one hand, seeking balance as much as confirming his solid presence. “Sorry to scare you. I’m fine, I can fight. Deep breaths, Sheelal.”

He obeyed, relief oozing from his sagging shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked anxiously. “You still look pale.”

Ronderu allowed impulse to guide her, and she wanted nothing more than to embrace him. So, pushing back his kakmusme to expose his worried face—Ancestors above, he looked so young—she leaned her forehead into his and drew in a deep, almost delirious lungful of his kuu-lir.

It was him. It was really him.

She’d clawed her way through space and time to see him again, to bring him back to his best self, the self he deserved to be above all else, and the sheer rapture of feeling him threatened to overwhelm her with less-pleasant sensations.

“Ya igni, after all the grief you’ve given me, don’t you dare throw up in my face.”

She finally laughed, too giddy. “I-I won’t. Promise.”

#Inoni Writes #Sahuldeem #Star Wars #Qymaen jai Sheelal #Ronderu lij Kummar #Kaleesh #General Grievous backstory #The Dreamer and the Dreamt #AU #fanfic #Sahuldeem spoilers #notice how I put a number 1 up there?#until I can get myself writing/editing Sahuldeem again I may post more snippets #one from each spin-off #which I mean hey it's something #<3

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