#i did a very emotional reading of chapter 21

[writtenbyred]

Something Bad // A Matt Murdock x Reader fic // Slow burn

Note: Okay so I finally decided to post something I've had in my docs as a draft for forever, because why not. A slow burn matt murdock x reader romance with a whole lot of original storyline and plot building in this first chapter if you're willing to stick with it until you get the entrance of wonderful and rageful Matt.

Warnings: Reference to sexual violence/assault in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I have, since writing up lots for this story and planning it out and becoming attached to my character, seen other fics using an 'empath' OC, but I have become very attached to 'Ana' and I guess daredevil and all its angst lends itself well to an empath story so I'm sending this out into the ether anyways.

Go forth and read if you would like to <3 - Red

Chapter 1. Emotions.

Sat at a cold, metal table on a particularly uncomfortable chair, you looked intently at the person sitting opposite. There sat a young girl. In her file it said she was 21, but if you hadn’t seen that and had to hazard a guess, you’d have presumed her to be around 18. The way her eyes were cloudy with tears, her hands shaking slightly as she held them up to her chin, elbows lent on the cold metal, it all contributed to making her look younger - small, in that moment. 

“It’s okay, Emma” You spoke, edging your hands forward on the table in a subconscious show of support. “You can take your time, we’re in no rush”

Emma looked upwards, then. You watched as a single tear slipped from her eye, only briefly tumbling down her cheek before Emma reached to wipe it with her sleeve. 

“I’m sorry,” Emma stuttered a little over her words, her voice raspy from emotion. “I’m being silly, I just-”

As her words cut off mid sentence, you reached your hand forward quickly to place a comforting hand on Emma’s arm. The dark tumbling of vivid feelings - sadness, shame and fear, that you were already feeling inside your chest (or stomach, mind, just about everywhere? You weren’t 100% where the feelings of others ended up locating themselves within you) multiplied until she felt overwhelmed, having to shake her head with an exhale to push through them.

“Do not apologise. You are not being silly, and have nothing to feel sorry for. This is something incredibly difficult you’re doing, and I’m here to help you through it.” You grasped the girl's hand at that point, and in the way that you still did not fully understand, a wave of whatever calm you could find within yourself washed over you and towards Emma for a moment, and the girl let out a sigh as you watched some of that pain leave her. In that moment you felt good, happy that she could provide this sort of relief for somebody, even if only temporarily and not without an increase in your own anxieties.

“Thank you, I… I think I’m ready to talk now” And Emma’s words came at a perfect time, as a few moments later your head turned to the door, a soft knock floating through. 

“You can come in” You called out to the officer you knew was standing on the other side, and then the door opened. 

A police officer with a kind face stepped into the room, you had spoken with him earlier when you had first arrived - You were pretty sure he had said his name was Brett. He sent a small smile towards you both, and his empathy for the girl's situation shone through, even if you knew he would never be able to understand her emotions quite as well as you could.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to see how you were getting on” He walked towards the table and you realised then he was holding a mug in his hand, placing it down in front of the girl, he then gestured towards it. “It’s tea.” Emma reached her hand out to grasp it and looked to give him a smile in thanks.

“Sorry Miss Johnson, I didn’t think to get you anything-” You cut off the officer - still unsure if it was definitely Brett he had said, definitely something with a B - before he could finish.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” You shifted her attention back to Emma as she released the hand you had half forgotten she was still holding in order to bring the mug to her lips. She seemed more relaxed now, the awful panic of hopelessness and shame creeping in having dissipated slightly.

“So, do you think we’re ready to make a full statement, or?” He trailed off slightly, looking from Emma to you. You looked to the girl, letting the silence continue for as long as necessary, giving the girl the opportunity to make her own decision. You knew her ability to say yes or no had already been taken from her at least once that day, and you weren’t about to do it again. 

“Yes, I’m ready to talk now” Emma seemed to sit up a little in her seat, lifting her head higher in her decision. 

“Okay, great. I’ll be taking it from you, if that’s okay? We can try to find a female officer if you’ll be more comfortable.” Brett added, pulling the lone chair from the corner of the room to the table in order to sit in between them.

“No, that's fine. But, could Ana stay, please?” Emma’s eyes shifted to yours, and the subtle plea held within them was noticeable, even if you couldn’t feel the emotion rolling off of her. 

“That’s okay with me, If Miss Johnson-”

“Of course” You spoke to the room, and then to Emma. “I’ll stay.” 

And so you did. 

You stayed and listened as Emma spoke of what happened early that morning, when she had been finishing a night shift at around 5am. What had happened when the sky was still dark and Hell’s Kitchen still shrouded in shadows as she made the short walk through back streets towards a bus route. As she had been grabbed, attacked by rough hands who pulled her into an alleyway. You felt fear, panic rising in bubbles from her stomach, to her chest, to her throat. And so you leant forward, taking the girl’s shaking hand in yours when she’d faltered over her retelling, stopping to catch her breath through tears, the emotions intensifying as she worked to calm them. A subtle nudge from your mind, some quiet ringing in your own ears, and you saw as Emma’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, her rapid breaths slowing and stabilising, allowing her to continue on. You offered her a weak smile in encouragement.

There were many times in your life where you had hated the fact that you were capable of this. When things had become overwhelming when you were younger, when emotions would feel like they were strangling you in some situations.

You hated hospitals, always. The fear, the pain, the hopelessness from so many had twisted painful knots into your stomach, caused your chest to tighten and your eyes to burn, when your Mum was sick, you had avoided the hospital as much as possible, often unable to visit her. your own home, after your mum had died, now that was simply unbearable.

But in rare moments like this, You were grateful for your ability to take some of the girl’s pain away, even if you had to feel it in turn. 

Once the difficult conversation was done, Officer Brett Mahoney (you had read his name tag) had stopped the recording and explained to Emma what would happen next. Through this, though, and whilst they left the room and left Emma waiting for whoever she had contacted to come, You’s world was blurred. your body was exhausted, and a deep ache had built within you as you still felt all the painful emotions, now overwhelming your mind after such time. you had to stabilise yourself against the wall in the hallway for a moment whilst Officer Mahoney had gone to talk to an officer, closing your eyes to wait for the momentary dizziness to pass.

Hearing your name made you open your eyes, stand up straighter to face Officer Mahoney.

“Miss. Johnson, thank you for coming down.” His face was serious but the warmth shone through his eyes, as well as his feelings of appreciation, which washed over You like a hot shower, a momentary recess from the dark and cutting emotions you still had swirling within your. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it, but you really managed to calm her down. She was a mess before, understandably. I don’t know if we would have gotten that statement until morning otherwise. Gives us a much better chance of finding the guy”.

“It’s no bother, I’m happy to do it” You sent a smile at him, your head slowly returning to functioning more capably. And as much as it did take a lot out of you, dealing with the overwhelming emotions of these difficult situations and the police station in general, you really were happy to do it.

“We’re getting a lot of similar cases at the minute” He shook his head at that and a grimace came on You’s face. you knew that, you’d had to do this for far more people lately. “It would be useful to have you there in future.”

A wave of nausea passed over you as another rush of panic and grief washed over you. You stole a glance back to the room you’d just been in, only a few feet away, and you realised you needed to get as far away from it as possible. So you reached your hand into the pocket of your jacket and quickly picked up your card, handing it to Brett with a forced smile.

“Call me here if you ever need someone again” You spoke before lifting your bag on your shoulder and turning to head towards the door, as quickly as you could without causing alarm. On the way out you felt a mixture of anger, grief, happiness, and then some more fear thrown in for good measure, all flowing out of the people sitting in the station.

Once you reached the large entrance doors, finally pushing outside into the cool air, you breathed in a deep sigh of relief. Your hands anxiously patted at your thighs, leaning your whole upper body forward as you shut your eyes, willing your brain to just calm. The emotions within you started to simmer down, as the outside air filled your lungs, it seemed as you exhaled a lot of the pain went with it, and you welcomed that calmer feeling, though some of the dizziness remained.

You hadn’t always been able to do this. As a kid you could remember people praising your empathy, a kind warm child who always wanted to make people feel better, so you supposed maybe it had always lived inside of you. Not that you really understood what ‘it’ was, but it was as you got a little older that it really started. As you started hitting teenage years, it was… overwhelming. 

As other kids started being aware of themselves; feeling emotions more deeply, feeling embarrassment, starting to explore romantic interests - You felt it all, except not only for yourself. You supposed one of the first times you realised what was happening to you wasn’t normal was in 8th grade. A girl had come into class after a couple days away, her eyes looked a little lifeless, dark circles and redness that indicated she had been crying, but none of the other 13 year olds seemed to notice this, but You did, because as she walked into the room a pit opened at the bottom of your stomach, seemingly making room for the dark horrific feeling of a sad pain mixed with guilt, fear, hopelessness and anger to enter, taking You’s breath away. As it turned out, the girl had lost her father. That was the first time you had known what grief felt like, and it certainly wasn’t the last.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing it was 5:45pm, you’d spent far more time in the police station than you had expected to, and it was time for you to call it a day. You mostly worked alone, the card you handed over simply stating your name, and a description of Emotional counselling/Advocate/Representative to try and encompass the range of things you did for people. In reality this was everything from working with somebody to calm their nerves before giving a large presentation to, what you did far more often, coaching people who were scared and traumatised giving statements and later testifying in court. You were also part of a company who provided advocates to those who were vulnerable in any legal proceedings or meetings with law enforcement, but often once you had worked with somebody, you handed them your personal card, as agencies tended to pay jack shit.

You had desperately wanted to find any way you could put this curse some would call a gift to use, to try and help people if you could. You had too much experience of not being able to help people, especially the ones you loved, which was still eagerly eating away at you. 

Near the station was a coffee shop you’d been to a few times before or after similar trips, and as much as caffeine may not help the banging headache that you had building, in that moment you really didn’t care. 

On your short walk to the shop, the fluttering of different feelings inside you that you’d grown used to continued. Somebody on the phone was clearly in love, a warmth spreading through you as you pushed past the woman smiling at whoever she was talking to. Another was stressed, walking with purpose and tension in his shoulders which had passed through to you for a moment. You shook your head, willing yourself to try to tune it out for the moment.

You reached the shop, and headed to join the queue of people also craving their caffeine fix. 

You browsed the menu as you took shuffling steps as the line kept moving up, your eyes falling on a sweet caramel filled coffee, your heart tugging towards it. When you stepped up to the counter, however, you ordered a large black coffee. You had a guilty pleasure of sickly sweet coffee, however your life wasn’t so much about what you wanted anymore. 

You took a large gulp of the bitter and hot liquid that scalded your throat slightly, but it was better than feeling the remnants of the acidic feeling of panic you’d felt there all afternoon.

Back at your one bedroomed, simple apartment You had chucked your coffee cup into the bin, your body now slightly electrified by the caffeine content, of which you were glad. You expected the night ahead of you may be a long one, and the more awake you were for it, the better.

Grabbing your laptop, you placed it on your rectangular coffee table, taking a seat on the somewhat battered hard leather couch. You then pulled the laptop onto your lap, pressing the power on button.

Once the light finally flickered on and the screen illuminated, you opened up a document you had, very cleverly you thought, entitled Mom’s recipes. Scrolling past the few simple recipes you’d stolen from the Food Network, you came to the page on which you were keeping the information you had gathered. You bit your lower lip as your eyes darted back and forth to scan the things you had previously written.

There was only just under a page of short sentences, but it was a better position than you had been in 6 months ago, so you would take it. 

“Daniel - Previous chef at Le Frère Juste restaurant had been known to have fallen into the criminal network of Hell’s Kitchen, believed to be due to a substance abuse problem Mr.-”

You stopped reading that particular sentence, which was a quote from a police report you had obtained a couple months back through means that some would possibly frown upon, including the police that it came from, which meant that perhaps it wasn’t entirely legal. What you had been more interested in was the name attached to said report. One Officer Jenkins, who you had spent time trying to track down for more information, but was so far unsuccessful.

You weren't empty handed, however. 

At the beginning was the hardest, not knowing where to look for information,how to recognise the snippets of clues that could lead to more. But once you had finally gotten one name, you’d tumbled into another, then another. you should’ve been more shocked to discover the dark, tangled web of criminal factions that underpinned Hell’s Kitchen, but having lived here since you were 6 years old, you’d already seen (and felt) much of the darkness that shrouded Hell’s Kitchen. 

The names you had gathered were few, but you were hopeful one of them could provide you with information you needed. So far you had only approached one of the men on your list, who had been unable to give you any information about Daniel or what he was involved with before he had died. You had half expected that however, having picked what you presumed to be the weakest first, to test whether you would be capable of approaching them, if you could use your ability in the right way to cause them to fear you enough to hand over information. Information you may not have gotten, but the sight of the guy running away at full speed once you’d lightened your effect on him certainly improved your confidence in the matter.

You had attended some form of fighting sport since you were a teen on and off, completing a couple years of boxing, some karate, kickboxing also. You’d figured out that punching, kicking, generally throwing yourself at things in some way was a great method for releasing some of the intense emotions pent up inside you that spilled out from everyone else into you. However, you were not technically a fighter of any kind, so 6 months ago when you’d decided this was something you would have to do, for Daniel, you’d started taking self defence lessons, and then deciding you wanted something a little more on the offensive, you’d started one-on-one kickboxing. Of course, you hoped to be successful enough at using your ability against people, but you weren't stupid, and knew you were getting yourself into something dangerous, and thought it best not to rely on simply scaring gang members into not killing you. 

Even with trembling hands, you thought, surely a gun shot would eventually be on target.

Tonight, however, you were hoping for a more successful night. you eyed the second name on your list, and the information you had gained on where this Alex Peters would be this evening by doing some, as some may say, light stalking of Alex a couple of nights earlier this week. you’d known his favourite bar hangout, and after frequenting there many times, you finally got lucky and spotted him at the start of the week, and now you knew he was going to be meeting with some others tonight in Hell’s Kitchen. 

Planning on getting him alone, and asking him what he knew about Daniel, you slipped into your darker, more athletic clothing hoping to blend into the shadows. Once you had what you needed, including a small pen knife and mace on your keys, the only physical offensive weapons you had, the last thing you did before you left was pull up your dark hood over your head.

The air in Hell’s Kitchen was cool as an inky darkness had fallen over the sky, illuminated only by the light pollution spilling out of New York City. You sat crouched on a fire escape, one you’d had to wrestle with a pull-down ladder in order to get up on to. It provided you the perfect vantage point to watch what was happening below. You held a small digital camera in your hand, nothing special since you weren't exactly rolling in cash, however it took better quality pictures than your phone did. you weren't exactly sure why you were collecting photos of the criminal rings you had been tipped off to, or what you may use them for, but it made you feel like you were doing something.

Down below, you were watching 5 men interact. One of these was the guy who’s name you’d been given, with a possible connection to Daniel: That was Alex Peters, a relatively short man with a shaved head and tattoos littering his large, muscular arms and seeping on to his neck. Typically exactly what you’d expect from some sort of intimidating muscle man for a gang. Great, You thought, you weren't exactly looking forward to trying to get information from him.

The others seemed to be a mix of associates of Alex and another group. They were discussing something in tones too hushed for you to be able to make out what they were saying, but considering the fact they were a bunch of criminals attached to everything from drugs to murder, you’d hazard a guess that it wasn’t anything good. 

They stood within a half decrepit building, either a warehouse or an old multstorey car park of which only metal bones remained, You weren't sure, but either way the damage, which was presumably a result of The Incident, made for a great hotspot for criminal activities, but also thankfully allowed you a great view from your vantage point.

Alex started to split from the rest of the pack, and your attention peaked, quickly placing away your camera into the small over shoulder bag you had, standing yourself up, a little, in preparation. 

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, shouting back to the others whilst he walked in the opposite direction to where they were headed towards a car trunk.

He shouted something incomprehensible, and you started to move. your footsteps light and you shimmied yourself back down the ladder you’d used to climb up in the first place. you could hear your own heart beating loudly in your ears, your chest thudding as you tried to control your breath before approaching this man. For somebody with the ability to manipulate somebody else’s emotions, you sure could struggle with your own sometimes.

You pulled your hood over your head even further, more as a comfort action than anything else. Alex had rounded the corner of a half broken down wall, You watching the light from his cigarette as you circled round in the shadows, crouching hidden behind a large metal waste bin as you ran over and over in your head what was about to happen. You would approach as quickly as possible, the minute he turned the opposite direction and then… Well you hoped that some muscle memory from your far too few kickboxing lessons and the somewhat unpredictable emotional manipulation powers would come into clutch in the moment.

In the distance, there was the loud sound of the other men, clattering of metal as they looked through their trunk and laughed together, but you couldn’t hear that. The world around had slipped away, a dull pressure building in your ears that made everything around your seem slightly slower, it built further as Alex Peters pulled his old phone from his pocket, his attention now turned away from your direction, and the fullness in your ears seemed to suddenly pop, and then everything was moving fast again; too fast.

In a swift movement, you stood to your feet, and gliding steps took you suddenly right to where Alex stood. He started to turn towards you, a breath of an almost word leaving his mouth as he instinctively raised his arm to push you away, but you stepped back, and threw your knee up quickly, your full body weight behind you as you jutted it into his stomach, winding him. 

“What the F-” Alex’s breathless words came out quickly, but you couldn’t have him alerting the other men to your presence, because then you’d seriously be screwed, so you quickly reached your hand out to his shoulder, and let an intense jolt of fear out of yourself. 

The man before you went rigid, confusion seeming to pass his face before a look of terror enveloped it. You had felt scared more than enough times in your life, and still carried enough of that around to pull it from yourself and throw it into him. So that’s what you did.

A continuous pressure of terror sent between two minds, and soon it was easy enough for you to grip him harder, bringing your other hand to his opposite shoulder, shoving him back against the brick wall. 

“Alex Peters.” your voice came out more gruff than you’d ever normally hear yourself sound. It was laced with anger, and presumably adrenaline, but you had to keep it quiet. His stuck wide eyes darted back and forth between yours and the vice-like grip of your hands. He seemed to try to speak, but was unable to, so you continued. “I’m going to give you a name. And you are going to tell me what you know.”

He just looked at you, so you moved your hand to his throat, reaching deeper within yourself to channel more intense feelings into him. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead he gave a quick nod, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Daniel, Daniel Johnson. Do you kno-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as your adrenaline fueled trance was suddenly broken by the clashing sound you heard from just past the wall. you whipped your head towards the sound. Your concentration was broken, your mind losing its grip on the channelling emotions for just a moment. But it was long enough for Alex Peters to regain some of his composure, clearly finding his voice enough to shout out, and push you backwards, causing you to stumble over your own legs. 

Your eyes were back on him just in time to see his still shaking fist coming towards you, ringing in your ears a moment later as you were too late to fully avoid his hand connecting with the side of your temple. you doubled over for a moment, and suddenly the nerve endings in the front of your face exploded in pain, his knee having connected directly with your nose. you leant back against the metal you originally hid behind, the coolness aiding the heat burning through you. You mustered up the adrenaline to lift yourself up, going after him. 

However, as your fingers were just grasping his jacket to pull him backwards, your eyes focused ahead and saw that the other men were now approaching. your fuzzy mind had only enough time to pull into focus one word; Shit.

All of a sudden, with the distant sound of a soft thud, there was another figure standing before you. In the dim light, it seemed like just a shadow of a man. But all of a sudden, one of the men was on the floor, and the others were now focused on a new target. 

The new development didn’t keep your attention long though, with the others now running to throw punches at the shadow figure, you could turn back to Alex and throw your arms at him again. 

You grabbed his forearm, and let your mind kick into action in a way that was becoming more practised, more perfected. you threw your body weight at him, stumbling you both back against the brick wall, Alex’s back thudding roughly against it at which he let out a small cry. 

“Daniel Johnson, tell me.” Your voice was rushed, desperation sneaking through into your tone, your need for answers burning at your already gravelly throat. His eyes however were focused to his right, where over his shoulder, the other men he’d been with were either choosing to run or being beaten to the ground. His fabricated terror seemingly having found a new perpetrator in the shadow man. And he fought back against you, clearly desperate to join his fellow cowards in escape. You were pushed backwards once again, your smaller frame at your disadvantage, and for a moment your breath caught in your throat, the flash of dark metal catching your eye, the gun in Alex’s hand being lifted up towards you, but almost instantly, Alex disappeared from before you.

You could feel your shaky breaths coming back, faster than usual, the quickened beats of your heart in your ears at full volume again. The gun was gone from Alex’s hand when you looked back to him, and instead he was being hit swiftly around the head with it, knocking him sideways. you watched as the shadow of a man grabbed Alex by the neck, his other hand clasped into a fist, quickly connecting with the side of Alex’s temple. Once. Twice. A third hit, and Alex’s eyes had fallen closed, his body grew limp, and it fell to the floor as the man released his hold on his neck.

For a moment you just stood there, watching the back of the man clad all in black, your quick and shallow breaths seemingly mirroring his as his tight shoulders heaved up and down in steady rhythm. For a moment, he just stood there also. Still, unmoving. 

Slowly, he turned around to face you. You weren’t sure how you were meant to feel, having seen this man just take out 5 or more men in the space of a couple minutes, standing alone in an alleyway with him, but the large amount of adrenaline was clearly still coursing through your veins because you didn’t take much notice to how you should feel. 

What you did feel in that moment, though, was a deep seated rage. you hadn’t the functioning brain power in that moment to ponder whether that emotion was bubbling up inside of you or flooding out of the man before you. 

You watched him as he seemed to consider you for a moment, his head twitched to the side, and you tried to study him also, but the majority of his face was covered by black cloth. You took a momentary glance over his all black attire, the thin material splayed across his thick torso severely lacking in protection. Before he had the chance to say anything, the thick and red hot rage was clawing at her throat to be verbalised. 

“What the hell.” Your voice was gravelly, pitched low as you stood in some sort of standoff with this shadow of a man. You couldn’t see his facial expression, only the slight tick in his jaw as he slowly cocked his head in the other direction.

“Excuse me?” His voice was deep. It was rough and came from deep in his chest, which was still rising and falling in rapid respiration. You simply narrowed your eyes at him, reasonable thought and any sense of self preservation clearly out of the window with the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

“I said, what the hell, man” You lifted a hand to your hair, roughly pushing away the wisps of it that had fallen in front of your face. “I was just about to- well, whatever, but you jump in here and ruin it.” Your voice was somewhat hectic. 

With Alex Peters having run off, your chance of getting some more information about Daniel had gone with him, and at that moment, all of your negative feelings about that outcome were being filtered and thrown straight at the man before you. It seemed those feelings were mostly anger.

His lips seemed to press into an even more grim line, as he shook his head in a movement ever so slight, it may have been a subconscious reflex in his disagreement.

“If I hadn’t jumped in when I did then you’d most likely be dead right now.” He stated matter of factly, causing you to scoff.

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you.” Your hands rested upon your hips, trying to hide the way they still shook slightly from the man before you, an attempt to exude confidence, despite the way your heart rate was still racing. 

“I’m not sure I would call having a gun pointed to your head, handling yourself, exactly.” Although his lips remained in a line, his voice still grim, it gained the slightest lilt of teasing to it, and flames of annoyance built up in your chest, escaping in the way of a groan of exasperation. 

“I would have been perfectly fine, without you showing up and chasing away my- That guy.” Words flew from your mouth a little quicker than you could filter them, realising you probably shouldn’t be telling details of your plans to the stranger in front of you. 

“Sure you would.” His voice and the feelings that flew off of him held no ounce of truth. “You need to be more careful, what are you doing out here trying to talk to these guys?” His head cocked to the side once against, an almost questioning taunt to his positioning. 

His near chastising tone brought a laugh from your lips. 

“What’s it to you?” You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a small step back from him, looking him up and down from clothed face down to a tough black boot, and it clicked for you where you'd seen this shadow man before. You drew in a sharp breath. 

The Man in Black.

You’d seen the papers as you walked past the stands, you’d seen the news and heard local radio all talking about this Man in Black. A vigilante sort, who seemed to be travelling around Hell’s Kitchen and regularly beating the shit out of people.

“Well, I’m just trying to-” He started again, less gravel to his voice now he seemed to have calmed a bit, but you cut him off before he could impart his opinion on to you. 

“Stop it. I know who you are” He stilled for a moment, taking you in as you purposely rolled your shoulders back, standing a little taller before him, still feeling those sparks of rage flickering. “The Man in Black” You added emphasis to his given title with the lilt of sarcasm in your voice clear. 

“I don’t need to take advice from some vigilante, going around and spreading violence. You have no idea what I’m doing, who I am,” For some reason you hadn’t quite realised, a lot of vitriol was building into your voice as you addressed the man in black. Thinking of the many people you’d heard of him having fought. The people he’d hurt. How was he to know if the people he fought deserved it? What if it was somebody just caught up with the wrong people. Someone like Daniel. “You’ve screwed things up for me here tonight, I have a banging headache from being punched, and also knee-d actually, in the face, and now no information, so thank you very much, Man in Black, but I think this is where I’ll be bidding you goodnight. 

His lips parted slightly, which was just visible to you under the dim glow of distant street lights down the alley. It looked like he was about to speak, but before he could you heaved your bag further up your shoulder, a wince as you jolted your head with your movement, and spun on your heel. 

“You’re hurt…” His gruff voice trailed off, but you simply waved a hand in his direction, exhaustion suddenly pulling at your mind, and knowing vehemently that you did not need saving by some guy in a black mask. 

You continued to retrace your steps towards the ladder that led you back to your vantage point and a way home, empty handed. However, the deep voice stopped you again whilst you were only a few metres away. 

“Wait.” You tilted your head slightly back in his direction. “The name you said, Daniel Johnson was it-”

Anger shot through your veins, your voice coming out as more of a growl. “Don’t say that name” You simply said, watching as the man in black stood still, his lips still parted in question. But you simply turned and walked away, having had enough of the night. 

Your legs dragged heavy beneath you, feeling like logs as you battled each step. Now the adrenaline was wearing off, every step felt more difficult, and exhaustion was truly trying to pull you under the whole way back to your flat. 

As you walked down dark back alleys and hidden streets, you tried not to think about the fact that you’d had a gun pulled on you this evening, the cool metal of it still a phantom feeling against the skin of your head. Tried not to think about the fact that you could have died, and that for all of that, you still had no new information, thanks to the Man in Black. 

A couple of blocks from the location of your night's altercation, you paused, a heavy stone in your chest as you lent your head back against the cold and rough brick of an alley wall. A couple of shaky breaths escaped you, and much to your dismay, now that you were alone, surrounded by nobody’s emotions but your own, a tear slid from between your lashes down and over your cheekbone. You shook your head, and pushed off the wall with a kick of your feet, desperate to get yourself home. 

You pulled your jacket closer around your body, your hood still tight over your head, and walked quickly through the darkened and unsafe streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night, in the direction of your apartment. You kept your head down, trying your best to avoid any trouble. You didn’t think you had it in you for another fight of any kind this evening. 

You weren’t aware, however, that were you to encounter one, the man in black would be right there with you.

#matt murdock #fan fiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock fanfic #here goes nothing #sending this out into the ether

[notyour-valentine]

The Boy in the Window 14 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Chapter Summary: Just like Tommy wanted, (Y/N) leaves Birmingham with the children.

Notes: This chapter might feel a little slow, but it will set up the final act. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 5321

Part 14

[Previously]

She felt sore. 

It was the kind of sore that one did not only feel in one's muscles after a long day of hard work, nor the kind of sore that made the joints ache after spending too much time on hands and knees scrubbing floors. 

It also wasn't the kind of sore one felt in their head after trying to read in too dim light. 

The closest comparison would probably have been the way one felt going to bed only to wake up with a heavy cold, carrying a dull sense that something was far from alright. 

And (Y/N) felt tired too- so very tired. 

It was the kind of exhaustion that lingered too deep for sleep to fix. 

And even if she were to find a bed to lie down in, sleep would not come. 

For that her thoughts were too volatile, too dark and too terrible. 

A part of her felt like she was being held together by nothing but a few strings, already coming loose at the seams. 

Any wobble, any slight bump and they'd rip, scattering pieces of her by the thousands. 

It made her want to scream. 

Only she couldn't. 

She still had the children. 

Their innocence had softened her clenched hands and had warmed her icy heart in those terrible days past in which she had waited, alone and afraid. 

They had soothed her, at least a little bit, but today they did not even reach her. 

It was as if an invisible but impenetrable wall had made her immune to any emotion apart from the bottomless misery and terror she felt. 

For them though, it was a wonderful, wondrous adventure filled with curiosities and excitement. 

Even before they had stepped out of the house, they had been running around, giggling about buccaneers and pirate ships, never knowing what the black leather bag held. 

In it were necessities for a few days, as well as important paperwork and a lot more money than she had ever held on to at any given point in her life. 

They also didn't know why (Y/N) went back upstairs alone, making sure Emma had truly packed both Duffie and Mrs. Tatters both. The loss of any one of her stuffed animals would be a tragedy to the both of them.

Nor did they have any inclination why she had lingered in the hall. 

And yet the very concrete possibility of her not returning to the house she had been born in, the one her parents and brother had died in, was not the one that frightened her. 

It almost seemed dull in comparison.

They had considered getting the children out of the city as early as possible, but discarded that thought rather quickly. 

 If they tried to leave in the black of night, it could be seen as suspicious and that was a risk they couldn’t take. 

The Shelbys were Small Heath born and bred, but so was Mrs. Changretta. It would be foolish to imagine she no longer had ties to the city, old acquaintances, friends or just people that had grievances with the Shelbys.

And, as Tommy had confessed in the black of night, he had broken the bargain he had made with Luca Changretta by involving the police, which had catapulted them back to square one. 

No rules. No honour. 

It was a tightrope they walked on, balancing the need for their safety with the necessity of not hinting that something may be amiss. 

They simply could risk drawing suspicion of any kind if they wanted his plan, which already seemed insanely dangerous to her, to work.

A woman, however, and two children taking a morning walk was far less dubious, especially since they had gone rather often. 

So for a change, she hadn't cared for the questioning glares that had followed her ever since Finn Shelby had driven her home. 

Once at the yard, she had Curly and Mr. Strong to help her, whether it be with the bag or with the children. 

They said hello to the horses, before making their way to the canal. 

The two men lifted the children onto the deck before Mr. Strong helped her. 

When her heels touched the swaying ground, he held onto her hands, giving them a little squeeze. 

"Tommy's got a plan."

It was meant to be reassuring, but (Y/N) knew of his other plan, the one that would only be fulfilled if his first went horrifically awry. 

And it made her blood run cold. 

Thankfully, Emma and Charlie had a blast exploring the boat before playing "I spy with my little eye" as Curly steered the boat through the canals and away from the city. 

That way they had little time to pay attention to her. 

“I spy with my little eye something that is green!”

“But everything is green!”

“Dark green!”

Listening to their chatter, (Y/N) sat down on a box.

From here, she could rest her arm on the railing and watch the long strands of factory buildings give way to the storage units as they left the heart of the city.

Before long, they passed the one he had taken them to on Charlie's birthday, his shoulders made heavy by John’s absence. 

They had walked for half an eternity that day and now it felt like they had reached it in a matter of heartbeats. 

Only a few weeks had passed, but they felt like an age ago now- when she had started the day early to make sure everything was prepared for Charlie only to end it in his father's arms. 

And on their way back from here, he had held Emma with such tender care, she almost felt ashamed to have once thought that the very hands that held her close could possibly hurt her. 

Don't, she reprimanded herself, forcing her eyes shut. 

Thinking about that would only make it worse. But she also couldn't not think of it. 

She tried taking deep and soothing breaths to steady herself, while listening to the slight splashing of water against the boat and to the hushed voices of the children so that she wouldn't have to listen to her own frantic heartbeat pulsing in her ears.  

Oh God please, she thought, wringing her hands in her lap. 

He couldn't die, he simply couldn't, not with so many relying on him. 

But while it couldn't be an option, it very much remained a possibility. 

When (Y/N) felt the tears come again, she began to count. 

Trying to think of nothing would only lead her down the same treacherous path towards the grim reality of the situation, so she focused on keeping the numbers steady. 

Anything so that the children wouldn't see. 

It wouldn't do to spread her sickening fear to them never, and especially not when they were so excited at the prospect of a little adventure.

Fate and the Changrettas might soon ruin that and more soon enough without her help. 

So (Y/N) sat there, with her eyes closed and counting as the boat carried them further and further away from the city, into uncertainty. 

And she did not move until the boat came to a halt. 

"Tommy said we can stop here.", Curly announced. 

His voice, as always, was gentle and soft. 

When her eyes fluttered open, the light blinded her. 

Curly had taken them out of the city, somewhere deep into the countryside where the straight lines of the canals of Birmingham had been replaced with a wider river, who's edges were no longer lined with bricks but rather bushes, grass and rocks. 

There was no sign of buildings, not even in the distance. Instead, all she could see were the trees that stretched out beyond the riverbank. 

Some towered larger than buildings with stems so wide she could wrap her arms around them without being able to touch her hands. 

There was something intact about this place, as if it hadn't ever seen the sight of people before. 

Curly seemed less in awe than she was, setting the anchor before taking a thick rope in his hands. 

Without a single second of hesitation, he jumped off if the edge of the boat into the shallow water, or ateast that was what she thought. 

Only when (Y/N) leaned over the edge, she could see that there was something not too far below the surface which allowed Curly to cross with ease, to a spot where he could tie the rope around a tree to secure the boat. 

"What do we do now?", Emma asked, tugging at her sleeve. 

This was her first time on a boat and she had taken it in her stride. 

Curly climbed back into the boat, bringing half a puddle with him. 

“I’ll show ya.”, He said, bending down behind a few boxes and returning with a large plank in his hands. 

The wood had mean iron hooks attached at the end of it, which he secured in place on the side of the boat before letting it drop over the edge, creating a bridge of sorts between them and the riverbank. 

Confident in his own work, he checked it with his own weight, giving himself a nod of approval before turning back to them. 

“Alright, Emma, c’mere.”, he said. 

He picked her daughter up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a doll, carrying her over the makeshift bridge with ease. 

But despite his known strength and expertise, while she watched, her heart thundered in her chest. 

“Stay right there!”, she warned Emma when Curly set her down on the green grass. "Don't even think about wandering off."

Emma nodded, although she leaned to both sides as much as she could to take in her new surroundings. 

Curly returned a moment later to fetch Charlie, sitting him down next to Emma who hadn’t dared to move a single toe. 

As soon as they were together, Emma began to whisper and point. 

Now, with her, Curly only held her arm as he helped her over the rather wobbly path. 

“Can we go play now, Mummy?”, Emma asked, as soon as her shoes sank into the muddy earth. 

Her eyes were already shining in giddy anticipation. 

“Not yet.”, she warned, as Curly returned to the boat once more to fetch their things. 

“This is a good place.”, he told her, as she helped him with the bags and basket of food. 

All (Y/N) could see was nature, but Curly led them through the maze of trees to a clearing she never would have suspected. 

A few trees must have been cut off to make room, with their trunks laid out in an almost perfect circle. 

In their midst, she could see the ideal spot for a firepit, that by the looks of it, had been dug long ago. 

“This is an old campsite?”, she asked. 

Curly nodded eagerly. 

“They used to come there, they did, back when they were children.”

A gypsy camp then, or something close enough to make no difference. 

Her eyes narrowing, she glanced around. 

It was close to water, and quiet, far away from trouble. Even as a city girl, she could recognise the bushes and knew that, come spring, they’d promise to hold berries of all kind. 

If she had come upon this place at any time but now, she could have considered it beautiful. 

Together with Curly, she laid out a thick blanket on the ground and while he saw to the fire, she unpacked the food they had brought. 

As they had been travelling for the better part of three hours, the children had to eat, even if the thought of food turned her stomach. 

They, and Curly, ate their sandwiches and then the fruit she had cut up before curling up beside her for some down time after lunch. 

Wrapped in a second blanket, close to the fire, they seemed more than content as she read them another story. 

But they didn’t stay quiet for too long, eager to explore this new place they found themselves in. 

And it would have been impossible for her to keep them close even if she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around them and cling to them the way she had done when they had been hiding in Emma's bedroom, expecting anything and fearing the worst. 

“Not too far.”, she warned them, before letting them go. 

First, they rushed around the campsite like little detectives, but soon they got an idea. 

“Mummy,”, Emma asked, “Mummy, can we build a hut?”

She nodded. 

Immediately they ran off again, to collect sticks and fallen twigs, with Curly helping them with the larger ones. 

He ran some larger ones into the ground, leaning them against a tree. 

It created something of a triangular shape, with a gap in the middle big enough for the children to fit inside. 

She did not know if it was a conscious decision of his to watch the children, but she was glad he did. 

Keeping her voice calm and her hands steady, her face composed and her eyes dry in front of them had taken such a toll on her it made her bones ache. 

And his attention gave her the freedom to walk among the trees and drop her mask somewhere they would not be able to see, somewhere where she could allow herself to be weak.

Once out of their sight, her fingers dug into the wood of tree to her side, clutching the old wood until she felt the dirt and chipped bark gather under her fingernails. 

It could all be over now. 

He could already be dead by now. 

All these thoughts, all these worries were familiar to her after weeks of the vendetta, but they seemed more daunting today, especially now that she knew what legacy he would leave her with…what he could have already left her with - a child, a little boy who adored, admired and needed his father. 

The last time around she had wondered how she could possibly tell him, but Tommy Shelby had left her with a heavier burden to carry. 

And what if they came for her?

A vendetta was not just between individuals, but between families. 

Tommy had broken the arrangement. And now Tommy had betrayed him.

If his plan had failed, they would be out for blood - for Tommy’s blood. 

Her grip on the old wood tightened as she took a trembling breath. 

God please protect him, she prayed, I know he’s not exactly your church’s definition of a good man, but he’s done good…more good than bad. I think. 

It was not a very good argument, especially not considering who she was bargaining with, and what was at stake. 

But he’s not bad. He does what he has to do to protect those he loves, And you didn’t exactly give him an easy start, now did you?

She sniffled, wiping her eyes with a trembling hand. 

Charlie needs him, she thought. Charlie needs him and he’s a good boy, a lovely, kind boy and he has already lost a mother. He can’t lose a father too. 

That’s when the tears came, the treacherous, backstabbing tears she had vowed herself not to shed. 

You have to let him live for Charlie. 

She didn’t dare ask for her own sake. 

It wasn’t a good prayer, or a conclusive one, but at least it was truthful. Above all other things, it was honest - honest and desperate. 

She took a few moments to compose herself, wiping her eyes and pressing her watch to her eyes to reduce the swelling, and time to get rid of the redness. 

Still, there was no certainty, so all she could do was hope, as she returned to the site. 

The children’s little hut had come along rather impressively with the help of Curly, and they were both aching to show her. 

They even had her climb inside. From somewhere they had gotten smaller logs which now served as tiny chairs, making her feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland after eating the cake.  

“Well done.”, she praised, stroking over the back of Charlie’s head. 

Please, Lord, please. 

But since it was very crammed with her and two children, she soon crawled out again, on her hands and knees, getting dirt all over them. 

The stillness of nature had been her friend before, almost a blessing. When she had first moved out of the city she hadn’t known how lucky she was, but now the whispering of the wind, the groan of the old trees, the faint sound of birds that hadn't chosen to leave for the winter seemed treacherous to her, a calm before the storm, the silence after a catastrophe. 

Sitting down on one of the many upturned logs, she tried to smooth the fabric of her dress down with shaking hands, trying to focus on anything but the noise inside her head. 

The silence didn't help. 

But then it wasn't silent anymore. 

At first it was a distant rumbling, the kind (Y/N) couldn't place, so she had reduced it to the river, or perhaps her own imagination, but it grew ever louder. 

The realisation came all at once, making her jump up. 

"Curly!", She hissed, not daring to cry out even if she wanted to. 

It would only give them away, more than the fire already did. 

She should have realised, she should have known and stopped it. Now it was like a beacon, giving them away. 

"Curly, someone's coming!", She repeated, glancing over her shoulder. 

A frown came to the man's face as he got up from where he had been kneeling with the children, tying thinner branches into knots. 

But then his expression changed.

"Oh it's alright.", He told her with a keen smile and eager nod. 

"Only good people know this place."

She did not share his conviction, but what could she do? 

Run? She wouldn't get far with two small children. 

Hide? Possibly, but then what, and more importantly where. 

All too soon she could see the headlights glimmering, like torchbearers of doom. 

And she froze, too uncertain even to pray, let alone move. 

"Dad!", Charlie cried out, running towards him with open arms, having recognised the car before they could make out the driver. 

Tommy picked him up with ease, setting him on his hip and carrying him back towards the fire. Behind him, the car door remaining open and abandoned, deemed irrelevant in comparison. 

When (Y/N) felt her knees begin to wobble, she braced herself on one of the many felled logs and sat down, exhaling. 

The children’s voices still rung through clear as day. 

“We were on a boat with Curly and Emma and I tried to count all the trees but they were too many and then we played I spy with my little eye but until Emma cheated.”, Charlie rambled. 

“I didn’t cheat!”, Emma snapped. 

“Yes you did!”, he argued, before turning to his father. 

“She said she saw something blue and she meant my eyes even though she knew I couldn’t see them- it was unfair!”

Emma only giggled and shrugged, as innocent as an angel on Christmas. 

“But then we came here and we built a hut, a proper hut! Curly helped us, and you can even come and sit inside.”, he continued, the squabble quickly forgotten. 

“Will you come see?”, Emma asked. 

Tommy’s gaze followed their eyes. 

“In a bit, Emma.”, he said, “Just let me talk to your mum first.”

Lord help me, she thought. 

But the divine intervention never came. 

Instead, Tommy slowly made his way over to her. 

Only when he was standing right in front of her, did she lift her eyes again. 

“You’re hurt.”

It wasn’t a question. 

She could see the swelling where his bottom lip had split, and the way he was slanted slightly to the side with every step he took. 

A bruise at least, possibly even a cracked rib. 

“It’s nothing.”, he assured her.

Despite his words, she reached for her handkerchief, drizzling some water on it before she went to wipe the dried blood under his nose away. Only a little had remained, but it was still there, and doing this felt infinitely better than doing nothing. 

“No one’s gotten hurt but me.”, he assured her in a whisper. 

“Just me - and Luca. He’s dead.”

(Y/N) nodded, not sure how to react. 

The church had taught her to value life, and even without all it’s lessons, she would have felt uncomfortable to find joy in the death of another human, but relief was different thing. 

And she felt relieved. 

More than her body was able to show, maybe even able to handle, as she only nodded once more. 

It wasn’t right to be glad that someone had died, but maybe it was less wrong as long as someone else had died. 

But that was a question for a priest or a scholar, not someone like her. 

She’d tell him and say her prayers, serve her penance, but (Y/N) Hale doubted it would make her feel any different. 

Thank God, she thought, as Charlie pulled his father away, having taken him by the hand to show him a creation of his own. 

Thank God it’s Luca and not him.

~

It wasn’t a conscious decision they made, it just happened.

For a while she had been too drained and too impartial to make any decisions, allowing the children to take the reins.

Tommy hadn't fared much better and so it had been up to Curly, who had indulged them.

Only when the sun was already setting, did they wonder how they would get back.

“I’m not driving in the dark…not tonight.”, Tommy had whispered into the crackling fireplace over which the children roasted the remaining apples, having pierced them with sticks they had sharpened with Curly’s pocket knife.

Tommy hadn’t eaten yet, not a sandwich, not a bit of cake, not a slice of apple.

And yet he seemed to be more gathered than he had been the last time around.

He was focused, still. And his hands did not shake.

But she could see he was tired.

Perhaps because it was the first time he allowed himself to feel the exhaustion of the last few weeks, now, when it had come to the end.

In the end, Curly had taken the car back to the city, and with it the message that Tommy would not return tonight.

Someone had to tell the others he was alright, but something kept Tommy from returning to the city just yet and she did not want to leave him all by himself.

That left only one alternative.

“What if we float away?”, Emma asked suspiciously, kneeling on the bench, her nose pressed to the tiny window from which they could look out.

What Emma tried to see there, (Y/N) did not know.

In the absence of furnaces, of factory lights and street lamps, the only light source came from the sky, and the rest of the world lay in darkness.

“We won’t.”, Tommy told her. “There’s an anchor and the boat’s tied to a tree.”

Still, she frowned, as (Y/N) continued to braid her hair to make sure it wouldn’t get tangled.

“But if we float, where do we end up? All the way in the ocean?”

“It would take more than just one night for us to float to the ocean.”, (Y/N) told her when she tied off the ends.

Emma chewed on that for a moment, climbing into her lap.

Still, she frowned.

“It’ll be fine, eh.”, Tommy assured her.

I hope, (Y/N) thought.

She wasn’t too keen on this idea of his, but it beat trying to sleep outside in the cold, even if they couldn't light a fire in here.

“Mummy, do you want to sleep on the boat too?”, she asked, turning to look at her.

“I think so.”, she said. “I wouldn’t want to sleep out here all alone. I get all cold and scared.”

“I’d stay with you.”, Charlie offered.

When she looked at him, she saw nothing but devotion and loyalty in his bright blue eyes - those darling eyes, which she would never forget.

(Y/N) reached over and gave his hands a squeeze, knowing her attempt at a smile wouldn't be enough.

“That’s very sweet, but I think we’ll all stay here.”

With that, she allowed her eyes to trail over the small space below deck.

It had never looked to be a large boat, but she had not expected it to seem this tiny from below deck.

How on earth this little boat had held all the Shelbys at once, was beyond her.

There was only one bed, or rather a small cushioned bench that could serve as a bed.

Tommy lifted up the lid to reveal some blankets which seemed to be older than he was.

One glance at them was enough for her.

“We will not give them to the children.”, she insisted, her tone sharper than she had anticipated.

He picked one up, and turned it, as if searching for whatever she deemed insufficient about it, but he chose not to argue.

And so the children took the blanket she had brought to keep them warm. She rolled her coat up and tied her scarf around it to create a pillow large enough for the two of them.

For herself and Tommy, who had to make do with the floor, she used the age-old blankets to create a softer surface for them to sleep on, but only after adding the blanket they had used to sit on earlier on top.

It had a few stains by now, but she by far preferred it to any of the other options which had hibernated in the belly of the boat for Lord knows how long.

Best she could, (Y/N) tried to get the children ready for bed.

Thanks to the black leather bag, she could provide them with sleeping clothes, making Emma point at her and cry out: “You knew, Mummy! You knew!”

She did not correct her.

However, in addition to her nightgown and Charlie’s pyjama, she ensured that they both wore jumpers on top of them to keep warm.

Each of them, despite the complaints, had to wear two pairs of socks.

She did not want them to get cold feet during the night.

Once they were snuggled up on the bench and the blankets, (Y/N) knelt down in front of it, first reading the story, then saying their prayer before singing.

Dilly-Dilly was the first choice, and then the Cherry song. Charlie’s favourite.

Not wanting to risk missing another word, he was turned on his side, his head resting on his arm as he watched her, diligently mouthing along to the words.

“A cherry when it’s blooming, it has no stone.

A chicken in an eggshell, it has no bone.

The story of ‘I love you’, it has no end."

The words got stuck in her throat and she had to clear it to be able to finish the song.

"A baby when it’s sleeping has no tears to shed.”

With a shuddering sigh, (Y/N) offered the both of them a smile, before placing their hands back to their chest and leaning over to kiss their forehead, first Emma's, then Charlie's.

“Good night, my darlings!”, she told them with a soft smile. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Mummy.”

As soon as she was finished, Tommy dimmed the small oil lamp in the corner.

It felt strange for her to undress in such a small space, with the children so close they could touch her and him not far away either.

She too had brought a nightgown with her, but instead of changing into that, she decided she would probably be warmer if she slept in her normal clothes. So she removed her belt and clasps, only opting to change her blouse for a jumper to keep herself warmer.

Tommy did not have any clothes to change into and so all he did was undo his tie, remove his vest and belt, and get rid of his cufflinks.

He held them in his palm and stretched his hand out to her, allowing her to place her earrings and watch alongside them.

Then, he let the lamp go out, dousing the boat in near complete darkness.

“Oh-oh.”, she heard Emma whisper.

“It’s alright, my darling.”, she assured her, only to feel a small hand searching in the dark for her.

Shifting closer to their bench, she let Emma’s hand clutch hers, holding her arm up.

That way, however, she had moved away from the layer they had made for her and Tommy.

In the darkness it was less that she could see his movement, but more that she could sense him pulling the pile of blankets closer.

Then he sat down, his back leaning against the wall.

(Y/N) drew circles on the palm of Emma’s hand until she could hear her breathing relax and felt her fingers slack.

In her mind, she counted to three hundred, before as gently as if she was difusing a bomb, placed her hand back onto the bench.

She moved in slow motion as she settled down, realising that Tommy had only waited for her.

With all the good blankets given to the children, and the others cushioning the floor, she had mentally prepared herself for a chilly night.

But then she felt the weight and warmth of something on her, first on her legs, then all the way on her shoulders too.

She fabric was coarser than the blankets, and heavier too, but the inside was laced with something softer.

In the end it was more the smell of his cigarette smoke than the fabric that gave it away for what it was.

“What about you?”, she whispered out into the darkness, her voice barely audible as not to wake the children, as her hands ran along the collar of his coat.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll get cold.”

The darkness made her cautious as she reached out.

Her fingers brushed against his side and she pulled back as if she had burned herself.

But then she shifted closer towards him, now knowing where to find him.

It wasn’t right for him to get cold, especially since he had given her his coat for warmth.

“If we turn it,”, she suggested, “it will cover both our chests.”

“Or you just come closer.”

His words cut like a knife and (Y/N) was glad he could not see her face.

She bit her lip until the pain made her focus.

It would only make things harder, but at the same time she did not want him to get ill.

What damage could this do? Genuinely?

They had shared a bed for weeks, had slept in each other’s arms, had found comfort in each other’s embrace.

But that had been before…

Still, she found herself nessling closer towards him.

His arm found hers shoulders and drew her onto his chest.

At least that way, she would not feel cold, and neither would he, but the fact that he held her, and the fact that she could hear his heartbeat, made her own chest burn.

For a few minutes he only held her, and they both listened to the soft, steady breaths of their children.

But then he dared to speak again, his words warm against her ear.

“It was Arthur.”, he whispered. “Arthur who did it.”

(Y/N) nodded.

Arthur was the eldest, and he had been closest with John, especially after the war.

If anyone had to do it, it was right that it was him.

“Arthur did it.”, he said once more, his chest inflating from the deep inhale.

“And it’s over.”

She forced her eyes shut and buried her head in his chest.

His shirt smelled of smoke and gin, of his soap, of green grass - of him.

By now she’d recognise the scent of his shaving cream anywear, but he had said it and it was the truth.

It was over.

End of Part 14

~

Part 15

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind!

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#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Thomas Shelby Imagine #The Boy in the Window #valentineswritings

[angeart]

fic recs

speaking of fanfic tropes, i was meaning to make a post about my absolutely favoritestest fics that live in my heart rent free.

in no particular order:

• you came at the brink of the end of the world

[AO3 link] - by anonymous

currently unfinished at 84k words and 21/? chapters

insane about this one. insane. it's beautifully written and scar calls grian trouble (best thing ever and nobody can convince me otherwise) and grian is a bundle of unknown magic and memory loss and trauma and it's just overall great. trust me.

this is from the official fic description:

[grian is falling from the sky, scar has more magic in his blood than he realized, and everyone else is so much better at seeing than they are]

tags include strangers to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, memory alteration, pining, found family...

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• and like an arrow, you broke me down.

[AO3 link] - by mochiwrites

currently unfinished at 81k words and 14/? chapters

traumatised sad birb grian gets thrown straight from the grief of 3rd life into the middle of last life. of course the first thing he does is get away from southlands (martyn???) and beelines for scar. there's confusion and emotional damage and man. it hits hard and it's wonderful and i absolutely love this one. also a beautifully written fic (yes i'll say this for all of these bECAUSE THEY ARE!)

tags include angst, hurt/comfort, PTSD, survivor guilt, protective scar/grian, touch-starved scar, and canon typical things like violence and referenced suicide

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• closer to another shore

[AO3 link] - by remrose

currently finished at 56k words and 15/15 chapters

this one is sooo heartfelt and heartwrenching and sad and good and. it just makes you feel things. the way they delicately navigate around each other. the way it all goes up in flames anyway because they can't have it any other way. the way their steps keep bringing them inevitably back together.

scar and grian start as exes, with the circumstances of their break up murky and mysterious. and scar needs help, and grian offers himself.

there's a lot of pain and guilt and weakness (because how can they help but be weak towards each other?) it's wistful and tragic and hopeful. it's. it's something. (and did i mention it's beautifully written?) (it is) (just go read it really.)

(i'll also throw this bait at you. this bit. this: Grian was the absolute most infuriating man Scar knew. It was a shame he loved him to death.)

tags include soul bound, mating rituals, panic attacks and anxiety, hurt/comfort, chronic illness, insomnia, guilt, slow burn

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• lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart)

[AO3 link] - by definitelynotshouting

currently unfinished at 51k words and 9/? chapters

this one. THIS ONE. gosh where do i even begin. there are some deep, raw, self destructive feelings here. grian is a watcher in the sense that he is a creature that feeds on emotions, and he's dangerous and starving, and things have gone so very wrong. he just doesn't want to hurt anyone ever again. he's going to do everything he can to take himself out of the picture just to prevent that. (yeah this one is HEAVY.)

the writing. the writing. it's so so so beautiful. i know i keep gushing about the same thing for all of these fics, but. there's something so intricate and pretty in the way the words are woven in this one. i'm absolutelly entraced by the language. it's so pretty.

this is the hunger au if any of you are familiar with that name.

like i said, this one is a whole different kind of heavy. tags include angst, hurt/comfort, suicide attempt, starvation, eating disorders, body horror, trauma, self-harm, injury... (the light at the end of the tunnel is the recovery tag mkay)

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if you go read any of them, make sure to look over AO3 ratings and warnings and tags for cw/tw stuff!

#ange rambles #fic recs #my absolute favourites #these are wonderful i promise #S tier

[shwarmii]

You know the books and like Clarisse and I haven't read the books yet, so maybe you can explain something for me? They say the gods don't always claim their kids especially if they don't have 'glory' yet, and they say (and I see on tumblr) that Ares doesn't like his girls, and he's overly mean and almost abusive to Clarisse, but she's HIS.

Does it ever say when/why he claimed her? Was it a possession thing even though he doesn't at first like her or approve of her? Did she do something special and he went yup that's my kid I guess?

this ask is referencing this post

oooooh, okay, uh... important things to note: (1) i have chronic memory loss, (2) i havent read these books in years, so let's see how i do from what i remember lmao

regardless, thank you for asking me a question! very sweet that you thought id have the answer

the answer will be a bit of a spoiler in terms of world-building, so lemme just

⚠️ pjo world-building + mild plot spoilers below ⚠️

so, the last book in the first series ("Percy Jackson and the Olympians") reveals most of the unclaimed kids are actually the demigod children of minor gods

these minor gods were implied to have been fearful of what might happen to their kids if their kids were claimed. because then, their kid would need their own cabin, and a minor god getting a set-up right next to the big 12 could cause anyone in said big 12 to percieve that act as a slight, and might take out that fury on either the said minor god in question OR their newly claimed kid. not even Hestia had a cabin for her kids, and she used to be in the main 12 until she stepped down for Dionysus to be amongst the big 12 instead (when the minor gods are allowed cabins, she gets cabin 21). Percy Jackson is the one who makes the demand that every god claims their kid within a time-frame of arriving at Camp Halfblood, which then gives the minor gods a pass to claim their kid without being worried they or their child will be punished for doing so

Riordan makes this a very small reveal, considering how important it is. but Percy isn't friends with any unclaimed kids really, all the people Percy meets who are new to Camp get claimed within the book they are introduced in. so there's no one to really be our emotional throughline for that reveal, nobody for fans to theorize who such-and-such's godly parent might be. it takes up only a few paragraphs, unfortunately, not much; definitely not a full chapter. i dont remember if there were any stragglers from the big 12's kids who had been unclaimed up to that point? i dont think there were many, if any. it sets up and disillusions in one go that the whole "you get claimed if you are worthy" as having been an assumption the kids made to find "logic" (in a self-deprecation way, similar to how divorced kids or kids of a single parent may "logic" their parental situatuon as their own fault) to their unclaiming

however, the toxic notion of "achieve glory = godly parental attention" is still prevelant in the claimed kids too. it is why Clarisse targets Percy; he comes into camp having already fought a minotaur and won? him doing that sets off her insecurities about not being worthy and makes her jealous, which is why she goes after him so often before Percy's first quest. there's very few chances for kids at camp Halfblood to prove themselves, unless they leave; and they only can leave by either sneaking out (and dying, or at least risking death) or going on a quest (which also risks their deaths). so any chance to prove themselves for glory, in friendly or unfriendly ways, is highly covetted

i mention this because Clarisse HAS proven herself to her dad in some way. her electric spear is from Ares. now, because we dont get a lot of gossip about WHY Ares gave her a gift (esp since he isnt the gift-giving sort. he values violence/battle prowress, strategy, and victory (regardless of if that is an "honorable victory" or not)). she likely proved herself in an above-average way from her cabin-mates but not in a legendary way. if it had been legendary, we wouldve heard about how she got her spear when people were warning Percy about Clarisse. and we know Clarisse didn't earn her spear as a reward for a quest (or as "good luck" gift before a quest), because Clarisse's first quest comes in a later book. but yeah, makes it all the harsher in this world where it is so hard to get godly parental attention that Percy broke the one token of it that Clarisse had (and, no, Ares never replaced it. tho Clarisse does get a new spear called "Maimer"; but all the kids, including her cabin-mates, call it "Lamer" behind her back unfortunately), and Percy breaking her spear definitely adds to her hatred of him. so Clarisse HAS proven herself to her dad once. and it is unlikely that she did something so great that he claimed her and gave her a spear in one go. so the two (her being claimed and her getting the spear) are likely unrelated events

now, did she prove herself in order to get claimed? perhaps. the big 12 gods tend to claim their kids as a reward within their first year or less of being there (fucked up that Poseidon chose "good job humilating that Ares girl who misdirected her anger to be at you" for Percy's, but okay). it isnt until Percy Jackson wins the war that he demandingky bargins for all gods to claim their kids. but yeah, out of the big 12 (minus the Big Three, minus Artemis, and minus Hera = 7 gods), they all are decently prompt when it comes to their own kids. they are implied ot have been, at least. again, very few stragglers, if any, that were not the demigods of minor gods within the books

Dionysus especially was prompt (bc he is AT the camp). which, i know this is a tangent, but i gotta talk about Dionysus as a godly parent because the books barely do. but part of his punishment regarding being exiled to Camp Halfblood isnt just about his punishment being no throwing parties and no Olympus. his punishment is his own kids, and not in the way that initially sounds. Camp Halfblood kids dont live long. theyre considered lucky to make it to college-age, and absurdly lucky to get to their 30s. Percy himself never imagines himself getting older. this fucked up lifespan is resolved in many ways thanks to the "Heroes of Olympus" series. but, before then? Dionysus' exile is about being forced to be a present figure in his kids' life and watch them all die tragically young, being forced to help bury them. he's actually very traumatized from it all. he even begs Percy at one point to keep an eye out for any Dionysus kids during the war's final battle; and he even runs up to some of his kids who survived (i think? it was his twin girls?) and hugs them, crying. we dont get to know any of Dionysus' kids through virtue of none of them being friends of Percy, so we don't get to really know how Dionysus is like as a parent, especially as a godly one that is very present in his kids' lives. we get glimpses of him in the background, and for a guy who misdirects all his bitter anger about his exile onto the campers who are not his kid... he sounds lovely to his own kids? idk, thats at least from what i remember. shitty and bitter to other kids at camp, very loving in a quiet and traumatized way to his own. its not an excuse but it does make sense. (its also why he hates Percy; his presence means dangerous things will happen as long as he is alive, which therefore puts his own kids in danger. ...maybe thats why Percy isnt friends with any of Dionysus' kids, maybe he forbade them from getting close to Percy? idk)

but yeah, the big 12 are all p good about claiming their kids in the book, in retrospect once its revealed that the unclaimed children are largely the minor gods' kids. the timeline Percy forces them into does demand they somewhat untangle the "claimed as a reward" aspect too which is nice, they now just have to claim their kids p much as they are (unless their kid doesnt something great FAST), and not during a moment where it is good for the godly parent's image to be associated with this "moment of glory"

that being said, that doesn't mean Ares is a good dad in the books. the one moment we do see Ares and Clarisse together is in a later book, and she is uncomfortable in his presence and one time even flinches around him. i dont think Ares physically abuses his kids, mostly because i dont think he is present enough in any of his kids' lives to find a fucked up "reason" to hit them (i would not be surprised if the flinch and whatnot was from a sparring match gone too rough the last time they met tho). i think it is more so a flinch because Mrs. La Rue likely has gone after similar men to Ares, therefore making visual markers of Ares (eg. a leather jacket, motorcycle, etc) triggers to Clarisse's mind to be on guard as these other men have been unpredictable and/or abusive; and Ares hasnt been around Clarisse enough for her to trust him not to be the same nor does she trust him enough to be comfortable in general around him (as it's an Event when her dad shows up, not just some Tuesday). and that's in the books. thats not accounting for the tv show deciding "Clarisse will never be good enough to Ares because she is not one of his sons" (which i think makes sense in a representation point of view; but i also think it makes less sense sense about Ares specifically. because Athena is also a god of war, and theres even evidence that Aphrodite is/was a god of war when she was initially worshipped, so Ares is aware of women being equal and capable; Ares was also the patron of Sparta, which was the city-state with the most rights for women, one of which was that it was only one that allowed women to protect themselves against their husbands. and you could also argue, due to some of his actions in his legends, that Ares protected mistreated women. however, "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" states that Olympus' move to New York meant that the gods changed to better reflect their enviroment, and Ares is the most likely best-fit to represent the Western/American brand of toxic masculinity. so. his depiction in the books works well enough for a man still in an affair with Aphrodite who upholds glory in battle as the pinnacle of human greatness, and his built-up depiction in the show to be more abusive and sexist does and doesnt make sense. i care more about representation and a good story than i do have Ares be academically perfect to how we understand his lore to have made him out to be, personally). but yeah, in both versions, he's been set up as a shitty dad. he's inattentive and lacking self-awareness at best (and, again, is still actively having an on/off affair with Aphrodite, which no doubt complicates his kids' feelings for him the same way any irl dad cheating and/or paying more attention to his girlfriend than to his kids would) in the books. which does then feed into Clarisse's relationship with him. Ares, like many of the gods, sees their kids as extentions or representations of themselves. so its good when things are good and you make them proud, but then anything you do badly then "reflects badly on them too" which can be really damaging to a kid

the only gods we see as exempt from this mindset of extension/representation (other than obviously Hera and Artemis, as neither have any biological demigod children. Artemis does have her mistresses of the hunt tho) is arguably Dionysus as aforementioned, kind of Poseidon as he keeps trying to connect with Percy (also maybe Hades for the same? we don't see him a lot, so it is hard to tell), as well as Apollo kind of? Apollo had his initial personality kind of backtracked and retroactively better-dad-ified, as he got his own POV book series ("The Trials of Apollo"), which includes a very heartfelt scene for when he got reunited with his son, Will Solace. so the gods arent terrible parents with all the same ideaologies, but they are absent more than they are present (with the exception of Dionysus, whose punishment is to be present and get attached 💔 not an encouraging move, guys)

which brings up another important point: that we dont really get other points of view in the first series, Percy is all we get. and though Clarisse is his ally (i love that Riordan did not have her betray the camp for the war in the first series. she just doesnt fucking like Percy lol), she is his most argumentative ally. in order for the reader to know Clarisse's backstory and know if she had to earn her claiming or not (which again: i dont think she had to. she may have been manipulated to think she did tho via the whole "i will claim you as a reward/i will claim you when it makes me look good and i can have some of your spotlight" bit), as well as learn how she earned her electric spear from Ares that Percy broke, Clarisse or someone close to her would have to sit down and tell Percy about it. and Clarisse wouldnt do that because she is not close with Percy; and nobody close to Clarisse would do that because they know Clarisse would feel betrayed if they talked about her private stuff to anybody, Percy or otherwise. all we really know about Clarisse La Rue's backstory is she was born in Phoenix, Arizona; and the satyr who led her to Camp Halfblood was Gleeson Hedge. that's it.

and i have a lot of complaints about how Rick Riordan writes (mostly how he writes women and people of color, especially women of color. but other parts of his writing does suck too). and part of the novel aspects of the new show is it allows "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" have a new re-write with a team of writers (which does still include Riordan), so there are likely things that will be changing. hopefully, unclaimed children will have a spotlight (i would love to have a show-exclusive character be unclaimed, but thats unlikely to happen). again, i havent seen the show yet, but it is possible that they will not follow the books in the aforementioned claiming details and will instead go "no, all claimings happen in a moment of glory", rather than "it was going to happen if you were a kid of the main 12 regardless, and we are just waiting to do it when it most looks good for us to announce you are ours". maybe they will explain the circumstances around Clarisse's claiming and spear, i dunno. the first series of books are all written in First Person POV and limited to just Percy's, and the nature of television is to be more Third-Person Omniscient, so there is a good chance we will learn things outside of what Percy knows this time around

but yeah! that's the climate around claiming and parenthood at Camp Halfblood, which even impacts claimed kids post-claiming; and everything we know about Clarisse past and her relationship with Ares before Percy Jackson arrives (at least in the books, lol) if you read this far, i do apologize that this is very long and that i kind of meander into some tangents. i have a habit of overexplaining. however, i hope that makes sense!✌️

#never did i imagine id get asked a clarification question on pjo lmao #didnt mind it tho! thanks for the fun time ♡ #clarisse la rue #percy jackson show #percy jackon and the olympians #ares pjo #pjo ares

[bad-fucking-omens]

The Witch Twin (Alec V. x OC) - Chapter 21 - Anniversary

Summary: When I thought about my future, I was sure that I had the rest of my life vaguely planned out.

Then, my older sister moved up from Arizona to stay with us — and turned my entire life upside down.

I had no idea just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in a castle in Italy, convinced that I was about to die.

Length: 2.5K words (Complete fic 71.8K words)

Fic warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, explicit smut (M/F), referenced/implied past child abuse, emotional manipulation by sibling

Chapter warnings: None

Read on AO3 or read below

21. ANNIVERSARY

“Sweet girl, I have a surprise for you.”

I smirked and wrapped my arms around Alec’s neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “A surprise? What did I do to deserve a surprise?”

Alec laughed and said, “It’s October twentieth — exactly six months since the day we met.”

“God, has it really only been six months?” I said. That day felt a whole lifetime away now.

“Mhm,” he hummed softly. He brushed my hair from my cheek and swiped his thumb along my cheekbone. I leaned into his soft hand as he murmured, “Six months since you came into my life and stole my heart.”

“You know I’m never giving it back,” I teased.

“Good,” he replied cheekily. I laughed with him and shook my head. Alec pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Beautiful girl. . . . Get dressed so I can take you to your surprise.”

“How should I dress? Casual or fancy?” I asked, moving out of his arms to head to the closet.

“Casual,” he replied as he followed me into the large walk-in closet.

I looked around at my clothes for a moment before I picked out a soft black skirt that fell to just above my knees. When Alec left the closet to change into his clothes, I grabbed his thick, knitted, tan sweater. I picked out a pair of black, chunky-heeled ankle boots.

I changed in the closet, tucking the front hem of the sweater into the waistband of the skirt. I put in a pair of brown contacts and grabbed a small crossbody bag before leaving the closet.

Alec was wearing a dark grey, long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and a pair of combat boots. He let his eyes drag along my body, a small smirk growing on his lips, before he looked back up at me. He extended his hand to me. I grinned and took it, linking our fingers together.

“So, where are we going?” I asked as we walked through the castle.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him, which just made him laugh. He pulled me closer to his side, his arm around my shoulders, and kissed my temple. I leaned into his side as he guided us out of the castle.

Thankfully, today was one of the few cloudy days that Volterra received in a year, so we didn’t have to worry much about our sparkling skin.

We took our time walking through the narrow, cobblestone streets. I rested my head against his shoulder and his arm slipped down to curl around my waist.

“Right in here,” Alec murmured, guiding me towards a small shop nestled between a café and a tourist shop. He led me through the narrow doorway.

I gasped when I saw that nearly every inch of the shop was lined with overflowing, yet neatly organized bookshelves.

Alec laughed when he saw my expression and pecked my cheek.

“Good surprise?”

“The best !” I turned to hug him, then pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him. “How long have you known this place was here?”

“Well, we’ve all been coming here for centuries,” he admitted quietly, looking at one of the shelves we were standing beside. He trailed his index finger lightly along the spine of one of the books. Alec looked back up at me and explained, “The same family has owned this shop since it opened. Honestly, we think they might know about our secret, but we’re the ones who keep the shop open. And, because they’re a centuries-old, family-run shop, they are able to find and obtain very rare books for us if we request them. They have connections that even we cannot forge.”

“That’s amazing. Do they usually have some rare books without you having to ask for them?”

Alec shrugged. “Sometimes. They tend to set aside ones that they think we’ll be interested in. One of us usually comes by at least once every few weeks to look through them.” He took my hand and said, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the owner’s daughter.”

Alec led me over to the counter, where a woman in her mid-twenties seemed to be waiting for us. The moment she recognized Alec, she turned and grabbed a small stack of books from the shelf behind her.

“Ciao, Alec,” she greeted in Italian, smiling nervously at us.

“Ciao, Bianca.” He switched to English to say, “Bianca, this is my wife, Eve. I think you’ll see her come in quite often.”

“Hello,” Bianca said in a strongly accented voice. Her smile brightened slightly when I said, “Hi.”

Alec and Bianca then fell into a conversation in rapid Italian. I was only able to catch a couple words, as I wasn’t fluent in Italian yet. I couldn’t tell exactly what they were saying, only that they were talking about books.

Then, the woman’s smile widened and she carefully brought a set of three books out from beneath the counter. She set them gently in front of me and I gasped when I realized what it was.

“Oh my God, Alec. Oh my God.”

The books were a near-pristine first-edition of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, bound in three volumes, which was the norm back then. I slowly reached out and just barely skimmed my fingers over the cover of the top book. I was terrified that I would somehow damage what was undoubtedly a very expensive set.

“How the hell did you even find this? Only five-hundred copies were made for this edition!”

Alec smirked and replied simply, “Bianca and her family are very good at their job. . . . Do you like it?”

I turned to face him, looking at him incredulously. “Are you kidding? I love it!” I hugged him tightly and he laughed against my hair as his arms curled around me. I murmured into his neck, “Thank you, Alec. It’s perfect.”

“You said it was one of your favorites, and I couldn’t resist,” he said.

I pulled back just enough to see his face and I smiled at him. “You’re amazing. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Eve,” he said softly. He kissed me gently.

We finally broke apart and I noticed that Bianca had carefully packaged the books in a protective box so I could carry them back home. I thanked her as I took the package in my hands. I watched Alec as he sorted through the other stack of books that Bianca had set aside for the Volturi.

“I think we’ll just take these, Bianca,” Alec said, nodding to the package in my arms.

She nodded and quickly punched something into the register. Alec set a credit card on the counter and she quickly swiped it through the machine. A moment later, she nodded and handed back the card.

“Grazie, Bianca,” he said, tucking the card back into his wallet.

He put his arm around my waist and we walked back out of the shop. We strolled slowly through the streets of Volterra. There were a few people milling around, but as it was the middle of the day, I assumed most people were either at work or in school. I leaned into Alec’s side, content to just be close to him.

“I think I might have a new favorite store,” I said.

Alec laughed. “I thought you might. I’m glad you like your surprise.”

“I love it. Thank you again.”

“Of course, Eve.” He pressed another kiss to the top of my head. “Do you want to spend the night in our house?”

I grinned and Alec laughed.

“Come on, then, princess.”

I curled up against Alec’s side as I continued to come down from my third orgasm of the night. Alec pulled the thick, black comforter over our bodies as I hooked my leg over one of his. Alec buried his nose in my hair and rested his hand on my thigh.

“You know, this house reminds me of France,” I murmured. “It’s completely different aesthetically, but the feeling is the same.”

“Mm, I agree,” Alec said. “We have the same privacy here that we had in France. No one to hear us, or see us, or bother us. . . . Just two people completely in love and all alone.”

I could practically hear the smile in his voice, which made me grin. I looked up at him, then kissed him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Alec said. He brushed my messy hair away from my face and rubbed his thumb along my cheek. “You can always ask me anything, love.”

“I’m just curious about your human life, before you . . . before you were turned,” I said carefully. Alec remained silent and I quickly added, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I don’t want to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” my mate assured me. “I just . . . I haven’t spoken to anyone about my human life before. . . . Even Jane and I haven’t spoken much to each other about our lives before we were turned.”

“Are you sure that you want to talk about it now?”

Alec combed his fingers through my hair and nodded. “I am.”

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I nuzzled against his chest and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. He trailed his fingers up and down my back as he spoke.

“I was born in the beginning of the ninth century in England. I don’t know the exact date, but Mother said that we were born in the dead of winter. She gave birth with the help of the town’s midwife. . . . I was born first, then Jane.” Alec huffed out a small laugh. “Mother used to tell us that we would scream any time we weren’t near each other when we were babies, but when we were beside each other, we were quiet.”

“What did she look like?” I asked softly. “Your mother?”

“She resembled Jane a lot,” he answered. “Long blonde hair that she usually kept in a braid, emerald green eyes. . . . She was shorter than me, I think, but not by much. Maybe only an inch or so. I remember her being soft-spoken, and kind. No matter what anyone in the village said about us or how they treated us, she never resented us. She always made sure that we knew she loved us, and she tried her best to protect us from the worst of it. . . . She was all we had. Our father left before we were even born, so she had to take care of us by herself.”

“He left?” I asked hesitantly.

Alec nodded. “Just . . . disappeared out of my mother’s life when she told him that she was with child. At least he had the decency to marry her before he left. It protected her from being a total pariah in the village . . . at least until our powers started to show. When that happened . . . God, we were like four, maybe five? It was just little stuff at first, stuff I don’t even really remember now, but it wasn’t long before the others in the village started to notice it. They started to shun us, and then as more time passed, most refused to sell to us or trade with us. . . . I truly don’t know how we survived sometimes. When I was a little older, I was lucky enough to get a job as a farmhand, working in the field and bringing money in for my family, but it was hard. The farmer paid me less than the others because I was one of the ‘witch twins’ and he barely hired me anyway, but he was desperate for the help and I was desperate for money.”

The pain and fear in his voice made my heart twist uncomfortably. Even though this had all happened hundreds of years ago, it clearly still affected him massively.

I snuggled closer to his side, hoping that it would comfort him. Alec squeezed my thigh gently and pressed a kiss to my hair before he continued.

“Jane tried to sell the milk and cheese she made from the two goats we had, but it was never enough. People didn’t trust us and they rarely bought from us. At least we were able to use the milk and cheese ourselves. . . . But it was difficult. We went to bed hungry more often than not.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

The thought of Alec and Jane and their mother going to bed with empty stomachs simply because the other villagers feared them for something they couldn’t control saddened me. I knew that their life wasn’t easy, but to hear him speak of the struggles they faced every day made it even more real.

“Don’t be upset, sweet girl,” Alec murmured. He turned a little so that we were chest-to-chest and hugged me. He pressed his lips to my forehead. “It was so very long ago, and Jane and I . . . we survived, in a way. I’ve never known hunger or hardship since those days.”

“It’s just hard to think about what you lived through . . . and what you nearly died from,” I whispered. The memory of Alec telling me how he was almost burned to death came back through my mind. I pressed as close as I could to him.

“Don’t be upset, love,” Alec said. He ran his hand over my hair and stroked my back. “I’m perfectly fine now. I survived that night, and all the nights before it. . . . And the ones who tried to burn us suffered for their cruelty.”

I looked up at him in confusion. He moved his hand to my cheek and slowly rubbed his thumb along my cheekbone as he explained, “When the Volturi found us, they didn’t simply save us from the fire. They destroyed everyone who tried to burn us, even the few who had hid in their homes during it all. . . . We left them there to rot. The only person we buried and treated with respect was our mother. She had been killed in the mob. Aro buried her for us. We . . . we couldn’t. . . . Not after . . . what they did to her.”

After a moment of silence, I murmured, “I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “She would have loved how kind you are and how selfless you are. She would have been so happy to see how clearly we love each other. She always told us that all she wanted was for me and Jane to be happy.”

I smiled and kissed him. Alec hummed and pushed my hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek in his hand.

“I do love you,” I whispered against his lips. “More than you can imagine.”

“I think I can imagine it,” he teased, laughing softly. His grin softened as he said, “I hope Mother has been able to watch me and Jane for all these years. I hope she saw me find you, and that she saw us find our way to each other despite the forces that tried to keep us apart. . . . I hope she’s seen that Jane and I have found our family with the Volturi, and that I’ve found my soulmate in you.”

#alec volturi x reader #alec volturi imagine #alec volturi fanfiction #alec volturi #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight #volturi fanfiction #volturi #fanfic

[wutheringmights]

Chapter 21: The Gray Eyes & The Missing Link Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character

Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.”

Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters.

But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well.

Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago?

When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes?

(Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)

Well, folks: here it is. The chapter I have waited two years to get to.

Thank you for your support in the journey it took to get here. Hopefully, it has all been worth it.

I'm very scared that I will accidentally spoil something if I say anything more, so you will have to do without my usual jokes. However, I will use this to as a reminder. If you are:

A long time reader who is waiting for the right time to pick up the story again

Interested in reading this story, but is waiting to start for whatever reason

On the fence about starting to read for the first time

Now is the perfect time to get caught up. Trust me, you won't regret it.

READ IT HERE⏩

#now i can die in peace <3 #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu time #lu spirit #lu sky #lu wind #lu legend #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu four #lu twilight #lu #lu fanfiction #lu fanfic #linked universe fanfic #legend of zelda #loz #loz fanfic #legend of zelda fanfiction #lu call them brothers #update announcement #lu ctb

[study-with-aura]

Thursday, March 21, 2024

I should be able to finish my current book tomorrow, but pictured is the book I will read next. It's a graphic novel, so it should only take me a couple of days at most.

It was interesting however comparing what I had planned to read next with something I read today as part of my studies. Hungry Ghost apparently dives into the topic of eating disorders according to the description I saw before adding it to my list. In the article I had to read today about self-control, I felt frustrated with how the writer of the article described self-control or lack thereof.

TW (eating disorders, disordered eating, religion):

The writer attributed gluttony, one of the seven deadly sins, to a lack of self-control. The writer is also a pastor at a church and went into how he could not even control his "idolatry worship" of food (gluttony) and he was called to lead the people at his church. It was very focused on how eating too much is a sin and it's a lack of self-control, when I know that for many, it is because of emotions or even physiological needs due to something being out of holistic alignment. It also made me worry that others who use this curriculum and take this course who may have issues with their weight whether that be because they are considered clinically overweight or obese or because they have an eating disorder could potentially make things worse for them mentally. I don't have an eating disorder, but I know someone in my dance class who went inpatient for one at the children's hospital a couple of years ago. Something about the article did not sit right with me, and whether it was the whole lack of self-control being a sin thing (which I personally do not believe in the case of many people who are considered above their "ideal" weight) or the whole good food bad food nonsense that was littered throughout the article, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was both, especially since eating disorders are often about control in some manner and can deal with the labeling of food as good or bad.

Article link

Tasks Completed:

Geometry - Learned to construct equilateral triangles, squares, and special angles + practice + honors work

Lit and Comp II - Reviewed Unit 21 vocabulary + read the first part of chapter 42 of Emma by Jane Austen

Spanish 2 - Copied new vocabulary

Bible I - Read Judges 16

World History - Read about Sigmund Freud + answered questions + completed the Nationalism in China, Turkey, and India assignment

Biology with Lab - Read and watched videos on how biological clocks indicate recent creation (creationist perspective)

Foundations - Read more on self-control + read another article displaying media bias + read a short scholarly paper about errors in history textbooks

Piano - Practiced for two hours in one hour split sessions

Khan Academy - None today

CLEP - None today

Streaming - Watched episode 3 of Life on Our Planet (evolutionist perspective)

Duolingo - Studied for 15 minutes (Spanish, French, Chinese) + completed daily quests

Reading - Read pages 282-330 of House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig

Chores - Put away the dishes + took the trash out

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (Proverbs 16)

Ballet

Pointe

Journal/Mindfulness

-

What I’m Grateful for Today:

I am grateful for being able to see how beautiful nature is.

Quote of the Day:

The voice of the intellect is a soft one, but it does not rest until it has gained a hearing.

-Sigmund Freud

🎧Prelude in G sharp minor, Op. 11 No. 12 - Alexander Scriabin

#study blog #study inspiration #study motivation #studyblr #studyblr community #study community #study-with-aura

[cynic-view-ahead]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @aleheartilly for this meme thing (thank you!!) and I'm gonna try to do it even though I have a grand total of technically two (2) fics lmao!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Technically 2 but since Lion's Oath is a series/chronicle... 8

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

72,992

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Final Fantasy VIII

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1- Lion's Oath 1: Space (32) (Ugh lmao it's so old)

2- Lion's Oath 6: Lost (21)

3- Lion's Oath 3: Wings (19)

4- Lion's Oath 2: Knight (15)

5- Lion's Oath 7: Fate (12)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! Someone took the time to read and express how my writing has made them feel; I'll definitely take the time to express gratitude to them and self-indulge a bit by geeking out about my work! <3

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think Lion's Oath 1: Space wins angstiest ending? Lion's Oath 6: Lost is angsty but ends on a hopeful note, and Lion's Oath 5: Messenger is more of a cliffhanger so... I like angst but not in my endings normally haha

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Definitely Knight! I still really like how the ending of that chapter turned out!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Never did so far. I think I'd find it a bit funny though... and maybe flattering? Like wow my writing has instilled enough rage in someone that they had to tell me! I dunno, it'd be amusing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I did in the past, and plan to when Lion's Oath progresses a bit more! I'm not sure what 'kinds' there are but for Squinoa specifically it's going to start very slow and simple, with a focus on enthusiastic consent and (of course) emotions! I do have ideas that are a bit kinkier but there's quite a ways to go before those.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't, though I've thought about writing some KH Strifehart stuff (does that even count as a crossover? lmao)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, that'd be so weird and funny though, I mean it's not like I'm making money off of this so what's the point of stealing it lmao

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, I guess I could translate my own fics in French? Haha

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't! How does that even work I wonder?

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Love me some Squall/Rinoa (surprising I know), close second is Zelda/Link! <3

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Probably Lion's Oath LOL in the sense that I don't think I'll ever look at it and go ''this is it, this is over and done!'' I guess that's the cool thing about it being a series

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told I'm good with characterizations?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think my vocabulary could definitely be more extensive. I often find myself struggling to convey the exact meanings I want for dialogues/descriptions/atmosphere etc and using the same words a lot oops

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If it fits with the context it's good, I'd stick to French though 'cause it's what I know along with English. Wouldn't risk potentially butchering a language I don't personally know haha

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time! Back in like... 2004/05? Oof haha it was BAD.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I think it's Lion's Oath 3: Wings. It's got a lot of fluff and a little bit of spiciness and I remember having a lot of fun writing it! Plus writing Badass Sorceress Rinoa is always a treat.

#tagged #tag game #meme #meme game #my shit #chronicles of a lion's oath #tag

[shreddedleopard]

for yuumori asks: 1, 13, 21 :)

✨ From Yuumori ask game here

Ahh thank you so much for the ask!! ☺️ (and for creating this wonderful Yuumori themed game too!!)

Oh god, these questions were harder to answer than I expected, once I sat down to think about them 😆 but here goes:

1. Favourite Character (s)

I’d love to say something quirky or unexpected, but honestly it’s a toss up between William and Sherlock for first with Louis close second.

William // I think to take a villainous character from an existing story and write them from a perspective which makes them as relatable and their intentions as understandable as William’s is absolutely brilliant. William is a character who I find more interesting and more wonderful the deeper I delve into him; it feels like there’s constantly a new element of him that makes me go 🤯 and I love this. I also find that I relate to him in certain ways, too. I think he’s very cleverly written so as to have many different facets of his personality which are relatable.

Sherlock // I love how Sherlock retains a lot of his original ACD character traits but also has specific elements which make him feel as though he very much belongs to Yuumori. I think his flaws and vulnerabilities are written honestly and again in a very relatable way, and I find myself also relating to Sherlock but in a different way to William. He’s funny, too; I will always gravitate to characters that make me grin or laugh aloud when reading ☺️

As an aside, I find it difficult to separate both of these characters for first spot because it’s also their relationship and connection which I adore in Yuumori; I feel like amidst a backdrop of drama, life and death situations and change on a grand scale, it encourages us to celebrate the joy of the everyday, specific ways we connect with other people and find things in common.

Louis // I enjoyed Louis’ character in the manga, was drawn in by the soft and gentle aspects of his character brought out by the English VA in the anime, but Ikkei Yamamato’s portrayal of him in Morimyu sealed the deal for me. Louis’ balance between his vulnerable and honest emotions he wears on his sleeve for William mixed with the stoicism and guardedness he strives for the remainder of the time intrigues me no end. He’s a character I’d love to explore more in writing, too, especially post time-skip. I think it’s sometimes overlooked how he, in the end, clung on to his composure and strength where William and Albert crumbled, and how he probably makes an excellent leader, but I think the anime stopping where it does is to blame for this. He’s very much my go-to type of character.

2. Favourite Arc

Wow this is so difficult because I absolutely charged through the manga when part 1 was already complete, so a lot of it blurs into one big mess when I think about it haha. I would maybe have to say The Final Problem arc, as the way suspense was built during this had my heart absolutely racing. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be a monthly reader not knowing the fate of the characters for months after that fall. The Two Criminals is perhaps a close second, because I thoroughly enjoyed Milverton’s character and almost wanted more of him vs. William/ Sherlock. When Sherlock ate that sandwich and drank that tea like he gave zero shits about Milverton’s little game, it did things to me. I think it was the moment Sherlock’s position as joint top favourite character was cemented 🤣

3. What I’d like to see as another OVA

I mean … I feel like the Durham Date is kinda the ultimate here, right? 😆 I would love to see this animated. But also, the storyline where William is kidnapped in earlier chapters is a favourite. I love how it shows William’s absolute dedication to his goal — he shrugs his mistreatment and injuries off as if they’re nothing, not caring for his own well being providing his plan succeeds. But not only this, his damn acting. I was so worried for him when he was shouting for Louis in the carriage, my heart was in my throat, only for him later to be like 😏 everything went as planned. When I realised he’d played me, the reader, too, I was shaking my fist at him (affectionately 🤣). I would like to see this performance animated, thank you.

This was so much fun, thank you again! 🥰

#Yuumori ask game #ask games #yuumori #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #louis james moriarty #Sherlock Holmes

[danpuff-ao3]

@hprecfest 3/3: Days 21-31

Day 21: a thought-provoking fic

When the Rose and the Fire Are One

by perverse_idyll (@perverse-idyll). Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 81,618. Dysfunctional relationships. Minor Harry/George. Dubious consent. Sex magic. Secondary character death.

Harry’s haunted by guilt. Snape’s warded by roses. Each must free the other in order to free himself.

This is the fic that has ingrained itself in my brain more than any other, I think. PI is so clever and this whole world is well considered and fleshed out. 

This story features probably the best original character I’ve seen in fic (Odile, my love). The magic in this story is phenomenal and I’m actually obsessed with it. The magic and history of Spinner’s End, and Severus, and Eileen, has fully become canonized in my brain, I swear to god. The characterizations of Harry and Severus are top tier. The sex is scorching. The emotions are a rollercoaster both exhilarating and terrifying. And the end!!!! Oh god, this is the fic that I think about for days after I read it, wondering what comes after. 

While another of PI’s fics has captured my heart more, this is a close second and captured my mind more. It’s truly a masterwork and I cannot recommend this fic enough to people.

Niemöller, or Four Times When Harry Didn’t Speak Up and then When He Finally Did

by Leela. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 7,904. 

They came, and they came, and one day Harry noticed.

When I posted the original version of Masquerade (new version on AO3 | old version on FFN) years ago, someone commented that it reminded them of Niemöller. So of course, I had to look it up and read it, and I fell in love! It really makes you consider an alternate way the world could have gone in the wake of Voldemort’s demise, and veering too hard in the opposite direction of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It’s all the more real as time goes on and we see how prone our society is to extremes, and how our natural inclinations may be to “over-correct.” 

In the notes Leela linked to this poetic version of a confessional prose from Martin Niemöler, from who this fic gets its name:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—      Because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—      Because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—      Because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Day 22: an unfinished fic

The Release of Sisyphus

by starcrossed. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: idk. LJ link.

The epilogue to Nights of Gethsemane and Invictus.

I've been waiting for TEN YEARS. TEN YEARS!!!! And I'll keep waiting cuz I've still not given up hope 🥲

This is the follow-up to NoG and Invictus that takes place years after the fact. Post-war, adult Harry, reconnecting with Severus. The last posted chapter is the worst place to leave off on, only because it was so close smut!!!! You just KNOW that's where chapter 16 would have gone if it had updated.

It hurts my soul a bit because I love this series so much, and so my soul will always be waiting for closure with this story. You know, until the author comes back in a year or two or ten with updates!! (Rec for NoG here.)

Day 23: a soulmate fic

Corresponding Shapes

by bleedcolor (@bleedcolor). Harry/Severus. Rated: T. Words: 5,516. Soulmate identifying marks.

For a very long time he hadn’t known what the names meant. He’d woken up the morning of his 7th birthday and there they were; red as blood, one more thing to brand him as a freak in the eyes of his aunt and uncle.

I love the idea of this one, Harry marked by two fates. I’m forever a sucker for soulmate-identifying marks, but the idea of this one is too neat, and Harry not knowing which name is which right away! It’s so sweet and lovely

Day 24: a holiday fic

The Christmas Hate List

by lizzy0305 (@lizzy0305). Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 11,465. Humor. Romance. Fluff.

Most people have a wishlist for Christmas, but Severus Snape is not most people - he has a hate list. There are five things Severus hates about the season, but with Harry Potter’s help, he gets reminded of the one thing he still loves about the Holidays.

GOD, Severus is such a HATER and I LOVE IT. But also, Mr. Grinch over here falls in love and we get a good laugh out of it. What a good time this is!

Gratia Plena

by Femme (@femmequixotic). Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 18,972. 

Memories of a drunken kiss lead two lonely souls together at Christmas.

One of the more serious and angsty Christmas fics I love, but love it I do! I can’t help but love Femme’s work. This is right up my alley in general, even outside of the holiday season, as it features 2 difficult men with a hell of a lot of chemistry (and history). This suits just right when you’re in the mood for something less merry and bright.

The Nutcracker’s Delight

by perverse_idyll, rinsbane (@perverse-idyll). Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 17,119. 

Severus Snape meets the Nutcracker. 

A fun holiday crackfic! It’s such a good time, full of whimsy and festivity, and written by 2 creators I’ve long admired. It’s such a good time and will for sure get you in the holiday spirit!

Day 25: a fic rated T

a scratch for every itch

by bleedcolor (@bleedcolor). Harry/Severus. Rated: T. Words: 11,478. Magical maladies. Pining. Humor. Idiots to lovers. Fluff.

Severus Snape is an itch that Harry just can’t scratch.

This one can also work for the “comfort fic” prompt. It’s a lighthearted, feel-good Snarry with a lot to love! The magical malady here is so whimsical and cute and so fitting for the HP-verse.

The Sleeping Prince

by who_la_hoop. Harry/Severus. Rated: T. Words: 42,758. Postwar. Hogwarts 8th year. Deaging. 

It’s hard to ignore your past — and impossible to do so when you can’t remember your future. But a meddlesome portrait, a dragon with an ancient grudge and true love’s kiss teach an unlikely Prince that a regrettable past doesn’t have to mean an unhappy ending.

This is one of my favorite fics. I don’t generally care for de-aging fics, but this one is exactly what I would hope for. Lots of cute, awkward teenage romance. I love seeing how distrustful and angsty teenage Severus is. And how sweet and dorky Harry is!

Day 26: a fic with an ending you can't stop thinking about

Penance is the Play

by Maeglin_Yedi (@maeglinyedi). Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 66,439. Underage. Student/teacher. Dysfunctional relationship. Manipulation. Coercion. Humor & angst. 

Harry wants revenge. Harry has a plan. But is Harry Slytherin enough to avoid his own trap?

Yet another fic I read way too many times back in the day. And still do. But it’s so good!!!! And that ending still haunts me to this day, I swear to god.

And Mine the Gall

by perverse_idyll (@perverse-idyll). Rated: E. Words: 5,505. Sequel to In Infinite Remorse of Soul (Albus/Severus, Harry/Severus). 

It’s one thing to deny oneself; it’s another to be denied. In which Albus learns (again) that sins of omission have consequences, even unto the next generation; and that what he denied to Severus shall be visited upon Harry.

These 2 fics are dark and delicious and AMAZING AND PERFECT AND I’m obsessed and will think about them forever. It also features a line that has lived rent free in my head fOR YEARS. 

“Severus,” he sobs, an explosion of defeat, because the love that will poison his life has a name.

Day 27: a Muggle AU

Marks

by florahart. Harry/Severus. Rated: G. Words: 5,136. College/university. Student/professor. Podfic available.

Harry's a computer science student, but he needs a writing credit to qualify for an internship. All the writing classes are full, so he ends up in Snape's lit class as a substitute. Snape has a reputation as a hardass, but it can be said that no one passes his class without learning to write, so that meets the requirement, and then, once Harry starts working on that, it turns out they have something else in common.

I nearly recced this fic a handful of times already, for podfic day (JocundaSykes did a terrific narration of this!), comfort fic, and a fic rated G. So when it came time to choose a Muggle AU, I finally had to choose this one! There is still the essence of what I love about Snarry here: a bit of student/teacher (though as unproblematic as can be), with Snape as the mean teacher with a bad reputation, and Harry as the student who is smart and competent in some areas, but not Severus' area. It's a feel good fic that I often return to when I need something light and easy.

Day 28: an underrated fic

A Series of Events

by babygray (@babygray). Harry/Severus. Rated: M. Words: 67,251. Mpreg. Miscarriage. Underage. Student/teacher. Angst.

In January, the impossible occurred. It took Severus until April to realize just what that was, and to believe.

Not gonna lie, I don’t know how to gauge what’s “underrated” or “overrated” or “appropriately rated” but I do know that this is a fic I love too much to have no one to talk to about it. It’s like…idk how to explain this fic. It’s niche. It’s unique. It itches.

Okay “it itches” might sound weird, but like…this fic crawled under my skin and randomly reminds me of its presence. It’s not a happy fic, there are no easy answers, it’s all gray and complicated and sad and so real in a way that I’m obsessed with.

Molly’s Advice

by Arrisha (@arrisha-ao3). Harry/Severus. Rated: M. Words: 7,189. Postwar. Angst. Infidelity. 

Snape used to have a secret; Harry only now begins to realise his own.

Okay, Arrisha’s work is all amazing, but this one is my favorite and no one talks about it???? Or at least, I’ve not seen anyone talk about it, WHICH IS A SHAME, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED, THIS FIC IS WONDERFUL, PLEASE READ IT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Day 29: a post-canon fic

The Beating of This Fragile Heart

by Writcraft (@writcraft). Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 33,146. Fluff & angst. Hurt/comfort.

After the war, the last thing Severus Snape needs is the memory of a fleeting wartime kiss and a very persistent Harry Potter thwarting his plans to live a peaceful and solitary life. It’s only when Harry’s life is endangered that Severus is finally forced to confront his feelings head on.

This is one of my favorite fics and it does my heart so good! It’s such a lovely love story featuring a Harry who knows what he wants, and a Severus too scared and insecure for his (or Harry’s) own good. Their love here brings me so much joy.

Day 30: a pre-canon fic

Buried Roots

by yletylyf (@yletylyf). Severus-centric. Evan/Severus. Rated: M. Words: 19,036. First Wizarding War. Violence. Romance. Tragedy.

Severus Snape and Evan Rosier nurture their shared love of the Dark Arts, and find themselves drawn into Voldemort’s world. Severus is sure he can navigate anything in life, with Evan by his side.

I so thoroughly enjoyed this fic, as a well considered look at how Severus might have come to the Death Eaters. It does my heart good how impressed others were by Severus and his gifts, and how those gifts drew the Dark Lord’s eye. It was good to see his friendship/relationship with Evan Rosier, as well as the other connections Severus makes. There is no real goal to “excuse/forgive” Severus’ choices, but also makes his journey understandable and very real. I really appreciate Lety’s grasp of various characters and showing them in the best and worst ways, which is exactly what I love to see! 

Day 31: a fav amongst favs

The White Road

by perverse_idyll (@perverse-idyll). Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 47,887. Lily POV. Romance. Redemption. Afterlife. 

One day, comfortably set up in the afterlife, Lily Evans Potter switches on the telly and gets hooked on the Harry Potter show.

I’m pretty sure this is the fic I’ve read more than any other, except maybe some of my shorter faves. Maybe. I first read this fic around the time it was first posted, and I’ve reread it at least once a year ever since. It’s TRULY one of the best stories I’ve ever read. Seeing Snarry’s romance unfold from Lily’s POV is incredible, and PI is so masterful in making us feel their great love when we’re not in either of their heads. 

Not to mention Lily’s character here is incredible. She’s spunky and vivacious, but has moments of meanness and vanity. She’s no saintly vision of Lily, but a very human Lily, for all that she’s dead. This is the story that really made me love and appreciate what Lily could be, as more than just Harry’s perfect martyred mother. 

Also this is the fic that gave me a voyeurism kink. 

#danpuff recs #hp rec fest #hp rec fest compilation

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

500 Miles (Chapter Nine)

Summary: This is Part Nineteen of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Light Angst, Emotional Conversations, Dealing with Past Trauma, Minor Character Injury, Swearing, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, An Unholy Amount of Fluff

A/N: To underscore my previous note, this is an alternate universe so things have unfolded differently. This will not follow the canon arcs exactly by any means. But I hope you'll still enjoy it!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chris

Kol did their team another solid by catching Olinsky’s hit for the third out. Hopefully he’d remember who fed him bacon this morning and go take a nap for the second half of the inning. (Chris made a mental note to remind the kids not to tell Will about that particular dietary lapse.)

21 hadn’t managed to get any runs so if 51 could get a few in, this was a chance to get ahead and stay there. Chris went over their batting order and swallowed a sigh. Capp was sitting out voluntarily due to last year’s black eye which was fine except for the fact that Tony was with him in solidarity. Guy wasn’t the fastest player, but he had a real Babe Ruth quality when it came to hitting balls out of the park.

Now instead of Tony, they had Sylvie who was a total wild card.

They could make this work.

Probably.

Casey was first up and Bex was immediately up to her shenanigans. “Don’t you have a canteen to run?” Chris hollered at her.

She ignored him, waving her friend Emery over to start up one of her chants. “Hey, batter, what’s the matter, can’t you stand a little chatterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?”

Chris swore she binged every sports movie she could before each Grudge Match so she could get refreshed on all the trash talk and whatnot that she possibly could. Points for commitment, but he was glad she usually used her powers for good.

Luckily, Casey was used to her by now and remained unphased. He hit a double off the first pitch and had all of 51 on their feet, cheering.

“Attaboy, Casey. That’s what I’m talking about,” Chris said, clapping a hand against his clipboard. “Good start, good start. Severide! Get in there!”

“Yeah, Severide!” Bex echoed. “Get in there and hit it right down the middle there. Kol’s waiting! He’s gonna get it! I can feel it!”

…and then the god-damned dog did exactly that.

Leapt up and plucked the ball right out of the air. Severide cursed as Dr. Abrams called him out—cursing again as Jay laughed his ass off at him while he walked back to the dugout.

“Daddy!” Annabelle squealed; Lee Henry lifting her up so she could hang over the fence. “Did you see that? Did you see? Isn’t Kol the best baseball player?”

“Yeah, I saw, honey.” Chris tried to inject some measure of enthusiasm into his words. “He sure is something.” Hiding a hand behind his back, he surreptitiously gave the finger to the Canteen Crew who were all loudly agreeing with Annabelle and cheering for Kol.

Brett was up next and Chris looked up to the heavens, praying for her to at least hit it away from the freakin’ dog.

***

Sylvie

So…the Grudge Match was intense…

The warnings she’d received had not prepared her for the sheer level of bonkersness that the day was bringing—and they were only in the first inning!

Now it was her turn at bat and Herrmann had told her to ‘just do her best’ and ‘have fun’ in a kind of manically casual way that was super reassuring. It wasn’t like she’d never played baseball before. It had only been fifteen-ish years…maybe twenty. But it was like riding a bike, right? Some things you never forget.

“Like riding a bike,” she whispered to herself as she stepped up to the plate.

She could see Bex and the rest of the Canteen Crew gathered near the backstop fence and she braced herself for their good-natured ribbing. Otis and Cruz had prepared her for the heckling as well as the whole Pick thing. She had to admit it’d been pretty entertaining so far.

Sylvie stepped up to the plate and nodded to signal her readiness. Sam Kent, a patrol officer from 21 and one of Bex’s many friends, was pitching. He had a mean fastball. Sylvie braced herself—

“Come on, Sylvie! You can do it!” Bex cheered followed by the voices of the rest of her gang. Sylvie’s head whipped around to stare at them in shock.

She was the Pick?

…she was the Pick!

“Aw!” She was totally and utterly touched. “You guys!”

“Strike one!” Dr. Abrams called out as the ball thudded into the catcher’s mitt.

Oh, crud.

Bex shook her head in a fondly exasperated way as Herrmann’s faint cry of “Brett!” made its way over to them and Sylvie smiled sheepishly.

“Come on, girl!” Bex called out.

“Second time’s the charm, Brett!” Connor hollered.

Sylvie adjusted her stance, properly ready this time. She kept her eye on the ball as it came winging toward her and—

Yes! Sent it sailing toward second base. Sylvie took off and ran as fast as she could, making it to first just after Jay had thrown the ball to Kevin.

“Safe!” Maggie declared and Sylvie did a little dance, waving at Casey who had made it to third.

“Nice moves, Brett,” Kevin murmured in her ear before tossing the ball back to Sam.

“Why thank you.” She grinned back at him, feeling the blush that always crept into her cheeks when he looked at her like that.

“Eyes on the game, people,” Maggie said, the laughter clear in her voice.

Sylvie bumped hips with Kevin, still smiling, but turning her attention back to their next player coming up to bat. “Woo-hoo! Yeah, Kidd!”

***

Hailey

Kidd managed another hit and Hailey could hear Trudy’s groans clear across the diamond from her spot on third base. Halstead tagged Brett out before she got to second, but Casey was racing toward home already.

All of 51 leapt to their feet as he crossed home. Bex and the Canteen Crew, inexplicably, threw their arms in the air and yelled “GOAL!” with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Hailey shot a look over at Halstead, hoping for an explanation, but his face was buried in his mitt as he groaned. She turned to Mouse over in the short stop position instead.

He huffed out a laugh at her wordless question, staring out a Halstead’s sister with that unbearably soft smile he’d been wearing more and more. “Bex started doing it to annoy her brothers,” he said and Hailey waved a hand at him.

"Enough said." Hailey had three older brothers herself.

Sometimes being annoying was reason enough.

***

Bex

Otis was two strikes in at bat and not being very appreciative of Bex and Emery’s encouragement to put his back into it.

They had a little dance move and everything.

He put almost as much work into ignoring them as he did focusing on the next pitch. And it paid off! He sent the ball flying off to centre field…

Right into Kol’s waiting muzzle.

Otis stomped his way back to the dugout when Dr. Abram’s called him out. “This is some Air Bud-level bullshit!”

Kol barked from his spot out by Al in centre field.

Bex pulled herself up off the ground where she was currently dying with laughter to yell, “Hey, Kol says watch your language,” and Otis leveled a murderous look at her.

Seriously. Best Grudge Match ever.

***

Will

Bex and Emery switched off with Devon and Isaac for the beginning of the second inning so the guys could have a go at heckling Sam when 21 took their turn at bat. She declared it their right as boyfriends.

The considering-slash-mischievous look Connor gave him was making Will eternally grateful Med didn’t have a team.

Bex then got into a discussion with Emery and Donna over how weird it was having Police Officer Sam Kent around at the same time as Dr. Sam Abrams and whether or not they should give them both nicknames.

A nickname.

For Sam Abrams.

Will and Connor steered clear of that chat, filing it firmly under the list of things only Bex could get away with.

The game finally started to heat up a bit and by the beginning of the third inning, 21 had pulled ahead four runs to three. (Jay scored one of them, pointing a sharp finger and mouthing ‘DON’T’ as he ran past them only to be blasted by extra loud cheers of ‘GOAL!’ as a result.)

Will and Connor took a little break from the canteen to watch for awhile, enjoying the shenanigans and keeping up the heckling when Bex prompted them.

They’d turned to head back and relieve Donna at the grill when a wave of noise went up from the crowd. Will looked around to see a foul ball come flying over the back stop, straight for Connor’s head.

He plucked it out of the air right as Connor looked up, eyes wide. Will grinned over at him.

“Saved your life.”

Connor rolled his eyes, but leaned into his side. “My hero.”

“It was for my own benefit, really,” Will said, tossing the ball back over for Abrams to catch. “Kinda like your face how it is.”

“Just kinda?” Connor arched an eyebrow at him.

“Kind of a lot.” Will leaned in for a kiss. “Among your many other excellent qualities.”

Bex brushed past them holding a tray full of popcorn bags and drinks. “Back in a sec! Keep heckling!!!”

“Where are you—” Will turned to Emery since Bex was already travelling at full velocity. “Where is she going?”

“Do any of us really know where we’re going?” Emery asked back solemnly.

“Em.” Will sighed as Connor snorted behind him.

“No clue,” she said with a laugh. “Bex is gonna Bex. She said she’d be back though.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that as she flew by.” It had to be something important. Bex wouldn’t abandon the Canteen ship so Will would just focus on keeping things organized in the meantime. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s see how we’re doing for supplies and figure out if we need grab anything before the fifth inning break.”

***

Bex

Bex carefully balanced her load as she made her way over to the bleachers on the CPD side of the field. She walked as quick as she could to avoid being pulled into a chat.

She was on a mission.

She’d spotted Mouse’s group sitting together at the start of the game, but none of them had stopped by the canteen yet. Bex wasn’t sure if they were hesitant to approach her or waiting until the break or…any number of the scenarios that she’d run through her brain.

In any case, this felt like the better plan. Break the ice with snacks.

Very high success rate.

Usually.

Don’t overthink it, she coached herself. These were Mouse’s people. She’d already met them once and they’d been lovely. They just wanted to get to know her a bit. Because they—

Oh, god, because they were Mouse’s family—she was meeting—capital M Meeting— Mouse’s family and they weren’t even technically, officially dating yet.

The tray wobbled.

“Cool,” she whispered to herself. “Everything is cool, cool, cool.”

Rounding the corner of the bleachers, Bex approached Mouse’s group. Ed spotted her right away and leapt up to offer his help with the tray.

“Hi,” Bex said, relinquishing her hold on the tray and giving the group a little wave. “I brought snacks.” Ugh. Excellent start, Bex.

“We were just debating when to get snacks,” Ed said, quirking a smile at her as he handed out the bags and drinks to the others. “Before or after the fifth inning rush.”

“Things definitely get a little hairy over there during the break,” she said. “But we always make sure we’re well stocked so they’ll be plenty left if you want to play it safe and wait for the start of the sixth.”

“We can always send Ed in,” Ada said, poking at his shoulder with a laugh. “His elbow game is strong. Good man to have in a crowd.”

“It’s not—I don’t—Ada—” Ed sputtered and Bex stifled a giggle. It was kind of nice to know the guy could get ruffled like a regular human. Every story she’d heard involved him being the calmest person on the planet which was slightly intimidating.

“Bex, join us,” Lucy said. She shuffled over with a warm smile. “Can the canteen spare you for a bit?”

“Oh, for sure.” She waved a hand over at the Canteen Crew. “I roped my brother in this year so we’ve got plenty of help.”

“Which brother is this?” Frank asked. “We’ve heard about Jay and he’s playing with Mouse on the CPD team, right?”

“Yup, so this brother is Will,” Bex said. “He’s two years older than Jay and a doctor at Med. My oldest brother is Chris. That’s him over there with the CFD team.”

The group peered over the fence to get a glimpse at Chris across the diamond. He was currently smacking his face into his clipboard so as far as first impressions went, it was…fairly accurate.

“Three older brothers,” Lucy said with a whistle. “I thought I had it bad with two.”

Bex laughed. “Yeah, that’s just my biological brothers,” she said. “Factor in all of my adopted brothers?” She waved a hand at the whole field. “It’s a little nuts sometimes.”

“Mouse says you’re an artist?” Chuck asked and Bex started telling them about her work and her projects she had on the go and then asking them about their jobs.

It went on like that for a while; all of them sharing pieces of their lives with her and her doing the same in return. She had them all laughing with the history of the Grudge Match game and the reasoning behind the Canteen Crews antics.

“We gotta join in with the goal cheer and wave our signs if Mouse gets a run,” Lucy said, eyes going bright with the idea.

“Oooh, perfect,” Ada agreed. She turned to Bex then and the change in the air was visceral. “Speaking of Mouse,” she continued. “What are your intentions?”

Her what?

“Ada,” Ed groaned.

“He’s our friend,” Ada said, ignoring the daggers Ed was shooting at her. “This is our job.”

Realization shot through Bex in a flash and her heart clenched, feeling so full she thought it might burst. “Is this—are you giving me the shovel talk?”

***

Ada

Bex went white for a moment before her eyes went wide and shiny as she took a sharp breath. Ada had half a second to worry that she had monumentally screwed up before a wide smile spread across her face.

“This is—oh, my god, this is so great,” she said, pulling Ada in for a tight hug.

Ada looked to the rest of the group for help as she was squeezed by someone a foot shorter than her, but they were zero help. Every single one of them looked as flabbergasted as she felt.

“Okay.” Bex pulled back, giving herself a shake and straightening her shoulders. “Lay it on me.”

“Well, it feels weird now,” Ada said, throwing her hands up and Bex’s face immediately fell.

“No! No, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for Ada again and then stopping, planting her hands in her lap. “I’m just—it’s so great.”

“Great how?” Chuck asked slowly. He was eyeing Bex like he was putting together the pieces of a puzzle only he could see at the moment. Ada hoped he filled her in soon or that Bex did because she was very lost.

“Do you see that field?” She pointed out at the players running around and shouting. “Pretty much any one out there would give Mouse a shovel talk for me in a heartbeat. And there’s more people beyond that.” She sighed, gathering her words. “I don’t say that to brag or anything. I’ve been really lucky when it comes to…acquiring family members.” She smiled before looking back at them. “Mouse doesn’t talk to me about his family. Not yet, anyway.”

A slight nod to what they all knew he was working toward with the walks.

“I’ve always had the sense that they’re not really in the picture,” Bex said and Ada didn’t want to be speaking out of turn, but she knew her face was saying plenty. “Right,” Bex nodded. “So. when it came to having people—to having family—I knew he had Jay and he had me…” Bex slowly looked around at every member of their group, smile growing impossibly brighter. “But he has all of you too. You’re his family and that makes me—I’m so happy for him.” Her laugh came out a little wet and she shook her head before taking a deep breath. “Okay. Shovel talk. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know if I can do it now,” Ada began, but Chuck was already leaning in.

“Mouse is very special to us,” he said in that soft, calm voice of his. “We have been there with him through some of his darkest times and through all of the hard work he put in to pull himself through. It’s taking a lot for him to take these steps with you. All I ask is that you honour the effort he’s making and…give him time.”

Bex nodded solemnly. “I do,” she said. “And I will.”

“Don’t break his heart,” Frank burst out, surprising them all. “I know you can’t really promise that because no one knows how these things will turn out, but please. Don’t break his heart.” The last part was whispered, like a prayer Frank was sending out. The rest of them felt it echo in their own hearts.

“The last thing I want to do is break Mouse’s heart,” Bex said. She chewed on her lip for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know what you’d classify what we’re doing right now as—aside from ‘taking it slow’, but it feels like more than that. Because everything with Mouse is more for me.” Her cheeks went pink for a moment. “This kind of feels like something I should be saying to him.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Ed said and she held up a hand.

“I want to. At least a little bit,” she said. “I think the truth of it all for me is that no matter what, even if things don’t work out romantically between us—but I’m really, really hopeful that they will—like I said, Mouse is part of my family. I will always be there for him. Always.”

Ada caught Chuck’s eye and raised a brow. To be fair, Bex had kind of proven that already by not walking away from Mouse after the first round of horrific miscommunication.

Girl was pretty committed.

“We had a sense of that,” Chuck said, patting Bex’s shoulder and putting voice to Ada’s thoughts. “But it’s always nice to hear. Now.” He pointed out at the field. “What can you tell us about this fantastic dog?”

Bex’s laughter pealed out infectiously and she immediately began launching into the story of Kol the dog’s adoption by her brother Will and the many adventures he’d had since then.

Ada’s smile grew as she listened, making eye contact with the rest of the group and bumping shoulders with Ed. Even without talking, she knew they were on the same page. This was good, that they had come here today—that they’d seen for themselves.

Bex was the right person for Mouse.

And Ada was pretty certain Mouse was the right person for Bex. Next time his doubts started to creep in, their group would have no trouble reminding him of that.

***

Jay

It was finally the end of the fifth inning. Break time.

Their team had held on to their lead, stretching it to eight to five at this point much to Chris’s despair. Jay had scored another one of those runs himself thanks to Kol finally deciding to take a break. Last Jay had spotted him, the evil beast had been snoozing under the CFD side of the bleachers while Annabelle decorated him with dandelions.

Maybe he could slip her five bucks to keep him there.

(He should have twenty ready because that kid could haggle.)

Jay lined up with the rest of the team to get some kind of snack. He was freaking starving. As he got closer to the tables, he grinned at the sight of the Canteen Crew bopping around as they hustled through serving everyone. Since the game was paused, Bex had turned the tunes on.

Strictly oldies.

It was the one genre they’d landed on that hadn’t caused an argument. The year they’d played classic rock had been a blood bath. Who knew Mouch had such strong feelings about Rush?

…everyone did, now, but at the time? Jay blew out a breath at the memory.

Nah, oldies were a safe bet. Plus, now he was treated to the sight of Will dancing around with Bex singing along to Rockin’ Robin as they handed out burgers and hotdogs.

Where was his phone? He needed a picture of this. A camera sound snapped to his right and he looked over to see Chris already taking care of it.

“Send me a copy?” Jay asked.

“Oh, it’s going in the group chat,” Chris said with a grin.

Jay kind of loved that ‘the group chat’ could mean anything from the one he and Will were in with Chris and Cindy and about ten other options ending with the one that had…pretty much everyone.

“What can I get you?” Emery asked with a grin when he stepped up to the table at last.

“Literally anything,” Jay said, eyeing the vast selections. “But definitely a burger if there’s one available.”

“On it!” She disappeared for a moment before returning with a heaping plate. He dug into his pocket for his wallet and she waved him off. “It’s on me,” Emery said. She nodded her head toward the end of the table and he followed. “I wanted to say thanks for checking out the places I was looking at.”

“No problem at all,” Jay said, picking up his burger and took a huge bite. He was hungry, okay? “Bex said you went with the house?”

Emery shook her head, laughing at his attempts to talk around his mouthful and giving him a very Bex look. “Yeah, I signed the lease and I move in on the 15th.” She looked like she wanted to say more so Jay waited her out. Still chewing.

“Thank you as well for the self defence class recommendations,” she said. “I looked into them and I found one with an instructor I really like. I start this week.”

Jay swallowed, wanting to be intelligible for this. It was a big step. “I’m really glad to hear that,” Jay said. “And seriously, I was happy to help. We all are. You need anything, you’ve got my number, right?”

“Bex gave it to me, along with possibly the number of every single person who works at your precinct?” Emery shrugged in that way everyone did when faced with a very Bex thing.

Jay was about to ask how, but decided he really didn’t want to know. Especially when the answer was gonna be one: something that skirted all kinds of rules or two: …Platt.

“I should get back to work,” Emery said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “But thanks again.”

“No problem again,” Jay said, already stuffing his mouth full of more burger. “And thanks for the food!”

He ambled over to the CPD dugout and listened to Platt talk ‘battle plans’ while he finished of his meal.

***

Bex

“Thanks, Bex,” Kevin said as he accepted his plate from her. “Hey, uh, got a minute?” He jerked his head to the side and Bex looked out at the dwindling line, deciding she did have a minute.

“What’s up?” Kevin looked uncharacteristically nervous. To the point where Bex was almost concerned about what he might want to talk to her about.

“Remember how Tay brought Shay to one of the game nights?” he asked, letting the question hang in the air.

“Yeah, because she wanted a ‘relaxed’ way to bring her into the friend group and I still say she was lucky the night turned out the way it did because historically game night—oh, my god—” The dots. They connected. “You want to bring Sylvie to game night.”

Kevin ducked his head with a shy little nod and Bex melted.

“She can totally come to a game night,” Bex said, reaching out to grab his arm and do a little happy dance. He didn’t join in, but that was fine. She could dance for two.

“Yeah?” Kevin grinned at her. “Good, that’s—hey, I was thinking though. She really likes outdoor stuff so maybe we could mix it up.”

Bex felt her smile freeze on her face. “Mix it up? Like…find a boardgame café with a patio?”

“Nah,” Kevin laughed. “Like that time we played ultimate frisbee. Or we could play touch football or have another baseball night? Something like that?”

“Those all sound like something. That could be done. By people.” Outside game night. Outside. Game night? They were words. But did they go together? No. No, they did not.

“Are you sure that would be okay because your voice got kinda high there at the end and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna push or anything.” Aw, and now he was looking all nervous again and that was no good.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Okay. Bex could suck it up. She could do this. “We can absolutely figure out a fun—” (hngh) “—outdoor—” (oh, god) “—game night that you can invite Sylvie too and we’ll be fun friends and convince her that you’re actually cool.”

“If I needed to convince her of that, I wouldn’t be doing something with all of you people,” Kevin shot back. “Or at least not Ruzek.”

Bex swatted at him with a laugh. (Although that was fair.) “I’ll get a chat going and we’ll figure out some dates and ideas for you to take back to Sylvie, sound good?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “Really good. Thanks, Bex.”

“No worries.” She gave him a pat before he wandered off back toward the CPD dugout and sighed. The things she did for her gang.

Outdoor Game Night. Good lord.

“Come on, people,” Dr. Abrams called out. “Break is over in five minutes. Let’s finish this.”

***

Chris

By the beginning of the seventh inning, the clowns at 21 were still leading except now it was nine to seven. 51 was giving it their all. Still hustling as hard as they could.

Too hard, it turned out.

A gasp went through the crowd when Shay and Cruz both went the ball at the same time and collided in the out field. Hard.

Will and Connor were already jogging out onto the scene as if their whole team wasn’t made up of first responders, but the support was nice. Especially considering how much Shay’s nose was bleeding.

Not broken was the verdict. Which was good. Real good. But it meant Shay was out for the rest of the game.

She glared at him from her seat in the dugout. “It’d be nice if you could try to look less happy about this,” she sniped.

“I’m not happy! Not happy at all! I hate that you got hurt, Shay. It’s terrible. Want me to get you some ice?”

“Will’s already getting it,” she grumbled, waving him off. “Don’t worry about me. Just say it. What you’ve wanted to say all day.”

Chris fought back the grin that wanted to burst out as he turned to his two spare players.

“Tony. Get out there, man. You’re in the game.”

***

Connor

Everyone clapped for Shay when she came out to wave at the crowd and they announced that she was okay. Tony went out to take her place in left field.

Connor turned to Bex who was pretty vibrating with excitement beside him. “Are we happy with this turn of events?”

She made a face. “Not happy that Shay’s hurt,” she said. “Obviously. But we are happy that Tony’s in play. Wait until they’re at bat. You’ll see.”

The rest of the first half went well for the CPD team. They got another run when Mouse made it home. All of the spectators had picked up on Bex’s cheer by this point so he was faced with a rousing cry of “GOAL!” from all sides. Plus a crew of people waving signs with his name on them wildly.

He took it about as well as Mouse seemed to take any attention which was to duck his head with a little smile as he jogged back to the dugout.

That was the last of their luck though as three outs in quick succession had the teams switching places. Chris gave another rousing pep talk before 51 started up at the plate and that plus the addition of Tony seemed to have an effect.

Given how the game had gone so far, Connor wasn’t too sure how they were going to overcome a four run lead, but soon enough the bases were loaded.

But then Cruz stuck out.

And Stella stuck out.

One more out left and Tony was coming up to the plate.

Connor curled his fingers into the fence, holding his breath.

***

Chris

It wasn’t the be all, end all for them to win this game. It was for charity.

But Chris really, really wanted to win.

He wanted those bragging right and he wanted them bad.

Once Tony had been put into play, it seemed like they might be in reach, but now they were down two outs and Chris was praying to anyone who might be listening to throw a little luck their way.

Tony was finally up to bat. They could do this. “Come on, Tony,” Chris said, clapping his hands, getting everyone else to join in on the cheers. “You got this, buddy. You got this.”

The first pitch came through.

“Ball one,” Dr. Abrams called out.

Okay. Okay. That wasn’t a strike. That was fine. Tony was waiting for his pitch. Chris could respect that.

By the time they got through two strikes and two more balls, Chris was maybe starting to sweat a little.

“Tony!” Bex called out and Chris squawked at her. They did not need any trash talk right now, Rebecca Marie Freakin’ Herrmann.

She ignored him and waited until Tony turned to look at her. She nodded at him once. Slowly and silently. Tony nodded back. Just as slowly and silently.

What the—what the hell was that? Chris buried his face in his clipboard. He couldn’t watch this.

He looked up.

He closed his eyes.

He opened them and peered over the top of the clipboard.

Sam wound up and let loose with the pitch. Tony narrowed his eyes, adjusting his stance and—

—swung and—

CRACK!

Chris felt his heart stop until he caught sight of the ball in the air, flying, flying—straight out of the damn park. Mouch was slapping at his shoulders and people were cheering and his crew was rounding the bases—one, two, three, four! Four runs taking them to a total of eleven!

WHICH DEFINITELY BEAT TEN!

They won. They won!

Chris leapt into the fray, jumping around and cheering with the rest of his team as 21 clapped semi-reluctantly, but mostly with good-humour in the background.

They went through and did the good game handshakes and Chris was semi-certain he’d kept his grin to a respectable level of just a teeny bit smug.

Because they frickin’ won.

“This time,” Platt said, as she gripped his hand, apparently reading his mind at the same time.

“It’s the only time that matters until next time,” Chris shot back. Nothing was wrecking this high. Cindy and the kids came over to cover him in hugs and congratulations. Kol ambled up behind them, fully decorated with dandelions dotting his fur and a crown of them on top of his head. “You’re a good boy, Kol,” Chris said, crouching down to give him a scratch. “Even if you tried to destroy me. I forgive you. Yes, I do. You’re a good boy.”

“Daddy, can Kol sleep over again tonight?” Annabelle asked him, sweet as can be. Since they’d put their foot down about getting a dog of their own (not something they wanted to juggle with a little one on the way), Annabelle had been working double time on her efforts to have some sort of time share arrangement with Will over Kol.

Chris shot a look at Cindy who shrugged. Seemed like one more night would be manageable. “Fine by us, sweetheart,” Chris said, running a hand over Annabelle’s hair. “But you know who you need to ask…”

Annabelle was already off and running. “Uncle Willlllllll!”

***

Mouse

Now that the game was done, both sides were mingling, enjoying the last of the food from the canteen as the tunes started up again. Mouse leaned against the fence, smiling to himself as he watched Bex and Otis try to teach the Herrmann kids what he had to assume were dance moves from the fifties? Maybe the sixties?

The two of them had miles more confidence than skill, but the kids didn’t seem to care.

Especially since, as Mouse looked a little closer, it definitely seemed like Otis and Bex were fully making up moves now, egging each other on.

“Gonna join them?” Chuck asked, coming over to join him with the rest of the group close behind.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Mouse said and Chuck’s answering smile said he did.

“We had a lovely talk with her earlier,” Chuck continued and Mouse froze, then consciously tried to unfreeze because a talk was just a talk. It didn’t have to spell disaster.

“Our initial impression stands,” Ada said, jerking a nod at the Bex and Otis show. “We like her. A lot.”

“Glad to have your seal of approval,” Mouse murmured and he was. Their opinions held value for him. Held weight.

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Chuck said, equally as quietly. Only for Mouse’s ears. “I have faith the two of you will get there in the end.”

Mouse watched as Bex threw her head back, laughing as she jumped around now with Boden and Donna joining the fray.

He hoped so. More than anything ever before, he hoped so.

***

Bex

“We took such good care of him, Uncle Will and he had so much fun and I promise we’ll take extra good care of him tonight,” Annabelle said, following Will around as they packed up the canteen supplies. “He probably won’t even want to come home…”

Bex could not even look at Will after that because she knew she’d burst out laughing. She could totally picture the look Annabelle was giving him right now. He didn’t stand a chance.

“You know,” Will began and Bex shook her head knowing already where this was going. And Chris said she was a pushover. “I think Kol would love to have another sleepover with you.” Careful pause. “But he should probably come back to my place after that because routine is important for dogs.”

Oooh, good save.

“Thank you, Uncle Will!” Annabelle wrapped her arms around his neck, strangling him a little, but Will didn’t seem to mind. He whispered something in her ear and she turned to Bex when she finally let him go.

And uh-oh. There was that look.

Will smirked at her.

“Auntie Bex,” Annabelle said, wandering over to her. “Uncle Will said you were sad about not coming to the sleepover last night but you can come tonight if you want? I know Mommy and Daddy will say yes.”

Like she would ever say no.

“Miss Annabelle, I would love to come over for a sleepover,” Bex said, reaching out for a high five which Annabelle happily slapped. “I need to run home and grab some stuff, but I’ll be over soon.”

Cindy and Chris would probably be happy to have the help kid-wrangling after the long day they’d had and she had plans to meet Chris for breakfast tomorrow anyway so this just simplified things.

“Hey!” Emery came up to grab another load for the car. “I’m headed over to Kira and Malia’s tonight. Girls’ night sleepover. Want to come?”

“I’ve actually received an exclusive invite to a Herrmann house sleepover complete with dogs and small children,” Bex said. “But thank you for the offer.”

“Next you’re going to tell me there’s a pillow fort to go with this exclusive invite,” Emery said, giving her a mock pout.

“I mean, it’s not out of the question.” Things could get crazy over there.

“Lucky!” Emery picked up one of the last boxes and started heading back for the car. “I’m texting Malia and Kira back. They need to up their game.”

Bex laughed, picking up the actual last box as Will and Connor took down the last table. She walked by them on her way to the car. “Looks like you have the place to yourselves tonight, boys.” She leaned in to whisper at Will, shaking her head. “As if that wasn’t your plan all along. Diabolical, sir. Di-a-bolical.”

Will didn’t bother to deny it. Just shot her a little smirk.

Whatever. He wasn’t getting a pillow fort.

Probably.

Hunh—nope, not asking.

***

Will

Will crowded Connor against the car after they loaded the last of their supplies in the trunk. “Did you hear that? Got the place all to ourselves.”

“I did,” Connor said, raising his eyebrows. “Neatly done, if not, as Bex said, fairly diabolical.”

“Well, I had plenty of motivation because certain promises were made this morning,” Will said, tugging at Connor’s cap. “About you…and this outfit…”

“Will,” Connor said slowly as he leaned in.

“Connor.”

“Sooner you get in the car,” Connor said, gaze heating up. “The sooner I can fulfill those promises.”

He was in his seat, buckled, and already reaching over to open Connor’s door before the man could blink.

Grudge Match Day was turning out to be not so bad after all.

Click here to read Chapter Ten. Click here to read Chapter Eleven. Click here to read Chapter Twelve. Click here to read Chapter Thirteen. Click here to read Chapter Fourteen. Click here to read Chapter Fifteen. Click here to read Chapter Sixteen.

Click here to read 500 Miles on ao3:

More to come in October! (I have to get a project handed in for the end of the month. *sad trombone*)

Here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou,

#A Herrmann/Halstead Production #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #jay halstead #will halstead #christopher herrmann #oc character #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #a herrmann/halstead production #alternate universe #not canon #not beta read #romance #light angst #fluff #building relationships #shenanigans #team as family #family feels #friendship #healthy relationships #SO MUCH FLUFF

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 4454 (chapter 21)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad!

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

// sorry for missing two Fridays! I've been super busy, and time flies unbelievably fast, so here's me, giving you a long chapter to pay off my debts!

21. Jealousy, jealousy

A knock on the doors pulls you back from your thoughts. Although, it was a shame to admit, you were scrolling on your phone for a good hour now, looking for an apartment to rent closer to Nelson and Murdock, because you didn't want to wake up extra early just to get here on time. Matt was reading something, from time to time letting out a tired sigh and changing the papers when he was done moving his fingers across the dots. The armchair in your shared office was more comfortable than it looked at first. 

Karen opens the doors and the sight makes her take two steps back. 

"Afternoon, Miss Page." Wesley greets with a smile plastered on his face. For Karen, it looked murderous.

"You-"

"Karen, who's there?" Foggy shouts from the office, getting up, while Matt makes his way towards the door quicker than you.

"Gentlemen." Wesley nods at the men, and sees you emerging from the office, eyes softening at the sight. "Y/n."

"Hello, James." You ignore Karen's stare and walk towards the clothes rack, ready to pick up your coat. Matt tries to read the room as quick as possible, yet the disturbed emotions were mixed up into one.

"I hope I'm not late, the traffic held me back." Wesley steps inside, uninvited, taking your coat from the rack, and helping you put it on.

"Mister... James," Foggy speaks up first from the gang, remembering only Wesley's first name,  "I hope you didn't forget about something very important and came here to fulfil it."

"I'm afraid I'm not following, Mr Nelson." Wesley shoots a distracted smile, smoothing the material of the coat on your arms. Matt hears the soft shuffle and feels anger rising.

"You owe us money for Healy's case." Matt says straightforwardly, and you squint a little at him.

"Well, I haven't heard anything from Mr Healy since the court session, but as far as I remember, you did not win, Mr Murdock." Wesley says calmly. He knew that him coming here would ignite some fire in the office. And he absolutely loved it.

"It's because he killed himself, didn't you see that on the news?" Foggy backs up Matt, while Karen waits for a perfect moment to intervene. 

"No, haven't heard of it. As for your money problem, my employer decided that you, gentlemen, did not fulfil our agreement." Wesley looks at you in the corner of his eye.

"Our agreement was Healy not sitting behind the bars, and he's not there, is he?" Matt presses a little more.

"He's not alive either, is he? Besides, you didn't win the case fair and square, did you? The jury was not doing their job properly, right?" 

"Yeah, and I think you're behind this, Wesley." Matt takes a sudden step forward, and Foggy is quick to stop him from whatever he was planning to do.

"I have no idea why are you attacking me, Mr Murdock, when I'm simply an intermediary in this situation. Now, if you excuse me, I have not come here to be accused of things that I'm not involved in." Wesley handles the situation surprisingly calm, and you look at him curiously, not sure how to behave after this scene. 

"I think we have to be somewhere, don't we, James?" You take your purse and put your hand on Wesley's chest, slowly guiding him towards the exit. He complies like a puppy, wanting to be led anywhere, only by you.

"Yes, sure, excuse me, gentlemen, Miss Page." Wesley quickly nods to everyone, not smiling until you close the doors behind you.

"How are you feeling?" He asks as soon as you reach the stairs, standing on your left and gently touching your arm for a second.

"Uh, good, yeah... Just surprised by this whole thing." You shake your head slightly, still stuck in the previous moment.

"I don't think we should talk here, maybe when we reach the diner?"

"Yes, sure." You answer and look at Wesley, who has offered you his elbow. For a second you remember how Matt always does this, but he's blind, so there's no hidden context... But this elbow offer definitely has its reasons.

"It's the good one, correct?" He reassures, waiting for you to answer.

"Correct, James." You grin slightly and cross your arm with his, both walking down, side by side.

"I can't believe he comes here and says it's not his problem because Healy's dead." Foggy walks around the office, almost frustrated.

Matt rubs his forehead in a hypnotic manner. It was his fault that Healy killed himself. And he could do nothing to fix the situation now.

"Foggy, this won't help. I'm more surprised that y/n went out with him." Karen says, not even hiding disgust on her face.

"Well, they've known each other for a while now." Foggy finally sits down, but starts moving his leg up and down, driving Matt insane.

"You think they're dating?" Karen beats Matt to this question. Good, because him asking that would appear rather suspicious.

"No... Maybe?" Foggy rubs his chin in thought.

"This would be stupid, don't you think?" Matt asks, finally joining the conversation. He stopped listening to you and Wesley the moment you entered the diner across the street.

"Why?"

"Well, I get the impression that she knows her own worth." Matt answers mysteriously.

"Everyone has their weaknesses. Maybe hers are men with big egos and glasses." Foggy laughs, yet Matt feels ambiguity floating around with that sentence.

"Let's not waste our lunch break, let's go eat somewhere?" Karen changes topic, feeling the hunger creeping.

"Sure, what about that place across the street? I heard it was good." Matt offers immediately.

"I was going to suggest take out, but yeah, sure." Foggy says reluctantly, already rising from his seat.

"Great."

"They think so. But no. It's not up to me."

***

"So, you owe them money?" It comes out of your mouth more as a question rather than statement or accusation, and Wesley feels that you're not going to push it too hard on him.

"Oh, interesting." You hum, taking a sip of water.

"You know what I'm interested in?" Wesley asks, making himself comfortable on the little couch.

"How'd I end up here?" You force a laugh, looking at the people passing by the window of the diner, hurrying to find the best spot for their lunch break.

"I would've put it in a different way, but yes." He says softly, hand resting on the table, for some reason itching to touch yours. 

"Well, you already know the news," you roll your eyes upon remembering the night at the office, "then I got an offer from Nelson and Murdock to work for them."

"Why here? I mean, you look like you belong to a big company, not a small office."

That's a weird reasoning. "Well, they were kind enough to reach out first. And after that horrendous case, I'm sure no other company would've wanted me." You shoot a small smile and nod to the waiter who brings the coffees.

Wesley hums in thought. "You have any idea why were you attacked?"

"I guess I just got in a way, you know, became something of collateral damage." You answer briefly.

Matt, Foggy and Karen step inside, yet you don't see them with your back turned on the entrance. Wesley, however, closely watches them walk towards the corner seats, diagonally from the place you two were chatting.

"So the infamous Devil of Hell's Kitchen wasn't after you?" Wesley asks, and you look at him dumbfounded for a moment.

"No... I don't think so."

"But you did get hurt because of him?"

"Well... Yeah." you answer. "Let's not talk about that right now, please." You shake your head slightly and Wesley watches how your hair move flawlessly, hugging your face in a nice shape.

"Sure, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Wesley answers shrugging.

"How's your company doing?" You ask now, turning the talk from yourself. 

Wesley smiles shyly. 'The company' was doing well, so well that all the successful deals that Fisk made last week were worth more than a whole month's job. "Great, perfect... And profitable."

"You look happy about it."

"I suppose I am," Wesley smirks, "but not only about my business." He adds quickly, and Matt turns his head to hear you better.

"What else makes you happy, James?" You ask, looking him right in the eyes, noticing the slight twinkle.

"Probably the fact that you agreed to meet today. I was beginning to think you were going to ignore me."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare to do such a thing." You smirk, slightly leaning forward.

"Ugh, they're all over each other." Karen says, intently watching the two of you over Matt's shoulder. During the lunchtime, the place became so crowded that it was impossible for you to notice your new coworkers. 

"Are you jealous or something?" Foggy asks, distracted, yet he doesn't miss Matt's furrowed eyebrows.

"No, just he doesn't seem reliable. And bad for our business." Karen blows out some air and takes a sip of her coffee, shifting closer to Matt. The latter takes a deep breath, pulling himself farther away. 

"Maybe we could use this." Matt says through the gritted teeth, not believing what he was going to say now. But it wasn't the first time that he was offering stupid things.

"How? And most importantly, for what?" Foggy deadpans, eyes flying between his two friends.

"We can find out who Wesley works for... And get our money back." 

"Matt, I think you're pushing it too far. A man like him will never reveal his business." Foggy takes a look at the two of you again, and notices how your and Wesley's hands are almost touching in the middle of the table. With the sun shining directly through the huge window of the diner, the scene looks rather romantic. Even for a blind man.

"Not to us, no." Karen catches up with the talk, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"No, no, she will never agree to this." Foggy's eyes widen upon realization, and he shakes his head quickly. 

"It doesn't mean that we shouldn't try. Foggy, don't you want to get the money back? I thought it mattered to you a lot." Karen presses, and Matt focuses again on you. Why did your heartbeat pick up so suddenly?

"Oh, no." You mutter at the sight in front of you.

"What a small city it is, right, y/n?" Robert asks, standing right in front of your table and holding a steaming cup in his hands. The smile on his face is the same one he has been carrying since high school, hair brushed upwards, in order to make him look younger than he was, although there was not a single indication on his face that he was nearing 30s. But neither you looked your age.

"Robert?" You ask, pretending to be taken by surprise, in the corner of your eye noticing Wesley pull his hand back under the table in an awkward manner.

"May I?" Robert gestures to the seat next to you, smiling like a fool. 

"Yes, sure." You move all the way to the window, leaving room for Robert to sit down. The couch is too small for two people, so your side is touching his. He's warm as always, and suddenly you feel like you're at home again. But the false sense of safety is disturbed when Robert accidentally hits your right arm, and you close your eyes for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. 

"My name's James." Wesley extends his hand across the table and Robert shakes it firmly.  

"Robert." He shoots a distacted smile, and you already feel the tension rising between the two men. 

"So, your dad gave me your contacts... But I just thought I might surprise you." Robert starts, awkwardly rubbing his thighs. The material of his leather jacket moving sends shivers to your whole body.

"Yeah, he mentioned that. Also told me you're still in touch with him... After all those years." You say, taking a sip of your almost cold drink. 

"Well, you and I broke up. Not me and your dad." Robert says, smiling. You notice the familiar look in his eyes and fear the worst.

Wesley clears his throat loudly, acknowledging his presence. The atmosphere gets awkward in an instant.

"And what are you guys doing here? Business meeting?" Robert looks at the two of you, both dressed formally on a Monday aftertoon, which in his eyes meant business lunch. Yet there were no documents in sight.

"Yes." You say quickly, while Wesley says "no" at the same time.

"Okay..." Robert's eyes fly between you and Wesley, your cheeks slightly rosy now. 

"We're on our lunchbreaks, that's it." You come up with an excuse, apologetically looking at Wesley. His face holds the same steady emotion, yet his heart aches a little, and it's up to him to deal with the storm that was brewing inside of him.

"Oh, you're also a lawyer?" Robert squints at Wesley, making him smirk a little.

"No, I'm a businessman. Law is way out of my league." 

So is y/n, both Robert and Matt thought at the same time. 

Matt continues listening, interested in whom this new person is, but trying to keep the track of the conversation going on at his table, although it is worth mentioning that multitasking was never Matt's strength.

"What about you, Robert?" Wesley asks, fixing his glasses with an easy movement, and you steal a side glance at his jacket moving when he lifts his arm.

"I'm a police officer." He answers, proudly, straightening up and pushing his chest forward.

"Responsible job. Are you from around here?" Wesley looks intently at Robert, studying every twitch of his muscles. A face to remember that's for sure. He might have to take a closer look at Robert after all.

"Sure it is. But no, I'm not from here. Listen, y/n, I have to run a couple of errands now, I wanted to ask you," Robert takes a sip of his coffee, not actually hurrying anywhere, meanwhile Matt holds his breath, waiting for the question. "Can I crash at your place tonight? Hotel's fully booked, and I'm in town only for a few days." You look at him surprised for a moment, and Robert is quick to add, "if it's no bother, of course."

"Yeah, of course. I presume my dad gave you my adress as well." You swallow a rude huffing, restraining yourself from making a scene in public. Robert knew you too well to not know what the quick lip-biting meant, even after the years you spent separately, old habits haven't changed a bit.

"He did. I'll come by later this evening then." Robert stands up, hesitantly. Karen and Foggy find themselves in a heated conversation about the pretzels that are sold in the diner, that they miss all the action at your table.

"Yeah, bye." You smile slightly and watch Robert leave the diner. "Sorry about all of this." You look down at your hands on the table, feeling somewhat embarassed in front of Wesley. 

"No, it's okay.  How do you two know each other?" Wesley asks, and Matt feels grateful for the first time that Wesley asked this.

"Uh... We went to school together. That's it." You lie, partially.

"Oh." Both men catch up on your lie, that Robert was something more than just a former classmate. The way he was looking at you made it all clear to Wesley. His phone lights up. It's Fisk. "I'm so sorry, y/n, but I'm needed back at work." Wesley stands up abruptly.

"It's alright, I must get going too." You shift on the couch, ready to stand up as well. 

Wesley looks at the screen, getting another message, saying 'urgent matter', and hesitates for a moment, before leaning to quickly kiss your cheek. You feel taken back by this, and blush colors your cheeks. "Goodbye, y/n."

"Goodbye, James." You say to him in return, and watch how he hurries off into the busy street.

Matt clenches his fist under the table, nails digging into his palm, slight pain clouds his mind for a mere moment only. "He's gone." Karen notices, and then quickly turns her head to the side, yet not fast enough, because you've already spotted them when you stood up to get your coat.

"Well, well, what a coincidence, what are you guys up to?" You sit next to Foggy, and notice Matt slouching and almost as red as a tomato. "You okay, Murdock?" 

"Um, yeah, yeah, it's just a little hot in here. Isn't it?" Matt tries to play it off, yet lying appeared to be his another flaw. 

"I wouldn't say so." You shake your head slightly, taking a note of mutual discomfort at the table. 

"We should head back to the office, right?" Foggy breaks the ice again, feeling like this is his main role from now on.

"Yeah, the court's tomorrow, and we still need to find Melissa's cousin." Matt agrees, yet he's the last one to leave the table, purposely stalling behind, just to get to you.

The slight breeze hits your face outside, getting under your unbuttoned coat and layers of clothes. Matt stops just outside the diner, one hand holding your offered arm, the other quickly patting his pockets. Foggy and Karen cross the street and disappear in the building.

"Where have I put my wallet?" Matt laughs, still pretending to be searching for it.

"Your left pant pocket." You say, clearly seeing through Matt.

"Oh, right, thanks." He smiles cheekily, straightening himself again. "You're not going to the court, or have you changed your mind?"

"No, I don't want to create chaos, although there's plently of it already."

"So... Are you and Wesley...?" Matt tries cautiously, as if afraid that you might  leave him here in the middle of the street. 

"Are we what?" You play with already flustered Matt, and see his forehead and cheeks becoming redder withing seconds. Maybe this was caused by the wind. At the exact same time he asked this question. 

"Dating?"

"No, just acquaintances."

"Going on a date?"

"Business lunch." 

"What business are you making then?" Matt presses further, waiting for some kind of confirmation or contradiction. 

"A little nosy, aren't you, Murdock?" You ask, quickly checking how busy the road is. Matt firmly holds onto your forearm, making you feel slightly dizzy.

"Well, I am a lawyer."

"Just admit that you can't live without asking questions." You laugh shortly, finally reaching the doors of the building.

"Well, that's my way of seeing things." 

"By asking me if I was on a date?" 

"Yes." He hesitates with the answer.

"And what if I was?" You turn the game around, and wait for his reaction.

"I'd congratulate you... On finally opening yourself up for others." Matt squeezes out with great struggle, biting the inside of his cheek almost  to the point of blood. 

"Really?" You raise your eyebrow, noticing the movement of his mouth. You hated to admit to yourself now, but you just couldn't stop looking at his lips. "You don't know me long enough to know about me opening myself up for others."

"I'm good at reading people."

"No one's good at that."

"That's my hidden talent."

"Yeah, I don't know about that... See I'm a lawyer, I need facts."

You were offering yourself to his 'reading', yet as much as he wanted to bloat to someone about his abilities and the hightened senses, he couldn't do this with you, not right now. Not when he felt conflicted and jealous about your dates in the diner.  Shit. So that's what it was.

He felt jealous. 

"No facts, I assume." You say after the silence that turned awkward quikly. For some reason, this was always happening with Matt around. 

"No, not now. Next time maybe." He answers seriously, quickening his pace when you start climbing the stairs.

"Can't wait to prove you wrong. Again." You lean closer to his ear and whisper the last word, making Matt inhale sharply. 

*** 

Return home was riddled with uneasiness. Why the hell did you agree to welcome Robert to your apartment? You blamed your dad again, and his weird fondness of this guy. Pulling to the main street, you notice two unfamiliar cars, one empty, and one occupied. In the latter, two guys were engaged in what seemed a heated conversation with somebody on the phone. Turning your head to the building, you see Robert, standing there with a duffel bag and a bag full of something hanging on his other arm. 

"Well, well, you weren't lying this time." You say, nearing the main doors with an easy step.

"When was I ever lying?" He smirks with the same idiotic expression and you feel like you've gone back in time. 

"Oh, I recall couple of times, that's for sure." You reach to pull the door handle, when Robert grabs it first, allowing you to go inside before him.

"Don't trouble yourself now, y/n." 

"It's no trouble when it's always there."

"So, you're still thinking of me, huh?" He hides his smile when you turn to look at him with raised eyebrows. 

"No, but you know," You stop to take out your keys, "I'm cursed with remembering unecessary things." 

"Well, if you remember these things so well," he drops his bag next to the entrance to the kitchen and makes his way towards the counter, "maybe they're more important than you think."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not, you know me, serious fella." He leans with his back on the counter, curiously watching your every movement like a cat. You pour yourself a glass of water and take a sip. "You look kind of stressed."

"Not a very nice thing to tell a girl." Suddenly you lose the desire to drink and pour almost full glass back into the sink, and walk towards the sofa, kicking your heels off your feet. Slight shuffling behind you informs that Robert dropped his jacket. Minutes later, he sits down on the opposite side of the sofa, thankfully leaving some space between you.

"We both know you're not an ordinary girl." He turns on the TV, surfing through the channels, until he finds one showing a baseball match. 

For some reason you find the atmosphere domestic. And so... desirable. "What are you doing in Hell's Kitchen?"

"Business, met with some guys from the precinct. I'm running for the Sherrif's office."

"I know." You finally turn to look at him, pulling your eyes from the TV. 

"Your dad told you, right?"

"Yeah. Didn't expect that from you, to be honest." You say, watching his expression soften when your eyes meet his.

"Cause I'm too good for that position?"

"I would've said that only complete losers and fat old men run for the Sherrif's office." You bite, slightly smirking.

"Ouch." He grabs his heart, and your eyes follow the movement of his muscles, flexing under a long-sleeved shirt. "So, how's work in that big fancy lawyer firm?"

"Good... Because I left."

"Really? And I thought that it was your dream."

"It was, until it became unimportant. I have other priorities now." You briefly look at the TV, when the cheers erupt.

"Like what?" He leans towards you, meaning that he's ready to listen to every word you'll say.

"Like none of your business, Muller." 

"Ah, the last name calling, thought you'd stopped doing that." Robert shakes his head slightly to himself, earning a side eye from you.

"Old habits die hard." You notice how he cut his hair, shorter on the sides, the rest a little bit longer, but not too long.

"Like your smoking, right? Haven't stopped since that time we snuck out of my parents house to drink in that abandoned hotel?" Robert smiles fondly, and you feel your cheeks getting warmer. That night was the night of many first times.

"I find it hard getting rid of the things that give me so much pleasure." You say in a teasing voice,  shaking your head, so that your hair cover your red cheeks from him.

"You're so adorable when you're blushing." Words with no consideration slip out of his mouth, turning your insides up and down.

"You know how I hate to be called adorable."

"I know." He stands up, going to the bag he put on the counter and returns with two bottles of beer. "So, you and that guy from luch, you two a thing?" Robert asks nonchalantly, masking the tone of jealousy with the loud shuffling when opening the bottles. 

"Maybe."

"Oh. He seems okay...For a douchebag." He hands you the bottle, not sitting, but walking somewhere towards the kitchen again. Or so you thought.

"I'm starting to think that you're calling everyone I might potentially date a douchebag." You take a sip of the cold beer, and feel shivers go down your back when warm hands gently touch your tense shoulders.

"You're right." He says calmly, running his strong hands along your shoulders. You put the beer on the coffee table and lean back, your body responding to the soft touch on its own. "Did he also bring you flowers?" Robert eyes the wildflowers in the vase, as if they were laughing at him.

"That you will never know." You close your eyes, and exhale through your nose when he presses your shoulders with a little bit more. 

"I think of myself as a really good interrogator."

"You have yet to prove your abilities to me."

"I'm not trying to impress you, y/n," Robert says, voice getting deeper, hands slowing down, and all of a sudden, his voice is right next to your ear, "because I have done it a long time ago." 

He turns you to face him, and smashes your lips together into a suffocating kiss, not letting go of the back of your head and jaw, pouring his bottled emotions into the moment. You feel so conflicted inside, so lost in the sea of your own feelings. Robert is kissing way better than he did in highschool, yet as before, so now, you don't feel the spark. Nothing apart from the hot breath on your face, no feeling of deperation or passion... No feeling that you're his one and only salvation.

No, the kiss feels wrong on so many levels, and when images of Matt kissing you, touching you as if you were the sin he always wanted to make, resurface, you push Robert's hands away from you, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "This is not okay."

"I know. My fault... I just-" He begins, feeling embarrassed, and steps away from the couch, gathering his thoughts.

"You don't have to say anything else... I'll give you a blanket and a towel." You get up, pushing yourself up on your right arm and slightly gasp under your breath when pain shoots through your whole body. "I hope you're okay with sleeping on the couch."

Robert takes in your pained expression, yet he thinks of it as a cause of his actions, not something that has nothing to do with him. "Yes, sure. Thank you, y/n."

"Of course." You mutter, and walk past him into your bedroom, trying to get the image of Matt's hands on your face out of your head, already knowing that tonight's sleep is going to be a nightmare, but not only for you.

#matt murdock #foggy nelson #matthew murdock #karen page #james wesley #marvel #daredevil fanfiction #marvel daredevil #netflix daredevil #wilson fisk #bound by law #lawyers #matt murdock x reader #matts superhearing complicates things for you #daredevil #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic

[the-conversation-pod]

The VIIB Awards 2024: Special Class

Finishing with Part 5 of 5 of the Very Important Internet BL Awards, we are handing out our awards for our special class dramas!

We will be awarding Honorable Mentions to shows that did something specifically notable, and we will be awarding awards for Best After School Special, Best Family Drama, and Best Slice-of-Life Drama.

Thank you for spending the last week with us! Please tag us with your own awards!

Timestamps

The timestamps will now correspond with chapters on Spotify for easier navigation.

00:00 - Welcome 01:23 - Introduction 03:03 - Interlude: The Beach - Moonlight (2016) 04:18 - Honorable Mention: The Day I Loved You 10:26 - Honorable Mention: Chen Yi and Ai Di 15:44 - Honorable Mention: Sasake and Miyano: Graduation 21:41 - Sixth Man: Mark Pakin Kuna-anuvit 31:33 - Standout Queer Narrative: Moonlight Chicken 38:02 - Standout Queer Narrative: The Warp Effect 41:30 - Standout Queer Narrative: What Did You Eat Yesterday? 2 46:54 - Outro

The Conversation Transcripts!

Thanks to the continued efforts of @ginnymoonbeam as transcriber, and @lurkingshan as an editor and proofreader, we are able to bring you transcripts of the episodes.

We will endeavor to make the transcripts available when the episodes launch, and it is our goal to make them available for past episodes (Coming soon thanks to @wen-kexing-apologist). When transcripts are available, we will attach them to the episode post (like this one) and put the transcript behind a Read More cut to cut down on scrolling.

Please send our volunteers your thanks!

00:00 - Welcome

NiNi

Welcome to The Conversation About BL, aka The Brown Liquor Podcast.

Ben

And there it is. I’m Ben.

NiNi

I’m NiNi.

Ben

And we’re you’re drunk Caribbean uncle and auntie here sitting on the porch in the rocking chairs.

NiNi

Four times a year we pop in to talk about what’s going on in the BL world.

Ben

We shoot the shit about stories and all the drama going into them. I review from a queer media lens.

NiNi

And I review from a romance and drama lens.

Ben

So if you like cracked-out takes and really intense emotional analysis…

NiNi

If you like talking about artistry, industry, and the discourse…

Ben

And if you generally just love simping…

NiNi

There is a lot of simping on this podcast…

Ben

We are the show for you!

[fanfare sound]

01:23 - Introduction

Ben

And we're back. We have reviewed all of the shows under the more traditional frameworks. We've gone over which talents we were really fond of, which pairings we're really fond of, who we thought did a great job assembling a show, and what were the bangers of the year.

It's time to award the shows so good that they would have skewed the results, or in our estimation, are not primarily driven by romance in a way that makes them fit under the traditional BL criteria.

NiNi

Here in our Special Class Awards, we have three award categories, and each award category can have multiple awardees, which is why it's special. [laughs] 

So our three categories are Honorable Mentions, the Sixth Man Award, and our Standout Queer Narratives Award. In Honorable Mentions, we're going to be acknowledging key contributions to the genre from various filming markets and traditions that are perhaps outside of the main and the ones that we discuss. In the Sixth Man Award, we want to acknowledge the most valuable and versatile supporting actor of the year. And under Standout Queer Narratives, we want to acknowledge queer works that are not primarily romances.

03:03 Interlude: The Beach - Moonlight (2016)

Kevin 

“That breeze feel good as hell man.”

Chiron

“Yeah it do.”

Kevin

“Sometimes round the way, where we live, you can catch this same breeze. It come through the hood and it’s like everything stop for a second ‘cause everyone just wanna feel it. Everything just get quiet, you know?”

Chiron

“And it’s like all you can hear is your own heartbeat, right?”

Kevin

“Yeah…feel so good, man. “

Chiron

“So good…. “

Kevin

“Hell, shit make you want to cry, it feel so good.”

Chiron

“You cry?”

Kevin

“Nah. But it makes me want to… What you cry about?” 

Chiron

“Shit, I cry so much sometimes I feel like I'ma just turn to drops.”

04:18 Honorable Mention: The Day I Loved You

NiNi

So let's start with our Honorable Mentions. And this year we have three. I'll let Ben take you through them.

Ben

The first one I want to acknowledge this year is a show from the Philippines called The Day I Loved You. [Applause sound] I don't think I ever actually managed to write about this show because you're reacting to a show that is fundamentally tragic. I remember watching it with Kyra, and we called it, like, the Nicholas Sparks BL of the year. 

In this show, we have a femme boy who's kind of bullied at school but doesn't seem to care about it. He ends up developing a thing with the new hot guy at the school who's here from Singapore, and there's, like, a love triangle with his best friend. And we realize that the reason why he's been holding back romantically in this story is because he has a debilitating condition that is gonna involve him declining and losing control of his limbs and other mobility along the way. So he's leery of beginning something with someone. 

The way this plays out is really beautiful. There's a richness to the way a lot of the Filipino storytelling is done that I really connect to all the time. Even when I'm not watching BL, I really like Filipino cinema when I have the opportunity to really engage with some of their work. And even though BL in the Philippines has been really struggling with the lack of investment right now. 

This show is really well produced—it's available on YouTube—and takes the dynamics here very seriously. The best friend is not going to be the one who's chosen because he doesn't want his best friend, who he knows loves him, to also go through the ugliness of his decline. His suitor in this eventually pushes past some of these barriers, but the show never downplays the seriousness of Eli's condition. His condition worsens. It is not a pretty experience. But there is this beautiful amount of heart in it. 

This show is the one that has stuck with me quietly all year long. I think about the show at least once a month or so, and have been trying to find a way to properly write about it. In a year where we didn't really have a lot to point to from the Philippines that we really thought a lot of folks should rally behind, this is one of the standouts that I think you all should go back and watch if you can handle a tragic romance, not unlike the experience you might have with a Nicholas Sparks movie or book.

NiNi

So, I have not seen The Day I Loved You because I feel like I am not emotionally capable of watching that right now. It's the same reason I haven't caught up on Eternal Yesterday. There are some things that I'm holding in reserve because I don't think that I have the emotional bandwidth or capacity to handle right now. But I was sort of following along while you and Kyra were doing your watch, and I am looking forward to getting around to it when I have the emotional wherewithal to stand up to the tragedy, because I do sometimes enjoy—I guess ‘enjoy’ is a strange word—but enjoy a good tragic romance. 

I tend to enjoy work from the Philippines, especially when the production quality lines up with the ideas they're trying to espouse. And so, given everything that you've said about it to me up until now, it's on my list. I just don't know when I'm going to get to it.

Ben

I think the production quality is about where The Boy Foretold by the Stars is. It's slightly under Gameboys.

NiNi

I think that's a good spot to land.

Ben

The music's good, like the song that they selected for the intro is a banger. It's called Sweet + Wild by YANCO—such an excellent song.

NiNi

I love Filipino music, as you are well aware, so really looking forward to that.

Ben

It's a really excellently put together little production. There's a lot of heart in the story and it takes its characters and its conceits really seriously, in a way that I found really compelling. And I continue to be really impressed with the way the Philippines explores Catholicism and Christianity inside of BL. It's one of the unique things that the Philippines can do, and I like that they do it well consistently.

NiNi

It's one of the things that draws me to them as well, being a lapsed Catholic myself. Lapsed? Former? What's the terminology these days? Having grown up Catholic, it's one of the things that does draw me to the Philippines, and I feel like I understand a lot of what they are getting into in their narratives and in their characters because of that.

Ben

The Day I Loved You from Regal Entertainment, directed by Easy Ferrer, starring Tommy Alejandrino as Nico, Raynald Tan as Eli, and Rabin Josh as Justine.

10:26 Honorable Mention: Chen Yi and Ai Di

NiNi 

Our next Honorable Mention award is not for a show. It is for a couple coming out of Taiwan from the show Kiseki: Dear To Me, Chen Yi and Ai Di. [Applause sound] It has been a long time, for me anyway, since a side couple completely took over the show from the main couple to the point that I'm kind of only slightly sure what happened to the [laughs] main couple on Kiseki? But I know for sure what happened to Chen Yi and Ai Di. [laughs]

Kiseki was a mixed bag. It was a strange year from Taiwan. Nothing really landed. They did quite a bit that I ended up, in the end, not watching. I think Ben, you watched most of it?

Ben

Unfortunately.

NiNi

It was a very strange year. The only thing that drew me in was Kiseki and then, it was a strange show. I didn't expect something like that from Lin Pei Yu. But the light in the tunnel was definitely Chen Yi and Ai Di, played by Nat Chen and Louis Chiang. 

They play orphans who basically grew up inside the mafia. Chen Yi thinks he's in love with the mafia boss, while Ai Di is in love with Chen Yi. Hijinks ensue. Let's just put it that way. Hijinks ensue. And then Ai Di goes to jail for four years, but before he goes to jail, he and Chen Yi have sex while Chen Yi is, shall we say, altered? And then Ai Di goes to jail and Chen Yi is left with his feelings trying to sort of understand how he feels and where he stands with Ai Di. Then when Ai Di gets out of jail, he's pissed, and trying to keep his distance from Chen Yi. But Chen Yi has now realized how in love he is, and he's not gonna let that stand. 

It is one of the crackheads ships I've ever seen. But also kind of delightful in a way? [laughs] But the important thing is that they really took over the show. I don't mean that in a critical way. I mean that of all the things that were happening on Kiseki, they were easily the most interesting. 

Ben 

So it was a weird year for Taiwan and part of why I wanted to talk about these two is because there's just been less activity from Taiwan and the BL front. Some of that has to do with a lot of complicating factors [laughs] we won't get into on this podcast. But in all the things released—quick aside, there is an interesting project happening right now in Taiwan in that the Friday Taiwanese BLs are being produced by a single company doing a dedicated for BL project. I don't think it's been that great personally, but it's rare that we get dedicated BL commitment in a time slot, and while I don't think the projects have been really strong, the things that Taiwan is good at remain. Like, the overall cast chemistry from Taiwan still remains the best. They are very good at getting the whole cast to believably play off of each other, even in characters who only interact once or twice in the whole show. It is always impressive and especially with the romantic and sexual chemistry. I enjoy the paired chemistry of actors from Taiwan, more [than] the other BL producing countries more often than not. 

In this particular show, I think both couples had really strong performances as couples with each other. And we ended up focusing on Ai Di and Chen Yi a lot because they're the mafia boys and Louis Chiang's character wears a choker the whole time, and is always trying to murder someone, and he's shorter than everyone, and everyone loves that! Every time I see this boy getting a little bit mad, I'm like, yes! Kill them! 

But they were really good. And it was funny, like, the show shifts towards the back half where we spend a great deal of time focusing on them, and they get the final shot of the show. It's so weird! This side couple legitimately won. I'm just amazed by that choice. 

NiNi 

A choice it definitely was. With all that said, Honorable Mention award to Chen Yi and Ai Di from Kiseki: Dear to Me from Taiwan, played by Nat Chen and Louis Chiang. 

15:44 Honorable Mention: Sasake and Miyano: Graduation

NiNi 

The third and final Honorable Mention award this year goes to an anime project. Sasaki and Miyano: Graduation. [applause sound] 

Ben, lead the way. 

Ben 

Okay! Let's talk about anime. So, yaoi is old, a lot older than people realize. We have art made by, we suspect to be women, going as far back as the 1400s, of guys sucking each others dicks. This is not a new phenomenon. At all.

And so, when we're talking about, like, what is BL doing, what is BL, where is BL going? A big question is always what is happening on the written front? What novels are popular in various cultures, and in, for Japan in particular, it's going to be manga. A significant amount of content is adapted directly from manga because manga is already successful, it has a built in fan base, and the manga itself serves as a storyboard and it's very easy to win fans over by taking popular panels and recreating them on screen for maximum impact. What's also notable is, when something is doing really well, it's going to get an anime adaptation. Anime is far more expensive to produce than live action content. 

So, Sasaki and Miyano is a story about these guys in high school. One is a little bit older and is going to be graduating soon. His name is Sasaki and he helps Miyano in an instant where these guys are bullying one of Miyano’s friends, and Miyano wants to jump in. Sasaki sees that Miyano wants to help, and he jumps in to help, kind of gets his ass whipped anyway, but the two of them start hanging out. 

Sasaki learns pretty early on that Miyano is a fudanshi—this is the boy version of a fujoshi—he reads BL all the time. He is one of us. But he doesn't think of himself as queer at the beginning of this. Sasaki ends up becoming very fond of Miyano, starts reading BL because it's very important to Miyano, and a relationship blossoms between them. Where this particular show is fascinating for me is because Miyano is a fudanshi, and Sasaki is not. And this is evinced most notably in the movie that released this year: Graduation, where Miyano’s understanding of what m/m romance is supposed to look like is influenced by BL, and we get this really incredible moment in the movie where after sorting through some of their stuff, they're having this moment that is sexually charged. And Miyano, who's shorter than Sasaki, and because he's more petite, a lot of people might expect him to be the uke-slash-bottom in this instance, he stops the moment that they're having and says, “I'm not an uke.” And this is also backed by the fact that Miyano does not have uke hair [laughs] but Sasaki does. 

NiNi 

[laughs] I know what that is now. 

Ben 

It also gets confused because Sasaki has yaoi hands. 

NiNi 

Okay, wait, pause. What are yaoi hands? 

Ben 

So whenever you're watching yaoi—animated yaoi—seme my hands are fucking enormous, because they want you to focus on their fingers and stuff, so their hands are fucking enormous. 

NiNi 

Listen, the things I learn on this show. 

Ben 

It's interesting because Sasaki, who just recognizes his attraction to Miyano, and maybe knew about himself already—it's a little unclear on that front. He doesn't care what position Miyano wants him to take, he just wants to be with Miyano. It's not that explicit, like the show's not going to point the camera at us and go, “Let's break down and talk about the [laughs] social politics of BL and how it impacts the youths’ maturation.” But it's apparent that it's one of the things it's thinking about because we get this really excellent presentation through Miyano, who is struggling to contextualize their relationship because his primary framework for understanding relationships between two men is formed by BL, which is not a great source, obviously [laughs] for this ‘cause BL is fictional, and is trying to just have fun with a lot of readers preconceptions of stuff. So, we get to watch them figure out what their relationship is going to be while deconstructing some BL presumptions. And it's a really enjoyable experience watching this really adorable little show. 

NiNi 

My brain is still stuck on yaoi hands. 

Ben 

All right, legit. Legit. You can pause right now and you can go Google yaoi hands. It's a whole thing. 

NiNi 

I believe you. [laughs] I'm gonna wait until after the show. So… 

Ben 

Ginny is in the fucking transcript right now Googling ‘yaoi hands.’ 

[both laugh]

NiNi 

Ginny, I don't know if I should say I'm sorry or you're welcome. 

Ben 

The third and final award goes to Sasaki and Miyano, developed by Studio Dean. 

21:41 Sixth Man: Mark Pakin Kuna-anuvit

NiNi 

Our next category of awards is the Sixth Man Award. We are going to name the Sixth Man award for its inaugural awardee, and the inaugural Sixth Man awardee is one Khun Mark Pakin Kuna-anuvit. [fanfare sound] Mark Pakin, the most valuable and versatile supporting actor of the year. So this award shall forever be known after this as the Mark Pakin Sixth Man Award. 

Bestie, I want you to go first here. Why is Mark Pakin not just our inaugural winner, but why is this award being named after him? 

Ben 

It's easy to get caught up in the ships, and the leads, and all the actors, and the big romance parts. But a big part of any successful story is going to be how well the lead characters play off of their supporting characters. It's notable when you look at Mark's credits since 2021, when he first appeared in a small role in I Promised You the Moon, since then every single show he's been in has been one of the highlight shows of the year. 

Mark was in Bad Buddy, My School President, The Warp Effect, Moonlight Chicken, Only Friends, and now Last Twilight. Mark picks good projects and he makes them better because he can play whatever is needed of him in each of these shows. And because, as NiNi says, I bring the lore, when you watch the behind the scenes stuff and what people say about Mark, he is a huge presence behind the scenes helping manage morale and the overall mood of the set when he's present. Mark is working even when the camera is not in front of him, and making sure people are taken care of, and making sure people are grounded, and making sure that people stay in the right headspace so that they can do the work. And it clearly pays off. 

Mark is really talented and you can feel how effective he was as one of the oldest actors on My School President in particular, and helping Gemini in a lot of his scenes. Mark plays so well with Fourth in Moonlight Chicken. Mark has a couple of moments with Earth in Moonlight Chicken that I still think about, like particularly the scene where Saleng receives the dowry gift from Jim, or the scene where he's leaving in, like, episode one and he's kind of shuffling out of the place. Or even just his goofy ass showing up at the end now that he's moved into, like, a value position at the water park he's working at. 

Like, it's so incredible to watch Mark work whenever he's on screen. You are just so excited that he's back on screen and he does that completely from a supporting role. He is doing a great job without stealing the show or the scene from the other people that are in it. No disrespect to some of the other actors out there who are really talented, but they can't help but chew the scenery and take over every moment that they're in. Mark is really good at dialing in his performance to exactly where it needs to be in any scene, any moment. He can go really high or really low. He can go big or small as needed, and then turn it on a dime. And it's so impressive to watch. It's notable that every show he's been in has rated highly with audiences. And I just at this point find it hard to not see a pattern with his presence, and people's general love of his characters, and the shows and the storylines around where his character is involved. 

NiNi 

This year I watched Mark's play—technically six, if you consider the Our Skyy: My School President AU?

Ben 

Kind of counts. We'll call it six. We had six different versions of Mark Pakin on our screen this year. 

NiNi 

And all of them were different. Every single one of them was different. And if you expand out to his other roles, every role that he has ever played, he is a different person. I do not know how he does that. I talked in the Moonlight Chicken episode about how loose he plays as Saleng. His body language is loose. The way that he speaks is loosened. It's such a different version of him that comes up as Nick in Only Friends. You can feel some of the anxiety that comes off of Nick. You can feel his vulnerability. Compare that to Tiwson in My School President, who is nothing if not confident. Ultimately, utterly confident. Every single role that he plays is just different. Physically, he acts differently. He sounds different. The way that he interacts with the other characters becomes different. He is building these characters right in front of our eyes, almost in a weird way, in real time. And then when you see him off the clock—well, not off the clock—but when you see him behind the scenes and you see him just sort of being Mark, that's a completely different person, too. 

I am not the lore person, Ben is the lore person. But I did happen to see within the last couple of days a conversation on some one of these variety shows between Mark and Namtan. And Namtan is talking about being on the Last Twilight set and working with Film on the upcoming GL Pluto. And the way that Mark interacts with Namtan, and the way that they discuss acting, and the way that he supports her in those moments in the variety show. Like, he's kind of interviewing her but also praising her. I just think about what it's like to have somebody like Mark in your corner on set. And he did this too, we saw, in some of the behind the scenes on Only Friends. There's a particular one that I'm thinking of where Force played a fairly difficult emotional scene. And after the scene was over, Mark was there to say, “Yeah, guy, that was really good.” And to discuss in detail and specificity what about the way the that Force acted in that take really worked. 

Ben 

He was gassing Force up, and Force was eating it up. He was a little shy about it, but Mark came in and was yelling at this man. He's like, “You did amazing! You fucking crushed that, dude!” 

NiNi 

Mark is what I like to call an actor's actor. I don't know what else to say about this dude. He's only 25. There is so much ahead of him. 

Ben 

He's playing a very serious character on Last Twilight right now, and I remember seeing in one of the early behind the scenes things Aof was talking about Mark and he's like, “We weren't sure what was going on. Like, Mark was playing the scene and we were like, wait, what's going on? Mark Pakin’s on screen but we're not laughing or smiling.” And they asked Mark about it and he's like, “Well, I'm not playing a comedic character. Like, this is pretty—it's a pretty sad character, guys.”

NiNi 

One of the stories of this year, I think that we're going to get into a little bit in the year in review, is people finally putting some goddamn respect on some comedic actors' names. Because, guys comedy is hard. It is so hard. It is harder in certain ways than playing drama. And so when you get a really good, really good comedic actor, you should know off the bat that they're gonna be good at drama, because it's just easier. Mark Pakin is a really fucking good comedic actor. I don't know where this kid came from. 

Ben 

Nadao Bangkok. 

NiNi 

Well, yes, there was that. [both laugh] He's only 25. He's got so much ahead of him. But in terms of what's already behind him, gotta give him props for that. And that is why he is both the inaugural Sixth Man award awardee and is going to be the person after whom this award is named going forward. So congratulations to Mark Pakin Kuna-anuvit. 

Ben 

We're big fans of yours, Mark, if you ever hear this. Please keep working. We love everything you're doing, and I'm really glad you committed to acting. 

NiNi 

I genuinely cannot wait to see what this kid does next. 

31:33 Standout Queer Narrative: Moonlight Chicken

NiNi

We are now in the Standout Queer Narratives category of our Special Class awards. These three shows are chosen because while they might be in genre, they're not really of genre.

Ben

So, BL is a romance genre. The thrust of BL is about the romantic relationship at its core, and seeing it to completion. You go to a BL and you expect the very pretty boys in the intro to flirt with each other a bunch and eventually sort out their dramas and pair up by the end. Sometimes we're dramatic and they don't pair up, but we come to the genre because we want to see the cute boys get together. There's a big difference between a queer drama and a queer romance. And BL is romance. And so if you're wondering where Moonlight Chicken was  [fanfare sound] [laughs] for the last week with us, it's why it's here. We talked about this in our episode, which you can go listen to. We praised it for, like, an hour and a half. 

Moonlight Chicken is a family drama. The only ‘I love you’ said in the whole show is between Jim and Li Ming. The relationship between Wen and Jim is important, but it's primarily about how Jim's queer experience has further weakened the version of his life he thought he was building, and how Wen is an opportunity for him to not perpetually punish himself for the way certain things went wrong. It is important to the story but their romance is part of the drama around the diner, and the people who are connected to Jim. Like, Saleng and Praew are not a side couple, and I wouldn't even classify Heart and Li Ming as a side couple in this. They are just one of the dynamics that's being explored in this show, and it has resonance with Jim because Li MIng is Jim’s son in all but name. And so that's the crux of the whole story here. 

Moonlight Chicken is truly fantastic, and I don't know that if we put Moonlight Chicken under the traditional scope we were doing in the award show that it would have won in every category it was in, but it would have probably superseded a lot of these just because of the scope of the project. That is not fair to the other shows, because the other shows are operating under the presumptions of romance as a genre. 

It may feel like we're splitting hairs to some of you, and I'm sorry I can't make it more clear or explain this better. But we don't like to put bad bitches up against each other [NiNi laughs] on this podcast.

NiNi

Not even in our awards shows.

Ben

Like our award shows are really about, like, these are the top two projects that we really like the most. We give them awards because it's more dramatic for us to fight over who's better than the other one. But it isn't good to put a project like Moonlight Chicken up against the other shows that we talked about earlier this week with you all. 

NiNi, any other things you want to add for Moonlight Chicken, since we've already gushed over the show once this year.

NiNi

I mean, we spent—unedited—close to three hours talking about Moonlight Chicken. I don't know what I can say that I haven't already said about this show. It is not primarily a romance. There are some parts of the audience that kind of bounced off of it or bounced off parts of it. And that's because it's not a romance. And that's okay if you come to this genre expecting romance, and you see Moonlight Chicken and you're just kind of like, “Oh, I don't know.” I'm going to judge you a little bit, but ultimately, yeah, you're right. It's not a romance. What it is is a haunting, absolutely haunting examination of love and loss and family and intergenerational trauma. It's about community. It's about coming to terms with yourself at literally every stage of being. Coming to terms with yourself in your youth, coming to terms with yourself as you start to become a real adult, coming to terms with yourself in your middle age. I have no more words, so I'm not going to try.

Ben

It has Mark Pakin in it!

NiNi

[laughs] If you haven't watched this and you like things like Parenthood or Friday Night Lights.

Ben

Aging ourselves immediately.

NiNi

Go watch it.

Ben

It is our Standout Queer Narrative as the family drama of the year that we were most enamored by.

NiNi

Moonlight Chicken produced and aired by GMMTV, starring Earth Pirapat Watthanasetsiri and Mix Sahaphap Wongratch among others, including the Sixth Man Mark Pakin, and directed by Aof Noppharnach Chaiyahwimhon.

38:02 Standout Queer Narrative: The Warp Effect

Ben

Our next show that we wanted to talk about was The Warp Effect [fanfare sound] as our after-school special [laughs] show of the year. It also has Mark Pakin in it!

NiNi

[laughs] This is not a coincidence. I think Ben is right. I think that putting Mark Pakin in your show automatically raises the level.

Ben

So, despite our [laughs] mixed bag of Jojo shows this year, he and NiNew did a really good job on The Warp Effect, exploring the social politics of sex, and how they impact people even 10 years later for the things you do in high school. I think they did a good job with the sex ed 101 component of it. You could see some of Jojo's Gay OK, Bangkok roots coming back there. And it was a lot of fun seeing Jojo work with a large cast of men and women talking about the way sex worked for them, how it didn't necessarily always work for some of them. And it was so legible! Like, it was amazing to me from week-to-week how much recall I had of that show from week-to-week, ‘cause that show was packed. It had like three to five threads it was juggling in every single episode, and yet I was still able to hold them from week to week—and as you all know, I watch too much. So, the likelihood that I forget stuff is high. 

It was so much fun to watch this for the 12 weeks it was on.

NiNi

One of the things that I think it did really well is balance its themes with its narrative. I think that a lot of shows this year sort of failed at that balance. I think The Warp Effect was probably the strongest at doing that all year. It doesn't fall into the BL categories because it's not a BL.

Ben

The main character is literally straight.

NiNi

But we wanted to acknowledge all the things that it did really well, and also acknowledge that it was a very queer narrative, because the main character, yes, is straight and he has straight problems. But within the show we have a gay couple, a lesbian couple, Mark Pakin in a relationship with a trans woman.

Ben

Who Mark made blush all the time. [both laugh]

NiNi

Again, that behind the scenes stuff he's so good at. We had couples involved in kink, which kink is not technically queer, but they're definitely in the vicinity.

Ben

They're getting their asses beat with us on the streets. They count.

NiNi

We've got an aromantic character. We've got bisexuals, we've got everybody in this show. It is super queer in only the way a Jojo show can really be. And it was just fun to watch. It is an after school special that did not feel preachy. It was lighthearted where it needed to be. It was serious where it needed to be. It's a great show and definitely one of the standout great narratives of the year. 

The Warp Effect produced and aired by GMMTV. Starring everybody you can think of [laughs], directed by Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong.

41:30 Standout Queer Narrative: What Did You Eat Yesterday? 2

NiNi

Our final Standout Queer Narrative award, and our final Special Class award goes to the granddaddy of this podcast. It’s What Did You Eat Yesterday? Season 2, guys. [fanfare sound] Do we even need to explain this?

Ben

The only thing that could have possibly made What Did You Eat Yesterday? 2 better was if Mark Pakin was somehow involved with it.

[both laugh]

NiNi

I can’t stand you. So What Did You Eat Yesterday? falls into the slice-of-life genre. We would have talked about What Did You Eat Yesterday? ad nauseam in our Om Nom Nom episode, which you would have heard if the editing is right… last week… sometime?

Ben

Oh my God.

NiNi

[laughs] Don't quote me on that. Listen guys, the editing is…it's gonna be what it is. So we would have waxed poetic about this show for, at the very least, an hour.

Ben

And you've already heard Ginny’s supercut of me mentioning the show unprompted all year long.

NiNi

You would have definitely heard Ben, bringing up What Did You Eat Yesterday? every chance he gets in our holiday clip show. 

This show is amazing. Nishijima and Uchino are amazing. I did not expect to get more What Did You Eat Yesterday? this year. The fact that we got it is a gift.

Ben

This season 2 picks up a little bit after the movie. Shiro and Kenji been together for about eight years now, and we continue with more stories about their lives. The big theme for this season: they are dealing with the fact that they are in their 50s now. They're getting older and they're going through physical and emotional changes, and there are changes going on in their personal, professional, and family lives that they also have to manage as well. 

This show remains kind of unique. BL is romance. It’s focused on people getting together. What What Did You Eat Yesterday? is focused on as a slice-of-life food drama, is about a couple staying together and dealing with the things that come up in their lives. Less than a handful of shows allow us to return to characters and see how they're doing and if they're going to make it and stick together. And What Did You Eat Yesterday? is so important in that regard, not just because it's about a long-term relationship. It's also about older gay men. And it's super important that we conceive of the idea that there are older gay couples. We do get to grow old with each other. That's also–and marriage equality is important. You want your boys to grow old together? There are gays who are old right now. You deserve to see gays getting older together and doing their best for each other. 

What a lovely season we had because everybody got to grow this season. We got to see Shiro take on more professional responsibility than he was maybe willing to. Kenji got to grow professionally as well. Wataru was still a bitch the whole time, but he feels like a friend now?

[both laugh]

NiNi

I'm still creasin’ over the 50 balloon. [laughs] Oh God, that was such bitchy energy. I love it.

Ben

I just love how at this point, Kohinata and Wataru feel like their friends. And that was so important for me that we got to see them having a relationship with another gay couple. Kenji finally got to meet Kayoko this season. What a delight that was.

NiNi

And Kayoko treating him like a celebrity when she runs into him in the grocery store. So fun. Great, phenomenal, fantastic show anchored by some of the best performances by two of the greats.

Ben

Man, that's another thing we should talk about. The-the other reason why we need older gay characters: we deserve to see more veteran actors in the genre. This is not a knock on the young and up-and-coming talent or the OGs who are still doin’ the work. We deserve to see veteran actors bringing veteran-level talent to this genre more often than we do.

NiNi

What Did You Eat Yesterday? produced and aired by TV Tokyo, starring Nishijima Hidetoshi and Uchino Seiyou. You have won the coveted standout Queer Narrative Special Class award from The Conversation.

46:54 Outro

That is going to wrap us up on the 2023 Very Important Internet BL Awards, the VIIB Awards. It's kind of sad to see this go, but we will be back with the VIIB Awards next year when we get to discuss a whole new bunch of stuff. 

Looking forward to it. With that, we out. 

Say “bye” to the people, Ben.

Ben

Peace!

#podcast #lgbtq #thai bl #bl series #filipino bl #taiwanese bl #japanese bl #on art #season 5 #winter series #Spotify

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 16)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 9,337

Summary: In the aftermath of chapter 15, Javier returns to Laredo, reuniting with Horacio once and for all. Whilst they make up for lost time, questions about their future arise now they're at a crossroads, and after the phone call they had been waiting years for. Meanwhile, Chucho once again has some words of wisdom for his son.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort (with the emphasis very much on the comfort), romantic sex, religious themes and symbolism (including in a sexual context), PTSD symptoms including dreams/nightmares and insomnia, discussions of grief and parental loss, smoking, swearing, drinking.

Notes: Well, I did it, guys...Operation Happy Ending is officially happening after all this time and I am emotional 😭😩 Chapter 17 is going to be in a similar vein to this chapter, as 16/17 were originally supposed to be one chapter. But, you know me, I can't shut up about these two 😂 Chapter 17 is largely done, it just needs some more tweaking/editing but should hopefully be posted soon!

Thank you as always to those still reading/commenting/making moodboards/tagging me in inspo posts or just sending me lovely messages. It genuinely warms my heart ❤️

Oh and I’ve added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 16: Like a Prayer

The taxi pulled up in front of the closed steel gates, its engine left running whilst Javier retrieved his bag from the trunk and paid the driver. Once the car was out of sight, the tranquillity of the Laredo countryside re-emerged, a stark contrast to the chaos he had left behind.

Following a brief phone call, he was expected but had insisted on making his own way back. He wasn’t ready just yet for the small talk that a long drive would no doubt have prompted, more from his Pops than Horacio. Horacio posed an entirely different problem if they had reunited in public.

There was no greeting from the dogs this time, but as soon as he opened the door to the farmhouse, Javier was hit by the distinctive aroma of epazote.

Chucho was standing over the stove stirring a bubbling clay pot, but abandoned his station to greet his son.

“Pops.” Javier dropped his bag by the door and went in for a hug.

“Javi.” Chucho patted him on the back a couple of times, pleasantly surprised at Javier’s reluctance to let go straight away as was the usual custom. “Welcome home, Mijo.”

When Javier eventually pulled away, he inhaled with concentration etched into his brow. “Frijoles de la Olla?”

“Of course. I’m making enchiladas later to go with it, but yesterday’s leftovers are in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, I’m good for now.”

“Flights go okay?”

“Yeah. Although, I wouldn’t recommend the chairs in Houston for getting any shut-eye.”

“And how about you?”

Of course, Chucho was going to ask. Javier had been expecting it, even though he had no answer prepared. “I’m fine.” He could see from the look in his dad’s eye he hadn’t hit a convincing tone. “Well, er, y’know. Better than I was.” Now that was closer to the truth.

Chucho merely nodded in response before returning to the stove, not wanting to push it further. Between everything he had seen in the press, his conversations with Horacio, and filling in the blanks, he knew enough without needing to hear the specifics.

“You can say I told you so if you want.” Javier wasn’t sure where that came from. There was nothing in Chucho’s demeanour to warrant being defensive. He hadn’t pried or pushed or passed judgement. He hadn’t even asked what happened or why. And yet part of Javier would have preferred if his Pops had given him both barrels.

“I could, but what good would that do, hmm? I’m guessing you’re already punishing yourself enough as it is. I’m just relieved you’re home and safe. And I know I’m not the only one.”

“Where—”

“He’s been spending a lot of time in the fallow field; by the windmill. He’s up there now with Luna. Sol and Leo are with the ranch hands, but they should be finishing up for the day soon.”

“Right, thanks. I’ll take one of the trucks. See you for dinner?”

“I’ll leave some for you both to warm up.” There was a glint in Chucho’s eye as he tried to stifle what looked suspiciously like the beginnings of a smirk.

Chucho’s shrewdness never faltered, no matter how much time passed. A fact that Javier, now rather warm-faced, concluded was both a blessing and a curse. He grabbed a couple of items from the farmhouse and climbed into the faded blue truck parked up in the nearest garage, butterflies taking flight as it hit him. He really was going home now.

------------------------------------------------------

Horacio was hammering the last post on the lower perimeter fence when he heard an engine in the distance. He had needed to keep busy since Javier’s phone call, a nervous energy buzzing through him as he waited. Waiting was all he’d done lately, yet the last few hours were somehow the worst.

The bluebonnets from the spring were gone, but the weather was mild and more comfortable for physical labour than in the height of summer. Still, Horacio had become accustomed to wearing his Stetson when working outdoors, especially as he left his sunglasses somewhere back at Carlos Holguín and had never gotten around to replacing them.

Give or take a few days, it was a year since they had arrived here, and the months before Javier left for Colombia felt like a distant dream. As the beaten-up blue truck came into view on the crest of the hill, Horacio would have been forgiven for thinking he was about to wake up at any second.

Luna, who had been dozing a few minutes ago, was now barking at the incoming vehicle. Although the noise switched from a warning to a greeting once Javier killed the engine and got out.

Horacio waited patiently for Luna to receive her obligatory head pats and ear rubs, using the extra time to take in Javier’s appearance. The hair at the nape of his neck had grown to the perfect rugged length for Horacio to run fingers through, and untidy yet inviting stubble dusted his chin. His eyes were covered by aviators, but Horacio could see the exhaustion in the rest of his face and posture. However, the smile he gave Luna as he greeted her was different, looser, and more relaxed. Usually, the tension in his jaw was visible, like a vice clamping his mouth in place. But that was no more.

Once Luna was satisfied, Javier stopped and looked up at Horacio, neither moving nor speaking.

Javier took his aviators off and put them in the pocket of his pink shirt, which sat beneath a brown corduroy jacket. He needed to see Horacio unfiltered, and fuck, was that the right decision. His eyes roamed up and down, admiring the fact Horacio was dressed much like he had been that night in the guesthouse kitchen. Only with a few additions Javier certainly wasn’t complaining about.

“Hey,” Javier offered, his throat still husky from travelling.

“Hey yourself.”

They held each other’s gaze again, eyes swimming with a myriad of emotions that probably wouldn’t be unpacked for days, weeks, or months. But none of that mattered for now. Because this was it. They may have taken the long route and been thrown off course multiple times, but they had finally made it here.

It was a thought that seemed to occur to them simultaneously as they rushed forwards, closing the gap within several feet. Arms circled each other in a tight embrace, and lips fused together until they were forced to pull apart to catch their breaths.

“Nice hat, cowboy,” Javier teased, the brim of it jutting against him as he peppered kisses across Horacio’s nose and cheeks.

“You can borrow it if you want. What’s mine is yours, remember.” Horacio made to take it off, but Javier batted his hand away.

“Uh-uh, keep it on. It suits you.”

Their lips met again, reacquainting themselves with each other’s taste and scent as they clung together like they were one another’s life raft. And in so many ways, they were.

They soon moved to the back of the truck, which Javier had parked closer to the row of trees skirting the ranch boundary with the river bank beyond. They weren’t expecting anyone to come by this way, but it gave them extra privacy, just in case.

Not that they had got any further than wrapping themselves around each other, fully clothed, whilst resuming the kisses from earlier. There was a luxury in taking their time, savouring the rush each swipe of a tongue or gentle nip gave them after so long with no physical contact.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Javier murmured against Horacio’s mouth once they had simmered down.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Javier pressed his forehead to Horacio’s and let himself breathe, slow and steady. “I should never have fucking left.”

Horacio hushed him, fingers stroking through his hair. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Javier leaned into Horacio’s touch with a contented purr, the breeze a mere whisp in their hair every now and then and the trees above providing just enough shade. Neither spoke much, the silence comfortable and almost meditative. The perfect sleeping conditions, Javier thought as his muscles relaxed one by one. It was only now he noticed just how tight and sore they were. No wonder he had fallen victim to so many tension headaches.

The adrenaline that was vital to his survival back in Colombia had gradually drained away from his body, leaving behind a weary, aching shell. He curled closer against Horacio’s chest, arms encasing him and a soothing rhythm he never took for granted pulsing in his ear. Steady, grounding, home.

------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere between Javier's dozing and waking, the light had faded, and the temperature had dropped, leaving behind a clear sky and a sea of stars. He hadn't meant to fall asleep for so long, but it was the first time in months he felt safe enough to let his guard down. And Horacio made the perfect pillow, apparently.

Horacio, meanwhile, had stayed awake, cradling Javier’s head against him, his fingers caressing unruly strands of hair. Perhaps it was Luna’s influence, but he saw it as his duty to keep watch over Javier, to reassure him the danger was over. To let his body and mind rest. Horacio might not have been able to protect Javier from whatever nightmare had unfolded in his absence, but he was here now.

It probably wasn’t as late as it seemed. But light pollution away from civilisation was scarce, giving the illusion it could be the dead of night any time after sunset. It was enough to lull Luna asleep across the front seats after Javier fed her the leftovers he had pilfered from the farmhouse fridge.

Whilst Horacio checked on her, he noticed a familiar item on the passenger seat next to Javier’s travel bag. “Handy this just happened to be in here.” He held up the offending item, knowing full well it was the same blanket Chucho had draped over him in the farmhouse.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

“Well, driving out here with the means to keep warm suggests premeditation.” Horacio dusted off his most convincing authoritative tone but still had to fight the curl of his lips when he caught Javier’s eye.

“I can think of better ways to keep warm, to be honest.” Javier nuzzled himself against Horacio’s neck as they lay back down, now nestled beneath the blanket.

Horacio chased the scrape of Javier’s moustache, shuddering at the contact despite the extra layer of warmth they shared. “Shouldn’t we be heading back for dinner soon?”

“I don’t think Pops was expecting to see us for a while. He was gonna leave us some enchiladas to reheat.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” Horacio shifted to face Javier, their lips and limbs drawn together like magnets. Not urgent, yet fervid and thorough, like they were making up for lost time. So much time wasted when they should have been doing this.

Zips and buckles clinked under the blanket whilst shirts were shed above it, their breaths fogging fleetingly in the space between them now that the air was brisk.

As Javier rolled onto his back, Horacio followed, landing on top of him. However, the burst of movement made Javier wince before he scrabbled beneath him to locate the source of discomfort.

His hand re-emerged, holding his police badge like a loaded grenade. “I signed my gun back in on my last day, but I was supposed to give this to Messina. Never got the chance with everything else going on.” He ran his thumb over the blue and gold lettering, stifling a cynical laugh at how the word justice had lost all meaning. “I’ll post it back to DC tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I did it?”

“Did what?”

There was no holding a scoff back this time. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Horacio hadn’t expected this conversation to come so soon, assuming Javier wouldn’t want to talk about it. And Horacio wasn’t going to ask. But he slid off Javier, retrieving his jeans from the side of the truck where they had landed by chance. He didn’t put them back on but searched through the pockets until he found what he was looking for.

He wasn’t such a heavy smoker these days, but when it was just the two of them like this, it wasn’t a habit to be broken but an intimate ritual to uphold.

They slotted back under the blanket now that they were undressed and exposed to the elements. Javier accepted both the cigarette and the light Horacio held out for him. He took a much-needed drag and closed his eyes as he exhaled, his last smoke at the airport whilst waiting for a taxi a distant memory now.

They passed the cigarette back and forth several times until Horacio broke the silence. “If I had a good reason or something to lose, it’s what I would have done too. But…Javier, you really don’t have to do this now.”

“I know, but I want to. I think I need to.”

Horacio caught the pleading look in Javier’s eye, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else there, something he had seen flashes of before. The last time was here the previous Christmas, in the hay barn and by the fireplace. The first time, or at least the first time he noticed, was in Javier’s apartment the night Horacio returned from Madrid.

Horacio raised himself on his left elbow whilst his right hand stroked along Javier’s chilled skin.

“Did you ever meet Bill Stechner?”

Horacio expelled a sharp sneer, sending a trail of vapour up into the sky. “Unfortunately. Back in my SOA days in Panama and Fort Benning. When he was known as Mr Green. He was mostly an instructor for the Nicaraguan students. But he never missed a chance to lecture everyone on his favourite subject.”

He rolled his eyes at the memories of being stuck in a stuffy box of a room listening to Stechner drone on about the Cuban revolution. And that it was a civic duty to weed out communists at every turn.

“I bet that was…enlightening.”

This wasn’t the first time they had discussed their parallel histories involving the School of the Americas. In fact, it was one of their earliest icebreakers when Javier arrived in Colombia. Horacio attended multiple training courses courtesy of the SOA, at home and overseas. However, his path never crossed with Javier, who was required to complete the counternarcotics courses when he took the DEA transfer several years later.

During one of their first shared stakeouts, they talked of how they were looked down upon by the all-American soldiers for being police rather than military, and for being bilingual. They talked about how many of the classes were little more than propaganda and an excuse to further imperialism. A view that Horacio hadn’t expected from the latest gringo recruit to be thrown his way.

But then Javier always was an anomaly. Never in a million years did Horacio expect a DEA agent to become the most trustworthy person in his life. Let alone that it would be a longstanding friend and colleague who would be the one to betray him instead.

“Oh, it was.” The sarcasm dripped thickly off Horacio’s words, as he realised that the only real upside to the experience was the connections it gave him to senior members of the Colombian military. A relationship that would later come in handy both professionally and personally. “Why do you ask, anyway?”

Javier worked his jaw back and forth, gearing up for what was about to come. He took one last drag on their cigarette and explained everything. Even when his instincts told him to leave details out, he ignored his mind’s protest and continued anyway. Whilst Tolú was akin to a confession being extracted from him under duress, this was unprompted, freeing, purging.

Horacio said very little as he listened, the tension mounting in his jaw and the tightness gripping his chest more ferociously with each detail Javier revealed. Despite their surroundings, heat rose from his cheeks to his forehead and behind his pupils. A dense pressure hammered into his skull, threatening to overwhelm him if he gave it the release it was looking for. “I should have been there. I should have stopped those fuckers.” He closed his eyes to quell the sting, his voice shaking even as he attempted to tether it.

“Hey, come on.” Javier took hold of Horacio’s hand and gently squeezed. “There’s nothing you could’ve done that wouldn’t have got you killed. Or court-martialled.”

Not strictly true, Horacio thought. If he had been there and just happened to end up alone with Stechner, they could have gone for one of those helicopter rides Stechner was overly keen to promote. The ones used to intimidate captives that were usually one-way trips, unlike Gato, who had finally broken the pattern. But Horacio was confident he could make an exception for Stechner in the circumstances, so maybe it was for the best he wasn’t there after all. Although he made a mental note to buy Steve a drink – or several – the next time he saw him.

“I know,” Horacio conceded in the end. “I just hate to think of you dealing with it alone.”

“No chance with Steve and Trujillo around. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Someone needs to take care of you.” Easy banter was intended, but the rawness of Horacio’s voice and the delicate way he kissed Javier’s hand as though it was made of glass told another story.

Javier instinctively brushed his thumb over Horacio’s lips, allowing Horacio to capture it. “I know I should’ve told you everything. I’m sorry I shut you out whenever I called. I’m so sorry for all of this.”

Horacio hushed against Javier’s thumb. “Stop, it’s okay.” Another kiss, another brush of Javier’s thumb catching on Horacio’s bottom lip, followed by a more thorough kiss. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You deserved the truth then. And…you deserve it now.” Javier withdrew his thumb and moved closer until they lay face to face, nose to nose and heart to heart.

Javier wanted to do this as soon as he got here, but he couldn’t whilst he was still so clandestine. Whilst he was still carrying so much baggage. But as he had laid everything out in the open now, there was no reason to keep it in any longer.

He took a deep breath, his palm cupping Horacio’s cheek. “I love you. So fucking much, Horacio.” He moored his forehead against Horacio's, eyes closed to halt the glassy sheen misting his pupils. But it was no use. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t say it sooner.”

Horacio caught the hitch in Javier’s breath, and attempts to swallow the lump in his throat were fruitless. “Better late than never,” he managed to get out eventually with a choked-up laugh that Javier matched. “I love you too, Javier. More than anything or anyone.”

It didn’t matter that the temperature had dropped further or that their clothes were tossed in all directions. The heat between them swelled and burned fiercely in their chests, spreading like molten lava through their limbs, all the way to their fingers and toes. A heat that had endured and grown over the years, shifting and transforming in ways they could never have expected. A heat that cut straight to the core, breaking them open and laying them bare. Forcing them to surrender, to sacrifice their mission rather than their lives, to give it all up for each other.

Horacio resumed his place atop Javier, once he had retrieved the strategically placed lube from the travel bag on the front seat.

“You really did think of everything, didn’t you?” Horacio rasped, his hand wrapped around their lengths whilst Javier’s slicked fingers probed and stretched in return.

“I wasn’t waiting ‘til we got back to the guesthouse.”

“And yet we’ve been here for hours.”

Javier added an extra finger and was met with the quivering gasp he was looking for. “Just think of it as extended foreplay.”

“So, you were trying to seduce me, then?”

“Like I need to try.”

Horacio kept his fist around them, swapping steady strokes for shallow, teasing thrusts. “Tell me what you do need, Javier.”

For several glorious seconds, Javier’s only response was to arch his back and make the most of any friction he could get. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close. “I need you to fuck me ‘til I can’t think straight.”

With that, Horacio re-adjusted, sinking down inch by inch and groan by groan. There he held still, basking in being filled with a throbbing heat and feeling Javier’s shaky breaths beneath him.

Javier’s hands shot up to Horacio’s hips, but Horacio lifted them back and above Javier’s head, pinning him against the truck in one fell swoop. And still, he didn’t move up or down or from side to side; he simply anchored Javier in place.

Time slowed to an agonising pace for Javier as the release they both needed was within touching distance. So near, yet so far as he was balanced on the precipice. It was so close he could taste it on Horacio’s lips and fevered skin. He could smell it in the warm breath they shared and the lingering scent of Horacio’s aftershave mixed with fresh grass. But the longer this went on, the less patience he had. He wanted to chase it, run to it, let it consume and devour him, allow his mind to be reduced to a blank slate.

But he couldn’t. Each time he attempted to buck his hips upwards, the muscle in Horacio’s thighs responded and secured Javier down even tighter. The fingers laced between his own gripped harder, their palms fused together, one indistinguishable from the other.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just let go.”

Javier didn’t know if it was the words themselves or the man whispering them into the crook of his neck between scattered kisses. But it was the vocal permission he needed. The catalyst to still his hips and allow the fight to go out of his hands and arms.

With each passing second, Javier was rewarded with Horacio clenching and unclenching around his cock in almost imperceptible spasms. It was just enough to light the fire in Javier’s belly, the flames licking enticingly at his synapses before they were gone again.

It was the most exquisite agony Javier had ever experienced, and the urge to rebel bubbled under the surface of his skin. But he resisted. He didn’t want to disappoint Horacio. He needed Horacio to know he trusted him to the hilt. That he gave Horacio permission to take control. That he wanted him to.

No sooner had Horacio squeezed around Javier than he stopped once more, gauging when to ease off from the speed of Javier’s breathing. Or the way his bottom lip pouted as a sigh or a moan rumbled up from his throat. And sometimes, not moving was for Horacio's own benefit, the sight of Javier so pliant and at his mercy too tempting to resist.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Horacio praised as he leaned forwards. He captured Javier’s mouth, the change in angle causing sudden movement that had them swallowing each other’s whines.

Javier was torn between lapping up Horacio’s words of affirmation and needing him closer in any way possible; he didn’t care how. Before he could stop himself, he pushed upwards, breaking free of Horacio’s hold, but only to bring him into his lap. He was expecting some resistance, but Horacio went willingly, seemingly sharing the same visceral need for more skin-on-skin contact.

With cool metal pressed between their chests, they gripped at each other’s backs and shoulders for balance, Horacio’s legs wrapped around Javier and their foreheads connected.

It could have been minutes or hours they held each other, Horacio bringing them to the edge and back again and again. And Javier let him, never once bucking upwards or pleading for more. Trusting Horacio to give him what he needed, to take care of him and relieve the burden of all decisions and actions.

Javier’s hands mapped Horacio’s bare skin, noticing the extra muscle in his arms gifted to him this past year on the ranch. His fingers paused over Horacio’s right shoulder, skirting over the blemished scar and down to the centre of his chest. Javier held his palm in place until he felt a rhythmic thrum dancing in time with his own pulse.

In return, Horacio brought one hand to Javier’s chest, clutching at the chain around his neck, needing to feel the defined edges of the cross to ground himself. To remind him that this was real and not another vivid dream he would wake from to find he was alone.

“I want you to keep it,” Horacio whispered, the fragile timbre of his voice cutting through the laboured breaths he was trying to keep in check.

“What? But you said—”

“It’s yours, Javier.” I’m yours. “It was always yours.” I was always yours.

No words could form on Javier’s tongue. A small part of him still wanted to protest that he didn’t deserve it. That it had too much sentimental value to Horacio and that Horacio’s father would disapprove from beyond the grave. But those irrational doubts were overridden by the knowledge that this wasn’t just Horacio giving him a family heirloom. He was giving him his heart, a gift not easily or carelessly given where Horacio was concerned. So, Javier did the only thing he could; he accepted it.

His mouth covered any part of Horacio he could reach. It was his way of saying thank you, I accept, and I’m yours in return. A message received loud and clear by Horacio.

Their faces nudged against each other, lips, noses and chins scraping over coarse bristles, their wanton panting signifying it couldn’t last much longer.

But instead of increasing his motion, Horacio completely stilled. He kept them clasped as close together as possible, his length bobbing against Javier’s abdomen in sync with their breaths. The concept of time had no meaning; all they knew was the heat of each other, the simple logic of their bodies joining as one after too much time being forced apart.

Javier’s head lolled back, overwhelmed by the intensity and novelty of being surrounded so thoroughly by Horacio. His eyelids fluttered open as he looked to the heavens above. Maybe he was delirious, but the night sky had never looked brighter in all the years he had gazed up at it. It was as though he was seeing it for the first time again, only now with new clarity. A long overdue acceptance. A realisation that it wasn’t his to command and never had been. That his present and future weren’t written in the stars, but they were right here, in front of him. On top of him, under his skin, in his heart and soul, and on the verge of ecstasy.

With heads resting together and fingernails sunk into flesh, their intertwined form spasmed and trembled. Relentless torrents of white-hot pleasure surged through every nerve ending in their bodies until they almost blacked out. A release that wasn't just needed now, or even for the last year, but far beyond that. One they feared to even dream of in case they tempted fate or pushed their luck. But now it really was over. And they were safe, together, home.

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Sunlight was beginning to creep in through the gaps in the curtains when they stirred, slow and feline movements beneath the covers where they lay tangled.

Neither wanted to be the first to break the spell but nature called, and Javier unravelled himself from Horacio with a grumble.

Horacio watched Javier make his way to the bathroom with a hand cradling the base of his neck. His head tilted from side to side to shake out years, if not decades, of knots and tension.

Once Javier returned, he continued to stretch his arms and neck with a grimace.

“Did I injure you last night?”

“No, it’s been like this for months. Although…last night probably didn’t help.”

“Well, I’m not sorry about that.”

Javier climbed back into bed and hovered just above Horacio’s lips. “Neither am I.” The gap was closed as they shared a kiss as unhurried and lazy as their morning.

“I can help now, though.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that, then?”

“Lie on your front, and I’ll show you.”

That was a proposition Javier couldn’t refuse, so he shuffled onto his stomach, his arms wrapped around the pillow his head rested on.

Horacio took his turn in the bathroom and came back with a bottle in his hand.

Javier tried to read the label, but it was no use from this angle. The mattress dipped behind him, and he was greeted with warm thighs braced on either side of his body.

The lid from the mysterious bottle unscrewed. “This might feel a little cold at first.”

As the oil drizzled across Javier’s back, he tensed at the icy contact. “No fucking kidding.”

Horacio leaned forwards for a second and smirked against Javier’s neck. “Just lay back and relax. I’ve got you.” Much like the night before, his words glided into Javier’s ear with a smoothness that matched his ministrations.

The sweet scent of almonds drifted through the bedroom, filling Javier’s senses and encouraging him to close his eyes. “Where did you get this stuff anyway?”

“I was running some errands in town yesterday. Thought you might need this when you got back.”

“So, I guess I’m not the only one who thought of everything.”

Javier lay his head on the pillow and let Horacio work in silence, bar the odd contented hum or sigh as thumbs pressed deeper and circled over trigger points. The more Horacio worked, the looser and lighter Javier’s body became, his lips gently parting as his jaw muscles finally took a break. He tended to forget just how much tension he carried there, the ache suddenly palpable as he unclenched his teeth and relaxed his face into the pillow.

By the time Horacio was finished, Javier was boneless yet sore. But he could rotate his neck further than he had been able to in a while, and the dull throb that had become a permanent fixture at his temples was no more.

Somewhere in his blissed-out state, Javier was manoeuvred into the shower. The heat gradually eased his aches and pains as Horacio washed away the massage oil with deft, soapy hands.

Horacio's thoughts floated to the aftermath of Diana Turbay and their first weekend together after Madrid. He felt compelled to replicate the level of care Javier took of him, not to erase what had happened because what was done was done. But as an expression of gratitude for the lengths Javier was prepared to go to. To protect Horacio. To protect them. It was an acknowledgement that Javier was just as prepared to walk away from his duties as Horacio if the price was too high. If the price was each other.

Once the soap was rinsed off, Horacio’s caretaking didn’t stop there. This time, he was on his knees, with Javier’s arms braced against the cool tiles and his ass cupped in Horacio’s hands. He worshipped ravenously with his mouth, tongue, and fingers, squeezing Javier’s cheeks further apart each time Javier whimpered, squirmed, or backed up against him. He didn’t care about the deluge of water cascading down on him; the only goal Javier’s pleasure, which he chased further by turning Javier around.

Fingers pulled and gripped wet strands of hair as Horacio mouthed at the sensitive flesh of Javier's inner thighs, burying his nose in dark curls, feasting with aplomb. As though this was his real mission and what he was put on earth to do. And Javier took it all eagerly.

It was over too soon, Horacio swallowing all Javier had to give until his writhing ceased, any remnants of tension ebbing away like an outgoing tide. The warmth of the water was replaced by the warmth of shared body heat and soft towels, by breakfast in bed and the luxury of time.

When they finally emerged from the guesthouse later that morning, Javier borrowed Chucho's typewriter. He drafted and re-drafted his resignation letter several times before slotting it into a manila envelope along with his badge. He drove downtown to the nearest post office, needing it gone now his mind was made up. Now there was no going back.

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It was two days into December when the news came. Javier and Horacio were lounging on the porch swing at the back of the guesthouse when Chucho’s voice called across the courtyard. There was a phone call for them.

“Steve?”

“It’s over, Javi. He’s dead.”

Even though Javier heard and understood Steve’s words perfectly, it was as though he was processing them on a delay. He held the receiver against his forehead as he took a much-needed deep breath.

Arms slotted around him from behind, followed by a chin resting on his shoulder and warm breath skimming across his neck. The chest now pressed against him heaved a sigh of relief so hard it reverberated through Javier's body.

“Javi, can you still hear me?”

Javier’s free hand gripped Horacio’s as he brought the receiver back up to his ear. “Yeah, sorry. Loud and clear. Thanks for calling. You okay?”

“Me? Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” The exhaustion was evident in Steve’s voice, and Javier could tell he was distracted by whatever chaos was happening around him. “Shit’s just been crazy lately. I don’t know what fuckin’ day it even is, to be honest.”

“So, business as usual, then.”

“Well, what d’you expect when my partner runs off into the sunset?”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Wish you coulda been here though, Javi.”

Javier took longer than usual to swallow and had to clear his throat before he was able to respond. “I know, man. Me too.”

“Listen, I gotta head back to start packing. There’s an early flight to Miami tomorrow morning I’m hoping to make, but we’ll talk properly soon. Before I go, though…put Carrillo on a sec.”

Javier passed the phone behind him, shrugging his shoulders in response to Horacio’s quizzical look.

“Colonel?”

“Trujillo?”

“I got a shot, Colonel. And I took it.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to compose himself, his hand grasping at Javier’s even harder than it already was. “Never in doubt.” He hoped Trujillo could hear his smile down the line, even if he couldn’t see it. “You did Colombia proud, Trujillo. Never forget that.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Colonel. So, thank you. For everything.”

“And thank you for doing what the rest of us couldn’t.”

It was jarring for Horacio to be addressed by his rank again. Almost like someone calling him by the wrong name, despite the fact he’d worn that one with pride for a long time. But a title was just that; he knew it deep down, even though he would probably have to keep reminding himself for a while.

Their conversation was brief, with few words necessary and even fewer words able to convey how they felt after all these years. It was far easier to joke about the drink Horacio definitely owed Trujillo now.

Once Trujillo and Steve said their goodbyes and the phone was placed back in its cradle, they tightened their embrace but didn’t move, silently letting the news work its way through their bodies. It was as though someone had twisted a pressure valve in their heads that had been locked for years, triggering a chain reaction that left them dizzy and needing to sit down again. 

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They returned to the porch swing, Horacio reclining against Javier’s chest as they celebrated with a small glass of one of Chucho’s most expensive whiskeys. Not only was the whiskey Chucho’s suggestion, he already had measures poured for them by the time they got off the phone.

“I knew he could do it.”

“If it wasn’t gonna be you, it was gonna be Trujillo.”

“I’m glad it was him. He’s got his whole career ahead of him. He can do whatever he wants now.”

“So can we, Horacio.”

“I think it’s more a case of us knowing what we don’t want.”

Javier huffed and tilted his head. “True. But it’s a start. I know I want to sit here with you until the sun goes down. I know I want to have a nice dinner and fuck your brains out tonight.” He nibbled playfully at Horacio’s neck until Horacio leaned further back with a suggestive grunt of approval at Javier’s plans. “I know I want to spend Christmas here again.”

“And then what?”

“Haven’t thought further ahead than that, to be honest.”

“Do you want to stay here in the long term?”

“I…don’t know. Pops isn’t getting any younger. Although, don’t tell him I said that. But I don’t think he’s done with this place yet. You seem to have taken to ranch life, by the way. Better than I ever did. I think you might be Pops’ favourite now.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and scooted his foot along the floor in retaliation to Javier’s teasing, causing the swing to lightly sway. “It wasn’t so bad. It was good to keep busy and feel useful again. To have a routine. Maybe one day, if you were serious about sticking around here.”

“People would talk. About us.”

“I’ve lived here for a year, Javier. I’m sure they already talk.”

“True. Everyone knows everyone around here. It’s one of the reasons I left in the first place. I know we’ll have to face the music one day, but…not yet.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to face Colombia yet, either.”

“Won’t the CNP expect to hear from you soon?”

“Yes. Protocol dictates I’d have to attend a medical review to rule whether I’m fit to return to duty. But that won’t be necessary.”

Taking a leaf out of Javier’s book, Horacio already had his resignation letter drafted, including a request for compensation for an injury sustained in the line of duty. He had approved plenty of similar requests from his men, so he knew the drill and was confident his claim would be successful.

“What about your family back home? Won’t they want to see you?”

“Eventually. I know I can’t avoid them forever.” Or avoid telling them about Javier, more like. “I just need some time first. Even if it’s only a few months. Or a year, I don’t know. I don’t care as long as it’s just you and me. No offence to your father.”

“None taken. He gives us our space, but I know it’s not the same. I want it to just be us for a while too.” Javier tilted Horacio’s chin upwards and kissed him, slow and tender.

Horacio responded in kind, temporarily distracted from what he planned to say next. He licked his lips; to steel himself and savour the heady combination of Javier and whiskey. "When I was in Madrid, I imagined us living there one day."

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“Maybe. But only if it was something you wanted too.”

Javier looked out across the plains, vivid memories of his late-night conversation with Steve sitting on the same porch swing springing to mind.

“I was always so desperate to get out of Laredo. Thought leaving was the answer to all my problems. But running away just created new ones instead.”

“Tell me about it.”

Javier realised he’d put his foot in it too late. “Shit, sorry. And hey, come on, that was different, and you know it. No one was trying to kill me when I left here. Well, Lorraine probably wanted to for a while.”

“No, it’s fine. But although it felt like running away to me, like I was letting people down, like I was a coward…” Horacio trailed off, caught unawares by the traces of self-flagellation that remained. “I knew I had to do it. Maybe you need to do this too. Maybe it’s what we both need.”

“It wouldn’t always be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Us being like…this. We’ve only shared the guesthouse for a few weeks at a time. We didn’t live together in Colombia. It’d be a big step.”

“Yes, it would. But it wouldn’t be until next year. And Madrid wouldn’t have to be forever, either.”

“Never said it was a bad thing.” Javier’s eyes locked onto Horacio’s as palm met cheek. “I want to build a home with you, Horacio. Wherever that happens to be. My future is your future.”

Their lips met again, Horacio’s hand finding its way into Javier’s hair as they sunk into it, only pulling apart when necessary.

“Madrid it is, then?”

“Madrid it is.”

------------------------------------------------------

The days following Escobar’s death were something of a blur. If they switched the TV or radio on or picked up a newspaper, there was one story. Funnily enough, neither Javier nor Horacio required a blow-by-blow account of any of it. People Chucho hadn’t heard from in years suddenly called or conveniently stopped by the ranch. A couple of plucky journalists attempted the same tactic but got no further than the front gate.

One of the journalists had got wind of Judy Moncada’s 15 minutes of fame in the Miami Herald and wanted Javier to go on record. The article was published a few days after Javier left Colombia; however, it took longer to appear in the Laredo press. Luckily for Javier, his local ‘hero’ status meant few people bought it. Judy was nothing more than a desperate, washed-up criminal in their eyes. But there was a strange, conflicted part of Javier that would always be grateful to her despite everything.

Phone calls to Miami and Medellín revealed Steve and Trujillo had similar weeks. Not only did Steve have to answer questions about Escobar’s final moments, but he also had to defend his former partner. And fend off accusations from less respectable publications that he was in on it all too.

Meanwhile, Trujillo was Colombia’s new hero. He already had an offer of a promotion from Captain to Major bestowed upon him, which had Horacio smiling into the receiver again when he heard the news.

The only escape they had from the media circus was getting stuck into the jobs that needed doing on the ranch. Which was business as usual from Horacio’s point of view, but it was more of an adjustment for Javier.

But he figured he should at least try, which was why he found himself up to his eyes in paperwork alongside Chucho.

They sat at the kitchen table surrounded by neat piles of forms and invoices, stacks of files and bookkeeping records. To an outsider, it might have looked like disorganised chaos. But Chucho had been doing this for so long, and he knew where every scrap of paper and figure was recorded should he ever need to refer to them. The trouble was, Javier didn’t.

He had been leafing through a folder full of livestock inventories for the last 10 minutes, unable to find the previous month’s figures and rapidly losing patience. “You do know you can employ someone to do all of this for you.”

“I do. But even Miguel is allowed time off. Plus, I like to keep an eye on everything each month. It comes with the territory when you own a business. And I’d have thought you’d be used to boring paperwork by now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I am," Javier mumbled as he searched through the folder until Chucho put him out of his misery, locating the missing inventory in less than a minute.

“Let’s get you some more coffee.” Chucho got up to pour two fresh cups but kept his gaze on Javier. His son seemed to be lingering even when he wasn’t being particularly helpful and would clearly rather be doing anything other than this. Which usually meant only one thing.

"Thanks." Javier accepted his refreshed cup and took a long sip to try and stimulate his senses.

“So, Madrid.” There was no point beating around the bush any longer. And there was only so much of Javier in this mood Chucho could take.

“Erm yeah. Well, in the New Year, anyway. It’s not a permanent arrangement, but we both need a change of scenery. And Horacio liked living there, so…”

“You don’t need to ask for my permission or approval, Mijo.”

“I wasn’t.” Except that’s exactly what he was doing, and of course, his dad could see right through him. “It’s just…I, er, didn’t know if you wanted us to stick around. For the ranch, I mean.”

Just as Chucho had suspected, then. “You and Horacio will always have a home here, but I don’t expect you to stay put all your lives. You’ve closed the book on a painful chapter now that monster is dead. You need to give yourselves time to heal and open a new one together. In peace, out of the spotlight and the media’s glare. And on neutral ground. Pass me the rest of those.”

Chucho gestured casually towards the remaining files piled on the table as if he hadn’t just imparted the exact words of wisdom Javier needed to hear.

Javier transferred the files across the table, a question now burning on the tip of his tongue. One he hadn’t dared to ask until now. “So, did you see that article?”

“Yes, I saw it. Didn’t think much of it, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only you know the truth about what happened over there, but I know the truth about you, Mijo. Even when you think I don’t.”

“It wasn’t all lies, Dad. It didn’t go down like that, but…it still happened and I was involved.”

“I’m sure you were, but it wasn’t the presence of lies I was talking about. It was the absence of truth. Your truth. And when it comes to protecting the ones you love, it might not be easy or free of consequence, but it’s the simplest choice of all. And you made it.”

It was the second time in the last year that Javier’s vision had blurred whilst in this kitchen, thanks to his father, although he fought back the tears more effectively this time. Just. How his Pops always had the right words up his sleeve when Javier was so often monosyllabic, he had no clue. Maybe it was something that would come to him in old age.

“I know I’m not as young as I once was,” Chucho continued, almost like he had heard Javier’s last thought, “but I’m not done with this place just yet. And it’ll still be here waiting when that day does come. I know you’ve never taken your share, but—”

“Pops, no. I’m not taking it.”

“I’ve always set the money aside for you in case you changed your mind.” Chucho finished his sentence, ignoring Javier’s usual protest. And he wasn’t going to stop there, either. “It would give you chance to get back on your feet. Take your time to figure out what you both want. Just think about it, Javi. That’s all I ask.”

Javier had never liked taking money from his father. Not least because the medical bills had already done enough of that in his Mamá’s last few months. As soon as he received his first police paycheck, he insisted Chucho kept everything from the ranch.

But as his attention left the paperwork and fell on the view of the guesthouse through the kitchen window, even Javier had to admit it would be stupid not to re-consider.

------------------------------------------------------

In the first few weeks after Javier’s return, he and Horacio established a nocturnal routine in which they were both awake at an ungodly hour. Sometimes it was bad dreams rearing their heads again. Often, it was Javier being unable to sleep and his absence from the bed disturbing Horacio.

This time, however, it was Javier’s turn to wake alone in the darkness, blinking several times to clear the sleep from his eyes. He assumed Horacio was in the living room or kitchen. But as he adjusted to his surroundings, pale moonlight cast a silhouette at the foot of the bed.

“What’re you doing?” Javier croaked, his voice still thick with slumber. Although as he sat up, Horacio’s outline became sharper.

Horacio was kneeling on the floor, hands clasped together on the bed, and his head bowed. Until now, that was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I haven’t seen you do that in years.” There was no judgement in Javier’s tone; it was merely a statement of fact. Now that he thought about it, the last time he had witnessed Horacio praying was in Cartagena.

“I stopped for a while; I don’t know why, really.”

“What made you start again?”

Horacio expelled a light huff. “Your father, actually.”

“Pops?” Now, Javier was intrigued, and he sat up further to give Horacio his full attention.

“He showed me the box for your mother’s altar. She was beautiful.”

“She was.” A hoarse, strained sound came out of Javier’s mouth, strangely caught off guard by his own emotions even after all this time.

“We had a home altar when I was growing up, but that was for prayer and worship. It wasn’t specifically about remembering my father. Looking back, we didn’t talk about him much at all. We all grieved in secret. I used to wait until no one was around to look through photo albums. Or sneak into my parents’ room to see my Papá’s uniform. My Mamá left it hung up for about a year.”

He didn’t like to touch it too much, not wanting to dilute any traces of his father still left on the fabric. But over time, he couldn’t help but notice it smelt more like his Mamá’s perfume than anything else.

“Pops builds an ofrenda every Día de Muertos, but he used to keep it up for weeks. Just in case he’d say because she was always running late.” He snorted, thinking about how typical it was that of all the traits he could have inherited, it had to be that one. “How was he this year?”

“Quiet. He visited the cemetery but said he was getting too old for big crowds.” Although Horacio suspected it was Chucho’s kind way of allowing him to avoid being left alone on the ranch for the best part of two days and nights. Or alternatively, being eaten alive by gossip mongers without Javier there to deflect any of the attention.

Still, Horacio was lucky enough to catch glimpses of the local festivities whilst running errands on Chucho’s behalf. It was the least he could do, given his suspicions. Downtown Laredo was adorned with decorations of every colour, and Horacio had never seen it so busy. Rows of papel picado were hung across streets bustling with preparations. Food stalls stood alongside artists offering prints and calavera face painting. Florists sold marigolds with queues around the block, and bakers tempted passers-by with pan de muerto fresh from the oven. If circumstances had been different, he would have happily stuck around for the full celebrations.

“But he cooked the same amount of food as last Christmas, so that kept the ranch staff and your neighbours fed for the week.”

“Sounds about right. Did he get the buñuelos?”

“Of course.”

“They are fucking good, to be fair. I loved that diner when I was a kid. We drove passed it on the way from San Antonio when you first got here. Haven’t been for years.”

“You looked happy in the photo taken there.”

“I was. We were.”

“I saw your father praying in front of it, on the ofrenda. That night I prayed too. To be closer to Papá, I suppose, I don’t know. I’ve been dreaming about him for months, almost like the dreams were telling me to reconnect somehow.”

“Makes sense. Does it help?”

“It’s early days, but I think so. It helped when you weren’t here. When I didn’t know if you were safe or…”

“When you were in Madrid, just after the attacks on the CNP, I knelt with Trujillo and…I prayed with him. For him, for them, for your return. And when I was on my way to 9th Street, and I didn’t know if you’d – if you were –” He cut himself off to swallow down the lump resting at the base of his throat. “I hadn’t prayed since I was a kid. Too many bad memories and so much fucking shame everywhere. I was already drowning in enough of that. Didn’t need any more. But for you…it just felt…right.”

Horacio looked up at Javier, cursing the gloom of the bedroom but knowing without it, he might not have heard that confession in the first place.

It wasn’t enough, though, and he rose off his knees to climb across the bed, but Javier was already moving to the floor.

They met next to the bed, the rug cushioning their knees as Horacio cupped Javier’s face and brought their lips together.

Javier caught their palms between their chests, enveloping Horacio's fingers with his own. Their gaze landed on their linked hands and travelled upwards until chestnut met charcoal, the moonlight reflecting a new, unspoken question across their pupils.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Javier let go for a second and lifted his hands to the nape of his neck, lowering the chain he often slept in. He re-fastened the clasp before placing his hands back where they were, only this time, the silver chain and cross were secured between them.

Now they were on their knees, streaks of light illuminated their forms, and they could see each other more clearly. Their breathing was uneven, the nervous energy between them undeniable as they took another first step together.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Javier confessed in a low whisper.

“It’s okay. Try some deep breaths first.” Leading by example, Horacio drew several slow inhales and exhales, and Javier followed suit. “And try clear your mind. Let it go wherever it takes you. I’ve got you.”

Javier couldn’t pretend he was a natural. And it took a few attempts to stop his mind from wandering or feeling waves of self-consciousness lapping at his feet, but after several minutes, it was as though a fog had cleared.

With their eyes closed and heads bowed, foreheads touching, they gave themselves over to a different higher power. Taking comfort and guidance in each other, in the memories of those they had loved and lost. They reclaimed a ritual steeped in guilt, shame, and sin for too many years. A ritual that had encouraged them to beg for forgiveness where it wasn’t required. No longer seeking absolution, their union was a sacrament of its own. They each other’s church, the cross a symbol of their commitment and devotion.

Their lips met in a silent amen, their hands now free to worship bare skin with praise and reverence as though they were praying the Rosary. Javier’s mouth kissed over fading scar tissue; he the priest and Horacio the altar. Each cry of pleasure was a hymn or psalm only they knew, their bodies the bread and their blood the wine as they found sanctuary in their shared embrace. Taking communion afterwards as a nicotine flame passed between them. One sacred act followed by another until they fell asleep, still recovering and healing from all that had gone before, but more at peace than they had been in years.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[dats-hq]

Ryo- 1, 2, 7, 21,22, 

Miu and Saki- 13, 18, 26, 30

Hey did you know that if you accidentally press Ctrl-Z one single time on Tumblr desktop sometimes it will undo 90% of your post and not give you the option to Ctrl-Y? Because I didn't until now ahahhahahahahahahahaha (I am now Piedmon)

Guess I'll just rewrite the entire thing lol

Ryo

First impression? I knew he was going to be cool. That hair? That jacket? That KUNEMON? When I found out he was rude, it was all over.

When I started to truly like him? Honestly don't have a good answer for this lol. I thought he was great from Part 1. His emotional spiral was visible from orbit and I was already stressed about saving him by the time I fought the first spider Kemonogami boss.

7. A quote I remember? [in response to Takuma asking if he knew which Kunemon was real in Part 5]

"Sorta? I couldn't understand what the others were saying, just the real one, so."

I just love the image of Ryo surrounded by the sounds of kew kew and being totally lost until he hears his kew kew.

21. When was he happiest?

I think it's got to be some time when he was able to just vibe with Kunemon. Like when he's shit-talking Takuma and Kunemon is like "Kew" and Ryo is like "haha so true", or when he surprised Kunemon with a gift he made himself and it was training equipment specifically designed for Kunemon's body. [no idea how that works but I love it]

22. When was he at his lowest?

Aside from the obvious answer of Part 3, I think there's a lot to be said about how Ryo tries to drag everyone down to his level in Part 1 and 2. Like he just can't stand that the others have hope. I like imagine this betrays some deep-seated trauma with getting his hopes up about his mom because of adults sugarcoating the updates on her health too much early on. Regardless of if you like that headcanon, I still love how fucked up Ryo gets in the early chapters.

Miu

13. Favorite friendship

Honestly? Perfect tie between Syakomon and Takuma. I love how Syakomon is her only-slightly-less-unhinged collaborator and hypemon, and I love how Takuma is the only human who really consistently treats Miu like a fellow human.

18. How do I think they were as a kid?

Talked with some friends a while ago about how fucked up it is that Miu's parents believed some random stalker over their own daughter, and it makes me think she was always a "problem child". High energy, low impulse control, very little intuitive understanding of social norms.

Feel free to read that any kind of neurodivergent way you'd like.

26. When were they the most "themselves"?

No moment sticks out in my mind for this question as intensely as when Miu gave a prayer to the old school near the end of Truthful route, thanking it for keeping everyone safe and eventually convincing everyone to do the same. It was just so earnest and heartfelt and uncorrupted by any worry about how Kaito or anybody else would judge the behavior. Love that for her.

30. Funniest scene they had?

[Takuma desperately courting Miu's help to get everyone else to calm down in Chapter 6, even addressing her by her preferred royal title]

Miu: Hmm, nah, can't help. Thanks for calling me Lady Miu though >:3c

Saki

13. Favorite friendship

Well since I guess I'm just straight-up a Saoki shipper at this point, I'll say Miu. I spent a lot of time thinking about their relationship back when I wrote Not My Problem, and there's a lot of potential there that the structure of the game itself doesn't really allow to get explored. They kind of both have the same deal going on emotionally, not feeling like they have a place in their communities and lacking independence, and yet outwardly they have entirely opposite vibes (always a fun dynamic). They never really talk about their feelings with each other, so you'd think they wouldn't get along because of those opposite vibes, yet they seem to really enjoy each other's company from what little we see in the prologue and a few Free Action conversations where they both talk about how the other seems like they'd be cool to be friends with.

Every time I replay Survive, that first conversation they have about going to see the Kemonogami realm means so much to me.

18. How do I think they were as a kid?

Saki strikes me as a very quiet, antisocial kid. Like she made friends relatively easily, but never because she was the outgoing one. Obviously that's changed by the time we meet her, but Saki always feels like someone who has changed a lot even before the game begins.

26. When were they the most "themselves"?

Bro this is such a hard mode question for Saki lmao

The first answer that pops to mind is when Takuma gets back from the human world and he talks to Saki and she's super casual about telling him about her surgery and they also just tease Aoi a bit together. The usual secrecy isn't something Saki actually wants, it's something she thinks she needs.

30. Funniest scene they had?

Well, if it was just about a single line, I'd say when Minoru shows up on the bridge in Part 2 trying to act all brave and she's just like "When did you grow some balls, Minoru!?" but it's not exactly a funny scene overall so

Going to go with when you find her snacking on some nuts and then when Aoi asks about the missing nuts she's just like "woah look what I just found this exact second!" and throws them at Takuma.

#digimon survive #kimishima saki #saki kimishima #shinonome miu #miu shinonome #ryo tominaga #tominaga ryo #digimon survive spoilers

[impossibleprincess35]

[20 Question Fic Writer Tag]

Hey, I got tagged twice. Thanks @yourfavoritefridge and @miserableandmagical94! <3

How many works do you have on AO3? Only nine, ten tomorrow, but I feel like I'm a n00b as I just got back into writing fic this past spring.

What is your AO3 word count? 376,550

What fandoms do you write for? Mainly Star Wars. I'm kind of obsessed at the moment. Like, I've gone down the SW rabbit hole and I kinda love it here.

What are your top five fics by kudos? Asphodel: 168 The Echo and the Stain: 50 Peace: 42 Hard Candy: 25 La Cantina de Bloomita: 21

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I totally do. I cherish every kudos, every bookmark, every subscription, and every comment on my stories, because no one is obligated to interact at all. The fact that people take the time to do it? I want you to know I see you and I appreciate you. You could be doing a billion other things with your spare time, but you chose to read my new chapter? and then you took the time to tell me what you thought?! I adore you.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? In Vain. Obi-Wan goes to Kalevala in search of something to feel close to Satine in the wake of Order 66. I remember writing it and being like, "Well, this is fucking depressing."

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Peace. Satine gives birth to Korkie with Obi-Wan right there with her, and it's just fluff and love and newborn baby sweetness.

Do you get hate on fics? Occasionally, I get some kind of comment that implies that I have grossly misunderstood the Obi-Wan/Satine characters, and I just shrug it off. Some people don't like my version of their year on the run because they're annoying eighteen year olds, and I suppose all of us were our best selves at 18? And some of the feedback I've heard on Asphodel makes it sound like I've turned Satine into a Space Thot or something, like she's DTF with everyone in the galaxy. For the most part, though, the feedback I've gotten is amazing, so I keep doing what I'm doing.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, I dabble in the smut. In Asphodel, it's very much a romantic thing. There's occasionally a little bit of gratuitous smut, but I'd say 95% of the time, the smut scenes are pivotal to the story and give you more insight into their characters and how emotionally tied to one another they are. Maybe I could illustrate those emotional ties through dangerous experiences, but that's what I'm doing in my year on the run story, so.. romantic sex it is. ;)

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I haven't attempted this yet. I feel like my brain would explode if I tried a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? No, and I fear this ever happening. I'm mean and vindictive. My Aries moon is a bitch.

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but this would be so cool. What a huge compliment, right?

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Nope, haven't done this yet, but I'd be open to it in the future.

What's your all-time favorite ship? It's a tie between Steggy (MCU) and Obitine (SW). I'll just admit this right here and right now, at the end of Endgame, I sobbed. For two hours. TWO HOURS. My husband has video of me in the car leaving the theater and I'm crying like a crazy person because Steggy got their happy ending. I was so deep into that "doomed by the narrative" ship that I never thought it would happen, so when it did, I basically lost my mind and embarrassed myself in front of all our friends. But I own it. I will love them forever. I'm almost as crazy over Obitine.

What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will? Shhh, don't say that. I'm finishing them all.

What are your writing strengths? I'm really not sure. I mean, I like my writing. I like my stories. I write for me, so it's all good. Someone wanna tell me what my strengths are? Maybe it's the details. I think I'm detail oriented.

What are your writing weaknesses? I'm long winded. If I could cut my chapters back to 3K words a piece, I think my stories would hit a wider audience and I would probably sleep better at night, but c'est la vie.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Never say never, but it's unlikely. For me to sit and try to figure out the linguistics of Mando'a alone, look, I'm old. I got 2 kids. I'm a class mom. I have a job. I have a caffeine dependency. I have migraines. I'll leave that to the pros. I'm just over here fucking around trying to let Obi-Wan and Satine have a few orgasms and some romance before the galaxy goes to shit around them, y'know?

First fandom you wrote for? Ever?! I used to write Hanson fics when I was in middle school with an Angelcities website, and I was in a little online club called Hanson Hoes. "Do not cite the deep magic to me, witch. I was there when it was written." (Aside from that, definitely SW.)

Favorite fic you've ever written? It's gonna be Asphodel. It's my baby. I love it so much and I'm so proud of it.

Now, for who to tag.. here we go! @jelly-opal and @scottysketches! (If you've already done this, please disregard. My bad.)

#fanfic #fanfic authors