#carraville fic recs
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Carraville Rec List !
See below, self-explanatory!! I'm sure I missed some bangers, so feel free to reblog and add more, or comment. I pulled all these straight off my AO3 bookmarks list. They are ALL COMPLETE, so I didn't add any WIPSs! Please note I separated "older/classic" recs from the amazing fountain of NEW works we've been blessed with in the past 3-4 months or so. Note: IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER!
Enjoy you little dancers!!
⚽️❤️ MY CLASSIC CARRAVILLE PICKS ❤️⚽️
Lockjaw by anonymous - Workplace blowjob fic that grows into a much deeper story. Sexy-with-feels MNF era Carraville. Amazing ‘show don’t tell’ characterization, top top dialogue. Gary hiding past trauma and Jamie finding out. A crime this is anonymous, I want to read more from this author!!
the ghosts of you and me by @blindbatalex - ahhhmazingly written, MNF-era Carraville. Uses ‘snowed in’ trope to delve greater depths of a break up; old wounds, things unspoken, beautiful writing and a really pulled-back tone that aches.
the ocean and the coast by @carraville - Valencia!Gary. Jamie POV. Jamie pining. Lovely poetic style. “I have a separate plate for you.” <3 <3 <3
In Your Boots by @thesecretdetectivecollection- funny, sweet, MNF-era. SO CUTE Gary jumping to conclusions and panicking over Jamie leaving. Lots of Jamie-scenery descriptions of pretty eyes and "absurd cheekbones" and "Jamie's reliable heart" <3
keep your silver, give me that gold by @blindbatalex - MNF-era Carraville. Jamie decides to box Rio Ferdinand. Gary has SERIOUS RESERVATIONS about his beefy colleague (just colleague, no feelings, cough cough) putting himself in harms way for a stupid charity wager. Thing come to a head in a good way. Lots of verbal eye candy Carra. <3
Loss / loss / win by milleseptcent guuuuh the SCALE! The FEELS! Soulmates Carraville. Takes place from playing days to MNF-era. Gary and Carra, both without soul marks, fuck around in a casual relationship... for about twenty years. The ending is SO SWEET!
Anything That Isn’t This by @kloppend the sleeping death apocalypse fic, read if you want to ruin yourself for two or three days but ALSO the beauty of the writing is 100% worth the devastation, one of the finest written pieces in the fandom imho. HAUNTING, gorgeous, aching, amazing.
Play the Whistle by @zevons - Referee!AU Carraville!! What more do you need to know?! Gary and Jamie’s football dreams never came true, so they do the next best thing. Lovely Jamie&Stevie friendship. Enemies to lovers. So much snippy banter before they realize they are actually besties who want to smootch. FEEL GOOD but with tons of depth as well.
amunt by @carraville short, punchy, poetic = classic redandgold! Valencia!Gary, pining!Jamie. Also incredible that this was written only two weeks into Gary’s appointment, BEFORE the Barcelona loss, before things unravelled, so it’s an amazing time-capsule into the fandom in late 2015 (when they didn’t know if Gary would ever come back!)
Through fresh eyes by @aramblingjay - Jamie comes to MNF. Gary deals. Truly top-notch writing, amazing language, deft characterization. It never overindulges while remaining poignant throughout. Can be read as pre-Carraville or platonic-soulmates type friendship. It’s tagged as incomplete but it is finished. Essential reading, a classic!
Advantages of Playing Away by @zevons MNF-era testimonial blowjob in Old Trafford dressing room Carraville!! Sooo sweet, soooo hot, dialogue is sharp and funny. Just perfect <3
Remedial Exercises in Teamwork by @zevons - more saltstreets!!! HOGWARTS AU, both of them are Gryffindor beaters (so in character for them), both obsessed with quidditch. Background!gerlonso. Implied Professor Pep/Mou !!! Detention!flirting!! I mean!!! Sir Alex the owl!!! Checks all the boxes, nostalgic, sweet, enemies to boyfriends. <3
⚽️❤️RECENT AMAZING 2023/2024 CARRAVILLE WE ARE BLESSED WITH ❤️⚽️
Tasting Syrup on My Tongue by @heyyjulien - PLAYERS ERA!!! Jamie and Gary have a casual relationship that gets put to the test after Jamie’s injured in a derby game. Great banter-to-feels ratio, you will want to put Julien’s sweet Jamie in your pocket and give their Gary a big hug. Great romantic closing scene where they negotiate the implications of Jamie’s injury scare. Also SCHOLESY!! <3
It’s just not what’s done by @player1064 truly a Carraville writer that ‘burst onto the scene’ as fast and furious as Micah Richards! My fave of theirs. A truly hysterical premise on the surface that they plumb deep to turn up real emotion. I love the time-jump style. Wonderful David&Gary friendship, as well as all of the Co92 rallying around Gary. Covers all eras up until today, with a January 2024 Carraville in Courcheval scene!! <3
Package Deal (It’s Valentine’s Day, ye dimwit) by @kloppinthekop My fave of their “Holiday Husbands” series. So cute and sweet and the love scene is sooooo (SOOO) hot and poignant !! Jamie taking care of Gary in every way on Valentine’s Day. Domestic feels.
Love You More by @effervescentdragon outstanding emotional excavation, Jamie POV Carraville. Uses a slightly disorienting (in a good way) jump around style that isn’t time stamped, but if you know your Carraville, you get your footing in a sentence or two. It’s a bookended journey between ‘fuck you too’ (visceral hatred) to ‘fuck you too’ (affectionate).
Gary Neville is Still a Red, Just a Different Shade by @fanficburner - your ultimate ABO Carraville! This isn’t for the faint-of-heart, angst abounds, I would not call this a romance! But a great character piece. Gary gets unwillingly bonded with Jamie, while still in love with Beckham. The standout part of this fic is the world-building and social implications of what an ABO society might actually look like; separate Omega changing rooms, registration offices for Omega registration, the harsh realities of an owned class of people.
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read a fic that made me insane in a way i havent been insane in a long while, perfect writing perfect characterisation amazing writing style anyways [the gap between crack and thunder] is now etched into my mind i need to think about it and then reread it again just wow
edit: written by @storyshark2005 which i did not realize until i went to check my mentions OH MY GOD <333 ANYWAYS I LOVE IT
#carraville#fic rec#football rpf#i am a bit insane about this fic ngl#I WENT INSANE IN YOUR COMMENTS ALREADY BUT YEAH#I DIDNT REALIZE IMMEDIATELY BUT THE USERNAME LOOKED FAMILIAR AAAA
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Here have this carraville university au by the one and only raisin anon ♥
8 am lectures were the absolute worst in Jamie’s ever so humble opinion, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had indeed signed up for it and had little ground to complain. But it didhappen to be a somewhat interesting course, and as advanced courses usually go, the number of students was low, and the professor was roughly five million times more laid back than the freshly graduated doctorates doing the introductory courses for the freshers.
So it sort of made up for it.
And Gary was in it, of course. That most definitely made up for it. And considering how little time they had had together lately, it was a treat in itself. They didn’t actually study the same thing, as Jamie was on sports science, but after developing a somewhat interest in the business side of commercial top-flight sport, he had taken up some extra economics courses and well. Who could blame him if macroeconomics wasn’t as interesting looking at cute boys?
He didn’t particularly like the vast majority of the people there either, to be perfectly honest. Mostly it was kids from wealthy, well-to-do backgrounds, looking to take up positions in some bank or another, recommendation letters most likely written by their daddy and his associates.
But Gary wasn’t like that. He was more clever than most of them, but Jamie could never see him on a stock exchange or in a high ranking executives office. The first lecture in this new environment Jamie had looked around the small auditorium and decided on who looked the least like a rich, posh twat. Gary had fit the bill. And then he had opened his mouth and revealed not only was he from Manchester, but he was also a United fan. So twat, after all, then.
Jamie’s twat, however, it turned out.
Two months into the semester and he was slumped in an armchair in his and Stevie’s shared flat, lamenting his misery in having a crush on a Manc. What would his mother possibly say, her oldest disgracing their proud scouse roots like that? Stevie, for his part, had absolutely zero sympathy and only judgment.
Four months into the semester, he knew he needn’t have worried about his mother. She had smiled and asked if he was happy. Jamie had blushed and mumbled out an embarrassed yeah, trying to not care about his brothers snickering behind him. Gary was invited for dinner the following Sunday and had made Jamie wonder if being charmed by Mancs was perhaps something of a family trait, going by his mother’s giggling. The look she had thrown Jamie as Gary had volunteered to help clean up the dishes was as obvious as it was strict. You better bloody keep this one.
“Pay attention” an elbow hit his ribs, and Jamie snapped back to reality, to the voice of his professor droning on and on, drawing up something or the other on the blackboard, and a group of bleary-eyed students trying to seem more or less alert and interested.
“I was. And that hurt,” he hissed back at his boyfriend, rubbing absentmindedly where the elbow had hit him. It didn’t really hurt, but he had been up since six-thirty and reckoned some moaning was allowed.
“No, you weren’t. And no, it didn’t,”Gary mumbled back, not even looking at him, too busy scribbling down notes from the blackboard.
Jamie rolled his eyes at Gary’s insistent innocence but decided against bickering any further in solidarity with the girl sitting in front of them.
Instead, he moved his leg closer to Gary’s calf under the desk and indulged himself with five seconds of playing footsie, a bit for his own fun and bit to show he wasn’t really angry. Going by the tiny quirk of the corners of Gary’s lips, he didn’t particularly mind either.
“Any questions with that, boys and girls ?” the professor asked from where he had turned his back on the blackboard and looked expectedly at them.
A few hands shot up, thankfully enough that the professor wouldn’t pull his overused oh so I suppose you all are experts then joke, asking for clarification or elaboration. Personally, Jamie was very well in the realm of not even understanding what you don’t understand and simply nodded along if a question sounded particularly interesting. Gary would help him with the assignments later, he was sure.
His lack of understanding, however, didn’t stop him from stalling ever so slightly when the lecture came to its conclusion. As their schedules diverted, he wasn’t above wasting one or two minutes simply to talk with his boyfriend for a bit. Especially when he knew they didn’t have time to meet up either later in the day or any of the coming either.
“I want a proper date night this weekend, you know. Make up for all the days we’re too busy to do anything,” he said as they walked side by side out the door, throwing a ta for today at the professor still standing at the desk, discussing whatever with one of the more kiss-ass students.
“Go for a film, and I’ll let you get the sweet popcorn?” Gary suggested. He grabbed Jamie’s hand and dragged him over to the corner of the staircase where he would continue down the hall to his next lecture and Jamie would go upstairs to the library.
“You can walk me home after, holding my hand and kiss me goodnight, and I can invite you to stay over. Have a little slumber party, just you and me?”
Gary said it with such innocence, as if he wasn’t perfectly well aware of what he was insinuating and what it was doing to Jamie. He bit his lip and batted his eyelashes, the flirty smile slowly growing into a laughing grin as his poor acting skills gave away.
Jamie laughed with him.
“You know me so well, love,” he said and leaned in to peck him on the lips. It was a bit more PDA than they really tended to display, but they hadn’t seen each other all that much outside of Uni lately, and screw it, they could still be considered to be a little bit in the honeymoon phase of their relationship.
“I’ll call you later tonight, yeah?” Gary said as they pulled away.
“Yes, please. Enjoy ESG Risks and Regulations”
“I will. Enjoy the library.”
“Always.”
Jamie kissed him again, a little because he felt like it and a little because he wanted to make the random blond pretty-boy walking past just then jealous that Jamie was most definitely getting some. He didn’t restrict himself to just a light peck this time.
He smiled when he pulled back, and had they been together for longer, and the setting was more romantic, he might’ve even dropped a casual love you. As it happened, though, they weren’t there quite yet, but he was definitely starting to feel it. Give him a few more months and it would more than likely plop out sooner rather than later. Judging by the way Gary was looking back at him, he was getting there too.
He let go of his hand slowly and stepped back to let Gary walk past and down the hallway. It felt dangerously close to something straight of out a romantic period drama, if Jane Austen had been writing about two working-class boys at university who barely got any time together, restricted only to early lectures and staring longingly down hallways.
“Bye, love”
“See you”
He watched as the dark mop of hair on Gary’s head disappeared into the flock of students crowding the hall, and no matter how sappy, or clingy or desperate of him it was, he almost missed him already.
Fucking hell, he was going to make this date night the best one ever.
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An illustration for @philipp-lahm 's wonderful send me the pillow, and i'll send you mine
#carraville#fic rec#my terrible art#marine is going to block me slkjflskdfsdf#but hey! here is my first drawing with my own colour pencils LOL#but also seriously read this fic!
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Fic Rec: so what if my bones are the same as the earth by @carraville
The Drift is Silence. Silence and calm, the clear flat surface of a lake. Jamie looks over and gives him a long, slow nod. Gary can - feel it inside his brain at the same time and. It's been a while.
Link: on ao3 (locked; log in to view)
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A MASTERPOST
Every fic from 2017 that made it on my fic rec. Or, some personal favourites!
I tagged all the authors I could find on tumblr; if I missed someone, please tell me! (Inspired by @lahmly whose rec lists and fics are amazing!)
DELE ALLI/ERIC DIER
Can’t Help Falling In Love With You ~22k, Teen by @ericdier-and-chill
“Have you found out who sent you the mixtape yet?” Dele asks blinking at him with sleep in his eyes. Eric shakes his head. “I haven’t really started looking yet,” he frowns and Dele yawns. “Maybe you should.” Yeah. Maybe he should.
Floating into our Wishing Well ~29k, Not Rated by @sodetectivegalaxy
When Eric does something at the end of their Euros’ campaign, it triggers a series of changes to his and Dele’s relationship as they navigate what it takes to fall in love with a teammate in this day and age of football.
I’ll Keep My Cool but I’m Fiendin ~8900, Not Rated by @sodetectivegalaxy
From the first moment, he knew that something would be different. He expected the banter, he expected the connection, he expected the goofy smiles and he expected the affectionate cuddles. He did not expect to be falling in love quite so hard, though.
Light on the Water ~1100, Teen by @jackdaws
Everything about Dele becomes more complicated as Eric falls in love with him.
XABI ALONSO/STEVEN GERRARD
all that heaven will allow ~4200, Not Rated by @carraville
Steven asks Xabi a question.
XABI ALONSO/PHILIPP LAHM
your heart is a mineshaft ~1800, Teen by @bayernluvr69
There is some part of Xabi that has always been longing to come home, the same way there is some part of you that has always been longing to make it your own.
PIERRE-EMERICK AUBAMEYANG/MARCO REUS
everything i feel returns to you somehow ~11k, Teen by @manaholic-mongolian
Auba takes the assistant manager position for Borussia Dortmund’s youth squad without realizing his ex-husband, Marco Reus, is the manager. Or, when Dortmund calls, Auba doesn’t have to think twice.
I want you to love me ~6900, Teen, AU by @manaholic-mongolian
The one where finding your soulmate and falling in love are two different things.
MICHAEL BALLACK/PHILIPP LAHM
again, february ~6800, Teen by @lahmly
Philipp didn’t plan on almost hitting Micha with his car after seeing him for the first time in years, but he can see how maybe that’s a little hard to believe. Or: “Tell me,” Micha says without hello, “how does one get rid of you?”
JAMIE CARRAGHER/GARY NEVILLE
Oh Lord ~7800, Mature by @carraville
Five times Jamie Carragher borrowed Gary Neville’s clothes.
Play the Whistle ~13k, Mature, AU
Those who can’t do, teach. Or rather, referee. Despite not quite making it through the Liverpool academy, Jamie Carragher is at the top level of the game in his own way, which would all be well and splendid if not for a certain disagreeable colleague.
Remedial Exercises in Teamwork ~13k, Teen, AU
This was definitely not Jamie’s fault. It was just pre-determined: Carraghers and Nevilles weren’t meant to mix. Especially not when it came to Quidditch. It was just his luck that the two of them had wound up in Gryffindor, and both Beaters to boot. But that was that.
souls in narrow spaces ~2100, Teen by @neyvenger
Every ground in the league had its hauntings. It was understandable in a way. People left a piece of themselves behind anywhere where they felt strong emotions. Sometimes, after their death, that’s where they would return, clinging to a semblance of life, until the next derby, until the next title, until the next trophy. Some ghosts had been there for decades. Jamie couldn’t guess what they were waiting for.
strangeways, here we come ~14k, Teen by @carraville
Even before he can pull away, Stevie’s got the end of the tape and he’s pulling it away to reveal six miniscule words inscribed on the skin, just under the veins. Get off me, you Scouse twat. Stevie looks at him, then down again, then back up. “What the fuck?”
KEVIN GROSSKREUTZ/MANUEL NEUER
Heal My Wounds ~15k, Mature by @tyskerunge
And now the traffic announcement with an urgent message from North Rhine-Westphalia. A severe accident on B54 in Dortmund-Süd is currently blocking all northbound traffic. The emergency services are on site, reporting two cars involved, two dead, one critically and one moderately injured. The road will be closed until further notice.
leaving kingdom finding men ~7900, Teen by @lahmly
Maybe if Kevin had picked up a book or two about quantum physics in training breaks, he’d be able to explain how he managed to show up in a world where Manuel calls himself a software reviewer.
ISCO/TONI KROOS
Tuyo ~12k, Not Rated, Semi-AU
Toni doesn’t make it a habit of waking up in other people’s beds, but yet it seems to happen.
THOMAS MÜLLER/MANUEL NEUER
a pirate’s life for me ~2500, Explicit, AU by @manaholic-mongolian
One of Captain Muller's routine ventures in robbing a merchant ship, reveals an unusual but unique prize. Or, ‘Oh really?’ Thomas says, taking his shirt off and handing it to Manuel for repair, ‘your most precious belonging isn’t some locket with the picture of a lover in it?’
In The Shadows ~9500, Explicit
Manuel and Thomas have been close friends for years, but this changes after the celebration of a title win. But just when they are finally alone in Thomas’ hotel room, Manuel runs away from him without explanation. Will this incident ruin their friendhsip or will Manuel tell Thomas why he ran away before it’s too late?
Not another airport meeting ~1200, General Audiences, AU by @khalehla
Thomas + Manuel, for the tags #mild homophobia, #airports are the worst.
One Night With You ~5500, Explicit, AU
Legatus Manuellus Novus and his second-in-command Tribunus Thomas Mullericus spend one last night together before Thomas has to go on a dangerous mission.
LUKAS PODOLSKI/BASTIAN SCHWEINSTEIGER
Around the World and Back Again ~3500, Teen
Bastian’s always been overwhelmed by how generous Lukas is with him, right from when they were kids. He makes friends easily in general but Lukas had just slipped himself right under Bastian’s skin from day one and hadn’t let himself get dislodged by the intervening years.
OTHER, MULTI & GEN
reliquaries ~7200, Teen, Semi-AU by @bayernluvr69
“What did you think?” asks Iker, when he returns later that night. He is flushed and smiling and his hair is damp and a little mussed. His breath smells of something Acatchz cannot place, something sharp and just shy of overpowering. He looks something like he did that night in low orbit, when he had stood on the other side of the pitch from Acatchz. “You played well,” says Acatchz. “But I think you can do better.”
sweep me off my feet ~1100, General Audiences, AU by @bayernluvr69
The entire business started twenty-four hours before the Quidditch World Cup semifinal against England, when Thomas sat on Mats’s wand. (side Hömmels – mainly Thomats bromance)
We Fought Hard ~2100, Teen
Philipp looked around, like he was afraid he’d forgotten something. He felt utterly hopeless. That was the word. Hopeless. After staring at the empty bus for a few long seconds, he realised everything he cared about was already in the hotel, so he might as well get off.
#football rpf#fic rec#fic recs#my fic recs#i can't believe there isn't a single hömmels fic on this#okay there are some german ones but this is not that list#obviously this isn't a complete list#there are ships and teams i don't read
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Ayyyy rach could U recommend me a random carraville fic to read on this fine 3am morning
the fic i rec is GO TO BED
uhhhhh let’s pull out some old school and go back to Way Back When Valencia separation angst was still the most impt thing.. this is short and sweet and I don’t talk about it enough because the message in the mirror actually Ended Me and it’s still one of my fav carravilles of all time just because the sentiments are so perfectly carraville (bangster with a measure of hope in ur heart etc) and also i mean anything @kloppend writes is sheer perfection so yes give it a go!!
also this by @thesecretdetectivecollection is v cute cute fluff and no angst so have fun with that if thats more what ur looking for!! also bonus redders like anything with redders is bae :>
BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY GO TO SLEEP OR I WILL COME ROUND TO MUM U EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO IDEA WHO U ARE
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what are your favorite EVERRRRR football fics?
The first thing I did when I saw this in my inbox was zip over to my handy dandy excel doc of fics I like and filter for football rpf.
WOW, okay self. So I scrolled through and opened up the ones I remembered particularly adoring, trying to be selective and
…alright then.
So what you see here is a list, painstakingly teased out and compiled and highly angsted over! There are so many excellent fics out there, goddamn. These are the ones that I return to over and over, and I also tried to get a good cross-section of some of my favourite pairings, because honestly I have 43 gerlonso fics alone to choose from and wanted to get a wider selection. (Also hey, my excellent followers! Please add what fics I’ve forgotten/whack me over the head with a newspaper for leaving out your faves.)
As Far As You and Me Go - distira: Pep Guardiola/José MourinhoFULL DISCLOSURE: I AM SO WEAK FOR THIS ~NARRATIVE IT IS EMBARRASSING. It’s so trope-y it could have been scripted for television. And this is, imo, the best fic out there for them, and a brilliant read besides. Even if you’re not into the pairing I can’t recommend it enough, as by nature of the ship it’s sort of the opposite of a getting-together story. (Also Sharon refused to read it for ages and ages bc ew, Mou, but I broke her down and she agreed it was good SO THERE.) The slow collapse of their relationship, the underlying nastiness on both sides, the scheming, conniving…this is the perfect example of ‘like a trainwreck; it’s terrible but you cannot look away’. You just have to keep on reading in a sort of fascinated horror as they go about carving their way through to their various victories, and at the end it’s impossible to be sure that they’ve even lost anything of value. If someone asked me to explain José Mourinho to them, I would probably give them Jonathan Wilson’s excellent article in the actual, real life Guardian, and this fic. SERIOUS BUSINESS.
Being Young and Famous is Not a Consolation Prize - synaesthetical: Thomas MüllerA lot of these fics are Spain/England-based, but do not be fooled. On my deathbed, when my family is gathered around my withered corpse, weeping as I slowly fade from this life, one of my favoured great-grandchildren will ask, ‘Sabina, did you lead a happy life? What was your finest moment?’ And I will gaze up at the ceiling through my cataracts and say, smiling with true joy, ‘Yes, my life was fulfilled. Germany won the World Cup in 2014.’ AND THEN I WILL DIE. This particular fic is not about 2014, it is about 2010, but the point stands. If you love Germany NT, or feel, y’know, not hatred towards them, then please read it because it captures so wonderfully the tone of that tournament and that squad. Old enough to know better, but young enough to have a second chance when the time comes. This is one of those fics that I think really exemplifies not only a good story, but a good piece of football writing as well. That World Cup feeling, deliriously, dangerously happy, and at the same time how deadly serious this is. How deadly serious football is. It’s light, lovely writing, and it hits hard.
eDisharmony - ascience: Benedikt Höwedes/Mats HummelsI’m not even going to pretend like this fic doesn’t hold the massive cool award of being the fic that inspired me to get back into writing. I gotta love myself, yknow! It’d been five-ish years since I’d written any fic of substance (I think I only posted about 4,000 words in total in that time) and then wham, I read this fic, fell entirely in love, and decided to jump on the train. And just so you know I’m not entirely biased, I reread it like a week ago and yes, it’s still hilarious, 10/10 would restart my fic career again. The dialogue and the pacing bounce along so gleefully in this story, you really have to be eating popcorn while reading. There’s a wonderfully joyful irreverence and so many shenanigans. Sooo many shenanigans. The style of the humour is also just infectious. It’s fun, there’s no better way to say it. This is a fun fic. It also has the added pleasure of reminding me just why I love/hate forums. Ohhh forums. Bring back forums! I’ve lurked on ONTD-F too long to ever properly participate and r/soccer is full of manchildren.
Filling Up the Space - luxover: Xabi Alonso/Steven GerrardThis isn’t exactly what you would think of as ‘traditional’ gerlonso (and forreal, it’s such an Institution by this point that it’s practically spawned its own subgenres. That’s when you know a pairing has really made it.) and so it’s always stuck out to me. It’s mean, in a way that this pairing usually isn’t, and I find it absolutely fascinating. I also love this Steven; a bit harsher, a bit harder, a bit more destructive than usually shows up in fic. I mention it later down this list in a different rec but fic!Stevie has a tendency to become a bit soppy, and this is a man who would kill for his club, grim but determined. This is a divorce fic, more or less, and the way that it pulls all the threads apart to show why they were woven together in the first place is…I don’t want to say chilling, because that makes it sound like a horror story or something, but it definitely gives you pause. Idk, I just really appreciate it. (By the way it does have a happy ending, if a lack thereof would have turned you off. On the other hand, if you’ve been jaded to gerlonso and are just sick to the teeth of them, this might be the thing to draw you back in! Incredibly compelling read.)
Good Timing - Ferritin4: Xabi Alonso/Steven GerrardI couldn’t even tell you how many times I’ve read this fic. I love future fic, love love looove it, and this is possiblymaybedefinitely my favourite of the genre. Xabi is managing Real Madrid and Stevie is a pundit and it is glorious. Their voices are so perfectly written, it’s the kind of fic where I have to set aside twice as long to read it as I usually would, because I inevitably end up reading and rereading almost every line, just to really savour the dialogue and the pacing. And the pining! Oh, the pining. Stevie and Xabi are so perfectly characterised, and in such generous characters. That’s really the only way I can think to describe them. Generous. The fic is warm and funny, and so comfortable. You can really tell that they’ve been friends for decades, and how deeply important that friendship has been to both of them. Also did I mention the pining? Oh god, the pining. It is delicious.
look back in anger - neyvenger: Jamie Carragher/Gary NevilleIf you like rivalshipping and you haven’t read any Carraville fics, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING. I don’t care if you’re only vaguely, guiltily fond of Liverpool and still haven’t forgiven Manchester United for doing All That Winning in the most formative years of your footballing life, filling you with the kind of simmering rage that probably won’t go away until you die. (What, talking from experience? Nah m8, this is a hypothetical. Haha. Hah. sigh) I don’t care!! It’s a great pairing that managed to escape the boundaries of being a crack ship and has somehow strayed dangerously close to being the best ship in the business! And if you like Carraville and haven’t read this fic, THEN I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY TO YOU UNTIL YOU SIT YOURSELF DOWN AND READ IT. There’s time-travel! There’s enemies-to-friends-to-enemies-to-friends! Bb!Carra putting in tackles! At one point David Beckham is described as having “the air of a lazy cat”, which made my deep and enduring crush on said David Beckham cry out for mercy. THIS FIC HAS EVERYTHING.
Sandbox - scheherazade: Michael Ballack/Alexi LalasDo you like nonsense? Do you like obnoxious Americans? Do you like obnoxious Germans? How about a lot of insufferability on both sides, a whole lot of pigtail pulling, and people being Wrong in football analysis? Then this pairing is for you! Micha was my first football crush and I will forever thank whoever decided that he would make a good analysis partner for Alexi Lalas. There’s something so great about that footage from 2012, whenever Alexi says something and you can actually witness the incredulity in Michael’s face as he prepares to utterly and irrefutably shoot down whatever ridiculous statement he’s just heard. God bless! I just love these confrontational ships. They deserve a mountain of fic but with ones as good as this, I’m satisfied. They dance the line between dickiness and idiocy with such delight, you almost find yourself rooting against them because they probably don’t deserve it, even if good-hearted golden retriever Taylor Twellman is pulling for those crazy kids. This is a funny fic, and they’re such a wonderful odd couple, but if you’re like me and are consistently being emotionally tortured by the 2006 World Cup/Euro 2008/Michael Ballack’s general life and career, then you will also appreciate the underlying disappointment of a man behind a desk when he just wants to be out on the grass.
Supertyp - imkerin: Pep Guardiola/Philipp LahmLAUGHS WILDLY INTO THE VOID OHHHH MY GOD this fic exposed me for the wreck of human being that I am, because I seriously seriously did not mean to ship this beyond like, a thought experiment, and then this fic happened and I was forced to come to terms with the fact that wow, I am All About This. Pep and Philipp’s mutual appreciation society finds its beginnings, Pep is exploratory, Philipp is cautious, José Mourinho is a ruinous individual who knows just when and where to twist the knife, I am fired into the sun by the United Nations for being entirely not okay. I was vaguely keeping it together until this fic. And so naturally, I reread it like, every other week. Every word is perfectly placed and every exchange is shoot to kill. The characters in this fic don’t do anything out of the ordinary for their jobs, but you get the sense that if they were in politics or poisons they would be frightening.
they were a long hallway - madanach: Bastian Schweinsteiger/Lukas PodolskiTen years for this shit, man. Schweinski is one of those long-term, rock solid ships that you can rely on to like, have made you dinner when you get home from a twelve hour shift and pour you a fourth glass of wine without asking if you’ve maybe had too much. It’s always gonna be there, even though they’ve had their shaky moments. Despite those shaky moments and a lot of awkward growing up, it’s also a ship that can somehow seem easy. It can somehow seem like they don’t have to work for it. This fic has them work for it. There’s messiness and idiocy and some amazing fun times and some shitty low times. This fic is like the Bildungsroman for schweinski. It’s not clear-cut and it’s not straightforward: in life you get all tangled up and are sometimes tempted to just chop your way out, Gordian Knot-style, but you just can’t do that, y’know? This fic does such a good job with the tangling and the untangling, I feel like it validates a lot of the nonsense I got into in my Youth. Even though I’ll probably never win the World Cup as payoff, but still.
This Bitch of a Country - Rave: Xabi Alonso/Steven Gerrard[quiet wailing noise] nnngnggjhgn okay I said I was going to try and mix up the ships in this list but look!! look. Gerlonso is like, the ultimate holy fucking grail and there’re simply too many good fics not to throw more than one in here. Also it would be a crime not to include this one, which manages to be hilarious and heartbreaking, comforting and cruel, all at once. There’s something about mid-2000s Liverpool that will never fail to make my breath catch, this sort of tragic magnificence that achieved so goddamn much and yet…and yet. (Read this fantastic article from gone-too-soon Grantland, because this fic understands that atmosphere. Also I blame Thierry Henry entirely for validating my soft spot for this club. He set such a precedent!) There’s familiarity here, and anger, and the sort of hopeless love that makes you want to weep your goddamn eyes out. This fic manages to show the hurt on both sides without woobifying anyone out of recognition (and look…I love a good woobie as much as the next person but sometimes gerlonso gets skewed a bit too much in one direction or the other, with Stevie either being a helpless weepy ruin or Xabi being run out of everyone’s hearts on a rail, which can be great if you’re in the mood but a little bit of perspective is nice. And this fic has perspective in fucking droves.)
tripas y corazón - Hyb: Iker Casillas/Sergio RamosThis fic will have you on the fucking floor. One of the inspirations behind football fic is, of course, the personalities and the relationships: who are these people, how do they interact, what ties them together. But another aspect is of course the clubs. Some of the best football fics are the ones that can really dig into the clubs, which are really sort of nebulous entities defined mostly by the players and the supporters. This fic uses the entity of Real Madrid to devastating effect. It’s a seriker fic, but it’s also very much a fic about the love affair between Iker and Real, and how thorny and complicated such a love affair can be. (Do you ever cry your eyes out about Iker Casillas? Do you ever wish you could throw yourself into a volcano as a sacrifice to make his life easier and happier? JOIN ME TODAY!) There’s something about the prose that brings everything out into a kind of harsh definition. As you read, you think that you can see what’s happening but then it does happen, and you feel winded, somehow. Blindsided. As a bonus, there’s also a cryptic and unhelpful Xabi cameo, in utterly classic style. Read and enjoy, read and die slowly inside because your life is a mess and you never even really supported Real Madrid what has happened!!!!! here!!!!!!
und wenn ein lied - scheherazade: Philipp Lahm, Bastian Schweinsteiger, genThis is a difficult fic, okay. It’s not a nice fic, I guess, definitely not a happy fic, and it’s a tricky subject. It’s hosted on lj but if it had been written yesterday on AO3 there would be a lot of warning tags. Essentially it deals with homophobia in the sport, and whether or not players should come out or not. It’s a serious story and more than a little bit heartbreaking, but it’s a brilliant read and I can’t recommend it highly enough. Maybe I’m a little bit biased, because I love Fips and this fic can be seen as a kind of vindication for some disagreeable comments he made back in 2011 that got the fandom all a-spinning and it was generally not a great time. (On a side note, it is really interesting to read today and see just how much these politics have changed in the past- oh, fuck me, six years? Jesus I feel old) So definitely a huge YMMV warning on this one, but it remains one of my favourites. It’s beautifully written and really delves into various characters and the tightropes that they walk.
vainglory - anemoi: Raúl González/José María GutiérrezI blame two culprits for my complicated Thing with Real Madrid. The first is Iker Casillas and his unfairly beautiful face/hands, and the second is this fic. Because it’s fine to have a long-lasting crush on a player, but when you start delving into a club’s legends and becoming invested in the story lines? Then, my friend, you have a problem. There’s something gloriously sparse about the prose of this fic. It’s like a thin jacket in late fall that isn’t quite keeping you warm, so you just have to pull it tighter around yourself even though you keep shivering. There are so many descriptive passages that make you shudder: orange streetlights, oranges from a cart on the streets. There’s a sense of desperation in the bones of this fic, which is so stark against the backdrop of the club and the responsibility placed on the captain and vice-captain. Strength on the pitch contrasted with open vulnerability in quieter, more private moments. Breath-taking and just- ugh. This one really made an impact on me, and is always going to be one of my favourite Raúl/Guti stories amid a multitude of excellence.
….
good grief, I know I’ve forgotten so many (and will in all probability wake up in the middle of night tonight in abject horror because how could I have forgotten such-and-such fic! And so-and-so!) but here you go, thirteen fics that I love and adore. All of these authors, too, have incredible oeuvres that are worth checking out! I could talk forever about fic and honestly, come ramble with me because yayy literary criticism! and also crying about footballers! etc etc
If you’ve read this far, I commend you. Thanks for the opportunity to talk your ear off!
#Anonymous#replies#fic rec#of course a side-effect of this answer is i have now been exposed as having over 1000 fics bookmarked#in my defence that excel doc has been going since about 2009#and i read a lot#also sprach sabina#football
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Schedulea 3 more rec posts and trying to decide which fics to go for next
(You can expect all the Carraville fics to eventually end up on that list oops)
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Fic Rec - New Carraville!!!
absolute fucking instant classic Carraville. Amazing writing!!! Anon if you can hear this-- well done!!! I am IN LOVE WITH THIS STORY!
💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
Gary glances up at him and there’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, like Jamie’s words have some double meaning that he’s just now understanding. (They don’t). Staring back into the bottom of his glass, he says: “No. I couldn’t. I just… belong to David. Always will.”
It’s strange to hear Gary refer to him as David — Jamie thinks he’s only ever heard Victoria call him by that name, in oversaturated, sickly-sweet television interviews.
“But,” Jamie says, like he’s grasping at straws, “Even if—”
Gary cuts across him quietly. “Even if he doesn’t want me anymore.” His shrug is well-practised; it implies he’s resigned himself to this fact a long time ago. “That’s just how it is with him and me.”
The pub is still chattering all around them, an old Stone Roses song playing so loud everyone has to half-shout to be heard, and Jamie is unbearably lonely. He knows quite acutely that he’s never been in love before, not like that. He has no fucking clue what to do with that information, that he’s only ever glimpsed the real thing once, in a moldy, low-lit stairwell at twenty-one years old. He feels as though something’s passed him by, something he never knew he wanted in the first place. So far behind him it’s already out of reach.
All his life, Gary Neville has flaunted the fact that he only ever wanted one thing, that playing for United was the only dream. It was one of many things about him that rubbed Jamie the wrong way. And now, to learn he’s only ever wanted one person too… Jamie lets jealousy crash over him like a wave, even though he knows it’s misplaced. To have one dream instead of a drawerful, to be so pure and uncompromised— what must that be like?
As though he can read Jamie’s mind, Gary says: “It’s not supposed to be like this. I love him, but it’s not supposed to be like this.”
When he glances up, though, Gary’s not looking at him, and Jamie can see Gary didn’t say it for his sake.
#carraville#fic rec#“To have one dream instead of a drawerful--what must that be like?” WHAT A GORGEOUS LINE#Gary articulating Jamie's thoughts#but he's not even looking at or thinking of Jamie#what an amazing little 'show don't tell' moment to show Jamie's longing#unarticulated and unacknowledged and unrequited#absolutely magnificent#“It's not supposed to be like this”#GARY TALKING ABOUT DAVID BUT REALLY COULD BE JAMIE AND HIS UNREALISED LOVE FOR GARY#GUUUUUUHHHHHH#wonderful
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proud to present a carraville royalty au instalment by the one and only raisin anon!
When he thought about it, Jamie had never paced back and forth across a room in worry before. Not that it hadn’t been things to worry about in his life, but he tended also to be the subject of that worry. When you went to fight on the frontlines in a war, you might be worried about what you’d see out there, but there’s not much room for pacing back and forth when you’re marching inline or lying on a bedroll in the middle of nowhere. Here though, in his office, there was almost too much of it.
Gary, the advisors, his guards and the obligatory physician that had to come along for long travels was supposed to be back yesterday, and yet it was past nightfall again and exactly no signs of them anywhere. The scouting reports were due back in a few hours, which was the only sliver of hope he had at the minute, and so, concerned pacing it was.
It really shouldn’t be taking this long. There was no reason for the negotiations to overrun, and even if it did they would’ve sent someone back with news of the delay. A lord was never not accounted for, not when it could be helped. The southerners could be tricky but they weren’t evil or particularly scheming. Roman had his ways, most of them involved bribes, but very little if any, violence.
Someone knocked on the door, and without permission ripped it open with an urgency that for once did not make Jamie annoyed but rather gave hope that there had been new developments in Gary’s disappearance act.
“My lord, the courtyard! You have to come!”
Once upon a time, Jamie had been the undisputed fastest cadet at the military academy. The sprints he did down from his office in their private wing and down to the courtyard put even his best performances as a young lad to shame. He took the staircase three steps at a time, practically flew down the hallway and even had a little time left over to think they really should train their guards’ pace better if their ageing lord could outrun them. The doors from the entrance hallway to the outside was open, and he stopped just on top of the steps as if the elevation would provide some sense of overview of the situation.
The courtyard, normally quite calm at this time of night, was bustling with activity. Horses stomping in distress and frustration, guards and servants and physicians all shouting louder than the next, and in the middle of it, a two-wheeled wagon that had not travelled with them when they left for the negotiations with the southerners two weeks ago. On it, underneath a pile of blankets Jamie could spy a body, lying completely still, and going by the pale hand dangling over the edge, either dead or very close.
“No”
No. He couldn’t live through that, not again, not now, not when only in the last year the kisses and affections had become easier again when the “I love you” was so close to the tip of his tongue. Finally, the ghost of David and what Jamie had done didn’t hang over them anymore, and he had learned to open up his heart and then the gods decided to rip it all up and send him right back there, to the days of heartbreak and tears and darkness.
“No!”
His feet carried him down the steps as fast as they could and over to Connor, who was standing at the edge of the debacle looking just as lost as Jamie felt. That, however, did not stop him from grabbing his elbow and forcing the boy to look at him.
“What. Is. Happening!?”
The poor kitchen aid opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he managed to utter out a single word, his head turning back and forth between Jamie and the crowd in front of them.
“I. I don’t know. Don’t know, my lord. I was on my way back in from the cellars when I heard shouting, so I came to look and I – “ he was stammering and nervous at being caught somewhere he shouldn’t be and also had no clue. Jamie reminded himself to talk to him later and apologize for scaring him, he usually liked the young lad, but right now he was preoccupied with other matters.
He let go of Connor's elbow and made his way into the fray, to the tight circle of people surrounding the wagon. If Gary was not already dead then at least he wanted to be there, to hold his hand as he took his last breaths, send him off to the gods gently and unafraid.
“Let me through!” he pushed one person aside.
“Let me through now!” he pushed away another
“I need to see him” A third.
“My lord! What - !?”
It was difficult to be heard over all the noise but he persisted nonetheless, pushing past everyone he needed to get to Gary, so he could see his eyes, assure him he was there. Maybe he’d even manage a smile, just one last one, it’d be a shame if Gary died with a frown on his face, because despite his reputation as a bore he was quite good at making people laugh, and making Jamie laugh. Gary should die smiling.
He pushed aside one last guard that stood between him and where Gary lay and steeled himself for what he might see. An ugly scar to match his own maybe, an infected arrow wound, dead eyes staring up at nothing –
“My lord!” someone shouted, but he wasn’t listening.
“I need to see him!”
“But my lord- !”
“Jamie! Jamie! James, stop!”
He was hearing things now. He must be because that was Gary’s voice shouting at him, but Gary was lying half-dead on a horse-drawn wagon, most likely ambushed on their way home from the south, probably somewhere after the mountain pass. He’d send out search parties for the culprits tomorrow, might even join them himself. He shoved a hand off his shoulder.
“He’s my husband!” he tried to make himself heard, but the louder he spoke the more prevalent the tears in his voice became, and he wouldn’t cry. Not here. On his own in their, his now, room maybe, but not here. Not now.
“What?! I’m your husband, you buffoon!”
The same hands grabbed him by the shoulder and elbow again and he spun around to shove them off once and for all. He needed to see Gary, couldn’t they understand that - !?
In front of him, standing up on his own two feet, dark hair smeared with blood but it didn’t look like his own, a gash running down his cheek, he looked tired and worn and annoyed, but it was unmistakably:
“Gary?”
“Yes, you idiot. Your husband, Gary. Are you married to many people behind my back then ?”
“But I? But you?”
He turned his head back and forth between Gary and the body on the wagon, trying to catch up with the reality that he was seeing in front of him.
“It is one of the advisors. They’re doing all they can to save him, but we have to give them space”
Gary’s hands were placed on both his forearms and almost in a daze, Jamie let himself be steered away, back through the crowd and towards the steps leading up to the entrance doors, away from the worst of the commotion.
“But I thought ?”
“You thought it was me? Yes, I gathered. They were aiming for me to be fair, but archers today don’t know how to aim properly”
The joke at today’s youth fell flat, especially as Gary had just admitted it was indeed him they had been going for. It really was a testament, though, to how scared Jamie had been, that Gary didn’t crack any jokes about how they might care about each other after all.
Connor was still standing there overlooking the chaos, but came to stand before them when Gary waved him over.
“Tell the Captain of the Guard we’ve gone up to our wing. He can meet us in the office in an hour”
“Yes, my lord” Connor grew almost five inches at being given a job far beyond what he was normally set to do, and he sent the boy running off with a pat on his shoulder. He grabbed Jamie’s elbow again and together they made their way up the steps and back inside.
“Come now, you. You can stitch the wound for me, and I’ll tell you all about what happened”
And so that’s what they did. After washing off the worst of the grime and blood, with well-practised ease from years on a battlefield, Jamie carefully drew the fine silk thread in and out of Gary’s skin, shaking hands growing steady as reality set in, reminding him that his husband was still alive. Still alive and breathing and safe, and Jamie didn’t have to go through another mourning period.
“Ambush then?” he asked because he couldn’t wait any longer. Gary nodded.
“We had already entered woods when they attacked. We were so close to the King’s Road I’m surprised they caught us there and not further away up in the terrain”
Gary winced as Jamie tied another stitch together. The numbing solution took the edge of, but that didn’t take away from the fact that Jamie was literally weaving a needle in and out of his cheek.
“Desperate bandits?”
Gary shook his head as much as having a needle in your face could allow.
“Bandits pillage and steal, these ones were only out to kill. And they knew James, that's the thing that worries me. They knew I’d be there”
“You think someone tipped them off?”
“They had the Horned Bird on their chest, and somehow felt safe enough to do it so close to the King’ Road. The fact that I was travelling was not meant to be common knowledge either, and yet they seemed to know exactly when to be there”
Jamie pulled the needle and thread through one last time and tied it up. Gary had a fair few of these hunches every now and again, sometimes they proved true and sometimes not, but the fact that the rebel group desperate to start up the war again were the ones behind the attack was decidedly not good news. And just to think what would’ve happened had they succeeded. And they had gotten the information from inside the castle? That really limited the people they could trust going forward.
He traced over his handiwork with his thumb and leaned in to place a kiss over the stitches. This was not a headache he needed right now.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re safe”
“Hmm, you seemed quite worried there for a bit” Gary hummed and looked at Jamie as if waiting for him to elaborate as to what exactly that had been about. Jamie’s cheeks could’ve burned from embarrassment, they might’ve done a few years ago, but really, he was too relieved to pretend he didn’t care. He wrapped an arm around Gary’s waist to pull him closer and nuzzled into his side.
“Was worried, Gaz. Terrified, to be honest. I cannot lose you, Gods help me I never thought I’d say that, but I really, really can’t”
Gary heaved a sigh and leaned against him, almost, Jamie thought with a laugh, as if he was accepting yeah, okay, let’s admit to having emotions and caring about each other. He turned his head so he could place a tiny kiss on Jamie’s forehead and pulled him in tighter.
“You didn’t, James. I’m still here, yeah. I made it home”
Jamie hummed but didn’t answer. The captain of the guard would soon be ready for them in their office and he knew they had to go start what most likely would turn into a rather lengthy emergency meeting, complete with a small hoard of advisors, generals and council members. He wouldn’t be able to just hold Gary like this until at least the early morning again and at the minute that was the only thing he wanted to. Just feel his warmth and his breath and the rumble in his chest as he laughed. To remind himself that this, too, they had survived.
“Home” he echoed, and somehow it felt like an admission of sorts. The I Love You was too far away still, but Home, Home he could do. He had almost forgotten how nice it felt, to have that person, or to be that person, the one who makes the castle more than a stronghold. He hadn’t properly felt it since Stevie, but he did now, holding on to Gary had and being held back, and maybe he should’ve realized sooner, maybe he almost had, maybe that had been why admitting to killing David had been so tough, but either way he knew it now. Something inside of him felt like it settled down, finally, and he brought one hand up to cup Gary’s jaw and held it steady as he leaned in.
“I’m happy you’re home” he mumbled against Gary's lips just as they parted. He was pretty sure Gary understood deeper meaning behind it, as he felt, more than saw, his smile when they kissed again.
“Mhm, me too”
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an instalment in the carraville royalty au, courtesy of the raisin anon! (usual cws for referenced past character death and discussions of war)
Gary finds him in the garden, secluded in between rosebushes and neatly trimmed hedges, sitting on the bench dead centre in front of a fountain with two faceless soldiers as its centrepiece. The water flows from beneath their feet and continues downwards into three different levels before it ends up in a pond, where goldfish are swimming around, happily ignorant to the misery the man staring at them is feeling.
As far as hiding spots go, it’s a rather poor one, but Gary doubts Jamie sits in front of the fountain specifically commissioned to honour their dead loved ones in order to hide. More likely, Jamie knows he would be left alone.
A pang of guilt hits him for his reaction to learning the truth of David’s death if this is what it did to his husband. He needed to get out, needed to clear his head in peace, but he hadn’t been quite in his right mind when he rode out alone to the stronghold several days’ ride away to visit David’s crypt. Or when he continued on to the estuary, to the place one of the last bloody battles of the war had been fought. Where Jamie had plunged his sword through David’s middle.
He didn’t know what he hoped he would get from the excursion. Perhaps a sense of closure, perhaps he half expected David’s ghost to pop up somewhere along the way, perhaps he just had a desperate need to do something , and riding to his late husband’s place of death was the only thing he could think of. What he got instead was his heart screaming at him to go home, to see Jamie, to face this pain, like all others, head on together.
And so go home he did.
Jamie’s face looks gaunt and drawn from what he can see, his shoulders hunched and his fingers are clutching tightly at his tunic, in what Gary suspects is an attempt at stopping them from shaking. He looks, almost like he did the first few weeks after the wedding, when his guard was down and feelings raw, coming to the realization that this was to be for the rest of his life. The lost, empty look in his eyes did not suit him, and Gary despised of often it used to make an appearance. He finds himself now hating it more than ever.
The gravel crunches underneath his feet as walks towards him, and Jamie’s head shoots up to see who dares intrude on his miserable solitude, a command to leave him be ready almost even before he can register who it is.
“Hi, James,” he says, not entirely sure what to expect. A few days ago, Jamie would’ve been searching for forgiveness. What he is now Gary does not know. After disappearing for days on end without much of a word neither here nor there, he would not deem a cold shoulder entirely unfair.
“Thought you might be here”, he continues on and takes a few steps closer to the bench where Jamie’s sitting.
Jamie keeps looking at him with wide eyes, bloodshot and tired, almost like he expects Gary to be a mirage soon to disappear into thin air.
“You’re back”, he croaks out eventually, his voice hoarse from what might be days of being unused. It most likely is.
“Yeah”
Gary sits down beside him, keeping a careful distance, and stares at the two figures in the middle of the fountain. It was one of the first things they had worked together and agreed on, this little private memorial of their late husbands. It was a symbol of their old lives, their old selves, but somewhere along the way, Gary had come to appreciate it as the beginning of their lives together, and that from even the most broken and bruised beings, beautiful things could learn to grow.
“Where d’you go?” Jamie asks. Gary looks at him, but Jamie’s not meeting his eyes, rather looking at his fingertips and willing them to stop shaking. Gary reaches out without realizing it and takes Jamie’s hands between his own and keeps them still.
“To the crypt, and then to the West Bank,” he says but chooses not to elaborate. He can explain his travel route later and he doesn’t need Jamie to know how many tears he’d shed over the past few days anyway.
“James, listen. I am sorry for leaving as I did. I needed to clear my head, but I shouldn’t have left you here unknowing for such a long time. That wasn’t fair of me,” he begins. It’s easier, apologizing for leaving, rather than mentioning the very reason it. Hurts less. He's not normally one to run away from what he does not want to face, because they tend to catch up anyway. But this, this he would put in a chest and bury ten feet into the ground if he could, gone and forgotten and never to be seen again.
After the wedding, when everything seemed so bleak, unknowing and unintended they had coaxed each other out of the numbness and indifference to the evils of the world, learned to see the flowers and feel the sun again together. If wanting to suppress any knowledge of David's death and go back to that for just a moment was cowardice then a coward he would be, even if he knows it is an impossible dream.
He tries to catch Jamie’s eyes, but they keep averting his own, looking anywhere and everywhere but Gary’s face.
“S’all right, I knew you’d be back soon enough,”Jamie says.
“You did ?”
“Part of the treaty, no? Our marriage is vital for keeping the peace. Your sense of duty is too strong to leave, no matter the circumstances” He says it like it’s practised, like it’s a reasoning he’s been telling himself ever since Gary rode out, a cold truth no one could argue with.
For all the laughter, all the smiles and jokes and joy. For all the happiness they, against the odds, have shared since their wedding day, Jamie had stripped it all back, to the baseline of it all, to the one reason they are set to be companions for the rest of their lives. Commitment to a cause, not a person. Honouring a treaty, not a holy institution.
Duty, not love.
Jamie heaves a sigh and keeps going.
“I am sorry you ended up here, Gary. You could’ve been happy, hadn’t it been for me.”
Gary doesn’t know what to say. It's not the way he up and left with no word that has made Jamie miserable. Apologising for it's not what's going to make it better. He thinks about the ten obelisks out on the moor by the mountains that separate their kingdoms, the names carved into the stone in memory of the soldiers who gave their lives to the war. How many of those names are there because Gary shot an arrow through their hearts or commanded his troops to fire. How many children in the villages died of famine because the grain went to feed his men. How many had become widowers, orphans and alone because of him and his decisions.
He hadn’t been the one to deliver the killing blow to Jamie’s Stevie. But he had sent arrows through a number of throats non-the-less. Red and black-feathered, gold heads dipped in Devil’s Venom. There were those out there who mourned lives he had taken.
“I killed people in the war too,” he says, eventually.
There are other words he can say, words that could make it better, make Jamie see it’s not only about duty anymore, but he doesn’t have them. Not yet. Not for a while. They are there, somewhere inside him. Floating around in his heart and his head and his stomach and bones. But he doesn’t know how to piece them together and speak them into existence.
His grip is firm around Jamie’s hands, the only kind of comfort he can manage, and he can feel Jamie gripping tightly back. He looks at them, sees the hands that killed David, sees the hands that hold him through his nightmares. Wants to be angry at him for giving him so much pain, while he knows Jamie is the only one now who can help him chase that pain away. Wishes he could run away but knows he’d only want to return back as soon as he’s past the gates.
He tries to remember what his mother had told him when he was little and came home with scraped elbows and tears in his eyes. It will heal, my lad. Her smile was always as warm as the sun. Give it time and it will heal.
In the years since, he’d learn that it sometimes takes more than time, and sometimes that’s not enough either. But he lets his mother’s words wash over him as he did as a small lad, wills them to be true like they used to always be.
We will heal, he decides and pretends it’s that easy. He looks at Jamie, his hunched shoulders and empty eyes, knows they can fight their way through this as well.
Give us time, and we will heal.
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Proud to present a carraville ficlet by the one and only raisin anon, re that boat scene.
The centuries-old wood that somehow still held the boat together creaked as it rocked slightly up and down with the gentle waves down the river. Jamie could smell the musk and wet timber from where he was laying on his bedroll at the bow of the small barge. He wasn’t particularly good with waves or anything that made the floor underneath him move. How could he be, growing up in a landlocked kingdom with little to no access to the outside world. When this was over he’d properly appreciate solid land like he never had before.
The barge wasn’t big, but it didn’t need to be. It only needed to take them down the river and across the Red Lake, a full sun circle of travel at most, usually not even that. The skipper had been scarce on the details, only said it wouldn't be several days and that was all they needed.
A boot suddenly stopped by his head, heavy and dusty and sending a pebble flying straight into his forehead. For being someone that supposedly shepherded plenty rebels across these waters, rebels that had no more experience with the ocean than Jamie and probably were equally horrible with it, he had a horrible bedside manner for his passengers.
“Up you get, lad. You can see your future ahead of you now.” He had a heavy accent, this gruff stranger that was tasked with taking them over the lake. Jamie wondered where he was really from.
“What d’you mean future?” he groaned out, and managed to lean up on his elbows without feeling like throwing up.
“Stand up properly and you’ll see”
The boot and the man standing in them moved away again, leaving Jamie alone to curse him out in silence. He used the wooden chest behind him to stagger himself up on his feet, and finally turned to look at what laid in front of them for the first time since he laid down hours ago.
The gentle breeze that met him once he stepped a little further up on the side chased away the remaining smell of wet timber, and it felt like he could finally breathe. The river's estuary was just behind them, and in front, open water on all sides. He could just about make out the strips of land at the horizon, and between them, the strait that was the end goal of their journey. Stevie had said he’d wait for them in the harbour there.
It hit him suddenly, that they would make it. The journey across the moor and through the woods, wading through the marshes, it was all worth it. There, so close he could finally see it, was their opening to a safer world, undiscovered and new and perfect.
“James?” came Gary’s voice behind him.
He turned to look at him, as dusty and dishevelled as he guessed he was himself, fringe flopping down over his forehead, a streak of dirt across his cheek. Somehow less green with nausea than Jamie. It was the most beautiful he had ever seen him. Alive, breathing, safe, and here, here together at both the end and beginning of the world.
“We made it, Gaz,” he said, almost in disbelief, and suddenly found himself clutching at fistfuls of the back of Gary’s shirt as he hugged him to his chest.
“We made it.”
He pulled back from where he had buried his face in Gary’s neck to give him a kiss and for once didn’t care that somewhere they had an audience in the form of a gruff-looking skipper. They were more than likely not going to see him again after this journey anyway.
“Thank you,” Gary said as they pulled apart. He was about to ask whatever for, but his lover had turned to the permanently bored-looking man with the grey beard and heavy accent. He hadn’t volunteered any information about himself other than that helping people out of the country under the nose of their ruthless king was something of a routine to him. Jamie couldn’t blame him for that. The less information rebels revealed about themselves to others the better. It had taken a whole year until he had learned Gary’s real name after all.
“’S me job, lad” the skipper replied, almost unimpressed by the gratitude and continued making himself busy with the tiller.
Gary walked over to talk to him nonetheless, but Jamie didn’t particularly feel like making nice. Not now. Not when they were so close.
They had gotten too loud and too critical of the king to stay any longer. To begin with, their plan had always been to stay and work from the inside, but then they had singled Gary out as the new leader of the resistance after Becks had died and Jamie, with his need to protect what he loved, had tried to pull the attention to himself instead. The end result was that a fortnight ago Gary’s sister, with all her inside intel and informants, had thrown a satchel in his face and a blanket at Gary’s and said they needed to go into hiding that night, and be completely gone by the next full moon. They had made it with four days to spare.
Gary suddenly popped up beside him, with a smile and a gentle touch at the nape of his neck, and Jamie took a half step back and to the side so he could put his arms around him. He leaned forward a bit and pecked Gary’s cheek, the one without the streak of dirt, and hung his chin over his shoulder. Gary leaned his head against his own and together they look towards the horizon.
Out there, beyond it, laid their future. It was uncertain and scary and nothing at all something they could ever plan for. But he wasn’t afraid. How could he be, when he had the warm body of the person he trusted and loved the most in his arms and several ideas of how to take a crown of a king’s head in his mind. They’d continue their work from the outside. Stevie had contacts, their skipper had contacts, Tracy would never get caught.
“We’ll figure something out” Gary said, as if he could read his mind. Maybe he actually could at this point.
“I know. We’ll make it” he replied, and for once didn’t mean out, but back in, back home. One day.
“I love you”
Jamie smiled. It was something he knew Gary felt, although it was so rarely expressed. He squeezed himself closer to him.
“I love you too”
They stayed quiet for a bit after that, only a gull far up above them breaking the silence with its screeches. Jamie could tell Gary’s brain was working overtime thinking about something just by his breathing, and soon enough he spoke.
“James?”
“Hm?”
“D’you reckon they make good pastries wherever we end up?”
Jamie thought about the gruel they had been eating for weeks on end lately, and on Stevie that had waxed poetic about the food in a letter that had been smuggled in months ago.
“The very best, Gaz”
Pies, rolls, sugar cakes and maybe even apple sweets.
“The very best”
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behold a royalty au carraville fic, by the one and only raisin anon 🙌 [cw for referenced character death, as always]
When he had first walked into the tent and seen David’s dead body lie perfectly still, face stone cold and the warm laugh gone forever, Gary had thought the rest of his life would be spent in solitude and quiet. He’d resigned himself to dedicate all his waking hours to serve the Crown to his dying day because what else was there to do, now that the love of his life was gone.
That is the reason why his heart squeezed almost painfully, by longing, joy, love and sadness all at once, whenever he entered into his and Jamie’s private wing and heard an eight-year old’s giggles mixed with Jamie’s gentle voice, changing tones and accents to match the story he was reading to their son.
Neither of them had ever really considered it when they got married all those years ago. They dutifully and unhappily agreed to the arrangement with a desperate hope it would stop others from suffering as they had, and bringing a child into the mix would definitely mean bringing suffering onto others. But as the years went by, wounds slowly started to heal and they found themselves happy and content, always mourning their losses, but grateful all the same, for the second chance at happiness the Gods had granted them.
Maybe it’s because we did the right thing, Jamie had mused once, the first time he said he loved him.
We did our duty for the greater good, and they allowed us to be happy again.
Gary didn’t know what he believed neither here nor there, but what he did know was that at one point, the High Council had started to make poorly disguised suggestions that maybe they should consider heirs sooner rather than later, now that cold indifference had somehow turned to love.
Gary didn’t know how to explain to them that you can’t just will the Gods to send a child your way because a council demands heirs, but then Marcus had somehow managed to sneak into the stables to seek shelter from a storm, and well, funny how life turned out sometimes.
He stops just inside the door to their sitting room and takes in the sight of Marcus curled up against Jamie’s side, eyes eagerly scanning the pages of the storybook in Jamie’s lap, hanging on to every word.
Jamie’s voice changes from his normal accent into what he tries to pass off as refined and proper. The butchered pronunciation makes Marcus giggle and Gary has to laugh with him, which gives him away and Jamie and Marcus both look up from the book to him standing by the door.
“Pa! You’re done!”
Marcus hops down from the sofa and uses the setee as a springboard to hurl himself into Gary’s arms. He wonders briefly if other parents have mastered the arts of teaching their children that furniture and playgrounds are not the same thing, but has to let it go when his brain screeches catch!
“Yes, lad, work’s done. I’m sorry it took so long.”
Marcus shrugs and wiggles down to the ground again once he’s got a kiss on his temple, dragging Gary along with him to where Jamie is sitting.
“Da’s reading the story about the boy who out ate the troll.”
If he’s ever held at knifepoint and told to recite a story by heart, that would be the one. He doesn’t say that, though. It’s Marcus’ favourite. Instead:
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed ?”
It’s late, at least for an eight-year old. The sunset was hours ago, and Marcus had early lessons in the morning. Jamie had even earlier practice sessions to oversee which meant it would be Gary’s job to drag a very tired boy out of bed come sunrise. Marcus stops and turns to him, a well-practised pair of puppy dog eyes boring into Gary’s tired ones.
“But Da said I could wait up ‘till you got back.”
It’s not really a whine, but it’s close. Gary directs a stern glare at Jamie for breaking routine but is met with an equally stern glare for what he’s assuming is working so long into the night the third time in a row. He’s not really in the mood to fight that battle, which he will most likely lose anyway. And after all, Marcus is in his nightshirt and looks ready to head of to bed any second.
“Why don’t you go and jump into bed, and we’ll finish the story there” he suggests and turns the boy by his shoulders and gives him a gentle push towards his bedchambers, just down the hallway
Marcus skips ahead, ever so well behaved, and Gary waits for Jamie to stand up.
“Sorry for the late nights”, he offers as they start walking. He really is, quite honestly, even if it can’t be helped.
“The trading deals creating more trouble than they are probably worth ?”
“It really should be very straightforward. But you know Mino’s reputation. Trading deals are not good enough for him. He feels he needs to be properly compensated for his troubles of writing letters for the deal to even happen. It’s driving me mad.”
Jamie hums in agreement and slings his arm around Gary’s waist. He leans in with a pleased smile on his face, mouth mere inches away from Gary’s ear.
“I can make you forget all about him all night if you want, you know”, he whispers. He’s never really been good at being sultry, but he doesn’t have to. The innuendo is enough in itself.
Gary could smack him for being so suggestive when he is so tired, and they got a bedtime story to finish, and after that, sleep to catch up on. Instead, he goes for the next best thing, turning his head so he can catch Jamie’s lips before he has the time to move away.
It’s not the light peck he intended it to be. In fact, Jamie even stops, so he can kiss back properly. Gary smiles into it and feels his heart squeeze again. A warmth spreads inside him, a kind of happiness he’d never thought would ever be there again.
David can never return from the dead. But his life didn’t continue on in loneliness and heartache as he might’ve believed when he first laid eyes on the dead body. He has Jamie to hold and to love and to be held and loved back. He has a son that stays up past bedtime to see him, who asks for stories and smiles brighter than the sun. They have a castle that was cold and grey and has somehow become a home filled with laughter and colours and smells of fresh cakes and biscuits.
He takes the hand Jamie had placed around his waist and laces their fingers together between them. When they pull away, they stand there for a second, noses almost brushing and he laughs.
It was nice, he thought.
Very nice, to be happy.
#carraville#royalty au#this is so soft and wonderful and brilliant#and exactly what we deserve after last night ♥#fic rec
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Below is not my fic, but one I have been so graciously gifted by an anon in my ask box, featuring carraville and this royalty au (and sweet, delicious angst!)
~*~
“James?”
“Hm?”
“Are you going to look at me at all today?”
Jamie’s eyes flickered up to meet Gary’s but quickly turned away again towards the window and the star lit night outside.
“That wasn’t looking at me”
“Yes, it was”
“James”
“Hm”
Gary let out an audible sound of frustration.
“James, honestly. What is wrong with you today? You have been out of sorts ever since we woke up.” Gary walked over to where Jamie was standing and touched his back gently.
“Whatever you drank after I went to bed needs to be banned from the entire country if this is what it does to you” he tried to joke, but Jamie didn’t even attempt to make his half smile look real and still looking at all other places than Gary’s face. Gary tried a different approach.
“Hey, I know this isn’t the life we planned for, but we are married now, and we have become friends and we work well together. I care about you, you dolt, no matter what the circumstances are. Whatever it is you can tell me”
It was more gentle than Jamie had ever heard Gary say anything and it made him feel even worse.
Because he wouldn’t care after Jamie told him the truth. He wouldn’t want to be his friend or want to work with him. He wouldn’t be so gentle, or give Jamie any of his smiles across the table in meetings or snicker at Jamie’s jokes or want to conspire with him to make the kitchen aid finally ask out the girl working in the stables. Jamie would never again feel Gary’s warm hands massage his still aching wounds from the war, and Gary would never let Jamie comfort him after yet another nightmare.
He would never forgive Jamie for the circumstances that lead to them to be married, because Jamie was the reason Gary had become a widower in the first place.
The portrait had been stowed away with a lot of other things that was just gathering dust in the cellars, where they also happened to keep some of the properly aged wine that Jamie had brought with him to their new home. It was rarely touched and so kept firmly away from the kitchens, because it was something that reminded Jamie of home and a different time, and Jamie himself only brought it up for special occasions. He had planned to take one so he and Gary could share in a few days, on the three years anniversary of the day they had agreed to get married for the sake of the peace. It seemed ridiculous now.
Gary in the portrait had been standing proud in his regal uniform, a ceremonial sword at his hip, because in reality he was captain of the archers. Beside him, holding on to his arm was Gary’s late husband. Same uniform, but with the pins and stripes that placed him firmly on the front lines with a sword and a shield. A sword and a shield that hadn’t been strong enough up against Jamie, who had plunged his own sword through the middle of Gary’s late husband and had felt merciful because it was at least quick and relatively painless.
The idea of painless felt like a joke now. Because he had seen Gary’s grief and pain in his eyes when they first met. Had felt it himself when he received the news that his own husband did not make it back home. And he felt it grow bigger inside of him now, as he looked to a future where Gary wasn’t dead but hated him all the same.
He sat down at a settee by the expansive window, and Gary sat down beside him. Both of his hands held on to Jamie’s and he dimly recognised the thought that he would miss it, the warmth of Gary’s hands, once they pulled away and would never reached out again.
“You will hate me after I tell you” he managed to croak out. Gary’s warm hands tightened around his.
“I don’t think anything could make me hate you at this point” Gary said, still so gently, and oh how Jamie would miss it.
“This will”
“James, you are scaring me here. If you were unfaithful then, well, we never said that agreement ended, did we?”
They had agreed to that, in the early days. Because it hadn’t been love, just a convenience. And so they had come to the conclusion if they wanted to bed other people that was fine as long as it didn’t create a scandal. It was never outright decided to end that arrangement, but it was mutually understood nonetheless. The idea of going to bed with someone else made him sick to his stomach, and he needed Gary to know that.
“No, I would not do that. I would never go to bed with any other than you. Never, love, please believe that”.
He hadn’t been looking at Gary the whole day, but he was now, eyes pleadingly staring into Gary’s, hoping to convey it would never happen. Gary’s reassuring smile confirmed he was believed. If only that ended the problem at hand.
He turned his head away again, and brought their joined hands to his lips so he could kiss them. One last time.
“I killed him, Gary” he finally whispered, when he had been quiet for a moment gathering all his courage.
“I killed him during the battle on the west bank, the week before the war ended”
“I killed people in the war too, James” Gary reasoned, somewhat confused as to why it was causing Jamie trouble now.
“No, love. I killed him”
He turned his face towards Gary, because if nothing else he deserved to see Jamie’s eyes as he was told the truth. And maybe he would see the regret, or the pleading for mercy, and if nothing else know Jamie was sorry for causing such pain.
“The man next you in the portrait. The one stowed away in the cellar, I found it last night. I killed him”
The cold Jamie had been dreading once Gary drew his hands and away and stood up was a hundred times worse than he had thought it to be. He didn’t need to look up from his own hands to know that Gary had taken ten steps away from him and was now pacing the length of the room, occasionally throwing glances at his husband.
And what could Jamie say ? Sorry did not cut it. No words could undo the damage, no actions could bring the love of Gary’s life back. And yet here they were, trapped together for the sake of peace, but Gary could’ve been in his old castle, with his old husband, had Jamie only listened to the doctors and stayed in the infirmary with his not-yet healed wounds a little bit longer.
He opened his mouth to voice his regret. It would not help anything, but pleading for forgiveness, no matter how futile, seemed like the only thing he could do at the moment. But before he could stack the proper words together, the door slammed shut, Gary was gone and Jamie felt even colder.
#carraville#football rpf#fic rec#royalty au#TO SAY THAT I SCREAMED#this is a thing of immense beauty and power#and i dont have the words to describe how grateful i am#to be gifted it
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below is not my fic, but yet another carraville masterpiece from raisin anon -- the fuck ESL special.
They’re lying in bed after the show in their apartment down in London, way past midnight, but neither have managed to fall asleep just yet. Usually, after both of them have been on MNF, the banter is endless and relentless, occasionally broken by shared kisses or giggles as hands roam freely in the privacy of their flat. Like when Gary was on the show two weeks ago.
But not tonight. It was silence between them as Gary unlocked the door and no pulling of funny faces in the mirror when they brushed their teeth. Twitter is blowing up, singing their praises for the words spoken earlier, how they all must stand together, United and Liverpool and Chelsea and Tottenham and Arsenal and City supporters, how they cannot let greedy owners ruin their game, how Sky must also recognise they broke away back in ‘92 as well. Jamie has absolutely zero intentions of looking at any of the messages. He just wants to sleep. He just wants to lie in bed with Gary and forget for a moment everything that is wrong in the world.
“D’you reckon we can stop this ?” he asks in a low voice. Gary is sitting semi propped up against the headboard with Jamie resting his head against Gary’s shoulder and the arm connected to it slung around Jamie’s back. They haven’t spoken since Gary asked if he wanted to shower before bed and Jamie declined, but he knows his boyfriend isn’t asleep, based on his thumb drawing slow, delicate circles where Jamie’s forearm becomes elbow.
“We have to. Letting it go through is not an option”
It sounds weirdly close to the way many footballers think before a game, losing never being an acceptable outcome, and therefore they have to win. Of course, Jamie knows from experience, those convictions aren’t always enough, but he smiles a half smile nonetheless. Physically neither of them can play top level football anymore, but the mentally has never left.
“You sounded pretty convinced yourself earlier” Gary shoots back at him. It’s phrased as a statement but Jamie knows it’s not really.
“Just, I dunno, a bit worried I guess”. It’s the only way he knows how to phrase the unease he has felt since the news broke, but Gary seems to understand because he pulls his arm around him a bit tighter for a second and kisses the top of his head.
“Yeah, me too” he whispers as he pulls back.
That’s as soft as it gets with Gary, because a few seconds later Jamie can almost hear his body go into fight mode at the mere thought of this Stupid League and it reminds him of the Gary he saw in the dressing room with England, or in the tunnel before a derby, knows he will fight this until the end.
Some rich, greedy, selfish assholes thought they could buy their clubs and change their game. They got money and power and most likely a small country of lawyers. But Jamie has slayed giants before. He hadn’t given up as he walked out for the second half in Istanbul. Gary hadn’t stopped believing when they were still behind going into injury time in Barcelona.
Football belonged to them. To the fans. To the communities. To the kids who dream. Not to someone seeking profits and fake glory. They would get their sport back, Jamie was sure of it.
(And it came down to desperate times and all that, he had gotten pretty good at boxing. Perez wouldn’t stand a bloody chance in the ring.)
#carraville#raisin anon#football rpf#fic rec#LISTEN when i say I yelled!!!#this is *chef's kiss* but what else is new
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