#don't look back (1967) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theetherealbloom · 8 months ago

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I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Paring: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort,

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D”

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls.

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

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queerfables · 1 year ago

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I wanted this post to be more coherent but I am coming apart at the seams. Listen. Listen to me. Listen look no look me in the eyes and listen LISTEN.

Crowley and Aziraphale know. They're in love, and they know. Their love is requited, and they know. That's why it hurts so much! They don't say it. They can't say it. The consequences for both of them could be disastrous. But they know, they know, they know.

This is forbidden love at it's absolute pinnacle. This is centuries of dancing around an unsayable, inescapable truth. Loving someone this way is intense. It's a fiercely romantic headrush, because everything is high stakes fantasy and it's you and your beloved against the world. It's a soul crushing nightmare because the thing you want more than anything is always there, just out of reach. It's passion and yearning and stolen touches and desperately hoping the other person understands all the things you can't say.

It's also just unbelievably stupid. You have a sizzling moment of intimacy with someone and then three days later you're trying to act like business associates.

This dynamic has been present since season one, and sometimes the atmosphere between Crowley and Aziraphale becomes urgent and surreal enough that they almost name it. There's the bandstand, where Crowley suggests they could run away together. There's Aziraphale in 1967 saying, maybe one day we'll dine at the Ritz. These aren't the words of those unsure of another's feelings. These are declarations made in the clearest terms they dare.

The clincher for me is Aziraphale's face when Shax says she wouldn't have thought he was Crowley's type. It's a nasty comment meant to play on Aziraphale's insecurities: "If you're anything to him, it must be something sordid, and I'm surprised you can even offer him that." And she completely misses the mark! Aziraphale disregards her words without a thought. That eyebrow says he knows exactly how Crowley feels about him, and Shax's insinuation is laughable. He is uniquely Crowley's type.

It's less definitive for Crowley, and it makes sense that it would be. For the most part, Crowley is the accelerator and Aziraphale is the brakes. It is hard to hold faith that someone wants you when all they can tell you is "slow down". That doesn't mean he's unsure of Aziraphale's feelings. It means that he's unsure how much he's allowed to say. Aziraphale wants him to push right up until he doesn't, and it hurts them both when they go too far and have to walk it back. Even so, Crowley's confession makes it pretty clear that they're both in on this unspoken thing between them:

"you and me ... group of the two of us ... and we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't"

And then he kisses Aziraphale. And he doesn't do it carefully or tentatively. He doesn't wait for Aziraphale to be ready. Because that's how this dance goes, isn't it? Aziraphale wants him to push, and it's going to hurt and they're going to have to walk it back but fuck it all because Crowley is going to give them the thing they've spent their existence pretending they didn't want.

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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girlactionfigure · 1 month ago

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"We don't want no Zionists here" is not a righteous political slogan.

Every single country that has ever outlawed Zionism went on to persecute, abuse, and even expel its Jewish population…whether said Jews identified as Zionists or not.

This is one of the many reasons Jewish historical literacy is so important.

IRAQ

When Israel declared its independence in 1948, Zionism became a capital crime in Iraq. However, Iraq’s persecution of “Zionists” dated back to the 1930s; for example, in 1935, all Palestinian Jewish* Hebrew teachers were deported and the head of the Iraqi Zionist organization was put on trial.

For a Jew to be convicted of the crime of “Zionism,” they only had to be denounced by two Muslims, and there was no system of appeal. Under the guise of anti-Zionism, Jews in Iraq were systematically charged with treason, dismissed from their jobs, arrested on trumped up charges, tortured, and even executed. Oftentimes, their assets were seized, totaling around $80 million.

The “proof” that a Jew was a “Zionist” was often tenuous at best. For example, in one case, a Jewish man was sentenced to five years of forced labor because he owned a Biblical Hebrew inscription, which his accusers falsely claimed was a “coded Zionist message.”

While the Iraqi government claimed to go after “Zionists,”anti-Zionist and non-Zionist Jews were not spared.The most prominent case was that of Shafiq Ades, who had long been openly anti-Zionist. Ades was arrested on charges that he had sold arms to Israel. He was not allowed the right to a defense and was tried and convicted in a show trial. He was publicly executed on September 23, 1948, to a crowd of 12,000 onlookers.

By the early 1950s, 120,000-130,000 out of 150,000 Iraqi Jews had fled Iraq. By 1967, only 3,000 Jews remained in Iraq. Nevertheless, following the Arab countries’ defeat in the 1967 Six Day War, the Iraqi government amped up its crackdown on “Zionism.”

As part of this crackdown, Jews were dismissed from their jobs, their bank accounts were frozen, and they were confined to house arrest.

In 1968, the new socialist Ba’athist regime announced that they were “hunting down an American-Israeli spy ring” that was supposedly trying to destabilize Iraq. Twelve people -- nine of them Jews -- were arrested. The Jews were hung publicly in January 1969 without trial to a dancing crowd of 500,000 people. Another 40 Jews were “disappeared” by the secret police; in total, some 100 Jews out of the community of 3,000 were imprisoned and tortured in 1969 alone.

These Jews were accused and convicted of Zionism, treason, and spying not based on legitimate evidence, but rather, entirely arbitrarily. For example, Daoud Ghali Yadgar was one of the nine Jews who were hanged in 1969. In 2019, his cousin, Nitzan Hadad, explained: “Soldiers had entered their home looking for the eldest son, who was in London studying. When they asked who was at home, my aunt replied that her other son, Daoud, was home. So they took Daoud instead and accused him of spying for Israel.”

*At the time, any citizen of the British Mandate of Palestine was known as a “Palestinian,” regardless of their ethnic or religious background.

EGYPT

Egypt, too, claimed to crack down on “Zionists,” but in reality made virtually no effort to distinguish between Zionists and Jews. In 1947, the Egyptian prime minister told the British ambassador, “All Jews are potential Zionists [and] ...anyhow all Zionists are Communists.”

After Israel's independence, scores of Jews were arrested and imprisoned in Abu Qir detention camp. Professor Chacham Choureka, who was later arrested in the 1950s, described the situation, noting, “The authorities didn't differentiate between teaching Judaism and Zionist activity. In reality though, part of teaching Torah is about Israel.”

As in Iraq, the anti-Zionist incitement in Egypt led to a number of repressive policies, arrests, and more. The 1956 Suez Crisis between Israel, Egypt, France, and Great Britain further exacerbated the already precarious situation. Once again, the Egyptian government made its position clear, declaring that “all Jews are Zionists and enemies of the state.” Thousands of Jews were then imprisoned on “Zionism” charges or removed from their jobs. Ironically, prominent anti-Zionist Jews also suffered the same consequences.

THE SOVIET UNION

The Soviets considered all forms of non-Russian nationalism — including Zionism — a threat to their budding communist empire. In 1918, the midst of the Russian Civil War, the Soviet Communist Party established a “Jewish branch,” with the consent of Vladimir Lenin. It was named “Yevsetskiya,” meaning “Jewish Sections of the Communist Party.”

The mission of the Yevsetskiya was, quite literally, the “destruction of traditional Jewish life, the Zionist movement, and Hebrew culture.” In other words, this Jewish branch of the Soviet government was dedicated solely to the destruction of fellow Soviet Jewry. Until their dissolution in 1929, they imprisoned, tortured, and murdered thousands of Jews. According to historian of Soviet history Richard Pipes, “In time, every Jewish cultural and social organization came under assault.”

As early as 1934, the Soviets presented the Jewish Autonomous Oblast, a region in the Russian Far East, as an “alternative” to Zionism. Despite rosy Soviet government propaganda, the Jewish Autonomous Oblast, located along the Russia-China border, was nearly impossible to cultivate for non-natives to the region and practically inhospitable. Though the government never outrightly admitted it, the Jewish population transfers to the Jewish Autonomous Oblast were a form of forced deportation, similar to other population transfers of ethnic minorities in the Soviet Union.

Post-World War II, Jews in the far-flung republics Azeri and Uzbek republics of the Soviet Union were forced to attend anti-Zionist demonstrations, where they were made to publicly disavow Israel and Zionism under threat of arrest, deportation to gulags, or worse.

The Soviets’ “anti-Zionist” campaign culminated in the Doctors’ Plot, when “Zionist” Jewish doctors were arrested, tortured, and executed on entirely fake charges that they had plotted to assassinate Stalin. Some historians believe that this was only part of a wider plan for the ethnic cleansing of the Soviet Jewish population…all under the guise of anti-Zionism. However, due to Stalin’s sudden death, the plan was ultimately never carried out.

The Soviets were interestingly never covert about the fact that their “anti-Zionist” campaigns were actually just antisemitic. In the 1960s, Soviet propaganda made blatantly antisemitic claims, including: “The character of the Jewish religion serves the political aims of the Zionists,” “Zionism is inextricable from Judaism, rooted in the idea of the exclusiveness of the Jewish People,” comparisons of Judaism to the Italian mafia, and claims that Israel was merely a means to an end of Jewish imperialism and world domination.

The repression of Soviet Jewry under the guise of “Zionism” only intensified after the 1967 Six Day War. Jewish cultural and religious life was highly restricted. Virtually every institution in Soviet society heavily discriminated against the Jewish population; for example, Jews were subject to highly restrictive university quotas. This placed Jews in a catch-22: on the one hand, they were not free to live as Jews; on the other, they were also barred from integrating as Soviet citizens.

For this reason, hundreds of thousands of Jews were desperate to flee the Soviet Union. Requesting exit visas was considered an act of treason. In order to apply for exit visas, Jews first had to quit their jobs; however, this put them at risk of being accused of “social parasitism,” which was considered a crime. After having their visas refused, Jews were also then prevented from obtaining new work. Then, this joblessness was criminalized. Soviet Jews were stuck in an impossible living situation.

POLAND

n 1968, a series of student-led protests broke out against the Communist government of Poland. The Polish government responded to the instability by scapegoating their now tiny post-Holocaust Jewish community, enacting a a massive “anti-Zionist” propaganda campaign, spreading conspiracies that Zionist were plotting to take over Poland.

The Polish public was then forced to renounce Zionism, and Jews, whether they identified as Zionists or not, were purged from their positions in the government and other sectors, accused of holding dual loyalties to Israel. Many were arrested, beaten, and tortured. In its efforts, the Polish government created lists of Jews, eerily echoing the policies in Poland under Nazi occupation just several decades prior.

As a result of these campaigns, 15,000 out of 25,000-30,000 Jews in Poland were stripped of their Polish citizenship. The 1968 Polish political crisis is sometimes called a “symbolic pogrom” because Jews experienced such severe disenfranchisement that many took their lives in a string of suicides.

ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF IRAN

According to Iranian-American policy analyst Karim Sadjapour, the three ideological pillars of the Iranian regime are “compulsory hijab, death to America, and death to Israel.”

Immediately after the Iranian Revolution and the rise of the Islamic Republic to power, the Israeli embassy in Tehran was attacked and turned into the Palestinian embassy. To this day, the Islamic Republic has erected an “Israel annihilation clock” in Tehran, counting down the days to Israel’s supposed destruction. Incitement against “Zionists” and the “Zionist entity” is commonplace in Islamic Republic political discourse; for example, in 2006, then-president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad stated, “The Zionist regime will be wiped out, and humanity will be liberated.”

About a month after the Islamic Republic came into power, the Ayatollah Khomeini made an example of a prominent Jewish community leader, Habib Elghanian, by accusing him of “Zionist espionage.”He was arrested, tried in a sham trial that lasted less than 20 minutes, and executed by firing squad.

Incidents such as this one prompted 80% of Iran’s ancient Jewish population to flee the country. Today, the 8,500 Jews still living in Iran are subject to second-class citizenship and are constantly under the suspicion of the regime, for which they must tread carefully, never openly criticizing the regime’s implementation of Sharia Law or revealing any ties -- however tenuous -- to Zionism or the State of Israel.

ETHIOPIA

In the late 1970s, a new Marxist government rose to power in Ethiopia. An antisemitic, anti-government right-wing group began a killing spree in 1978, cutting children’s feet off, bludgeoning babies, castrating men, raping women, torturing elders, and selling women and children into slavery.

Instead of condemning the attacks, the Ethiopian government decided to crack down on its Jewish community. They claimed to do so in the name of combatting “Zionist propaganda.”

Because of the worsening conditions, Ethiopian Jews tried to flee to Israel. As a punishment for “Zionism,” Jews were collectively arrested, tortured, and hung.

LIBYA

After the establishment of the State of Israel, Libya criminalized individuals who communicated with anyone in Israel, creating a difficult situation for Libyan Jews, most of whom have family in the Jewish state. By 1961, all but six members of the ancient Libyan Jewish community were denied Libyan citizenship.

OTHER

A number of other countries, such as Pakistan and Algeria, have passed laws criminalizing Zionism after the entire Jewish community was already expelled or fled from the country. In Pakistan, the criminalization of “Zionism” means that carrying a Jewish symbol like the Star of David can land you in prison.

SOME TAKEAWAYS

(1) Zionism is a political movement…a political movement, which, whether you like it or not, is objectively rooted in 3000 years of Jewish history, culture, and tradition. Anti-Zionists overwhelmingly reject not only Zionism as a political movement, but the 3000 years of Jewish history, culture, and tradition that precede it, because such history, culture, and tradition may provide an “explanation” or “justification” for Zionism. Therefore, it’s no surprise that, for example, a Jewish man in Iraq was charged with the crime of Zionism for owning a Biblical Hebrew inscription or that the Egyptian authorities did not differentiate between Zionist activism and teaching about Judaism. History shows us that crackdowns on “Zionism” always, without fail, turn into crackdowns of any and all expression of Jewish identity (which is precisely why anti-Israel protestors were shouting “we don’t want no Zionists here” in front of a Jewish hospital, which has no specific ties to Israel or Zionism).

(2) Polls consistently show that between 80-97% of Jews identify as Zionists and/or believe in the State of Israel’s right to exist. There isn’t much difference between marginalizing 80-97% of Jews and marginalizing allJews.

Perhaps it’s time to consider that the overwhelming majority of Jews identify as Zionists not because we are collectively evil, but rather, based on our own experiences and understanding of our history, identity, and tradition. Perhaps it’s time to consider that you don’t understand how Zionists define their Zionism.

(3) When you don’t want “Zionists” in Israel and you don’t want “Zionists” wherever else it is you live, perhaps the problem is not where we live, but that we live.

Anti-Zionists claim anti-Zionism is not antisemitism, and yet, every single "anti-Zionist" campaign in history has resulted in antisemitism.

After everything our own parents and grandparents went through, why should we trust that your anti-Zionist campaign is any different?

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and Patreon.

rootsmetals

Jewish historical literacy is knowing that once they start going after “Zionists,” anti-Zionist Jews won’t be spared, either. So have some self-respect and stop groveling to people who hate everything about your Jewish identity.

#antisemitism #anti zionism

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forsworned · 6 months ago

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I just got a great idea. Imagine the teenage dirt bag trend with 141, where reader is chill and laid back, and as 141 and reader are in the break room, gaz or soap ask reader about her life before the military and she just goes to her office to get some photos of her and her friends in their teens, smoking weed and in some she has some sick piercings and a skater, or maybe even a motorcycle. I don't even know. I'm just rambling. You can write it if you want but if you don't want to then feel free to ignore me 🫶🏼🙆🏻‍♀️

author's note: and a great idea you have indeed :) i gotchuuu and im so sorry this took me forever to get to

tags: poly 141 antics, cheeky banter, and a lil flirting with the boys ;)

Breakfast is a fan favorite amongst the 141, especially when it involves the sweet and savory aroma of coffee, pancakes, eggs, and your famous potato hash—a dish that's practically a cult fave within the team. As you settle in your seat between Johnny and Kyle with your coffee mug in your hand, the group is chatting about their former glory days before they joined the military.

Johnny nudges you with a playful smirk, still noshing on a piece of toast. "So, hen, ye look like ye had a bit of a wild streak back in the day, aye? Bet ye were a right wee devil." His tone is teasing, laced with curiosity as his cerulean gaze lingers on you.

You roll your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Kyle chimes in, his tone equally teasing, "Yeah, you look like the type who got up to all sorts of dodgy stuff. Proper troublemaker, I reckon. C'mon love, spill the beans." He nudges with a grin.

Price looks over his newspaper at double trouble across the table, before turning the page, causing you to chuckle. "Well," you fish out your phone from your pocket and everyone leans forward in their seats as you scroll through your camera roll. You stop at an album and tap on it before rotating the screen to face them and they can't help the excited noises that leave their mouths.

"No way!" Johnny exclaims, his grin widens as he spots a photo of you leaning against a cherry red muscle car. "Is that a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro!?" Kyle chirps, taking your phone from you and you laugh at their reactions. That gets Price's attention and he leans over to get a gander of the rebellious glint in your eye and the streaks of red fashioned into your hair.

"Christ," He beams down at the photo and then up at you. "looks like you were quite the rebel, eh? No wonder these two pillocks won't stop botherin' ya."

Kyle lets out a whistle as he swipes to the next photo, showcasing you with a cigarette hanging between your lips, clad in a skimpy bikini, leaning against your palms on a beach on a sunlit beach with the sunset casting a tangerine glow. "Cheeky."

Johnny's eyes ream at the photo, taking you in your exposed form. "Aye, look at ye!" His cheeks flush as he tilts his head, peeking up at you. "I gotta give it ya, lassie, yer quite the stunner."

"And still are." Price adds, raising his eyebrows at you. You fluster at his kind words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Thank you,"

"Oi! Look at this one!" Johnny points to the screen again, having a good laugh. You lean into Kyle and giggle at the photo. Grin as wide as your face with an alligator's jaw clamped shut between your hands. "That cannot be real!"

"It's really not as wild as it looks. I was on vacation in Florida, and a local wildlife park had this little show where they let you hold and pose with a baby alligator. They made sure everything was safe and supervised. Super fun."

Price cocks an amused brow at you, sipping his coffee. "Baby alligator, eh? You're quite the thrill seeker."

"Yeahhh, not much has changed." Kyle ribs and the others laugh. It's true though. You were actively pursuing that adrenaline rush, so it didn't come as much of a surprise to them, especially not Simon.

As the laughter dies down, Simon, who was quietly enjoying his tea and observing the situation unfold finally speaks up, "You lot are gettin' too chuffed over this, but I gotta admit..." He leans back, his dark eyes fixate on you and you can't help but take notice of how his mask is scrunched up under his nose, revealing the pale pink of his lips. "Never quite pegged you for a lil rascal. Bet you gave your folks a right headache."

He prods the phone out of Johnny's hand and takes a look at the other photos they were scrolling through and softly snorting at what looks like an image of you on stage, strumming at a guitar and singing your heart out. "But I reckon that's what makes you fit in so will with these bunch of nutters." His lips quirk into a faint smile as he hands you back your phone and goes back to munching on his eggs. "Ain't it always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?"

Your cheeks blossom with warmth at his comment and the cute little smile that adorns his handsome face. "Well, I didn't think I was all that quiet." You poke your tongue in your cheek, gently prying the phone out of his hands.

His finger seems to biff at your screen as it clatters out of your grasp because his onyx eyes widen at the photo. Skin exposed, revealing the ink that embellishes your lower left hip in delicate, intricate patterns as you're posing sexy for the camera. Your heart plunges to your ass at the realization of it not being in your hidden album.

"Oh—that's, uhhh" You stammer swiftly, locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. Your tongue swipes at your lips as you avert your gaze, but Simon takes note of how you nervously twiddle with the spoon as it clatters against the walls of your mug.

Simon's eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he returns to his tea, "well, well, well..."

The rest of the team is still buzzing with the excitement of your heydays as they detect the slight change in atmosphere.

"Oi, what's all of this about, then?" Johnny asks with a mouth full of food. "Give us the scoop!"

But the Scotsman is getting scolded by Price and Kyle for not keeping his mouth shut while he eats. A sheepish smile adorns his lips, rubbing the back of his neck as he apologizes. Simon chuckles, and shakes his head, "Nothin' worth spillin', Johnny. Just a bit of a laugh."

Of course that earns some groans from them, but you can't help but bite your bottom lip and grin when Simon gives you a knowing look. Some secrets are best kept between friends.

masterlist

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vidavalor · 1 year ago

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Good Omens has shown us, among other things...

-Crowley pointing the paintball gun at Aziraphale and giving the office workers miraculous escapes from death *before* it showed us The Blitz, Part 2's Bullet Catch that shows us what he was referencing to Aziraphale by doing so

-Aziraphale's love of human magic and his vanishing coins act and Crowley grumbling about all of it *before* it showed us "the farthing has vanished!" and The Marvelous Mr. Fell and his "volunteer assistant" on stage in 1941

-The 1862 breakup *before* the 1827 scene that gives context for their traumas that led to the breakup

-The sexy lunch in 2008 *before* the ox rib date that started it-- all the way back in 2500 B.C..

-Crowley telling Aziraphale about his night dealing with the antichrist baby: "Well, not, delivered-delivered, just... handed it over" *before* professional midwife/cobbler Bildad the Shuite "birthing" Job and Sitis some "new" kids

-Crowley, alone, forced into the start of Armageddon by delivering the antichrist in a picnic basket *before* 1967, in which Aziraphale dreams of a world they could get to before they run out of time in which they could go on a picnic together

-Aziraphale looking to the side Crowley always comes up on when he hears the miracle sound in the sushi restaurant in 1.01 *before* we even know that Crowley always comes up in the same way from various scenes teaching us this

-Aziraphale's tartan obsession *before* its origin story, which is the date in Edinburgh in 1827 wherein he became spirituality Scottish and thought he lost Crowley and after which he adopted the tartan as a thing related to the two of them and never stopped wearing it. See also: showed us 1967 and the tartan thermos *before* explaining to us that the tartan isn't just something Aziraphale likes but is something with meaning to the two of them together as a pair

-Crowley rambling drunkenly about bananas, fish and gorillas in the bookshop *before* his and Aziraphale's 'banana fish gorilla shoelace with a dash of nutmeg' conversation over wine in 1941, showing us that he was drunkenly remembering in a scene in S1 a romantic scene in their history that we didn't know then and wouldn't know until S2

-Crowley & Aziraphale dining at The Ritz in 2008 in 1.01 *before* we even know that was The Ritz or why it matters that it was, which they don't tell us until the final, romantic moments of S1

-Crowley obsessively growing a large, lush, overhanging canopy of plants in his apartment *before* telling us he's got a thing for vavoom-y erotic gazing and kissing under the shelter of canopies the likes of which have never been seen in a Richard Curtis film

So, my dear, dear loves... explain to me why I'm not going to be adding to this list next season:

-that heartbreaking 2.06 kiss *before* the first one they had a bazillion years ago?

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale

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brummiereader · 28 days ago

Text

Sweet Dreams, Darling (Part One)

Summary: August 1907. The beginning of a whirlwind romance that would see you and Tommy separated then reunited again for years to come. But when you unexpectedly reappear one rainy morning back into his life, Tommy's distracted eyes have your reunion starting off on the wrong foot. In a desperate attempt to refresh your memory of the summer you spent together, Tommy patiently waits for the penny to finally drop.

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, sexual assault.

Word count: 3.5K

Authors Note: The song John sings to irritate Arthur with is an old cockney song called "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" by Merv Griffin. This first chapter is loosely based off the song "The Tunnel Of Love" by the Dire Straits, and how my grandparents met each other in the 1950's.

[Masterlist] [Trailer]

Birmingham, 1967

" We'll leave in an hour, Nan" your granddaughter softly smiled at you, chestnut brown locks falling in front of her rosy cheeks as she placed the small porcelain cup of freshly brewed tea on the doily covered table beside you.

" Thank you, dear" your eyes drifted solemnly from the black and white photo of you and Tommy next to the steaming cup of English brew. The captured moment, and its weathered edges, tucked safely behind the glass of it's silver-plated frame.

" Time doesn't half catch up on you when you're not looking" your eyes drifted down to your aged hands, to the wrinkles and patches of wisdom dotted across your skin as you reached out with shaky fingers to brush the pad of your thumb over your husband's youthful face staring back at you.

" Nan?" your granddaughter shifted towards you, hand resting gently on your back as her eyes darted to the bouquet of wrapped carnations, lonesome on her grandfather's leather upholstered chair of choice. "Nan, are you ok?"

" Hm?" you turned to see the concern in her eyes, to the feeling of her hand clutched tightly around yours in a pang of worry.

" Oh, don't fret lovey. All is well" your fingers brushed the ringlet of hair from her face to see the crystal blues of her eyes she and every member of your and Tommy's brood had inherited.

"Ok" she quietly caved in to your smile of reassurance as she watched your attentions drift back to her suited grandfather, sat stoic beside you in the portrait taken many moons ago.

" How did you and Grandad meet?" she was eager to lighten the mood. To one of happy memories. To the many stories she had been told by her grandfather when Sunday dinner had been eaten. When the dishes had been cleared, and she sat patiently by his chair, waiting for him to tell her about the tales of his youth while they both indulged in the stash of black liquorice sat in a ceramic pot by his favourite seat, neither one of them had a liking for. All but one story that was. A story he'd left for you to tell. One she was eager to learn before it was time to leave.

" Which time, my dear?" you turned with the milky cup of black tea perched between your lips, welcoming the warmth of England's remedy to all of life's hardships settle in your chest as the drizzly weather dusted the tips of your freshly cut grass with beaded droplets of rain.

" Nan, you must be confused. Surely you could have only met once?" your granddaughter's head lowered with a blushing smile at your usually sharp memory succumbing to your old age.

" Oh, but we didn't, dear. Even though your Grandfather's stubbornness on the matter often insisted otherwise" a youthful giggle erupted from your chest as a flurry of memories about both encounters swarmed back to you in a warm hug.

"The first time I met your Grandfather, he wasn't that far off from your own age" you adjusted yourself in your floral recliner for the long tale ready to be told as you placed your cup of tea down on its silver coaster.

" And the second time...well, I didn't recognise him at all" you watched your granddaughter eagerly nestle in, pulling one of your hand-knitted cushions into her lap.

" Tell me about it, please?" her eyes beamed with curiosity. Her buoyant energy and keenness to learn about how you had met, awakening the sounds of spinning carousels, the melodies of your youth being played from the intricately placed chimes of a wooden music box.

" It was the summer of 1907, the hottest day on record. And the fair had come to town..."

August, 1907

" I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" John, burdened with the title of middle child sang with the intention of irritating his older brother as giggling children ran by with fluffy clouds of sugared treats, whilst the sounds of a wooden music box being turned by a tattooed armed man, played through the buzz and excitement of the fair.

"Shut it, John" Arthur grumbled, eyes narrowing in on the stack of tropical fruits as he rolled the metal ball in the palm of his hand.

" There they all just standing in a row" the cockney classic continued as he plonked himself down on top of the table.

"Would ya bleeding shut it!" Arthur growled, squeezing the iron ball he was seconds from launching at his brothers head.

"Big ones, small ones" John cupped his shirted bosom with pouting lips as he slid into Arthurs line of sight.

" Idiot wants me to kill him" Arthur quietly smirked as his aim shifted to his brother's cackling face.

"Got too many brothers anyway" the eldest Shelby mumbled under his breath, squinting eyes curling at the obnoxious noise accompanied by Johns flamboyant dancing as his arm stretched out beside him, weapon firmly grasped between his fingers.

" One less mouth for Aunt Poll to feed, ay Tommy? Tom?" Arthur's murderous intentions went unheard as Tommy's remained elsewhere to a young girl with rebellious whispers of hair blowing in the summer breeze. A perched basket of freshly picked apples resting on her hip, ready to be dipped into their delightful syrupy mixture.

"Shit..." Tommy mumbled under his breath, eyes darting to find you disappearing among the swarming crowd as he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow before taking off in search of you.

"You won!" John jumped off the table, head snapping back to the tumbling sound of fuzzy coated coconuts falling to the ground.

"What d'you mean?..." the eldest brother sniffed, prize in hand as he turned to see the confusion knitted between John's brows.

"...I missed" Arthur's Cheshire smile grew at the slouching one of John's as his stuffed win landed with a hard thud across the back of his head before his darting eyes searched for his now, favourite brother.

"Where's Tom at?"

Swerving through the teeming crowd of people patiently waiting for a spin on the galloping horsed carousel, Tommy's searching eyes finally landed on you.

" You in line, Mister?" a young boy, cheeks full of candy floss tugged at the cuffs of his shirt as the line of fairgoers moved forward, pushing Tommy to the front.

" Ay?" Tommys eyes darted to and from the small child to you disappearing behind the wooden stalls of prizes yet to be won as he held up the huffing crowd.

" You getting on or what, son?" the stout operator grumbled with a flick of his head for Tommy to step onto the rickety ride, its wooden frame decorated with weathered looping twirls from the many summers it had seen.

" 'ere" Tommy reached into his pocket, handing the last of his tickets to the sticky cheeked boy before setting off in search of you for a second time.

" Thanks mister!" a squeaky call of gratitude saw Tommy off to the back of the brightly covered stalls, to you stood with a young man hovering over you.

" Go on, give us a quick kiss then" the towering lad, dressed down in only a vest and tweed trousers kept you in place as the scorching heat of the sun beamed down on your backs.

" Fuck off, O'Connor " your attempts to push past his strong build were rendered useless when his quick footing had him slip in front of you, thieving fingers delving into the basket of apples sat on your hip.

"Little tease" he bit down onto the freshly picked fruit with a smirk. Fingers lifting the ends of your dress for a peak under the frilly fabric, you hastily slapped away.

" Gonna ask your daddy for your hand in marriage. Won't be able to say no then" the teasing tone in his voice was suddenly replaced by his reaching hand, grabbing hold of your arm as he threw the half-eaten fruit behind him to the feet of Tommy, stood watching behind the wooden frame of the stall.

" He'll put a bullet through your chest before you get the chance if you don't let me go" you battled with his grasp with a stiffened bottom lip. Eyes watering at the stinging hold of his leathery hands searing your skin.

A good foot taller than him. Muscles as big as fucking boulders. Shit, Tommy thought to himself as he watched with rolling shoulders, pumping himself up for the scrap undoubtedly about to take place.

" Your pretty little head forgotten who owns this fucking fair?" his fingers cupped your cheek, forcing the back of your head against the wooden barrier separating you from aide.

"My old man was kind enough to give your family work when you lot came knocking. Can take it away just as quickly" he played with the fragile state of your family's finances, knowing how much you depended on your jobs at the fair to make ends meet.

" Come on, darling. Loosen up a bit, yeh?" his hand glided over your clothed breast in a hushed voice. Nestled head in the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of desire down your skin with moans of want as you squeezed your welling eyes shut, waiting for it to be over.

" Ay! Get the fuck off her!" Tommy raced forward, lean body ducking past O'Connor's turning shadow with a fist full of taught vengeance ready to be delivered in one mighty blow to his cheek.

And a mighty blow was dealt, one Tommy was sure had broken his hand when his stifled cries of pain had him swiftly turning his back to you in an agonising attempt to save face.

" You knocked the bastard out!" your back stiffened against the wooden stall as your widening eyes snapped down to the body of Sean O'Connor, slumped unconscious on the cracking earth of summers drought.

" Fuck!" Tommy's voice shrilled with a strangle bellow, succumbing to the stabbing pain shooting through his hand.

"Wha...what's his head made of? Fucking metal?!" he turned with a reddened face contorting in pain as his shivering hand, bloody and bruised, wiped his sweaty brow.

" Well, he is as thick as a brick" you stepped over the slumped body, heel of your shoe conveniently finding its way onto Sean's limp hand.

" Let me see" you slowly approached, gently cradling his hand in yours with an urgent need to inspect the damage that had been done.

" One of many battle wounds, I'm sure. But not broken" you quietly noted with a brush of your thumb over his battered hand, eyes locking with the besotted blue gaze staring down at you and the smile your own curling lips couldn't help but match as a blissfulll silence settled between you both.

"Thank you..." your gratitude came in a faint murmur against the sound of fairground melodies as you waited for him to introduce himself.

" Tommy Shelby" his freckled cheeks dimpled with a smile, bruised hand still cradled between yours in a hold so gentle, he'd all but forgotten about the throbbing pain he felt only moments before.

"I'm Y/N, Y/N Y/M/N" your cheeks blushed with a subtle sway of your hips as you melted under his crystal stare.

" Y/N" he echoed back in a whisper, eyes taking in every delicate feature that had captivated him from afar on the hottest day of August that was set to be the most cherished summer of his life.

" It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N"

For two months the fair had come to Birmingham. And for two months Tommy had visited you almost every day, spending a small fortune on tickets to go over looked by the watchful eyes of your family and those of Sean's who was laid up inside by the window of his family's wagon in search of the peaked cap boy who had bruised his ego.

But like most traveling folk, the time had come to move on. News the love-struck teen battled to swallow as he watched you clear the stall of trinkets and stuffed bears through the setting sun of the fair's last day.

" Can't you stay? Just one more day?" Tommy asked the impossible as he sat perched on the table next to you, picking at the splintering wood with eyes downcast at your shuffling feet.

" You know how it is, we never settle for too long" you caught his sorrowful gaze darting up at you as you placed the arms worth of prizes into its crate for his hand.

" Was just trying my luck, eh?" a faint smile and pull of your body had you settling yourself between his legs when a rowdy voice saw you both squinting through the fading sun.

" Come on, wrap it up, ay Tom! We've got a train to bloody catch!" Arthur called for his brother to hurry his goodbyes as a disgruntled Tommy mumbled his displeasure upon seeing him and John stood impatiently waiting for him.

" Here" you turned back with a blushing smile, fingers reaching into the wooden crate of treasures for a small box as Tommy's hands dropped to your waist. Eyes committing to memory every inch of your glowing face illuminated by the orange hues of the dying sun.

" Remember me by this" you pulled his hand in front of you, placing a small gold buckled ring on his thumb when your impending farewell got the better of you and a steady stream of tears began to roll down your cheeks.

With nothing left to say that would reassure your broken hearts you'd see each other again, your intended promises fell silent to the feeling of your lips meeting in a first kiss. A final goodbye to your summer romance.

" Don't forget me" you pulled away, cheeks dotted with tears when your shaky body was suddenly pulled back into a passionate embrace encouraged by the whistles and cheers of Tommy's hollering brothers before he left you stood where he'd first met you.

" Now how could I ever forget that, eh!" he called back with a boyish grin, adjusting his peak cap as Arthur landed a slap of approval to his shoulder before they ran to catch the last train of the day back to Small Heath.

High on the world, Tommy had already begun the count-down to when the fair would visit next year. But youth's wishfulness would be met with disappointment when life's hardships changed fate's trajectory and Tommy found himself hopelessly searching for you every summer as your face began to fade from his memory with each passing season. That was until an unexpected rainy day in 1914, when you'd meet again, for a second time.

Small Heath, 1914

"Easy on the breaks there, Tom. Easy now" Arthur held onto the dash of the chugging truck with a grunt. Regretting handing over the reins of designated driver to his younger brother

" It's a piece of shit!" Tommy protested about the dubiously sourced vehicle Arthur had scavenged.

" Yeh well, this piece of shit will see that this delivery finds its way to Charlie's yard" the two brothers shared a mischievous smirk as the sound of a truck's worth of nicked train tracks rattled behind them the Shelby boys would use to line their pockets for their growing family business ran out of their Watery Lane home.

" Turn 'ere" Arthur's eyes narrowed in on the end of the cobbled road, to the officer stood inspecting the goods of each passing vehicle after having learnt of the missing tracks that saw every train out of Small Health stranded that morning. " Tom, bloody turn!"

" It's...stuck!" Tommy battled with the wheel as the rattling truck rumbled towards the policeman eyeing up the chaotic scene of Arthur manhandling every leverage, every button in attempts to save themselves from driving head first into the baton-handed officer.

" Bloody thing!" the eldest brother leaned over, straining with Tommy to turn the stiffened wheel when the metal discs finally loosened and they swerved around the corner, narrowly missing the discovery of the tonnes worth of metal concealed in the back of the car.

" Fuck, that was a close one!" Arthur fell back into his chair with a chuckle as Tommy shot him an irritated glare at his useless ability to source the equipment needed to commit their petty crimes.

" Next time, I'm in charge" Tommy huffed as he turned his grinding jaw back to the road when something, or rather someone, suddenly caught his eye.

" Yeh, yeh" Arthur waved off his brother with a sniff, stretching his gangly legs along the foot of the car as Tommy found his eyes slipping to the cobbled path and the approaching sight of someone he never thought he'd lay eyes on again. You.

" Tommy. Ay, Tommy" Arthurs' heavy hand alerted his brother with a pat across his chest at the drifting wheels heading for the large puddle ahead.

Oblivious to the foolish cockup he was about to make. Tommy couldn't seem to drag his longing eyes from you after the seven years he'd gone without seeing you.

But a joyful reunion was off the cards for Tommy, whose frazzled thoughts had him forgetting that he was in fact, in control of the hurtling vehicle speeding your way. So frazzled that he had no time to react when the swerving wheels saw him drive into the large puddle, dosing you in a wave of muddied rain water.

" Shit! Shit!" Tommy's eyes darted to the rear-view mirror to you stood drenched from head to toe with waving arms as he slouched into his seat with reddening cheeks. His embarrassment only made worse by Arthur's perfectly sought choice of words.

" Well done you bloody idiot"

With a change of dry clothes and a frown permanently settled between your brows for the day that had started in a puddle of disaster, you began to tidy the countertop of the corner shop you now worked at. Unbeknownst that the very cause of said disastrous day, had inquired around the soot-covered town about your whereabouts, and was about to stroll through the door to the sound of the ringing bell hovered overhead.

You, you glared at the three men, eyes quickly hunting out the careless driver you remained oblivious to his connection to your youth.

With the sudden realisation that you didn't recognise him, Tommy casually drifted from shelf to shelf, to each boxed product and canned good while watching you in the corner of his eye as he swallowed back his disappointment.

Almost a decade later and you looked almost the same as you did on that sweltering summer day he had met you. A true beauty, one that had managed to turn him into a pathetic puppy-eyed boy like it had all those years ago. His enamorment with you, something he desperately tried to conceal from your glaring eyes, watching him over the newspaper in your hands.

With a roll of his shoulders, Tommy placed the can of beans back onto its dusty shelf, gold ring you had offered him all those years ago catching his eye. The same gold ring that had made its way across each growing finger, until it sat comfortably on his pinky.

" Packet of Sweet Aftons" he cleared his throat as you pulled your head up from the newspaper, forcefully folding its flimsy pages in half Tommy was sure would see the side of his face if he didn't say anything, if he didn't apologise for his small detour into you that morning.

" Of course...sir" your forced smile came with a hefty amount of exaggerated politeness that didn't go amiss by his sniggering brothers stood behind him.

" I erh, I didn't see you there...this morning, that is" he cleared his throat as you stepped onto the small wooden stool to the shelf of neatly arranged boxed cigarettes. The hung mirror reflecting off the wall, capturing Tommy elbowing his giggling brothers who were intent on making your reunion as painful as they possibly could for him.

" I would've stopped, but we were in a hurry" Tommy refrained from reminding you of who he was on a whim that you'd save him from further embarrassment when you finally recognised him. Or so he hoped.

" Five pence" you slammed the cardboard packet of rolled tobacco onto the counter, unimpressed with the strangers' attempts at a half-assed apology.

"Right" another wave of disappointment quietened his voice as he jostled in his suit trousers for the brassy coins.

" It's usually on the house, love" Johns ill timed remark left Tommy internally crippling at the smirk growing on your lips.

" That so?" your brows raised at the youngest's nodding head as you tossed each coin into the silver dipped till.

" Have a nice day, gentlemen" you shot a pursed smile at Tommy's lingering stare as you shut the metal draw with a loud clang.

With a knitted brow you watched each sharply dressed man leave the small corner shop, when the clouds parted, capturing the illuminated face of the sole culprit to your bad day. The blues of his eyes and freckled face causing a forgotten memory to emerge in the forefront of your searching mind. One you had no time to puzzle together when the hollering voice of your boss suddenly boomed in your ear.

" Oh bloody Christ! Jesus bloody Christ, Y/N!" your boss waddled towards you, your and Tommy's mutual gaze broken as he strolled past the shop window out of sight.

" What have you gone and done, you silly girl?" your employer paced back and forth, eyes nervously darting to and from the bustling street outside.

" Made you five pence is what I've done" you protested, hands coming down onto your hips with a knitted brow of confusion at his unexpected reaction at you doing your job.

" You're gonna have to go give them their money back. And...and apologise!" your mumbling boss brushed the film of sweat from his brow, fumbling fingers pulling the knobbly ended leaver to open the till.

" And why would I do that?" you watched him turn your hand in a panic, placing more than double the amount of the sale in your palm.

" You may be new here, but you'd be wise to learn about the people who run this shit hole we call home before you lose your eyes" your boss spoke of the emerging razor gang that had begun to slowly gain notoriety in the Birmingham district.

" And who might those people be?" your rolling eyes at his exaggerated worry about a group of petty chancers had you huffing as you pulled your coat over your shoulders, when he grabbed hold of your arm, whispering the name of the cutthroat gang you had encountered.

" The Peaky Blinders, that's who"

With stomping feet and locks of blowing hair trailing behind you in the bitter wind, you marched through the sludge of Small Heath to the pub the locals called the Garrison on the orders of your boss.

" Come on..." you grunted, straining to open the heavy doors of the tavern that's hinges had frozen in the frosty weather when you unceremoniously flew into the smoke-clouded pub with a tumble.

" Great" you mumbled under your breath at the murmur of low chuckles, the crowd of eyes glaring over their shoulders at your dramatic entrance.

Head held high above each following stare, you sought out the man you had been begrudgingly forced to apologise to. The very same man you found smirking at you over his pint of ale in a dimly lit corner of the pub.

" I hope you don't think I'm gonna pull out the red carpet for you" your apology fell short as you tossed the pennies onto the wooden table, fearless of him and his family's growing status in the town, having already lived a hardened childhood among petty criminals such as himself.

"Keep it. Buy a toffee apple" a boyish smile peaked at the corner of his mouth as he pushed the money back across the table to you. His attempts to refresh your memory only leaving you with a tilting head of confusion at his peculiar suggestion.

" You don't remember me, do you Y/N?" your brow scrunched upon hearing your name, when your attentions darted to the sound of a spinning coin coming to a stop, to the pinky-ringed finger tapping against its bronze printed front that suddenly caused a wave of memories to hurtle back to you about the boy you had shared a fleeting teen romance with.

Tommy Shelby. Your summer love.

*I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter in the comments below 💚*

[Next part]

Tag list: @mischievouslittlecreature @peakyswritings @jbrownta @youngbananamilkshake @meadowshelby

@dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @novashelby

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby angst #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders series #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x female reader #cillian murphy

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queenofthearchipelago · 1 year ago

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I know everyone's saying that come season 3 we'll have a kiss in 1941, but I'm still on the side of them having an almost kiss in 1941. It's probably because I love pain but imagine them after they get rid of the Nazi zombies for good, saving each other's lives in the process, they're in the bookshop talking as they usually do. Imagine the hour growing late, Crowley standing from his place on the couch to leave. Aziraphale walks him to the door, and there's just this moment that passes between them. Crowley's hand on the doorknob, and they aren't saying anything, but this time, they don't have to. I don't want to leave but I have to. Thank you for saving my life. I'm so relieved I was able to save yours. If anything happened to you, I'd... and they're just right there. So close. The last time an angel and a demon were this close to each other, it was in battle. But not here, not in this bookshop. Not with this angel and this demon. There's something else here. One day, when they have the freedom to allow themselves the thought, they'll call it love. But today... Aziraphale steps away.

"Why not?" Crowley whispers.

Aziraphale shakes his head at the ground, before looking back up into the curious, desperate, beautiful yellow eyes hidden behind Crowley's glasses.

"I can't," Aziraphale whispers back, something desperate painting itself deep in his eyes.

Crowley nods, reaching behind him for his hat hanging on the hat stand and placing it low on his head. Turning the doorknob, he gives Aziraphale a small bow and leaves.

It won't be until 1967 that Aziraphale finally finds the strength and the words to truly answer Crowley's question.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley."

#please tell me I'm not the only one hoping for this #good omens #good omens theories #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #I guess it's a small little something #thoughtsfromthequeen #good omens 1941

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evilkitten3 · 15 days ago

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things to do by places you're going - a travel guide

alaska - be killed by animals in silence

bangor - have fresh cranberries in your mouth

bogotá - hear the fire-eyed macaw sing

bolivia - have your room invaded by wildcats

brazil - touch your hair

bridlington - have blood all over your hands

bristol - break a coffee cup

buffalo - get in a taxi

california - stand on dry land and reap dividends under a cloudless sky

california (back to) - mourn randy rhoads

catalina - see a stranger in your eyes

chino - say hello to all your friends

cleveland - gnaw little holes in a net

dade county - look out at the front lawn at 6:31 am on a saturday

dallas - go to montana

denmark - be in a red brick building by a green field with a stream running through it

east rutherford - instructions unclear; check with nall

federal prison - run out of land

france - keep promises

georgia - have two big hands and a heart pumping blood and a 1967 colt .45 with a busted safety catch

hell - instructions unclear; move on

hungary - head straight to hell in a lincoln continental

jamaica - steal flowers from children

japan - get left behind in the sand

kansas - see the world pass by

kirby sigston - let the special chicken build a nest right by the window

lebanon - hear the city call

lebanon 2 - take note of what will be gone

lubbock - dig up a human skull bigger than a basketball

maine - get mailed flat rate right down to hell

malibu - sense the continent eroding

marrakesh - try to kill the same thing twice

mars - instructions unclear; send tumblr ask

maryland - hope no points repeat

mexico - burn in the morning

miami - imagine the bright pink color of the sky

michigan (or detroit) - know what i mean about the burning white rose

monaco - ask me to hold you (that's the devil's work)

morocco - have a guttural stop in your throat

niles - get chased out of town

norwalk - see a pair of raccoons heading to the gutter

palestine - smell oranges on the breeze

pomona (through) - remember who you were and what you came here for

port washington - have something on your mind

queens - know who you are yet

reykjavik - make yourself up again, brand new

san diego - don't believe your friends

santiago - get laughed at by birds

scotland - watch the night unfold

some damned english city - have a sad, sad friend in front of you

south carolina - instructions unclear; go away

spain - go on and board the plane

spirit lake - be on fire

tennessee - wash your face with that apricot scrub again

utrecht - look down through the third story window overlooking town

wisconsin - don't know where you are until you arrive

#the litter box #shitpost #the mountain goats #john darnielle #the extra glenns

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hollowed-theory-hall · 10 months ago

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what's the one harry potter pairing u like that u mentioned in the tags of your hinny post?

Anonymous: Can I ask who that minor character you ship with Harry is? For some absurd reason my mind jumped to Stan Shunpike lol but it's probably not him.... Or is it?

Okay, so this is kind of a funny story. Like, my pipeline through hp pairings was a weird one. Like, I used to read a lot of Harry pairings, still do on occasion (some make more sense than others). None of them were ones I would point at and say: "that should've happened in the books"

One day, I was innocently writing a fic (canon divergence of GoF), and it was just for me, for funnsies, never posted it anywhere and not planning to. And I planned to pair Harry with someone there (honestly, I don't remember who because I didn't write the plan down) but when writing, Harry ended up with a different character. And it was so strange to me because that never happened.

Like, how do you write a ship accidentally?

But I did. I wrote Harry into a ship by accident. So I went back to the books to try and figure out why the hell would my subconscious decide that's the way to go.

I'll also preface it by all this being my subjective opinion and I do read other Harry ships in fics, this one just quickly became my favorite to write (and the only one I write). Also, I don't actually think this is a pairing that should've happened in the books, it's place is in fic and that's where I like it.

So, the character I accidentally shipped with Harry is... *drumroll*

Stan Shunpike!

Not really, it's:

Theodore Nott

Now, you might look at the name and go: "Who the fuck is that?"

And you'll be correct. Theo has 0 speaking lines in the entire book series. His name appears twice. He, himself, as a person, only appeared on page, like, 3 times in the background. The scene that gives the most information about him is other characters talking about him. He isn't even present.

That being said, I'm very good at extrapolating a lot of information from very little evidence. So allow me, to walk you through who is Theodore Nott and why I ship him with Harry.

Basic Information

So, let's start with the most basic overview before I pull out the quotes and go any deeper.

We know Theo is a Slytherin student in Harry's year. So he likely shares a dorm with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Theo's father is both at the graveyard at the end of GoF and in the Department of Mysteries at the end of OotP, so we know he is a Death Eater. We also know Thoe's father was one of the first and closest Death Eaters to Voldemort, who waited for him during his interview with Dumbledore in 1967:

“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed...”

(HBP, page 444)

We also know the Nott family is "as pure-blooded as the Malfoys" according to JKR in an interview. We also know Theo's great-grandfather (maybe? the family relation isn't clear), Cantankerus Nott, is suspected to be the one who wrote the Pure-Blood Dictionary, the book that coined the term "Sacred 28" and made that list (which the Nott family are on).

The name Nott is potentially to be derived from the name Nótt, which is the personification of the night in Norse Mythology. So it has been theorized the Nott family have a Nordic origin. Possible, but it doesn't really matter for this post.

What does, is that he comes from a dark, Death Eater, blood-purist family similar to the Malfoys. Even so, Theo never took the Dark Mark and never joined Voldemort in the books.

Now, that we have the basic information out of the way, let's look at Theodore as a person.

All the details I could gather from the books

Alright, now we get to the fun part. That is, me going through all the relevant scenes that mention Theodore Nott and actually creating a character psychoanalysis out of basically nothing.

So, the quotes aren't organized in a particular order. I'm just going to explain Theo and then explain why all this makes me ship him with Harry.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —” “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.” Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humorless laugh.

(HBP, page 150)

This is a part of the conversation between Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, Harry overhears when he is hiding in their compartment at the beginning of HBP. I have a few things to note regarding this scene.

Firstly, throughout this conversation, Pansy, Blaise, and Draco all call each other by their first name. This shows closeness, they are all friendly and familiar enough to use their first names with each other. Theo, though, is referred to as "Nott" by all three in the compartment.

He doesn't actually sit in their compartment which is in itself a sign about how he isn't really friendly with Draco's group. Considering the group is most of his year from his house, Theo is likely very lonely, and it will be apparent from other scenes I bring up later.

Secondly, Theo's father is in Azkaban. We know Draco is bothered about his own father's predicament. He mentions it to Harry and bothers him over it, Theo doesn't though. Theo doesn't seem to be bothered by Harry or his father's incarceration.

The only conclusion I can draw from this is that the relationship between Theo and his father is not a good one.

(I know some fics like to have Lucius be abusive towards Draco, for some reason. But the books really don't back this up. Lucius loves Draco and Draco adores his father)

Theo, though, Theo seems to be the one with a very strained relationship with his father. Strained enough that he isn't bothered the man is in Azkaban. What I'm saying is that Theo's father likely abuses or mistreats him in some capacity.

If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions. He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he needed on Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters

(OotP, page 583)

This is a scene at the end of OotP after Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Theo's fathers were caught at the ministry and sent to Azkaban because they are Death Eaters. There are a few important notes about this scene.

The first, Hermione knows Theo, while Harry and Ron don't really. This means she likely knows him from the classes she takes and Harry and Ron don't — Arithmancy and/or Ancient Runes.

The second, he is sitting with other Death Eater children, but I don't think it's by choice. I mentioned in the previous quote how he isn't close to Draco and his crew. He sits with them here mostly because he doesn't have another choice. Theo doesn't seem to really have any friends, so he sits with the closest people he has to friends — kids he has known since he was young because their fathers were in the same circle.

The other note about this is that Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco are all mentioned as being threatening and malicious towards Harry because they don't like that their fathers are in Azkaban. Theo, though, Theo doesn't threaten Harry, he isn't part of their whisperings. As I mentioned above, he's likely happy his father is in Azkaban.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, “Why doesn’t Hagrid call again?” Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron’s and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face, and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

(OotP, page 445)

“The only people who can see thestrals,” she said, “are people who have seen death.”

(OotP, page 446)

The stringy Slytherin boy mentioned here is Theo. This scene proves that:

He takes Care of Magical Creatures

He saw someone die

Let's explore the second one for a moment. The fact Theo can see Thestrals means he watched someone die and was old enough to comprehend what he was seeing. We also know Theo's mother is dead. So it's likely the person he watched die was his mother.

I also want to draw attention to Theo's distaste towards Thestrals. He could likely see them carrying the carriages every year since 2nd year, it's not his first time seeing them. But it doesn't stop his displeasure with their sight from showing. Which says something about him. It means he likely recalls his mother and her death whenever he looks at the Thestrals. and these are memories Theo rather not experience.

We don't know how his mother died, but I'd hazard a guess it wasn't natural. After all, wizards have long life spans, they are more durable to illness and injury, and don't usually die from accidents unless very extreme or magical. And there was no epidemic of dragonpox (a disease that does tend to kill wizards) in the time since 1980 and the books. So, she was more likely killed at some point between 1985(ish) and 1991.

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

(HBP, pages 185-186)

First, Theo is an O student in potions since he is in the potions NEWT class, and was probably meant to be there even if Snape was the teacher.

Second, again, Theo doesn't really have friends. He sits next to Draco as the only other Slytherin in the class. Also, they share the circumstances of being sons of Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. Although both of them seem to deal with it quite differently.

Third, Theo joins Draco in making fun of Hermione's blood status, but he does not initiate it. Considering the environment he was raised in and is in, it makes sense he would make fun of it. Whether he's a blood-purist or not, he would want to keep his image considering he doesn't have many allies. Hanging out with Draco is survival, not friendship. They aren't even on a first-name basis with each other.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. . . .

(HBP, page 186)

The final quote I have about Theo is from the same potions class as above. Both he and Draco are portrayed here as underestimating amortentia and its potential damage. It makes sense for their upbringing in the Wizarding World, which has no real laws or regulations regarding love potions that are seen as harmless fun more often than not.

I'll add Theo likely didn't witness a healthy romantic relationship. Considering his father is a Death Eater who is likely abusive and may or may not have killed his mother. With this as his reference to a marriage, it's clear why he'd look down on love and love potions.

Why I think Theo and Harry have potential

Okay, so now that we know who Theodore Nott is, let's talk about why I ship him with Harry.

I think Harry, in general, would get along best with a clever partner with the ability to be ruthless (Slytherins or Ron fall into this category). Because Harry isn't some golden savior; he casts unforgivables, and is very willing to poison Umbridge or Crocio Snape if he could get away with it. He needs a partner that won't be horrified by these thoughts.

Also, Theo literally never speaks on page. Even when spoken to, his reactions are silent. I think this quiet and no need to talk, the ability to be comfortable in silence, is something that would be comfortable for Harry. Harry in the books finds himself annoyed with Ron and Hermione's constant banter on occasion, so I think it fits well.

Theo would also be comfortable around Harry without a need to play a certain part. Because Harry wouldn't care about that. He would honestly rather Theo forgo the pure-blood Slytherin act.

I feel like Harry and Theo, have a good potential to understand each other. Theo lost his mother and likely experiences abuse from his father. It makes them very likely to trauma bond over their crap life and shared experience. Two out of three only ones who could see the Thestrals in the entire class.

The other thing I feel they could connect over is being lonely. Harry spent all his childhood until Hogwarts basically being on his own. Theo stayed on his own. Draco at least has his parents, he has other students he's closer to, not that he shares everything with them, but he has some support network. Theo has none. And this is something Harry knows well.

Theo, I think, wouldn't expect anything specific from Harry. He doesn't even interact with him, not to mock him, and not to idolize him, he doesn't care at all. And we know how much Harry appreciates being thought of as Harry and not as the Boy-Who-Lived. Theo would allow Harry to be himself without some mold he wants him to fit in.

The fact Theo never becomes a Death Eater, even though he was in Draco's year and his father was a Death Eater before Lucius (and in better standing than Lucius with Voldemort) is so interesting. It's somewhat surprising Theo wasn't marked. It means he didn't want to be. It means that Theo Nott didn't want to torture and kill muggleborns or blood traitors, or anyone really. And he didn't want to swear his allegiance to Voldemort. This is just a fascinating fact to me and something I enjoy considering. What life experience made him come to that conclusion? Was it just his dislike of his father that pushed him away? Could he have been another Sirius Black (Gryffindor in a Slytherin family) under slightly different circumstances? I mean, Voldemort likely wouldn't force him to become a Death Eater, but would his father? I don't know what at all went down there, but I like that potential story.

We also know he wasn't part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, even though some minor Slytherins were mentioned to be part of it. He just seems to be an actually decent guy (I don't care what Cursed Child says about him, I know he's there but I avoided almost anything to do with Cursed Child so I barely know the plot).

Finally, this is a character Harry doesn't have as much drama to get over with. Yes, sometimes I want to read overcoming drama between characters before it becomes a romance, but sometimes I want something chiller than that. And Theo is a really chill, safe, Slytherin option for Harry.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hollowedtheory #hollowedheadcanon #hp #hp thoughts #harry james potter #asks #anon asks #anonymous #theodore nott #theo nott #nottpott #ship talk

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hide-your-bugs-away · 1 month ago

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A Dont Look Back edit I recall making three years ago amidst a migraine episode... COMFORT MOVIE!!! FAVORITE MOVIE!!! 🥹

Song: "Joe Blazey" by Dominic Fike

#hadn't posted either of my 'dont look back'-adjacent edits here yet so i figured i would since i still really like how they turned out 🥹🙏#honestly all of my animals edits are also 'dont look back'-adjacent 😔#i always joke that i use that footage of alan grimacing in all of them... I ALWAYS DO. I CAN'T HELP IT. THE EXPRESSION THAT CHANGED MY LIFE #anyway ee eee eee funny bob dylan movie. means a lot to me.#after the first half of the year i might work on-and-off on a 'dont look back' analysis script because there's SO MUCH TO SAY #the way some narrative arcs are subtly portrayed in such an erratic and intimate way is GENIUS. PENNEBAKER YOU ARE GENIUS.#bob has two (really three) coinciding arcs and the emotional linchpin of alan price plays a primary role in all of them in this essay i will #wAHHH honestly everyone plays a big role in all of bob's arcs 🙏 it's a group effort and that's why i love it so much #shout-out to the british music scene crica early-1965 all my homies love the british music scene circa early-1965 #i have some exciting art i will be preparing to celebrate it all......#(alan price will come free of charge of course. i am not unpredictable 😔🏳️‍🌈)#bob dylan #bob neuwirth #joan baez #alan price #albert grossman #donovan #bob dylan and donovan smile at each other in 4k resolution *explodes*#bonovan #dont look back #dont look back (1967)#don't look back #don't look back (1967)#classic rock #60s rock #1960s #things i said today

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greasegotahold · 3 months ago

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Lots of debate on the timeline of events in the outsiders and ages fitting into that, but according to Hinton Pony was born July 22, and he'd been 14 for about a month (line in the movie) when the main events kick off. That would put the murder during late August, which is exactly when that schoolyear would be starting. They only hide out for 5 days, which would put them at early September when they end up back home.

The rumble, Johnny's death, Dally's death, and Pony's concussion fainting happens the night after they get home.

Ponyboy comes to after 3 days, then ends up on bedrest for another week, where he displays delusional thought.

The Juvenile Court hearing presumably occurs shortly after that bedrest, as Pony is still not considered fit to testify on the murder, placing it squarely into the month of September.

It's not super clear how long the depressive episode lasts for Pony, but it's long enough that he is failing his classes and Syme is offering to bring him up to a C. Recalling my high school days, overall grades for fall semester were usually evident by like mid October, so I would give Pony 2-3 weeks, maybe a full month before Syme reaches out.

However, we also know Pony was procrastinating on his assignment, it's part of Darry's nagging iirc, so that + the theme being a final project for the semester, it was probably due mid-late November/maaaayyybe early December.

This is where ages come in bc some of the ages we have from the TV Show Bible don't align with the story's events happening in August.

However.

We know that we are reading Ponyboy's theme. It ends cyclical to the beginning, and there's also evident effort on Ponyboy's end to avoid writing profanity into his recollection. He's 14, been to Hell and back, and also procrastinated on his essay. That is to say, I'd believe it if the argument was made that for some of the surviving characters, he just mentioned how old they were at the time of writing.

Side note, too, that the musical does corroborate the main events happening in late August imo, as it explicitly ties the Curtis Parents' deaths to Darry's birthday; Darry was born January 5, and they died 8 months before the story took place; 8 months from January is obviously September, technically. However. Looking at the calendar year for 1967 (the musical is bumped up 2 years), Darry's birthday fell on the first Thursday of January. If Pony's birthday is July 22nd and it's been a month (not confirmed in the musical to have been a month, but confirmed that he would be 15 next July), the Friday Night Drive-In encounter would have been August 25 (literally the first week of school), 7 months and 3 weeks after the crash; technically not 8 months, but extremely close. If we want to push it closer and move the events a week later, then the drive in would have happened September 1.

In conclusion, my proposed book timeline, cross-referenced with calendars and given school start dates:

Tuesday, January 5, 1965—Darry's Birthday, potentially also the death of Curtis Parents

Thursday, July 22, 1965—Ponyboy's 14th birthday

Thursday, August 26, 1965—Pony gets jumped

Friday, August 27, 1965—Pony goes to the drive-in, Johnny kills Bob (technically this happens in the wee hours of Saturday, but the jumping that led to it was a consequence of the drive in so I'm lumping them)

Saturday, August 28-Wednesday, September 1, 1965— (technically the actual time of Bob's murder) + Windrixville hideout + fire + Hospital reunion

Thursday, September 2, 1965—Rumble + Johnny's death + Dally's Death + Pony's concussion

Friday, September 3-Sunday, September 5, 1965—Pony in feverish delirium

Monday, September 6-Sunday, September 12, 1965—Pony on Bedrest

Monday, September 13, 1965—Juvenile Court

Tuesday, September 14, 1965-Depressive fugue begins

Monday, October 11 or 18, 1965—Mr Syme alerts Ponyboy of his failing grade+presents semester's final project in the form of a personal theme.

Mid November, 1965—theme is written

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #and while hinton isnt in charge of the adaptations we know she was involved with the movie and has interacted with the musical cast #so she probably approves of the timing benchmarks given therein

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narcjsistx · 2 months ago

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𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part ten

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 1.9k (1967)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part eleven! I also realized that maybe I write shorter chapters better, so abandon the 2.5/3k word chapters

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

Since the parade had taken place you had completely returned to the path you were on, as if the hatred that so many had directed at you had dematerialized: on the one hand you appreciated this thing, but on the other it still made you so angry when you remembered how they had treated you. Many agencies, both German and foreign, had asked you to collaborate, but you had decided that for the moment you would only stay with TraumLaufsteg, which still had many answers to give you; you still wanted to understand what kind of relationship there was between Ursula and Gabriel, and how he was one of the founders. These were questions that tormented you at night, but for some time now you have been spending them more peacefully in Kaiser's arms, where you felt good

The media had begun to suspect the alleged relationship between you and the German prodigy, but beyond speculation there was obviously nothing confirmed. You and Michael were careful to keep things low profile, as complicated as it was for both of you. No one had yet understood that you had moved back in with him, and no one should have understood that now hugs weren't the only thing you exchanged

Michael had been on tour in the Berlin border areas for a week now, and for convenience he didn't come home, as much as he wanted to. You missed him, but he would be back in less than a few days, so you were happy. Life with Kaiser was going great, and that made you fall in love with him even more. The only problem was that Gabriel had suddenly started managing the company's models, including you: this meant being in contact with him more than necessary, and as much as I didn't want to, it was work

"Okay, one last time, whole runway" says the man sitting in his comfortable chair, while you and the other seven models return to the starting position. You had been doing the exact same thing since this morning only with different clothes, and if it hadn't been for the presence of your ex you would surely have been happier. You take a deep breath, taking the first position as the top model. You start walking, gaze fixed and movements flowing, swinging the wide skirt you had to wear as a test. You walk the entire length, reaching the tip where you put a hand on your hip, looking at the imaginary audience and then walking back, always with the same grace. The other models repeat the gesture taking their time, but you always feel Gabriel's gaze on you

He always looks at you, as if it were something that would make him breathe. Even when the attention should be on the other models, his gaze doesn't move from your figure, and you can't do much more than glare at him. Since he started working with you again, he has this toxic habit, which always makes you feel bad even though you haven't done anything. It gets worse when Ursula is with him, who occasionally attends the rehearsals next to the man: it makes you laugh a little how she tries to get his attention, failing miserably... and yet on the day of the show they seemed like best friends. Ursula doesn't talk much with her models, much less with you, so you don't know much about this woman who, in your opinion, knows a lot about you

"Okay ladies. Monica, more movement, you're modeling, not going shopping... and Iseut, more expressions, you have a cute face, use it. Also for our top model..." says the man, waking you up from your thoughts and noticing that everyone has modeled "Nothing to say, we all know she's a professional" he says giggling slightly, and while the others nod you want to do nothing more than go to him and strangle him. You hate his behavior, you hate everything about him and how he tries to flatter you every time. You'd be tempted to intentionally screw up everything to see his reaction, but at the same time it's not like you to ruin your always impeccable work for someone like that, unworthy of so much fame

You are about to leave the room to go to your dressing room and finally call your boyfriend, when you hear the doors of the rehearsal room open, and two video cameras enter followed by Ursula herself. You are surprised by this, because from what you knew from the other models in the agency access to the video cameras is prohibited

The cameras are roaming around the room, as you and the other models stare at them. You hear someone muttering something confused about this, and you don't know how to react even though you've been used to being in the spotlight for years now. You don't know why, but it stinks

Ursula stands next to Gabriel, and from the knowing smile they exchange you understand that the bomb you were waiting for is probably about to explode right now. The stylist's snake-like gaze looks you over, and a cold shiver runs down your spine as you watch the cameras finally settle in front of the two buddies, who are now scenographically side by side. You need to leave now, because the situation is feeling stranger by the second, and you don't like

"Welcome to the agency! Gabriel and I are very honored to be able to give you the opportunity to document life in the TraumLaufsteg, which for a long time has not given such a chance to anyone. Feel free to ask me and our models anything you have in mind" says Ursula in front of the first camera, while Gabriel nods "You have entered at the end of the shift of the models who will participate in the next fashion show, I was just taking care of that" he says charismatically, and the woman nods. One of the two video cameras is put down, while the man holding it comes in front of the screen, probably taking the place of the interviewer "Could you tell us more about the next show?" says the man "You can ask our models, they are ready to answer" says Gabriel, and the object moves towards you, catching you off guard. You and all the others know how to handle the situation, it is a quality that you have to acquire if you do this job, but it is still strange

The interviewer approaches, taking the girl at your side "Could you tell me how a normal shift goes?" he asks, and the woman shows off her best smile while improvising some cool answers, but in truth you don't listen to. Gabriel's oppressive gaze, now a few meters away from you, continues to stare at you with an almost maniacal smile, the same one that Ursula gives you. You gulp down a lump of saliva as you fix your hair, trying to ignore the situation. "How does it feel to walk with an internationally famous model?" the interviewer suddenly asks, and the woman remains silent for a few seconds, honestly not knowing how to respond. They all know who the man is referring to, and you can't help but smile at the camera filming you, one that actually hides a bit of anxiety and perplexity underneath

The woman remains silent, smiling nervously. The interviewer now turns to you, the microphone pointed at your mouth. “This would be the first interview you’ve had since the break” he says, and you nod. “It would have come sooner or later. You’ve obviously had more luck than the others” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as usual. The man nods “You’re probably right. How does it feel to be back on the catwalk?” he asks “Oh, it feels great. I’ve missed doing the usual things, and going back to the catwalk was like getting some fresh air after keeping my face under water for too long” you say. The microphone shakes a bit "And why choose an agency right here in Germany? And then, such a small one" he says, and you understand why Gabriel was smiling before. You suspect that they are ready-made questions, that they are aimed at putting you in difficulty and make you look like an idiot

"Well, I moved to Germany a while ago, and starting again with an Italian agency would have been uncomfortable because of the country difference. I chose TraumLaufsteg because I saw potential, and I would say I made the right choice when I see the results of the last show" you say, using all the trump cards you can give. It's a smooth answer, but it doesn't reveal anything wrong, or at least that's what you think

"How coincidental, however, to choose TraumLaufsteg, which is precisely the agency where Gabriel is the founder. Is there something in between this choice? After all, there has been a lot of chaos between your boyfriend and you in the last few weeks" says the man, and finally you understand that it is all a trap from the beginning, designed only to advance the main topic, that is, you and Gabriel. You see an immense satisfaction in the man, and you can't help but want to kill him

"There is absolutely no correlation between my choice and the situation you are talking about, since my ex and I are no longer together. I saw potential in the TraumLaufsteg without asking myself too many questions about who the founders were" you say in a serious tone, one that has the aim of not letting anything but your disgust transpire. The interviewer looks surprised, as does Gabriel who leaves Ursula's side, taking steps towards you. You watch him approach, feeling yourself suffocated with each step that brings you closer. He comes to your side, making his way through the models, putting his arm around your waist. Your eyes widen, moving to step aside, but his firm grip doesn't let you move. He smiles at the camera, as if nothing's wrong. If he wants to play like a jerk he's doing it perfectly

"My Y/n is just kidding, we all know in the industry how her humor can almost seem truthful. I don't know what's going on in her head, I just know that we are definitely not exes" he says playfully in front of the camera, which frames the two of you while you are doing everything you can to keep him away. You look at him disgusted, like you have never looked at anyone before. He wants to change the story every time to suit his own convenience, first calling you a traitor and now again calling you his girlfriend

It only takes a second for you to feel his lips crush yours. Your blood runs cold as you feel the sickening sensation you had forgotten and that had comforted you for so many years. He lingers on your lips, feeling them as he always has. You move to pull away, but it's no use because of his firm grip. You would like to cry, slap him, push him as far away from you as possible, but you can't do anything but remain perplexed by the gesture, appearing in front of the camera like a dead person. Now that you've gotten used to only Kaiser's lips, why do you feel those who have only spoken badly of you?

"See? Couple as always" says Gabriel, joking with the interviewer. You watch it disgusted, and everyone on television could tell that you were clearly not comfortable. Because yes, unbeknownst to you this was live nationally

And a certain blond German soccer player was watching the scene in his cold hotel room

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

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