#terry's scarf

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The New S2 Poster Details

Terry's hat and scarf ❤ With an ook pin! ❤

Crowley's old glasses on the statue. The statue itself is the Marly Horses by Guillaume Coustou the Elder.

Aziraphale's bow tie on the floor 👀

The cardboard box - long ago Neil shared on his instagram: Game on! There are mysteries, histories, secrets revealed and Something Too Terrible To Be Revealed on the way. Also a cardboard box.

Three feathers. One white, one blac and one white with a bluish/grey tinge (if it's not a shaddow)?

The angel mug is back 🥰

'The Resurrectionist' matches with skull and crossbones. In the previous poster there was a The Resurrectionist leaflet.

Again the Eccles cakes (already were in the previous poster)

Feather duster with dark gray/black feathers

On this shelf there books also in the previous poster, but at different place 🤔: The Crow Road, Catch-22.

And: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon, from wikj: mystery novel by nritish writer Mark Haddon. Its title refers to an observation by the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes in the 1892 short story The Adventure of Silver Blaze

And: No Woman No Cry: My Life with Bob Marley by Rita Marley a memoir of Bob Marley by wife, Rita.

Also heard the people say that the right one of the Catch-22 they see Gabriel García Márquez on the spine (I can't read it :)).

Lord Jim and Treasure Island have also been identified in the previous poster but now are in a different place 🤔👀.

Three books by Jane Austen: Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice and Emma. We have already seen Pride and Prejudice in the previous poster but it was a different edition so Aziraphale has more than one :).

Candy?

Again geckos! :) 🦎 (there were three in the previous poster)

The Buddy Holly Everyday was also in a different place in the previous poster. And there is a note on it

The Ressurectionist, 66. Goat Gate, Edinburgh 👀.

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #s2 posters #posters #fun fact #jane austen #pride and prejudice #emma #persuasion #No Woman No Cry: My Life with Bob Marley #rita marley #The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time #Mark Haddon #The Resurrectionist #cardboard box #terry's hat #terry's scarf #crowley's glasses #aziraphale's bow tie #s2 poster details #goat gate #edinburgh

[andromeda3116]

one thing that i've noticed and begun to seriously appreciate upon rereading the watch novels is --

sam and sybil are not in love when they get married.

they like each other, but they aren't in love. and i think this is why sybil seems to be kind of in the background of men at arms and feet of clay, like, sure, she's his wife and he appreciates her and cares for her but he doesn't love her -- yet.

and i think it's the knitting moment at the end of jingo when it happens to him. like that john green quote about how you fall in love slowly and then all at once? i think the moment when he comes home and she's been trying to knit him socks but she's no good at knitting and so it ends up being a scarf instead of socks -- i think that's the "all at once".

and then after jingo, suddenly sybil matters more to him, appears more in his thoughts, he's so proud of her in the fifth elephant for everything she does (she is such a badass in the fifth elephant), and it's the cigar case she gave him that is what he longs for amd desperately needs to hold onto in night watch, the memory of her. she's much more important to him and his perspective in the later watch books, and yes the doylist interpretation is that sir terry developed the relationship more as he grew as a writer because he didn't feel like he was very good at writing romance, but i like the watsonian interpretation --

that sam vimes was not in love with sybil ramkin when he married her, but instead fell madly in love with her along the way.

#discworld #gnu terry pratchett #sam vimes #sybil vimes nee ramkin #sam/sybil #i love this relationship so much #i mean. he wears the scarf proudly. no shame or bashfulness about it the way he used to be cringey at her displays of affection #and after that he wears the socks she makes for him even though she's still not very good at making them #because he loves her and she made these socks for him #it's just very sweet #i love them your honor

[kateksmallcuteowl]

Part 4/6 to About Dogs by @asongaboutpirates ! Hope you like it:)

#vetvimes #havelock is freezing #just look at him #but he’s got Vimses scarf! #discworld #havelock vetinari #fanart #lord vetinari #vimes x vetinari #terry pratchett #sam vimes #gnu terry pratchett #old man yaoi #illustration

[vellichorius]

finding out that the hat in the bookshop is not, in fact, Crowley's hat in 1941, but Sir Terry Pratchett's old hat, which has a pin referencing his Discworld books....

i don't know. i was wild with the idea that Aziraphale kept Crowley's hat, but knowing that Sir Terry is, somewhat, in the bookshop. it feels more precious than i could imagine. it's so wholesome and it's just so real.

i was really happy when i found out about Sir Terry's hat and scarf.

#good omens #terry pratchet #sir terry pratchett #i just got the script book #and in the introduction i read about the hat and scarf #and just #wholesome

[pourablecat]

Not quite babies, but extremely young Oggs and Weatherwaxes!

#discworld #discworld fanart #gnu terry pratchett #gytha ogg #esmerelda weatherwax #you see the esmerelda always trips me up #I thought it was esmeralda with an a #in which esme's knowledge of her bestie's private life is broadened #quite against her will #there is such a thing as TMI #I feel Granny is someone born to be old #aka out of her element as a youngster #just like Tiffany #sharing a scarf!!! #by the way!!!

[cosmicrhetoric]

vetvimes is only real when its funny like most of the time their weird charged relationship is just what happens when two complete freaks are acting as the State and the Watch but then vetinari says that handcuff thing at the end of jingo and. well theres really no getting around that one

#like all the vetinaris terrier stuff im like oh right this is Commentary and then he says the handcuff thing and makes it weird IMMEDIATELY #or when he tries to get vimes to leave his wife and newborn son alone for a bit so they cacan debrief #discworld #fun game is figuring out when theyre being normal (for them) or when things stray into vetvimes territory #gnu terry pratchett #not sure where the vetinari feet of clay intentionally poisoning himself so vimes can figure it out thing falls actually #i havent read a watch book in a while but its may so i gotta. it might be feet of clay and not night watch tho #oh oh or when he complimented the scarf sybil made him like he Knew #vetvimes #havelock vetinari #sam vimes

[waifuarts]

I've been re-reading all the Discworld books, and seeing all the little references to Terry Pratchett and his works in the second season of Good Omens has been absolutely delightful

#the seamstress bit had me CACKLING #Pratchett's hat and scarf in Aziraphale's bookshop made me tear up a lil #GNU Terry Pratchett

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr. Gaiman,

hope you are having a nice evening :) I'm sorry to bother you with this silly little question (hope no one asked before).

In episode 1 season 2 of Good Omens, a black hat is seen on the clothes hanger in Aziraphale's library. And it looks like the hat Crowley wore in 1941. Is it actually his hat?

Thank you very much for the answer. Love your books and the show❤️❤️

No, it's Terry Pratchett's hat (and scarf).

[ineffableandco]

A recap of the panel with Rob Wilkins at The Ineffable Con 4

- About the ending of S2/the kiss: he says that the scene blew his mind. It was not David & Michael but Crowley & Aziraphale. Everyone knew it was one of the most important scenes. There were 3-4 takes but the one we see is the only one that exists. He found the haunting look on Aziraphale’s face really emotional. He also said that he wasn’t prepared for the fandom’s reaction but finds it brilliant. He also said that Aziraphale’s expression meant “do it again”.

- His favourite side characters are Bildad, Mrs. Sandwich, Eric and the Dowlings.

- He was really excited to have David, Peter Davison and Ty on set. He wished he could have had a selfie with all of them.

- He says that Good Omens really is like a family.

- He loves the love and dedication fans show to Good Omens. He’s amazed by people who get tattoos.

- His favourite easter egg is the presence of Terry’s hat and scarf. Also, the copy of Good Omens that Jim is reading from is Rob’s copy.

- About red herrings: there are things in S2 that might become more or not if S3 happens. Rob also said that there are things in S2 we haven’t noticed yet.

- His favourite thing about Crowley and Aziraphale is the fact that they’re a unit.

- He genuinely doesn’t know anything about S3 happening or not but he’s hopeful because the sets are still there in Bathgate.

- He has a record of “Everyday” signed by David Tennant and Michael Sheen.

- He loves Jim and how Jon Hamm just went with it when playing him.

- He bought the S2 Bentley because if they were going to get new a Bentley, it was going to be him buying it

- He showed the license plate which he had right there

@neil-gaiman @theineffablecon

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #rob wilkins #the ineffable con #david tennant #michael sheen #crowley #aziraphale #it’s ineffable angel

[frosnpls]

good morning its 8am and im sobbing about how terry pratchetts hat and scarf are hung up in aziraphales shop "just in case he ever comes back to get them" and the fact that the hat and scarf had a reserved seat and a bag of popcorn at the premiere and the fact that neil and terry were going to be in the background of the sushi scene but when terry passed neil didnt feel right being in it alone so he just didnt and the fact that they put references to terry in as many places as possible in the show and th

#AUUUUUUGH THERE IS LOVE IN THE WORLD THAT DEATH CANNOT REPLACE!!!!!!!! #AND IT MAKES ME SO FUCKING SAD #good omens #go #words.jpg

[gingiekittycat]

I miss the narrator

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I miss the narrator from Good Omens season 1.

I will admit, when I first watched the show it threw me a bit. Sure, the narrator's jokes were funny, but I thought that as a story-telling device it was distracting. There was just so much of it all the time, and it often felt out of place. And when I went to look up reviews online, it seemed a lot of people agreed: if there ever was a season 2, the narrator had to go.

But THEN.

THEN.

Then I read the book.

And I realized: the narrator is the footnotes. It's the little jokes in between the plot. In descriptions, in metaphors, in transitions. The narrator is what makes the magic of the novel.

The narrator is the authors.

More specifically, the narrator is Terry.

Terry's influence on the novel, on the story; Terry's influence in the way he and Neil wrote the book. Neil has said before somewhere (I will find the source eventually and add it) that he was writing in Terry's style when he co-wrote the novel. And it shows; to me, when I read Good Omens, I was reading a Terry Pratchett novel. At the time, I had no previous experience with reading Terry's work, and the only novel I'd read of Neil's was American Gods. And in my opinion, Good Omens reads nothing like American Gods.

In subsequently reading more of Terry's work, it became even clearer to me that the narrator in the show was Neil's way of keeping Terry in the story. And maybe it WAS clunky in a visual medium, maybe it WAS distracting, jarring. But it was also hilarious, and whimsical, and playful, and fun. And I don't see how Neil could have done without it and still stayed so true to the novel. The jokes, the metaphors, the descriptions, the footnotes; this is what makes Good Omens what it is.

There was no narrator in season 2.

I will say up front that, overall, I enjoyed season 2. It had so many funny moments, and so many thought-provoking, poignant moments too. It used some dialog from the first book (looking at you Resurrectionists minisode) to remind us why Good Omens is not just a romp between an angel and demon, but also a philosophical, thought-provoking piece of media. It had a lot of Pratchett-esque moments; the Job minisode stood out to me here. The end was, of course, emotional and gutting, but I like emotional and gutting (anyone who has read my fics knows this). But... I found myself missing the narrator. 

I missed Terry.

And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was even on purpose. Maybe the lack of narrator really is illustrating the fact that, when Terry died, he left a hole in the world that can never be filled. You can't make the same show you would have made had Terry been alive. You can't even try. You can make your own thing, you can make it amazing in its own right, but you can't make it the same. And, all said and done, I think that's a very important commentary on grief. When you lose something, or someone, you're not the same as you were before; and it hurts, but you change, you adapt, you grow. Eventually, you make something new.

So... do I want there to be a narrator in season 3?

That's a good question. I think I would accept both outcomes. However, knowing that season 3 is supposed to be the sequel Neil and Terry plotted, I think it would be appropriate to have a narrator this time around. True, we have no novel to base it off of; we don't have any of Terry's footnotes, his metaphors, his jokes. But we have Neil, whom Terry influenced while writing the original novel; we have Neil writing in Terry's style, putting himself in Terry's shoes for a moment (his hat, his scarf). We have Neil, who loved Terry, who has in part made this show as a labor of love, because he promised Terry he would, and he's going to keep that promise. We have Neil to remind us why we love Good Omens in the first place.

And I think having a narrator in season 3 would be a wonderful way to illustrate that. 

#By the way #If you are a fan of the show and haven't yet read the book #Please do yourself a favor and go read it immediately #Good omens #Good omens 2 #Good omens 3 #good omens 3 speculation #Neil gaiman #Terry Pratchett #Good omens narrator #My 2 cents #Good omens meta #My meta

[sugar-omi]

Ello! Could you do Mornings with Cove, Derek, and Baxter? Fem! MC, plz!

the boys are so sappy n in love w you/mc it's SICK also does anyone else have trouble keeping their bonnet/scarf on bc i don't even bother anymore, n i alrdy tried the hair pins. it worked once n then never again i sleep like a wild animal istg ANYWAY!! enjoy anon! i'm so sorry it took so long<333

tags : Fluff, fem/afab reader (use of girl, ma'am, wife), multiple choice dialogue, every scenario has different tags bc it's easier for me that way👍, newly established relationship (derek/baxter), marrying cove

[scenarios in order of cove>baxter>derek]

synopsis : how you spend your mornings with the boys

tags : step 3 / in between step 3-4, you proposed to cove at the end of summer, eloping, moving in together

you're slow to wake up, rolling over and taking all the sheets with you.

you huff and try to untangle the sheets from under body and around your leg... once you're comfortable enough you pull your dangling pillow back onto the bed.

you reach over for cove, wanting to be close to your new husband.

"cove?" you finally open your eyes and search around the room. it's empty. well, save for the boxes and the new mattress on the middle of the floor where you slept together last night.

before you can call out again you hear some clinking and the sound of a sink running.

begrudgingly, you leave your nest of blankets in search of cove. it was worthless to stay in bed if he wasn't there.

first though you should wash up a bit, moving all those boxes had you so tired and you slept good.

you creep up behind cove, you already know he's heard you, but between the sizzling of the pan and the messy playlist terry oh so graciously made for you two.

determining there's not danger of one of you getting hurt by the hot pan in the case cove flinches, you wrap your arms around cove.

"oh-!" cove tenses up, putting a hand on your arm.

he laughs when you mumble "good morning" into his back, still sleepy and you almost fall asleep with your head leaned against him. cove is so comforting...

"don't fall asleep back there, i'm almost done cooking." cove's voice rumbles through you, disrupting your nodding head.

"mhm..." you slink over to the couch. it's crooked and in the middle of the room, all but thrown haphazardly in the room by the movers.

you blink, watching the trees sway and cars zoom by.

you're not in the heart of the city, but you're certainly not out in the middle of nearly nowhere like sunset bird.

"here ya go." the plate comes into view, startling you from your daydream.

you mumble your thanks, suddenly realizing how hungry you are. the meal is simple enough and made from whatever snacks and foods you took from your parents' house that are signaturely yours, but there's toast on the side and that's all that matters.

you eat in silence, propping up your computer on some boxes and watching a video, and after you're done eating, you continue down the funny animal rabbit hole.

"this is nice." you say suddenly, whispered almost.

"hey, that's my line." cove teases and you two share lazy wolfish grins. "no~, your line is saying that i'm nice." you correct, proving your innocence.

"so i'm not nice?" cove lays out a trap and you willingly fall into it.

"you are nice, very nice." you lean in to steal a peck, to which cove takes more. when you pull away, you can't help but laugh about it, it's cute how cove always wants more affection from you.

"i'm just saying, it's nice to be with you like this." you flush, suddenly aware of how embarrassing this is to admit. "y'know, being married and living together, 'n all that stuff..." you trail off, glancing off to the side as you let cove process what you said with a flustered face.

suddenly, his arms tighten around you and you look up to see him teary eyed.

"i'm happy too!"

you laugh, reaching up to wipe his tears away. "good."

cove sniffles, his voice thick from crying but also from affection. "i really liked waking up to you today, it was.. nice."

cove's blush must have been contagious because you felt your own face get hot. "i can't say the same since you were missing, but it was nice sleeping together. and we get to do it everyday and every night."

cove laugh, looking off to the side from being embarrassed at your admissions. "sorry, i was just so happy i wanted to surprise you in bed, but you got up before i could get back."

you smile, curling your fingers in his hair. "well, we got our whole lives for that."

you could practically see the hearts popping off cove, "will you wait for me to bring you breakfast tomorrow?"

you laugh, "sure cove."

cove puffs up, happy with every second that goes by. "what do you want to eat? we can go out shopping today. i really want to try this new flavor of juice i saw a few days ago, it's strawberry something..." cove rambles and you let him go on, agreeing and adding onto the verbal list.

eventually, cove pulls out his phone to write this down and you whisper, full of tenderness. "we're being domestic again, but it's for real this time since we're living together."

cove squeaks, unable to hide his face since his hands are holding his phone tight, trying not to drop it on you. "w-we are, aren't we?" cove laugh, happy again.

"thank you for agreeing to marry me."

cove blinks at you, surprised before he laughs. "you're doing it again."

"what?!" you sit up, grinning even though you're taking up a stance. "you've said that twice, what's that supposed to mean!"

cove shrugs, leaving you hanging. he hooks his arms around your neck, eyes full of love. "as if i'd ever say no, i mean.. i never really thought about getting married, but... well, i wouldn't marry anyone else."

you blink away tears, leaning down to capture cove in a kiss.

he hums happily, letting you slide your hand up his shirt when you get lost in each others lips before you pull away.

"let's elope."

"wh-what?!" cove scrambles, forcing you to sit up but he can't go anywhere with you on top of his lap.

"elope, let's get eloped." you repeat, suddenly embarrassed.

cove coughs, "right now?!"

you nod before you back track, "i mean.. unless you don't want to! i can wait, i'm just so happy that it came out..."

it's silent for a moment, and cove is trying to get his temperature down before he explodes..

"let's do it."

you snap your neck to look at him, "huh?"

cove is flustered and sweating a bit "let's elope.." he finally looks at you instead of his hands. "i can't wait either, and i mean.. we're going to be husband and wife anyway so, why not..?"

you grin, "okay! um- i'll get ready then." you stop, realizing there's some things that should be done before hand, "oh, maybe we should call our parents?"

cove nods, giving a strained smile. "they're gonna tease us again.."

you take his hand, "thats okay. we'll suffer together." cove pushes your shoulder with his and rolls his eyes.

"yeah, you're right. we got this."

tags : (after) step 4, multiple dialogue choice for poc readers/readers w different hair length/upkeep

you stir, your dream disturbed by someone shuffling and squirming and a hand on your cheek.

slowly letting your dream go, regrettably since it was just getting interesting, and blink sleepily at the mess of black hair beside you.

you groan, turning your head to hide it in the pillow.

"why are you up? it's not even 11 yet..." you grumble, slipping baxter's phone back under the pillow. it must've ended up there somehow after you two fell asleep in the middle of your youtube binge, and until you're ready to get up it'll stay there.

"just admiring you."

you smile, peeking at him. "no way, you're jus' saying stuff."

baxter looks so tender, his hand moving from your cheek to hold your hand. "i'm serious. you're the prettiest girl in the world."

a coy, wolfish smile comes on his face, "even if-

-your hair is sticking up on one side." you fly upright, covering your hair with your hands.

-your hair is kinda sticking up." you fly upright, snatching up your bonnet/scarf that came off in the middle of the night and fixing it.

-you drool in your sleep." you jump, rubbing your mouth to wipe away the tacky spit.

you huff as baxter chuckles away, "sorry i- ack!"

you slap baxter with the pillow, throwing the sheets away and running to the bathroom to wash up. "laugh it up! you're worse than me, y'know?"

baxter finally sits up, showing you his own messy hair do. it's flat on one side. you stifle a cackle.

he gazes at you softly, sleep and love softening his features. "i'm pas' that."

you don't bother closing the bathroom door, knowing baxter is slow on your tail. "you put salt in your coffee yesterday. are ya sure about that?"

you turn on the shower, letting the water warm up while you brush your teeth.

baxter finally comes behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek.

you hum, pleased.

baxter gazes at you through the mirror, addressing you through it. "i love you."

you feel warm, your heart skipping and beating fast at the overwhelming affection from him today. "i love you too."

baxter kisses your cheek, looking up at you through his eyelashes. "so, can i join your shower?"

"only if you behave, pepe-le-pew." you pinch baxter's cheek, grinning at how he scrunches up his face.

while you get ready for the shower, making the water warm enough for the both of you.

usually you take hot showers, but last time baxter turned red so lukewarm would have to do.

usually you take cold showers, but baxter just shook in the corner of the shower before he jumped under some hot water to warm up.

you two take showers together often, this was good bonding time for you two.

"wash my hair for me?" baxter asks, sliding up behind you.

"sure." you switch spots so baxter can get his hair wet. it's a tight fit since this shower isn't meant for two, but you make it work. it was better than the bathtub anyway, that was its own problem...

baxter sits on the stool, something you finally put in since it was straining, having to bend down every time.

"don't get shampoo in my mouth again." baxter cackles, trying not to laugh as you massage the shampoo in his hair.

"that was an accident!" you defend, "and it was your fault! you wouldn't stop laughing and talking while i was washing your hair out!"

"is that so?" baxter's suave voice echos throughout the bathroom. the sound makes you shiver.

"yeah 'that's so'! you play around too much!" you laugh and mock. "now stop talking, i'm gonna wash it out."

baxter willingly shuts his mouth, letting you tip his head back and detach the shower head to wash the shampoo out.

this gives you a good view of his face. truthfully, there are not many times when baxter is quiet, witty and flirty words always coming from his mouth, and his face is always lined with a lazy lopsided smile.

so seeing him like this, with his face relaxed and his shoulders sagging as he lets you work your hands through his hair.

"you can open your eyes now." you wipe baxter's face with your hand to get the water off his face, pushing his hair back.

baxter blinks, getting used to the change of light. he takes the shower head from your hands so he can hold your hand and he smiles, coy and mischievous. "hey there, beautiful, come here often?"

you roll your eyes, ignoring the flush coming over you. "shut up."

baxter laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your stomach, watching you.

"what're you looking at?" you feel so flustered from baxter being so soft and tender this morning.

"you." baxter intertwines your fingers. "you're the prettiest girl in the world."

you crumble, leaning over him. "can't you just say 'i love you' like a normal person.."

baxter smiles his signature lopsided grin, "nope." he says, popping the 'p'.

you two sit for a moment in silence, wrapped up in each other.

"i love you too. even though you're silly." you mumble, moving to grab baxter's face.

"i think you're helping me to look silly," he tries to smile but you're squishing his cheeks. "i love you more though."

"as if." you lean down to kiss his forehead, then his nose, which if he could, there'd be a happy tail swinging behind him. before you finally meet his lips, letting him take more than you were going to give.

"okay bax," you laugh, pushing his shoulders. "enough kisses, the waters getting cold."

his loopy, lovesick grin turns wolfish, "i'll warm you up."

baxter starts to trail his hands along your hips, going from sensual to playful as he starts tickling your sides.

you squeal, holding onto his wrists. "stop it!" you squirm, laughter echoing throughout the shower..

tags : (after) step 4, clingy derek, reader can cook, Encanto movie mentioned (that movie SLAPPED), reader gives derek a massage

it would be a meriacle you woke up before derek if it wasn't already coming up to 2pm.

you don't usually get up this late, but you and Derek had been up having fun and watching the sunrise just for the hell of it, that it ended up happening.

you yawn and stretch, looking at the expanse of derek's muscled back as you consider if kts worth getting up or not.

'mm, i could make him breakfast..'

now that was an idea. finally setting that as your goal, you throw off the sheets and manage to creep out the room as quietly and as quickly as possible.

you may not be the next gordon ramsay, but you at least knew your way around the kitchen. so once scrounging up some eggs and vegetables, you set onto making an omelet.

which... is harder than it looks. and the first one isn't instgram worthy for sure. looks like you'll be taking that one...

you start humming to the music you have playing quietly, swaying from side to side in place as you expertly (at least in your opinion) shimmy the spatula under the omlete to flip it.

then, right as you give a small "aha!" at your success, a sleepy, gravelly call of your name comes from the hallway.

"y/n..? where are ya?"

you bristle, looking around the disordered kitchen panicked. "kitchen! don't come in!"

you curse, taking the pan off the stove and turning off the eye quickly as you slide into the hallway. you thank derek's sleepy movement since otherwise he would've found you out already if he wasn't ready to collapse where he stood.

he blinks, rubbing his eyes. "what's going on? you need help?"

you start pushing on his chest. "no! i can handle everything here, so just go to bed, and I'll be right there, okay?"

derek laughs, letting you push him back towards the bedroom, "i mean sure but what're you-"

"nope! no questions! just go back to bed and wait for me. if you come out before i'm ready, a punishment is in order!" you nag, crossing your arms as derek gets back into bed.

"kinky."

you huff and roll your eyes, trying not to show your amusement. being half asleep also turns off half of derek's filter..

you lean over, roughly tucking him in much to his delight. "now stay here." you kiss his head before you run off, shutting the door 3/4ths of the way before you throw it back open to glare at him.

"i mean it."

derek laughs, his eyes droopy again already. "yes ma'am."

you shut the door and skip down the hall, hurrying to fix the rest of your and derek's breakfast before the omletes get cold.

bustling around the kitchen, trying to keep things neat as you go, but the stack of dishes in the sink and fallen egg shell you quickly pick up says there was a disaster happening here.

in the end, though, you find the nicest plates derek has here and a food tray before you plate up the food with care, even cutting and peeling some fruit on the side to go with your choice of yogurt or oatmeal, before making your way to the bedroom, humming.

you're happy you got to do something nice for derek, even though it almost went up in ruins a few times. be it from derek almost walking in, the questionably shaped omelet, or almost getting orange juice in your eye when peeling.

you somehow balance the tray well enough to open the door, and before you can give a loud and playfully formal announcement that food is ready, you realize derek is asleep.

he looks so serene, arm stretched out on your side of the bed and the sunlight hitting his back nicely.

you smile, creeping up and sitting the tray down carefully. equally as careful, you ease yourself onto the bed, petting derek's hair as you debate waking him up or not.

you push his hair off his forehead. his hair feels and looks so different when it's not gelled up in his signature style, he still looks handsome like this though, maybe even more-so.

"mmm, tha' you y/n?" derek takes your hand out of his hair and into his, loosely holding your hand.

"yeah. i made you breakfast but if you're too tired we can eat later." you kiss his hand.

derek hums, a dopey smile coming on his face. "i could eat." derek sits up, stretching with a groan and slumping against the pillows, trying to wake himself up.

you present the tray, popping the legs and situation it between you two so you can eat as well.

"oh that's so sad, he just wants to eat with his family.." you fret, absent-mindedly playing with derek's hair.

derek hums, mumbling something.

you look down at him, thinking derek looks like an sleepy pup that thinks he's still a lap dog. derek is much bigger than when you guys were kids, something you still can't get used to some days.

"you falling asleep?" you push his hair back, showing derek's droopy eyes.

he squirms, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. "no.." derek yawns, burying his face into your stomach.

you laugh, tugging on little strands of derek's hair, that elicit a low, gravelly hum from him.

"okay, tell me if you want anything." you lean down, trying to kiss derek but the position just strains your neck and back.

derek looks up, peaking at you and smiling when he sees your pouty lips. he leans up, holding the back of your head as he gives you a few soft kisses that he can't help but smile through.

you smile back at him. "lay down with me.." derek purrs, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"i'm trying to watch the movie!" you laugh, derek already pulling you down the bed so you can lay with him.

"and you can watch it from my arms." derek snuggles into your neck, kissing the back of your neck which makes you shiver and laugh.

at some point near the end of the movie you ended up falling asleep, much to your disappointment.

you smack your lips, "dang it..." you fumble for the remote in the sheets, finding it at the end of the bed, only saved by the foot board.

while you start rewinding the movie, derek walks back in.

you perk up, scooting towards the edge of the bed. "derek!" your voice is thick with sleep and your head feels cloudy still from dreamland but seeing derek makes you feel a bit excited.

"you're awake." derek comes to your side, rubbing the towel over his head. you hum, "did you fall asleep too?" you prop yourself on your knees to help derek dry off, "i slept through the ending..." you pout.

derek laughs, "we can watch it together. do you think we can start over? i wasn't paying attention earlier..." derek admits sheepishly.

you nod, then realize derek probably didn't see you before he turned around so you said yes.

while derek looks for clothes you respond to lee's spam texts about something or other.

you're in the middle of typing out another response to respond to your cousins fangirling when derek groans and sighs.

derek slumps over, rubbing his neck.

"you okay, baby?"

derek startles a bit, turning to look at you sheepishly. "yeah, i'm fine."

you roll your eyes and send a quick "brb" text before throwing the phone somewhere on the bed. "no you're not. are you stiff? sore?"

derek comes closer to you, kneeling on the rug so he can hug your waist. "a bit.. guess i've been going to hard on arm day." you both laugh.

"yeah, i don't think those guns need to het any bigger." you laugh, curling your fingers in his hair. "oh! how about i give you a massage?"

derek looks at you with wide eyes, "you can do that?"

you shrug. "i'm not a professional, but it might help. do you want me to?" derek nods, a bit too enthusiastic, which makes him blush and clear his throat. "if you don't mind.."

you shake your head and push derek's shoulders so you can stand up, "not at all, wait here.."

it takes a moment to find the lotion, a con of having moved into a new place: everything is in an odd place.

you don't keep any oil or anything like that that would be more appropriate, so this would have to do.

derek is a bit awkward at first, but once you put on some music for yourself so you can focus, derek starts watching the animal tiktok's your friends were spamming in the group chat, occasionally apologizing for his laughter making your body bounce.

you're happy and share a few laughs and idle conversations between the two of you. you don't really know what you're doing, and mostly following a few tips from online.

derek sighs, sinking into the mattress. "that's good..."

your hands smooth over his back, spreading the lotion down to the small of his back and kneading a bit.

satisfied now that derek looks relaxed and you've done the best you can to make your lover feel better, you lean over to kiss the back of his neck. "there you go, baby."

derek hums, and you move around to lay beside him. "thank you. i feel so much better." derek nuzzles into your neck, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in.

you laugh at derek's clinginess, wrapping your arms around his back as well. "i'm glad, i wasn't really sure what i was doing."

derek starts peppering kisses all over your face, both of you smiling and laughing.

eventually, derek pulls away, having flipped you over and is gazing down at you, his eyes full of love and are a bit glassy. "thanks for taking care of me today. you're amazing..."

you reach up to cup his cheeks, "you're worth it, you need to be taken care of."

derek laughs, tears gathering on his lashes. he tucks his face into your neck, completely wrapping his body around your own. "i love you so much."

you brighten, surprised but happy with derek's declaration. that's the first time either of you have said the L-word.

"i love you too, derek."

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x mc #cove x reader #baxter ward #our life baxter #baxter ward x reader #baxter x reader #baxter ward x mc #cove holden fluff #cove holden x mc #baxter ward fluff #derek suarez x mc #derek suarez x reader #our life derek #derek suarez #derek suarez fluff #our life derek suarez #baxter our life #our life baxter ward #our life cove holden #our life cove #cove our life #cove holden x reader fluff #fluff #black reader

[lost-tardis-room]

see that black hat on the hatstand in the bookshop?

that's gotta be crowley's hat, like you know aziraphale's not wearing a hat like that, and it looks a lot like the the one he was wearing in the 1941 scene.

Crowley spends enough time in the bookshop that he can just leave some of his stuff there, like while he's not living there he clearly spends A Lot of his time in the bookshop, and is comfortable enough with that to just. leave his stuff around. same with ptting his glasses in the little statuette - his things have a place in the space they both get plenty of use out of

EDIT: a few people now have said that this is Terry Pratchetts' hat and scarf! thank you to those people, i didn't even realise hehe. i'm still gonna stick with my theory that in show they're Crowley's, but it's a nice little reference to Terry Pratchett there :D

#ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable idiots #good omens #good omens 2 #air conditioning #aziracrow #i spent so long looking for the exact shot with the hat in it i just HAD to find it #anyways

[telekinetictrait]

"I was pretending that I did not speak their language; on the moon we spoke a soft, liquid tongue, and sang in the starlight, looking down on the dead dried world." (We Have Always Lived In The Castle – Shirley Jackson, 1962)

the 1960s were also known as the swingin' sixties, and that name could not be more appropriate. while some other decades had moved towards comfort, the 1960's truly embraced it. some of the youth simply threw on a tunic and stepped into some pants and walked out the door! the popularity of television broadcasted different styles and trends across the country and the world. new materials like acrylics and polyesters were cheap to produce and to buy, and made fashion more accessible than it ever had been. the swingin' sixties brought the youth miniskirts, striped sweaters, the boxy "mod" look, and the bright, fun makeup associated with famous artists like twiggy. some older women tended towards the skirt + suit jacket combination worn by first lady jackie kennedy, but the comfort of the youth was appealing to all ages. beatnik fashion was also popular, with trim black trousers and dark sweaters. in 1964, hairspray was the most popular beauty product on the market – and it showed in the elaborate updos of the era. as the decade drew to a close, the "hippie" style was a popular look among the youth, with loose fitting tops and baggy pants, as well as maxi skirts. many of the hippies incorporated crafts into their fashion, with patchwork and beadings becoming popular.

this is only a very brief summary – the trends and influences of the 1960s are vast and complex, just as the 1960s themselves were. the social revolutions mirrored the revolutions in fashion, and i could write essays about it. but i am tired and i moved in today.

1800’s / 1900-1909 / 1910-1919 / 1920-1929 / 1930-1939 / 1940-1949 / 1950-1959

cc links under the cut!!

see my resources page for genetics

rachel : birksche's pam hair / fuckyeahunbichobolita's valentines dress / laundry day socks / renorasims' not so flat flats

remington : cats and dogs hair / dissia's retro fur coat accessory (tsr download) / get famous outfit / discover university socks / linzlu's 1960's shoes (download here)

rhiannon : buzzardly28's linda hair / needleworkreve's 1960s eyeshadow / gilded-ghosts' simply sweet dress / blueraptorsden’s vintage stockings / paranormal shoes

river : jools-simming's deborah beret / simadelics' curtain call hair / cottage living sweater / linzlu's 1960's pants (download here) / base game stockings / get together loafers

rjúpa : historysims4's 1960's coiffure / needleworkreve's 1960s eyeshadow / nords' retro reboot 60's hoop earrings (tsr downloads) / dzifasims' daisy dress / base game stockings / linzlu's 1960's shoes (download here)

roxanne : simduction's karen hair (updated by cyclopfrog) / fukkiemon's star pin / georgiapeachsims' mod madness makeup / get together outfit / base game bracelets / renorasims' leather wedge boots

ruslana : ravensim's terri hair / needleworkreve's 1960s eyeshadow / cottage living earrings / happylifesims' short one piece with scarf / get famous socks / serenity-cc's back to the sixties shoes

r'veena : kismet-sims' rosemary hair / needleworkreve's 1960s eyeshadow / get famous earrings / mysteriousoo's bright pants + tunic set (tsr download) / jius-sims' flower mary jane pumps

ryan : simduction's twiggy hair (updated by cyclopfrog) / needleworkreve's 1960s eyeshadow / liliili-sims' earrings #19 / marsmerizing-sims' lesley sweater / linzlu's 1960's skirt (download here) / base game stockings / cottage living lace-up heels

rzenia : marsosims' hita hair / brianitesims' nicks sunglasses / paranormal top / huiernxoxo's roxy pants / jius-sims' retro flower boots

thank you to @birksche @fuckyeahunbichobolita @renorasims @dissiasims @linzlu @buzzardly28 @needleworkreve @gilded-ghosts @blueraptorsden @jools-simming @simadelics @historysims4 @nords-sims @dzifasims @simduction @fukkiemon @georgiapeachsims @ravensim @happylifesimsreblogs @serenity-cc @kismet-sims @jius-sims @marsmerizing-sims @marsosims and @huiernxoxo !!

#my sims #sims 4 lookbook #ts4 lookbook #ts4lookbook #sims 4 retro lookbook #ts4 retro lookbook #sims 4 1960s lookbook #ts4 1960s lookbook #223 years #historical #1960s

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

---

It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he had still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

“Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

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[crowleys-aziraphale]

Sir Terence David John Pratchett, known to all of us as Sir Terry Pratchett. Was an english author, humorist, satirist and novelist. Best known for his work such as good omens, Discworld, night watch and many more. Sir Terry Pratchett was the UK's best- selling author of the 90s.

The good omens series was Sir Terry Pratchett's dying wish to Neil gaiman, he wrote Neil a letter, in the letter he told Neil to make the tv adaptation of good omens. Unfortunately he passed away before he ever got a chance to see it. He will always be part of the good omens series, his hat and scarf is in the show, and so is his spirit.

"If you trust in yourself... and believe in your dreams... and follow your star... you’ll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren’t so lazy"

@neil-gaiman

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