#for the longest time sun straight up didn’t like Freddy

[ohno-the-sun]

Ha finally the next part of this!

All the context and stuff can be found here

To be continued…

Designs and concept by Oobbear

[lost-in-fanfic]

The Woman - Thomas Shelby x reader (Part 4)

A/N: Here is Part 4, I hope you enjoy. I just want to say thank you for the kind messages, comments and the likes i have received for the series so far. They mean so much. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. Not my Gif and please don’t post my work on other websites. 

Warnings: Strong Violence and swearing

A brief summary: Y/N is heading home to London and is doing her best to put Birmingham and Tommy out of her mind. Tommy on the other hand is determined to track her down.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Word Count:  1939

Tommy leaned against the wall of the warehouse, casually smoking, staring coldly at the two Ricci brothers sat in front of him.  The Ricci’s were small time criminals compared to the notoriety of the Peaky Blinder’s and when they had realised that Tommy would be out for revenge for trying have him killed, they had been quick to try and flee. Not quick enough though, a couple of Peaky boys had brought them to an empty warehouse where the Shelby brothers had been waiting. The two men were already bloody from the punches they had taken on the way here, but they both did their best to hold their nerve under the three pairs of dangerous eyes looking at them.

“You cowardly fuckers put out a hit on my brother.” Arthur said, his voice dripping with menace. He slowly circled the Ricci’s, like a lion evaluating its pray, waiting for Tommy to give him the order to pounce. “Don’t even have the balls to try and take us on yourselves.” John spat in the face of the younger of the two, although both men were considerably older than he was. “Maybe we should take off what balls they have got? Clearly don’t know how to use them.” Arthur moved in front of the older brother, holding his cap in his hand, bending the peak of it back to show of the razor blades sewn inside. “Bastardo!” the man shouted. In less time than it takes to blink Arthurs fist smashed into the side of his head knocking him off the chair on to the floor. He covered his head as Arthur kicked him repeatedly. “Who. Said. You. Could. Fucking. Speak!” He shouted between kicks. John had started punching the younger brother, who had tried to make a move when Arthur had thrown the first punch. Tommy dropped his cigarette, stepping on it to put it out, he slowly walked over to his brothers who were mercilessly beating the men in front of them. “That’s enough.” Tommy’s voice was deep and calm, despite the scene in front of him, instantly halting his brother’s onslaught.

The older of the men simply laid on the floor moaning quietly, his brother pushed himself up and spat out a mouthful of blood which landed straight on John’s shoes. Tommy’s hand grabbed John’s arm as he moved forward, questions needed to be answered, meaning one of the Ricci’s had to still be able to speak. “Now, tell me” Tommy began, taking one of the chairs and sitting in front of the man knelt before him. “how did you contact the person you hired to kill me?” Tommy was leaning into the mans face. “Why should I tell you anything?” Ricci asked, “will you just let us go if I tell you?” Arthur let out a cold laugh, John smiled while chewing on a toothpick and Tommy leaned even closer. “You tried to have me killed Mr Ricci, if I let you go what sort of example would that set?” Tommy’s voice was so steady and relaxed he could easily have been discussing a small business deal, not the fates of the two men in front of him. “But I’ll tell you what, you tell me what I want to know, and Arthur and John here won’t go to pay your family a visit.” Leaning back in his chair Tommy took out his pocket watch and examined it, before letting his eyes lift to meet the wide eyed, panicked man before him. “They will be about halfway to the house you sent them to now wont they. You see Mr Ricci, the taxi driver is on our payroll, so I know the exact address they will be staying at.” Tommy couldn’t help but relish in the look of realisation dawning over Ricci’s face, it was the look of a man who knew he had been cornered and had no way out.

“Fine. There is an address in London, you tie a red ribbon around the metal railings there. You must write your name on it, with the address of where you are staying, then you will be contacted.” Mr Ricci’s eyes were down to the floor in defeat, his brother was still whimpering on the floor next to him, but he could feel the icy daggers of Tommy Shelby’s eyes piercing his flesh. Tommy held out a piece of paper and a pen, “Write it down.” He ordered, watching as the address was noted and the paper handed back to him. “Good.” Tommy said simply, standing up and putting the paper carefully in his pocket, he waved his hand and in a flash Arthur and John brought down their caps and took the eyes of both Ricci brothers. Turning and walking out he barely registered the dying cry’s behind him, to wrapped up in the excitement of being one step closer to Y/N.

Tommy inhaled on his cigarette, a victorious smile played across his lips, it was remarkably bright compared to the dingy warehouse.  He stood their basking in the afternoon sun and in his triumph as Arthur and John came out to join him. “Get rid of ‘em.” Arthur said to the two Blinders who had been waiting on orders. “What next Tom?” John asked, his blood pumping with adrenaline and excitement. Tommy looked at his brothers, seeing the love they had for this life dancing in their wild eyes. “I’m going to London. Alone.” He added quickly as Arthur went to speak. “I’ll drive down from here and stay with Ada and Freddie tonight, they aren’t far from this address.” Tommy patted the pocket where he had safely stored the paper. “Ring Ada for me John, let her know I’m coming, and ask her to go out and buy me a bit of red ribbon.” Tommy flicked the ash from his cigarette and began to walk away. “What about me Tom?” Arthur called after him. “Do whatever you want Arthur.” Tommy called back over his shoulder, he was too excited to stop, he hadn’t felt this exhilarated in what felt to him like a lifetime.

Y/N looked out of the train window at the passing countryside, she was now far from the dirt and smoke of Birmingham and was enjoying the bright colours and clear skies before the inevitable return to dirt and smoke that awaited her in London. She knew that each mile being put between her and Tommy should make her feel calmer, but instead she had an overwhelming desire to get off this train at the next station and go straight back to Birmingham. Being near to Tommy had been like standing at the very edge of a cliff looking out at the most beautiful view she had ever seen and even though she knew the ground could fall from beneath her feet at any second, there was still a voice in her head telling her to jump over and into the sea below. Y/N spent the rest of the journey having a fierce internal battle, half of her was committed to forgetting Thomas Shelby even existed and thinking it ridiculous that he had any effect on her at all in such a short amount of time. The other half of her was able to offer no coherent argument or firm reasoning but instead longed desperately to be back under the gaze of his eyes.

When she got off the train in London it was already nearing dinner time and hunger had overtaken all other emotions. Y/N moved quickly through the busy London streets, listening to the calls of the stallholders who were trying to sell at least one last thing before packing up for the night, and after stopping briefly to grab some bits for dinner she was finally home. She lived on the middle floor of a shared tenement house, it wasn’t much and with her savings she could certainly afford more, but this was the world she felt comfortable in. The back door was just for her use, it meant she could come and go without drawing attention and the neighbours were less likely to notice if she were away for days at a time. Y/N tried not to get to attached to people or places, but this was the house she had lived in the longest, and despite her best efforts she had grown to care for some, if not all, of her neighbours. The family upstairs consisted of a father, who was either at work or drinking his wages at the pub, a mother who gambled away what little money made it home and their four children. Most of the food on their table was thanks to the money the older children earned running errands for Y/N. She never asked anything dangerous of them, but she paid them good money to keep a look out for red ribbons tied to a gate three streets away. Downstairs, there was a nice couple with a young baby who mostly kept to themselves, Y/N wasn’t even sure of their names, but still the wife was pleasant enough speak to when their paths crossed.

After unpacking and having a quick dinner Y/N was ready for bed, it wasn’t particularly late, but the events of the past few days had taken their toll, she was just about to change for bed when someone knocked at her door. Y/N grabbed a knife and made her way downstairs, she didn’t get visitors and it was to late to be one of the children from upstairs. Slowly she opened the door revealing the face of the woman from downstairs. “Oh, good evening, everything alright?” Y/N asked, carefully keeping the knife hidden behind the door as she held it open. “Yeah, I’m sorry to bother you, it’s just I was wondering if you had a bit of ribbon going spare?” The woman was young and had thick Birmingham accent that Y/N had never taken much notice of before. “Ribbon.” It was the only word Y/N could manage, it was more of a statement then a question and she was trying hard not to panic. “Yeah,” her neighbour continued “red if you’ve got it. My bloody brother has invited himself down and wants me to get him some ribbon. God knows why he wants it and why it has to be red, but I left it to late to get the shop. Karl hasn’t been very well today, so I had to wait for my Freddie to get home and watch him. You don’t look to well yourself.” Y/N had been frozen as she listened, a cold sweat beginning to form on her brow. “No. I haven’t.” again she had to fight with herself to get words to come out “Night.” She muttered as she pushed the door shut. Y/N felt her legs begin to wobble beneath her, so she sunk to the floor, listening to the footsteps moving away on the other side of the door.

“Fuck.” Y/N whispered, holding her head in her hands. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she never bothered to remember what her neighbours name was? She had done her research in Birmingham and knew that the Shelby brothers had a sister named Ada who had moved to London, but when she learned that the sister was nowhere near, she hadn’t looked any further into her. Y/N had thought her irrelevant to her job. If she had dug a bit deeper in Birmingham, if she had gotten to know her neighbour better, she would have realised sooner than this, that Ada Shelby lived downstairs from her. “Fuck!”

@comebackjessica​ @nemesis729​ @spacenijntje​ @hinagiku0​ @fruitloopzzz​ 

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Scars - Part One (Fred Weasley x OC)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Scarlett Black, daughter of Sirius Black, has been invited along with Harry and Hermione to the Weasley's Bungalow for the summer before their 5th year. Whilst nice in theory, Scarlett would normally be spending her summer in her father's empty, old flat and finds herself missing the familiarity of that dingy apartment, and feels estranged with the unrelenting love of the Weasley Household. Fred Weasley is the unlikely friend who she finds distracting her from her unique homesickness, and the two find themselves falling into something a little bit bigger and a little more complicated then they could've ever expected.

Word Count: 3412

Pairings: Fred Weasley x OC

Warnings: None

A/N: I’m writing this story on my wattpad account, so if you like it and want early updates then I suggest you go read it over there!

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was nice, arguably more than she deserved, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.

The girl watched as morning light strengthened along the walls, semi in denial that she was even awake. What light that did tumble in from the window was tainted somewhat green form the overwhelming amount of shrubbery outside - it wasn't supposed to be like that. She was used to a navy hum that would sporadically ache through her bruised and battered window, the one that didn't even open. But the one she had now did, and last night someone had thrown it open, unable to cope in the relentless summer heat, and now she could hear the birds as she awoke and even the chatter of her friends in the garden.

It was meant to be comforting, a sentiment that she was now somewhere safe and surrounded by people she loved - but all she seemed to feel was a dull lonely ache sitting in her chest.

"Fine. I'll get up." She whispered, it seemed she could ignore her consciousness no longer and so she sat up and turned to face the dreaded window and the promise that came with it. It was a perfect day, of course. It was day one of the summer holidays, the longest break you get from Hogwarts Wizardry School of Magic and it was late June. Of course, it would be perfect. The sun was sitting proudly in the sky and showed no sign of going anywhere nor weakening in its relentless heat. The green of the hills rolled up and down until they merged with the hazy blue horizon line. It was perfect and warm and welcome - and she hated it.

Looking down she was wearing a sweater that Molly Weasley had made for her last winter - another thing she didn't deserve. Not to mention the bed, though creaky and missing a few planks of wood, it was coated in more homemade blankets and ties of aged cloths, a thousand little scars of love. It seemed as though she were surrounded by so much warmth and kindness, and she didn't know what to do with it. The room was already empty, Hermione and Ginny had already made it downstairs for breakfast. Ginny, the name came with a twinge in her gut. This was her room that she was taking up space in, and she would be for nearly seven weeks.

Pulling on someone's blue sweatpants, the girl took several long breaths before she finally decided to brace the world. The 'world' being the hallway of the Weasley's Bungalow just outside Ginny's room, to which there was no one even there.

Day One, Scarlett thought as she began winding her way down a series of crooked steps, lowering herself closer and closer to the heart of the house, the bubbling kitchen and sitting room which the rest of the house appeared to be occupying. Day One.

The worst part about hating her stay here was the guilt that came with the hatred. She loved the Weasleys, not to mention the fact that both Harry and Hermione were here, it should be heaven for her. Scarlett didn't want to hate being at the Weasley's and in many ways, she didn't hate it here. But the alternative to spending her summer here was spending her summer in the dingy flat her father had somehow managed to buy for her before he was sent away.

In many ways, it was all she had of him, and even though her summer normally consisted of shunning herself away, sleeping her father's bed and quietly getting ahead in all her schoolwork - it was the only time she ever got to appreciate him. When your father is Sirius Black, that's not something you get to speak of casually with others, not even friends she'd realised. Even Harry Potter whom Sirius had taken a great liking to when they were in their third year couldn't seem to relate to how Scarlett felt.

"Scar!" Hermione smiled from where she was squashed between Ron and Harry at the kitchen table, all of them hunkered over a book. "You're awake! Come have a read of this!"

"Finally!" Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes as she shoved a spoonful of cereal in her mouth and leaning against the cabinets. "Are those my sweatpants?"

"Scar!" An overexcited voice tore through the blubber of the kitchen where the entire household, parents and siblings alike, appeared to be gathering - well, not everyone. The latest voice to call her attention luckily prevented Scarlett from having to respond to either party. It was Geroge who was her saviour, half-dressed in quidditch gear and holding a bat in his right hand. "We've got a game of quidditch but the numbers are odd!"

"Oh no," Scarlett muttered dryly.

"Please Scar. It's me versus Bill and Fred."

"George you can't play quidditch with four people."

"'Course y'can, don't be daft."

"George I'm not-"

"Did she say no?" Fred's voice echoed over the returned chatter of the kitchen only seconds before he appeared next to his twin. Fred too was dressed in moth-eaten quidditch year and was sporting an unfazed, dopey grin. "You automatically lose if she won't play Georgie." He proceeded to gloat to his twin as he leaned back against the doorframe, bending his head to the side as he didn't quite fit.

"Oh, no one told me those were the stakes." The sight of Fred appeared to awaken a competitive edge in Scarlett, she had always been closer with him than his brother, but purely in a friendly way. "Oh, George you should've said." Goerge positively gleamed at her change in heart and Scarlett quietly excused herself from the kitchen before slipping away into the early morning sunshine.

"I still don't understand how this works." Scarlett followed the twins looming statures out into the luminous field, squinting through the sun at their lean forms.

"Well, I 'suppose it's not really Quidditch, more of a race really." Fred hung back a bit to fall into step with Scarlett, standing to her right as to block out the sun for her.

"How d'you play?"

"Well, two people from opposing teams take a quaffle and have to go from one end of the pitch to the other, try and score and then loop back around. The other two will be trying to knock 'em down with bludgers. We played it once in practice."

"Must've been off." Scarlett shuddered off her jumper and wrapped it around her waist. She was one of the lesser-known players of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, having only joined after poor Alicia Spinnet got that nasty bludger straight to the face, her nose was never sat quite right after that and she decided to give up quidditch for the time being. Scarlett had only gone along to trials as a joke, turns out she's rather good at running away.

"We'll only do a few rounds."

"You mean, we'll only go until one of us is severely injured." Fred merely grinned down at Scarlett as they entered Bill and Geroge's little step up under the oak tree. At that moment the sun had lit up Fred's blue eyes so that they turned a watery orange and his freckles appeared to glow across his pale skin.

"Oh, Lettie, I love having you around. It's like every day's a gift." Scarlett rolled her eyes, brushing off his personal nickname for her by leaning down and plucking her broom from the stack.

"Right you got the rules?" Bill asked - he was only here for another day or so before he was off to see Fleur in London.

"Think so." Scarlett passed the broom from palm to palm.

"Good. First, it's me and Scar flying whilst the twin's shoot. Then swap, then alternate."

"Yeah, yeah," George muttered, already swinging his beater back and forth. "Let's play."

Scarlett won against Bill, then Fred against George, George also lost to Bill, and then finally, Fred versus Scar. It was nice to be in the air for a change, it was so rare that you ever got such a clean sweep of the field with a quaffle in quidditch. Especially since in recent years the game had upped in competitiveness given the newfound rivalry between Malfoy and Potter. It had been ages since Scarlett could genuinely say she had had a nice game of quidditch.

"Don't go easy on me pretty boy," Scarlett muttered as she set herself up, still rubbing her shoulder from where rather a nasty bludger from Fred hit her on her first round.

"Oh, you think I'm pretty." Fred batted his eyelashes at her, whilst he straddled the branch between his legs, his cotton trousers revealing his thighs as they clenched and re-clenched as he gained his balance.

"Oh for God's-just play." Scarlett kicked off before circling around to the starting point just above the willow trees. Fred was quick to join her, he was incredibly apt on a broom. Scarlett liked quidditch in theory more than in practice, she had taken a fancy to it in her second year when she had had more free time, and she would study different flying styles when she could. Fred was nearly a text-book perfect lean flyer. He was clean and precise and very clearly knew how to manipulate and dominate the broom to fit his needs.

"Play nice with me Lettie, okay?" Scarlett merely scoffed at Fred's faux-innocence.

"In your dreams, Freddie."

And they were off. Had the weather maybe been a bit damper and the pitch a bit more sustainable, Scarlett may as well have been back at Hogwarts on the quidditch pitch, practising with the twins, Harry and Ginny, and on the odd occasion, Ron too. But it was nicer here at the Weasley's Bungalow. The rolling fields were idyllic and the sun-light splashed everything in a clear bright light, not to mention how clean the air was when you were flying, almost like water as it gushed around you.

Scarlett had the upper hand most of the mini-game since she was a trained chaser whilst Fred was for more apt as a beater. Still, Fred liked to play a little dirty since he knew he probably couldn't win naturally. This resulted in Fred sporadically swerving in closer to Scarlett and trying to even circle her as to throw her off course.

Scarlett merely spluttered colourful insults whilst she allowed her body to naturally swerve her this way and that as to avoid him. She couldn't help but be a bit more distracted with Fred flying next to her, he was no longer just an annoying boy but a young man. His newfound height wasn't all that had changed with Fred, he was leaner with quidditch practise, so much so that his old shirts were now just a little to tight the shoulders. His hair was in this soft middle-ground between short and long that usually meant that he was due for a haircut. Not to mention the fact that as he flew he only kept one arm on the broom whilst the other stayed relaxed by his side, the ribbons of muscle-flexing sporadically as he shifted course.

Whether it was Fred's distractions or the distraction of Fred, the bludger that Bill had just launched from her left nearly went entirely unnoticed by Scarlett. It was only when it was metres away that she seemed to notice the oncoming black shadow, pelting towards her, and this resulted in a rather messy dodge that as it turns out, wasn't a dodge at all. The bludger, though missing her, managed to catch the front of her broom which sent her balance entirely off. Suddenly the broom was wild underneath her as it tried to jump itself back into equilibrium. Up, down, left, right - soon Scarlett didn't know which way was up and which way was down.

"Shit, shit, shit-" Scarlett barely heard Fred's voice as he veered closer towards her, she was too concerned over the world spinning around her to take notice of him. Next thing she knew the broom had clearly given up and was now plummeting downwards towards the grassy, yet solid, earth. When that approaching green shadow was only metres away, Scarlett felt a weight colliding with her right side, knocking her off her broom so she fell the last metre before rolling several times with the object in tow.

When the world finally came to a sudden and rather brutal stop, the first and only thing Scarlett seemed to notice was a pair of hands gripping the exposed skin of her waist. It seemed as though in the fall her shirt had somehow ridden up, and the person who had pulled her to safety was now holding the exposed skin. Looking down she saw two freckle-speckled hands holding her against her saviour's chest, three of the fingers had slipped under the fabric of her shirt and were gripping dangerously high on her ribs.

"Sorry!" A voice jolted her, some part of her mind loosely recognised the voice as belonging to Bill who no doubt had been the one to throw the bludger.

"My fault," Scarlett replied, shuffling a little so that she could hide her flushed cheeks by brushing down the grass stains on Ginny's sweatpants. As she moved the hands seemed to realise they were gripping her and slowly disentangled themselves with her shirt.

As Bill and George made their way over Scarlett snuck a look over her shoulder at Fred. He was leaning back on his hands as he sat, his legs outstretched in front of him. He wasn't really looking at anything, just squinting in the sunlight. Scarlett noticed the messy tufting of his hair and the way his shirt had somewhat rolled up near the waistband of his trousers so she could just see the toned, freckled flesh that was hidden there.

"Whoops!" George laughed as he ran up to Fred and Scarlett, reaching down and helping his twin up.

"Good thinking Fred, we almost broke our new house guest." Bill was the one who reached out to help Scarlett up and as he did so he sent her a playful wink and a shake of the hand before he turned and slapped his brother on the back. Fred, in turn, appeared to now be sporting a rather bitter expression towards his brother, as though his kind words were nothing but slander.

"Yeah well, someone's gotta look out for her, she's not used to how you two play quidditch," Fred muttered, and Scarlett was surprised to hear an angry lilt in his voice. He never got annoyed, or angry - and if he did he would normally always play it off with a joke.

"Sorry Scar that's my fault," Bill said again, pulling her in for a half-hug.

"Ugh, would you guys stop worrying. It was nothing! I'm not even hurt." Scarlett rolled her eyes and turned to retrieve her broom, praying with everything she had that it wasn't damaged - God knows she couldn't afford a new one. "It was basically like a wake-me-up."

"Still, we'll be more careful in the future." Fred finally smiled at her, and that dark cloud above him seemed to pass.

"Don't you dare. God knows the other houses won't go easy on us, why the hell should we go easy on each other."

"Fair point, fair point," George muttered, and with that, the party appeared to decide that that was enough Quidditch for one day - well, at least for one morning.

Bill and George decided that to make up for their meanness and to be 'gentlemen' they'd be the ones to take the kit back to the shed whilst Fred and Scarlett could wind their way back to the Bungalow. For a small while the two didn't speak as they fell into step with one another, and Scarlett couldn't help but wonder if Fred was thinking the same as her - thinking about how it felt to have Fred clutching her bare skin, whilst he was flushed against her back, pinning her to the floor.

"You want to tell me what's been getting you down." Fred eventually spoke and Scarlett couldn't help but blush, some part of her was worried Fred could hear her gushing thoughts.

"What?"

"Oh please, ever since you found out you were spending summer here you've been positively miserable."

"Shut up."

"I'm being serious, hey-" Fred jumped forward and twisted so that he was now standing in front of her, looking down at her with a suddenly serious glare. "I don't mean to take the piss, I know sometimes me and George can take things too far but if you're really upset then-"

"Fred I'm fine." Scarlett squinted up at him, Fred's sudden mood change had taken her by surprise. "Just homesick y'know." Even though Scarlett by no means wanted to continue the conversation, at least not yet, she didn't want to move on and disrupt the moment. It was quite nice to have a few personal seconds with Fred, she had never really had a chance to before, not if you count passing comments in the Gryffindor changing room. It was just, nice.

"Shit, that doesn't look fine." Fred's eyes at some point must have trailed southwards as he was now wincing at the sight of Scarlett's shoulder, only semi-covered by a tank top. There on her shoulder was a flowering pink bruise that no doubt was going to blacken over the next few days.

"Eh, you know I've had worse." The Gryffindor rule was that if you didn't come out with an in injury then you clearly weren't playing hard enough.

"Still..." Fred muttered. "I did that?" Without thinking Fred reached out and pulled the strap of her tank top an inch off her shoulder to get a better look at the flushed skin. The movement appeared perfectly natural to him and he merely continued to study the injury he'd caused, his finger fluttering lightly over the colourful pattern the bludger had painted. But Scarlett seemed frozen in place, all of sudden, it was like a million things hit her.

The golden light that was bouncing of his skin, the way he had some pale grass stuck in the orange tufts of his hair, the less prominent freckles that clustered across his nose and temples. Not only that but right then and there, she could smell him, and it was Fred's smell. It was warm and welcoming, a familiar musk that had been around her every time she'd been near him, she had just never noticed it.

"I'm fine," Scarlett whispered once more, not trusting her voice to speak much louder. How long had this feeling been there, how many times had she confused it for something else? All these years she'd watch him fall in and out with girls and just thought he saw her as a little sister to him. She herself had been with other boys but, Fred had always been a shoulder to cry on. Was this even possible?

Fred's eyes came back to hers for just a moment and another thousand questions lurched in Scarlett's mind.

"Okay." Fred eyed her warily, as though he were not convinced, but he slipped the strap of her tank top delicately back over her shoulder.

"I'm fine!" She laughed throwing her hands in the air.

"Whatever you say, Lettie." He turned back around and started pacing again, and Scarlett couldn't help but feel her heart drop a little. Didn't he want to stay out here a bit longer where there was no one to eavesdrop on their conversation? Clearly not.

"Can't believe it's my first day here and I'm already battered and bruised."

"Did you really expect anything different?"

"No...can't say that I did." She smiled up at him and he smiled down at her. And then all of a sudden they were back in the brimming kitchen and someone was pushing a plate of food in Scarlett's hands and Molly was scolding her for playing on an empty stomach and everything was normal.

And then Fred sent Scarlett a wink over his shoulder before he disappeared upstairs to get changed and Scarlett felt a warmness flush throughout her chest. Maybe everything wasn't normal - maybe Scarlett had just found something to make this summer, bearable.

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Five

Fake It Until You Make It Real

Friday night by seven o'clock found Louis being served a plate of steak, baked shell mac and cheese, honey buttered rolls, and a small side salad as he graded his papers.

"Thank you." Louis said looking up at Harry briefly as he sat to his left, "I could have helped you know."

"The only thing you need to do is one never do work at my dining table again and two eat." Harry said glaring at him playfully, "I have an office y'know, I have a spare office even if you wanted that for yourself. My dining table is not your desk."

"You're the one that demanded to keep conversation going about wedding flowers while I had to grade. I was moving to the coffee table. But I promise I won't turn your dining table into my desk."

"Good. Now eat." Louis rolled his eyes but set his red pen down and moved the graded stuff into his bag and the unmarked stuff to the living room coffee table for now. Returning to his seat he grabbed his fork and dug into his side salad first wanting to taste the homemade dressing Harry made.

"My mom is going to love you and demand to know how you made me eat a salad." Louis grumbled as he shoved another forkful into his mouth glaring at Harry.

"I'll be sure to give her my recipe." Harry said, "I use to cook with my mom almost every night, so I learned a thing or two."

"Now I feel like I shouldn't even try to cook your dinner. I'll disappoint you."

"Never. I just got into cooking because I have an empty house all the time. You have Freddie who gets hungry in five minutes and expects food in ten. You're not obligated to try and impress me with your cooking. If it's edible I'm happy. Doesn't even have to be warm. I'll eat cold food if I'm hungry enough. Hannah actually left out frozen pizzas or canned soup for me all the time. Most of the time the pizza was thawed by the time I got home and so it wasn't good to cook and the soup I would just open and eat without heating it."

"She didn't make you dinner?"

"Nope."

"Well, I guess I don't have to best her at being the better housewife." Harry choked on his beer and laughed as he wiped his mouth off.

"If there was a competition, I promise you, you have already won it.  Anyway, speaking of your soon to be married title I picked up our engagement rings. Yes, I got us matching ones so the nurses can stop trying to persuade me into being straight. I’ve been telling them I’ve had a boyfriend for months and I think they don’t believe me.”

“Should I come by to your work to give you lunch one day? Be extra flirty?”

“Would you?” Louis laughed looking down at his plate, “I’m serious over here.”

“Sure, I’ll come over in my tightest pair of pants and your sweater I have at my house.”

“I have the perfect pullover hold on.” Louis opened his mouth to tell Harry to sit down but Harry was already running up the stairs by the time the words registered in his brain. Harry came back down on a minute later with a white pullover and when he spread it out, he saw STYLES was written on the back with the letter ‘19’ on the front and back.

“The hospital has a football team to encourage exercise and outdoor play. I bloody suck at football, but as my boyfriend you support me anyway.”

“Fiancé and give it.”

“Soon to be fiancé.” Harry countered with a grin as he handed the pullover to Louis who laid it with his other stuff in the living room. “Just come in wearing that and they’ll…hopefully back off.”

“Oh, they’ll back off. I can be mean if I want to be.”

“You’re the best.”

*********

Saturday morning Harry was waking Louis up in the guest room with French Toast, bacon, and three poached eggs.

“Eat, get ready, we should leave in two hours.”

“Go away.” Louis groaned, “Why did I agree to do this today?”

“Because you and I both know it’ll be easier to do wedding things without Freddie there. As much as I adore him, it would be very boring. See you downstairs.” Louis glared at Harry’s retreating back then turned his attention to the plate of breakfast and decided getting up this early was an even trade for breakfast that looked that good. Louis ate his breakfast quickly then got dressed for a day outside in the late September weather. He took his plate downstairs and put it in the dishwasher and turned to Harry as he laid out on the couch, his phone in his hands.

“Are you taking a selfie?” Louis asked grinning when Harry stretched his neck to look at him with a beet red face.

“I’m snapchatting Maddie. Meanie.”

“Meanie?! Wow. I’m impressed. For a doctor you certainly have a way with words.” Harry grinned rolling his eyes before looking back at his phone, “You take selfies weird.”

“There is no wrong way to take a picture you  child. Stop making fun of me.” Louis laughed and headed to him, hands on his hips as he stood where his head was resting on the arm of couch.

“Ready to go old man?” Harry laid his phone on his chest facing upwards and looked at him with a soft smile on his lips, “What?”

“I bet you looked cute pregnant.”

“Really? That’s what you are thinking about? Well for the record I most certainly did not look cute pregnant. My ex made sure to tell me that everyday too. He wouldn’t even give a hand if you know what I mean when my stomach was in the way.”

“You’re joking.” Louis shook his head, “What a douche. Why did you like him?”

“The sex was good. I was young and naïve. He gave great head all things considered.” Harry laughed, “What? It’s true. Why’d you stay with Hannah for so long?”

“It wasn’t the sex I can tell you that much. When we were about to break up, we found out she was pregnant, so we stayed together. We had been having a hard time in uni, so we were discussing breaking it off but then she told me she was late one night, and I got a pregnancy test for her and it was positive. Honestly, I don’t even remember the last time I had sex…god I’m lame.” Louis laughed as Harry swung his legs to the ground and pushed himself up, “Ready then?”

“Yeah, come on virgin Mary.”

“Not funny. When was the last time you got laid?”

“Point taken. Moving on.” Louis said grabbing Harry’s pullover he gave him yesterday and pulling it on as they left the house. Louis slid into the passenger seat of Harry’s Murano as Harry got into the driver’s seat. “Where are we headed first?”

“I figured we’d do what will take us the longest first which is our venue. They’re all south of us as well except one. Want to start with the furthest one out which is four hours out. Ready?”

“I’m taking a nap on the road.”

“Go ahead.”

As predicted the venue looking took all day, but it wasn’t taxing at all. Most of the venues they were able to walk around alone or with just one staff member. The colorful leaves on the trees, not yet having fallen down, made every location look breath taking and each venue had pictures of what it would look like in the winter. It was relaxing really, and since Harry had only written down the ones that had the 19th available, they didn’t have to worry about falling in love with a place only for it to not be free that date. Louis held Harry’s hand throughout the day watching as he charmed his way through staff members and watching as his eyes lit up when he saw the snowy landscapes. There had been one staff member that hadn’t taken his eyes off of Harry for more than a few seconds that Louis shut down with a raised brow that made Harry blush and grin widely trying to pretend he had no idea what just happened and why the staff member didn’t look at Harry any more than appropriate after that. When they got to the SUV Harry had pinch him and exclaimed, they could not pick that venue for fear of a staff member ruining their wedding because of Louis. Louis had laughed and continued to laugh as they drove to the other venue. By the time they got home the sun was set and they had grabbed takeout on the road then relaxed on the couch watching a movie as they talked about the venues and what they liked and didn’t like until they had narrowed it down to their top three.

You guys will be able to have a say in the venue! The reason it has taken so long is because as an American I have no idea about wedding venues in the UK. So I've been googling and I've only selected the ones that had Winter pictures so we all get an idea of what it looks like. In the comments go ahead and comment your favorite! It can be you only favorite or your top three! I do have three favorites that I am in love with writing a scene with.  The Mills Wedding Venue didn't have many winter photos so I encourage everyone to google all the locations as well to get a good feel of them. I LOVE ALMOST EVERY SINGLE ONE SO THIS IS ALL UP TO YOU! I'll be counting Wattpad, Tumblr, and Archive's comments as they come until I am writing the chapter. If you need better pictures they will be on my tumblr page! LarryFanficWriter!

[illfoandillfie]

Curtains - Part 4

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Roger x Reader

Summery: You turn Roger down

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst, an argument with some very mean words, rough sex, choking, badly handled Feelings

Words: 4,192 (longest chapter so far)

A/N: penultimate chapter is a bit of a downer lmao

Taglist (though notifications don’t seem to be working so hopefully ya’ll see this):  @laedymoon​  @dtfrogertaylor​   @ezmina98​  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​  @hannafuckingsucks​​

@bohemiansweede​​ @rogershoe​​  @lnnuend0​​  @funitrog​

You’d managed to avoid Roger for a solid three weeks. It hadn’t been easy considering you went to the same uni and lived next door to each other and you still hadn’t hung your curtains, but you’d been managing alright. There’d been a lot of ducking into bathrooms or around corners when you saw him on campus. A lot of studying on your couch rather than in your room to avoid him knocking at your door again. A lot of leaving early and sneaking home when you knew he’d be playing at the pub or else crashing on friend’s couches when possible. Anything to avoid Roger and the questions he was sure to have about your cancelled date.  

The night he’d asked you out had been a sleepless one despite what you’d told him, your brain keeping you up with misgivings about dating Roger. Sex with him was one thing but an actual date was a whole different ballgame, one you weren’t sure you wanted to play. You needed more time to think, weigh up what you wanted. Did you enjoy being around Roger? Or did you just like that he could get you off? Most of your conversations had happened just before you slept together, while you were too horny to think straight, or just after, while you were coming down from the high. Which made it hard to know if you actually liked him, or it was just the endorphins talking. He seemed sweet enough, if a little full of himself, from what you knew about him, but really he was a giant question mark. He might be a complete arsehole. Or a control freak. He might be a serial womanizer. Or a serial killer. So you’d called it off, the day after he’d asked you out. A purposeful accidental meeting on his way out of the house. It had taken hours of sitting by your front door, changing your mind over and over again as you waited for him to step outside and head towards his van. A small wave to get his attention and then, when he’d smiled and greeted you, an apologetic look and some bullshit about a family situation meaning you weren’t going to be able to see him on Saturday. The lack of sleep might actually have helped you sell your story. He’d looked disappointed but not half as disappointed as he was a minute later when he tried to reschedule, and you said you’d have to get back to him with a day that worked. Since then you’d done everything in your power to not see him. Ostensibly so you could think things through, give yourself some time to work out what you actually wanted, though the reality of it was closer to making excuses and hiding. Sometimes literally hiding. He’d come over a few times, sending you scurrying for cover in your bathroom. You’d found notes each time, once or twice accompanied by a flower, saying he really wanted to talk with you. You stopped reading them after the third one, though you didn’t throw them out. Just left them in a pile on your coffee table, waiting for you to get curious enough to take a peek. And now it had all gone to shit because you’d forgotten to account for his dumb friends. 

“Y/N, can you just tell me what’s going on?” Freddie asked you, having cornered you on campus before you could think to escape his notice. You hadn’t even considered Freddie or anyone besides Roger wanting to talk to you about it.   “Sorry Freddie but it’s really none of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got t-”  “Rog has been really bummed out since you cancelled on him. Moping around, playing the worst fucking music. Constantly, for two and a half weeks now. Just rubbish record after rubbish record. I think that entitles me to an explanation of what the hell happened between you.”  “It just didn’t feel right,” you shrugged.  “But fucking in the pub bathroom did?”  “That’s different,” you said, annoyed that he was inserting himself in your business, judging your actions, “The sex was just sex, I never signed up to get involved. Besides, Roger isn’t the sort of guy I date.”  “Bullshit,”  “What? You think because I'm shy and find it hard to approach men that I can’t have a casual fling? That I’m so desperate for attention I’ll say yes to anyone?”  “Darling you don’t have a monopoly on being shy,” He paused for a moment, eyeing you up, “Everything you just said is rubbish.”  “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms over your chest, waiting indignantly for Freddie to continue.  “It’s got nothing to do with things not feeling right or whatever else you’ve told yourself. It’s because you’re scared. I know you were scared to approach him when you moved in and you were scared to make a move on him at the pub. I saw you, hoping he’d notice you. And we all saw you after the show the other week, laughing at his jokes and all those little smiles when you thought no one was looking. You turned him down because you got scared.”  “Fuck off Freddie. We hung out one time, you don’t know me and frankly neither does Roger.”   “Isn’t that the point of going on a date though? To get to know each other?”  “Maybe I don’t want him to know me. He only thinks he’s interested because I’ve been sleeping with him. As soon as it stops being fun or he finds someone new, he’ll ditch me.”  “You need to give Roger more credit than that.”  “No, what I need to do is get to class,” you pushed past him.  Freddie's voice followed you as your stormed off, “Fine, Y/N, but can you at least talk to Roger about it?”  You threw him the V over your shoulder as you walked away.  

Still stewing over everything Freddie had said, you didn’t pay any attention to where you were walking.   Wanker, you thought to yourself, what’s it to him anyway. Not my problem Roger’s in a shitty mood and has crap taste in music. Says a handful of sentences to me while we hung out in the van one time and he thinks he knows a single thing about me. Thinks he can butt into my business. It’s got nothing to do with him if I never see Roger again! You spent the next few minutes cursing Freddie and coming up with a list of things you wished you’d said to him, only stopping when you realised you were standing outside your front door, yelling a single, loud, “SHIT” into the air. That summed it up really. Shit. Everything was shit. Missing a class you really should have been at was shit, being cornered and read like a fucking book by Freddie was shit, not seeing Roger was shit. You decided to call the day what it was – a total fucking lost cause – and have a nap. Your bag thumped against the floor where you dropped it by the door, your shoes making equally loud bangs as you kicked them across the room. The small pile of notes still sat on the coffee table, taunting you, but you ignored it heading stright to your room. You shimmied out of your jeans and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over your head to block out the sun streaming in through the curtain-less door.��God I've really got to fix that. 

Just as you got settled you heard a tapping against the glass. You screwed your eyes shut, having a feeling you knew who causing the racket, and willed him to go away. He didn’t. Instead he tapped louder, his voice muffled by the glass as he called your name.   “Y/N, I know you’re in there! I heard you swearing!”  You buried your head under your pillow, trying to block him out. The constant tapping alone was getting on your nerves, never mind his voice.  “I can fucking see you moving around! Can you please just talk to me?”  “Go away Roger!”  “Not until you talk to me!”  “For fucks sake,” you hissed under your breath before throwing the covers back, “Fine!” You strode towards the door, yanking it open, “Fine, let's talk then.”  “Drop the attitude Y/N. You’re the one who blew me off and then fucking disappeared for weeks, I just want to know why.”  “Take the hint Roger, I don’t want to date you.”  “Jesus, yeah I got that. Why are you being such a cunt about it though?”  You stared at him for a few seconds, stung though you knew he was right.  “Well? Are you going to say something, or just stand there?”  You decided on neither, moving to shut the door in his face but he was too quick, wincing as it his his shoulder.  “No, you owe me an explanation Y/N,” he said pushing the door wide enough to get inside, “What did I do? Something happened between me leaving and the next day when you cancelled and I want to know what the fuck it was,”  “I came to my senses that’s what happened,” you stood your ground even as he invaded your personal space and a voice screamed in the back of your head to just stop and be honest.  Roger shook his head, “You think you’re being so fucking clever, don’t you? Well you’re not. You’re just being a bitch.”  “You don’t know me, Roger. You think cos we fucked a few times you know a single goddamn thing about me but you don’t.”  “I had it right the first time.”  “What?”  “The first time I fucked you. Left as soon as I’d finished with you, that was the right idea. All that hanging around after shit was a waste of time.”  “Yeah well, if you ask me none of it was worth it. Should have realised after the first time you weren’t a good enough fuck anyway.  “That's bullshit and we both know it. Do you have any idea how fucking pathetic you looked, how desperate, waiting for me to notice you? One fucking word was all it took to have you spread your legs for me, and in a room full of strangers no less. Literally begged to suck me off last time, like a proper slut. You’re the easiest pussy I ever got, Y/N. And It was stupid of me to think you were worth more than the time it took me to cum.”  “That’s how you feel is it?”  “Yeah, it is,”  “Really?”  “Yes.” His voice was dripping with contempt as he glared at you. 

There was a beat as Roger seemed to realise what he’d said, eyes widening in horror and then your hands were at his fly, nails catching against the denim as you almost tore the button off in your haste.   “Y/N wh-”  “Shut up and fuck me,”  He still looked a little shocked as you made to pull his shirt off.  “Jesus, do I have to do everything,”  That reignited his frustration and he managed to do what you couldn’t, tearing a few of the buttons from your shirt, sending them scattering across the floor, as he pulled it open to reveal your breasts. You got a hand into his pants, tugging at him as he pushed you towards your bed, door left standing open behind him. There was no time to think, no time to talk. One minute you’d been cursing at each other and the next you were lying on your back with Roger roughly pulling you towards the edge of the mattress. He let go of you long enough to get his pants down, moving your underwear to the side as he lined himself up. Your back arched when he entered you and you gasped as he paused.  “Fucking move, arsehole,”  “Still a pathetic slut,” he growled back bringing a hand to your throat as he leaned over and rammed into you. He’d been rough with you before but not like this. Careless. Inconsiderate. Brutal. Roger found a harsh rhythm and stuck to it, tightening his grip on your throat whenever you opened your mouth to hurl another insult his way. You grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin which only seemed to inspire a rougher treatment. He didn’t bother to rub your clit, made no attempt to hold off his own orgasm and let you catch up. Left it up to you to get there or not. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach was only beginning to build when he grunted in your ear, hips stuttering. He left you feeling empty and unsatisfied, tucking himself away as you sat up and stared. There was a moment of quiet, both of you breathing heavily, watching the other.   “That’s exactly why I cancelled,” you said softly. You could feel your chest tightening, eyes prickling, but you were determined not to break down in front of Roger.   His shoulders slumped as he looked at you, absentmindedly raking his fingers through his hair, “Y/N, I’m, fuck, that wasn’t-“  “Get out,” Your voice was steady.  “That’s not how I wanted it to go. I didn’t mea-"  “Just get the fuck out of here Roger.”  He gave you a final apologetic look before flinging himself out of the door and disappearing around the corner. You held yourself together just long enough for him to leave and then you sunk to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, tears falling onto them and rolling down your legs as your body shook with sobs. You hoped he could hear, door still standing open. You hoped the whole fucking street could hear.  

Over the next few days the fight was all you could think about. He, thankfully, hadn’t left any bruises or marks on your throat, but there was a dull pain where he’d thrust into you so roughly, like he’d bruised your insides. A constant reminder of what happened, not that you needed one. You heard Roger’s taunts almost in a loop, each word drilling into your skull. A cunt. Easy. Pathetic. Every time you closed your eyes you saw him, glaring at you, spitting out how little he thought of you.  But the hurt settled into a bitter vindication. So much for Freddie’s faith in Roger, you’d been right after all. Maybe you didn’t go about it the cleanest way but you’d done the right thing. You saw hide nor hair of Roger, not even so much as a glimpse of him on campus, though Freddie and Brian both tried to trap you. From what you could gather, they knew you and Roger had fought but knew nothing of the specifics. Every time you passed them they tried to stop you, but you ignored them, walked away as they yelled after you that Roger was sorry.   “He’s really fucking torn up about whatever he said to you,” Brian said softly, catching your arm as you walked home, “I keep catching him mumbling to himself about it. He swears he didn’t mean it, whatever he said.”  “Sounded like he meant it,” you wrenched your arm free and doubled your pace until you reached the safety of your living room. Eventually they stopped, giving up on trying to convince you, and you thought it was done. 

Until the day you got home from an evening class to find Roger sitting cross legged in front of your door. You stopped in your tracks, “What are you doing here?”  Roger jumped to his feet, dusting his hands off on the back of his jeans, “I Just want to talk,” he held up his hands like someone in a movie, trying to prove they didn’t have any weapons.   “I don’t want to talk.” The people in the movies usually had a knife or something hidden up their sleeve.  “Please, Y/N? I’m really sorry about what happened last time. I understand if you never want to see me again and if that’s the case then I’ll leave you alone after today. But I’d like to have a better goodbye than that.”  Crossing your arms over your chest, you considered him. Part of you wanted to tell him where to stick his apology. But he did look genuinely upset and sorry and you felt guilty, knowing the part you’d played, “Fine. Can you move so I can open my bloody door?”  “Actually,” he glanced next door, “I was hoping we could go for a drive. The other three are home and I don’t want them to overhear.”  “Worried they’ll take my side?”  “No. It’s just none of their business. So, do you mind?”  On one hand, a bit of privacy would probably be good and being elsewhere might stop another scene from erupting. On the other, though, it was harder to tell Roger to fuck off if he was your ride home.  “We wouldn’t go far, just away from here.” He looked over at his place again.   “Yeah, okay,” You said quietly.  Roger gave you a small smile, and held his hand out in an after you gesture, letting you lead the way to his van.  

The drive was almost silent. Music had started playing as the engine came to life but Roger turned it off before you could hear more than a few notes of the melancholy tune.   “Not your usual sound,” you said, awkwardly trying to make small talk.  “Spose not.”  You didn’t know what to say. Neither, it seemed, did Roger. Luckily, he didn’t go much further than a few blocks, pulling into the carpark of the local park. Usually the place would be crawling with children, screaming at each other and their parents. But now that the sun had set it was virtually deserted. A few people taking their dogs for late walks passed by as he backed the van into a spot.  “Let’s sit in the back, more space,” Roger said climbing through and opening the back doors.  “No instruments tonight?”  “Nah, not tonight.” Another small smile as he helped you through. You settled in the doorway, legs pulled in close to your body, taking up as little space as you could manage. Roger sat opposite, chewing on his lip as he turned his head to stare out over the dark park.  “I am very sorry about what I said the other day,” he looked at you and then back towards the pond, “I had an idea of what I wanted to happen except it didn’t go that way. I got pissed off and just wanted to hurt you.”  “Mission accomplished.”  “I know. Haven’t stopped thinking about it since. The second I left and h-heard you crying, I wanted to turn the clock back and undo it all. It was so cruel. Everything I said, did, was just needlessly cruel and I cannot apologise enough. I didn’t mean any of it.  “I know you didn’t mean it. Don’t get me wrong, it sucked but I pushed you on purpose,” You let your eyes wander over Roger’s face, watching his reaction, “I wanted to hear you say something like that. And then I instigated the sex because doing it confirmed what you’d said. It was just a way to prove I was right to not go out with you. Make myself feel better about being so horrid to you.”  He sighed, bring a hand up to rub the back of his neck “Like I said, not how I wanted it to go.”  You both stopped, waiting for the other to say something, though when it became clear Roger wasn’t going to continue, you stepped up.  “Guess I was looking for a fight. Freddie caught me off guard earlier, standing up for you, so I was already pissed off. I would have had a crack at just about anyone who came past but seeing you just made it worse,” you let yourself relax a bit, one leg slipping down to dangle out of the van, “We can talk now though. Promise I won’t bite your head off.”  “I just want to understand why you changed your mind. That’s all. Not to try and convince you to change it back or anything, I just want to know if something I did upset you or…”  “It wasn’t anything you did, Rog.”  He nodded, looking a little relieved, “Can I ask what it was then?”  “Yeah, umm” you sighed, trying to find the right words, “When you asked me out and I said yes, I was still on this high from the whole night. Hanging out with you and your mates was fun and fucking you in the pub was fun. And then you kissed me, which I wasn’t expecting. You’d never kissed me before. So going out with you seemed like a good idea. But then as soon as I was alone again, I freaked out about it. Freddie was right. He called me out for being scared and he was right.”  “Scared of what?”  “Everything? I don’t know. Scared you’d only asked me cos you’d been drinking or so I’d keep sleeping with you. Scared of getting hurt when you realised you didn’t really like me. Scared that one date would lead to two would lead to a serious fucking relationship. I panicked and decided it was easier to cut everything off thank risk anything. I handled this whole thing appallingly didn’t I?”  “Yeah, little bit.”  “Sorry.”  You both fell into silence again. Roger’s brow was furrowed as he looked at his own fingers. You stared out at the pond, the stars reflected in the water blurring the longer you went without blinking.  

It started to rain softly, the drops tapping against the roof of the van. You barely noticed the drops splashing onto your ankle or the chill wind that accompanied the shower, too caught up in your own head, trying to work out how to fix the situation you’d tangled yourself and Roger in.  “Shit, you’re shivering,” Roger said, breaking through the mess of thoughts swirling round your head, “I think I have a blanket back here somewhere.”  You watched, rubbing your arms to try and fend off the cold you’d only just noticed.   “Here,” Roger said at last, throwing a fuzzy blanket over your shoulders, “Wrap yourself up in that,”  “Aren’t you cold too?” you glanced at the t-shirt he wore.  “Nah, I’ll be right,”  “We could share,”  “I don’t want to overstep,”  “You wouldn’t be. Plus the extra body heat might help me warm up faster,”  “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”  “Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”  Roger scooted closer, pausing before he came closer again, testing the waters. When he reached you he pulled the blanket around his own shoulders, one arm falling behind you so he was pressed in close.  “Definitely warmer,” you said, leaning your head against his chest, ready to spring back up if he said anything. It felt nice to be so close to him again, without the anger of the last time.   “I did mean it, when I asked you out. It was a genuine request not some ploy to keep sleeping with you or whatever. Just so we’re clear.”  You nodded, leaning into him. Without thinking you began tracing your fingers over his wrist, following some marks you couldn’t see properly. There was a pang of guilt as you realised your nails had left them there.  “It doesn’t hurt,” he said softly, reading your mind, “probably deserved it. Did I hurt you?”  “A bit yeah."  He shifted your hair, trying to see any signs of how he’d squeezed your throat.  “Not there.”  “Oh, Y/N,” he held you tighter, wrapping his second arm around you, pulling you against him, “I’m so sorry,”  “It’s okay Rog. Only hurt for a couple of days. And if anyone should apologise more it’s me. I was a cunt and you didn’t deserve how I treated you.”  “It’s okay. I get why. But why don’t we make an agreement to stop going in circles apologising to each other and put it behind us, if we can.”  “Go back to before?” You asked slowly, sitting up to look at Roger, trying to get a feel for what he was hoping for, “Hooking up casually?”  “If that’s what you want, I can do casual. We don’t have to though; I’d be happy to just be friends, or whatever. As long as we’re not fighting anymore.”   “Friends would be good. But maybe you should try asking me out again? If you’re still interested?”  “Really? I don’t want you to feel obligated to say yes out of guilt or because you want to make it up to me.”  “Ask me,”  This time when he spoke there was no hesitation, “Do you want to go out with me sometime?”  “I’d really like that.”  Roger tilted your head towards him. He paused, looking into your eyes. And then, when he was satisfied with whatever he saw there, he kissed you. Softly, one arm around your waist, the other resting on your cheek. 

[radiosteve]

Need Your Loving Tonight Ch.2

Summary: About a year after you first met your best friend Brian, he tells you that he wants to fulfill his lifelong dream and form a band. After recruiting his friend Tim to join, you help them hold auditions to find the perfect drummer. Much to Brian’s surprise, you and Tim seem to be getting along a lot better than expected. 

Note: Here is part 2!! Now that we’ve got a little introduction we can start to get into the juicy stuff. I’m trying to follow along with a semi-accurate timeline so that’s why there might be a few weird time jumps. Freddie will be in the next chapter, I’m so excited! The italicized words are the readers thoughts, just like last time. I’m going to be as consistent with updates as I can, so I’ll try to have a new chapter out every few days. Also, if you want to be added to the taglist just send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you! I found the photo on google, I do not own it.

Warnings: Some language and slight smut

Pairing: (will be) Roger Taylor x Reader x John Deacon 

Words: 2.2k+

September 29, 1968

It had been a little over a year since you packed up your life and shipped yourself overseas to attend Imperial College. Your friendship with Brian only grew as the year went on. By the end of your freshman year you felt so well adjusted and comfortable with your foreign surrounds that you dreaded going back home. But, with no place to stay in London for the summer, you filled your suitcases once more and headed back to your hometown. Your mom greeted you at the airport with the biggest smile you had ever seen. 

It was difficult to tell if she actually was happy to see you or if she was just glad to have someone to fill the space between her and your father. You spent your summer like most others, working on the boardwalk and going to the beach after your shift ended. It was a lonely summer, but you knew how to adapt. All of your high school friends seemed to move on without you and all of your college friends lived in a different country, but hey that’s life. Occasionally you would go out with your friends from work when you all had time off, but you longed for the end of the summer. 

Being at home made you realize just how different New Jersey was from London. You cursed yourself from those first couple weeks of the fall semester for wishing to escape back home. Because now that you were here, it sure as hell didn’t feel like something you would call a home.The only thing that kept you sane during the warm, sunny months was the beach that was just a ten minute bike ride away. Night or day, rain or shine, it was your favorite place to hide from the lonely reality that you grew to know. It was the only thing that London lacked.

Finally the sun started to set earlier and the days quickly faded to night, bringing along the end of August and the start of a new school year. The taxi ride from Heathrow airport to campus seemed to be the longest thirty minutes of your life. But after you dragged your luggage from the taxi trunk you were nearly tackled by a hug from your best friend. After a long session of catching up and unpacking, you felt happier than you had in months. You felt as if you were laid out on the beach without a cloud in the sky. Classes went on as normal and your social life excelled along with your grades. Bringing you to where you are now. 

You and Brian had taken over your dorm for the day because your roommate Sally had gone home for the weekend. Both you and Brian were nursing pretty wicked hangovers after a very intense party the night before. You sat at your desk staring at the textbook in front of you, blinking to try and see straight. Brian sat on your bed with his guitar on his lap as he strummed softly to some tune he had made up.  

“I think I’m finally going to do it,” he spoke, pulling you from your textbook induced trance. You spun around in your chair, happy to have a distraction, but confused by the statement.

“What are you finally going to do?” You questioned, your head throbbed a little from twisting around so quickly. Brian looked up at you and slowly set his guitar down, leaning his back against the wall that your bed was pushed against. 

“I’m going to start a band, Y/n! Well, I’m actually going to put flyers up around campus and hopefully people will respond so then I can start a band,” he seemed utterly ecstatic while telling you his plans for the future. You nodded along as he talked, taking in his words and the excitement that was etched across his face. A smile overtook your expression as a thought popped into your head. This could be something big.

October 5, 1968

You stood with Brian throughout his desperate search for decent band mates. Luckily, Tim Staffell, who he had met at a concert, was all in favor of joining Brian’s new band. Now with a guitarist and a singing bassist, the duo needed a drummer. The desperate search frustrated the three of you after seeing the same mediocre drum skills over and over again. You three decided to take a break, blow some steam, and have a few drinks at Tim’s apartment. One drink turned into two and two turned into five and five became eight until you felt drunk off your ass. 

Brian had discovered early on in your friendship that you had a passion for music but you never seemed to elaborate on it whenever he brought it up. He also knew that if he got you drunk enough you would get giggly and start revealing things about yourself that you hardly ever talked about. That wasn’t his intention when he suggested to drink a few beers, but that didn’t stop him from listening when you started to giggle before you spoke.

“Guess what,” you giggled out, taking another drink from your beer bottle as the boys both turned their gaze towards you. “You guys are going to be so pissed. I can actually play the piano and the drums,” you said between giggles. Brian and Tim both sat up quickly from the couch that they rested on. 

“You’re saying that this whole time we have been searching for a drummer when we’ve had one with us the whole time?” Tim interrogated you, but his voice spoke without a hint a malice. 

“Uh-huh, I didn’t want to tell you guys though because I have no desire to be in a band. Plus I’d hate to be in a band with my best friend, break up, and then have it ruin our friendship. That would be soul crushing,” the words tumbled from your mouth before you even knew what you were saying. “Oh shit, you guys are friends, my bad,” you mumbled before draping yourself across the chair you sat on as you laughed. Brian and Tim looked at each other with raised eyebrows before looking back at you in your alcohol induced giggle-fit. Brian chuckled and took a swig from his beer bottle. Your infectious laughter and charming smile brought a grin to his lips. Tim eventually joined in on your and Brian’s giddey feeling, leaving the three of you laughing like maniacs. 

October 14, 1968

By four o’clock in the afternoon, you, Brian, and Tim felt as if you had completely lost a majority of your collective brain cells. The three of you had been stuck in a lecture theatre on campus that Brian rented out so the band could hold auditions for drummers all day. After seeing about six different people play you felt like your brain had turned to mush. Hearing the same few songs over and over was starting to give you a massive headache. You sat on a couch that Tim had managed to smuggle into the audition space as some lanky red haired boy tried, and failed, to maintain a steady tempo on the drums. 

The boy was clearly nervous, but nerves and music do not work well together. After  the three audition songs, Brian stood up and began to speak in the nicest tone he could muster.

“That was great, thank you. I think we are going to need some time to think over our decision. We’ll give you a call soon,” he said as the boy shakily stood up and grabbed his things. He responded to with only a nod and quickly fled from the room. Brian plopped back down on the right side of the couch while you sat in the middle with Tim on your left. Tim shifted his arm so that it rested across the top of the couch as he turned to look at you. 

“What do you think Y/n? In your own professional drumming opinion,” Tim asked  with a cheeky smile on his face as you turned to nudge his shoulder. 

“I’m certainly not a professional drummer, but even I can tell that whatever-his-name-is can’t drum for shit,” you signed, sinking further into the couch.

“Well, we only have one more hour and then we can leave and get some decent food. In the meantime, do you guys need anything? I’m going to run down the hall to the vending machine and get something to drink,” Brian offered, picking himself up from the couch once more. 

“Some aspirin would be great Bri,” you joked as he waved you off while walking out of the room, heading to the other side of the building. 

“Alone at last,” Tim whispered in your ear making goosebumps flourish all over your skin. “We’ve got at least five minutes,” he grabbed your cheeks and pressed his lips against yours in a rush of passion and hunger. You and Tim had secretly started hooking up ever since you woke up at his apartment the day after you got drunk and spilled the news of your secret music skills. Brian had to leave early that morning to run some errands, leaving you and Tim alone for the first time. You started of with just talking and teasing, but it soon became flirting and kissing and next thing you knew you were naked in Tim’s bed. 

You’d both promised to not tell Brian in hopes that it would prevent him from getting angry at you both. Honestly, you felt kind of bad for lying to your best friend but it seemed like the right thing to do. Plus its not like you and Tim were dating. What was going on between you two was more of a casual hookup than anything. As great as relationships may seem, you were never much of a fan of dating. 

Tim had you pinned against the couch as he brought his knee between your thighs, rubbing against your clothed core as a moan escaped your lips. He swallowed your pretty sounds as your hands traveled down his body, reached for his growing bulge. His lips traveled down your neck and towards your breasts. He stuck his face inside your shirt earning a giggle from you that soon became a moan as he sucked on the top of your left breast and gripped your hips. 

“Fuck Timmy, that feels so-”

“Hey guys-oH MY GOD,” Brian exclaimed turning around so he didn’t have to face you and shielding his eyes as you and Tim quickly pulled yourself apart. A shorter, but attractive blonde-brunette boy stood behind Brian with wide eyes and his mouth turned up in a smirk. You and Tim stood up from the couch and adjusted your clothing as Brian slowly began to turn around. “When did you guys start-” Brian began quietly but quickly cut himself off. “Nevermind, not the time. Uh this is Roger he’s here to audition.” Brian turned and gestured to Roger who waved his hand that held two drum sticks. “Roger, this is our bassist and lead singer Tim, and my best friend Y/n. Who is apparently much closer with Tim than I first thought,” He mumbled the last part more to himself, but everyone still heard it. Roger let out a small chuckle as your cheeks began to turn red. 

“You can, um, warm up or whatever you need before you start,” Tim instructed Roger, trying to cut the awkward tension in the air. You looked over at Brian who sat in the middle of the couch in order to separate you and Tim. You took a seat on Brian’s right as Roger moved towards the drumset and began to tune it.

“What are you doing,” Brian said after looking up at Roger with the drums.

“I’m tuning them,” he replied as if it was obvious. Brian turned his head towards you, with raised eyebrows and his mouth slightly agape. 

“I didn’t know that was a thing,” he muttered and you smiled at his exasperated expression. Roger finished what he had been doing and began to play the first audition song. It was by far the best rendition that you had heard all day. It sounded extremely similar to the original song but with an added dash of flair that you assumed Roger used to show off a little. When he had finished playing the three audition songs you started to clap, bringing a large smile to the blonde’s face. While Brian and Tim didn’t join in on your clapping, you could still tell that they were just as impressed as you were. 

Roger stood up, sweeping his long strands of hair behind his ears as his made his way towards where you three were seated on the couch. Brian shot up from the couch to shake Rogers hand as he approached them. Tim slowly followed and you stood soon after. A smile spread across Brian’s face after he shook Roger’s hand, earning a suspicious look from you. He’s going to say something stupid, isn’t he? Brian looked straight into Roger’s eyes and said the words you knew were coming. “You’re in.” 

Taglist: @retromusicsalad      

[cyberdva]

Drummer Boy Part 7 Roger Taylor X Reader (John X Reader)

(Originally From My Wattpad Book @panicathetrash15 )

I have the flu and still procrastinated while writing this. This is also the longest chapter I’ve written for this book... wow.

Paring: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader 

Song: I will Survive By:Gloria Gaynor

          Keep Your Self Alive By: Queen

Warnings: Cursing and Mentions Of Drinking

Words: 3k

Main Masterlist 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 

Part 6 

Part 8 

Part 9

Part 10

Drummer Boy- Roger Taylor x Reader - Seven - Wattpad

_____

Y/N POV

_____

 "Wait, isn't the battle today?" Crap. We only had one day to practice. We are preforming,"I Will Survive," by Gloria Gaynor. We had played it previously before the competition, but it still needed some work. We wanted to fix our mistakes with the song yesterday, but Tammy was so busy with Roger, so we couldn't.

I sat right up, I buried my hands in my face, "I need to practice." I sighed. I had a cold feeling, my body ached. Last night was the first night this week I had slept. John just stared at me, "What song are you guys preforming. I just want to make sure our performances don't end up like last time."

He then sat up, his long hair was a tangled mess, "It's fine, we're doing an original song. It's Freddie's first time preforming it. He's new to the group, well so am I, but he's new to the whole preforming thing. I don't know if you saw what happened time we played. Freddie dropped the mic, Roger was pissed, I thought it was hilarious honestly."

I laughed, "Oh no! I didn't see that. I feel bad for him!" John looked over and smiled at me.

"Don't be, he's new. That performance was the first time he ever sang live. I was impressed honestly, he's got a lot of talent." I nodded my head in agreement. I then got up and found my sweater folded on the ground were I left it previously.

"Hey I had fun last night." John fiddled with his soft brown hair, he was visibly nervous. How should I respond? Is he going to ask me out? My heart fluttered at the sight, I thought about dating someone finally, someone who cared. When I pictured the image I didn't see John, for some strange reason the figment of Roger came to mind. My stomach clenched why did I think of him. I'm supposed to hate him. When I looked back up from the ground, Deaky's aura seemed to cripple. Did I do something to upset him? I then pieced it together, my face showed disgust after my inner battle with my mind. I think he got the wrong idea. My mouth formed into a smile.

"I did too! Thank you so much for having me!" He melted back into his normal self, then his face went into a state of confusion. I sat at the foot of his bed as he thought, I then slide my shoes back on, my bag was left by the bedside, so I went to go grab it.

"Before you go Y/N, I was wondering if you wanted to stay over again tonight, if you want to. I found it really relaxing having you here." His eyes glistened when he spoke to me.

"Of course! Do you want to meet up after the competition?"

"Yeah, of course! I'll walk you out." He pulled the blanket off of his body. He wax wearing a tight light green shirt with red and green flannel pants. I snatched my bag up from the ground and neatly fixed his duvet cover on his bed. We walked side by side down the stairs in silence, the only thing we hear is the sound of our own feet pattering down the stairs. We proceeded through the hallway and finally made it to his large brown door. John unlocked the door and we both stepped outside the air was crisp, the sun was still rising. It cast a beam of light over the two of us.

We both just stood there looking at each other, we both seemingly got closer to each other and soon enough we kissed. Deaky put is hands on my face, his hands were callous, obviously from playing bass. It was sweet and passionate, he meant to kiss me, his hands traveled to my hair lightly tugging it, I did the same. A minute passed and we were cut off by... Roger?

"Hey love birds! Is it ok if we borrow Deaky? We have a competition to attend to, you wouldn't know much about actually  preforming Y/N." He had a hurt look imbedded in his eyes, it dissolved as he slivered out the last part of his sentence. I gave John a final farewell and he trued to apologize, I went on my way. By John's driveway there was a van with Brian and Freddie standing outside. Brian waved at me and Freddie shouted a hello and waved ferociously at me. I waved back and continued on my way home, I could hear faint yelling from who I assume is Roger and John. I jogged home, or lightly sprinted since I had no physical stamina at all. When I was home I found a note in the table that read,

Dear Y/N,

We know you were busy with John last night... ;)

"Ew." I said aloud, I contemplated continuing the note, even with that horrid intro to the letter I proceeded.

We didn't get home until very late last night and we see why you left, or at least why we think you left the house. (If you don't know what we're talking about it has to do with Roger and Tammy.) When you get home please hurry to the practice hall. We're in Studio C today and only have 4 hours to practice. Crystal wanted us to have a simple dress code, but I didn't really fancy it. We each wear a black skirt with same color stockings and shoes. You probably have those things, but to finish off the look I left a dark blue shirt and black tank top on your bed. We're doing a color scheme to appeal to the judges, Crystal is Red, you're blue, I am yellow, and Tammy is green. Just come in the outfit so we can overpower Crystal. See you soon.

-Cynthia

I walked into my bedroom to find the blue shirt mentioned in the letter. I grabbed a few things out of my closet and put them on. I shimmed on the black stockings first, they had a tiny design of vertical lines that traveled up and down my leg. I then put on the tank top, accompanied by the skirt and then I pulled the shirt over my head, lastly I put on black combat boots I had gotten for my birthday last year. They were very shiny since I had never worn them before, I could see my own reflection just by glancing at them. I wasn't sure what she wanted me to do with my hair, so I left it in the bun I had it in, it would be best if I left it like that. If I didn't I could over heat while playing. It wasn't the most comfortable outfit, but whatever Cynth wants she gets. My electric blue guitar was hanging on the wall, this would be a good first time to use it, right? I put it in my guitar case and looked for my grey wallet and keys. Once they were located I went to the studio, we still had a good three hours to practice. The building was freezing for some reason and there was barley anyone in the building except for two people walking around and a receptionist.

I went up to him, "Hi, excuse me, Do you know where studio C is?" He looked up from the paper work he was writing on and looked at me.

"Uh yeah, it's down the hall to your right." he smiled at me and gestured to where the hallway was. I thanked him and went to where he pointed to. When I turned right I slammed right into something and of course that something was a person, and to top it all off it was the one and only Roger Taylor.

"Are you stalking me?" he smirked as he got back up.

"As if Taylor, honestly it looks like you are stalking me." I grabbed my guitar case, hoping it wasn't broken and walked right past him in a hurry. A door with the letter C painted on it crossed my eye, the door opened before I had gotten to it.

"Took you long enough, go tune up." It was Tammy, I bet she's going to go "meet up" with Roger. I did as she told and met up with the rest of the band.

Before I knew it our three hours were up and it was time for us to preform. We got the car packed and went on our way to the venue.

----

My palms were sweating as I pace backstage, we were up next and for some reason I had become extremely nervous. From the corner of my eye I saw Queen come barging into the venue, it was the least of my worries. That's what I thought until I then saw John and Roger coming up to me. I turned right back around and tried not to shake as I waited for my turn.

"You new to the whole preforming thing?" next to me stood Brian holding his red guitar, he was looking straight forward at the people playing now.

"Yeah, it doesn't help that I get anxious before too."

He hummed in response and glanced down at me, he looked away and quickly looked back.

"Hey, that's a nice guitar you have, may I see it?" he perked up.

"Of course!" I lifted the guitar over my head and handed it to him. He looked at the strings and turned some of the knobs and then set them back to how they were previously.

"What model is this?"

"It's a Fender S-1 Strat." Bri handed my guitar back and I put it back on.

"I rarely see anyone use that model, did you get it in London? I saw a lot there."

Before I could answer him I hear Roger yell something in our direction.

"Oye John, it looks like you have some competition."

Brian and I turned both turned bright red and he used that as his cue to leave and talk to Cynthia. Aren't they dating or something, she speaks fondly of him sometimes. She isn't that open about her personal life.

Before I knew it we were called onto the stage.

"Alright girls, what song are you doing today?" one of the judges spoke, her hair was cut short into a Pageboy style and she spoke with a monotone voice.

Crystal grabbed the mic, all eyes were on her, "We're doing, "I Will Survive," by Gloria Gaynor." Some audience members clapped or cheered, this song has gained a fair amount of popularity over the months.

"Ok, start when you're ready."

Crystal took the mic and went to the piano across the stage and started to play.

At first I was afraid I was petrified Kept thinkin' I could never live without you by my side; But then I spent so many nights Thinkin' how you did me wrong

And I grew strong And so you're back from outer space I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face I should have changed that stupid lock

I should have made you leave your key If I'd've known for just one second you'd back to bother me Go on now, go walk out the door Just turn around now

I stood still as I began to play, my fingers tried to remember each chord and quickly got into the song, I looked up from my hands, since I was finally comfortable with playing and saw John watching me. I smiled and looked back down.

('Cause) you're not welcome anymore Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye Did I crumble Did you think I'd lay down and die?

Oh no, not.I. I will survive Oh as long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive; I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give and I'll survive,

I will survive. Hey hey. It took all the strength I had not to fall apart Kept trying' hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart, And I spent oh so many nights

Cynthia strutted towards me and we faced each other as we play, it looked like a mini battle of sorts. It was really fun until Crystal stepped away from the piano and came in between us.

Just feeling sorry for myself. I used to cry But now I hold my head up high And you see me somebody new I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you,

And so you feel like droppin' in And just expect me to be free, Now I'm savin' all my lovin' for someone who's lovin' me Go on now.. etc.

We finished the song and the crowd cheered as the judges wrote down our scores, the Pageboy judge motioned for us to go off stage and some guys came on stage to move our drums. Backstage was Roger and John, when Tammy saw him, she ran over to him, took his face and kissed him as hard as she could. Heartbreak. ̶I̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶a̶ ̶p̶a̶n̶g̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶j̶e̶a̶l̶o̶u̶s̶y̶.̶  I was fine, I wasn't ready for their outburst, but when I saw John I gave him the biggest hug I could muster up at the moment.

"You were absolutely divine Y/N!" John hugged me again, I saw Roger look over his face faltered.  ̶S̶u̶c̶c̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶.

"Next Up is Queen."

John let go of me, "I'll see you after? Right?"

"Of course, good luck."

I stood by the stage to watch them preform, Roger glanced at me he had a cigarette in his mouth. Freddie sashayed over to the mic with a tambourine.

"What song will you be preforming." a different judge spoke up, he was wearing an ugly mustard color hat.

Brian spoke into the mic, "An original song call, "Keep Yourself Alive."

"Whenever you're ready."

"Before we start," Roger then spoke into his mic, "We have two new people we forgot to introduce last time, some people have been curious on who they were. We have a new bassist John Deacon." Many people cheered, "We also have a new singer Freddie B-Bulsara." Less people cheered, but I clapped for Freddie. My heart wrenched when I heard two or three comments insulting him. Absolute wankers. Roger counted them off.

I was told a million times Of all the troubles in my way Mind you grow a little wiser Little better every day But if I crossed a million rivers And I rode a million miles Then I'd still be where I started Bread and butter for a smile Well I sold a million mirrors In a shopping alley way But I never saw my face In any window any day Now they say your folks are telling you Be a super star But I tell you just be satisfied Stay right where you are

Keep yourself alive, yeah Keep yourself alive Ooh, it'll take you all your time and money Honey you'll survive

Freddie struggled with the microphone and people stifled laughs, he was perfect last performance. The audacity of these people thinking they know so much. Before I knew it he had ripped the microphone from the stand and had half of the mic in his hand, from time to time he beat it with his tambourine. He got so into it Brian had to remind him of the lyrics, he's a true showman. 

Well I've loved a million women In a belladonic haze And I ate a million dinners Brought to me on silver trays Give me everything I need To feed my body and my soul And I'll grow a little bigger Maybe that can be my goal I was told a million times Of all the people in my way How I had to keep on trying And get better every day But if I crossed a million rivers And I rode a million miles Then I'd still be where I started Same as when I started

Keep yourself alive, come on Keep yourself alive Ooh, it'll take you all your time and money honey You'll survive, shake

John started to dance while preforming, it was the cutest thing ever, I think Roger saw me looking at him because he started to play harder and looked at me. I started to dance along, our band should start doing some of our own songs too, the people seem to like it.

Keep yourself alive, wow Keep yourself alive Oh, it'll take you all your time and money To keep me satisfied

Do you think you're better every day? No, I just think I'm two steps nearer to my grave

Keep yourself alive, c'mon Keep yourself alive Mm, you take your time and take more money Keep yourself alive Keep yourself alive C'mon keep yourself alive All you people keep yourself alive Keep yourself alive C'mon c'mon keep yourself alive It'll take you all your time and a money To keep me satisfied Keep yourself alive Keep yourself alive All you people keep yourself alive Take you all your time and money honey You will survive

Keep you satisfied

The song finished and everyone cheered even the idiots from before. John came off stage all sweaty and tried to hug me, I squealed and tried to run, but he caught up to me. I may or may not have kissed him. Freddie found us and gawked over the fact that Deaky would "do such a thing." Somehow he also found out I was staying at John's and he turned it into a group sleepover. There goes my night and now Roger's probably going to ruin it even more.

We packed up all of our belongings and drove to John's house. After we were there for around an hour someone found alcohol and half of us got drunk. John and I were together on his couch, both covered in his blanket. Roger was drinking across the room just staring at us as Tammy was dancing with Crystal and Brian. Freddie and Cynthia were already asleep in John's guest bedrooms, he had a lot of those surprisingly. The night dragged on and by two Roger and Tammy were on the front steps making out.

John and were almost asleep, but wanted to finish the Star Trek episode we were on before sleeping. We heard the front door slam and Tammy tried to start up a conversation about the artwork in John's house, but all of us couldn't hold onto the topic. My eyes drooped and John had to rub my back to keep me awake. Once the show ended I stood up and started to clean up. John showed the pair to the room next to ours, that could be a mistake. Before I knew it I was snuggling with Deaky, what I didn't see was Roger standing by the door watching us.

Tag List: 

@onceuponadetectivedemigod @cosmiclunas

[spookypastatoo]

Hanging Man Hill

Gaston, South Carolina is a lonely little place. Sitting just south of Columbia along 321, it’s just a small crumb off of the misshapen piece of pie on the United States plate that we call South Carolina. Its population has almost never gone over two thousand, and it is only 3.4 square miles across in all directions. It feels even lonelier when you come in from a place like Roanoke, Virginia.

After Mom lost her job, we moved to the only place where the rest of our family resided – good ol’ South Cackalacky. I had been moping on the trip the whole time on the way down here. The way I saw it, the only friends I was going to be making here were fire ants and that inferno of a sun. Once we got settled in at 304 Dixiana Drive (I always remembered the address because the number in it was carved into the driveway, and it spelled “hoe” if you looked at it upside down), I immediately set out into the neighborhood in search of friends. I didn’t know how to ride a bike at the time and I barely knew how to ride a skateboard, so I petered down a long stretch of road directly across from the front of the house on my cheap little Wal-Mart board until I came to a small cul-de-sac that seemed to go uphill. Sitting outside on his front porch was a chubby kid with glasses that looked about ten or eleven, about my age at the time. I really had no one else to talk to, so I asked what his name was and he told me that it was Terry. He liked being outside a lot and I didn’t, but we both seemed to like video games. With that, we would get along just fine. There was one thing that he hadn’t told me over the next few weeks that we spent riding around the neighborhood: he was into scary movies.

I was a massive chicken when it came to anything that seemed intent on forcing you to change your underwear every five minutes, so I didn’t really like this aspect of him. Even worse, he had tons of horror movie action figures and loads of VHS tapes of all the creepy movies you could think of stacked in his room. Every time I came to visit, he was almost certain to scare the living bejeezus out of me with one of those creepy Freddy Kreuger dolls or force me to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre with him in the dark. His room wasn’t really that nice-looking to begin with. He had a bunk bed (he was an only child, and only his grandmother lived with him) in which he slept on the bottom and all his slasher flicks and action figures slept on top. There were loads of holes in the walls and everything had a generally grimy feel to it. It made those horrifying moments of watching pure terror in the dark all the more… icky. One day, when he realized that I pretty much hated any kind of horror movies he threw at me, he began telling me urban legends. Some of them were about the town as a whole, but more often than not, they were about our particular neighborhood. I didn’t really believe any of them. That is, until he told me about Hanging Man Hill.

It was about a year after we had met each other and we were riding around the neighborhood (by this time, Terry had told me to “man up” and he had eventually taught me how to ride a bike). He stopped when we were riding in front of a house we had simply entitled “The Crack Shack” due to its residents being stoned out of their minds on a regular basis. He seemed to be peering out at a small pathway behind the place that went up the farther you went back. He was usually the leader when it came to showing me new places in the neighborhood, so I didn’t question a thing when he beckoned for me to follow him up the trail. It was a pretty steep climb up the side of the hill, with plenty of sand and rocks to send anyone not being careful straight back down. It felt as though the trees were closing tighter and tighter on us until we reached a large opening at the top. Besides the empty soda bottles and used condoms, the only manmade thing in the area that I could see were long stretches of telephone poles going across a series of sandy, dry hills. If not for the two strips of heavy forest on either side of these hills, it might have gone on forever.

The area didn’t seem to have any particular importance. I had expected him to bring me to some awful cemetery, but in the dying light of the late afternoon sky, those rolling hills looked beautiful. I thought that me might try some desperate last attempt to scare me, but instead, he just turned to me with the most serious and grim face I’d ever seen on him. “Here we are. Hanging Man Hill,” he whispered. “Hanging Man Hill? Is this another one of your stories?” “Sort of. Except, this one’s true.” I rolled my eyes at the thought. How did he possibly expect me to believe any of his stories? He just kept staring at me with that face, waiting for me to respond. “How could this even be a ‘Hanging Man Hill’? There’s no hanging man, and there’s at least five dozen hills here!” “Right down there. Look.” He pointed his finger toward the nearest telephone pole, sitting between the two closest hills to us. A small creek, no more than five feet across, ran between the two hills and went onward into that never-ending forest. There was no hanging man, but the pole itself seemed more ominous than the rest. “Roy Terrance,” he whispered. “Who?” “It wouldn’t be Hanging Man Hill without a hanging man, would it?”

He bolted down the first hill on that blazing orange bike of his. I tried to keep up, but Wal-Mart and sporting goods don’t seem to mix. There was a faulty chain on my cheap dull red bike. The sticks from the surrounding trees had rooted themselves to the ground and were now snagging on the dangling chain. With one mighty tug of a huge root on the bike, I was head over handlebars all the way to the bottom. I landed on my knees with a small sploosh sound as my legs hit the water. It couldn’t have been more than a few inches deep. I almost called for help from Terry when I realized that he had stopped at the bottom just before I had tumbled to the creek alongside him. His head was peering upwards, looking straight at the top of that dark and shadowy-looking telephone pole. “Little help?” I squeaked. Terry broke his gaze with the pole just long enough to wrench me from the creek and get me to my feet. After that, his stare continued to be fixed on seemingly nothing at the top of the pole for the longest time. “What is it – or who – that you’re looking for again?” I grumbled in frustration. I was going to be pretty pissed if he had taken me down here and all I had gotten out of the trip was a banged-up knee. I hadn’t noticed the pain before because the water in the stream was cool, but now it stung like the dickens.

“Roy Terrance. Owner of that small shed just beyond the trees over there.” I hadn’t noticed the shed before. It sat just behind a large oak. It couldn’t have been bigger than five outhouses put together. “After his wife and kid left him, he hung himself on the wires just above us. Cops didn’t find much, just a charred husk of what used to be a man. Legend says that whoever is out here at his exact time of death gets strung up on the wires with him.” “Oh, and do tell, when would that be?” For once, he broke his serious tone to give me a goofy “I dunno!” shrug, and then he was back to that grim attitude. “And you’re suggesting that we stay here and wait for him? Despite the many excuses I have to dispute this, I think I’m going to go with ‘It’s late and mom is making dinner, so I have to go home.’” “Fine. Tell your mom that you’re sleeping over at my house tomorrow night, and I’ll do vice versa with my gramma. Meet me here at seven.”

Against my better judgement, I decided that I might as well come. What harm could it do? Obviously, he was lying and if nothing else, it would set my mind at ease to see that he was. While none of his stories actually seemed to be true up until this point, his sudden change of tone had made it slightly more believable. When he had told his other stories, he was giggling so hard that one might think that he had snorted at least a pound of Happy Crack. When we were headed home, just as the last tint of orange had left the sky, I asked him, "Why did you get so serious back there? You’re always such a total goofball.” “I lost my grandpa to Roy Terrance. My gramma was with him when it happened. Haven’t you ever wondered why she’s so grumpy all the time?” His grandmother was, in fact, very crotchety. I had never bothered to ask why she was that way. If this was all some elaborate hoax by Terry, I was going to slap him into next Thursday when it was done. That night, I had a horrible nightmare. Like most people, I couldn’t remember much about it, but it had Roy Terrance written all over it. Even though it was roasting on that hot South Carolina night, I had woken up with the chills.

By the time 6 PM had rolled around, I had already packed my old school backpack with basic equipment like a flashlight and a few bags of Chex Mix in case we got hungry. By 6:30, I had rolled out into the neighborhood as fast as an overweight 11-year-old could. I had to admit, I was actually pretty excited. Finally, at around 6:55, I arrived at the small creek where Terry had already set up a small fire and was roasting marshmallows. If I hadn’t decided to show up, I would have disappointed him like hell. “How exactly is this going to work out? Are we just going to camp out here all night? We don’t know when he’s supposed to show up,” I said. “Er’ll wert erl nert hurr erf er herft ter.” He had stuffed his face with a marshmallow. “What?” He crammed the marshmallow down his throat. “I said, I’ll wait here all night if I have to.” “Whatever,” I retorted as I plopped down next to his fire (he had thrown three lighters in to keep it lit) and began to pull out my snacks.

After about three hours, the first of the crickets had begun to sing their endless chirping song as the last streak of sun had reached its end. I had begun to grow irritated, and a little bit tired. Terry was wide awake, his hand glued to the bag of marshmallows. He had begun his eternal gaze on the top of the pole again. “Terry…? Man, I’m tired. If I don’t see a crispy dead dude in the next hour, I’m out.” “Mmmfkay.” His cheek stuck out like a squirrel’s with another marshmallow. I snuggled up to the fire and began to doe off. Just as I was about to slip into unconsciousness, a loud, crusty, brittle peeling sound echoed through the hills and out into the forest. I immediately sat up. My vision was pretty blurred form having almost dozed off, but I could make out Terry’s shape. He was gaping, wide-eyed, at the top of the pole. If there had been a bit of moonlight, I might have seen what I was sure to have seen up there, but the crescent moon sat beyond the trees, like the shed. In an instant, Terry was on his bike and flying up the hill, bag of marshmallows in hand. I managed to pull myself up and get to my bike. I began peddling like a madman when I realized that my chain had popped off. Stupid damn bike. With my eyes adjusting to the dark, I peered back at the top of the pole one more time before I bolted to the top of the hill.

Roy Terrance was not so much of a person as he was a sagging shape. His flesh, dark as the night, was clinging to his bones for dear life. His facial features, though not entirely evident, seemed to be in a constant state of both agony and ecstatic joy. And that eye… that one eye he had left, deep in its socket, gazed upon me with absolute hatred and insatiable want. Just when it seemed that he was ready to climb off of the wire and come for me, the weak spine that had been holding his head to that molten pile of flesh and bones snapped, sending what was left of his skull tumbling into the fire Terry had started. It gave me one glowing, burning satisfied grin before disintegrating into a wisp of ash. I had been halfway up the hill before I had realized I was moving. I followed the bike tracks Terry had left, which led further into the hills instead of off to the side, where the trail led back to the neighborhood. Just as I clawed my way to the top of the hill, I saw a thin shape, dangling from above. “Oh no,” I croaked.

Terry’s bike, that blazing orange bike that he loved so much, was left wrecked at the base of a telephone pole. Above, Terry’s body hung limply. Although, it didn’t look much like Terry anymore. Terry hadn’t been on the wires as long as Roy, which made it even worse. He was charred, but not entirely. His eyes bulged from his head in constant shock. What was left of his hair stood on end, still smoking. The seemingly endless wires above entangled Terry’s neck like a boa constrictor. Dangling from his scrawny, burnt little arm was a bag of marshmallows, melted to his hand from the heat.

The police investigation didn’t dig up much. They had scoured all throughout the area and had not found any evidence that anyone was ever there. I begged them to search the telephone wires, but they continued to state that there was no evidence that anybody had even touched the wires. The search continued for three weeks. After police had finally given up, Terry’s grandmother passed away. For those last few days, she hadn’t said anything to anyone at all. She only sat and stared at a picture of her and her husband for the remainder of her life. After the house had been cleared out, the contents of Terry’s room were offered to me. His entire collection of horror movies, action figures and all else were donated to Goodwill. My request. I went back a few years later. We had gone to Gaston to visit with our family for a while, and I had requested that we stop by the neighborhood. Any evidence that we had ever been there those few fateful years ago had been swept away by police or the weather. Now, like before, there was only useless garbage and telephone poles. Just as I was getting ready to walk away, I caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. I only saw a tiny bit of it before it fluttered away. It was a melted marshmallow bag.