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musedblues · 4 years

Text

We’ll Be Alright

Summary: The heart wants what the heart wants. Roger seems to live by that motto. You're certain he has more than enough. But he's determined to prove you wrong.

w/c: 12k (oops?)

a/n: Here it is! My LOC Event Fic for the wonderful darling @brianandthemays 🌈 This is my first time publishing something for Roger, so I'm a bit anxious, but mostly excited! I sincerely hope you enjoy this lovie 💖 Thanks to @dtfrogertaylor for hosting another fun event! Without further ado...

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Freddie escorted you through the doors of his favorite overpriced coffee shop, a Thursday afternoon tradition. Like always, you followed behind your friend and complained about the things that had gone wrong all week since the last Thursday like this one.

"...And not only did my internship get canceled, but they dropped the whole production. Now it's too late for me to sign up to any other until the fall." You fretted all the way to the back of the place, plopping down in a booth across from Freddie. He was entirely overdressed for the casual occasion, but you'd be worried if he wasn't.

"Well, you think you've got it bad, dear, we're on an actual fucking deadline for once. We have to record in two months and we have no songs, and no place to stay and rehearse for a month. All our neighbors have had enough." Freddie waved his hand and widened his eyes, only trying to relate to you by airing out his own misfortunes.

"You're kidding, right?" You narrowed your eyes as Freddie waited for you to make clear what you thought was already obvious. That's when a barista brought out your usual drinks. The staff had come to expect you and Freddie to twirl in like clockwork and order the same drinks at the same time each week. So eventually, someone started making your orders ahead of time.

"Decaf tea and a piping hot black coffee." A familiar girl placed mismatched cups between yourself and Freddie. Your feather haired friend bowed to the barista who laughed on her spin the other direction.

"Fred!" You snapped his attention back on you, wrapping your fingers around the steaming mug.

"My dad owns that countryside villa in Surrey." You reminded. "Well, it's more of a done up farmhouse. But, still." The countryside getaway was more quaint than Romanesque, but it was big enough for a band. Freddie's obsidian eyes sparkled, maybe with remembrance, but you couldn't tell past the obvious hope that flooded his gaze.

"Oh, darling. Do you think we could come and stay for a while? We just need a place to write and rehearse before we record. Could you help?"

"I'll see what I can do. We have a big empty barn where you could set up your instruments to practice." You shrugged, taking a sip of your tea.

"You'd save my life darling, you'd absolutely be my queen." Freddie fawned.

"Yeah yeah, some friends we are. I've talked about spending summers in Surrey more than anything. Do you even know me?" You dramatically provoked, sticking your lip out for show.

"I know that you always order decaf tea. And that your dad owns a place in Surrey. And that I'd do anything for you if we got to stay."

"You're in luck... I haven't got anything better to do this year!" You laughed, albeit a little somberly. You had always loved wasting away summers in the countryside. But, until recently, you'd finally been an arm's length away from dipping your toes into the metaphorical waters of your dream job. You'd finally felt like the future was at your doorstep, and it was all canceled in the blink of an eye.

///

You followed Freddie home from the coffee shop, at his behest. When the sunset, he and his three best friends were scheduled to put on a show. And according to Freddie, you needed something new and fun to wear. At the foot of his bed, he tossed dresses and tops and scarves over his shoulder, digging in an old chest for something your style. You leaned against his pillows, laughing as your friend argued with himself while matching patterns.

From behind Freddies halfway shut bedroom door, you heard the front lock turn and a bright giggle you didn't recognize echo into the flat.

"Roger's home." Freddie looked up to you, holding out a dress and jacket to imagine how it might fit your form.

"That doesn't sound much like Roger." You laughed, posing in place as Freddie held up another outfit. With a look, he moved to click his bedroom door shut.

"You're right. It sounds like Ivy. Who I'm sure is a fine girl, but is entirely wrong for Roger." Freddie tossed a floral number your way as he shut the lid of the chest decidedly. You let out an "Ah," of understanding moving to change your outfit.

"Is anybody right for Roger?" You chuckled, thinking to the few long evenings you'd spent getting to know Queen's drummer. He was deadly funny, and jarringly good looking. With an overload of talent and style, you recognized Mr. Taylor as one of the most sought after bachelors in the region- using the word bachelor loosely. He always seemed to have a lady on his arm. At least one girl was hot on Rogers trail each time you'd been near him.

"Well, yes." Freddie sang, leafing through his own closet. "He needs someone driven in their own right. Someone willing to deal with all the pressures of Roger being a superstar, because you know darling, we're going to be famous one day. Someone who will be happy for him. Someone he can be just as proud of."

You halfway listened as you shimmied into the outfit your dear friend picked just for you. It fit quite nicely, even with the back still unzipped. Freddie had thrown on a yellow and black striped jacket before he sauntered over your way.

"Someone quite like you, if I'm honest." Freddie seemed to confess as he zipped you into style. He barely got the chance before you spun to face him, holding back a barking laugh.

"You can't be serious." You began, watching Freddie feign innocence. "Freddie. No. You're scheming I can tell!" You pointed as your friend spun out of your way. Where was all this coming from?

"I don't know what you're on about, love." Freddie sighed, grabbing a pair of sunglasses. "I'll leave things between you and Rog to figure out yourselves." He reached for the door with a shrug.

"There isn't anything between us to discuss!" You laughed, in a bit of shock at the prospect of this conversation you hadn't seen coming at all. You'd never had more than a few casual conversations with Roger. Freddie seemed to drop it, spinning into the main room to get the show on the road.

Roger was there, lounging with a pretty little hippie lady decked out in lace. Freddie called for the pair to get up and get going- it was time to head toward soundcheck.

"Rog, before we leave, pay some respect to the lovely y/n. She's going to save our lives this summer!" Freddie fawned, ignoring your previous discussion, trying to start a fire that you never realized had the potential to burn.

As Roger led his date out the door, he stalled to greet you for the night.

"Nice dress, love." Roger's familiar rasp was gentle past his grossly over-rehearsed line. His saucer eyes raked up your figure in a way you'd seen him do to others, but never to you, until now.

"Thank Freddie." You spoke through your teeth, turning away from Roger to hide your blush and shoot your glare to the frontman who was already biting back an "I told you so."

///

You could count the evenings you'd spent with Queen on a couple of hands. But the days you spent with Freddie were in the hundreds by now. He was your closest friend, someone you meditated with, cried with. Someone who might have known you better than you knew yourself. And on occasion, some of Fred's bandmates would join in on the fun.

John had become accustomed to accompanying you and Fred on Thursdays for coffee and tea. You liked John's ideas and the way was keen to listen to you and Freddie banter more than he joined in to do the same. When John spoke, it was decidedly. A wit filled joke, or a valuable point, John hardly uttered any passing thought; unless, of course, he was absolutely hammered.

Brian would sometimes join you and Freddie before shows for dinner, or on rainy Sunday afternoons to play Scrabble and dream of the future. You admired the things that mattered to Brian and how fiercely he protected the value of the things he spoke of, big and small.

Then there was Roger. He was always around, in the other room, at the back of the stage, at the end of the night. But he usually kept company of his own. And the times he joined in for Scrabble or lunch, he was usually too preoccupied with whoever he brought along. But there were odd exceptions- when Freddie had fallen asleep and Rogers dates would leave for the evening- when you'd share a drink in the kitchen and traded updates on your week.

Times like then, you noticed Roger's gaze was hypnotic. You didn't think it was a power he used manically. You figured it was a trait that came naturally, the inherent draw of his piercing blue eyes. It must have been what made all the girls line up like ducklings and follow Roger around for their turn at wooing him. He was always kind to them, and a few times you wondered if he might have fallen in love. But then another would follow the last and you decided that Roger must have been happiest dating around, meeting all kinds of people with all kinds of stories to share. Such was the way of a man who dreamed of touring the world, singing about it, and the lot.

///

"Do you own any wellies?" You asked, twirling your mustard yellow phone cord around your index, studying your grossly overpacked suitcase.

Freddie's response of laughter was rich and crackly through the other line.

"I'm just saying... that you're bound to muck up those ballet flats of yours when you and the boys come to stay in Surrey in a week."

"You serious? We can come and stay? Oh, how shall I ever repay you?" Freddie shrieked into your ear. You held the receiver back with a grin as you tossed a couple of sweaters on the floor in hopes your suitcase would better zip closed. Freddie promised you he was on his knees, shouting thanks into the phone. You promised you'd see him soon, gave him the last of the info he needed, and managed to seal your bag shut.

///

You swore you could smell the freshness in the air, see the vibrant hue of the trees through clearer eyes. The house in Surrey your father called a villa, was the place you spent most summers.

Until the last few summers in a row, the summer palace was a place your extended family came to stay for a month or two. You'd all get together and kick around the countryside for a while, forgetting petty worries and putting off all the responsibilities you could manage. You hadn't missed a summer yet, but each one became quieter, less action-packed. Last year it was only yourself and your parents who spent a while enjoying the quiet getaway.

But you always had Mona. The old, cheery, pale-haired woman hired to come around on the weekends to help keep order about the place. You always insisted she stay and enjoy a day or two of peace when her work was done. Mona always accepted the offer, much to your delight. When there was nothing left for her to do, she gave in to your pleas to help bake ridiculously complicated recipes or to simply keep you company in the quiet for a while. You and Mona would lose yourselves in conversation while cooking meals and enjoying days where you did nothing but track the rise and fall of the sun in the sky.

Then there was Otto. He was your only neighbor for miles, right across the road, behind his own mess of trees. Otto was only a few years older than you, and when his parents left the property, he gladly took it over with big plans of his own. After Otto had landscaped his home to his heart's content, your father hired him to come and spruce up your family's property. Even if that hadn't ever happened, you'd already made a habit of inviting Otto over for dinners and game nights. You imaged going it alone in the depths of the country had to be lonely so many months in a row.

Last summer, Otto made miraculous headway on your property's garden. He planted new trees, fixed up your old windows, and even built a chicken coop, something that provided a bit of entertainment for you, but became your neighbor's pride and joy.

He'd stop over every day, even if it was just to check on the chickens. And following close in Otto's stride from across the road, was his pet retriever, Pepper. Otto never minded when you stole his pet for walks through the trails you'd worn between trees in the distant forest, over the years.

In fact, the golden pup was always the first one to greet you every summer. The tradition held fast even now, as you pulled into the gravel drive. You spotted her yellow form zooming from out of nowhere at all, barking to greet you.

"Hi Pepper!" You chimed after collecting your luggage. You dropped to your knees at the edge of the drive as the dog bound your way. She was nearly eight years old, or was it nine, now? Pepper pranced in time with you as you made your way to the countryside home for another year in a row.

"Your dog missed you especially, this year." Otto's familiar accent drifted from the porch, where he appeared to stand painting the entry doorway. He dropped his brush and turned to watch you ease up the steps, with a smile.

"I missed her too." You smiled, rolling your eyes at the decade-old joke. The pup belonged to Otto but she was always hot on your heels, usually leaving her owner far behind whenever you were near.

"Ah yes, she has been sneaking in and sleeping on your bed. Hope you don't mind the extra layer of fur tonight." Your mother popped her head in the doorway, careful not to touch the fresh paint. She waved you inside, insisting Otto follow along. Apparently dinner was ready.

The home was as cozy as ever, long wooden halls and big comfy furniture. Your father was sat at the kitchen table, sorting through a stack of mail. Behind him your old, dear friend. Mona abandoned her mission to reorganize the silverware drawer to wrap you in a big warm hug. The kind woman had always been like a grandmother to you. Between the company of her and Otto, your summers here were even more special and sought after.

"Alright, sit." Your father turned his eyes toward yours, gesturing for you to rest in the empty seat at his side.

"Nice to see you too, dad." You laughed, gazing to the mail set out before him.

"I've socked up on food and essentials for all your mates coming in a week. And since they are your friends, ya think you can handle staying here while mum and I go on our own summer holiday?"

Your father figured you could handle keeping order, and he made plans with your mother seem like a long time coming.

"I can phone your uncle to come help if you don't think you can manage it."

"How hard can serving tea and keeping the place clean be? I'll have Mona's help like always. And Otto's a great human security system. remember a few years back when he wrestled a man double his size, to the ground? Made him cry."

"Oh yeah, that guy! Pretended his car broke down and tried to break in." Your mother pointed with a shiver. Otto had spotted the stranger stalking toward your home in the middle of the night, and you all woke up to the sound of the two wrestling in the gravel driveway.

"I'm just a poor gardener, but I'll do what I have to." Otto declared as you all chuckled at the distant memory. Otto took a handful of dinner plates from your mother's grasp and offered to help set the table as you moved next to Mona to help finish make the first evening meal of the summer.

///

It was early enough for you to double-check everything three times. Living room tidy? Check. Snacks on the counter? Check. Extra blankets, pillows, and beer enough for a band full of divas? Check. All that was left to do was sit on the porch with Pepper at your feet, and wait.

You'd spend endless days doing just that, but you had never had something quite like this to look forward too. You'd brought some pals to stay, growing up, but this was different. You could almost sense that Queen's stay in your family's cherished getaway would be the marking of a time you'd remember more fondly than most.

Eventually, the sound of crunching gravel disrupted your daydreams of the future. You were quicker than Pepper at your feet, who followed behind on your bolt down the porch steps with a delighted squeal.

John was the first one to step out of the van when it pulled to a stop. You raced up to greet him with a hug, one he returned with a bit of shy reluctance, but genuine mirth all the same.

"You're here! You're here!" You cheered, noticing Brian as you broke your hug with the feather haired bass player. You couldn't be stopped from greeting the lanky guitar player with the same excitement, your hug ended when Freddie's voice called out;

"I'm here! Hug me!"

Freddie planted a kiss to your cheek as you flung yourself toward him with a smile. The band stretched their legs out onto the grass, remarking about the beauty of the countryside.

"Welcome, you." You looked to Freddie, whose brows rose high over his dark sunglasses, his smile glowing as he peered past your shoulder to take it all in.

"Don't I get a warm welcome?"

Roger's familiar rasp whined from a few paces behind. He was dressed in denim head to toe, and was wearing the most ridiculous hat you'd ever seen. It made your heart buzz with some odd adoration you hadn't expected to feel at the sight of him. Your strange sudden feelings made approaching the blonde seem newly nerve-wracking, but you were glad to see him. So you opened your arms and invited Roger into a hug, same as everybody else. But Roger wasn't everybody else, was he?

Ever expressive, Roger scooped you up and lifted your feet from the ground in gratitude as he said,

"We owe you our lives for making this happen!"

You laughed in surprise, letting out a little squeal as Roger stumbled in an attempt to spin you around.

"Rog, put her down! She's got to give us a tour of this place or we're bound to get lost. It's massive." Freddie barked.

Roger did as he was told, setting you on your feet with care. You pulled down the bill of Rogers silly hat and spun around to lead everyone inside.

As the boys entered your favorite place, you introduced them two at a time to your family and friends who hurried to greet them all the same. It was a mess of hello's and warm welcomes as you shut the door and stepped further inside.

Your father held an arm out to show the boys to their rooms, chatting away on his tour down the halls. Your mother lifted a brow and shoulder when her gaze met yours after lingering on the band as they walked away.

"You've got a fun summer ahead." She grinned as if she knew something was coming, something you couldn't see yet.

The next thing you knew, you were helping Mona finish making dinner. You were sent to find Otto in the forest of flowerbeds outside of the barn. The two of you walked up the hill after you invited him in for dinner, listening to Otto ramble about the plans your father talked him into, of starting a vegetable garden.

Your mother had already rounded up everyone else in the dining room, going on about how excited she was to get to know your friends. And to your surprise, she'd even broken out the fancy fine china.

Between Otto and Freddie, the usual security you felt in their company had only been on separate respective accounts. Your worlds colliding was something you hadn't expected to be so warmed by. As you ate, you realized all your favorite people were here in one lucky place.

Queen were ever themselves, interrupting one another to share stories with your parents and Mona who asked questions at breakneck speeds. And while the jokes and banter flew from one topic to another, you held your breath each time Roger spoke up. Because every time before now, Roger only spoke in playful tones, and daring one-liners. You expected him to say something that might have embarrassed you, even if that wasn't his goal, if he even had one. But Roger surprised you in a different way, one you hadn't expected.

He utterly charmed your mother with the way he spoke about his education and aspirations. He gained your father's respect sometime after you poured everyone a new drink. During dinner, Roger was... shy. No, not shy, respectable. Boyish. No, not boyish... forbearing in a way you'd never seen from him before. Maybe you didn't have Roger figured out after all...

///

Your room was full of things you loved, in the back of the house. You enjoyed the privacy, but seeking through the halls at odd hours was always a challenge you held your breath during. The wood creaked underfoot as you followed the beams of the rising sun through the halls, daring not to wake anyone.

You snuck toward the front door without a hitch, clicking it shut with care. When on the steps of the porch, you were surprised to find two of the boys had already risen and were sharing a smoke.

John and Roger turned their heads from the steps, smiles stretching when they saw you.

"The only time I've seen you two up this early was if you were still awake from the night before." You laughed, stretching into the new day.

"Never realized you were such an early riser, either." John spoke up, stamping out his cigarette.

"Things are different here." You shrugged, making your way down the steps between the two musicians.

"Where are you going?" Roger wondered. His hair was tangled from sleep, but the dark spots near his eyes suggested he'd only tossed and turned all night.

You found yourself searching his features for a beat too long, and only played it off by raising a brow and nodding for the boys to follow you, if they so desired.

And they did. As you rounded the back of your home, you stalled near the shed and grabbed a bucket from it's tried and true stop- then you headed for the chicken coop.

This was something you did every morning, you'd never missed one. Otto handled everything else, but he always let you help out if you pestered him enough.

"This is Otto's coop." You introduced the paint chipped structure as John and Roger chuckled in awe, the band had yet to have a proper tour of the grounds.

"He built it, and everything. But I come out here every morning, just gives me something to do." You waved for the boys to walk ahead of you, before you made it to the spot you stopped in every morning.

Chickens emerged like clockwork, and the boys went about chasing a couple around like little kids. One took a particular liking to John, flowing at the man's side, stopping when he stopped. And try as he might to bend down and reach out to a group of the birds, Roger had yet to score any over.

"Why don't they like me?" He whined while John laughed in response. And just like that one bird turned from the group and started flapping and clucking toward Roger, sick of being pestered. The blonde bolted to his feet with a yelp, skipping away until the chicken stopped chasing after him in a flurry.

"I'm scared, hold me." Roger reached out to you, wrapping his arms around your side. It was comforting, it felt like less of a joke than Roger made it seem. But when you turned your head to look at him, you wondered if Roger might have actually been a little distressed.

But he'd constricted your arms, and you couldn't hug him back. So you glanced back to the house and said,

"Come on, ya big baby."

Roger's grasp slowly loosened as you lead the way, but you could feel his eyes remain fixed on you.

"I'll keep you safe, big baby." John threw an arm around his friend's shoulders as the three of you started your trek back up the hill and around to the front porch. Roger let out a comical fake cry just before you made it inside to find Freddie and Brian reluctantly awake in the kitchen.

The boys gathered around the table while you scurried to make tea, and insisted they help themselves to anything in the cabinets. And it wasn't long before the rest of your parents emerged out into the new day, Mona popping out into the kitchen soon after.

Your father showed the band to the barn, and offered to help them unload their instruments in the big empty space. Your mother took the tea you poured for her and settled into the sunroom with Mona, where you joined the ladies to gossip about everything that happened since last summer.

Day's like today, there isn't much for Mona to do, but she still got paid for sitting around chatting with you. Though she'd likely turn down the extra cash at the end of the weekend, your dad would always sneak a few bills into her purse when she wasn't looking. You'd have to remember to do the same when you were left alone.

///

Your parents and Mona all left the next morning, and the week that followed was some kind of adventure- even with the little routine you'd found yourself in.

Brian ended up being the early bird, while the others milked every last bit of sleep they could get. When you awoke and found Brian reading in the small nook of the living room, you got to talking about something so in-depth that he followed up out to feed the chickens. And that's how most mornings all week had gone, chatting away in the early morning, meandering down the hill to the birdhouse with Bri at your side, prattling all the way back to where you came from.

One by one the boys would collect at the table to pick at the breakfast you'd gotten in the habit of making, before they drifted off to the barn.

You'd stay in to clean up, stalling near the open windows where you could hear your friends music drifting up the hill. They'd clatter through newborn songs and riffs that came together each time you stood to listen.

All week, you shared lunch with Freddie. In the sunroom, on the porch, wherever as long as you were together to chat like you usually would once a week at the coffee shop. And throughout your newly established daily lunch meetups, Freddie began making liberal use of his drummer's name. "Roger this," "Roger that," The blonde started taking up more space in your conversations than most other topics.

"What's with all this talk about your friend, huh?" You challenged Freddie, reaching for some fruit on a plate you shared between the two of you.

"Surely you've caught on by now, love. He's quite taken with you?" Freddie nonchalantly responded, reaching for an apple slice of his own.

"And surely if that was the case, Roger would have made that clear by now. He flirts in place of breathing." You chuckled.

"Then he must really like you. I've never known him to get so tongue-tied. Even when he's talking about you, which he never stops doing." Freddie shrugged, looking off in the direction of the warm breeze. You both stayed silent for a beat, your excuse- searching for what to say next. But Freddie found more words before you could.

"I think he would be happy with you. And I think you'd be happy with him. I just want you both to be happy."

"Well, so long as we've all got you Fred, I'm sure we will be." You grinned, truly meaning it. You and Freddie clinked your apple slices together in a toast, more like a truce to drop the subject, for now anyway.

Then as the sun burned, you meandered poolside, making Otto cease digging in the dirt long enough to ask how his day was going and distract him from work just long enough to share a few laughs.

You'd always ask him to take Pepper out, and he always insisted you didn't need to ask. You'd wander toward the forest with your furry friend, enjoying a bit of quiet. You used to bring books and pencils along when you had nothing better to do than sit against a tree and dream of the future. But this year, you keep calling Pepper back the way you came at the end of the trail, in a hurry back to check in with your friends.

When night fell after long dinners full of more chatter than food, everyone decided they'd seen enough of each other. That's when you and John would steal away the sunroom, and play cards moonlight. Sometimes you wouldn't speak much at all. And sometimes you'd share secrets, wishes you thought anyone else might make fun of you for dreaming of.

And all week, when you least expected it, you kept ending up next to Roger.

The blonde would ask to sit out on the porch with you, where you curled up in a rocking chair to read. He would ease onto the wooden steps and scribble away in his notebook, crossing out lyrics and penning new ones. He'd never tell you what he was writing, and you never asked. But you heard him humming under his breath, and you missed the gentle sound when you were called back in by Freddie for one reason or another.

Roger would find you again eventually, though. He'd leaf through the books in your living room, asking about every author. He'd appear at your side at the table during every meal, even the ones everyone ate in a hurry before scurrying off to rehearse.

One afternoon he surprised you by the side of the pool, when no one else was around. Though you had started to prepare to see Roger around when you least expected it, it was always a pleasant surprise.

"How's rehearsal today?" You asked, looking up from where you sat with your feet dangling in the water. Roger squinted your way, the shadows on his face illuminated by the hot summer sun. It wasn't until you patted the space beside you that Roger spoke up, and slowly moved to join where you sat.

"Freddie called for a break. Writer's block, or something."

You hummed in understanding, watching Roger relax at your side. And after another look your way, maybe to check if you were actually keen on listening, he went on...

"I think we've all got a hit up our sleeves. Now if we could just all agree on one thing for one minute." Roger laughed, crossing his legs, reaching in the pool to grab the stem of a leaf that floated by.

Right then, Freddie stormed around the corner. He called off practice for the rest of the afternoon and declared he planned to lock himself in his room to finish writing.

When the door shut decidedly behind Freddie, you and Roger burst into shared laughter. And for another hour at least, you stayed right where you were. Roger told you about the songs he was writing. And the songs the others were writing. He asked what you would rather be doing, because surely, staying in the middle of no place with the lads of Queen around every corner, couldn't have been at the top of your list. You assured that it was, in fact. But you still somehow started to talk about how disappointed you had been to lose out on the opportunity to live your dreams, this summer. You talked about what you wanted and why you wanted it. Roger listened and asked questions he seemed truly interested in hearing the answers too. What was the harm in sharing a few more laughs?

///

The next day at breakfast, everyone was called to order by Freddie, who relaxed at the head of the table with some announcement to make. He sat in uncharacteristic patience as his friends filled up on orange juice and yammered about what they planned to accomplish that afternoon. When Brian went off on some sorry muttering over whose songs were better or worse, you and Roger locked eyes, and dulled the same sort of snicker. You were both thinking the same thing- thinking back to the conversation you had most of yesterday.

"Alright! Listen!" Freddie demanded. "We're taking a break today. We're going to lounge poolside, and gossip about trivial things. And if anyone starts to argue about recording or writing or what you bloody want to wear on stage, you'll be swiftly excommunicated to the chicken coop. Got it?"

There was little push back and soon the lot of you abandoned your breakfast to head outback.

The boys zoomed ahead of you, tossing their things into the places they claimed as their own. John sat at the small iron table under the cool shade of the umbrella and cracked open a magazine. Brian set up his things on a beach chair and was the first to creep toward the pool. Freddie checked his hair in a small compact mirror as he kicked off his sandals. And Roger raced straight for the deep end, splashing you with water on his dive in the water.

You yelped in surprise, shocked by the cold.

"Come in!" Roger chirped after emerging to the surface.

"It's a bit cold isn't it?" You laughed, setting your things on a chair nearby.

"There," Roger intentionally splashed water at your feet. "Now you ought to be used to it. Come in!"

You reluctantly sat on the edge to dip your feet in as Roger waded toward where you settled. You turned your eyes to the water to avoid ogling the drummer, your throat going dry at the sight of his mostly bare frame so close to yours.

"I supposed it's not as cold as I thought." You cleared your throat, more so trying to keep your own cool. He hummed, still inching his way closer, making your cheeks burn.

And then, he was pulling you in. Roger yanked you from the edge, keeping a sturdy hold around you to ensure you didn't go under. You felt strangely comfortable and secure in his arms, in all the commotion. But you were still surprised enough to splash water in Roger's direction, a pitiful attempt to get back at him.

"We're meant to be relaxing!" Brian reprimanded, dodging the water you were splattering his way on accident.

"Exactly, Bri, do calm down." Freddie teased as he walked down the steps to join the rest of you.

"Deacy! Darling! You can read later, come enjoy the sun while it's here!"

And just like that, Freddie's wishes came true. The people he loved circled around your favorite old pool, gossiping about trivial things and hardly mentioned making music at all. It was the perfect summer day.

Eventually, you decided to get out to fix lunch for everyone. On your walk toward the house, you found Otto hunched over a broken wagon wheel, skin tanned from years under the same summer sky. You demanded he took a break and joined the lot of you for a much needed day of nothing but fun. He agreed, but only if you'd let him help throw food together.

When the pair of you toted trays of bite-sized lunch foods out to the nearest shade, the band of boys casually flocked to join you, scattering about the shade and fueling up to float around some more. Otto gave everyone a lesson on the kind of trees you sat under. Brian took a beer back to the deep end, Freddie following close behind, muttering something about catching the last of the day's sun. John offered to carry the empty trays back in, where he planned to head for a much-needed nap, swearing he planned to beat you at cards later.

Then there was Roger, who sulked between you and the rest of his friends. He sat near you, keeping his mouth full of beer as you chatted with Otto about all the times you'd enjoyed the pool most, before. And when Roger eventually joined Freddie and Brian in the pool, the blonde kept casting looks your way, gazes no one missed.

"He's a bit mad about you isn't he?" Otto pointed out in a hush, sipping his own beer while you scoffed a laugh.

"That's just how Roger is. He can't help himself. There's usually a line of girls waiting around for him. I must be his last resort, out here in the middle of nowhere." You explained, shifting your weight in your seat and pretending you didn't notice the drummers glances your way.

"Oh please, if that was true he'd be trying to to make you blush, right now. He's resorted to lovestruck gazes, and the occasional glare my way. That man likes you." Otto chuckled, pointing his beer can toward the boys in the pool. "Trust me I'm a guy, I know what's happening."

"That's dumb." You shot Otto a look over the top of your sunglasses. "Roger is my friend." At least you were pretty sure he was. "And I know that's just how he is." You knew that for a fact.

///

The next morning you'd woken to a silent house, and found the halls were still even upon your return from feeding the chickens. You shrugged into the kitchen, realized it was a little earlier than usual, and fixed yourself some decaf tea. When the kettle rang, the hallway creaked, and you cringed on your hurry to quiet things down again.

Roger appeared in the doorway, looking as if he was still trying to wake from a dream.

"Sorry if I woke you I-"

"It's okay, you're fine." Roger murmured, easing into the room, buttoning up his undone nightshirt.

"Fancy a cup? Mona should be here any minute, we usually start the day with tea." You explained, pouring your own drink and biting your lip.

"You wouldn't mind if I joined?" Roger asked, like you'd just invited him on some grand adventure.

"Course not." You chuckled, reaching for two more cups.

You and Roger were halfway through your tea before Mona showed up. You sat together in the sunroom, where you and your much older friend usually settled at the start of every weekend. Roger asked you'd had any dreams while you slept, and you prompted him to tell of any he might have conjured.

When Mona showed up, she eased across the small table from you like always, but in place of gossip, she spoke mostly to Roger. She asked about his hobbies and he asked about her life. Roger loved getting to know people, you knew. He was always so genuinely interested in hearing what made everyone tick. When he asked Mona about her loves and losses, she'd spoke in a vulnerable way you'd never seen from her prior. Ah, of course. Roger had that way with people, like the second anyone locked eyes with his sea-blue pair, they were in trance.

And while Mona looked after Roger as he spoke, the blonde kept turning to you, asking for details of the week he couldn't quite recall, and begging you to tell a certain story he swore you had a better perspective of.

When the rest of the band showed up, they traded sweet good mornings with your guest just before pulling Roger out into the barn to pick up where they left off the day before last.

"Now what's all that about?" Mona wondered, pouring the two of you more tea, initiating a more personal one on one chat. You cast her a perplexed gaze as she settled across from you, uttering Roger's name like you should have already been thinking of it.

You knew then that Mona was curious about all the too long gazes and nervous chuckles Roger was reduced to during the quiet morning visit at your side.

"That's just how Roger is." You shrugged. "A bit of a flirt."

"Well, that's not how you are." Mona shot back with an arch of her brow. "I know you. And if you really believed he was just having a little fun you wouldn't let yourself look at him the way you've been looking at him all morning. He has the same look, too. You match."

Mona's point toward the obvious hit you like a ton of bricks. Though she was swift to move on to your usual gossip, you felt yourself floating around the same thoughts of Roger.

For the rest of the day, in fact, you struggled to accept the fact that you'd been falling for Roger. Of course, you had, everyone seemed to expect it, root for it. And Roger had the perfect pair of eyes that refused to look away from yours until you were a puddle under his gaze; ready and willing to be pieced back together by his questions about how, exactly you were made.

You took Pepper down the walking paths between ever-growing trees, and wandered between them, the long way back home. The whole time you figured there was no harm in giving in to the little advances Roger couldn't seem to stop giving. You didn't want to fall so deep your heart would shatter when you finally collided with something cold and unmoving. But you were stuck out here for another two weeks, and Roger's persistent presence was warmer than the sun.

///

The next couple of days, when you looked to Roger, your heart started up like an engine. You didn't like it one bit. You only planned to let his flirting entertain you. You couldn't become invested in it. You'd lodged yourself between wanting to spend every odd hour listening to him talk, and knowing you were better off to go about your day like usual, to save yourself the trouble.

So when Roger invited you to come and sit while the band showed off their mostly put together list of songs, you did. And when Roger sat next to you during every meal, you offered him a smile before tucking in. And when Roger woke up to share a cup of tea with you every other morning, you let him. And you liked it.

But when Roger leaned in too close, you turned your eyes to your lap, focusing on your nails digging into your palms so you couldn't feel his breath ghosting across your ear as he told a joke no one else could hear. And when Roger asked to join your walks with Pepper, you told him no, because you'd never been so alone with him before, and you couldn't let that happen now.

The week was full of conflicts between the imaginary angel and devil on either of your shoulders. You waded further from the waters of self-control, but dashed back with the tide when Rogers moonstruck gaze grew too pretty to handle.

By the end of the second week, you'd continued your normal lunches with Freddie, the occasional morning debate with Brian, and the promised game of cards with John, when everyone else went to bed.

You poured some drinks for the two of you and sat in silence while the game started up. But before too long, John eased into a conversation about how much he enjoyed your countryside getaway.

"We're all so glad you've let us come round, it's so nice to be here. Feels like home. Fred might be going a bit stir crazy but he loves it, don't let him fool you." John laughed, laying down a card. You chuckled too.

"And Bri is content out here, with all the stars." You pointed out. Every night, Brian made a show of pointing out all the things the naked eye could see when the sky started turning black.

"And somehow, Rog is happiest. Can you believe that?" John's smile remained lithe but you realized John had subtly achieved changing the subject entirely.

"No, not really." You offered an honest simper.

"He really does like you, y/n."

"Hm..."

You laid a final card down, lost the round, and stretched upright, grabbing both empty glasses to rest in the sink.

"Just because I'm the only girl around for him to attach himself to, doesn't mean he likes me." You shrugged from across the room. John stood to join you, curiously meeting your gaze, waiting to hear more of what you had to say.

"Roger just can't be alone. I'm not interested in being a placeholder." You reasoned.

"Then why haven't you told him so? You've let him follow you around like a puppy all since he got here." John pointed out unabashedly. But he wasn't wrong to wonder why you'd started giving into the small advances.

"Because I like him." You admitted with a frustrated sigh. "And all I have is the rest of this summer to pretend that I'm not just his only option. But I can't... I just can't let him break my heart. It already hurts bad enough knowing this'll all end in a week."

"I get where you're coming from..." John sighed, disgruntled. A silence weighed between the two of you, while you stood in place, mind racing too fast to focus on a single thought through the white noise.

"But, you know," John went on, raising his chin as if that would help make a clearer point. "Rog may be reckless. And he may get caught up in getting the things he wants, so much so that he'll make a bit of a mess on his mission. But when he really genuinely wants something, he gets it. And when he has it, he doesn't let it go."

"I'm a person, Deacy. Not a fucking stamp. I refuse to be collected with all the other pretty souvenirs to be left on a shelf." You spoke in a harsh, exhausted hiss. John hung his head, pursing his lips as if he'd been personally defeated. You spun to leave the room, but someone was blocking the doorway.

Roger was clutching the door frame, fingertips going white, eyes and mouth drooping pitifully. You barely looked his way as you brushed past, scurrying down the hall to take cover. And the whole time, Roger hurried after you, asking your name like a big scary question.

You managed to shut yourself in your room before the blonde rounded the corner and caught up with you. And when you heard his voice muffle past the closed door, a silly little sadness bubbled up in your throat.

You didn't want to shut him out, but you really believed you had to. A couple of frustrated tears escaped as you went on getting ready for bed, and as you tried to talk yourself down from all the mess of thoughts threatening to make you cry harder, everything turned to white noise as your eyes grew heavy.

///

When you awoke, it was as if everything that happened before you fell asleep was a fever dream. You crossed your fingers for that to have been the case and went to start your morning like every one before it.

But when you opened your door, all the dreaded feelings you'd gone to sleep with flooded back tenfold. You found Roger asleep, slumped against the wall outside your door. At his side, Pepper, comfily curled against the man with her head in his lap, asleep too. You huffed, creeping past him to do your job.

And as you hurry your practiced creep through the house and out of the door, you thought you'd made it to the porch steps without any trouble. But of course, when you reached the shed, you heard the door swing open and heavy footsteps bounding down the porch. Roger hurried toward you with wild red eyes.

"Roger I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I guess I just got used to being around you." You let out a breath that sounded like a laugh as you grabbed your bucket of feed, and kept walking.

"Do you really feel that way?" Roger asked, voice rattling in a pitch you'd never heard him use.

"Does it matter?" You shrugged, approaching the coop.

"Do you really think I'm not mad about you? Do you really think I'm just going to go back to the city and shag the first lass I see? I want you, y/n. Isn't it dead obvious?"

"Roger!" You spun to face him, your tone starling a couple of chickens, and the blonde, who flinched away from a bird who flapped too close. "Don't do this to me!" You threatened.

If you could see up the hill you would know your voices traveled far enough to alarm John, Brian, and Freddie who were sharing tea next to the open kitchen windows. They couldn't make out what you were saying, but they could tell this wasn't going to be a morning like any other. They'd been watching things between you and Roger morph past friendly acquaintance, and they realized this must have been the breaking point. Things were boiling over, but where would they fall?

"It's worse to think you might actually be a little interested in me."

"I want to be with you y/n! Why is that bad?" Roger pointed desperately trying to make himself clear.

"For now, you might!" You shouted back. That stopped him in his tracks.

"But I want a forever, Roger. And you can't even get through breakfast without changing your plans. You can't even sign an autograph for one groupie without letting your eyes linger to meet someone else's! They might be okay with it. And if you are too, fine! But it would just break my heart."

You slammed the bucket of feed on the ground, birds hurrying toward the meal. Roger looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. You hated it. But you had to stand your ground. It was going to hurt eventually anyway.

"Then what does it say about me that I still want you? Even if you think I'm so horrid?" Roger winced.

"I don't think you're horrid, I think you're amazing!" You shouted back with a wild gesture.

"That's the whole bloody problem!" Wasn't it obvious? "I'll want you forever, even when you don't want me anymore!" You admitted, only realizing the weight of your statement after your words hung in the air, your heart cracking in its mold.

"What do I need to do?" Roger asked in a panic, stepping closer to you. "How can I prove that you're the only one for me? For now, and for always. Tell me what you want and I'll do anything I fucking swear." Roger's voice was thick and frantic, but you'd heard him sing and forget what he'd been wailing about the morning after.

"You don't mean that!" You cried, moving away. You heard all the times he planned one date with someone else while he toted a different girl on his arm. You didn't think it was a problem, not if that's what everyone was looking for. But you weren't that girl. You couldn't wait on the sidelines and be glad you got a kiss at the end of the day. And you couldn't expect Roger to play the part you wanted if that wasn't really him. You just didn't fit together. No matter how badly you wished you did.

So you picked up your bucket and turned to stomp up the hill.

"Y/n!" Roger plead, watching your storm away. He stood debating on letting you have a bit of space. But, he'd done enough of that. He needed to prove himself now.

You stormed inside, casually so. You'd planned to ignore the rest of the boys who still stood about the kitchen, and head straight for your room. But you hadn't out run Rogers hurry to stop you. He bolted through the entry just as you reached the doorway to the hall.

"Y/n wait," Roger begged, instead of demanded. His dejected tone was what forced your feet to stall before they reached the corner. The boys fell silent from across the room while you fixated your stare at the wall, afraid if you met anyone eye, you'd burst into tears.

"Please." Roger croaked. The room was silent. And when you slowly turned to face him, Roger was struggling to hold back tears, pools brimming in his impossibly big eyes. Everyone around seemed to hold their breath, waiting for you to say something.

After what felt like forever, Freddie ushered his two remaining bandmates out the back door while you and Roger stood, deadlocked.

You sighed, shook your head, grabbed Roger by the wrist, and pulled him toward the living room. You released him from your grasp near the sofa, where Roger slowly sat, gapping your way.

"I don't want to fight with you, Roger." You sighed after a while of staring out the window, searching for just what to say.

"I'm fighting for you, y/n. I've never wanted anything more."

"But Rog..." You implored softly. But when you turned and looked at his watery eyes, you'd forgotten what point you were busy making.

He sucked in a breath bracing for you to keep at it, but you slumped, sitting next to him sorrily. You moved both of your hands to Roger's face, and brushed your thumbs under each of his eyes, wiping away the traces of tears that happened to overflow.

"Everything is different with you. I understand just saying so isn't good enough. Give me a chance to prove it?" Roger asked in a hush, looking in your eyes his fingers slowly wrapped around your wrists. The drummer slid off the side of the couch, tangled his fingers with yours, and looked up to you from his knees, one final silent plea.

Your heart was too conflicted, too quick to cower behind the wall you'd build up. So you just gave Roger a pathetic nod, because you knew you couldn't say no.

"I'm sorry I upset you." You spoke, glancing at the way Roger's hands clutched yours, still. With that, the blonde let out a sigh and rested his head in your lap, accepting the conclusion.

You lost your fingers in his strands of hair, accepting his display of affection, or whatever it might have been. All you knew was that you'd never felt more content and confused at the same time.

The pair of you stayed like that for a while, in shared silence. It was broken when Freddie's voice echoed through the back door. He called both of your names, and then Rogers once more. The band didn't have much more time to waste.

When Roger lifted his head from your lap, you stopped him from standing to brush his hair back into place. The two of you shared the smallest laugh, the tiniest expressions that made you believe you were on the same page. Then you walked toward the sound of Freddie's timbre, side by side.

The singer was wringing his hands in the garden doorway, casting Roger a concerned expression as the two of you approached. The blonde nodded toward Freddie as he walked outdoors and sauntered toward the barn, stretching his arms. But Freddie stalled in the doorway, turning to you once Roger was a few paces off.

"We'll figure it out, I promise." You told Freddie, before he could even ask. You knew he only stopped you to wonder what just happened. The only thing was that you weren't entirely too sure. "We'll be alright. And you can finish your record. I'm sorry-"

Freddie raised his hand ceasing your statement. Then he looped an arm through yours and insisted you come and listen to Queen's newly perfected masterpiece that still didn't have a name.

///

The last week you continued to share most mornings with Brian, and every lunch with Freddie. You still beat John at the same old card game. But each day you spent near Roger, was different.

The silence you shared held a new weight, a ticking time bomb. The conversations you traded were gentler, but shifted around familiar topics. There was nothing you and Roger were afraid to discuss, well, everything except one thing. And when the subject of your feelings for each other threatened to come up, you and Roger shared a glance in place of any discussion.

He followed you out to the forest with Pepper, throwing sticks she'd chase after but fail to bring back. Roger sat by you at every meal, looking to you first for every open-ended question that popped up through your friend's chatter.

And during the last night of the band's stay, after they spent the morning loading up their instruments into their van, you planned a big evening in. Setting out movies and snacks and all the proper essentials for any good party.

Otto came over, with a plate of desserts and some seeds for Brian to plant. Mona stayed an extra night, exchanging recipes with John, and sharing a long chat with Freddie and Roger in the sun room. When everyone gathered to watch a film or two, most of the boys fell asleep before the second film started. Besides you and Mona, Otto was the last man standing as the credits rolled.

When Mona lifted her frame for a big comfy claw-footed chair, she brushed past you with a wink on her way to bed. Roger had fallen asleep at your side long ago. with his head on your shoulder. You gave your old friend a pursed grin, before closing your eyes and leaning into the drummer's warmth. If whatever happened between you and Roger was only meant to last for a month, this was your last chance to enjoy it. You'd already fallen. Why not give in for a second or two?

The next morning, you awoke to find you'd switched places. Your head was comfortably perched on Roger's shoulder, his body turned toward yours as if he was inviting in the comfort. You blinked to the band still passed out around the living room. But Roger was awake, and already waiting to meet your gaze.

You could tell when your eyes met then, that it was one of those moments with a dozen outcomes. Whatever either of you said or did next felt detrimental. So you stuck to what you knew, and asked Roger if he'd like one last cup of tea. He said yes.

Eventually, the boys started dragging their suitcases to the front porch, blabbering about the sunshine and the city they were headed back to. You passed around hugs, sending each boy to their ride one by one. They all thanked you in their own silly little way, all of them groggy and reluctant to leave the quiet.

When the van pulled out of the driveway, you couldn't tell if Roger was looking back or not. You bit back tears as your friends drove off, and for the first summer ever, you feel stuck in Surrey.

///

The next time you saw Queen was on stage.

You'd made it back home to the city just in time to change and race to see your friends play. Because even though you'd had the pleasure of hearing the echoes of their endless rehearsal for weeks on end, you still weren't sick of the sound. They were set up in a small club, getting back into the swing of putting on a show for more than a wandering chicken and or two.

A usual cast of friends, groupies, and followers were scattered about the crowd. You knew some of them, and a few introduced you to faces you'd never seen before then. But when Queen took the stage, the audience ceased their chatter to join in giving the band a warm welcome.

They needed no introduction. Their instruments caught fire and melded together in perfect timing, in alarming harmony. You watched on in wonder, each member using their talent to the band's advantage, showing off in each other's favor. You'd never tire of marveling over their music.

After a setlist full of head-spinning tunes, the crowd thinned out respectively. Fans meandered out front, planning to linger near the band's parked van. Friends drifted toward the stage while the boys tore down their set, shooting winks and nods toward the groupies who slipped backstage. That left you eyeing a side exit, planning your route home, wondering if you had time to stop for a bite to eat on the way home.

But your mission toward the exit was hindered when someone yanked you backward by your shirt sleeve.

"You're not leaving." Brian declared, pulling you along, past the stage, where Freddie spun, blowing you a kiss. Brian pulled you backstage, down a couple of dank halls lined with girls and guys waiting to get their hands on one of Queen.

Brian dumped you off in the doorway of the green room, you supposed. The space offered a sofa, a mirror, and a table full of half-consumed liquor bottles. And all alone stood Roger Taylor. He appeared to have changed shirts, and was screwing the lid back on to a bottle of water when he looked up and noticed you.

If you thought Rogers eyes were bright, his smile upon seeing you was blinding.

"You came! I thought you'd be sick of us by now." Roger chuckled, opening his arms as he approached to wrap you in a hug.

"I swear you get better every time." You laughed, hugging him back, surprisingly relieved and relaxed in his arms. When Roger let go of you, he searched your face as you stood, failing to hide your blush.

"You came." He smiled again, as if he was just now really realizing you were here.

"Of course I did, Rog."

With that, he grabbed your hand like he'd done it more than once. Roger pulled you alongside him, greeting every odd familiar face in the halls. Some knew your name, others learned it when Roger introduced you in passing. He led you right to the stage, where he went to take his drums apart. Freddie cornered you to spill what seemed like every thought he had since last you'd seen each other. John even circled back around to offer you a goodbye on his hurry home for the evening.

Then, the rest of the weekend went almost just like that. You stood and watched your friends warm-up the same stage in preparation to tour later on. And when the shows ended, you waited around to make sure you told each boy hello, or goodbye.

Roger seemed to wait up for you. He never sought you out, never hurried off stage to cling to your side. He simply waited near the bar or in the green room, where you found him kicking his feet until he saw you. Then, he'd dare to cling to you. To grab your hand, or lean his shoulder against yours while you both listened to some stranger tell a long boring story.

Rogered waited up for you, and that's how you knew. At the end of the weekend, you went home feeling utterly incomplete. Thoughts of Roger used to hurt your head and heart, but the ache you felt at the thought of the blonde was much different now. You were only torturing yourself, really. It was time to give in.

You told yourself that whatever happened next, was exactly what was meant to happen. On your drive to Rogers flat, you made yourself accept your fate in advance, no matter what it might have been.

On your march up the complex stairs, you figured you didn't have much to lose.

You knocked, bolts of nerves surging through each time your knuckles met the door. When it opened, Roger seemed genuinely surprised to see you.

"Oh hey," He uttered, moving back to let you in. You glanced past Roger's shoulders as you stepped inside the space he shared with Brian, though the guitarist was usually staying with his soon to be wife in the little apartment they'd started slowly moving into.

"I thought Bri left for the evening. But I suppose if you're expecting him he'll be back any minute..." Roger reasoned, shutting the door and shuffling a safe distance away from where you'd planted your feet in the kitchen.

"I'm here to see you, Roger." You bit back a grin.

"Me? I-" His saucer eyes were innocently confused. He was clad in an old sweatshirt and his hair was still a little damp from a shower at the end of a long night. Before he had time to finish asking what you were doing here, you closed the space between the two of you.

You placed a hand on Roger's jaw and kissed him in the blink of an eye. His lips were warm and soft, and even more perfect than you imagined them to be. He stalled for a moment, but when you showed no signs of pulling away, Roger gave in. He snaked an arm around your middle and kissed you back in the manor a soldier coming home from war might have. Your lips moved together for what seemed like forever, you hoped it was.

"I'm sorry I never did that sooner." You breathed after your kisses died down. Roger kept his arm around you, holding you close against his form.

"Better late than never, right?" Roger mused, curling his lip into a grin as his eyes searched yours. This was what you wanted, no questions asked. It was time to give in.

"If you want forever, I'd love to share that with you." You nodded in a whisper, holding your breath during the nanosecond it took Roger to agree.

"I want everything with you." Roger laughed a little like he shouldn't have had to state the obvious, but was glad to all the same. You let out a small laugh too, more like a sigh of relief, though. You hadn't expected to end up in the situation, but as the summer crept into autumn, you couldn't imagine your world with Roger.

///

Thursdays were still reserved for you and Freddie to share your usual order at the coffee shop. And John still sometimes joined in to share a joke or a wise old sentiment in between your gossip. You still saw Brian at every odd dinner, game night, and gig; where you rambled and argued about the workings of the universe. And in between it all, Roger was always at the back of the stage and at the end of every day, always looking to you. You rocketed into sharing beds, and breakfasts and shopping trips together. You and Roger were never too far apart.

As autumn turned to winter, you went on the hunt for another internship and found something better; a job. It was only then you realized how glad you were to have missed out on that very first opportunity. How lucky you got when everything was canceled and you were propelled into the forest with your favorite band. That must have been how things were always meant to happen. Because the production you signed on to now caused stars to form in your eyes. It was a position even dreamier than you ever hoped to score, but something that wasn't meant to start until the beginning of the next year.

So when Queen released their record and started morphing from hometown heroes to actual superstars, they each begged you to join the tour meant to promote their new music. And you didn't have a single reason to decline.

You tagged along for a couple of weeks, snapping photos of the boys on the plane, in front of shop windows, and on each new stage they took by storm.

And as the days you'd booked to ride along dwindled away, as fate threatened to keep you apart longer than you'd like to have ever been, you just kept planning for your future.

"Let's get a dog." Roger piped up one night, as he slipped into a cozy hotel bed beside you.

"What if he gets lonely? If we get one we'd have to get another." You countered, snuggling close. Roger hummed in agreeance, while you settled against him for the last night you'd get the chance to for months in a row.

"One day we'll have all the dogs we want." Roger sighed, the softness of his tone and the rattle of his chest under your ear was just as good as any of the other music he made. "A whole farm."

"Even a chicken coop?" You teased in a falsely hopeful manner, assuming he'd shiver at the thought.

"Whatever you want." You felt Roger shrug. You lifted your head to meet his eyes, waiting for the catch, because you knew he couldn't possibly care for you so much to bend at the will of all of your silly little suggestions.

"I love you. I want everything with you. Even chicken coop." Roger spoke in a hush, reaching his long fingers to brush your cheek. You stared at him in awe, completely submerged in appreciation for Roger, and this moment you shared.

"You'll have to feed them though," Roger spoke as you searched his features. With that, you both laughed until you fell asleep, together.

When morning came, you hoped packing your bags at a slow pace would stall time, in a magic moment. But in the blink of an eye, you were rushing to catch a cab, glancing over your shoulder to find Roger watching you go.

It was hard to settle back home in the quiet rainy city without the boys to keep you company, to keep you on your toes. But you settled into your dream job, finally fulfilled with all the hard work you spent getting to the place you landed in. You worked, and dreamed of Roger, and pinched yourself every time you realized just how lucky you were.

You and Roger were further apart than ever before, even when you hadn't attached at the hip. But he called, and sent letters, and promised he'd see you soon. And you answered and wrote back and promised you were counting down the days.

When he finally came home to you after months away he bound your way with arms outstretched. Roger lifted you from the ground, spinning around with ease, pleading for you to come on the next tour, and the one after that if there was one. And you knew Roger was yours, that your days were better spent dreaming together. You knew you'd be alright.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor imagine #loc event

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter VII]

Word count: 6,292

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you do too while reading it. Side note 1: I reference a few movies here and there. I would advise you skipping one or two paragraphs to avoid spoilers if you still mean to watch it. But, I'm assuming everyone reading this has seen it already. Site note 2: Anne Rice will find a way to sue me if this somehow finds its way to her (it won't, who do I think I am) Side note 3: if you haven't yet, watch every movie and read every book mentioned here. They're all great.

____________________________________________________________

I had a huge grin on my face as I left the courtroom. My client grabbed my arm and shook it, chuckling.

“You won!” she squealed.

“ We won,” I corrected. I stopped walking and faced Mirriam. Her make-up was smudged beneath her watery eyes and her lips were quivering. “I’m happy for you.”

She pulled me into a hug, knocking the breath out of me. Both my hands were occupied, carrying my briefcase and purse so, I had no choice but to stand there, unable to hug her back. Mirriam sobbed, her arms tightening about my neck ever so slightly as she thanked me. Over her shoulder, I saw Judge Llewellyn leave the courtroom, still dressed in his robes. He looked at us, the perpetual crease between his eyebrow softening. Mirriam exclaimed and released me abruptly. The squeals of happy children echoed down the hall and I turned to see Mirriam make a run for the two kids sprinting towards her.

“Congratulations, Miss L/N,” said Llewellyn. I turned my head to see him standing at my side. “You did well.”

“Can you repeat that, please? I didn’t quite catch it,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

His lips tugged up as he glanced away. When he looked at me again his face was serious.

“Don’t try your luck,” he extended a hand toward me. “I’m looking forward to seeing you at practice in my court again.”

Any moment now my cheeks would tear from smiling so much. I let go of my purse, not caring that it almost tipped over, and shook his hand. Although his fingers were long and bony, his handshake was firm.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded and made his way to the opposite direction, presumably towards the judges’ chambers. I watched him go, his robes swaying after him and then turned the other way, taking in Mirriam on her knees, laughing at whatever her children had said. Yeah, I did well. As I picked up my purse, I felt it vibrating. I stuck a hand inside it, searching for my phone as I made my way out of the Royal Courts of Justice.

“Hi, Zoe.”

“Any news?” She asked on the other end.

“None.”

“It’s been over a week since he took you out. Shouldn’t he have called you?”

“Maybe he’s lost interest,” I countered, frowning at the twinge on my chest.

Out in the open, I lowered my head to protect myself against the drizzle as I walked.

“That’s absurd. He wouldn’t go to all the trouble of bribing someone--”

“I still regret telling you that.”

“Nevermind who he is, that was impressive.”

An outsider could hear our conversation and think we were complaining about some guy giving me the cold shoulder, not plotting against a five centuries old vampire.

“Zoe, I don’t care why he hasn’t called as long as he leaves me alone. Maybe he met someone else,” as I talked, I managed to make eye contact with a cabbie inside a passing taxi and nodded. “I saw you two days ago. I’ll call if anything changes. When do you want to meet again?”

“Let’s make it Sunday. It’ll be the fourth set of samples and I want to keep the every 2 days pattern we’ve got going on until your bite fully heals.”

The taxi stopped next to me and I juggled all my stuff in order to open the door. I glared at the cabbie, hoping that he would be moved by my anger and help me open the door. I could be Queen Elizabeth and he wouldn’t care.

“Fine,” I said as I managed to open the car door and get inside. “61 Marney Road,” I told the cabbie and he accelerated. “St Thomas Hospital again?” I asked Zoe.

“Yes. 11am. Call me if Dracula--”

“I know, I know. Bye.” I ended the call before she could keep talking.

Once I settled my belongings next to me and made myself comfortable, I leaned my head on the window, watching as London’s lights started coming to life in the nearing dusk. Getting complimented by Judge Llewellyn deserved to be celebrated. A good film accompanied by popcorn and lots of chocolate appealed to my body overridden by PMS. Add an hour in a hot bath and then I would have the perfect Friday night. How would Count Dracula spend his Friday night?

I lowered my shirt’s high collar and touched the scar on my neck. It was nothing more than small scabs now that the bruises were gone but I still wore turtlenecks to conceal the strangulation marks. I hadn’t felt the tingling sensation on it ever since my date with the Count and I wondered if it would react at all to him now that it was almost healed.

“Miss, you alright?”

I removed my hand from my neck like I had been burned.

“What?”

“Are you feeling alright? It sounded like you were out of breath,” he spoke the same way someone would if they were addressing an elderly person.

My entire face went hot and I thanked him silently for not being one those cabbies that always had the rear view mirror turned to the back seats in order to watch the passengers.

“I have, uh, asthma,” I shut my eyes as I spoke, overcome by embarrassment. “But I’m fine now.”

Had I gone mental? Rubbing my scar to test if it was still reactive to touch in the back of a taxi was just plain stupid, especially considering that I’d gotten so utterly lost in pleasure that I had been panting loud enough for the cabbie to hear me.

“Tragic, innit?”

That my bond to Count Dracula paired with PMS had made me become a dog in heat? Yes.

“Sorry, what?”

The cabbie leaned forward and a second later the whispering voices coming from the car speakers raised to an understandable volume.

“ Surrey police has no leads so far ,” was all I heard from the narrator before a song started playing.

“What happened?”

“Two students were found dead this morning in Surrey University. Bright youngins, can you imagine what they could--”

I straightened on my seat.

“Murders?”

“Makes no sense, how brutal. Police says it appears they were having a movie night--”

“How were they killed?”

The cabbie took hold of the rear view mirror and angled it at me. I smiled dryly at his frown.

“Professional curiosity,” I told him. “I’m a defense lawyer.”

That answer did nothing to soothe the crease on his large forehead.

“Police isn’t sure yet. But I heard from a pal from Surrey,” he lowered his voice, like he was confiding in me, “that the person that found ‘em threw up and so did a coppa. Looked like a scene straight from The Shining, I bet. Nasty stuff.”

I nodded, relaxing against the window again. Taking he referenced The Shining, that probably meant that there was a lot blood. Dracula wouldn’t waste a drop, I supposed. Odd horrific murders came about once in a while, sadly, and all of them committed by humans. Besides, would he really go all the way to Surrey just to murder a bunch of uni students? London was stacked with several student halls for him to pick from without the trouble of traveling across counties.

“First what happened at that company and then this… This is a bad, bad week. My gran used to say that everything comes in threes. I assure ya, miss, there’s more-”

“Which company? What are you talking about?”

“Ya haven’t heard?” he questioned, glancing at me through the mirror. “Why, miss. Two nights ago the, whaddyacallit, the big corporate cunts in charge of a company- oh, excuse my mouth, miss-”

“The board of directors?”

“Yeah, those blokes. Murdered, the whole lot of ‘em, inside a meeting room!” he started whispering again.

“Was this here in London?”

“Central London,” he nodded. “Can’t remember the name of the company, now-”

“Like the murders in Surrey? Bloody?”

“Nah, don’t think there’s been news about that. Cameras were dead, caught nothing of it. They were found by security at almost midnight after a wife of one of ‘em called looking for her husband.”

“Cause of death?” I asked and he looked at me. “Just answer the question.”

“Stab wounds to the neck, all of ‘em. Apparently some of them put up a fight because there were broken arms and fingers. Scotland Yard said that it’s prolly more than one murderer, other than that they’ve been quiet about it… They’re investigating it,” he made air quotes, “that’s code for we don’t know shite.”

He continued ranting for the rest of the trip but I wasn’t listening anymore. I doubted that Netflix would be able to salvage my mood after that conversation.

Once I paid the cabbie, I bid him a nice weekend and jumped out of the taxi. Compared to how he had barely cared about my struggle to get in the taxi, he was nice enough to wait until I got my door opened. Now that the night had come, the automatic light above my front door had turned on and I could only make out the shape of his hand waving at me from inside the car. I waved back as a thanks before going inside.

I went straight upstairs after I locked the door. With how wired I was, I forgot all about my intentions of taking a bath and took a shower instead. Considering I was humming a tune to myself after thirty minutes under a steady stream of hot water, I was making a quick recovery. I was still singing when I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel about my body. I opened the door, tendrils of steam spilling from my bathroom into my bedroom.

“Ohmygod!”

Count Dracula grinned at me, lying on the middle of my bed with both arms folded beneath his head. I pressed the towel to myself, desperately seeking more cover.

“I was starting to wonder if you would ever come out of there.”

“I wish I hadn’t!” I exclaimed. “I locked my door! How the hell did you get in?!”

“Window." He pointed one long finger at it.

Deadbolts. I’d have to get deadbolts on every single window in my house.

“Couldn’t you have texted in advance?!”

“I did. You didn’t reply.”

I stared at him, waiting for something else to come out of his mouth. Instead, his gaze slid down my body, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he inhaled sharply. I knew exactly why he was whiffing the air. Thank God my body was flushed from the hot shower, otherwise I would have gone bright red in anger.

“Ugh, leave!” I said, projecting my voice like I was in court.

I stretched an arm out, pointing at the window. The sudden movement almost caused the towel to open and I immediately took hold of it again with a little squeak. Count Dracula was up at once, circling the bed towards me. I gulped. His gaze pulled me in and for a moment my anger sizzled down.

“I’ve missed you,” he said and a shiver went down my spine.

I stepped back into the bathroom to put some distance between us.

“Too bad, go away.”

A smirk tugged the corner of his lips.

“You’ve missed me, too.”

“Absolutely did not.”

“Your heartbeat says otherwise.”

“It’s called anger.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“‘I’ll go wait downstairs,” he said before turning away from me and slipping out of my bedroom.

My knees almost gave out when he left and I rushed to sit on the edge of the bed. I held my head as I tried to concentrate and take deep breaths. Had he stayed any longer I wouldn’t put it past me to lock myself in the bathroom and remain there until morning. Not only I had to deal with him, I also could feel cramps coming. I wanted nothing more to curl up in bed with a heat compress and chocolate. Summoning my courage, I got up and went to get dressed.

As I went down the stairs, Dracula peeked his head out from the living room.

“You’re going out in your nightgown?”

I stopped for a second, frowning and then continued down.

“I’m not going out. I’m tired and uncomfortable and I’m staying home,” I forced a smile, batting my eyelashes just to annoy him. I rounded the staircase, giving my back to him and heading for the kitchen. “I do hope you haven’t wasted your money bribing someone else to grant us entrance to another museum.”

I swiped at the switch and soft lights came on over the kitchen island and at the corners of the room.

“I haven’t. There’s no problem in postponing tonight’s date.”

I turned around to see him standing on the other side of the island, staring at me.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No.” He smiled. “Like I said, I’ve missed you.”

I leaned down and opened the cabinet under the sink. I pushed a set of pans to the side, looking for my heat pad.

“Been busy for this past week?” I asked, my voice echoing inside the cabinet.

“Unfortunately.”

I found the heat pad and stood up, closing the cabinet door after me as I put it inside the microwave and set 5 minutes. I turned to face him, propping my hips on the kitchen counter. I pulled on my courtroom face. If Count Dracula squinting at me meant that he saw me do it, then I needed to work more on my tells.

“Reading Jules Verne or killing a board of directors?”

One of his eyes twitched before he smiled.

“Both. Although I haven’t finished the book yet.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Not finish the book?”

“Dracula-”

“I was bored." He waved his hands on the air, dismissing my hard stare. “Please, I did the world a service! Yes, I went after them on a whim but as soon as I drank from one of them… I killed them on principle.”

“Principle? You’ve got that?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” He put his hands on top of the island and leaned forward, the light above his head creating shadows on his face. “The first one I bit was a child abuser. It was in his blood so, forgive me if killing him offends you. I broke his neck because I didn’t have a stomach for him. The rest of them… were palate cleansers. Although it didn’t do much good. Incredible how many of them had raped women and beat their wives.”

We stared at each other, frozen in place.

All my anger from before vanished and I had to struggle to keep my courtroom face on. In another world, one where there was no law binding me, I would have done the same. Was this the good in him I had been searching, however twisted it was?

The microwave chimed, prompting me to blink and break eye contact.

“I hope you hid at least some of the evidence,” I said, pushing back from the kitchen counter. “I’m not sure how representing a vampire in court for murder would look on my resumé.”

“No need to worry.” He grinned.

I grabbed the heat pad from the microwave, juggling it between my hands to avoid getting burnt until I dropped it to the counter.

“What about the students in Surrey?”

“Surrey? No, I haven’t been there.”

I nodded, somewhat relieved. I turned my back on Dracula to conceal my face as I broke the façade. He wasn’t responsible for the murders on Surrey as I suspected but after killing those ‘corporate cunts’, as the cabbie had put so appropriately, he probably went somewhere else to find another palate cleanser. Somebody else was dead because of him but for the life of me I couldn’t find something inside me to care enough. He had indeed done the world a service.

I rounded the island, past the Count so I could reach the pantry. From there I took popcorn and a bar of chocolate I had hidden, from myself, behind a set of spices. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I moved and I fought the urge to steal a glance of his face to try figure out what was on his mind.

“I’m surprised you made an appearance,” I said in the unnerving silence.

“Are you, really?”

“Yes.” Hugging the popcorn and chocolate to my chest, I moved past him, congratulating myself for not looking at him. “No, actually. I was fairly positive you would come looking for me again, much to my dismay.” I chuckled. “One would think what happened at the museum would encourage you.”

My back burnt with the weight of his gaze. I started tearing the popcorn package frantically, making as much noise as possible to distract me. It was almost working but after I put the popcorn inside the microwave and closed it, I saw his reflection on the microwave mirrored door, moving towards me.

“It’s not very nice to sneak up on people,” I said, holding my ground.

He met my eyes through the reflection.

“I’m not nice.”

He had a reflection. I blinked, turning at once to face him. He was directly behind me, less than an arm’s length.

“You can be.”

“Do you want me to be nice?”

“No. It makes it harder to hate you.”

He smiled.

“I believed that for a second, really did. Especially when I found out that you had been asking our dear friend Renfield about me.”

I gulped.

“He wasn’t very forthcoming, if that makes you feel better,” I said and he chuckled but when his face grew serious again, I wondered if he forced that laugh. “Is that why you disappeared? Because Renfield gossiped about me to you?”

“Amongst other things,” he acquiesced, stepping back and supporting his body on the island much like I had done on the counter.

By his evasive answer, there was more to it but if he didn’t want to tell me it was fine. He had his secrets and I had mine.

“What do you know, boys really do gossip as much ladies do.”

He gave me a lopsided smile, one I judged was genuine, unlike his chuckle before. The microwave beeped again and I inhaled the delicious scent of done popcorn. I retrieved the popcorn with the tips of my fingers. I placed it briefly on the counter and then offered the heating pad to Count Dracula.

“Take this for me, will you?” I said and he did. I grabbed a glass of juice for me and then the popcorn and chocolate. “Come on. We’re watching a film.”

Count Dracula followed me into the living room. As I settled myself on the sofa, he gave me the heat pad and then occupied himself with analysing my library. Library was a kind word. It would take up the entire wall behind the telly if the fireplace had not been there. I wouldn’t say it was an impressive collection to a connoisseur but it was my collection and I had love for every single book in it, even the ones I didn’t like very much. Count Dracula had his hands laced behind his back and his head tilted as he admired it. I stopped myself from turning the telly on when I heard him whispering the titles to himself.

“Oh, would you look at that ?” He stepped forward and reached for the second to last row of books closest to the ceiling. I usually had to climb on the armchair to reach that far up but all he did was extend his arm up and pluck a book from up there. He turned around, showing me the gold cover with white and red lettering between his hands. “A vampire book?”

Of course he would find that. At least I should be thankful he didn’t find Story of O or Venus in Furs. If he had and then decided to flip through the pages, I would be doomed.

“Be very careful with that,” I warned. “It’s first edition and it was a gift. It’s sort of a classic.”

“Really?” he grinned, tipping his head up to the row from where he retrieved it from. “Are all of those classics?”

“Anne Rice might say so but the rest of the world wouldn’t,” I scoffed. He looked at me. “She thinks very highly of herself.”

“We would probably get along wonderfully,” he smirked. “Perhaps I should pay her a visit to give her real inspiration.”

“She’s an old woman now and would die of excitement if you actually visited her,” I laughed. “There’s a film for this one,” I pointed at the book in his hands. There was gleam in his dark eyes. “Do you want to watch it?”

“You’ve seen it already,” he said as he placed the book on the shelf.

“Yes but I can’t deny myself the irony of watching a vampire film with a real vampire,” I said, grabbing the remote control and turning on the TV. “We’ll watch this one and then you can choose the next one.”

I gazed up at him, waiting for an answer. He traced his tongue inside his lower lip, giving my body all sorts of ideas my brain was not agreeable with. My hand tightened around the remote. Count Dracula took off his blazer and threw it on the armchair beneath the window. I almost asked him if all his shirts were missing buttons because the top ones were undone like the last time I’d seen him but then he started undoing his belt. Popcorn spilled on my lap.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I exclaimed.

“Getting comfortable,” he replied with a frown, like I was ridiculous for asking. He rolled the belt around his fingers and then placed it neatly on top of the fireplace. “Like you are,” he gestured at me.

I was sunken back on the sofa between pillows and cushions, with my feet on the coffee table and popcorn all over my nightie. Technically speaking, I was indeed comfortable, especially because of the heating pad on my lower abdomen relieving menstrual cramps. I was less comfortable with Dracula undressing in front of me while my body was working against me in every way possible.

“Fine,” I said between gritted teeth. My eyes widened as he started moving towards me. “W-wait, no, no, no, you’re sitting over there.”

His smirk widened into a full grin as he sat by my side, letting out an exaggerated breath, he kicked off his shoes and stretched himself in the same position as me.

“What happened to personal space?”

“I thought we’d gone past that already,” he raised his thick eyebrows.

I clenched my jaw. His gaze fell on my neck. All he would need to do was lean to sink his teeth in me, if he wanted. His lips parted and I was reminded of their softness when he had kissed me.

“Stop it,” I all but whispered.

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, eyes fixated on my neck.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.” I started picking off popcorn from my lap, hoping that would show him that he wasn’t affecting me. “Let’s just watch the film.”

I endured his stare as I clicked on the remote to bring up Netflix and started searching the catalogue for Interview with the Vampire. He decided to focus on the telly once Louis started talking to Daniel. As the film went on, he laughed with Lestat and cursed at Louis constantly for his sentiment. More than once, Count Dracula was literally at the edge of his seat. He nodded approvingly at Claudia at times and at Lestat’s flare for the dramatics, making his critiques here and there about how Anne Rice had gotten it right or wrong.

“That’s Haydn,” Dracula said, eyes glued to the screen as a corpse-like Lestat played the piano and Louis and Claudia watched in horror.

“Good ear,” I commented. “Not that I’m an expert but it took me a few google searches to find out where this piece was from.”

“Good appetite,” he countered without looking at me, raising his forefinger.

I paused the film and he turned to me with an indignant look on his face.

“You ate Haydn?”

He grimaced.

“Ate is a poor term.”

“You did!” I accused, mouth falling open. “Who else?”

“I didn’t kill Haydn, that would be outrageous. I would have deprived the world of Mozart and Beethoven. I just stole a few sips to understand his genius. Chopin, however, I did kill. He was a prick, and so was Mozart. Bach, too, was unbearable but I didn’t get the chance to off him,” he shrugged. “Paganini was a riot, though. I tried turning him but he was committed already to a long time friend, you could say.”

I stared at him for a long moment. I didn’t know where to start but him saying that about Paganini, very subtly, confirmed people’s suspicion at the time that the man had made a pact with the Devil to have been that good. Finding myself unable to form another coherent thought faced with that, I simply pressed play again.

The film was doing a fantastic job of keeping the Count’s attention and I started relaxing because I didn’t have to be on guard, even if he was laying by my side. That is, until we reached the scene on a theatre where Armand drinks from a woman on stage in front of unsuspecting humans. My heart had begun hammering inside my chest as soon as Louis and Claudia stepped inside the theatre because I knew what was coming.

Though I kept my eyes on the screen, I was suddenly hyper aware of how close I was to Count Dracula. An entire side of my body touched his, down to where my leg ended. Had I grown that comfortable and not noticed it? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Count Dracula swiveling his head to stare at me.

“You’re missing the film,” I told him, jamming popcorn in my mouth to keep myself busy.

“Your pulse is more interesting right now,” his words tickled my shoulder.

I snuck a glance at him. His eyes were still bottomless pools of black. The heat in his eyes was just as worrying if his eyes had been red.

“Don’t,” I warned.

The human girl was on stage now, screaming and begging for mercy. Soft, cold lips touched my shoulder and I swallowed dryly. Another kiss marked his path up. I forgot how to move, caught in the rapture of his touch. I could have at least this. Nevermind that I was being touched by the man who meant to steal my life. My chest heaved as his kisses became sloppier, less sweet. My entire body shuddered in anticipation as a kiss landed on the curve of my neck.

“I--”

A hand delved into my hair with a demanding tug and I shut up. The popcorn bag crumpled between my hands. Armand was on stage with the woman, hugging her and providing comfort before her death.

“Say it,” his lips brushed my ear.

“I won’t.”

His lips brushed my scar and I released a shaky breath. His mouth descended on my neck and a cry tore out of me upon feeling him sucking on my skin. Another hand laid on my chest, creeping slowly towards the shoulder strap of my nightie. I closed my eyes, letting myself be consumed by pleasure and forgetting every reason why we shouldn’t do this.

“Be mine,” his words were muffled as he continued his assault on my neck.

Sharp teeth grazed my skin.

This couldn’t happen, not if I wanted to live. The minute he bit me he would know about my plan. I had to summon every ounce of control on my body to resist the sensuous ripple of pleasure coursing my body. I dodged his hands and shot up to my feet. Dracula caught himself on his elbow before he fell between the cushions. His eyes were still every bit as dark as before but his mass of hair was tousled, as mine probably was.

“I think--” I took a breath. “I think you should leave.”

He sat up and I noticed that another button on his shirt had come undone, revealing more of his chest than I had seen before. I didn’t dare look any lower. I almost cried in frustration. My body demanded him despite the fact that giving myself to him meant danger.

“I want to finish watching the film,” he said, gazing up at me as he buttoned his shirt again.

“I’m sure you’ve got Netflix at your place.”

“I do but I don’t have the pleasure of your company there.”

“Dracula--”

“I’ll behave if you do,” he put his legs on the coffee table again but I didn’t fall for it. No way I was looking below his waistline. “ Promise .”

Would I make it if I ran upstairs to my room? But what use would it be if he could simply climb through my window? I wasn’t ten years old anymore to run away from my fears, hoping they would disappear if I didn’t acknowledge them. Then again, Dracula wasn’t the monster under my bed. He was more likely to be the one on top of it. Jesus, focus! Mind over matter, come on. Up until that point he was being good company. If he was toying with my self control or not, I wasn’t sure. Besides, I couldn’t push the man away any time he made me nervous. I needed to lead him on until Zoe and I found a breach.

“I’ll hold you to that promise. You stay there,” I pointed a finger at him. “I’ll sit over there.”

Grabbing the remote and the bar of chocolate, I tiptoed my way between the remains of my popcorn and curled myself up on the armchair. I started unpacking the chocolate, doing my best to keep my eyes on the telly. Louis and Claudia were now below the theatre, in Armand’s chambers.

Feeling the Count’s gaze on me, I said, “Are you watching the bloody film or not? Because I think I would rather watch something else now.”

After I started chomping at the chocolate bar like there was no tomorrow, Dracula paid attention to the telly. I managed to breathe normally again once he seemed to be engrossed by the film and made conversation about what was going on, like we had been doing before. He celebrated Louis’ revenge by clapping at him and I laughed at the joy on his face as Lestat popped up from the backseat of Daniel’s car and bit him. I mouthed the words to Sympathy for the Devil as the credits rolled and Dracula stayed with his eyes glued to the screen.

“I must talk to this Anne Rice woman,” he muttered.

I chuckled.

“Leave her alone. She hasn’t completed the series yet and I need to know how much dumber Lestat can get in the next book.”

“He’s not dumb,” Dracula said, frowning at me.

I chuckled again. God, he’d grown attached to him.

“You haven’t read the books yet. You might loathe him as much as you did Louis if you read them.”

He groaned.

“Let’s watch another one.”

“Another vampire film?”

“Yes.”

“Narcissist,” I accused and he smiled.

After searching through the Netflix catalogue, I found a vampire film that didn’t seem so ridiculous called Byzantium. It seemed like a better alternative than Lost Boys or Fright Night. I could just imagine his outrage at Twilight so I spared him of that, too. Twenty minutes later, however, Dracula was rolling his eyes at the TV and asking for the remote. He chose Silence of the Lambs and I thanked the heavens for it. I wouldn’t be able to sit through another sexy movie with him.

“He’s a great actor,” I commented as Dr Lecter and Clarice talked through the glass prison.

“How many times have you watched it? You quoted that to me before, word for word of what he just said.”

I shrugged.

“An unhealthy amount of times,” I admitted. He looked at me. “It won four Oscars, c’mon. It’s fantastic.”

I refused to tell him the reason I loved it so much was because of Hannibal Lecter. The Oscars excuse was better. We didn’t say much after that, that’s how fascinated Dracula was. Afterwards, he chose Crimson Peak, at last, one I hadn’t seen. Resting my head on the armchair and using Dracula’s blazer as a blanket, I closed my eyes for a brief moment when Edith met Thomas.

Sleep’s warm embrace had me floating and I sighed happily. Something hard and cold pressed at my cheek, making my eyes flutter open. Dracula’s face hovered above mine. I wasn’t floating, if his arms around me and his hard chest on my cheek meant anything. My heart hurt like someone had squeezed it.

“I’m just putting you to bed,” he said in a low voice, sparing me a glance.

I was too tired to argue with him and simply rested my head on his chest again.

“You’re cold,” I complained, holding onto his blazer.

“I’m sorry.”

The harsh lights of the telly made me squint at it with drowsy eyes. Rachel Weisz was on the screen now and I frowned, trying to remember if she appeared in Crimson Peak. Had he started another movie?

“Did the sleep- huh.” I furrowed my brows and tried again, “did I the movie- no,” I sighed.

Hearing his laugh inside his chest made me smile sleepily.

“You slept little more than 2 hours,” he replied, maneuvering me out of the living room.

“You understood,” a yawn, “what I said,” I giggled and patted his chest. “Well done.”

He flashed me an amused smile before looking ahead again. I wrapped my arms around him when he started going up the stairs, afraid that I would fall. I tried listening to his heartbeat - something I enjoyed doing to people whenever I had chance - but there was no sound coming from his chest. Oddly, that was just as comforting as not hearing soft thump-thumps. But maybe that was just my sleep-addled brain.

“Tell me what happens in Croms- ah, whatever, in the film.” I frowned, mad at how stupid I sounded when I was sleepy.

He laughed again.

“A lot.”

I rolled my eyes before surrendering to my heavy eyelids and closing them.

“Be nice, tell me,” I mumbled.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be nice.”

“Right now, I do.”

He started telling me but the rumble of his voice coming from inside his chest, so close to my ear, made me drift back to sleep again. I woke up when he was laying me down on my bed. The bedside lamp made me squint. He set me in the very middle of the bed and perched next to me. I rolled on my side to face him and fluffed the pillow below my head, hiding my face from the light.

“So Edith and Thomas got married, huh?” I asked.

“You got nothing of what I just told you.”

“Not a word." I shook my head lightly.

He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen on my face and his fingers hovered over me for a moment before caressing my temple.

“You were married,” I blurted. He dropped his hand and frowned. “When you were human. Weren’t you?”

“What does it matter?” He went to get up but I grabbed his wrist.

He glared at my hand.

“It was just a question,” I told him. “Don’t be mad. We bicker all the time, already.” I raised my eyebrows at him. His gaze fell on mine, indecipherable. “We don’t have to talk about her. Forget I said it.”

For a second I thought he would storm off. Dracula looked out the window, staring into the night. I waited for him to say something, waited until sleep started creeping again. My fingers slid down his wrist, resting on the back of his hand.

“She was nothing like you.”

My eyes fluttered open. He was still staring into the dark. I had to choose my words carefully if I wanted him to keep talking.

“How was she like?”

“Fragile and fearful of… everything. Deeply religious and foolish, at times. She smiled whenever she looked at me, even when I had done horrible things. In her mind, all that I did was in the name of God. There was this one time when I came from battle and I had blood on my face and armour-" he stopped, shoulders sloping and then stiffening "-she kissed me.”

“She wasn’t that fragile, then.”

He scoffed.

“I suppose not,” he conceded.

“Did you love her?”

“More than I thought I was capable.”

I had a feeling I knew the answer to my next question but asked it anyway.

“What happened to her?”

Finally, he turned his head to look at me. For the first time I saw a semblance of real emotion in his eyes and it broke my heart.

“I happened to her.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and took a breath to ask more but he stood up, his hand grazing mine briefly. I watched as he closed the curtains and then picked up the duvet at the bottom of my bed, unfurling it on top of me. I retrieved his blazer from beneath the covers and handed it to him. When he met my eyes again, his expression was devoid of all emotion. His hand reached behind me and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging us into darkness. I couldn’t make out his face anymore.

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” I whispered but I wasn’t sure if he was still in the room to hear me..

Taglist: @festering-queen @feralstare @rheabalaur @girlonfireice @dreamer2381 @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @thorin-smokin-shield @deborahlazaroff @apocalypsenowish @a-dorky-book-keeper if I forgot to tag anyone, please let me know

#dracula fanfic #dracula bbc #dracula bbc fanfic #dracula 2020 #dracula netflix #claes bang #claes bang fanfic #claes bang fanfiction #dracula x reader #bbc dracula #distorted lullabies #vampire fanfic

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katefiction · 4 years

Text

Cora, Chapter 2: Invitations

I have to tell someone.

I can’t.

I can’t tell anyone.

Annie, she’d know what to do.

No, she’d just congratulate me and pat me on the back.

Jenny? She’d freak me out even more.

Mum…let’s not go there.

Dad? I quiver at the thought.

The door swings open as I stand contemplating my options, one hand in my mouth, my nail being torn to shreds, the other clutching a bottle of brandy.

‘Cora!’, he says as if I’m a wonderful surprise he wasn’t expecting.

‘Evening Nicholas’, I smile, placing my hand at my side quickly.

He looks fantastic, his hair perfectly in place, and wearing a blue shirt and chinos. I have opted for a little black dress.

‘You look lovely’, he kisses me on both cheeks and I hand him the brandy.

‘For you’.

‘Brandy and fish? I think I’ll have to teach you a thing or two about flavours!’, he chuckles.

He lets me in to his plush Notting Hill apartment. Unlike my apartment at Clarence House, Nicholas is surrounded by shiny new furniture and contemporary art. It’s the kind of place that when you step bare foot, your feet sink into the lush, soft strands of the carpet.

He puts the brandy to one side and pours me a glass of wine.

‘So what’s for dinner?’, I ask.

‘Salt-crusted grilled fish with lemongrass’, he says proudly.

‘You are full of surprises! Who knew you were a cook?’

‘I have many talents’, he says, looking over his glass at me.

I blush lightly. I have no idea what to say in response.

We settle down to dinner, Nicholas entertaining me with stories from his childhood, and the rivalry he and his older brother, Jonathan, had as boys.

‘I used to scribble out his grades on his school work and replace them with E’s and F’s’, he laughs, ‘he used to get so angry when Mum and Dad made him do more homework to make up for it’.

‘I wish I had siblings’

‘They’re not all they’re made out to be’

‘No, you’re so lucky to have that one person who understands…’, I trail off. ‘…I remember being seven and finally realising that Mum and Dad divorcing meant I wouldn’t get a little brother or sister to play with.’

I don’t have to tell Nicholas the story, we’d never talked about it, but of course he knew, the whole world knew. My parents divorced when I was five. They continued to live in Clarence House, albeit in very separate apartments, for my sake. When I left home for university, Mum wasted no time in moving to a secluded country home in Surrey. I’d resented her for it ever since. For leaving me. For leaving Dad.

I snap myself out of it as Nicholas says, ‘yes well, silver linings and all that.’ I can see I’ve made him uncomfortable. He changes the subject and my family aren’t mentioned for the rest of the meal.

After a chocolate soufflé, we head over to the living area. I’m a little woozy from the wine and would love to put my feet up and sink into the couch, but it’s hard on the back and sides, and I sit awkwardly upright as Nicholas sits next to me, looking all the more glamorous, his arm draped over his arm rest.

‘Get comfortable’, he insists.

I shuffle backwards into the couch, holding my wine in one hand, doing my best to look casual.

Nicholas swirls the wine in his glass. ‘So I know it’s a bit short notice for someone like you, but my father’s hosting our annual Highland Fling next month, and I wondered if you’d like to accompany me?’

‘Will you be dancing?’, I giggle.

‘Yes, of course, and I’ll be in a kilt’

I almost ask him if he’ll wear the kilt in the traditional way, with nothing underneath, but I stop myself. He raises an eyebrow as if he’s expecting me to ask that very question.

‘I’ll check my diary’, I say instead.

Nicholas’ face drops slightly, giving him a look of an abandoned puppy on the roadside.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine though Nick! Best not double book myself’, I say cheerily, placing a hand on his knee to reassure him.

‘Good’. He reaches to my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear before resting it on my shoulder. Tilting his body toward mine, my heart starts to beat uncontrollably. He’s taken that small gesture as a green light. Shit.

Nicholas is inches away from my face when I panic, ‘I can’t!’, I say, my voice going to liquid.

He stops, but doesn’t pull away, his face still ludicrously close to mine given what I’d just said.

‘You can’t?’

‘I mean I won’t…I mean…just not on the first date’, I manage a smile.

I’m lying; I did mean ‘I can’t’. A Freudian slip. How could I kiss this man after kissing another yesterday? How could he compare? I shake the thought of Ben out of my mind.

Nicholas pats my knee, ‘of course’.

‘Could I use the bathroom?’, I say, hoping to change the subject.

‘Through the passage, second on the right’. I think I hear a hint of annoyance in his voice.

I amble back from the bathroom a few minutes later, looking at the art work in the passage as I go. Next to the doorway that leads back to the living area is a small, wooden telephone table, with a telephone and a pile of documents sitting on top. The one messy thing in Nicholas’ home, I think to myself.

My father has always said I have an inquisitive mind; anyone else would call it nosy. I reassure myself that I’m just getting to know him better as I flick nonchalantly through Nicholas’ papers. A single sheet at the bottom of the pile catches my eye.

25/07/2163

Invoice

Elliot Mason Private Catering

2 course meal x2 £250.00

I push the papers back into place, smarting from my discovery. Part of me is endeared that he would go to such lengths for our date. The other part, the niggling part in my chest, is annoyed that he lied to me. It’s the cynical princess that wins. I have to test him.

‘So’ I say as I re-enter the room, where Nicholas is clearing away the glasses, ‘what are you going to cook for me next time?’

‘Ha! Well next time, we’ll be at the Highland Fling, so I won’t need to’, he gives me a small wink.

Forcing myself to come to my senses, I thank him for the evening, and promise to get in touch. So what if he paid a chef and lied about it? Surely that proves he likes me?

Maybe that niggling feeling I’ve felt all night isn’t my doubt, maybe it’s guilt.

I have to tell someone.

***

I drum my fingers across the desk in an erratic beat as Maggie reals off my commitments for the coming month. Our monthly diary meetings were her idea; a way to keep me organised and for us to merge my work diary with my personal one.

‘The weekend beginning Saturday, August twenty-eighth, you have free…’

‘I’m in Scotland that weekend’, I say, distracted by a fly buzzing near the window, trying to escape.

‘Ok, for the whole weekend?’ Maggie never asked for specifics, where I was going and who with were my business. Nevertheless, I usually told her anyway.

I get up and open the window, releasing the fly to the world, ‘I’m not sure yet, it’s the Dunrobin Highland Fling, I might come home the next day’.

She scribbles something in her diary, as we discuss the last few days of August for a couple of minutes. I’m eager to leave, I hate meetings. I’m always the fly trying to escape from the window.

‘Just one last thing Ma’am’, Maggie picks up a large, thick envelope. ‘This came for you at the office, I presume you were expecting it?’

She hands it to me and I pull out the contents; a navy blue information pack, with the words ‘Marion and James Evans Trust’ in white writing on the cover. My heart skips a beat.

Opening the folder, I find a compliments note written in scrawling, spiky handwriting,

‘In case you couldn’t find the email address,

Ben Evans’

I’m convinced Maggie can hear my heart humming.

‘It’s from Ben Evans, about the Trust’, I say, my mouth dry.

‘Is he wanting you to get involved?’ Maggie asks, more interested in her paperwork.

‘Um…I don’t know’, I stay glued to the spot, staring at his disjointed penmanship, wondering what it says about him.

‘Are you ok Ma’am?’

When I look up, Maggie is looking at me, a slightly concerned expression on her face. It’s not like me to be so quiet.

‘I kissed him’. The words are out before my brain can stop them.

‘Mr Egerton, Ma’am?’

‘What?’, she thinks I’m talking about Nicholas, I had told her about the date in a fit of nerves on the way back from the awards. ‘No, not Nicholas…Ben, that night, I don’t know what happened, one minute we were talking, the next…’

Maggie’s eyes widen for a milli-second, then settle. She is truly the calmest person I know.

‘Are you planning to see each other again?’

‘I don’t know, I mean of course not! I’m seeing Nicholas, it was just a moment of madness’, I blurt out.

‘Are you worried?’, she says, trying to find the source of my angst.

‘About what?’

‘That he may speak to someone?’

Her innocent question hits me in the chest like a freezing snowball on a winter’s day. I hadn’t even considered he might talk to someone, and by ‘someone’, Maggie meant the press.

‘He wouldn’t, would he? I mean, why would he?’, the panic in my voice is rising by the second.

‘For publicity, press attention…any number of reasons Ma’am’

‘Oh shit’. How could I be so stupid?

Maggie tries to placate me, ‘I can get in contact with his team, make sure he knows any such action would be deplorable’

‘No! No, it’s fine, I’ll speak to him myself’, I scan the room, my mind buzzing.

‘I’m not sure that would be advisable’, she says calmly.

I ignore her against my better judgement, ‘I should see him in person, yes, that’s what I need to do, I need to see him.’

***

Queen’s Club, London

Maggie knew it was an excuse, I knew it was an excuse. But that wasn’t enough to stop me.

I’m well known around here, visiting every month or so to play a quick game of tennis. Ben and I had spoken about it that night, he had told me he comes here often, and after a few discreet phone calls from Maggie, I had discovered he’d be here training today.

Walking towards the lawns in my tennis whites and neon pink trainers, I scan the area for any sight of him and it doesn’t take long before I do. Swinging his racket forcefully against his training partner’s forehand, he bounces around the court, sweating head to toe in the August heat.

I stand and watch for a few minutes, admiring the shapes his body can make under such speed, until his partner relents and goes to find some shade. Ben heads over to a bench on the side of the court, sits down and leans back his head, pouring water from his bottle all over his face, before gulping the rest down.

I stride towards him purposefully. I am here for a reason.

I see him squinting like he’s seen a mirage. A grin passes over his face as I approach.

‘Morning, how are you?’, he says simply.

‘Good thanks, and you?’, I say. Casual. Be casual.

‘Good, good’

I stand in front of him, an expectant silence between us. Say something clever, Cora, or funny. Say anything. Speak for God’s sake!

‘I got your information pack, thank you!’, I say with a squeak.

‘Well, I noticed there hadn’t been any emails from you’, he shrugged. ‘I thought you might have been avoiding me.’

I laugh like a deranged idiot, ‘why would I avoid you?’

‘Because you kissed me’

I’m startled by his bluntness and stumble over my words before I realise what he’s just said.

‘Wait a second, you kissed me’, I say indignantly.

‘That’s not how I remember it’, he leans down to re-tie his shoelaces.

I open my mouth to bite back, then realise what he’s doing. ‘Nice try’.

‘Aha, she’s discovered a sense of humour at last’, he says, looking to the sky playfully.

I sit down next to him; I need to bite the bullet. ‘I have to ask you something…’, I say tentatively.

‘Go on’

‘Have you…told anyone about what happened?’

‘Nope, why?’

‘I just had to check’

‘For?…’ He places his elbows on his thighs and studies me.

‘If it got out, well, it would be a nightmare; I would really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence’, he rolls his eyes. ‘Is there someone in particular you don’t want to find out? A boyfriend, perhaps’

My heart jumps into my throat. ‘No!’ I say it a little too quickly. ‘But, I’ve been on a date, since…it happened’

Why did I just tell him that?

A flicker of disappointment passes over his face.

‘So you‘re just worried I’ll use you for publicity?’, a darkness clouds his voice.

‘No, I-’

‘Cora, I’ve been in the public eye long enough to know how it works, I’m not interested in making the Sunday papers, I just want to play tennis’

‘I’m sorry, it would be stupid of me not to check’, I say.

He nods in agreement, ‘I appreciate you coming to me yourself’

‘See, I told Maggie that would be best!’, I can’t wait for the chance to rub that one in her face.

‘So Maggie knows does she?’, he raises both eyebrows. ‘And yet I’m getting the lecture about keeping my mouth shut!’

Crap. ‘She’s the only person I told, I swear’, I say, panicking.

Ben laughs, that glorious, big laugh, ‘I couldn’t give a shit who you tell’. There’s that bluntness again.

I want to hit him with my racket; this man knows how to break me into a sweat.

‘As you’re here, do you fancy a game?’, he motions towards the court.

‘With you?’

‘No with the Pope, yes with me. I heard Bejar offered you lessons, I think you can do better than him’, his deep brown eyes dart across mine.

I force Nicholas back into my mind like a shoehorn. Don’t flirt, don’t flirt.

‘Well you do need help on that forehand’, I tease.

We head over to the court where we hit a few balls around, Ben giving me some pointers along the way. As we finally get into a game, unsurprisingly, he wins every point. All but one, when he hits the net.

Later as I walk him to the changing rooms, I can’t help but gloat. ‘A point against a tennis champion, that’s pretty good going.’

‘One measly point! And it was only because I was distracted by those ridiculous trainers!’, he looks down at my neon pink feet.

It usually takes an age for a new friend to feel like they can tease me. I smile to myself, grateful that he just didn’t ‘give a shit’.

‘I’m sure you’re better at other things’, he pats me on the shoulder unaware of the glow it ignites inside me.

‘I am’, I try and sound mysterious.

‘Like?’

I say the first think that pops into my mind, ‘like the Highland Fling’

Ben finds this hilarious, of course he does.

‘I bet you couldn’t do it, I bet you’re too “manly” to even try’, I hold his gaze.

‘Try me’, he says, his voice deep.

‘There’s a party on the twenty-eighth, my friend…the guy I’m going with, it’s at his home, a big do, I’ll send you the details…if you’re not too much of a wuss, that is’

What am I doing?

‘Great’, if he’s registered that I’m going there with a date, he doesn’t show it.

‘Great, see you then’, I flounce off , my face on fire, my heart thumping.

‘Uh Cora!’, he calls after me.

I turn around.

‘You’ll probably need my number, to send me the details?’

‘Oh yes’, I blush.

I walk away with my hand gripped around my racket, Ben’s number in my phone, and his eyes on my back.

This has suddenly become very real.

What have I done?

#royal fanfiction #katefiction

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years

Text

Burned Part 21

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 21: Louise through her pregnancy

Louise slowly regained consciousness. She’d never fainted before in her life so the experience was frightening upon waking.

“Easy.” A voice soothed when she tried to sit up too quickly and got another wave of nausea. A gentle hand guided her back onto the sofa she was lying on. "Can't get up too fast."

“Where am I?” Louise blinked a few times and looked around.

“Birmingham.” Polly smiled and rested a damp cloth on the woman’s forehead. “You fainted, luckily Alfie caught you just in time.”

She felt uncomfortably clammy and still dizzy. “Where is he?”

“Downstairs with the other men.” Tommy’s aunt answered. “Had to push him out of the room to give you some space to breathe.” Polly had been taken aback by how devoted Alfie appeared. He’d come upstairs in a full panic with his wife in his arms. He shouted that they needed an ambulance but Polly was quick to calm him down. She wasn't aware the man had such a capacity to care.

Louise closed her eyes, relieved that everything was okay. She took a few deep breaths and feeling began to return to her hands and feet. Still, nausea lingered.

“When are you due?”

The question alarmed her. Had Alfie told Polly about the baby? She thought they were keeping it under wraps at least until they couldn’t hide it anymore. “I uh…I don’t know…” She opened her eyes.

“It’s okay,” Polly assured her and removed the cloth from her forehead. “I won’t tell anyone, not even Tommy.”

Louise nodded slowly. “I should be ten weeks along, I think.” She answered.

“Here, try and sit up to drink something.” Polly helped Louise prop herself up against the arm of the sofa. She handed her a cold glass of water. “Do you want to know the gender?” The older woman asked.

Louise took a few sips of the water and frowned with confusion. “I didn’t know it was possible to know before they were born.”

“Some have a gift for it,” Polly informed her.

“Huh…” Louise smiled slightly. “Thank you, but I think I’ll wait. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise for Alfie. He's impatient but sometimes likes to be surprised by good things.”

That’s when her husband burst through the door. “She alright?” He’d waited long enough downstairs and refused to linger around another second. He trusted Polly wouldn't harm Louise, but he was still on edge about the pregnancy.

“She’s perfectly fine,” Polly assured him. “She probably just didn’t eat enough this morning. You need to make sure you’re getting enough food for the baby.” She told Louise and stood up.

Alfie frowned when she mentioned the baby. He hadn't said anything to the woman when he brought her upstairs. And Louise had agreed they wouldn't tell anyone. “Right…”

“I’ll let you two have a moment,” Polly said and left the room.

Louise finished the water and saw the look of worry on his face. “I didn’t tell her.” She clarified. “She just figured it out. Says she could tell me the gender of the baby too.”

“Gypsies,” Alfie muttered with an eye roll and went to kneel by her side. “You sure you’re alright? Fucking scared me half to death when you just fell over like that.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it either.” She touched his cheek. “But I’m alright now. Guess I can't skip breakfast again like that.” She smiled and tried to ease the tension on his shoulders.

“Shouldn’t’ve brought you here. Didn’t want you to hear all that.” His jaw clenched. He should've trusted his initial gut reaction when she asked to accompany them to Birmingham. Small Heath wasn't a place for her.

“Not even when you said I was an angel?” The color began to return to her face.

He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m sure, right, that you already knew.”

“You’re sweet, Mr. Solomons.”

“And you, yeah, are the fucking love of me life, Mrs. Solomons.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

After the fainting spell in Birmingham, Louise was put on bed rest for at least two weeks. She returned to Inglewood for fresh air and took along some medical books she’d requested from the library. It would help pass the time in the dead of winter without him in the countryside. Alfie eyed the books when he drove with her to Surrey.

“What’re those for?” He grunted when he slid into the backseat of the car.

“Just something to read while I’m on bed rest.” She answered simply.

“Yeah? Something ‘bout cancer in there?” He asked when the car began to start down the road.

“So what if there is?” She challenged and side-eyed him. “I can read about whatever I want.”

“That wasn’t me point.” He grumbled and fidgeted with the rings on his finger. “M’just saying, Lou, you shouldn’t waste your fucking time. There ain’t anything in that book that’s gonna heal me. The doctor knows what he's talking about, don't he?”

Her husband’s cynical view didn’t deter her. “I can still read them.” She pointedly looked away from him. She rested a hand on his knee but kept her eyes focused on the streets of London passing by them.

He grumbled but didn’t put up a fuss. Instead, he focused on her hand. It never failed to make him feel blessed, albeit confused. She was petite to begin with, but something about the delicate nature of her hand baffled Alfie. Especially when she chose to remain so close to him. The odd comparison between her and him was ever-present. Her skin was pale from the persisting English winter, soft from floral-scented creams she’d bought from Paris during their honeymoon. The sapphire on her engagement ring shone just as brightly as the day he picked it out for her. She was diligent in keeping both it and her wedding band clean and polished.

Such ornate beauty compared to him. He picked up her hand, letting it rest in his palm. His tattoo just visible, several scars poked out from under his sleeve, his cancer was beginning to spread across his already rough hands. Marred and worn down, he never wanted to taint her appearance. Yet she never moved far away. Her orbit was snug around him. A magnet undeterred by disfigurements.

Precious and the rings on her finger reminded him that she was his. His ring, the one he loved the most, reminded him that he was hers. He smiled to himself and lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles.

She glanced over and smiled. “I have a present for you back in Camden.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “So I hafta wait till I get back to see it?”

��“Yes, you’ll have to be a bit patient.” Louise teased. “It’ll be good practice for you. Children require patience, Alfie.”

“I can be patient, love. I would wait for you for decades if I had to.”

~~~~~~~~

Alfie returned to Camden Town the next morning. Louise had managed to convince him to stay the night at Inglewood. As she’d instructed, he returned home and went into the china cupboard in the parlor. On the second shelf was a box.

He sat down, resting the box on his lap to open it. A folded note rested on top of the white fabric that was folded inside. His wife’s handwriting was neat and clean across the piece of parchment.

For you for Yom Kippur. These past few days, I’ve found myself very upset with God. I could not understand why he would allow such a thing to happen to the person I love so dearly. And yet, I know that He must see the same good in you that I see. These trials we face will be difficult, but I am confident that we will come out just as strong. But I leave a lot of it to you, as there’s only so much I can do as your wife. I hope that you find the strength that I know you have to fight this adversary. You are not the man that others make you out to be. You are the man I love. And who God loves as well. I’m sure of that.

Love, Lou

Alfie felt overwhelmed when he finished reading the note. He closed his eyes for a second so he wouldn’t cry. Only his wife could bring him to tears with just written words. He took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes and taking out the present. It was a beautifully made tallit with blue stripes near the hem and the traditional knotted fringe. He smiled and held it for a long while, sitting motionless in the parlor.

~~~~~~~~~

It snowed a few days after Louise arrived at Inglewood. The grounds covered in a good deal of sparkling snow and icicles forming on the eaves of the home. It was a sight to see the crystal scenery left behind, but the freezing temperature was hard to fend off with only fires and quilts. But the cold didn’t keep her from leaving the drafty home. Bundling up in her fur-lined coat and Alfie’s scarf; she made her way to the stables. The groundskeeper had cleared the path, knowing that the lady of the house always made the journey to see the horses no matter what the weather was.

Alfie made sure Louise wouldn’t ride Paris until after the baby was born. Although the mare was very sound and well behaved after training from May's groom, one could never be careful enough. God forbid something should happen and she should fall off. And although it made her sad, she knew it was a wise decision. She wouldn't risk the safety of her child and there was plenty of time to ride after the baby was due. So she left it to the groom, Mickey, to exercise the mare in her absence.

The black Friesian poked her head out of the stall when she heard the barn doors close. She nickered softly to her owner, her ears pointed forward in excitement.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Louise smiled and reached into her pocket for a few sugar cubes. “To much snow to go outside?”

The mare’s lips were careful as she ate the treats from Louise’s hand. When she was done, Paris stretched out her neck to sniff at her coat.

“That’s all I’ve got for you.” Louise laughed softly and stroked her cheeks. “I’ll come back with more later today.” She promised.

Paris snorted and lowered her head, allowing her owner to lavish her with attention. Her big brown eyes slowly closed.

“So gentle.” Louise murmured affectionately. “You’ll be so happy to meet the baby, won’t you? Such a fierce looking beast, just like Alfie.” She giggled and sighed. “Of course he’ll be perfect.” She pressed her forehead to her neck. The mare’s winter coat was warm against her face. She could hear every breath Paris took. “I’m not worried about him.” Her voice was nearly silent as she spoke to her horse. “Not at all. I’m worried about the rest of the world. I’m worried what the Shelbys have brought to our doorstep.”

Her mind couldn’t help but replay the conversation Tommy and Alfie had in the cellar. Eleven men. All of them willing to do anything to eradicate the Shelby family, even if it meant harnessing the power of other firms. For all she knew, Luca could have already visited the bakery. She doubted Alfie would tell her right away lest she panic. Certainly, the boxing match would attract attention from all sides. The Shelbys weren’t hiding away. They were standing out in the open with targets painted on their backs. But Louise had little faith that the Italians would ever hit their mark. The Shelbys were good at getting out of trouble.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t cause collateral damage in the process. Could Louise and Alfie be the collateral damage this time around? Or would it be the cancer that took Alfie away from her? It remained to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The winter melted away into spring in due time. Inglewood’s grounds began to flourish again. Louise remained in Surrey instead of traveling back and forth with Alfie. It felt safer and was certainly a calmer place to stay while pregnant.

One Thursday, Alfie returned to Inglewood after being two weeks away. He was anxious to see Louise and was sick and tired of being separated. His moods were like night and day depending on where he was. In Camden, everyone knew to tread carefully. Little things would set the man off and he wasn’t holding back on punishments. But when he returned home to Louise, his short temper dissolved into nothing.

He stepped out of the car and glanced at his pocket watch. It was nearly lunchtime so he assumed Louise was inside or maybe on the patio because the weather was beautiful.

Evelyn greeted him at the door. “Louise is by the stables.” She told him. “I figured you could see if she wanted lunch.”

Alfie furrowed his brow. “She out there alone?”

“’Course not.” The young woman, as well as the rest of the staff, knew it was unwise to let the pregnant woman of the house out without an escort. Louise tolerated it, although she thought it would be nice to take a walk by herself. But Alfie insisted, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If he couldn’t be there to protect her, someone else had to be.

What Louise didn’t know was Luca Changretta had already graced him with his presence. He’d stayed in Camden a little longer just to make sure things were in order. Truly, the man was caught between a rock and a hard place now. Luca would not take no for an answer although Alfie had told him to fuck off many times. If Alfie made enemies with the Americans, he very well could be signing his wife’s death certificate. If he made enemies with the Shelbys, he was signing his own. He was nearly certain that Tommy would spare his wife but Luca would not.

So he made a deal with the devil and come time for the boxing match, Italians would be there. And it was all because of him.

“Right.” Alfie nodded. “I’ll ask her ‘bout lunch.” He agreed and started to head around towards the stables.

Louise was standing by one of the fences, chatting with the stable hand. May Carleton’s groom was leading Paris around in a circle on a long lunge lead.

Not wanting to spook her, Alfie called out her name as he approached. She turned and a bright smile instantly formed on her face. She trotted a few steps over to him. He embraced her tenderly, kissing her hair. “Sorry I’ve been long.”

“That’s alright, as long as you’re here now.” She murmured and touched his cheek.

“Fucking hell, look at you.” He held out his arms to see how much her bump had grown since he’d been away. “Look ready to pop!”

She couldn’t help but giggle and lightly smack his arm in reprimand. “Stop it, I still have weeks to go.” She reminded him. “I don’t want to get any bigger than this.”

“Nonsense, you look beautiful. Glowing.”

“You’re only saying that to flatter me, Mr. Solomons.” She retorted and stuck her tongue out at him.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, love.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked over to the fence where she had been standing. “You well, Aidan?” He greeted the stable hand.

“Yes, Mr. Solomons, thank you, sir.” The young man replied politely. “M’afraid Paris has gone a bit lame though.” He reported.

Louise sighed and rested her arms over the top of the fence. “Yes, she must’ve been playing in the field and stepped on a stone. Poor thing.”

Alfie watched the mare plod around. Her right front was limping, the hoof dragging across the ground. “Will she be alright?” He couldn’t imagine how upset Louise would be if something happened to the mare. Especially when it had been so long since she’d been able to ride.

“Should be fine with some rest.” Aidan nodded reassuringly. “Nothing too severe.”

“Well, let me know if there’s anything else that needs to be done. May should be able to handle things as well.”

Louise rested a hand on her abdomen. “I think I need to sit.” She said and glanced over her shoulder. “My feet are hurting a bit. They've been such a bother.”

“Of course, love. Let’s get you inside.” Alfie thanked Aidan and led her back to the house. “How’re you feeling other than that?” He wondered. “No pains?”

“No, things have been going very smoothly.” She nodded and walked slowly alongside him. “How have you been? Getting into trouble?”

“Trouble?” Alfie chuckled. “Me?”

“Oh, of course. My Alfie would never get in trouble.” Louise laughed softly.

“That’s right, perfect angel.” He grinned cheekily and stopped to pull her close. “I love you to bits. I fucking missed you. Like the sun were gone.” He cradled her face in his hands.

“Then you shouldn’t go away for so long next time.” She replied coyly and drew him close for a deep kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Alfie could finally rest at ease. The two weeks he was in Camden he didn’t sleep very well. He was always afraid something would happen. During the day, he was too busy to ruminate on his worries. But in the still of the night, he had nothing to think about but his expecting wife.

Now that he was back in Surrey, he could relax knowing she was right by his side.

“I hope Cyril’s kept you in good company.” Alfie raised an eyebrow when he spotted a few tell-tale strands of dog hair on his pillow.

Louise looked a little sheepish as she lay down in bed. “You know he’s gotten more protective.” She tried to defend herself. “Besides it’s lonely without you in this big bed.” She pouted.

He sighed and brushed the fur off. “Can’t blame you.”

The bullmastiff plodded into the bedroom and eyed Alfie. He walked over to Louise and rested his chin on the bed. His sad eyes looked up at her.

“I’m sorry, love, you’ve been replaced.” She chuckled and patted his head.

“Spoiled mutt.” Alfie rolled his eyes at how much his wife coddled the dog. “C’mon, Cyril, you can sleep on the end.” He let the massive dog curl up on the foot of the bed.

Louise happily cuddled up next to Alfie, snuggling into the crook of his arm. “Here, I’ve got a surprise.” She reached for his hand and rested it on her stomach.

“What’d you mean?” He looked confused but let her gently press his fingers against her.

“Sh…just wait.”

Patiently, the two remained there almost motionless. Then, like a sudden spark, Alfie felt a small pressure against his hand. His lips parted slightly in shock. “Lou…”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it just started happening a couple days ago. At first they just felt like butterflies in my stomach but now it really feels like a kick.”

“Fucking hell.” Alfie let out a stunned laugh, not moving his hand away from her stomach. “Does it hurt?” He had a hard time imagining having something kicking at you from the inside.

“No, but I’ve still got some ways to go. Might kick a bit harder later on.” Her thumb rubbed circles over the top of his hand.

“That’s…that’s really something.” He really couldn’t put to words how he felt. It was overwhelming because it was the first physical touch from their child. The first movement of this brand new life. It was surreal and for a moment, Alfie wondered whether or not it was truly happening. He scrunched up his nose and stared at his hand over her stomach. “Oh, Lou, I’m fucking terrified.” He admitted shakily.

“Of what?” Anxiety struck her face. “Alfie, did something happen in Camden?”

“No, no.” He waved her off. That was only partly a lie. Something had happened in Camden but that wasn’t the only thing worrying him. “Terrified of that little bit in there.”

She sighed in relief and smiled. “Scared of your own child?” She reached up to smooth her fingers through his unkempt hair. "Of all the things you could be afraid of."

“Well,” He rolled his eyes and huffed out a grumble. “M’scared about the whole…fathering thing I guess. It’s fucking silly, innit?”

“Alfie.” Louise drew his eyes back to her face. “I haven’t the faintest clue how to be a mother. Does any parent truly know when it's their first child?”

“S’pose not. Should be all instinct, yeah?” He shrugged sheepishly because he still felt unsure of himself. “I’m excited, right, I am. Guess I just never thought I’d end up in a place like this.”

“What sort of place?” Her hazel eyes were warm as she rested her head on his shoulder. She wanted to distract him from his worries and instead focus on the good things happening in their life together. “Describe it to me.”

“Alright love, you want a story?” He teased playfully earning a pout. “Right, this place…ain’t like something you read in a fairytale, is it?” His arms wrapped snug around her, keeping her as close as her growing stomach would allow. “But s’beautiful. Lots of things ‘bout it are beautiful. The house is a fucking palace, innit? Beautiful gardens and pastures. Beautiful horse and a handsome looking dog.”Cyril glanced over at Alfie as if he knew he’d mentioned him.

Louise laughed. “A very handsome dog.”

“Very handsome.” Alfie grinned. “But you wanna know the most beautiful part of this place is?” He murmured.

“The man of the house.” She replied matter-of-factly.

“Ah, no.” He shook his head. “Bit funny looking, ain’t he?”

Louise frowned and lifted her head. “Absolutely not. He’s stunning in every way.” She argued.

Her husband smiled and held up a hand. “Now, hang on, this is my story. You can tell me your story tomorrow. ‘Sides I was just getting to the best part.”

She wanted to correct him again but decided to let him have a bit of fun. “Fine, continue.” She relented and rested back against his chest.

“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead before continuing. “As I were saying, the most beautiful thing ‘bout this place is the woman who lives here. Fucking gorgeous. Looks beautiful in every color imaginable. Real posh, but has a big heart. ‘Cause that’s the most beautiful thing ‘bout her. How she can love someone like me. Ain’t never had anyone care so much. And I’ve never cared about someone else so much. Now she’s carrying our child.” His hand returned to her stomach. She laced her fingers with hers and let their entwined hands rest there. “There’ll be a family living here. Beautiful family. And m’fraid you’ll have to wait to find out more. ‘Cause we ain’t there yet.”

Louise smiled contently. She raised her head a bit to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Soon.”

“Yeah, love, soon.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams

Tag list: @vehement-care @kimmietea @eleventhdoctorsangel @fire-treasure-iii

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #series #ofc #oc

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disposalqueen · 2 months

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thelibraryiscool · 4 years

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“... Women also predominate in accounts of gathering and scavenging activities associated with the commons and wastes. The berry gatherers and besom makers of Surrey were women. Women and girls, in gangs and independently, cockled and musselled around the Lancashire coast and along the shores of the Wash. Although all family members took pride in their pig, mothers and children were particularly creative in their use of humble resources in its fattening...”

“... Women were also the principal gatherers of fuel: in Cornwall they would cut furze in early summer from thickets up to ten feet high, in the Midlands collect straw and stubble, and in Surrey bring home prodigious loads of wood or sacks of fir cones picked up in the woods a mile or more away. And they combined this with other responsibilities: George Sturt remembered meeting women bent nearly double under loads of fire wood, "toiling painfully along, with hats or bonnets pushed awry ... occasionally tiny urchins, too small to be left at home alone, would be clinging to their mothers' frocks...”

“... By providing some members of the laborer's family with alternatives to wage labor, the commons liberated them from the beck and call of the farmers. Access to other sources of subsistence meant that, in the short term at least, a wageless laborer would not starve. Nor would his family. In the terms of the times these were not paltry degrees of freedom.”

-- Jane Humphries, “Enclosures, Common Rights, and Women: The Proletarianization of Families in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries,” in The Journal of Economic History, Vol. 50, No. 1 (Mar., 1990), pp. 17-42

#it's a good article #the general idea is that enclosures (among other things) cut off access to other forms of subsistence #making wage labor the only viable option #and as wage labor became more regulated and demanding #women were excluded bc they were no longer allowed to continue childrearing alongside work #allie reads #scholarship #history #jane humphries #quote #adventures in academia

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jmeddows2 · 5 years

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Purple Thunder (Roger Taylor Series) - Part 9

(present/old) Roger Taylor series Notes: Here it is, the longest chapter of PP yet. I don’t want to give to much away, but there is going to be some relief for exactly two people after this one (yeah I’m talking about you reader and Roger lol). Roger is not making a big apperance, but he’ll always be there after this one! be prepared for a fluffy throwback and some cheesy musical contribution by Reader. I’m sorry, but this Taylor Swift song just fits perfectly and I’m obsessed with the album ‘Lover’. Songs from that album will definitely keep making appearances here and there. Anyway.. bare with me, english is not my first language, sorry for mistakes. The song lyrics used in this chapter are from the song “Death By A Thousand Cuts” - Taylor Swift. I recommend you listening to it once it pops up in the story. Feel free to drop me an ask, a message, send in your reaction, further requests etc. But most of all: THANK YOU FOR READING!!! :))) Words: 3.1k Warnings: cursing, cheating

Never would you have thought that a penthouse that light and happy, yet domestic could feel as sad and lonely as it did now. This trip was supposed to lift all the weight from your shoulders, instead of pushing you down with even more sorrow. After a few missed attempts to reach Roger through calling, the chandelier lights in the living room started flickering. Almost like a sign Great. Where the hell was he? You started getting worried. Was he alright or did something happen? Was he on his way back home,or did he stay in a different room in the hotel? The thought that something bad could have happened,basically ate you alive, so you decided to text him. To: Roger 'Where have you gone?‘ 'I need to talk to you‘ How could he just leave like that? Without hearing you out first.?As the time went by you started making up different scenarios in your head, thinking this all was a all a joke to him, a distraction from his crumbling marriage. 'I’m worried. Please come back' you texted again.

The only answer was a money transfer of 10.000£ to your bank account with the remark 'for travels if you decide to come back to London ‘ Seemed like it was goodbye now. But you didn‘t do anything wrong. And instead of spending the whole night thinking about what you could have done wrong this time, you did what you could best, at least as it seemed. Fuck shit up, so 'Doha Nightclub' on Long Island seemed just like the right place to get rid of the empty feeling deep inside and the especially big and empty penthouse. The nightclub seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, but it was certainly easy to get there, given the fact that the penthouse of the Ritz provided you a very own Rolls Royce with a personal driver in tow, who would take you anywhere you wanted. As you entered the dark place that lit up with purple strobe lights, the place was already packed. Girls that wore as little as they could, men with buttoned down shirts all over the dancefloor. It felt posh, nearly too posh for your liking. But now you were there. Would be a waste of gas to ask the driver to go to another place. This would do perfectly fine. Trying not to draw any attention to yourself , you chose a little table to sit at in the back where it was dark, but the seat still visible enough for waitresses to notice once your glass was empty. You were quite amused by the fact that it was a girl’s birthday party. They welcomed her into the club with two signs saying 'Happy Birthday‘. Right next to them was another blonde girl with curves in all the right places holding up a neon yellow sign saying '99% sure that vodka is my soulmate'. It made you chuckle, even with given circumstances. "What‘s your poison, honey?" A girl about your age asked you, holding a tray of shots in her hand. "Anything right now. Any shot would do" you sighed. "Wait a minute“ the girl said taking a closer look at you. "Aren‘t you that singer that got engaged?" "Do you see a ring on my finger?“ you held out your hands for her to inspect. "Ouch“ "How much for the whole tray?“ "Girls are free tonight, honey“ she placed the tray on the table and took a seat on the empty chair. "I‘m Andrea, by the way“ she shook your hand. 5 shots in and you started conversing about god knows what. "....and then I was too broke to stay in LA.. so, I had to come back. Guess there‘s too many pretty girls out there wanting to become an actress." she nearly cried telling stories about failing auditions trying to make in Los Angeles, how her boyfriend left her a week after she had flown out, trying to achieve a dream of hers. It made your heart sting. The cheating part. You were here trying go sulk like a victim, when you‘d been the one doing wrong all along. You didn‘t drop any names, just the context of the story. And she was understanding, even gave you her number in case you came back there again or just needed a friend to ramble on. She moved on to grab another tray and made her rounds. The night was restless. Almost like you expected the moments that were about to happen. You could feel it, boiling deep inside. It felt like a big bomb, that was about to go off and destroy everything. Everything that already had been in ruins. And as if someone heard your call from far away it reached its last strike. A message from Roger. And your heart dropped. 'I don’t think this is a good idea anymore. I’m sorry.' You tried calling him again. This time he picked up. "...Rog? Are you there?” you breathed into the phone, unable to make out his voice in the club.. Impossible.so you went outside where it was quiet enough. "Where are you? I miss you" you slurred into the phone, the alcohol speaking out of you. "(Y/N) are you drunk?” he said and for a moment you thought he might be worried about. "Come back to me Roger. Please” you begged him. "I.. I can’t I’m sorry.. I don’t think this will work” What you didn’t know was, that it took him hours to practice his little speech. To push all the feelings away that had kept building up inside him for over half a year now. First from keeping up with your work, until the last 3 months he actually got to spend with you in person. With his head in his hand, memories kept flashing back in his mind. The movie nights you had, cuddled up on the couch with a fuzzy warm blanket thrown over the two of you. If the movie was too boring, he would just start conversing about how bad it was or keep tickling and cuddling you to distract you from watching it. Or you’d just fall asleep. 3 months felt more like 3 years. And it was everything you ever craved. The nights you spent at his house in Surrey kept replaying. When it was a mild night and not too cold, spending nearly all night long looking at the big statue of Freddie, which was in full display because of the big spotlight Roger had installed. You’d usually sit on a thick and huge blanket on the grass or on chairs, feeling each other’s warmth, no talking, just being in the moment. "Fred would have adored you“ Roger spoke up, which made you look up at him. "Not as much as I adore him" you smiled at him, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "What would he think about us now?" You asked, putting your head back on his chest and arms tightly around him. "He‘d be happy for us” Roger whispered in your hair. "Because I‘m happy. You make me happy." He kissed your temple. "Losing my best friend was the hardest thing I ever had to deal with." You squeezed him tighter to comfort him and it really did put him at more ease. His shoulders weren’t as tense when you started drawing patterns on his back. "I couldn‘t even imagine how you must have felt. But I think losing you would come pretty close to that" you whispered back at him. And now that was just about to happen. Your worst nightmare. "I got to go now..." his voice was small and quiet. Almost quiet enough to hear your heart break. "I‘m sorry..." You felt dizzy, like your feet couldn‘t keep you up anymore. Just then you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. "Hey baby. What are doing out here all alone.“ the stranger pulled you close to him, letting his hands roam all over your body. You felt disgusted. "Stop..“ you tried to push him away. "Stop touching me“ you screamed louder. "Y/N?“ A familiar voice. Dan. "Dan?" "Is that your fucking boyfriend baby?“ the disgusting stranger whispered in your ear before Dan pushed him away. Dan, your guitarist was your savior of the hour. You had last seen him storm out of the studio in London. You wrapped your arms around him, still trying to process everything that had happened in the last 30 minutes. "Oh god, how much did you drink? You smell like a brewery“ he grimaced taking in the unpleasant scent. "Hey, Y/N" he shook you lightly trying to get a few words out of you. "Where are you staying? I‘ll take you there“ "The Ritz“ "Yeah sure“ he laughed. "You and the Ritz." He didn‘t believe you. Because the Ritz wasn‘t exactly what you would go for when touring with your band. Even though you could afford rooms there. Not the penthouse, but smaller ones. "I‘m telling the truth Dan“ "Alright, alright“ he still didn’t quite believe it. “I‘ll take you back to mine. You‘ll need loads of water and a hangover therapy tomorrow. This one‘s going to be massive“ You groaned as he picked you up and carried you to the cab. Then from the cab to his apartment. You didn‘t even know where you were, only that Dan was going to take care of you. He was always the dad of the group. Him and Joe, your bass player never stayed out late, never partied that much. Much to your advantage now. The next morning, you felt surprisingly not that bad. Which was like a miracle. Dan made sure you drank much water before going to sleep and as you got up from his couch to search for the kitchen, the table was already decorated with a large breakfast to help rise your low blood sugar levels. "Good morning Miss Vodka“ Dan looked up from his newspaper, a cup of coffee in his hand a grin plastered on his lips. Clearly because of your miserable state. "Haha“ trying your best to sound as sarcastic as possible. "Good morning and thank you for bringing me here“ sincerely thanking him. "Not a problem, you said something about staying at the Ritz" you downed one of the three ginger shots he prepared for you and put the glass down with a grimace. Damn those are disgusting. "Yeah because I am“ Dan only looked at you, waiting for you to continue the story. "Is Josh there? Oh, fuck right. I didn‘t congratulate you on the engagement. Fuck“ he blushed. You only shook your head lightly for him to stop, he knew you long enough to know you weren‘t mad at him about it. "Do you have a pen and paper?" you asked tapping your fingers next the freshly toasted bread in front of you. "Ah yeah sure“ he got up to grab it. And came back with "Post its? Really?“ "Sorry it‘s the only thing I got. I just moved in here“ he threw his arms up in defeat. You started scribbling. It felt like the words made their own way onto the paper. "Are you like.. writing a song now?“ Dan looked over your shoulder as you placed yet another post it on top of the other 4 that were already full of ink. You only held a finger up, clearly a sign for him to shut up. A polite sign for him to shut up. The lyrics where done in 15 minutes,with you throwing the pen on the table almost like a Mic drop. "Done“ "You‘re crazy“ he stared at you with fascination from across the table. "Can I see it?“ "Only of you agree to make a riff for it“ "Yeah... sure“ He agreed in a heartbeat. And he grabbed the post its, reading out loud: 'Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts Flashbacks waking me up, I get drunk, but it‘s not enough. 'Cause the morning comes and you‘re not my baby. I look through the windows of this love Even though we boarded them up Chandelier still flickering here 'Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not It's death by a thousand cuts I dress to kill my time I take the long way home I ask the traffic lights if it'll be alright They say, "I don't know" And what once was ours Is no one's now I see you everywhere, the only thing we share Is this small town You said it was a great love One for the ages But if the story's over, why am I still writing pages? My heart, my hips, my body, my love Tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave up on me like I was a bad drug Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club Our songs, our films, united, we stand Our country, guess it was a lawless land Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand Paper cut stings from my paper-thin plans My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust Tryna find a part of me you didn't take up Gave you so much, but it wasn't enough But I'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts" By the time he finished reading it, you were sobbing. Having someone else read your material always made you feel vulnerable. But this time, the circumstances made the intensity almost unbearable. "Do you want to talk about? You know we can discuss everything. We always did" he tried to help. "I.. I just want you to come back Dan. Please don‘t leave us hanging. I need you. There‘s no one else to talk to. We will talk this out with Sid. Please I want my best friend back.“ "Ok, let‘s do it“ While Dan kept fiddling around the guitar with 10 post its spread out in front of him, you decided to make a call, you feared since the minute Josh got down on one knee. Rufus. "Yeah?“ A serious tone. No 'hello‘. No 'how are you‘. "Hi Rufus“ "So... guess I’m not going to call you stepmom anytime soon?“ You were speechless. "Was that all?“ He sounded rude, but he didn’t know any better in this moment. "No“ you found your voice again. "He didn‘t let me explain. I never said yes. I‘m not engaged, Rufus!!!!" "You‘re not??? He thought... you are and everyone said you... are you really not?" "No!! That‘s what I‘ve been trying to tell everybody! I‘m not engaged!!“ "Oh god. That man... I swear..“ he continued mumbling things that were inaudible "What do I do now?“ "umm he‘ll be at our concert... the day after tomorrow.. shepherd‘s bush..“ "I‘ll come there“ you enthusiastically announced. "Good... maybeeeee you could get your ass up on stage for a special performance?“ he put on a silly voice, he always did this to make you laugh on tour. "Just like old times?" you could almost see the silly pout he would make, trying to give you puppy eyes. "Ok, just like old times." You never doubted the abilities of anyone in your band and the riff that Dan created was proof enough. With the help of synthesizers, a piano part for the middle of the song was created, undoubtedly having a similar sound to the intro of 'Seven Seas of Rhye'. Intentionally of course. Bless technology you were able to send the sound samples to your other band members back in England. By midnight the track was finished. Ready to be released. And you did. At midnight the day you would meet Roger again. On your way back to England you transferred the 10.000 pounds Roger sent you, right back to him. And the headlines you‘d been avoiding started to make your phone explode. The Sun: 'Y/N spotted drunk and alone in NYC after engagement‘ The Guardian: 'Did she say no to Josh? Here‘s why' Daily Mail: 'New Purple Thunder song indicates Y/N had an affair all along‘ Daily Mirror: 'Y/N leaving Josh for married man?‘ You clicked through all of them. Inspected them. But thankfully no suspicion about who the song could actually be about. The day approached and it was an hour before showtime for The Darkness, but there was still no sign of Roger. You began imagining things, seeing him in the crowd as you peaked through the side stage curtains. But he wasn‘t there. "He‘ll turn up“ Rufus stood behind you, his hand your shoulder. "My dad never lied to me. He sure won‘t start that bullshit now.“ That was Rufus, always trying to make a smile escape your lips. The concert was almost over, when you joined them on stage for the last song and their most popular one. 'I Believe In A Thing Called Love‘. You owned the second verse and chorus and the crowd went crazy after recognizing you as special guest. It wasn‘t until Rufus‘ drum solo that you recognized Roger looking at you in awe from the side of the stage. Roger knew the picture in front of him just too well. Freddie always used to hype him up the way you did with Rufus. His heart swelled and he felt,it would jump out right then and there. You bounced to the beat, head banging to the beat of the drums just like Rufus did, His messy blond hair sticking to his head. Rufus smiled at your reaction and hit the drums even harder. Sadly, the song came to an end, but the adrenaline rush was there. Your heart was beating loudly, but seeing Roger smile proudly, clapping his hands... Boy.. you felt like having a heart attack. He looked more handsome than ever. You bowed down with the whole band, but before you could make your way to Roger, Rufus gave you an encouraging pat on your shoulder. And as you got closer to where Roger was standing, his appearance became even more beautiful. His hair was messy, just the way you liked it. A bit ruffled. His black button-down shirt, with the top two buttons opened and blue eyes shining like the eyes of a little boy on Christmas morning. He still somehow had that boyish look and you adored it. "Hi Rog-" He embraced you in a tight hug, the one‘d been craving since you returned to the empty penthouse. "I‘m sorry. I didn‘t mean to make you feel that way. I should have listened. It‘s all my fault. I‘ve put everything upon you, when I shouldn‘t have. I thought you were playing me. But then again, I should have known that you would never do that. You would never do that...“ he buried his in your neck. "If I fucked it up and you never want to see me again, then I understand. But I wouldn‘t ever forgive myself for that.“ "I love you Roger“ he brought his head to your level again and there it was. "I love you Y/N“ and your lips met. "Well that‘s new“ a surprised Justin (singer of The Darkness) caught your eye. "Guys I’m happy for you “ he smiled was gone quickly after. "Let‘s get out of here“ Roger said quietly in a low voice, grabbed your hand and you snuck out through the back door, to his Kensington flat. You knew you needed to talk about this whole situation again, but that could wait until tomorrow. Old scene, but a new picture. It was you and him on his massive crème couch, a movie on that was not worth watching. So youdozed off first, feeling Roger‘s arms wrapped around you, inhaling his scent. He kept playing with your hair, until he followed close behind. taglist: @oldfashionedlovergirlsblog @nicola2388

#Queen #queen + Adam Lambert #roger taylor #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor x reader #present day roger taylor #present day roger x reader #present day roger fanfic #purple thunder

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