Warning: spooky, language, make out? (Smut in part 2)
Word count: 1220
Summary: You talk Tom into going to a haunted cemetery.
This is based on something I personally went through and I changed nothing but names.
The 3 songs that played are Crossroad Blues by Robert Johnson played by Cream, Superstition by Stevie Wonder, and Black Magic Woman by Santana.
You never planned to be truly terrified that night. You and Tom sat on the couch as Harrison cooked popcorn. A horror movie sat queued on the television. You had talked them into one. It was a foggy evening and you were snuggled under your favorite blanket Tom owned, a soft grey knit one. Harrison slid into the loveseat next to the sofa with the popcorn.
“Everyone ready?” Harrison asked grabbing the remote. You both nodded. He pushed play.
The movie began with a little girl dancing in a bedroom on the second floor of a mansion. Soft eerie piano music played in the background as she swirled. The music grew tenser as she swirled obliviously towards the balcony. You tensed in fear of her falling off. Tom’s arm wrapped around your shoulder.
The front door of Tom’s apartment burst open. You jumped. Two divs, Harry and Sam strolled in. You rolled your eyes at the pair.
“Tom, Haz, you have to come check this out,” Harry began.
“There is this haunted cemetery. Its so creepy,” Sam finished.
“I’m not going back,” Harry said waving his hands around.
“Me neither, mate.”
“Then why would we go there?” Haz asked. Harry fake glared at him.
“Because it’s fun. Because there are ghosts. The tombstones are suppose to look like they’re bleeding sometimes. So you won’t go?” Harry challenged.
“Nope. I’m comfy now,” Harrison said grabbing a huge handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth.
“Where is it?” You asked interested.
“Don’t encourage them,” Harrison said.
Sam told you the location of the cemetery that was located about half and hour away on a quiet road.
“Tom let’s go. What do you think?” You asked. He frowned and squinted at you.
“I don’t know. A cemetery? Bleeding tombstones?” Tom asked as the twins flopped on the couch.
“Yes! It sounds fun. Come on, Tommy,” you said using THAT nickname. He looked at you weighing the options knowing he would be rewarded for going.
“Fine. Don’t make me regret this,” he said letting you go. You kissed him quickly while pinching his bottom beneath the blanket.
So you and Tom ended up in your car on a dark foggy country road. His nice new car was blocked in so your clunker it was. There was no CD player, the windows wouldn’t roll down, the heater was iffy, and the radio would turn off or change stations when you hit a bump in the road. Tom wanted to buy you a new one but you felt uncomfortable with that. You didn’t date him for his money.
The road was pretty much pitch black around your headlights. The houses were off the road that was occasionally lined with stone fencing. It was so dark that you missed the turn that Sam had carefully told you. You stopped in the middle of the road and the bumping turned the radio off.
“This isn’t creepy at all,” Tom said crossing his arms. You rolled your eyes. He was bein a spoil sport.
You put the car in reverse and turned at the correct road. You began driving down the road when the radio came back on. This was weird because you didn’t hit a bump at that time.
“I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees
I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees”
“What. The. Fuck,” Tom said looking at the radio and sitting straighter. “Dude, this is weird. I don’t know about this.”
“Ooh, standin’ at the crossroad, tried to flag a ride
Ooh-ee, I tried to flag a ride
Didn’t nobody seem to know me, babe, everybody pass me by”
Tom turned off the music. You hit a bump and the song came back on.
“Standin’ at the crossroad, baby, risin’ sun goin’ down
Standin’ at the crossroad, baby, eee-eee, risin’ sun goin’ down
I believe to my soul, now, poor Bob is sinkin’ down”
“Let’s go back,” He said uneasily. You were feeling nervous but you were almost there. Sam and Harry had been fine.
“It’ll be okay. If we don’t find it soon we’ll go back, okay?” You promised. He nodded and crossed his arms. You both peered into the darkness. You couldn’t see outside of the range of the headlights as you crept down the road. Sam had said it was on this road but once you got to the train tracks you went too far.
“You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown
You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown
That I got the crossroad blues this mornin’, Lord, babe, I’m sinkin’ down”
“Can we at least change the music? This is creepy?” Tom asked. You pushed a button on the radio.
“When you believe in things you don’t understand
Then you suffer
Superstition ain’t the way, yeh, yeh”
“This is just too weird. Let’s turn around. Darling, please,” Tom said uncomfortably. You felt it too when you ran over a bump. The radio silenced. “That’s the train track.”
“We never saw a cemetery. Okay I’m going to turn around,” You said finding a driveway to turn around in. The sound of gravel crunching was deafening in the silent car. This was very creepy.
You drove slowly back the way you came. The foggy night seemed to press the darkness closer to the car. You still looked for the cemetery but couldn’t see anything for the life of you. You didn’t like that Tom was nervous. You didn’t want to scare him since he didn’t like it much.
When you hit a main road with lights you both relaxed. Maybe you weren’t made to hunt ghosts in cemeteries. Tom turned the radio back on in your car as you drove down the highway.
“Got a black magic woman
Got a black magic woman
I’ve got a black magic woman
Got me so blind I can’t see
That she’s a black magic woman
She’s trying to make a devil out of me”
“Your radio is evil. I’m getting you a new one. That’s just weird,” Tom said. He changed the station to pop for the rest of the ride.
When you got to his apartment Harrison lay sleeping on the couch as Friends played on the tv. You both walked quietly to Tom’s room. He locked the door behind him.
“So you dragged me to that nightmare,” Tom said looking at you slyly. You smiled back. You knew what he wanted.
Tom pushed you on the bed. You pulled him on top of you and wrapped your legs around his waist as he kissed you. He kissed down your neck.
“Don’t ever make me do that again. That was weird,” he said laughing. You couldn’t help but laugh too.
Harrison knocked on the bedroom door. “Are you guys back? What happened? Do I need to get out holy water?”
Tom groaned before sitting up and opening the door. You followed him to the living room to tell Harrison your new ghost story.
“…And we came back. That was so weird about the songs on the radio,” you finished excitedly. “We’re going back tomorrow.”
“We are?” Tom asked whipping his head to look at you in disbelief.
“Yep. Before dark. I’m finding that cemetery,” you smiled confidently.
Casillas was pushed out the door, he didn’t jump. And all the attempts to cover up their sullied white underwear the day after Iker had cried tears the size of pineapple chunks shows how inscrutable the henchmen at Madrid can be.
Alone at the podium, still extolling his Hala Madrid love, Iker took the high road, nobly shutting down against this heinous treatment, the same way he shut down Arjen Robben in the World Cup final, the same way he did for twenty-five years for Madrid. Such astonishing servitude at any club is unheard of. At Real Madrid, it borders on the miraculous. But Saint Iker excelled at miraculous.
This was the most unroyal treatment of a player more deserving than any other in any club’s history. “The unkindest cut of all,” indeed.
Shakespeare got it wrong, though. It should have been “Et tu, Florentino?” – not Brute. But Brute was an honorable man.