➪the one where you’re with a.j. and ghost, your ex, gets out of prison. (requested)
Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, jealousy, mentions of a bad past relationship, toxic ex, unwanted attention, descriptions of fighting, mentions of blood, descriptions of wounds, alcohol consumption, swearing, blood kink....? kinda? never wrote this before heha
Word Count: 8.6k
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
I think redemption’s a very powerful concept, and one that really resonates within the Star Wars storytelling as well.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN April 19, 1981 | @pscentral event 14: your url
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVEEE
my inbox is always open so if you have any requests, ideas or just fancy a chat - feel free to say hello!!!
i write about queen - real and/or film version - the bohemian rhapsody cast, and their characters from other projects. i don’t mind sexual requests as long as it’s nothing offensive or triggering*. i want this to be a safe space, inclusive and positive! also, if i feel uncomfortable with a request (or simply lack inspiration) i just won’t write it - it’s nothing personal!
(*i will try to include warnings if i think anything could upset or harm anyone - if i don’t and you were affected, please message me so i can apologise and include one asap!)
(i have put a ☆ next to the fics below that are some of my personal favourites!)
✦ Memory Lane. ☆
Waiting For The Sun [no longer updated oc series]
Secret [brian’s younger sister au]
Never Enough [famous reader] ☆
The Taylor Family ☆
✦ My Girls. (Birth of May.)
✦ Cheat.
✦ Crying.
Taylor family short asks:
✦ Freddie’s Friendship. ☆
✦ Over Him. ☆
✦ Why Me?
✦ Three.
✦ Crash
✦ Take Two ☆
Golden Girl [famous reader]
✦ Regret [Roger Taylor]
*SIDE A*
*SIDE B*
Note: AU fic written before movie’s release, edited with the real codenames, Seven is already on the team and Five uses guns.
PLAYLIST (Songs that inspired the story)
~~~
Tied up in your basement. Tied up in your own fucking basement. The treatment of a a mole, of a snitch. Nothing else. Your hands hurt, felt sore with the rope tied around them, you weresure about the scars on your skin after all of this. But would there be an after all of this? You doubted.
Billy did his best, he did his best to protect the Ghosts. But every time he hesitated, rolled his eyes, refused to speak he could hear your voice, your muffled screams as you begged for them to stop. You cried all night long, you cried your eyes dry. They splashed your face with glasses of water, cold water, icy water as you gasped before opening your eyes to see Billy, right in front of you. He looked miserable, probably as miserable as you – with eyes half-closed, blood on his sweatshirt, a reddish face but still these gleaming eyes in the dark. Yet, he managed to smile, faintly as he caught your gaze.
A sweet metallic taste in your mouth reminded you that you were probably bleeding more than you thought you were. You breathed heavily as your father passed-by, avoiding your eyes, but he couldn’t avoid you forever. And he knew it, because he looked at you. Somehow, behind his outraged expression you saw pain, regret, probably deception. And with a sight, he approached you, knelt in front of you and took your chin into his hand, much more delicately than he did yesterday as he pressed his thumb and index into your cheeks while Billy cried to make him stop, cried information, exposed himself. And now, you had pain in your eyes too, but more hate than pain.
“My only daughter,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb against your cheek in a cold and displeased tone hiding probably much more. “Why,” he asked, “why?” You refused to reply, looking down at your bare feet, and he began to caress your cheek with his hand. “I love you so much y/n, but I hate you so much at the same time…”
“Same here,” you coughed, you didn’t intend to, but your throat was sore and dry.
“Here, drink some water,” he offered, taking a glass of water standing at the foot of your chair before putting it against your lips. And you drank, as if water was the most delicious beverage on earth.
“Thank you,” you said against your will, relieved yet angry at yourself. You couldn’t stand the mixed feelings he aroused in your heart, you couldn’t stand how poorly he treated people – children – and how poorly he treated Billy.
“You are still my daughter after all,” he murmured before standing up and going to talk to Billy.
~~~
“I will kill the youngster, I will fucking kill him,” One repeated endlessly as he paced back and forth in the room in which the Ghosts held an emergency meeting. Three day, three days without hearing from Billy. All because of this stupid mission.
“I will kill him too,” Seven added, “and then I’ll kill myself for even listening to him when he told me to not shoot! He made a fucking fool out of me…!”
Two only gave them a dark look, her arms crossed on her chest as she glanced at Three who was typing something on the computer. The clicks of the keyboard made the silence unbearable, maybe even more than her teammate’s complaints. Only Five sat in front of a coffee, her head resting against her hand as she looked down on the papers. She was furious, she spent nights looking for some medical records of this man, studying what she found, looking at Four’s records to make sure how much he could handle without any proper care… And she pinned all that on the large board in their plan room. She felt exhausted, but she wouldn’t feel relief until Four was here, with them.
“Listen,” Two finally spoke up, wanting to escape the endless silence she made herself, “we know we fucked up. Four wasn’t the best choice for this mission, I should have…”
“Stop this,” One interrupted her almost violently. “I told him he was the perfect man for this because he knew everything about the house, because he was somehow linked to this and… Fuck, I was the one telling to cut the ties with the living world oh my fuck.”
“If you don’t stop this, I’m going to explode,” Five added, and they all looked surprised at her. “We don’t need to talk, we need to act and Three and I seem to be the ones to actually take the matters into our hands,” she said and Three hummed in approval.
“Fine, I’m looking the guy up in the CIA files,” Two said, before she sat next to Three and began to type herself.
“I’m going out,” Seven said, “I just… I need to be alone with all of this,” he stated. He felt guilty, absolutely guilty about this situation. He had to pull the trigger. He had to… But Four said that he shouldn’t, so he listened to him, just like he did when his squad died. Just like that.
“Going out with you,” One said, not being able to handle the tension in the room himself.
~~~
You looked up at the ceiling, this gray ceiling made of concrete. You always have hated this basement, even more now. Everything smelt like humidity, and the things that the man your worked with one brought for you and Billy to eat weren’t really helping to set a nice atmosphere. But at least, you had something to eat from time to time.
From time to time, they left you alone with Billy, far from you, as far as possible but you were still able to see him, hear him – and so was him, especially when they tortured you. You looked at him, trying to give him a reassuring smile, you tried your best with the corner of your cracked lips, and he smiled back, closing his eyes.
“Why are you doing this,” you asked him, your voice still weak but audible – thanks to the glass of water they made you drink earlier.
“BDSM kink,” he joked. And even in this situation he made you chuckle a bit, making your stomach hurt a bit from the punches you got. But it was worth it.
“You and your sick kinks,” you whispered. “You should have stayed quiet, my father wouldn’t let me die, and you know that.”
“I know that, but I can’t see you suffer anymore,” he admitted looking you right in the eye. “I watched you suffer because of me, I couldn’t screw the things up again as I did three years ago.”
“You did the right thing back then.”
“I’m doing the right thing right now, protecting the one that never gave up on me.” You could see how his smile widened as he spoke about you, and about your support. You couldn’t help yourself but smile too. Maybe too much, and at the worst moment because one of your ex-colleagues entered the room.
“Y/N is soft and flirts with the enemy,” he chanted mockingly, rubbing his hands.
“Fuck you,” you said, a rush of confidence running through your veins.
“Want to taste blood, little girl,” the man asked, standing tight in front of you as you looked up at him.
“Tasted so much blood in my life, wouldn’t be a problem,” you retorted.
“Hey, you,” Billy interrupted and the man turned back, “why don’t you try to hurt somebody your size?” He laughed. The man laughed before approaching Billy, a grin on his face.
“Because hurting you won’t provide more information, pretty boy, but hurting her, over there,” he precised with a movement of his head towards you, “will make you speak and sing and even dance as we want you to. So no, I won’t damage you more than we already did in the first place, I’ll just watch you suffer ad I hurt this lady over there, once my superior you know.”
“You’re a lucky bastard, you’re so lucky that I don’t have my gun right here, with me,” you managed to say in a much more audible voice than before, “you would be dead, just like this girl three years ago.”
“The one you killed because of your undying love for your so-called ‘bestfriend’,” he teased you as he tilted his head looking at you. “Don’t make me laugh more than I already did when this clown spoke. Please, y/n, I thought you were better than that.”
Your blood boiled inside your veins as the man sat in the chair next to the exit and began to look at his phone, ignoring both of you. What annoyed you even more, was how accurate his words were. You killed her as a revenge, because Billy was your bestfriend, your soulmate, and losing him meant losing anything and everything – your sanity first and foremost. Finding him meant the same, just at the moment you found your stability through killing and partying, he stormed in your life again, just to fuck your emotions up and to remember you how much you suffered without him. But you couldn’t be mad at him, because he explained everything to you, because he allowed you to see trough your father… You closed your eyes. What a fucking bad situation to be in.
~~~
“We’re almost in,” Three said as One put a hand on his shoulder looking at the screen on which Three was working.
“So we’re ready. Tomorrow, we strike.”
Xx
Xx
The next couple of days were absolutely brutal, a fact you low keyed enjoyed, not having the time nor energy to overthink what happened between you and Four. Sadly, you still managed to think about it, and blushed whenever you and Four locked eyes (which happened more often than you thought it would). But it was fine! Everything was fine. The only time you really remembered was morning training with him up on the planes. Which had become admittedly awkward.
Other than that One ordered that on top of everyone’s training that you also had to learn more skills, learn from each other’s skills. No one was allowed to have free time. Thus started very awkward ‘classes’ in which Two taught everyone aiming, Three taught everyone basic fighting techniques and Four taught everyone aerobics. Thankfully you excelled at shooting practice and Four’s classes, having been tutored ever since they had joined the team. You weren’t so good at Three’s classes.
Xx
“What the fuck was that Zero?” You grunted, turning to the speaking Three, who was looking just as annoyed as you were, “We spent half an hour going through this.”
One, Two and Four looked bored as their dutifully punched their punching bags. Five was struggling as much as you were and Three was constantly ping ponging between the two of you, almost begging you to remember the proper techniques. He said something in Spanish, some of which you picked up due to One demanding everyone to learn another language during meal times. HQ was starting to feel like a fucking prison.
Three went over what you were doing wrong and you burned bright red, embarrassed for being called out in front of the entire team. All you seemed to be doing these day was blush. God, you needed to get a fucking grip on yourself. You punched the bag harder than usual, feeling skin split across your knuckles but Three gave an approving nod. When he turned back to Five, he let out a rapid string of Spanish that you couldn’t get a word out of before huffing in English, “Fuck it, we’re sparring.”
Sparring. Oh fuck no. You and Five shared a panicked look, knowing that whoever you were partnered up with would absolutely brutally take you down with no hesitation. You closed your eyes, running through the list of numbers, trying to figure out how royally fucked you really were. One was mad at you, Two would not hesitant, Three would maybe hesitant and Four was a whole other situation. Fuck… your only ‘good’ choice would be Three, and he was annoyed enough to bruise you significantly. Which was sad because your body was finally turning back to it’s usual shade, bruises from last mission fading.
Three went through the basic rules, which were all pretty much common sense. The goal was to get the other person on the ground and either be standing or on top of them. Logically, no fights ended when someone just hits the ground but you couldn’t really going around knocking each other out. This wasn’t Divergent. Obviously Three reminded everyone to use the punching and blocking techniques he had taught, before showing you how to tap out and setting boundaries, which was just the entirety of the sparring mat on the floor.
Then he walked down the line, everyone standing to attention, wondering who he was going to pick to verse who. Wow, HQ really was turning into a prison then. Was this what it was always going to be like now? No relaxing ever?
Maybe that was a good thing, you thought, looking down the list of people, finding green eyes watching you back. They looked worried, even though you didn’t understand why. Four knew how to fight, he had lived on the streets for a while before you and One recruited him.
Three passed by you just as you remembered you wanted him to be your sparring buddy. Dammit. Damn fucking distracting eyes. He walked up to One, who accepted the challenge with some witty joke and they went to the mat. It reminded you of all the nervous boys at your high school disco, making their way through the girl pack to ask their crush for the next dance. And then all of her friends watching jealously as their dance, just as the rest of you watched One and Three get into a fighting stance like they were boxers.
You held your breath watching them square each other up before running, throwing punching and ducking. Blocking and charging. It was a weird mix of punches and tackles but quickly One was on the ground and Three was holding out a hand to pull him back up to his feet. You blinked, not seeing how One got on the ground so fast. One was holding his shoulder and looking a bit dejected, sitting away for the group.
“Next,” Three mused, looking between all of you, “Two and Four.”
They walked over to the mat as you realised who your fighting partner would be. Five gave you a wild look back. Panic was starting to kick in. This was crazy, you didn’t even know how to punch.
Two and Four however did and they went back and forth a bit, neither truely striking the other. Two had a very offensive fighting style while Four rathered staying on his toes, a more defensive and evasive fighting style.
Still you winced as Four grunted, slamming into the floor with Two on top, pinning him. Two was fucking merciless. It made you interested in who would win out of her and One, or her and Three. Oh this was going to be a whole new round of betting.
But you didn’t have time to ponder who you would put bets on tonight for tomorrow’s match as Three urged you and Five to the mat now. Two and Four cleared it and Five stood opposite you. You both were confused and scared. There was an awkward silence in which you watched each other warily get into position like One and Three did.
You half heartedly swung at her, knowing your stance was wrong due to Three’s loud huff. Five reacted the exact opposite of what you expected, obviously terrified by your willingness to hit her. Even if the hit landed it would have been a gentle nip to her stomach.
Instead Five evaded your punch. She flung herself at your stomach area and you both crumpled to the ground. You swore on impact, instincts kicking in. You were both on the ground but she wasn’t on top of you which means it was still anyone’s game. You rolled onto your knees, crawling to her, pinning her arms under your knees, pushing into her soft flesh until she gasped, violently bucking you off. Fuck! You immediately found balance again, watching her for the next move. When she tried to jump on you, to pin you, you reacted quickly, pushing her childishly back to the ground, not letting her recover before you pinned her lower body to the ground with a leg and hip, hands finding her wrists to hold them away from helping her. She grunted, shifting underneath your knee, raising her legs up to kick you. While you were distract with her legs, she reached up and head-butted your chest. You overbalanced, clutching your left breast and she managed to climb on top. You struggled, pinned underneath her, even going as far as to biting her arm that was next to your head, holding your wrists above your head.
“Stop, stop!” Three said and you both sat up, out of breath, her checking her newly acquired bite mark. “You guys fight dirty. There was no technique in any of that.”
You groaned, knowing you lost that round. Five was giving you a weird look, holding her bitten arm. Thankfully no blood but her eyes flicked up and you followed them, noticing the expressions of everyone else watching. Shocked, impressed, scared even. “Cat fight.” One purred and you rolled your eyes, accepting Three’s arm up off the ground.
“Where did you learn how to fight like that?” Three asked, helping Five off the ground now. You looked at her, wondering if it was just the subconscious instinctual fighting most females had due to being warned they might have to fight off an attacker one day.
…Well that was fucking morbid.
“I have two brothers.” You said instead. You smiled at the thought of them. Those fuckers loved fighting. You had broken one of their arms once.
“Had.” One said dryly and you smile dropped. Three hummed before claiming class was over. You sighed turning around to apologise to Five for biting her, only to find Four watching you, eyebrows drawn in close, a lip pinched between his teeth.
Xx
Everyone knew some form of basic first aid but on top of that, you were all crammed into the HQ’s infirmary with Five teaching everyone how to pull a bullet out and stitch the resulting wound up, Two’s stomach area being the clear motivation. You were all practicing the stitching on bananas, all to varying degrees of success until One delightfully offered you as training practice for Two’s shooting class and to be the dummy for the resulting bullet pulling/ stitching practice for Five’s class. Thankfully no one took him up on the offer and you just gave him a snarky reply.
You knew why he was so mad at you. He was searching for number Seven, a task he was now having to do completely alone because he didn’t trust you anymore. Not after you revealed Six’s name on the boat. Thus work he usually shared with you, he was having to take the full brunt of. And it was difficult.
Billions of people and you had to find one that was exceptionally skilled and willing to die on the spot, to leave their life that they’ve built behind and join a team, who up until recently, had never been on a mission before. It was difficult to have faith, even more difficult if that new person knew that someone had already died for the team.
One’s anger with you was to the point where you didn’t even know he was travelling to recruit the new Seven. Three had to tell you over breakfast. It quieted down, everyone waiting to hear your reaction to the task you usually did together. They were probably all remembering their recruitment. Two’s was the most difficult, Three was the easiest to convince, Four literally fell into your arms, Five took the longest time between being recruited and ‘killing’ herself, having a few loose ends and Six was, by far, the easiest to find.
Actually it reminded you of your own recruitment. Which is a ridiculous thing to call it because One most certainly didn’t recruit you. If events happened differently, he would never have considered you for the team. Ever. It was sheer luck that you recognised him from the news of his death and pestered him with questions until he, broken down from the months he had already spent with zero human contact, trying to locate a Two, told you everything. It probably didn’t help that you had followed him out to HQ and realised half of the plan on your own. Looking back, it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, to follow a publicly dead billionaire to an abandoned plane field and decide to snoop but you had been in a dark place.
Everyone continued digging into their breakfast as you nodded nonchalantly but underneath the facade your mind was racing. Green eyes in particular were watching you and you knew they could probably see through all the bullshit. He knew you too well.
You hated not knowing. It was half the reason you had followed One that fateful day. You were going to have to break into the files one night and read Seven’s folder, to know who they were, to know their background. You glanced up to lock eyes with Four, cheeks staying their proper colour for once, still pondering how you were going to break into One’s files. You knew it was hypocritical to know everyone and their stories and backgrounds while they still knew nothing about you. Why were you Zero? Why did you join? Why were you the first one One recruited?
You had long ago decided that no one would ever know how or why you had joined, honestly embarrassed with that part of your life. Thankfully One would never tell anyone, terrifyingly strict with secrets.
There were so many bets about you running wild at HQ, asking questions beyond your recruitment. You were constantly being asked questions to help the ghosts collect money. Any tattoos, how many piercings, dropped out of high school? You answered a few smaller questions, earning Two more money than most. Natural hair colour, favourite subject at school, favourite colour?
Green eyes pulled you into the present, blinking at you. Speaking of bets, “Fifty bucks he comes back with another bloke.”
Five smiled over her cereal, happy you hadn’t taken One’s refusal to heart. Three also looked joyous, “You want in? I bet it would be another man too but Four and Five reckon it’ll be a girl. I reckon Four just hopes it’s another girl. We all heard how he rejected you.”
What?
You just blinked.
What!
You looked up at Four incredulously, but he was pointedly glaring at Five, who looked just as confused as you were, and even a little afraid.
Two said something in French and smacked Three who looked a bit sheepish, “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
No shit! You know who also shouldn’t have opened his whore mouth?
You grinned at Three, who flinched at the probable crazy look in your eyes, “Oh no, thank you so much for telling me.” You patted his arm and he just watched, with the expression of someone going to put their hand in a shark’s mouth. Waiting for the violent reaction. They wouldn’t get one out of you. You were mad, definitely, but you weren’t insane.
Not looking at anyone, especially Four, who hadn’t said anything, you left the table, leaving the group to clean your breakfast dishes. Fuck them!
No, you weren’t mad at the group. You lived with seven people, going for months at a time without seeing another human soul. Hot gossip ran through this HQ like nobody’s business. It wasn’t their fault.
You were angry at Four!
What for, the logical part of your brain asked, for rejecting your offer of sex when you were both at an emotional low?
No, that was perfectly fine. You were fine, if a little embarrassed he rejected you. Very embarrassed, in fact. Why did he reject you? Angrily, you ripped yourself out of that rabbit hole of thought. You would just get lost in trying to justify his rejection and it would just hurt your self esteem more. It didn’t matter now anyways. So why were you angry?
It was because he had told everyone! How could he? He must have known that it would be cruel to tell everyone what happened. And although Four swore a lot and jokingly insulted everyone, you didn’t peg him to being cruel. It wasn’t like him. Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did?
And why the fuck did he feel justified to tell everyone like that too? Three made it sound like you had desperately flung your body all over Four and he had thrown you out of his own trailer. He politely, if awkwardly, let you down and you both were trying your best to forget about it. Why was it such a big deal?
It wasn’t. It wasn’t a big deal. You were just embarrassed. And angry. You were still angry. Shame and embarrassment fought over whom could control most of your mind and how much blush to put on your cheeks. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, walking over to your trailer, before realising that you were in a destructive mood and that wasn’t the best location to be. But where else?
Maybe Four’s trailer, you thought with sadistic joy before immediately canceling that thought too, knowing that would just led to a bigger mess. One’s trailer? No, no trailers!
You legs were beckoned to the planes, to paint your body with as many bruises as possible attempting jumps that were out of your skill range. Yet you once again turned away, knowing that was somehow an even stupider idea. Plus being on planes meant Four could come up and find you.
No, you needed somewhere that no one could approach you.
You took yourself out to the shooting range, going through all the safety procedures that Two had taught you before taking your gun off the wall and shooting. You liked the shooting range. No one can talk in the shooting range. These targets were new, so you were absolutely certain that it was you who shot that bullseye in the large target. That would be your first bullseye and no one to witness it. You grunted, now sweating through your light shirt, letting the confidence build with your anger as the sun rose high over your head. You thrived in the heat, sweating and shaking from muscle strain as Two let herself in your shooting cage. She gestured for you to put the gun down, which you did, before pulling off your noise deafening headphones.
She surveyed all of the bullet holes in the targets, noting the progress in your aim, especially in the moving targets (you actually clipped one!). A wicked smiled curled on her face. “Good job.”
You just nodded, changing the clip, leaving the safety on.
“I got these in for you. You’re always complaining about not being able to listen to music. For Christmas.”
You blinked at her in surprised. She was holding out a set of headphones, but you noticed buttons on the side. What? Since when were you doing Christmas? Fuck, did you need to buy everyone a Christmas present now? And since when was Two being nice to you? Was it because of your hissy fit? You blushed but accepted the headphones, noticing the earphones on the inside and a wire that could connect to your phone. Oh, you could kiss her. But would likely get rejected again. You plugged in your phone and looked up to thank you, but she continued, obviously not wanting to hear it, “Now do you want to keep feeling sorry for yourself or do you want to start our lesson.”
There was no choice in her sentence. “Start our lesson.” You said nevertheless and she grinned, pointing out a few tips with your form before letting you use your headphones and shoot again, stopping every now and then to correct you (”And stop shooting to the beat of the song!”). It was either the confidence or the music, but you could see yourself get better and by the end of the day Two confirmed it.
You went to bed utterly exhausted, arm muscles shaking, skipping on would likely be a tense dinner despite Two’s reassurances. In the quiet moments of getting ready for bed, you proudly realised you hadn’t thought of the entire situation, being too busy concentrating on bullets and targets all day. It was either when you were in the shower, head under the water, trying to build up the resolved to lift your sore arms up to wash your arm pits or when you quickly crashed on the bed, but you missed the knocking on your door and this time Four didn’t let himself in.
Xx
In the morning your arms felt like jelly so you ignored the knock at the door that was surely Four to pick you up for training. Instead you felt sorry for yourself and ate your snack stash, skipping on breakfast and lunch, watching Pretty Little Liars (because two can keep a secret is one of them is dead), until Two dragged you out for more gun practice. This time you slacked off, wondering what Six would make of the situation if he was alive. He would probably laugh it off, you realised. He wouldn’t be hiding away or avoiding Four. He would have shrug and make a joke and move on.
And, with little to no resolve but strong shoulder set, you decided to as well.
You didn’t have much of a choice. You trained with Four everyday. You saw the entire team everyday. They were your only friends in the madness that is ‘death’. You could always go back to being a shell of a person, like you were in the beginning, trying to fight for a better world, desperately using music to fill your empty soul, until-
Until Four joined the team and you went out of your comfort zone, finding that the ghosts could help with the culture shock of being a normal living girl with family and close friends to only being allowed to be in contact with a handful of people. At least that your best explanation of it. There was also the cultural shock of not living in the same country anymore and relearning what society was, but that was numbed by the removal of people in your life.
Still, you wanted to skip dinner again, to childishly put off your forgiveness until tomorrow morning, but Two threatened to drag you by your hair and you thought it would be more embarrassing than the actual dinner itself. Thankfully Four wasn’t at the table when you first entered so you smiled at Three and Five, taking deep breaths and feeling anxious. Why were you feeling so anxious? Was it because in the tiny amount of time you locked yourself away you actually missed Four?
In your head, you immediately justified that line of thinking, reminding yourself that it’s natural to miss someone if you were so use to seeing them everyday. The logical part of your brain reminded you that you didn’t miss Three or Five, both of whom you also hadn’t seen, let alone One whom had been gone for a couple of days now.
Nope, you definitely didn’t want to think about that, you were gladly in denial, building yourself up to forgive Four, wishing it wasn’t in front of everyone. Two, who was behind you as you entered the room, started a conversation with Five about something and Three tried to apologise again as you took a seat but you just held up a shaking arm, “It’s alright, honestly and please, just forget about it.”
He smirked at your vibrating muscles and mentioned something about Two working you too hard, which led into a comfortable discussion about shooting people. About as comfortable of a conversation that could be. He offered to massage your arms and you couldn’t say yes fast enough. Fuck you were in pain.
You had ten minutes of pure bliss before Four walked in, carrying a tray, which you assumed dinner was. What was today? Thursday? Yeah it was Four night to cook. It was also your night to do the dinner dishes. Everyone took it in turns.
Eyes locked on yours, surprised to see you at the table, looking almost blue in the yellow light. This kick-started your lungs and you hadn’t realised you had been holding in your breath until he gave a hesitated smile.
You decided not to make it awkward, “What’s for dinner?”
He looked away finally, placing the tray on the table in front of everyone. “Chicken Enchiladas.”
Your favourite. You tried not to think about it too much as he took the seat across from you. Instead you held out a plate with a small smile, which he gratefully took. The table around you sprung to life, everyone else seemingly waiting for the cat fight that didn’t happen. You saw Three sigh and pass Two money and rolled your eyes. Dinner went…fine. It was quieter than usual and Three broke the news that One and the new member were coming back tomorrow around lunchtime. You nodded, thanking him for the information before remembering, “Do we know who it is?”
At that Three broke into a crazy grin, “A man!”
You cheered with Three, holding a hand out to Four and Five, whom both complained but handed money over. Two was smirking. She never placed bets until she was absolutely certain she was right.
Xx
The rest of dinner went normally, an easy conversation falling into place, about childhood shows, all of things. It definitely exposed the culture gap and by the time you were collecting all the plates, you were promising to show Five The Adventures of Bottle Top Bill and His Best Friend Corky. Four helped you collect the dishes, and the other ghosts unsubtly excused themselves while you both walked over to the kitchen.
He was remaining silent so you decided to talk, “If you do the dishes for me, I’ll forgive you for telling everyone.”
He snorted, turning away from you to start filing the sink, “If you come to training in the morning, I’ll do the dishes for you.”
You blinked in surprise and accepted, though staying in the kitchen, grabbing a tea towel. With his back turned to you, you could properly see him, hair messed up and in his face, in a dirty shirt that must have been from this morning’s training. He knew you were still there, and a comfortable silence held in place, both of you working side by side. It was peaceful and it was rhythmic, and you finally felt calm again after two days of a constant headache. Like when the drugs finally kick in and the pain subtly goes away and you don’t notice until much later. Until a very painful thought sprung on you, “Fuck, does One know? I think I might punch him if he gives me lecture.”
Four chuckled, passing you a wet plate, “Nah, I told Five, Two overheard and snitched to Three. Entirely self-contained.”
You absorbed the information, nodding slowly, not knowing if Four telling only Five was even actually better than Four telling everyone. You let the debate drop in your head, shrugging like Six would and continued on the wet dishes, hand towel starting to get damp. It was quiet once again, silent except for the sounds of water sloshing in the sink and plates being stacked.
Until the dishes ran out and he emptied the sink. You hummed, sad for once in your life that there weren’t more dishes, hanging up the tea towel. But as you went to turn away, Four hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. You looked back at him expectantly, to see his lip caught between his teeth again, “Look… I’m not great at saying sorry… I-I…” He sighed heavily, as if he was gearing up to say something big, something heavy.
You snorted, amused by the fact that apologising was such a big thing for him, cutting him off, “It’s alright, you’re forgiven.”
You patted his cheek sarcastically and walked out of the kitchen, not hearing his, “Wait, no, there’s more…”
Xx
Xx
Xx
in which you can’t stand ben. really, truly, can’t stand him. it’s just your luck that he gets you pregnant.
warnings: theres smut in here but otherwise just the usual stuff!
word count: 5.3k
a/n: oh hey
omg ok hi!!! i hope ur doing well!! ive had this thought for a while and im so glad ur requests are open. ok so this doesnt have to have a pairing but imagine reader is an actress and plays like the fifth queen member in borhap and she had passed away, so roger and/or bri are kind of cold to reader in the early stages of filming until they see her in action and are in awe of her? or they finally warm up to her towards the end or however u want!!
(gwilym lee x reader / queen x reader / bohemian rhapsody cast x reader / brian may x original character)
warnings: implication of suicide.
author’s note: this just sort of… happened. i haven’t had time to proofread, so sorry if there are mistakes, or if it’s just bad! my last year exams are over next friday and then i will have so much time to write - i can’t wait! so many amazing requests in my inbox waiting to be explored, feel free to send any more! lots of love - likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!
It hurt.
It hurt Roger and Brian to look at you. Standing before them, beaming expectantly like she had done all those years ago after seeing the advertisement for a pianist pinned on the Student Union’s board. If your hair were a little longer, eyes a little greener, clothes of another era… you could have been her.
You felt your heart drop at the look of disdain or disinterest on their faces, you couldn’t tell which. The drummer looked you up and down, averting his gaze to not meet yours before concluding monotonously “She’ll do” as he turned to fix himself and the guitarist a drink. Brian said nothing, simply nodding in agreement, before excusing himself from the room.
Glancing at Graham anxiously, the producer offered you a reassuring smile before casually suggesting the two of you left, inventing a non-existent agenda to try and soften the awkwardness of your clearly unwanted presence in the home of one of the greatest percussionists of all time. As you stepped outside, he squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “They just need a bit of time to get used to you, that’s all.” He guaranteed, watching the excitement wash away and be replaced by disappointment. “She wasn’t like Freddie. Her passing was…” Graham seemed to search for the words as he slid into the driver’s seat of his car, turning the engine on as you slipped your seatbelt on silently. “Unprepared for.”
A month later, it’s the band’s first day on the Live Aid set and you are Luna Curtis. At least, that’s what you feel like as you rehearse with your new-found best friends, savouring the feel of your wig tickling your shoulders in the wind despite the coldness, as you finish playing the final bars of We Are The Champions. Dexter claps his hands together delightedly, insisting someone make the five of you cups of coffee as a reward for such a performance without the cameras even rolling.
Rami flopped down on the stool beside you, resting his head on your shoulder and exhaling deeply. “Jesus Christ, I am so tired!” He confessed, eliciting a chuckle from your lips.
“Better down that coffee then, Mr Malek. We’ve still got a few more practices to go.” Elbowing your torso playfully, the actor began to respond but was abruptly distracted by the entrance of the remaining members of the real Queen.
Greeting their actors with open arms, laughter filled the air as you stood on the outskirts of the gathering. “Have you met yourname? She’s playing L-” Ben began, wrapping an arm around you fondly, but Brian spoke over him, offering advice to Gwilym about strumming. The blonde glanced between you and the musicians, frowning with confusion. Offering him a weak smile, you slipped from his grasp and left the stage.
“So long, goodbye!”
Rami mouthed, as Joe flung his arm around your neck, as John did to Luna all those years ago. You bit your bottom lip as you grinned, gazing right to left and then turning to kiss the fictitious bassist on the cheek.
“We love you!”
The whole crew had stopped to watch the past twenty minutes - your first entire run through, a camera test for the costume and set. They burst into applause as Dexter yelled cut, embracing you all instantly out of pride. “Brilliant, just… brilliant! That’s it for today, early start tomorrow so get some rest.” He beamed, before excusing himself to watch the footage back. Gwilym high fived you as he passed his guitar to a runner, and a sense of longing for your wig to be taken off overcame you, the slides pressed into your scalp to keep it in place starting to itch.
“I don’t have words, boys.” You heard Brian say softly, clearly in awe with Roger humming in agreement. “Drinks on us tonight, do you know anywhere nearby?” He continued, clapping Gwilym on the back.
“Yeah, there’s a quiet place down the road that we’ve become nightly residents of.” Ben informed them, earning chuckles from the others. Back facing them, you slid down the cover of the piano, stroking the smooth surface as you began to walk off set and to hair and makeup. Somebody cleared their throat behind you, and you turned to see Roger with his hands in his pockets, stood almost guiltily.
“That invitation was extended to you as well.” He said earnestly and you smiled sadly.
“You don’t need to be polite, Mr Taylor. I know where I’m not welcome.” You admitted, shaking your head gently.
“Of course you’re welcome, yourname. Brian and I would love you to be there. The choice is yours, obviously.” Roger waved awkwardly goodbye before joining the others, and you left unnoticed.
GL: You have to come. No questions.
YN: Gwil, they don’t like me. Don’t want to be sat there all night.
GL: They don’t hate you. Just haven’t got to know you. Nobody could ever hate you.
Blushing, you sighed and rolled off the hotel bed, shuffling towards your wardrobe - deeming the pyjamas you were currently wearing not appropriate to hang out with rockstars.
GL: Picking you up in 20 minutes, even if you’re wearing your Disney shorts. 4/5 of fake Queen think you should be there and 2/2 of the real thing so you’re COMING.
Y/N: My shorts are cute, you’re just a grumpy old man. And fine. You’re buying me a side of chips though. :P
Grabbing a jumper and jeans, you got ready in record time - resorting to tying your hair up casually, not bothering with makeup. As promised, a knock at your door filled the silence and grabbing your bag you opened it to see your co-star.
“Hello, you.” Gwilym winked, glancing down to your trousers. “No Mickey shorts, I see.” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes as you locked the door behind you.
“I’m starting to think you wanted me to wear them, Lee.” You teased, bumping his shoulder as you walked down the corridor. Gwilym chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as you entered the lift.
“Maybe I did.” He retorted, and you caught his eyes, before quickly glancing away. He watched your cheeks flush a little, and bit his bottom lip to hide his grin. Little did you know, he couldn’t stop thinking about how short they were. “You look different.” Gwil noted, shifting against the metal wall to get a better view of you. Scoffing, you looked at him pointedly.
“Smooth way to tell a girl she needs makeup.” Gwilym’s eyebrows raised momentarily before the ding of the elevator broke the tension, but he grabbed your arm before you left.
“Good different.”
The car drive was short but full of chatter between you both, radio playing and windows down. As he pulled up outside the pub, you noticed Ben’s bike and Joe’s car - plus two vehicles outside that were probably worth more than you would ever earn. Tensing, you clutched your bag as you stepped out - Gwilym holding the door open for you, noticing your fingertips digging into the leather.
“Hey, you’re ok. We can leave whenever you want.” He offered, and you nodded appreciatively as you entered. Soft music spilt out of the speakers and you instantly noticed a familiar abundance of grey curls in the corner.
“Gwil!” Brian cheered, waving him over. Expecting him to leave you by the door, the actor simply gave him a thumbs up before turning his attention back to you. “Can I get you a drink?” Gwilym asked with his hand still on your back leading you towards the bar. Before you could reply, however, Roger’s voice joined your conversation.
“We told you earlier, on us tonight!” He grinned merrily, surprisingly at you both. Eye contact was alien to you, on set you were used to being treated like a ghost by the musicians - not really there. Gwilym raised his hands in mock surrender and you followed the drummer to the bar, who ordered you a gin and tonic, and Gwilym a beer.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Roger nodded towards you, causing a shy smile to spread across your face. “I feel like I owe you an…” Raising his eyebrows in admittance, he exhaled and Gwilym sensed the shift in atmosphere - silently excusing himself. “Apology, and a proper introduction. We haven’t been exactly welcoming to you, and my missus made me painfully aware of it earlier today. She said you were quite upset.”
A blonde woman had popped her head into the hair and make up trailer that afternoon, as you were crying to Rebecca, one of the makeup artists. You knew you had recognised her from somewhere, and now the puzzle pieces were slotting together - Sarina Potgieter.
Grimacing in slight embarrassment, you shrugged. “I get it, it must be tough.” You said kindly, but Roger shook his head firmly.
“Not an excuse, love. We don’t treat Rami this way, or Joe, and Fred’s gone - John in a way too. I am sorry, I hope we could… begin again?” He suggested, and you laughed lightly as he offered you his hand. Shaking it, you beamed back at him.
“Apology accepted. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roger.”
His bright blue eyes glanced behind you as he sipped his drink, and he nodded to his friend on the other side of the room. “Brian feels bad too, but it might take him a while to, y’know…”
Acknowledge my existence? You thought to yourself but nodded understandingly. “They were close weren’t they?” You asked, suddenly seeing an opportunity to understand the role you were playing better.
“Next to Deaky, Luna was closest to Brian. At one point we all thought it might have been something more, but he was married to Chrissie and Luna would never have got involved. She cared about both of them too much.”
A hand clapped on your back suddenly, causing you to jump. “Look who’s talkin’! Everyone getting along, at last, ‘m so happy!” Joe cheered, gesturing to you both with the hand which wasn’t holding his empty wine glass. Roger arched one of his eyebrows and you snorted with laughter, wrapping one arm around the actor tightly.
“Oh, sweetheart, you would not be saying this sober.” You teased, kissing Joe’s temple and he hugged you back.
“Oh, sweetheart, you would not be seeing these moves if I were sober!” He began, dragging you onto the small dancefloor where the crew were already swaying to the music.
Glancing back to Roger, whose mouth was ajar with a mix of awe and… something else, he shook himself before declaring: “Christ, you’re so much like them.”
An hour or so later, you were sat in the courtyard outside, protected from the drizzling rain by the umbrella covering the outdoor table. Ben exhaled, watching the smoke from his cigarette swirl momentarily before dissipating into the cool air. “Glad you Roger are talking.” He smiled, and you bumped his shoulder.
“Me too, the silent treatment isn’t fun.” Ben chuckled, looking up at the night sky. Following his gaze, you pointed to where he was staring. “That’s Leo.” You informed him, and he pouted as if impressed.
“Didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff.” Ben admitted, but you shook your head.
“Learnt it from Gwil. He invited me over to stargaze a few weeks back. Claimed it was research for the role but I think he just likes it.” You joked, but the blonde next to you had to repress a knowing smile. Gwilym was besotted by you, and the four other band members knew - relentlessly trying to encourage him to ask you out properly. Instead, he made up situations that for some reason required your presence - like inviting you over to stargaze for ‘characterisation’.
A chuckle from behind broke the comfortable silence and you turned to see Brian approaching you both, drink in hand and also looking at the night. “Don’t know how constellations helped his strumming, but I’m flattered by his dedication.” Ben laughed, moving so he could sit between you both, before realising his presence was now unwanted.
“I’m going to go…” The blonde began, stubbing out his cigarette as he stood. “and be anywhere but here.” He said awkwardly, earning an eye roll from you despite the anxiety you felt inside. Brian hummed in response.
Rolling down your jumper sleeves, you folded your arms - an attempt to hide your skin from the chilling breeze that tousled some of the grey curls of the man beside you.
“Orion’s out tonight, too.” Brian began softly, and you studied his facial expression - a mix of guilt and hesitation. “We used to watch ‘em together. Luna and I.”
He turned, nodding gently as if to reassure himself, or you, that he was attempting to apologise. “I know I haven’t been the kindest, and I’m sorry for making you feel as awful as you have.” Before you could protest, he raised a finger to stop you. “Don’t try and tell me you’re fine, Gwilym has told me. He cares an awful lot about you.”
The darkness shielded your rose tinted cheeks from those inside, but not from the astrophysicist. “I’m not trying to excuse my behaviour, I just want you to understand. It still…”
“Hurts.” You finished for him.
A moment passed, then another, and then another.
“It was so soon after Fred.” He began, voice breaking slightly. “We never talked about it, Rog and I, not really. It’s the reason why John left. He lost his best friend and practically his little sister in the space of two years. The worst part is we found out on the news, they had trouble getting through. I can still hear bloody Chris Lowe’s voice in my head: “Queen pianist Luna Curtis found dead in Paris hotel room.” I threw up, Anita was so scared she called an ambulance. We knew she was hurt, after Fred and splitting up with Geldof but… Christ, she was only 42.”
Reaching out, you took his hand into yours - which took him by surprise - and squeezed it comfortingly. “You never know, Brian. You can’t predict it, you can’t stop it. All you can do is love. Which you did; before she passed, when she passed, and after she passed.”
Wiping a tear that had escaped onto his cheek, he turned and kissed your forehead. “I should be celebrating you, not hurting you. Rog and I have been forced to face and accept it, instead of running like we have done for the past two decades. You’re keeping her memory alive.”
You leant into his shoulder and the two of you embraced, speaking volumes without a word. Behind you, Gwilym was leant against the doorframe, accompanied by Anita on his arm. “She’s a lovely girl.” The actress declared, and Gwilym hummed in agreement. “Don’t let her get away, sweet.”
He didn’t.
A year later, you’re sat between your boyfriend and one of your best friends - and fellow nominee - Rami at the Oscars, and your ‘sister from another mister’ (as you called it) Lucy beside him. Gwilym’s hand is on your knee reassuringly as they call your category, his black suit striking against your red dress, but you felt no nerves - knowing you won’t win as a Golden Globe, SAG and BAFTA had already slipped through your fingertips.
“And the nominees for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress are…
Regina King, If Beale Street Could Talk.
Amy Adams, Vice.
Marina de Tavira, Roma.
Emma Stone, The Favourite.
Rachel Weiz, The Favourite.
yourname, Bohemian Rhapsody.”
The camera cut to the four of you on the front row, and you nodded respectfully as Gwilym grinned at you adoringly. As they opened the envelope, you tapped your foot, preparing to smile despite the inevitable disappointment.
“And the Oscar goes to… yourname for Bohemian Rhapsody!”
Time seemed to slow, as your heart felt like it leapt out of your chest as Gwilym did out of his chair. The sound of applause and cheers drowned out the voice over - “This is yourname’s first Oscar nomination…” Rising to your feet, you buried yourself into Gwil’s arms, kissing him furiously despite the rolling cameras and the fact your relationship had not been a secret - but kept quiet. Tears streamed down his face and you laughed, out of shock and amusement, before turning to embrace Rami and Lucy together.
“Fucking hell.” You exhaled as you finally stood behind the podium on stage clutching the award, applause still ongoing but now accompanied by laughter as the microphone projected your curse, causing you to cover your mouth whilst giggling.
“Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly, before composing yourself. “I… I really wasn’t expecting this. My fellow nominees are actresses I aspire to be like, and being nominated alongside you all was an honour. There are so many people I need to thank, everyone who worked on the film from the runners, to the casting directors, to the caterers… Rami and I wouldn’t be here without all of you. My agent, my family… But most importantly my friends. Joe, Ben, Rami, Luce… Getting to work with all of you has been the biggest privilege of my career. I’ve learnt so much as a person and actor from you all, this is yours as much as it is mine - even though I hope our band has two of these little guys by the end of the night. Gwil… I love you. You are my greatest reward from this project, and I would not be here without you.
I promise you, I’m almost done, but I am yet to thank the five most important people. Mr Freddie Mercury. Miss Luna Curtis. Mr John Deacon. Dr Brian May. Mr Roger Taylor. Forever is our today.”
sWords : 4, 000 K +
Warnings : mostly angst, fluff
Summary : Things aren’t always as they seems.
Note : More angst for you guys, I know you all ask for it so here you go :) I’m really gmad for all the reviews and positive feedbacks I had for the first chapter so thank u so much ! I didn’t start writing chapter 3 yet but I have few ideas so if you guys have suggestions or theories I would love to heart hat !!! (i mostly replied to the messages in my inbox bc it’s easier to see them than the comments !!) Much love xx
Request: IN LOVE W UR BLOG 😻 I was wondering if you could do a super fluffy fic with Ben x reader, they work together on a movie (both mains) and she gets really nervous before their kissing scene together? And he notices and pulls her aside and she tells him she’s never kissed anyone before and she didn’t want to disappoint him and he just teachers her how to kiss in his trailer or smth and it’s just super cute and fluffy and wow 😭 I love soft Ben and I love you ❤️❤️
Warnings: Steamy kissing, bad words, not proofread.
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“I’ve wanted you since we were sixteen.” Ben stalked towards you, his words rolling off his tongue elegantly.
You stared out the window, refusing to look at him as he came up behind you, slowly. His hands found your upper arms. Your voice was stern. “You can’t always get what you want.” Ben chuckled darkly. “Sure you can, princess.” He trailed a lone fingertip down the slope of your neck and across your bare collarbones, stopping at the strap of your bra. You held your breath as he hooked his finger beneath it, pulling it off your shoulder to expose more of your chest. Smirking he pressed a chaste kiss to the spot where the strap had been. “You’ve just got to want it bad enough.” You turned to face him, catching his wrist to move it away from you. “You really think I’m just going to crumble at your feet the moment you decide you can use me?” Ben grinned wickedly, biting his lower lip as he backed you against the wall, his fingers hooking in the belt loops of your jeans. “Sweetheart…” He was so close now. You could feel the heat of his breath. Your mouth went dry as you stared up at him with big eyes. “I think we both know you crumbled at my feet a long time ago.” “Cut!” Your director shouted. A bell rang, and you heard the snap of a marker. Ben took a step back from you sheepishly, his cheeks going pink.
Chapter 5: Sex Money
Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.
A/N: ALL RIGHTY CUTIES!! This is where the story starts to pick up! I might take a little break in writing because the next chapter has literally taken me a week and a half to write up because I just can not get it right and I want to work ahead for when the semester begins to pick up. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this newest chapter! As always I really appreciate and read every comment I get on this, and love all the likes, reblogs, and asks i have been getting!
Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader
Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, cam sex, mutual masturbation, masturbation, sexual tension, some friendly banter between roger and reader, slight arguing, maybe some slut shaming, not proof read, shit is getting juicy.
Word Count: 2.4k
Today was the day.
After heavy deliberation and a lot of working around schedules you and Mojo_Man had found a day and time that worked for the two of you. In the time it took to plan this whole ordeal you found that Mojo_Man, whoever he was, was pleasant to talk to and he even paid for a lifetime subscription to your Snapchat. The attention he had been giving you was nice to say the least.
Hey guys real quick - I’m posting this now because I live in Australia and there’s a fire less than 20km away from my house so we’re on alert for evacuation. Basically I’m not sure when I’ll be able to post if we end up getting evacuated - I’m not looking for sympathy, it is what it is, I just want you beautiful people to know what’s going on.
Anyway…..
Tags; @adrenaline-roulette and @amy-brooklyn99 - if you would like to be tagged just let me know
Pairing; Four x Eight (female reader) Fandom; 6 Underground Warnings; Swearing, angst, mention of human/sex trafficking, drinking and smoking Word count; 1.7k (total so far 6.3k)
Summary; The team has moved onto their next target after dealing with Rovach Alimov, a war criminal named John Dough. Eight has just joined the team and is dying to show how much she deserves to be there
author’s note: this is a little blurb i’ve had in mind for a while, might come back and write a little more to it
pairing: ben hardy x reader
warnings: fight, ben getting in trouble, angst
word count: idk but she smol
sober visit // ben hardy part II of drunk call
Summary: Y/N’s adventures at a night club featuring a certain drunk blond. A/N: Life has been a little rough, so I’m sorry for not getting this out sooner. Hope you still enjoy it. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, swearing. (that’s all I think) Word count: 2,356
in which you can’t stand ben. really, truly, can’t stand him. it’s just your luck that he gets you pregnant.
word count: 4.1k
a/n: oh my god they were roommates
