#borhap political au

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - A BoRhap Politics AU

A/N: Hey gang, this is a fun lil project I’ve been working on with the ever wonderful @rachelweiszs-areawoman. It’s been super fun writing with her and this is the first chapter, we have no idea how long this is gonna be but probably pretty long so stay tuned, hope you like!

Word Count: 1908

Chapter 1

Miss Kathleen ‘Kick’ Shawcross, MP for Bethnal Green and Bow walked into the Foreign Office. She’d been appointed a Junior Minister at the Department for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs in the latest Cabinet reshuffle. She was a newly-elected Member of Parliament, and considered herself very lucky to have been appointed a Minister so early in her political career. The Labour party had won in a huge landslide once again in the general election and Kick was one of a new generation of Labour MPs doing their bit to govern the country.

She flashed her security pass and made her way up to her office. As expected, it was the size of a broom cupboard; charming and efficient, but ultimately a very small room. Unexpectedly, it had a connecting door with the Secretary of State’s office.

The Foreign Secretary.

The Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, generally considered one of the most handsome men in Westminster, was to be her boss. Before Kick could muse about him any more, the man in question walked through the door.

“Miss Shawcross, welcome to the Foreign Office.” he said, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“Thank you Minister, and please call me Kick.” she replied, shaking his hand.

“Kick?” he asked.

“It’s a long story from my days at Bristol University involving the Chief Whip. I'm sure you'll get to hear the tale at some point, Mr Lee.”

“Gwilym, please.”

As if on cue, the Labour Party’s Chief Whip, Ben Hardy, MP for Stretford and Urmston walked into the room.

“I would introduce you but apparently you already know each other,” Gwilym joked as Ben and Kick embraced.

“Ben, why are you here?” Kick asked as her friend shook Gwilym’s hand.

“Had to see you on your first day, didn’t I? I see you’ve met our esteemed Foreign Secretary and Member of Parliament for Holborn and St Pancras, the Right Honourable Gwilym Lee MP.” Ben replied, leaning on the edge of Kick’s desk.

“I have, and I like him more than I like you already.” she said, smirking in Gwilym’s direction. He smirked back as he left her office to continue working. Kick’s eyes stayed on the door for a few seconds after it closed.

“So that’s what your type is then?” Ben joked. Kick just glared at him.

“Ben, don’t you have work to do? Someone to go and threaten the job security of or something?” She asked, logging on to the computer in front of her as some kind of hint.

“That can all wait, I just wanted to come and see an old friend and make sure she's all settled on her first day,” he replied in a somewhat cocky manner. Kick shot him a look, reiterating her earlier hint. Thankfully this time, he took it and left her office with a wave. As the door clicked closed, Kick fell back in her chair. She sighed heavily, before there was yet another knock on the door.

“Come in!” Kick called, and the door opened, revealing a young blonde woman.

“You must be Kick,” She said as she walked over, depositing some files on the desk.

“Kick Shawcross. You are?”

“Lucy Boynton, the Minister’s secretary,” the young woman said, smiling brightly. She went to leave, but turned around as she reached the door.

“Gwilym’s single, just so you know.” she said, closing the door behind her. Kick thought, and decided that she didn’t think Lucy was the type to say something like that maliciously. If Gwilym really was single, well, that could cause all sorts of problems.

----

Kick’s first week as a Foreign Office Minister was exhausting. Meeting after meeting and Parliamentary debates. She managed to spend an afternoon in her constituency, and squeezed in a lunch with Lucy for ‘girly bonding time’ as she put it.

Kick was starting to really like Lucy, she anticipated them becoming close over their time together in the Foreign Office. In a male-dominated environment, they recognized in each other a need for female support and friendship. They’d found space in Kick’s increasingly busy diary for a wine-fuelled movie night one weekend to blow off steam after an especially busy week. For the most part, neither of them were paying attention to the film on Kick's TV. Instead they sat there talking, everything from music to family, Lucy's activism to Kick's hopes for the future… and about a certain Mr. Lee.

Not only had there been a general election and a Cabinet reshuffle, a new American Ambassador was joining the Embassy in London, creating a lot of work for the Foreign Office, and Kick. She sat in her office responding to various emails in relation to the new Ambassador's arrival, there was a somewhat intense conversation happening in the adjoining room, it intrigued her.

Collecting a stack of files as an excuse to walk into Gwil's office, Kick opened the door that connected the two offices.

“She's still bloody out there, chained to the Churchill statue of all places.” Gwilym complained, pacing the room and running a hand through his hair.

“I know that, it's about the fourth time you've said it in the past half hour.” Lucy replied, not looking up from the file she was reading.

“I just don't want her there when he arrives, especially as the refugee crisis seems to be her issue of the moment!” Gwilym sits down at his desk, acknowledging Kick with a polite nod, she places her stack of files on his desk.

“I don't mean to butt in, Gwilym, but who exactly are you two talking about?” Kick asks cautiously. The Foreign Secretary sighed and lent back in his chair slightly

“A certain Miss. Elsbeth Stewart,” Gwil seathed, causing Lucy to look to Kick and roll her eyes slightly, “since the reshuffle, she has very kindly selected me as her new target. Every little thing I do that woman seems to have a problem with”

Gwilym stood up again, taking another lap of the room.

“Why did it have to be today of all fucking days?” Gwil groaned

“She's a smart girl, she knows you have to make a first impression, I'm pretty sure she didn't pick today by accident.” Lucy said back to him,

“Lucy, can't you say something to her? You're friends with her for some insane reason”

“Gwil, if she knows you have that big of a problem with it's going to turn her 24 hour hunger strike into a 48 hour one,” Lucy placed the file she was reading on the desk, “I know Elsie, if she knew it would piss you off, she would starve herself half to death”

“That doesn’t solve the problem of her being here when the Ambassador turns up though.” Kick commented as she swiped the file from in front of Lucy and began reading it herself.

“Yes, thank you Kick, that was very helpful.” Gwilym groaned, resting his head in his hands. Before anybody could say anything remotely useful, a Parliamentary Aid poked his head through the door.

“Minister? The Ambassador is about 5 minutes away,” Gwil sighed and winced slightly.

“Great.” he muttered sarcastically, “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll be just a moment,” he said, nodding to the aid to dismiss him from the room.

“It’ll be fine Gwilym,” Kick said quietly as she walked past his desk on the way back to her office. He grimaced at her and nodded in response.

Gwilym walked down the stairs from his office to the entrance hall of the Foreign Office, and took a deep breath as the new Ambassador walked in.

The new Ambassador, Staff Sergeant Joseph Francis Mazzello III was something of a surprise. A young, womanising, ex-marine billionaire socialite with little prior political experience. The Americans obviously thought he was the right man for the job, so there he was.

“Ambassador.” Gwilym said as he shook the man’s hand.

“Please, call me Joe,”

“Then call me Gwilym,”

“Great to finally meet you, Gwilym.” He was peppy and obviously very green, he had a strange confidence and charm about him which was very refreshing to Gwilym as he had grown used being surrounded by the politicians and and diplomats of generations past. Gwilym thought he could quite easily grow to like the young man in front of him, a refreshing change from the last Ambassador.

They made their way up to Gwilym’s office, eager to discuss trade and relations between their two countries, when they almost collided with Kick.

“Kick, this is the new US Ambassador, Joe Mazzello.” Gwilym said as Kick and Joe shook hands.

“Joe, this is Kathleen Shawcross MP, one of our junior ministers,” He explained, smiling brightly at Kick.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Shawcross.” he said, shaking her hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Ambassador Mazzello.” she said back

“Please, just Joe. No need for formalities, I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Kick blushed slightly, the American’s charm was lethal. Gwilym raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly over the Ambassador’s mildly flirtatious comment, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside based on the stories of Joe’s womanising nature, they were aside but not gone.

The second they entered Gwilym’s office, Joe made a beeline for the window.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of looking at London,” he mused as he surveyed the scene, attention grabbed by the young woman chained to the Winston Churchill statue in Parliament Square, a poster board with “Lee wants Syrian children to starve to death, I’m starving for a day” propped up next to her and a confident, angry and intriguing air about her.

“Who’s she?” He asked, pointing her out as Gwilym joined him.

“That’s just Miss Stewart, she’s here a lot. Isn’t necessarily my biggest fan as you can probably see.” Gwilym replied, sitting down to get on with the business of the day.

“She really doesn’t like your policies, does she?” Joe commented as he sat down. Lucy sat down at her desk on the other side of the room, and Kick made her way into her office, where she would be listening in.

---- 

A week later, Kick found herself sat in an expensive Westminster restaurant with Gwilym, Ben, and Lucy. Ben had called it ‘team bonding’ but in reality, Kick knew it was just a way for him to get all the gossip from the Foreign Office to pass on to the powers that be. Ben had a remarkable knack for getting anything he wanted out of a Labour MP to pass on to the Prime Minister, Dr Brian May MP.

Ben poured Kick another glass of wine as he leaned in.

“Come on then Kick, pal to pal, what’s the Foreign Secretary actually like?” He whispered as he placed the wine bottle back down. He’d known Kick a long time, and knew she’d have to be spectacularly drunk to tell him anything.

“You’re not getting anything out of me, Benny boy. You’re going to have to work a bit harder than that, mate” Kick replied, trying to listen to whatever terrible joke Lucy was inevitably telling.

“Well, what do you think of him then? Do you fancy him?” Ben asked, still probing his best friend to get something out of her. Kick thought for a few moments, pondering the questions Ben had posed.

“He’s lovely, fantastic at his job. Do I fancy him? Well, there’s still time I suppose”

----

//Chapt 2//Chapt 3

[asphalt-cocktail]

For the Sake of Content- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Broke, Single, and Homeless

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: Hi All!! It’s ya girl AC back at it again with a Roger Taylor fic! This is heavily inspired by a Bucky Barnes x Reader fic I read some time ago on AO3 called Heart on the Line (Operator, Operator) by Janvandyne and it’s super good so, read it! Also my plan for this fic is for it to be kind of funny and light hearted but still a slow burn with some looming sexual tension with a lot of short chapters as opposed to my typical 5-6k chapters. This is also going to be a modern!AU and a roommates!AU but feel free to picture 70s!Queen/BoRhap for the characters. I am also not going to link my masterlist or the other chapters in my posts because it doesn’t show up in the tags when I do link it, but you can find everything relating to the fic under the tag FSC Fic. My tag list is open, so if you are interested feel free to send me an ask! I will only be accepting those who are 18+ because there are going to be sexual themes later on in the fic. Enjoy my lovelies and as always this can be read as Ben!Roger or just regular Rog. 

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, cheating, sexual situations, break up, reader is pretty unlucky, alcohol, mentions of sex work

Word Count: 2.3k

Let’s get one thing straight, you were most certainly not boring.

You might have called yourself responsible for politely declining your friend’s invite for a night out for a night in with your long-time boyfriend, Harrison, after a long day of work; but you wouldn’t have described your actions as boring.

Your drive home from work on the other hand, you would. Your daily thirty-minute commute was painfully boring; every day you drove to work, hooked the Bluetooth radio up to your phone and made it through the same 7 and a half songs on your ‘Car Jams’ playlist. Then you would park it in your apartment parking lot, beep the alarm button twice to make sure it was on and locked, and unlock your sticky apartment door by ramming your shoulder into it, make dinner, and wait for Harrison to get home.

Today was different though, a break in the same old mundane routine, your kitchen light was on and the door was already locked. You cautiously opened the front door and stuck your keys between your knuckles, what if someone had broken in?

Nothing looked out of place, but you could obviously hear someone thumping around one of the back rooms and voices.

Thump, thump accompanied by some murmurs you couldn’t make out.

You slowly walked deeper into your apartment, too focused to close the door behind you. The deeper you got, the louder the shuffling and pounding god. Your heart pounded against your chest and you clutched your keys with white knuckles, reaching for your bedroom door, the source of the noise.

Upon opening it, you saw Harrison, bare and rhythmically thrusting into a woman who was most certainly not you.

You dropped your keys which jingled loudly when they hit the ground and alert them of your presence.

Harrison glanced up at you and let out a sigh, rolling his eyes as if he were annoyed you were interrupting him. The girl covered her chest, “Sorry!” She said her face flushed and watching yours fall in defeat.

Your boyfriend pulled out of her and slumped over, “Harrison-” Your voice was unsteady from shock, “What-what’s this?” You asked.

Harrison let out a long, deep sigh, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, “It’s exactly what it looks like.” He said, “I’m sorry, but our relationship is just so boring it was driving me mental.” He looked down sheepishly.

There was that word again

Boring

“Boring?” You asked slightly shocked, “What- I… I don’t understand,” Your stomach clenched seeing the woman still in your bed that the two of you routinely shared.

“It’s boring, [Y/N], we have only had sex in the missionary position for the last three months, for god sake we eat frozen pizza and watch the Bachelor every Thursday and have for as long as we’ve lived together.” It was as though he ripped away a band aid that covered a festering wound, one that had gotten far too big to cover.

It was true; the sex was disappointing, stale even. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t fake an orgasm just to get it over with.

“You can go,” Harrison said to the girl who you had forgotten was even there.

She leaned over, moving to pick up her clothes before you interrupted, “It’s fine,” You said swallowing your pride, “I’ll just leave. It’s probably best if we didn’t see each other after this.” Your voice cracked with emotion.

Harrison didn’t protest or chase after you when you grabbed your keys from the floor and left, shutting and locking the apartment door behind you.

You opened your phone, your thumb hovering over your friend’s phone number before you exhaled loudly and clicked the little phone icon, dialing his number, “Fred?” You spoke as soon as he picked up.

It had barely been an hour since the two of you had gotten out of work, but you could tell he was already at the club by the rhythmic beats you could hear in the background “Yes, love?” He answered.

“Are you guys still out?” You knew he was, but still found yourself asking.

“Course we are darling, it’s barely 7pm. The night is still young!” He exclaimed, mischievous as ever.

“Can I still take you up on that invite?” You sighed.

You could tell Freddie was grinning from ear to ear, “For you, the invite is always open, I’ll send over my location!” He said before giving you a short ‘ta’ and hanging up.

Within seconds Freddie’s message lit up the screen on your phone with the location of a bar he often frequented before he would go out to the night club across the street. You looked down, still in your work clothes and frowned “Fuck it.” You shrugged, turning your car on and beginning your drive.

You had a lot of time for your thoughts to marinade in your head on your commute to the bar. You should have been more upset over Harrison cheating on you, you should have been angry with him, at the girl, and you should have had asked more questions. Yet, you found that you felt as though a strange weight had been lifted off your shoulders, like you were free from prison.

A smile crept across your face as it became illuminated by the cheap neon lights on the front of the bar, you found a parking spot which was surprisingly easy considering it was a work day, and walked into the bar.

You immediately spotted Freddie and several of Freddie’s friends all squeezed into the large booth in the back, Freddie waved enthusiastically at you and climbed over several peoples laps before he padded over to you, pulling you into a warm, friendly, embrace, “What made you change your mind?” He asked pulling away and gripping your hand so he could drag you to the bar.

“Oh,” You shifted uncomfortably, “I walked in on Harrison cheating on me.” You answered bluntly.

Freddie stared at you, his mouth ajar and stopping mid order, “He what?” He shrilly exclaimed, “Do you need me to go over there and fight for you dear? You say the word and I’ll key that scumbag’s car!” He was riled up; his blood was boiling.

You let out a small huff, “It’s fine, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” You answered honestly, “I’m not even that upset.” At least not yet.

Freddie handed you the drink he ordered, and you cautiously took a sip knowing you wouldn’t drink much tonight. Your friend turned around, clapping his hands and alerting the attention to the bar patrons “Everyone! Everyone!” He beckoned, “This is my friend [Y/N],” Oh no, “She’s just gotten dumped and needs to get fucked up,” Freddie gripped your shoulders tightly and shook you from side to side with excitement; his charisma was off the charts and the bar patrons erupted in shouts as he played the crowd and some how convinced them that you should most certainly NOT have to buy a single drink tonight.

If you did, you didn’t remember. In fact, you didn’t remember anything from the moment you stepped out of the bar to when you woke up on Fred’s couch. Your mouth was dry, and your head throbbed as you sat up. You looked at the clock 9:45, “Shit!” You shouted flailing out of your tangled mess of blankets and struggling to put your shoes back on, “Fucking hell.”

You weren’t surprised to see Freddie shuffling out of his bedroom, clad in his boxer briefs and a tank top, rubbing his eyes, “Who’s twisted your knickers this morning?” He asked.

“I’m 45 minutes late to work!” You exclaimed, patting your pockets for you phone and finally finding it on the table. You flicked your phone open to see two missed calls from your boss and around 7 text messages.

You hastily ran through Freddie’s hallway, catching your reflection in the mirror and stopping. You looked like literal shit. Your hair was a wild mess, eyes streaked with last nights makeup, and to top it all of you were still in last nights clothes. You took a minute to recompose yourself and fix your appearance before you glanced down.

Don’t bother coming in

Your heart dropped. This was your fourth time being late to work in the last month, you had been warned to not be late again, yet here you were; late once again and now unemployed.

Your life had been nothing short of a disaster this last week between losing your job and the whole Harrison situation. Freddie had so graciously allowed you to take up residence on his living room couch which was nice considering he was hardly ever home, but you could tell he was getting tired of having you moping about all the time.

It was nearly 12 in the afternoon when Freddie came down and ripped the blanket off you, the shock of the cold waking you up, “Come on, up!” He shouted playfully slapping at your thighs that showed due to your sleep shorts, “You can’t mope about on my couch forever, it’s really dragging down the atmosphere.” He chastised, tossing the blanket to the floor.

Your face felt hot with embarrassment, “I know, I promise I’m looking at new apartments Fred.” You said sheepishly. You were looking, but not having a job was making it a bit hard for you to convince landlords to call you back.

Freddie cleared his throat “Well that’s a moot point because I got you an apartment showing.”

You sat up, staring at him in shock “What? When?” You asked, wide eyed.

“Now! That’s why I said get up! I threw some clothes in the bathroom for you, I don’t care what you say you’re wearing them. I’m sick of seeing you in the same ugly jumper.” Freddie chastised.

You looked down and frowned, he had a point, you were wearing your old worn out college sweatshirt for the third day in a row, “Fine.” You muttered, getting up and trudging to the bathroom. You let out a deep sigh seeing the clothes Freddie had obviously taken from the second-hand store he ran that made you look like you had walked right out of some low budget 70s movie.

Much to your dismay, Freddie had also managed to wrangle you and dab a bit of rouge and mascara on your cheeks and eyes to help ‘complete the look’ before the two of you set out to see the apartment.

The house was surprisingly tidy, everything had its designated place and what little clutter there was took the form of retro posters and antiques, vinyl, and various other knickknacks. Freddie led you into the bedroom you would be staying in, thankfully it already had a full-size bed in the middle of the room and a dresser in the corner. You sighed in relief, since breaking up with Harrison, you found that everything in your shared apartment belonged to him as far as furniture went.

The door to the apartment opened and shut, alerting your and Freddie’s attention. The two of you walked out into the hall and your eyes settled upon your roommate. He wore a silk flower pattered button down with the top four buttons undone, exposing his pale chest and light flecks of blonde chest hair, accompanied by a pair of too tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination.

“Are you serious, Fred? Roger?” You crudely whispered and lightly pushed him.

Freddie put his hands up defensively, “He needed a roommate, and you needed a room, be grateful.”

You rolled your eyes and watched as Roger hung up his leather jacket on one of the hooks. He turned and faced you, scrunching his nose in disapproval “This is who you made me offer my room to?” He chastised Fred.

Freddie gaped at the two of you, “Be grateful.” He said shaking his finger like a disapproving mother, “You needed a roommate, and [Y/N] needed a room.” He repeated “If you don’t stop whining, you’ll both end up homeless, and I don’t hand out change.” Freddie reminded them of the reality of their situation, it was true you couldn’t sleep on Freddie’s couch forever, and Roger needed a roommate ASAP, or he was getting evicted.

You tried your best to not pass judgement on a man you hardly knew, but it was so hard when the only stories you had heard about him involved Freddie walking in on him having sex in various locations or doing ridiculously stupid things. He was most certainly not the type of person you wanted to live with, “I’m not saying I’m not grateful Freddie,” You quickly corrected, “I just don’t want to have to introduce myself to someone new every week.” Social interactions were truly exhausting to you.

Roger scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “That’s rich,” He mumbled while rolling his big blue eyes, “’Specially coming from the most boring person in all of West London.”

There was that word again, boring the word that haunted your thoughts at all hours of the day. You clenched your fists in frustration, “I am not boring!” You spat back.

After receiving the rent information from Roger, you truly didn’t know how you were going to afford the cost of living, “I only have enough money saved up for three months’ worth of rent, Fred.” You complained slumping against his car seat.

“You should to start selling pictures online like those girls on twitter do.” He said in a pointed fashion.

You made a face, looking at him slightly shocked, “What?” You asked confused at what he was suggesting.

Fred nodded “Yeah, it’s all the rage right now among young women. They make a lot of money doing it!” Freddie was always up to date on the latest trends in fashion and celebrity gossip, so it honestly didn’t surprise you when he was also up to date on the latest get rich quick plans.

You looked down at yourself, “I don’t know, who would pay to see me touch myself?” You asked honestly.

Fred arched his brow at you, “Honey, men would pay hundreds to see that pussy of yours on display, trust me.” He couldn’t help but give you a devilish grin, all in good fun.

God, Fred was going to be the death of you.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

The Fairy King- Chapter 6

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Queen X reader/ To be determined, x reader

TW: blood, mentions of cuts, language

Genre: Fantasy. (Labyrinth AU)

Series: The Fairy King

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: And Brian is FINALLY in the story properly! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Roger and (Y/N) watched the cleaners pass by the hole they'd made in the wall, eyes wide with fear and hearts pounding erratically against their chests. The duo exchanged a glance and Roger opened his mouth to speak but instantly snapped it shut again as he lifted himself to his feet, stepping over the girl. (Y/N) huffed. A thank you would have been nice, even a nod but no. With an aching shoulder, she stood up, watching then pixie mutter to himself, before finally jumping when he looked back at her.

“Ah-ha! This is what we need! A ladder. Follow me,” Roger stated, lightly pushing her to the side to get to the ladder that was hidden behind her. He began to climb, unfazed by the years of grime lingering on the wood.

“I can’t trust you! You were taking me back to the beginning!” (Y/N) hissed, folding her arms over her chest, watching as he continued to climb, almost as if he hadn’t heard her. But he’d heard her all too well. And for some peculiar reason, he felt a jab in his heart that she thought so little of him.

“No, I wasn’t. I told him that to throw him off track,” Roger shot back, glancing at her over his shoulder, still only half-way up the ladder.

“How can I trust anything you say?” She asked, her eyebrows raised sharply, trying to prompt an answer from the blonde. Roger let out an exaggerated sigh, before swinging his body backwards, his feet and one hand still balancing on the ladder as the other hand lay limply by his side.

“Let me put it this way: what choice do you have?” Roger nearly snapped, sick of her constant pushing, though, strangely, he found it the slightest bit endearing. (Y/N) contemplated his response for a second before her shoulders deflated in defeat.

“You’re right,” She exhaled, slowly beginning up to the ladder, grimacing at the dirt that had made it's home there. Roger rolled his eyes secretly before turning back to the ladder.

“See, you have to understand my position. I’m a coward and Freddie, or Mercury as most call him, scares me,” Roger reasoned, and (Y/N) looked up at him oddly.

“What kind of position is that?” (Y/N) questioned.

“No position at all. That’s my point. You wouldn’t be so brave if you’d ever seen the ogre territory. It’s… it’s… ugh,” He shivered.

“Is that all it is? Someone else’s territory?” She pushed, sounding unimpressed.

“If you step foot in ogre territory, and they catch you, you become a prisoner for the rest of your life. Or they’ll cook you up for dinner and eat you while you’re still alive and breathing,” Roger growled, starting to grow annoyed with her disregard of everything in this world “Ah, here we are then,” Roger pushed the hatch above his head until it fell onto the floor with a clank and climbing through the gap into a deeper part of the labyrinth. (Y/N) followed after him, jumping out. Her eyebrows furrowed at Roger.

“What?” Was he serious? She’d just saved him and this is as far as he could take her? She cursed herself for trusting a pixie. She should know from her books that pixies were never to be trusted. But, she’d always thought fairies were good creatures and… no. Roger fit the description of a pixie to a T. He was a deceiving, greedy liar.

“That’s it. I quit,” Roger shrugged once again and spun on his heel, walking away from her. (Y/N) lunged forwards and gripped his wrist in her hand.

“Wait a minute, Roger!”

“I said I’d take you as far as I could and I did,” Roger yanked his wrist from her hand with a small sneer. A part fo him felt guilty. But he couldn’t take her too far. Freddie would have his head.

“You cheat! You nasty little cheat!” She snarled, glaring at him. In response, Roger placed his hands on his hips.

“Now don’t try to embarrass me. I have no pride,” Roger brushed her words off quickly before he could allow them to pierce into his heart.

“Oh yeah?” (Y/N) suddenly reached forward and grabbed the bag of jewels she’d noticed earlier, climbing onto the pot they’d just climbed out of and holding the bag above Roger’s head.

“Hey, give them back! Give them back to me!” He exclaimed, jumping up to try and reach them, knowing he didn’t have it in him to push her down. She giggled at his animated movements and Roger practically felt his heart soar but he kept his lips pursed and he perched on his tiptoes. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t reach them. (Y/N) smiled slyly and pointed towards the tower.

“So, there’s the tower. Which way should we try first?”  Just as those words left her lips, a small groan escaped a hunched over old man who carefully stumbled along, heading towards a seat made of stone. That hadn’t been there before, she was sure of it. But the one thing she’d learnt here is that nothing made sense. And apparently, that was the only thing that made sense here. He was short in height and had gnarled fingers. His moustache was bushy, bordering on untamed, and reached down to his chest, mingling with his beard on its travels. A hat was balanced precariously on his head and took the shape of some sort of bird.

He slowly took a seat. Roger and (Y/N) exchanged a look before deciding to approach him.

“Excuse me, please, but can you help me?” (Y/N) inquired politely, folding her hands in front of her, watching as the old man's glazed eyes looked up to her and set into focus properly.

“Oh! A young girl,” He drawled, inspecting her swiftly before looking over to Roger “ And who’s this?”

“A friend,” (Y/N) didn’t notice the look of confusion and joy that crossed Roger face when he switched his gaze over to her.

“Oh. What can I do for you, my dear?” The old man asked and (Y/N) nearly leapt back when the bird on his hat opened its eyes and looked at the pair.

“I, uh, I have to get to the tower near the end of the labyrinth. Do you know the way?” She requested, hopefulness laced in her tone.

“You want to go to the tower? Well, sometimes the way forward is also the way back,” The old man advised, frowning when the bird on his head tutted.

“Will you listen to this crap?” It muttered sarcastically and even appeared freaked out, though (Y/N) knew he had to have seen weirder.

“Will you be quiet!” The old man snapped at his hat, which instantly quietened down, “Quite often, young lady, it seems like we’re not getting anywhere when in fact, we are,” (Y/N) sighed as his advised appeared to be just as useless as Roger’s word of loyalty.

“I’m not getting anywhere at the moment,” She replied, beyond tired and frustrated at her current predicament. The bird let out a humourless chuckle.

“Join the club!” When the bird and (Y/N) looked back to the old man, he was fast asleep, quiet snores emanating from his throat. “And I think that’s your lot. Please leave a contribution in the little box,” The bird extended the old mans hand, which held a little wooden box with a slit in the top. She reached for Roger’s bag of jewels but Roger snatched her wrist.

“Don’t you dare! They’re mine,” He seethed and (Y/N) rolled her eyes before placing the jewels back in her pocket. She glanced down and noticed the flimsy ring on her finger that her step-mom had given her when they first met. She slowly slid it off and placed it in the box.

“Gracias Senorita!” The hat chirped as (Y/N) and Roger turned around and began to walk further into the labyrinth, soon finding themselves in winding grassy lanes once again.

“Why did you say I was your friend?” Roger pondered out loud. (Y/N) looked to him like he’d just asked the most stupid question in all of history.

“Because you are. Sure, you’re not much of a friend, but you’re the only one I’ve got,” She answered, firmly, and for once, it didn’t sound like a strained lie.

“Friend, huh? I like that. I haven’t been no one’s friend before,” He smiled at her before a scream broke through the air causing the duo the tense. “Oh! Goodbye!” He began to run off before (Y/N) grabbed his arm.

“Are you my friend or not?” She snapped and he broke from her grip and shook his head.

“No! I’m not anybody’s friend! I look after myself like everyone else does!” Roger answered and sprinted off and out of her sight.

“Roger! You coward!!” (Y/N) called after him. Another scream drifted into the sky and her eyes turned towards the sound. “Well, I’m not afraid. Things aren’t always what they seem in this place.”

(Y/N) proceeded to follow the noise, and despite her declaration of no fear, she couldn’t prevent her hands from shaking. After twisting and turning through the labyrinth for a little while, she finally found the source of the noise. May was hung upside down from a tree, chains wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his side, and some of the guards (Y/N) had seen at the party previously were jabbing at him with sharp sticks. May was trying to shift against his binds, attempting to avoid the pain-inflicting objects, but the soldiers had him surrounded.

“Try this for size, you lanky hairball.”

“Some wizard you are, you can’t even get out of your chains!”

‘If only I had something to throw,’ (Y/N) thought and, as if the land had heard her, which she wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if it could, a stone rolled to her feet. Hesitantly, she picked it up and with all her might, she threw it, hitting it square in the back of one of the soldier's helmets. Silence fell upon the group and May’s eyes flitted to her fearfully, not only for himself but for her. The soldier that had been hit approached her, placing the end of the stick under her chin and pushing it up as high as it could go, which was an extremely uncomfortable position for the girl.

“The human girl. Shame we can’t lay a finger on you. Yet. Don’t cross us again, human or I might not be so understanding,” He threatened, before looking back to his men “ Move out. Leave her with the fluffball,” And just like that, the soldiers filtered out through a hole in the wall that instantly shut behind them. Without another second's hesitation, she ran to May, trying to find where his chains wrapped to dangle him upside down.

“What in the king's name are you doing?” May questioned curiously, eyeing her as she found where his chain was wrapped and began to untangle it from the branch. Before she could blink, May fell onto the ground, banging his head on the floor. “Shit! I’m so sorry, are you okay?” She yelped, extending a hand to pull him up. Cautiously, the curly-haired wizard grasped her hand and allowed her to help him to her feet. “And I heard your call and came to help you.”

“So, you’re not gonna hit me, or prod me with anything?” May’s head tilted slightly, making him look very puppy-like. (Y/N) narrowed he eyebrows in bewilderment.

“Of course not. Why would I ever do that?” She responded.

“Everyone else does,” May answered simply.

“Well, I’m not everyone else,” She gave him a reassuring smile and he smiled back, though it was the slightest bit awkward. Then his eyes turned worried as he looked over her form.

“You’re bleeding,” He said, concern lacing his voice. (Y/N) looked down and saw the graze on her knee had blood leaking down her leg and blood had seeped into her shirt near her shoulder.

“Oh, uh, I guess I am,” She mumbled, only then realising how much her shoulder and knee had begun to ache.

“Here,” May lightly ran his hand over her shoulder before kneeling and doing the same to her knee. The aching didn’t go away but the cuts had closed and her shorts and shirt and transformed into some old fashioned pants and a crisp white shirt with a black waistcoat laying over the top, and she was beyond grateful, though very lost on what had just happened. And thankfully, the weight in her pocket didn’t cease

“How did you-?”

“I’m a wizard, I guess,” May cut her off, bashfully running a hand through his curls. Slowly, and completely unsure of the consequences, she brought May into a hug.

“Thank you.”

TELL ME IF I FORGOT TO TAG ANYONE!”

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @loveandbeloved29 @sam-mercurry-sixx@sunflower-borhap-boys @bouncingjoe @lets-go-panic-at-discos@storiesandcelestialbodies @everything-you-dont-wanna-be @sincereleygmg@mirkwoodshewolf@queendeakyy@sprinkle-covered-leeks @ikbenplant @queen-paladin @scarlettequinn @simonedk

Tags:  @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky@yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten   @bensroger@strangeandwonderfulconcepts@babebenhardy@benhardyjones @silvver-rose @psychosupernatural

[detective-salt]

So, I have a Queen Roleplay Discord Server ...

So ...

First and foremost, I suppose I should explain the server's basic Roleplay features. In this server, you can choose play up to two available characters - though it would be preferable to start with one character and request another a little later. You can ask to switch characters at any time, but please do not change them frequently.

Regarding the Universe around this server, in the 1900s, Queen will be Roleplayed, but the BoRhap Boys can be included, sort of like an AU, but not in the AU Category ! Queen can obviously be Roleplayed there without the BoRhap Boys to keep it Canonical as well.

In the 2000s, if you want to add Queen to a BoRhap Boys Roleplay, you have the choice on whether you would like to make Queen the same age as the BoRhap Boys or their present day ages.

The server is split into categories,

Out of Character ( Which is self explanatory ), the 1960s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s and 2010s ( Which are all for Canonical Roleplay ) and the Alternate Universes ( Which again is self explanatory ). We also have Event Specific Roleplays ! There is also a NSFW options on each category, just in case we get some sinners - Oh ! We also have a Social Media category !! Which is also Roleplay. It's for the Modern AU, where Queen and the BoRhap Boys are the same age. There are groupchats and ( imitations of ) Social Media platforms like Instagram and Twitter.

We also have a few rules, which I'll put here for convenience.

1. First and foremost - simply respect each other. Bullying will not be tolerated. Hate the character, not the player. Really, this should go without saying. If anyone in the server is purposely being made uncomfortable inside or outside of the server, this should be brought to the attention of one of the Admins ( with screenshots or some kind of proof ). It will be discussed in a private, temporary chat with whoever the conflict I between and at least four Admins. You'll be given a warning if you're caught doing this.

2. Yes, NSFW content is allowed, but that is not the focus of this server, and if it is seen outside of its designated chat you will be warned if there are further disruptions.

3. Please read the rules before you start to roleplay. It's nice to follow the established universe so people don't get confused and everyone is on the same page.

5. You can swear, obviously, but please don't start using this freedom to bully other roleplayers.

6. There is no expiry to problems both in and out of the roleplay. It doesn't matter if you're caught a year later, you're still caught, and can still be punished.

7. Please do not advertise servers in any chat without permission from one of the Admins It's pretty rude and disruptive, and will probably be allowed if you just ask !

8. Please make your reply at least three sentences long, this is a Semi-Literate server. You won't explicitly be given warnings for this, but if it continues for, let's say a day, you will politely be asked to either try to write in this manor or to leave the server.

9. Don't bring your own personal drama into the Roleplay. If there is an issue, like I said in the first rule, please bring it up to an Admin and it will be discussed in a private chat.

10. Don't control other people's characters. There are exceptions, of course ( minor actions like hugging or pulling a character's arm, etc. ) and assumptions can be made if there has not been a reply ( assuming the character themself hasn't replied, assuming the character follows the rest of them if they leave an area, etc. )

11. Original Characters are absolutely allowed ! Just please keep them somewhat realistic ! ( Of course in any AUs, they can be changed however you want. )

I'll also put the current Roles on here for convenience - but I may be slow to update this.

• Freddie Mercury - Taken

• Brian May - Taken

• Roger Taylor - Taken

• John Deacon - Taken

• Mary Austin - Taken

• Jim Hutton - ( open )

• Paul Prenter - Taken

• Jim "Miami" Beach - Taken

• John Reid - ( open )

• Ray Foster - ( open )

• Peter "Pheobe" Freestone - Taken

• Kashmira Bulsara - Taken

• Jer Bulsara - ( open )

• Bomi Bulsara - Taken

• Veronica Tetzlaff - ( open )

• Dominique Beyrand - Taken

• Debbie Leng - ( open )

• sErInA pOtGiEtEr - ( open )

• Chrissie Mullen - ( open )

• Anita Dobson - ( open )

• Rami Malek - Taken

• Joe Mazzello - Taken

• Ben Hardy - ( open )

• Gwilym Lee - ( open )

• Lucy Boynton - Taken

If there's somebody else you want to be that I've missed then you're completely welcome to just ask and I'll have the role up !

And that should be it ! If you're interested, please Direct Message me with which character you want and I'll give you the link !!!

[sevenseas-queen]

a girl | Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor

Summary: Being in a band with four other guys were sometimes a pain in the ass. Everyone has their secrets and so does Y/n.

Pairings: Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor x Female Reader

AU: Queen!Member!Singer!Y/n Y/l/n

Warnings: Rude Language, someone hitting someone.

A/n: This kinda follows BoRhap since I found a perfect link to watch the movie all over again. Let’s just say this takes part after Freddie joins the boys. They have been doing a number of pub gigs before they make album 1. Correct me if I am ever wrong, I hate making myself look a fool out of things I simply might know. Just a lack of knowledge when I am writing. I did write a song called Another Love since I sing and do all that jazz so please don’t think I’m ripping some artist off! Part one of Secrets!! Pls send me an ask to be added to this series or my permanent taglist! Also like and reblog, love to see reactions, it helps boost motivation!!!!

[teaser]

“Are you sure that she knows we are here?”, a voice says quietly. Freddie nodded at Deaky with a convincing smile.

You were asleep soundlessly on the black couch with Kira who snuggled into your lap. The dog lightly growled out at the boys who stood feet from Y/n.

“Kira that’s enough.”, You said with your eyes closed. A yawn followed after.

Papers were scattered everywhere on the coffee table in front of the boys. An acoustic guitar on the end of the couch along with a whole drum set in the far corner of the room. It caught Rogers attention very quickly.

“Your friend she seems very musically talented?”, Roger questions as he went over to the drum set.

“She is darling. That is why we need her.”, he says as he pursed his lips and clapped his hands. Making the small corgi jump off his best friend and off somewhere around the flat.

Roger scanned the black set. It looked very new and the drumsticks were on the stool. He smirked to himself as he grabbed them. They were midway wrapped with black tape. It made him chuckle. He sat on the stool, his hands twirled the sticks calmly.

Roger didn’t know you. Freddie constantly chatted up a storm about you. It made him jealous. If this Y/n was good then he could easily be replaced. The Roger Taylor couldn’t have that.

Deaky looked around the flat as his eyes landed on Roger. Roger smirked at Deaky and lifted his hands up. “Roger no!”

The half wrapped sticks hit the set violently making you jump up in fright. “What the bloody fuck are you doing with my-“

“Darling you’re up!”, Freddie chirps like a mother who had seen their child do a good deed. Roger stepped away from the set, placing the sticks back on the stool. Feeling relieved with what he had done.

“I am sadly. What are you doing here Freddie?”, You say too mad to even process the fact that four men were all in your flat.

“We need a huge favor, love.”, he replies as he hands you the guitar. “Play that song you wrote for me. What was it called? Another Love?”

Your jaw clenched as the guitar was now placed at your feet. “I-“

“Freddie says you’re good at almost everything. Then show us.”, Roger says while he crossed his arms over his toned chest.

You look up at the blonde haired boy. You furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m sorry but who the fuck are you?”, You tried to sound funny but it came out very harsh. What was he doing here? You almost threw your guitar at Freddie for bringing his friends here. Especially the biggest man whore on campus.

Roger bit his lip back as Deaky made a ‘o’ shape with his mouth. Brian stood back along with Freddie unaware of this situation and how to talk you out of hurting each other feelings.

“Oh love, my names Roger Taylor. The drummer of Queen. You are?”, he says with a raise of his eyebrow. You rolled your tired eyes and grabbed the guitar. ‘No shit.’, you wanted to say or just give him a flirty laugh and an eye roll but you didn’t.

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n and next time your pretty ass messes with my drums. I’ll carve you a new one.”, You say satisfied with your remark. You start to tune your guitar. Deaky gulped and moved closer towards Brian. Roger smirked at your reply.

“Y/n! That’s very rude!”, Freddie goes as he takes a seat next to you. You shrugged it off and started playing the chords you wrote down.

You cleared your throat and hummed lightly.

“Another love. Another love.”, you sang slowly dragging out the love in the end.

“You walked away from this heartache but you’re too late. I stayed the same.”, your fingers pressed against the cool chords as you sped up the song a little bit. You closed your eyes getting the feel of the song you wrote about someone that never even knew you existed.

“Tell me, oh another love. Tell me you wanted to stay. I can see it in your eyes. Along with those lies. ”, you looked up as you sang. Freddie had a huge smile on his face mumbling along the lyrics with you. The rest of his band mates stood around the coffee table shocked.

“Another love, another day, another lie-okay I’m done. There.”, You stopped abruptly as you stopped strumming the guitar.

“Not bad.”, Roger says as he now leans against the white wall. Deaky rolled his eyes at Rogers remark.

“That was good. That really doesn’t show us how strong your vocals are-“, the guy with large curly hair said as he looked at Freddie for guidance.

“She has some talen-“

“What about you? What do you think?”, You ask politely to the guy who hadn’t said anything but look around.

He was taken back and licked his lips. “For starters it’s okay. Not my type of-“

“Good so we can leave. We are good with just us four.”, Roger adds in completely cutting off his band mate.

You sighed, bringing your hand up to your forehead to rub it lightly. They weren’t supposed to be here. You didn’t even know Freddie created a band much less a band that screamed irony and fashion.

“Freddie?”

“Yes darling, Y/n.”

“What are you gits doing here. I barely know any of you.”, You pester as you got up. Your pajamas loosely hung around your body and the socks you were was pushed down. You looked pathetic in front of his friends.

Freddie knew that look you had on your face. He had something better up his sleeve. Freddie needed you as much as you needed him. You’re like a baby sister to him. He knew how much you wanted to become someone whose name were in lights to touring all around the world.

“Give us a minute, boys.”, Freddie says as he lightly pulled you away from the three men. You didn’t protest or put up a fight when Freddie sighed.

“I’m not joining your band of mis-“

“Y/n, you came here to get away from your family in America. You came here to live a life filled with music. I don’t take no for an answer darling and you know that.”, he says as he cuts you off.

He waited for your reply. Your fingers wrapped around a long strand of your y/h/c hair as you thought about what he said. He was right. You got away to pursue in music and study it. This was a chance, it could be for fun or for a real cost.

You smiled to yourself, “I’ll join your band. If your little mates are okay with it.”

Freddie clapped suddenly. Happier than you were. He pulled you in a quick embrace and whispered, “They’ll love you! We have a gig tonight and you’re gonna be there! Bye darling! See you in a few.”

You couldn’t protest. Your best friend was out the door along with his friends. Leaving you all alone and wondering why you got yourself into this mess.

“What did I just agree too?”, You say to yourself as you went up to your bedroom. Kira followed quickly behind you.

You nodded slightly as you started to warm up on the drum set. You tried to get the nerves out of your system. You were to caught up in the drumming when all of the sudden four men appear in your doorway of the flat.

You stopped suddenly and twirled the stick in your left hand through your fingers.

You made sure to make eye contact with the blonde haired drummer. The same boy who caught your eye on campus.

“Now she is just showing off!”, he says while rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his toned chest. Roger was about to throw the biggest bitch fit in Y/n’s flat and his band mates were ready for it.

“I must say even with your looks you still act like a bit-“, You urge in to say but Freddie clears his throat, demanding all attention on him. “My apologies.”

“My little Y/n has agreed to join our band before we hit the road for this gig-“

“Wait hit the road? You didn’t say anything about hitting the road, Fred.”, You say with wide eyes as you stepped away from your drum set.

“Yes darling, now are show is around noon tomorrow so let’s get this show started!”, Freddie continues as he walked around the flat. He smiled at his shocked friends that had on all disappointed stricken looks for Y/n joining the band.

They were well with just them but Freddie wanted one more. He knew just who to go too. Someone who knew how to construct and develop music but that didn’t mean anything to the boys.

“A female? In our band!”, Brian questions out as took a seat in the lounge chair. Deaky and Roger followed quickly after.

Y/n sighed as she walked to her kitchen. The small kitchen felt as if it was suffocating her. Freddie backed you up against three other men you barely knew.

“Fine Freddie, let her become part of Queen!”, an agitated voice yells out making you jump out of your skin. You sipped on the tea that was no longer warm and watched as the boys all piled in the small kitchen.

Flashing them a small smile, you placed the cup back down and straightened up your posture.

The man with curly hair stepped forward, “We welcome you with open arms into Queen. My name is Brian May and I am the guitarist.”, he says as he tries to smile but he just scratches the back of his neck.

“Nice to meet you Brian. Y/n Y/l/n a pleasure.”, You give him a nod and watched as the guy you asked earlier if your song was okay step up, awkwardly.

“My name is John Deacon, Deaky for short. I am the bassist of this band.”, He says making slight eye contact with you as he steps back by his position next to Brian.

“Y/n nice to meet you!”, You say trying to make him less uncomfortable then he already was.

Freddie smiles at you as he nudged Roger to step up. Roger groaned as he stepped up. “You know who I am-“

“Roger Taylor the drummer who gets all the girls. Got cha.”, You say as you rolled your eyes at the attractive blond.

“You’re the American who I haven’t yet to shag-“

“You’re not going too sweetheart. Its Y/n and don’t wear it out.”, You say with a smirk on your face. You didn’t know where all this energy came from especially the confidence. It did feel good and to think this is how he gets all the women.

“Y/n are you not gonna get up there with us?”, Brian asks as he tunes his electric guitar. You bit your lip and thought about what he had said. The large hoop earrings shook harshly when you shook your head a simple no.

“Just watching for tonight until-“

“Nonsense, we will introduce you in the end.”, Brian says as he squeezes your shoulder gently before heading off onto the small makeshift stage.

You watched from down on the pub floor. The drink in your hand was not even half gone when a guy next to you took it from you. You stepped back from him and gave him a death glare.

“You the bands groupie?”, he asks as he sips the drink he snatched from you. You raised an eyebrow into an arch, scoffing you walked back to the side of the stage. The guy had other plans, “Hey! I’m talking to y-“

“We would like welcome our newest member of Queen! Y/n Y/l/n!”, Freddie yelled into the mic as you turned around to the see the guy with your drink almost grab you.

You stumbled onto the stage while Deaky caught you. “She is quite the sweetest!”, Freddie applauds as the crowd cheered. He handed you the mic as you looked passed your shoulder the guy had disappeared.

You moved passed Deaky and Freddie, the crowd stares in awe as you whispered a small, “Hi.”, into the mic.

You looked out into the crowd and suddenly got nervous. You handed the mic back to Freddie and ran off of the stage.

“Why did you run off? We are gonna perform with you!”, Freddie exclaims as you kicked the gravel around your boot.

“Didn’t feel like. I’m American, my accent gives it away, you brits aren’t too fond of them.”, you complain as you shrugged your shoulders, a yawn escaped your lips. Freddie nodded along as he helped the boys load up their things. Roger walking out of the pub with two females under his arms and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

You scoffed, no use in trying to bid your way out of the band now. They were already warming up to you. Your crush on Roger Taylor was little, like the length of your pinky finger, small and useless. It was going to fade away.

“You didn’t tell us, you had a boyfriend.”, Roger says while the girls moved out of the way to reveal the guy who took your drink earlier. The girls started to giggle at the guy and whisper to each other.

You look up suddenly, making eye contact with the guy, he had a smile on his face. “As if, this jerk snatched my drink out of my hands and called me the bands groupie. Then he-“

“She’s lying.”, The guy says as he tries to step up to you. Freddie gets in the way of you both but you push him out of the way.

“Fuck off you sick fuck.”, You say as your fist collided with the guys nose, Brian and Deaky grabbed onto you, pulling you back into the van. Roger blinked a couple of times before looking shocked.

The guy groaned out as he tries to come at you. Roger stepped up out of action, getting ready to throw a punch. The guy looked at Roger than back at you, he groaned once more and painfully mutters, “Whatever, she is a slut anyways.”, as he lifted his head up in the air.

“Y/n hasn’t gotten with anyone, seems as if you just had your first fan for tonight.”, Freddie says as he grabs the hand you use to hit the guy. You hissed as he lightly examined it. “You’ll live.”

The ride back to Y/n’s flat was almost silent. The constant giggles of the two girls Roger had in the back gotten annoying and very rowdy. The boys were nearly drunk out of their mind while Y/n fell asleep. She thought about the band and where this would take her. Y/n smiled in her sleep as Freddie snapped a picture of it off of the Polaroid.

Roger snatched it out of his hands quickly and looked at the photo. “She’s a beaut.”

“Stop trying to get in her pants, she doesn’t want you.”, Freddie says as he takes the photo from him.

“We will see about that, Freddie.”, Roger says as he puffed on the cigarette, taking a look at Y/n. You looked peaceful and content on your small space on the seat.

Roger grabbed the blanket off of the vacant seat and placed it on you. Y/n snuggled into the blanket and sighed. “Sleep well, Y/n.”, he whispers as he pats your head lightly before walking away to the back.

[Secrets Taglist] @toms-order @imnothinglikenormal

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

Separation Anxiety - The Twins

A/N: For my mob AU which was inspired by the ever lovely @borhap-socials posts. Imagine the Twins however you’d like physically. Thank you to my PSM @mollymarymarie for proof-reading and being the inspiration for this. I am going to miss you so much on rotation. 🖤

Warnings: anxiety, traumatic event mention, separation, pretty fluffy tho

Word Count: 1.1k

How lucky do you have to be to find your soulmate in this world? Well, finding them is the easy part. Recognizing them as such is far more difficult. So often, we think they have to be romantic, that we miss the platonic ones gifted to us. 

Early Life

Prudence and Temperance have been together literally their whole lives.

Like since conception.

They were separated into different classes in school, but that didn't really work.

Pru had a nasty habit of talking Tempe into switching places throughout the day.

Famine was the only one that caught on.

Eventually, the school gave in and let them be in the same class.

Their productivity increased and they got more social, which is not what the teachers were expecting.

As they got older, the girls got more involved in student government (lots of skills to be sharpened there) and held Class President and Vice President from 5th grade until they graduated.

Pru always ran for president, her ambition knows no bounds.

Tempe always ran for vice president, she was always needed to temper her sister.

Famine was usually secretary, always making sure that his girl and her sister had everything they needed.

College

In college, they double majored in criminal justice and political science.

They saw each other 7 days a week and turned in the best projects and papers their professors had ever seen.

They had to work their way up the ladder from freshman to senior positions in student government.

But they graduated as the President and Vice President that changed the most within the University for student life.

They always felt like they were destined to shake things up and move the world forward from some dusty tomb an old man deemed tradition.

Some things never change.

Adulthood

As they left college and became more involved with the family, Pru and Tempe's work got more intertwined.

There isn't a day they don't communicate through some means.

Most days, it's face to face and constant texting.

Occasionally, one of them will just take a day off and hide.

They can’t switch places as easily as they used to, but they know enough to be interchangeable when needed.

Substituting one for the other is never as good as having them in combination.

They feed off of the other’s energy while simultaneously balancing the other out.

Pru bolsters Tempe’s quiet confidence, reminding her that she’s almost always right and should trust in Pru if she feels she cannot trust herself.

Tempe quells Pru’s lust for power, reminding her that there is more to the world than she can control.

Mumbai

One day, Pru got a call to go on a long distance job.

Her strategic skills are unmatched and she’s often contracted out to plan missions in other countries.

Usually, she can do this from the comfort of her own home.

This time, she had to go in person. Something about a unique security system that wasn’t on the books.

The job took 2 weeks in Mumbai with radio silence.

It is still the longest and farthest they’ve ever been apart.

The girls don’t talk about it often.

They still functioned independently, but Famine could see that something was missing from Tempe.

Those 2 weeks dragged on for her and she seemed to wane like the moon, holding only a fraction of her usual radiance.

Prudence returned home a little beaten and bruised, but with her usual poise.

She never breathed a word of what happened to anyone, not even Tempe.

If the two days following their reunion were quiet and still, no one commented on it.

Partners

Famine has known the Twins since they were in Pre-K together.

He is the only person that has been able to tell them apart for their entire lives with no visual coding.

He has always been drawn to Temperance.

Something about her settles him in a way he can’t explain.

He and Prudence have also gotten along famously well.

Prudence respects the fact that he’s never tried to force her away from her sister or made the mistake of confusing them as the same person (inside and out).

Conquest didn’t come along until they were almost through with their training within the family.

He was taken by Prudence immediately.

Her poise and the power she holds in her stance is absolutely captivating. He still finds himself distracted by it all these years later.

He also has the innate ability to tell the twins apart at all times, even when Tempe calls from Pru’s phone and vice versa.

Temperance was the first of the twins to trust him.

She pushed him to pursue Prudence after figuring out his feelings. He has always loved Tempe for this.

The Wedding

Prudence knew that Famine was going to propose before he bought the ring.

The day he came to ask for her approval, which was much more important than their father’s, she asked him what took so long.

There was almost a fight over who would have Pru on their side at the wedding.

Tempe won, obviously.

She was the best Maid of Honor that they could have asked for.

Pru knows both of them so well that she could have planned the whole thing herself, but she only handled the day of.

If anything went wrong, and boy did it, Tempe and Famine were none the wiser.

She even managed to arrange a small photoshoot for her and Tempe.

It was just 3 pictures, but they meant the world to both of them.

Tempe opening a gift from Pru (a string of pearls), Prudence placing Tempe’s veil (handed down from their mother), a shot of Pru’s face after seeing Tempe in her completed look for the first time.

Looking back, there’s not a second of it either of them would have changed.

The Engagement

Temperance has waited on her sister all her life. It’s a habit she picked up from being 7 minutes older.

The day Conquest finally came to her was the second happiest in her whole life.

She helped pick the ring.

Not that he needed it. All the choices he showed Tempe were perfect for Pru. The one Conquest favored the most was actually the one that they picked.

Tempe was also responsible for getting the couple a moment of peace in their usually full house.

Conquest decorated the room (after removing all of his beloved’s little toys. There isn’t a room in the house she doesn’t at least have ears in) and Tempe pampered Pru making sure that she looked her absolute best for the photos later.

No one but Pru and Conquest know exactly how it played out. It’s their favorite secret to keep. Tempe knows better than to pry.

Prudence knows exactly how much her sister was involved and doesn’t think she could ever say thank you enough.

Tag List: @rogers-wristbands @deakydeckme @bitemerog

A/N: PM me to be added to the list or if there’s anything you want to see/any questions you have. Enjoy! 

[himbohunnicutt]

MASTERLIST

BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

GWILYM LEE

FICS AND ONESHOTS

Per Ardua Ad Astra (Complete) - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Let’s Dance to Joy Division (And Celebrate the Irony)

Panic Attack

I Wanna Live with Common People Like You - A Britpop AU (Ongoing) - PART 1

Suspend your Disbelief in Revolution - A Russian Revolution AU (Ongoing) - PART 1 - PART 2

HEADCANONS

Coming Home (Headcanon)

Capri (Headcanon)

Mix my Ashes with Ink (Professor!Gwil Headcanon)

Mud (Headcanon)

Just a Girl (Headcanon)

Save your Kisses for Me (Headcanon)

Brief Encounter (Headcanon)

Baby I’m Yours (Headcanon)

Sweeter than Sugar (Headcanon)

A Thousand Worlds (Headcanon)

Tension (Headcanon)

I’ll Be Thanking You (Headcanon)

Valletta (Headcanon)

Making Your Mind Up (Headcanon)

Power to the People (Headcanon)

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS

estelle (social media fic)

Desdemona (Social Media Fic)

Viola (Social Media Fic)

BEN HARDY

HEADCANONS

Paramour (Headcanon)

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS

Ophelia (Social Media Fic)

Celia (Social Media Fic)

JOE MAZZELLO

HEADCANONS

Euphoria (Headcanon)

Call Me (Headcanon)

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS

Hermia (Social Media Fic)

LUCY BOYNTON

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS

bridgette (social media fic)

RAMI MALEK

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS

Helena (Social Media Fic)

Lavinia (Social Media Fic)

Yes Minister - A BoRhap Cast Politics AU (with @how-manygalileos)

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

BONUS MATERIAL

Picture of the Week - One

Character Playlists - KICK - ELSIE - MARTHA

MIDSOMER MURDERS

DS CHARLIE NELSON 

A Series of One Shots, listed in sort of chronological order - COMPLETE

Something (In The Way She Moves)

Tomorrow may rain, so I’ll Follow the Sun

Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night

And In The End, The Love You Take, Is Equal To The Love You Make

ONESHOTS

Where the Wild Roses Grow

QUEEN

JOHN DEACON

HEADCANONS

You’re my Best Friend (Headcanon)

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS

Rosalind (Modern!AU Social Media Fic)

BRIAN MAY

HEADCANONS

Mrs May (Headcanon)

Library Lovin’ (Gwilym!Brian headcanon)

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS

Innogen (Modern!AU Social Media Fic)

SUEDE

BRETT ANDERSON

MULTI-CHAPTER

If I Waited for Perfection (Ongoing) - AO3 - PLAYLIST

ONESHOTS

Wastelands 

MAT OSMAN

ONESHOTS

Each Reunion

RICHARD OAKES

ONESHOTS

I’m beggin’, darlin’, please

WEST HAM UNITED

MARK NOBLE

HEADCANONS

Smile (Headcanon)

MANCHESTER UNITED

OLE GUNNAR SOLSKJAER

ONESHOTS

Dating Miss Neville (AO3)

DOWNTON ABBEY

EDITH/ANTHONY

ONESHOTS

Fascinated by your goodness (AO3)

[angelic-guardienne]

Ss anon- Gladio wrote a song, once. He’s never shown the others. It’s just lyrics and simple chords, and it’s... embarrassingly emotional to him. It’s about death, and dying, two things he acts so casually about but really get to him, especially since his life isn’t really his. A part of him is ashamed of it since it means his loyalty isn’t absolute, but no matter how many times he’s almost added that music to the fire, he never can bring himself too. He thinks he’s a coward for that.

Ss anon- Ardyn has tried to write a song a couple of times in his years of immortality. Usually they end up being used as a coaster, or a paper airplane, or it’s a messy, rambling blasphemy against the gods and the kings that doesn’t fit any rhythm under the sun, even if he tries

Ss anon- Ardyn is still a little goblin man. He’ll make up the dirtiest songs and set them to beautiful melodies just to make Prompto and Noct laugh, Gladio’s face reddening, and Ignis trying desperately to keep his focus on the road. Also Prompto has definitely written a song about Chocobos and how much he loves them

Ss anon- I keep on having a ton of ideas for this AU and I’m sorry for all the spam but!!! Noct sometimes sends bits of sheet music Ignis wrote or song lyrics he wrote to Luna via the journal- some in bass cleft for her cello, and some in treble for her impossibly high voice. Occasionally, if she mentions Ravus, he’ll get Ignis to help him write something in alto cleft so he can play it on viola without the difficult work of transposing

Ss anon- Luna has a stupid high soprano voice. That’s just a fact. Everyone expects Ravus to be a good singer like his sister, but he can’t, at all, whatsoever. In his defense, he’s a pretty good dancer, whereas Luna has two left feet

Ss anon- Luna can’t write music for the life of her, so she pays Noctis back in poetry, written in her surprisingly messy handwriting, some bits scratched out, but all of it lovely nontheless. No matter how tempting it may be, he doesn’t make them into songs- those words are for him and him alone.

Ss anon- another part of the musician AU that shouldn’t be overlooked is that Noct goes hard when it comes to music. One song he’s working on writing is about how the world would be if justice could be done- there’s trumpet, flute, guitar, drum, piano, four part harmonies that he wants to do with Luna- it’s 10 min. Long so far. He doesn’t plan on cutting any bits. He’ll write songs about politics, nature, fate, Luna, war- anything he can’t get his mind off of but is too scared to say aloud

Ss anon- but not all of his songs are serious- far from it. Noct has written a song about his socks getting wet and not being able to change them for like five hours but it’s so wrapped up in a metaphor that it sounds… tragic and beautiful? Prompto cried the first time he read the lyrics. He cried even harder when Noct told him what it was really about (well, he was cry-laughing this time)

So I tried to group together all the ones concerning songwriting, and I was mildly successful if I say so myself. (i made an exception for the “luna having a stupid high voice” cause idk how i’d fit it into other groups and it came with these so it’s Relevant) 

It’s 1 am and I don’t have much to say besides the usual,,,, i love this so fuckin much. 

Gladio baby you’re not a coward. you can’t share everything you write – i certainly don’t. some things are just too close to home. 

noct’s 10 min song is giving me borhap flashbacks so i immediately know it’s gonna be a huge success. I’m applauding them loudly in the distance. 

Luna’s songs must be… like, absolutely impossible to sing along to. Rip altos who wanna do karaoke lmao (that’d be me) ((also luna having messy handwriting is such a cute hc. like everyone expects this loopy, elegant cursive and it would be if she wasn’t writing so fast 24/7 and actually took the time to go at each letter instead of putting down a line connected to another line at a different angle and calling it a day)

also the fact that noctis plays flute goes SO HARD in my book, as a fellow flute player. i’m really fucking down with that

“Ardyn is still a little goblin man” ss anon, keepin it up with the gold-prize sentences

I’d love to see ravus dance sometime omg ;-; I bet he utilizes some of that in battle, it makes him all the more graceful

just jknsdnwsjkndnwe ;-; this auuuuuuuu

(@thechocoboos before i forget)

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - A BoRhap Politics AU

//Chapt 1//Chapt 2

A/N: ello, ello! c’est chapter 3! me and @rachelweiszs-areawoman hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1842

Chapter 3

“There have been reports of more arson attacks in the main refugee camp in Calais. The Foreign Secretary is expected to make a statement, along with the Prime Minister soon” The newsreader on the TV said. Gwilym quickly switched it off and sank back in his chair. The ongoing crisis in the refugee camps on the French coast had been playing heavily on his mind for a while. As Foreign Secretary, it was his job to liaise with his French counterpart, and work out what was going to be done. With the recent spate of arson attacks within the camps, time was quickly running out. He knew he had to do something, and fast, but he didn’t know what. There was a knock at his office door.

“Come in.” he called, Ben pokes his head around the door.

“Jesus, you look stressed,” he says, chuckling slightly, “seen Red’s new placard?”

“And that is?” Gwil asked,

“Elsie Stewart, you dipshit.” Ben retorted. Gwil looked at him, somewhat disgusted.

“Christ, Ben. A nickname?”, Ben shrugged in response.

“Y’know you might find out she’s a pretty cool girl if you actually spoke to her.”

“I’ve got slightly bigger things on my mind, Ben” Gwilym replied quickly, trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him.

“I know, that’s what I’ve come to you to talk about. The Prime Minister needs a response and a plan from the Foreign Office as soon as possible. He’s had the French President on the blower again this morning” Ben said, putting a handful of takeout menus in front of Gwil “Have these, considering you won’t be leaving the building until this is sorted.”

Gwil all but threw the menus in a drawer of his desk, before he started pacing around the room. He had no idea what he was meant to do in this situation. He’d never been in it before. He’d never been in a situation as serious as this as a Secretary of State. He soon found himself walking in to Kick’s office.

“What do I do, Kick?” He asked as he sank down into the chair opposite the Junior Minister.

“I don’t know. We can’t use the Rhodesia solution again.” Kick replied.

“Well what options do we have?”

“The usual six, Minister.”

“Which are?”

“One - do nothing. Two - issue a statement. Three - lodge an official protest. Four - cut off aid. Five - break off diplomatic relations. Six - declare war.” Kick says, sipping her cup of tea. Gwil just stared at her.

“And which one are we going to do? You seem to know what to do, Kick. Help me out.”

“Well, if we do nothing it implies we agree with what’s happening. If we issue a statement we’ll just look foolish. If we lodge a protest it’ll be ignored. We can’t cut off aid because we’re not giving the french any, and this is technically a row with the French because they came whinging to us about it because we won’t let these refugees into the UK but it’s actually their problem because it’s on french soil.” Kick took a deep breath before she continued “We can’t break off diplomatic relations because we can’t negotiate trade agreements and considering they’re our link to the continent that would be fairly fatal, and if we declare war it’ll look a bit like we’ve overreacted.”

“Which means we do what?” Gwil asked again.

“Tell the French President to fuck off?”

“Seriously Kick, this is the biggest diplomatic crisis I’ve ever had to deal with and I have absolutely no idea what to do.” He almost pleaded.

The next four days were spent in a whirlwind of meetings and chinese takeaways. Lucy was sent to both Gwil and Kick’s houses to get extra clothes and to buy more coffee. Nobody in the Foreign Office slept. Kick and Gwil didn’t leave the building except to go to No. 10 to talk with the Prime Minister. The Secretary of State and his Junior Minister hardly left each other’s sides. An extra desk was brought into Gwilym’s office and Kick set up camp there, her office used for stress-pacing away from everybody else as so not to make them more stressed.

Eventually, after 96 long and arduous hours, they came up with a solution. The solution was sent off to the Prime Minister and implemented. It wasn’t option 6. Kick and Gwilym promptly collapsed.

Gwilym ran over to No. 10 to speak briefly with Prime Minister May, but on his return he found Kick curled up in his desk chair, fast asleep. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her hands were clasped tightly around her sides. Gwilym took off his suit jacket and layed it over her shoulders, before sitting on the floor against his desk. He leant his head back against the hard wood and was asleep in seconds.

Ben walked into Gwilym’s office, and had to bite his tongue to stop himself laughing. Kick, curled up in Gwil’s chair, with the man himself on the floor. Ben silently pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a photo, sending it to Kick.

‘Saw you finally slept with Gwilym x’

--

Ben walked back to Parliament from the foreign office, he lit a cigarette and began walking his regular route. A familiar voice grabbed his attention.

“Hey, Harrow!” Elsie shouted, the nickname poking fun at the fact he was a boarder at Harrow School. She was sat on the curb next to the Winston Churchill statue with a placard that said “REFUGEE CHILDREN BURNING, LEE DOES NOTHING!” written on it.

“Not climbing the statue today, Red?” Ben called back

“Nah, the pigs won’t let me do it anymore. Apparently I’m ‘encouraging vandalism’.” she replied doing air quotes. Ben walked over and sat next to her.

“Want one?” he asked, taking the pack from his inside jacket pocket. Elsie took one, getting her own lighter out of her coat pocket.

“Fuck you, Harrow,” she said, lighting it, “I was trying to quit.” Elsie let out her first breath of smoke and put her lighter back in her pocket. Ben laughed slightly.

“You didn’t have to take one you know.” he said, tapping some ash off the end of his cigarette

“Aye but it’s peer pressure, isn’t it.” she commented, zipping up her jacket and adjusting her beret slightly so it covered her ears a little more.

“So you consider me a peer of yours?” Ben joked, leaning back on the podium slightly a smug look on his face.

“Shut up, pal.” she started, “you know what I mean.”

“So… I’m your pal?” Ben said back, looking even more smug.

“I swear to god, Harrow, I will put this out on that bespoke suit.” he laughed slightly in response, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Anything new happening at the foreign office?” she asked

“Well,” Ben said, taking his phone from his pocket. “Our most beloved Foreign Secretary-”

“That supreme prick, Lee.” Elsie interrupted, taking another drag.

“Our most beloved Foreign Secretary and his equally fantastic junior minister-”

“Shawcross.” Elsie interrupted again.

“Are you going to let me finish, Red?” Ben asked, exasperated as he opened up his photos. Elsie raised her eyebrows and leant over to look at the phone. She saw the photo of Kick and Gwilym asleep in Gwil’s office, and burst out laughing.

“Oh, that’s class. I knew Shawcross was effectively running the Foreign office but at least I have some proof now.” she smirked mischievously.

“You’re not allowed to use this against the Foreign Secretary, Red. This stays between us.” Elsie scowled slightly, Ben rolled his eyes playfully.

“Harrow…” she pleaded, fully aware of the amount of damage this could do, should it get out with the wrong spin.

“I mean it, Stewart. You are not allowed to use it.” Ben warned now in a serious tone of voice, he replaced his phone into his pocket and put out his cigarette.

“Okay, fine.” she reluctantly said, “but when they want to go public, you have to let me break the story.”

Ben dropped his cigarette, stubbing it out with his shoe as he made his way back inside the Houses of Parliament. He was queueing for a coffee when a familiar blonde came up behind him.

“Saw you talking to that bloody protester again.” she said, sneering slightly, with a hint of playfulness. Ben turned around to see Miss Martha Bexley MP, conservative Member of Parliament for Brentwood and Ongar. The opposition.

“At least I have friends, Bexley.” Ben teased back.

“Your friend...a communist?”

“Anarchist, actually. At least I have a position within my party, unlike some people” Ben corrected.

“Have you seen what she said about the new ambassador in her latest column? Some of the allegations she was throwing out, I don’t understand how you can listen to her by choice, or how she gets away with it for that matter.” Martha commented

“I haven’t had chance to read it yet, but I imagine it’s as outrageous as always,” Ben replied, “Also she’s actually very interesting to talk to” he added

“Right… suit yourself.” Martha said, beginning to walk away from him “Goodbye Hardy, have fun consulting with criminals” Martha called as she made her way to the opposition offices, he smiled as she walked away, there was something about her but he was yet to figure it out. Ben saw a newspaper sitting on one of the cafe tables, open to Elsie’s column. He picked it up and began to read as he walked towards the Government side of the Houses of Parliament. 

Joe Mazzello: The Boy-Billionaire of New York, the title read. It made Ben chuckle slightly.

Following the retirement of Louis Susman last summer, it was the turn of boy-billionaire Joe Mazzello, or to give him his full title Staff Sergeant Joseph Francis Mazzello III, to take the position of American Ambassador to the UK. Being “unprecedentedly young” is often a quality I endorse in political figures, however we must take into account that with youth does come lack of experience. Before now, Mazzello has held no office; diplomatic or political. He is a 30-something with a business degree and more money than he knows what to do with…  

“Not even a paragraph in and already two solid insults.” Ben said to himself, Elsie had exceeded herself. He continued skim reading until he made it back to his office. He sat down, leaning back and swinging his feet up onto his desk.

…A young, rich, socialite with a fantasy of being a hotshot politician; donates a sizeable amount of money to a presidential campaign and when that campaign succeeds, the position of ambassador to a major allied nation is handed over on a silver platter. It just doesn’t sit right.

They were quite a grandiose set of accusations, admittedly not too dissimilar from her normal works. But something felt different this time, more personal and less fact-based. Ben wondered if she’d had an encounter with Joe, who’d seemed to him enthusiastic and mild-mannered, and put her spin on it as she was want to do. It was Elsie Stewart after all.

[how-manygalileos]

Picture of the Week #1

A/N: so this is a little bit of Bonus Material, if you will, for @rachelweiszs-areawoman and my fic Yes, Minister. Picture of the week is a round in the British political satire panel show Mock The Week, go check it out if you don’t know what it is, there’s a bunch of episodes on youtube - it’s very funny. Essentially when we were procrastinating actual writing, I wrote transcripts for a bunch of these segments within this AU, so I thought I’d post them as they became pertinent to the story. 

----

Dara O’Briain: So now we move onto picture of the week, I show a topical image and we see what our panelists can come up with. Sara, can you tell me what's going on here?

Sara Pascoe: Is he saying "Haaaaave you met Ben?"

Nish Kumar: I think Hardy's saying to Mazzello "Joe, we stopped playing the mirror game when we got out of the taxi"

Ed Byrne: Is this just a really tragic attempt at two people shaking hands?

Hugh Dennis: Are they displaying Ben Hardy's invisible breasts?

Rob Beckett: It looks like they're both tryna ask the same girl out?

Sara: And they're both trying not to get annoyed at the other one?

Nish: It kind of looks like they're going to prom.

Milton Jones: Prom, that's one of the American things that's made it's way over to Britain... I don't see how that relates to this.

Ed: Has he just been asked "Mr Ambassador, who would you say is the most handsome young man in the room?"

Sara: Are they both making excuses for why they can't pick up the bar tab at the end of the night?

Ed: Is Hardy's excuse that he's 14?

Hugh: This the new comedy double act, Corporal and Hardy.

Sara and Nish: But he's a Staff Sergeant.

Hugh: I KNOW

Dara: Yes, but Staff Sergeant and Laurel doesn’t rhyme. Doesn't quite have the nice comical ring to it.

Nish: That doesn't change the fact that it is factually inaccurate, Dara.

Ed: You just said they were going to prom?

Nish: No, I said they look like they were going to prom.

Sara: That is technically factual.

Hugh: Is this the new comedy double act, Staff Sergeant and Hardy?

Dara: It's not the same.

Rob: Is he sayin "we turned up in the same outfit, i made him go home and change his jacket"?

Dara: Can we move towards the correct answer please?

Hugh: This is the new US Ambassador Joseph Mazzello, meeting with Labour MP Ben Hardy.

Dara: Absolutely right, yes. This is Staff Sergeant Joseph Francis Mazzello III, the new US Ambassador to the UK meeting with Labour's chief whip, MP Ben Hardy at his first official meeting with the British government.

Hugh: He's very young is Mazzello.

Ed: Yeah, he's 35... THIRTY FIVE! THAT'S NEARLY A DECADE YOUNGER THAN ME!

Nish: And he's worth something like $4 billion.

Ed: HE'S NEARLY A DECADE YOUNGER THAN ME AND HE'S LOADED!

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - A BoRhap Politics AU

//Chapt 1//Chapt 2// Chapt 3

A/N: me and @rachelweiszs-areawoman finally got another chapter done! between uni deadlines another shit, but here it is, there’s a fair few juicy developments in this instalment  👀👀👀👀👀

Word Count: 2315

Chapter 4

“Refugees are moving across our continent on a scale we have not seen since the second world war, with a third of a million trying to cross the Mediterranean this year, many ready to pay their life savings to criminal gangs who board them on to overcrowded boats and then leave them to drown. Fifty-two people were found dead in the hull of a boat. They had been forced into an airless hold, forced to pay to come up to breathe, and those who could not pay suffocated to death. The pictures of Alan Kurdi have moved a continent—the image of a three-year-old on a beach, a picture that should have been full of life and joy and instead was a tragedy.” (from Yvette Cooper’s speech of 8th September 2015)

Gwilym watched in awe as Kick passionately argued with a member of the opposition. He didn’t know what to think.

He’d thought she was incredible since he’d met her; now, with this speech, she proved him right.

He’d thought she was beautiful since the dinner at No. 10. The dress she was wearing, standing up and arguing her point, was a knockout.

But now, now he thought he might be falling in love with her. Her compassion, her intelligence, her beauty, they all made him fall for her more.

In fact, he knew he was in love with her.

He was, to paraphrase Jane Austen, in the middle before he knew he had begun.

All Gwilym knew, in that moment, was that he needed to be with her.

Gwilym practically ran out of the House of Commons after Kick at the end of the day’s sitting. He caught up with her, and found himself tongue-tied.

“Hello Gwilym” Kick said as they walked through Central Lobby towards the House’s coffee shop.

“H-hi Kick. Look, um, you were fantastic in there….really phenomenal” He said nervously, quickly buying a coffee for him and Kick.

“Thank you, though I’m guessing there’s an ulterior motive to buying me a coffee?”

“Well, um, would you like to go to dinner with me? As- as a date?” Gwilym asked, quietly. He was sure she’d say no.

“I’d love to” Kick replied as they exited the Houses of Parliament and jumped into a cab. Gwilym smiled down into his coffee for a moment.

“Shall we call this our first date, Gwilym? Pick me up at 7 tomorrow for the second?” Kick asked. Gwilym smiled at her.

“See you then” He said as he kissed her cheek, and jumped out of the cab.

-- Joe sat at his desk re-reading Elsie’s column. Even though she had written a whole piece tearing him and his family to shreds, he couldn’t help but be charmed by her. She knew he’d read this. She must have wanted him to see it, she knew he’d read her column after all. Maybe she wanted his attention, maybe she liked his attention and maybe she hadn’t realised that yet. Logging in his computer, he opened up Twitter and typed a name into the search bar. He lingered slightly before pressing enter on the keyboard. He read the most recent tweet to himself.

@elsie_stew Honoured and excited to be speaking at @univofstandrews tomorrow afternoon, open to the public as well as students! More details on the SU website, see you there!

St Andrews. That’s west Scotland. Joe checked the calendar on his phone, he had a free day tomorrow, he could make it. He just wanted to talk face to face, not through Twitter, not through a series of op-eds and public statements; but in person, preferably when she wasn’t chained to a statue of some sort.

“Natalie!” Joe called his assistant into his office, “Could you book me a flight to Edinburgh for tomorrow morning?”

“Of course, Ambassador Mazzello.” she responded, “Can I ask why? - for the accounts” Joe smiled slightly at her curiosity.

“It’s… a personal visit,” he said, not really sure how to define a flight needed to surprise the woman who’d been slamming him in the press, as of late, at a lecture she was giving at a university. Natalie raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, before nodding and walking back to her desk. Joe then turned back to his computer and liked the tweet, thinking this might give Elsie some prior warning for his appearance.

Joe sat back in his chair for a moment and replied to a few emails before taking a some time to look out the window at the London skyline. There was an abrupt knock on his door.

“Come in!” he called, Natalie poked her head around the door.

“It’s Minister Lee for you, sir.” she started, “he says it’s an urgent.” Joe stood up, slightly panicked. What could it possibly be?

“Of course, please send him in.” he responded. A flustered Gwilym rushed into his office, not really making eye contact with him.

“Gwil, what is it? What’s the emergency?” Joe said walking towards him.

“Uhhh - I asked Kick out. Kind of on a whim.” Gwil rambled out, “But she said yes, and now I realise have literally no plans. So I thought ‘who’s got the best reputation with charming women?’ and now I’m here.”

“I’m flattered, Gwil, I really am.” Joe chuckled in response.

“Joe, I really need your help.” Gwilym pleaded.

“Easy.” Joe started, “drinks, dinner, dessert with two spoons. Then of course you make sure she gets home safe.” The panicked expression left Gwil’s face.

“That’s actually great.” Gwil said, Joe nodded knowingly in response, “But where do I take her? I really need this to be special.”

“I could get you a reservation at the Criterion, Marco Pierre White’s a friend of the family.”

“Oh my god, Joe! That would actually be incredible” he knew it was maybe a little much for a first date, but he really wanted it to be special.

“Anything to help a friend.” Joe said smiling.

---

Gwilym jumped out of the cab and asked the driver to hold it. He walked up to Kick’s front door and knocked, nervously straightening his jacket as he waited. She opened the door, and metaphorically knocked him off his feet. The silver and gold dress trailed behind her as Gwilym helped her down the steps from her front door and into the cab, the beading overlay sitting perfectly on her chest. Gwilym could hardly speak. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Kick couldn’t keep her eyes off Gwil for the whole drive to the restaurant. She didn’t know where they were going, but she hoped she wasn’t overdressed. Guessing by Gwilym’s three piece suit, she wasn’t.

The cab pulled up outside the Criterion restaurant in central London. Gwilym hopped out, and almost ran around the cab to open Kick’s door. He paid the driver and offered Kick his arm. She took it, and they walked in together, praying that no photographers were around.

“This is very fancy, Gwilym. How did you get a reservation at such short notice?” Kick asked as they were seated in the corner.

“I...have my ways” Gwilym replied, perusing the menu and wincing slightly at the prices. It was worth it though. Kick would always be worth it.

Kick looked up at Gwilym as their spoons clashed. They shared a white chocolate and marron glace mousse as a dessert, just as Joe suggested, and it seemed to be working a treat. Every time Kick looked up at him through her eyelashes, Gwilym swore his heart would beat out of his chest.

The air was chilly as they left the restaurant, and Gwilym draped his suit jacket around Kick’s shoulders. They hailed a cab and made their way out of central London.

“Come to mine for a nightcap?” Gwilym asked, looking over at his date.

“I’d love to” Kick replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

20 minutes later, Kick found herself sat on Gwilym’s sofa, feet tucked underneath her, with a cup of tea in her hands. Gwilym sat down beside her.

“Thanks for dinner, Gwilym” Kick whispered. It all felt a lot more real once they were back at Gwilym’s house.

“It was my pleasure, Kick” He replied, laying an arm gently over her shoulders, sipping his tea.

“That was one of the nicest things anybody’s ever done for me” Kick said, placing her mug down on the coffee table.

“You deserve to be treated” Gwilym replied, doing the same and looking into her eyes. Kick placed her hand on Gwilym’s thigh as an invitation, and he crashed his lips to hers.

--

The following morning, Joe stepped out of his front door and stepped into the car waiting for him out front.

“Where to, Ambassador Mazzello?” the chauffeur asked, smiling at him politely.

“London City airport, please.” Joe said, returning the smile, before going to check his phone.

“Going anywhere nice, Ambassador?”

“Just visiting a friend in Scotland.” Friend. Was Elsie a friend? Well, no. But he couldn’t exactly tell his chauffeur that he was paying an unannounced visit to a woman who doesn’t like him but he felt drawn to in an unexplained way. That would make it sound like he intended to kill her.

He arrived at the airport and boarded his flight. It was a reasonably uneventful flight, he had at one point gotten talking to an older gentleman who recognised him. Putting his copy of the Financial Times down for a moment, the man had asked what was bringing Joe to Edinburgh. He gave the same response. That he was visiting a friend. The term friend certainly wasn’t the correct term for Elsie Stewart, but then neither was enemy. He’d work out what to call her eventually, for now ‘friend’ raised the least suspicions in from any angle.

On the car ride from Edinburgh to St Andrews, Joe found himself browsing bars and restaurants in the area. He could take her for a drink, just to talk… it wasn’t like he had an ulterior motive. Thanking the driver, he stepped out of the car. He took in the scenic campus for a moment before walking to the lecture theatre Elsie was speaking at, it was due to start reasonably soon.

Trying to keep a low profile, Joe took a seat towards the back of the theatre amongst the students and members of the public also in attendance. Elsie walked to the lectern and began to speak. Public speaking was something she had always excelled in, even in primary school. She was passionate and articulate, and Joe could see that. He might not have agreed with what she was saying but he found himself almost persuaded, just for a moment. About an hour passed with Elsie discussing political theory and social issues, in her peppy and yet occasionally sarcastic tone, Joe sometimes getting a little distracted by her accent and the way it wrapped around the words leaving her mouth.

“Any questions?” she said to the lecture theatre, scanning the faces that stared back, some with raised hands. She selected a student in the third row as he asked his question.

“What advice would you give for discussing politics with people who don’t agree with you?” the young man asked, Elsie continued scanning the room. Her eyes met Joe’s, he gave her a coy wave and she subtly raised an eyebrow in response.

“Great question,” she began to respond to to student, “When you cross paths with a person who opposes you it’s important you keep a level head, they’re certainly not going to take in anything you’re saying if they see you as a member of the ‘hysterical, intolerant left’. Also don’t be afraid to acknowledge the negatives in political systems you support, no political system is perfect after all.”

Elsie continued to answer questions for another 20 minutes before being urged to wrap things up by one of the political sciences professors. As the audience were filling out, Joe walked down the stairs to where Elsie was packing her notes back into her bag.

“Can I help you, Easy Street?” she didn’t even look up from her bag, Joe smiled slightly at the nickname.

“Nothing specifically, just thought I’d let you know how much I enjoyed your most recent piece.” he stepped closer towards her as she put her coat on. Elsie raised her eyebrows at him, slightly urging him to continue his point before starting to walk up the lecture theatre stairs to the door.

“I particularly enjoyed the way you implied that i bought my way to my position,” he started, following her up the stairs and out of the lecture theatre, “and said, and i quote ‘Staff Sergeant Mazzello and, by extension, the entire Mazzello family, unashamedly and grossly benefit from the very systemic injustices that they claim to oppose’... I’ve gotta to say Miss Stewart, you’ve really outdone yourself”

Elsie stopped walking and turned to face him, smirking slightly, “And you’ve committed it to memory? Easy Street, I’m impressed.”

“Well I do try.” he said with an air of cockiness. Elsie laughed a little, somewhat surprised that he was still attempting to charm her.

“Now, if you excuse me,” she said looking at her watch, “I have a train to catch.” she began to walk away but a warm hand grabbed her wrist, she turned to face Joe, she wasn’t going to shake him that easily. Not today.

“Are you going via Edinburgh? I’ve got a car waiting if you want a ride, maybe we could get a drink.”

Elsie rolled her eyes, was he really going to do the whole prince charming act? She thought for a moment… a drink did sound good, and she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t have questions for the ambassador.

“Alright then, just one drink.” Joe was taken aback slightly, thinking he might have had to try a little harder to convince her.

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - A BoRhap Politics AU

//Chapt 1

A/N: Arright gang? We wrote chapter two, as you can see. There are also a few little bonus extra bits that I may post at some point so ye B)... also if you haven’t already, go drop @rachelweiszs-areawoman a follow as this fic is both of our brain child (and she’s probably writing more than me sooo) Enjoy!!x

Word Count: 1915

Chapter 2

ROMANCE IN WESTMINSTER: SHAWCROSS AND HARDY RELIGHT OLD FLAME?

There are rumours afloat in Westminster after new MP Kathleen Shawcross and Chief Whip Ben Hardy were seen dining together. Miss Shawcross and Mr Hardy were part of Bristol University’s Labour Society during their time there and it is known that Mr Hardy was somewhat of a loose cannon at the time.

Kick laughed as Ben held the newspaper in front of her face. They’d guessed something would be said about their university days but they hadn’t thought it would come so soon.

“Fuck me, Ben” Kick sighed, still laughing.

“I tried back at uni, Kick. Fancy it now?” Ben replied

“No thanks mate, maybe another time?” Kick said as she sat down.

“Queen of the let-down. Don’t be treating Gwilym like that,” He joked, as he sat down opposite her.

“Gw-Gwilym? Why would I be letting Gwilym down? He’s my boss, Ben. Nothing more”

“If you say so, Kathleen.”

“What? Were you expecting me to jump him at the first opportunity because he’s hot and single?”

“Aha! So you do think he’s hot!” The blonde exclaimed.

“I never said he wasn’t,” the brunette replied, sighing deeply for the fourth or fifth time since the conversation began.

“Do you like him though?” Ben teased, loving the fact that this conversation was complete torture for his friend.

“I don’t know him well enough to make a judgement, anyway I thought you came here to do actual work rather than prod me into admitting whether or not I fancy my boss.” Kick replied, getting more and more frustrated by the second.

“Which you do.” Ben quickly added.

“Who I don’t know if I fancy yet or not.”

“You do.”

“Fuck off, Hardy!”

Next door, Gwilym caught snippets of the conversation happening between his junior minister and the party’s Chief Whip. He thought about the young woman sat at a desk infinitely older than her and realised he may be in the same boat. He was intrigued by her. There was something about her that he connected with, and she seemed to ‘get’ him from day one. He wondered if, after some time, he would fall in love with her. There was a distinct possibility, at least.

----

Joe glanced out the window of the foreign office, she was there again. Having climbed the Robert Clive memorial, she sat with the same placard she had with her on his first visit to parliament.

“I see Miss Stewart’s out protesting you again,” he commented to Gwil, sat behind his desk.

“When is she not? Which statue is it today?” the Foreign Secretary asked, not looking up from the work he was doing.

“That one over there,” Joe said pointing, “not sure which one it is.”

“That’ll be Robert Clive, a personal favourite of hers.” Gwil replied, still not looking up. The Ambassador’s interest in Elsie Stewart confused him, she was disruptive and self-righteous but Joe seemed almost enamoured by her.

“Does she actually sit out there for the whole 24 hours and not eat?” Joe asked. Gwil looked up, not sure why they were still on the subject of Elsbeth Stewart.

“Yes, sometimes longer, depends how much she resents my existence at a given time.” He stands up and walks to the window to stand next to Joe. He had a curious glint in his eye, Gwil for the life of him couldn’t understand why. Elsie was just some journalist, a journalist with communist-anarchist views at that.

“Didn’t she write that book, Anarchy For the UK: A Critique of British Political Tradition?” Joe asked, knowing perfectly well the answer to that question. He had read it cover to cover between his second and third visits that had coincided with her demonstrating in the area.

“Yes, that would be her. An… interesting read to say the very least.” Gwil said walking back to his desk.

Joe really enjoyed Elsie’s book. Of course, he would never admit that to Gwilym. He felt that the contempt Gwil held for the anarchist would throw a spanner into the workings of both their friendship and workplace relationship, should he admit to really enjoying her book.

After finishing at the Foreign Office, Joe took a walk around the surrounding parts of Westminster. Ever since he was young, he’d had an interest in the City of London. He spotted the Robert Clive statue, Elsie still chained to it. He didn’t know why exactly, but he smiled slightly before darting into a shop nearby.   Elsie yawned before looking at her watch. 18:23, 12 hours and 37 minutes left to go. She looked over the the city streets, the hustle and bustle of rush hour starting to wind down slightly. Her stomach rumbled and she ignored it. Elsie drew her legs up to her chest as the London evening chill blew over her.

“Hey,” an American voice grabbed her attention.

“Can I help you?” she asked in response. Scottish. He wasn’t expecting her to be Scottish.

“Hi, -uhh- I’m Joe. I brought you these,” he presented a coffee and a scarf to her, “It’s getting pretty cold out here and I’ve seen you out here a whi-”

“I know who you are,” she cut him off “Staff Sergeant Joseph Francis Mazzello III, US ambassador to the UK, ex-Marine and key donor and campaigner for President Obama. You missed out on being a congressman for New York by a margin of 2%. You’re a womanising, socialite, philanthropist. You have a net worth of approximately 4.5 billion US dollars. I do my research.”

Joe was somewhat taken aback by how much she new about him.

“And I don’t need your charity, Mazzello. I’m here to make a point, not for people to pity me,” she continued, “and Starbucks? Really?”

“Uhh - you’re right, I’m sorry.” Joe sat down on the steps next to the memorial. He looked around the mostly empty street. Sure, she was making a point during the day, but when there was no one to read her slogans and listen to her yell, would it really make a difference what she did?

Joe wasn’t the type to actively protest social issues. As much as he hated to admit it, his reaction tended to be to just throw money at the problem. There was something about Elsie, she hadn’t just wilted at his natural charm the way most women did, the way Kick had when he first met her. He was used to getting his way, Elsie immediately dismissing him was somewhat refreshing. There was a silent gap between them. Joe sipped on the rejected coffee and looked up at the red haired anarchist who had already begun to ignore him.

“I read your book,” Joe blurted out of nowhere.

“Oh, you’re still here?” she said in response, not even looking at him. Joe elected to let her comment slide.

“I really liked it, you have some really good insight into the failings of capitalism and how the party system eventually leads to no-one getting what they want.” Elsie looked down to him for the first time.

“You think so Mazzello?” Elsie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t expect a mild rejection of capitalism from some Wall Street arsehole”

“Well, I-”

“In fact, you’re not Wall Street. If I recall correctly, you were born into this. You’re not Wall Street, you’re straight up Easy Street.” Elsie was quite proud of that one. Joe chuckles slightly.

“I suppose… I best be going. See you around, Miss Stewart”

“Fuck off, Easy Street”

“I read your column too, by the way.” he called out as he walked away from the Robert Clive Memorial

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Easy Street. Pretending to be my biggest fan won’t get me off the back of the foreign sec.” she replied.

“Wait, you think this is about Gwilym Lee?”

“When someone who works with him approaches me, it normally is.” Elsie shrugged. Joe nodded to her before continuing to walk away, he was sure they’d cross paths again.

----

Kick smoothed her skirt as she walked into 10 Downing Street. She had been invited to a dinner for Foreign Office ministers, hosted by the Prime Minister Brian May and his wife Anita, a world-renowned human rights lawyer. Kick was relieved to find herself sat next to Anita, some female company in a large crowd of men. The group chatted away happily, avoiding the subject of politics for some well-needed rest. Kick and Anita found themselves making polite conversation.

“Why is your nickname Kick?” the older woman asked.

“I kicked Ben Hardy, the Chief Whip, in the balls at our university freshers after he tried to get off with a friend of mine who was in a relationship. He’s called me Kick ever since” the younger replied, making Anita burst out laughing.

“You went to university with Ben?”

“Yes, both attended Bristol. I’m the one that got away - only girl in the Labour society he didn’t sleep with” Kick replied, smiling over at Gwilym. He laughed along with everybody else, secretly relieved she and Ben didn’t have that kind of a past together. Ever since he’d heard Kick and Ben talking about him in her office, he’d become fonder and fonder of the young MP.

All the while, Anita watched Gwilym and Kick, and noted how they looked at each other when the other wasn’t looking. She saw the deep affection between them, and wondered whether anything was happening. She didn’t like to get involved, she was only the Prime Minister’s wife after all, but she wouldn’t have been disappointed to see the pair of them together for a very long time.

Kick stepped out of No. 10 and into the freezing cold rain of a London night. As she pulled her coat further around her, she heard footsteps catching up to her, and an umbrella over her head.

“How’re you getting home, Kick?” Gwilym asked as he huddled under the brolly with her.

“I was going to get the tube. Why?”

“I’m hailing a cab, my place is on the way to yours so why don’t you carry on after he’s dropped me off? You can claim the fare on parliamentary expenses” Gwilym said, smiling hopefully at her. She nodded and followed him through security and onto Whitehall. They jumped into a cab and laughed at their bedraggled state as they sped off into the London night.

While in the cab, Kick found herself feeling safe and comfortable in Gwil’s presence. The pair made polite conversation, but it was never boring. They reached Gwilym’s house in no time. He lived fairly central so he could pull long nights at the office and be home quickly but both of them wished the journey could have lasted just a little longer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kick” he said quietly, as the cab pulled up outside his front door.

“See you in the morning, Gwilym” she replied, smiling brightly as he shut the door and the cab sped away. As they made their way to Bethnal Green, and Kick’s flat, she thought about Gwilym. She wondered what he’d be thinking as he hung his coat up and put his shoes away, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. She hoped he’d be thinking of her, because as she hung her coat up and left her shoes at the front door, throwing off her jacket and taking off her tights, she was thinking of him.

//Chapt 3

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - Masterlist

A BoRhap Politics AU by @how-manygalileos and @rachelweiszs-areawoman

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Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

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Extra Bits

Picture of the Week #1

Kick’s Playlist

Elsie’s Playlist

Martha’s Playlist

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