We are all fools in love (Queen One-shot for LOC event)
Pairing: Roger Taylor x fem! Reader
Word Count: 2115
Summary: Roger Taylor’s your best friend...but looks like the band may need to give you a little push and you both need to admit the truth. Some good ol’ Friends to Lovers.
A/N: Hello @39-ers! Here I am- your Secret Santa revealed!!Here is my gift to you for @dtfrogertaylor Level of Concern Event! It was fun to write and it was wonderful to get to know you- I hope you enjoy it!!! Also shout out to my beta @spicyspideyme! for your quick eye and generous input!!
cw: swearing, smoking, bits and hints about sex (but no actual smut), and mentions of fictional violence. Freddie being the matchmaker like he always is in my fics. Matchmake me plz Freddie
“We’re gonna hold hands, but we aren’t together together!” Roger insisted as you walked through the park.
“How come?” you asked.
The autumn breeze chilled you a bit. A couple leaves fell right before your feet. Stepping on them, there was a satisfying crunch that made you smile. A few park workers were taking away the pumpkins for Halloween festivities and replacing them with banners promoting bonfires for November.
“Because I just don’t want you to get lost! This is a bloody huge city! And the crowds are big!” Roger explained, he waved his arms around the place.
The band and you had hit the dry hours. Other than a few workers, you barely saw a soul.
“I think you forgot…I live in this city. Same as you!” you retorted.
Roger shrugged, scratching the back of his head.
“I just want you to be safe!” he cried.
“Well if it makes you feel like I will be safe, I’ll do it” you said.
Pouting slightly, you accepted his large, smooth hand and continued your walk.
Though the other three just keep laughing in the back at you two making little fusses just like that, eyeing each other at the odd comment and mouths tight shut to keep themselves from laughing.
“It’s like they’re married already,” Brian observed, tightening his red scarf.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but…something has got to got to happen…” John commented.
Freddie waited until you and Roger were far enough away and then turned to the others.
“I’m sick of it! And they are sick of it too! You see it- of all of the sweet glances when the other one isn’t looking! And I’m so fucking sick of hearing Roger keep talking until the cows come home about “how bloody lovely y/n is,” or “y/n did this and it’s amazing! No one’s as smart as y/n!’” he added, lifting his voice up a few pitches to mimic Roger’s.
“Are you lost or what!?” you called behind, looking at the three.
Without another word, Fred led the way quietly for the rest of the walk. But his mind was restless.
Roger insisted on visiting the vintage shop with you by his side the next day. Not that much had changed in a day, you said. He refused to hear of it.
Opening the door, you were greeted by a retail worker who pointed you to the rack of sale items. There was the smell of old leather and furs already deep in your nose as you noticed a coat from at least the forties.
This is Perfect.
You perused prices, ranging from the extreme to the frugal.
But Fred, knowing you both visited regularly, came in. He stayed away, half hiding behind some blue dresses at least a decade old.
“Doing anything Sunday, Rog?” you asked.
“I’ve got nothing on Sunday, Sundays are always boring!” he complained.
He stared in shocked awe at a garish orange blouse with ruffles on it before moving to the next item.
“Rog, I think Sundays are nice! They’re quiet, peaceful…”
“Ha! You think! It’s too bloody quiet and only the church is open,” he interjected.
Turning your head, you folded your arms crossly.
“Sunday’s are nice, Rog!”
One certain outfit caught your eye when you noticed the mannequin, but checking the price tag you shook your head and let out a small sigh.
“Wanna bet!?” Roger said, offering a hand to you with a smile.
Fred stifled a laughter following the ridiculous little bout. He even bent his legs to hide deeper behind the fifties dresses with starched, crinoline skirts.
“No, no need to bet. There are horror movies that come on Sunday night, I’ll show you! You know how much I love horror movies!” you begged.
Roger’s eyes lit up and he blinked. Then his smile returned rather than his immature pout.
“Really, what channel?”
“Rog, you really have to know. Do you really just go to bars and clubs on Sundays? Just get drunk?”
‘Well, at least they aren’t boring, Y/N!” he argued.
Rolling your eyes, you walked over to where there were pants for women. But you couldn’t help but smile. Roger was an intelligent man. He was just an intelligent man with the instincts of a child sometimes. Secretly it always charmed you.
“Whatever just come over. And don’t get drunk. Not yet,” you said.
Freddie had a deep smile on his lips. He stayed hiding in the shop until you both left. He looked right at the outfit you were eyeing.
On Sunday afternoon, there is a red blouse and the nicest pair of pants you had ever seen on your bed, laid out, fresh from the vintage shop.
Your jaw dropped and you held back a small scream at the sight. The shirt you found was a blouse: smooth as silk. The pants fitted you perfectly: lighter colored with a subtle pattern.Walking in front of the mirror, you looked nicer than you ever had before.
Next to where your clothes had been was on a small piece of paper with typewriting on it:
“Thought you’d like it! Please wear tonight! MY gift! XXXX- Rog”
“Well…it’s not too girly and it’s not racy at all…but I better put on a jacket to make it safe.”
Biting your lip, you looked at it in the mirror, examining every inch.
But no. Roger could not have meant it. Not for you at least. You knew there had to be some girl. He would buying lingerie for her. There were always crowds of women after him at parties. He was always calling women up and talking to them.
“There’s just some chick he’s crazy about and he isn’t telling me because he doesn’t want to make it weird…or maybe he’s really into Fred or John or something.”
The thought always made you sad.
“Still, wouldn’t hurt to doll up though, especially if he asked for it…” you thought, feeling that brief glimmer of hope in your belly.
As Roger sat in his home, reading while smoking his cigarette like a meditation, there was a sudden knock on the door.
“I’m back already!” Fred announced, slightly muffled from the door blocking the way.
When he walked over, Roger could barely breathe a hello when Fred leaned over closely, taking in a large whiff.
“Oh! You’re smoking! I’m dying for one myself- let’s go out!” he announced, his ringer hand grabbing Roger’s arm.
“It’s fine in here, why?”
Freddie flashed his full smile and waved away the apartment entrance. Though at the force Roger was being pulled out it was as if he didn’t have a choice
“Well, darling, you don’t need the landlord on your neck for any reason: and it’s lovely tonight! Moon and stars and all that!” he declared.
They wandered out, talking about everything in between blowing out grey smoke. Though Freddie was changing subjects fast and talking a mile a minute, even for Roger’s standards. But he kept up.
Until he heard her. Y/N’s footsteps and their certain rhythm.
You saw your friends on the side of the block, right outside the flat complex. Finally, you walked up in a light coat, a little odd from the feeling of the outfit.
Oh God, I’ve known both of them for years…why am I suddenly feeling so odd? I look…I must look like a groupie to them, not myself.
“Oh, Y/N! How are you, dear?” Freddie greeted, waving his arms up.
Waving back, you gave him a small hug. Right as you greeted Roger, you heard Freddie ring out from behind you.
“Have to head out! I’ve got to meet someone for a drink- a sudden date, you would say! Farewell, loves! I’ll return later, Rog!”
He was practically waltzing away from the two of you. There was a pause. The breeze picked up and you held your coat tighter for warmth.
“S’bloody cold, Y/N, let’s go in,” Roger offered.
He walked into the complex to where his door was. As he took out his key to the door, you began to talk, albeit shyer than usual.
“By the way, thank you for the gift.”
Roger turned to you, head tilted and squinting.
“Huh? What gift?” he asked.
As his key went in, he noticed it was already unlocked. Barely shrugging it off, he opened the door.
It was filled with candles and roses.
You both gasped, a little shocked and smiling. Though your insides felt like butter. There was distant patter of footsteps a few feet away, like a small stampede of horses. But when you glanced out to the other doors there was no one.
“Roger, it…it looks beautiful!” you praised.
“Why it…it does, but Y/N…I didn’t do it,” he confessed.
He looked down and scratched his head. His cheeks were the color of the rose petals.
“What, really?” you asked.
As you took off your jacket casually to hang it up in the coat closet, Roger kept staring at your outfit. Now his whole face matched the roses.
“That’s…pretty weird. But…nice of them. The boys, I mean.”
“I just got this outfit with a card saying it was from you,” you recalled.
Roger huffed and scuttled over to the chairs and turned the knob on his tv set. He continually checked his watch to be safe for the time.
“Anyway, uh, films on, let’s…let’s watch it!” he blubbered.
And the mysterious gifts and their origin were left ignored.
Roger folded his arms and tried his best to stare at the movie best he could, biting back almost a laugh or even a smile.
But as the killer in the movie was revealed, stabbing his screaming victims, you felt Roger’s eyes continually wander to you. First in flutters. Then in glances. Then in staring. You knew because everything you looked up briefly at him, his yellow head turned away.
Both of you sat still. Neither one asked the other for a drink or a snack or anything as the movie went on.
“You do look, really…really nice Y/N,” he complimented.
Your head flipped over. The breath in you stopped and you felt it suddenly flush back in, going a little dizzy.
“I mean, you’ve always looked nice and I swear, I never really…you just look especially nice tonight!” he clarified.
Smiling, you mumbled a thank you, while looking down at your lap.
As the movie went on, you both relaxed a little more. Your shoulders dipped down. A natural grin let up your face. You saw one on Roger as well.
Roger’s hand moved closer. Inch by inch. Then you felt it over yours.
Sweating, you accepted it. Although now the sudden threat of a masked serial killer that lurked in the night was nothing compared to your reality.
You scooted closer to Roger. He scooted closer in kind.He looked into your eyes. You looked in his.
“Roger…I…just…I just…” you blubbered, words running out before you could stop them.
“What is it?” he asked.
Now they dashed out as quick as the breaking of a dam.
“I’ve always liked you but…liked liked you- oh god, I must sound like a kid.”
“You don’t, you…you actually make perfect sense!” Roger answered, he began to chew his lower lip.
“What d’you mean?”
“I…I’ve loved you! It sounds ridiculous coming out of me- I am not a sap! I swear! I hate sappy things! But, but-but I’ve always wanted to just scream it from the top of some hill- I love you!” he confessed.
He put a hand against your face, gently caressing it. You leaned in closer to it, almost shivering from the sensation. Softly, Roger leaned forward too.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” he cursed right before tilting his head and kissed you.
It was wet and you could taste the chicken he ate and the strong tobacco from the smoking. He was so close, and so warm, with the smell of sweat and shampoo. You felt your hands go over his arm, pulling him closer.
You pulled away, and then you went in for another kiss, to make sure it was all real. His hands went to your back and pressed you against him closer. You were one mind and flesh for only a few seconds. Both of you pulled away briefly. There were a few soft chuckles released with a puff of released breath. He then pressed a forehead to yours. Your eyes closed for a second, feeling it, taking it all in. The two of you were breathing in unison, feeling that space between you that was desperate to be filled back again, to finally disappear.
Meanwhile outside, Freddie only leaned against a stoplight, barely looking at the window of the place. Brian and John stood by him, with their hands in their pockets. Seeing the light go out in Roger’s place, they all knew their job was done and they left to celebrate.
summary || it’s halloween, and, while everyone else has plans, you’re at home, alone, life overwhelming you. there’s only one person who you think to call.
rating || G. so much fluff, and a touch of angst, too. some mutual pining.
word count || 3.2k
author’s notes || and here is my halloqueen submission, just in the nick of time! this is my gift for @celestialmay - i hope you like it! lots of love from 🦇
masterlist
The phone ringing in your ear was deafening, but you held it tightly in your trembling hand anyway. Your chest was tight, each heave of breath in and out like nails down a chalkboard, and everything around you felt both too loud and entirely muffled at the same time.
Pick up. Please.
You could hear kids outside, trick-or-treating. Their squeals of excitement, their boisterous giggling. You could hear the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. The grumble of a car passing down the street.
Still the phone rang.
You picked at a fraying thread on your jeans, fiddling with it like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. It was. As well as the hope that your call would be answered.
The call rang out. An automated voicemail message played in your ear.
Your phone fell into your lap, and you took a shuddering breath, feeling your heart bleeding into your chest.
It was just you and the fraying thread now, you supposed.
Your face felt hot from the burn of tears. It was hard to tell when you stopped crying and when you started up again.
Of course he hadn’t picked up. Why would he have? He had that Halloween party on tonight. He was probably getting ready, maybe, or already pre-gaming. He might not have even had his phone on him. Maybe he just didn’t want to pick up.
You sighed, and pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, watching the swirling constellations of colour dance behind your eyelids.
There was no one in the apartment but you. Your roommates all had things to do, places to be. You couldn’t blame them. You didn’t know if you would’ve asked for their comfort, anyway.
Your ribs closed tighter around your lungs, and you shrunk in on yourself to try to alleviate the pain.
Then – a buzz. Your phone was ringing.
You took a moment to muster the strength to lower your hands from your eyes, but when you saw it was him – who else would it be? – you answered immediately.
You sniffed, and cleared your throat. “Hi.”
“[Y/N],” he said. “Hi, what’s– Is everything okay?” You could hear music in the background, and the hum of other voices.
How the hell did you respond? “Um,” you said, your voice pitched high.
“What’s going on?” he said immediately. “Just – sorry, hang on a tick.”
You heard him say something to his friends, and, a few seconds later, after the sound of a door closing, there was no background noise at all. “Sorry, just went somewhere quiet. What’s the matter, what’s happened?”
You shouldn’t have called him, you knew that. It wasn’t a reasonable thing to do. He was your friend, yes, but you weren’t that close. And everyone knew – but him – that you had feelings for him.
But as if you could have possibly called anyone else in that moment.
“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t…” You sniffed, and wiped your nose on the back of your hand. Yuck. “I don’t know. I just panicked, and I…”
“It’s all right,” he said, and his voice was so warm and soothing and everything you wanted to hear. “You don’t have to apologise, it’s okay. Do you have someone with you?”
“No. My roommates are all out.”
“Right.” You heard a door open and close. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know,” you said, and, honestly, you didn’t. “I was fine all day, and then I just – I don’t know. My brain started going a hundred miles an hour, and I was thinking about everything, just my life and the future and all that scary stuff, and I – I freaked out, I started crying, I couldn’t stop.”
The background noise was coming back, and your heart sank to your knees.
“It’s dumb,” you said quickly. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll– I’ll let you get back to the party.”
“No, no,” he said in a rush. “No, sorry, just…”
He spoke to someone else again, and it took a good thirty seconds for him to return to the call. “Sorry,” he said. “One second, I’m sorry.”
The sound of a door opening and closing. Silence once more.
“Right, I’m back,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m listening, I promise.”
“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m sorry to drag you away from everyone.”
“Hey,” he said, and it was so gentle you almost started crying again, “don’t apologise, okay?”
Wait – a fresh burn on your cheeks. You had started crying again, after all.
“I’m sorry,” you managed to squeeze out, your voice thick. “I just didn’t know who else to call.”
“I’m glad you called me,” he said. “You’re my friend, and I care about you. I’m glad you called anyone, but I’m especially glad you called me.”
You sucked in a sharp, painful breath, and said nothing. You had nothing else to say.
“Is there anything in particular that made you upset, or is it just everything in general?” he asked.
“Everything,” you said. “I’m just… overwhelmed. And it’s so dumb because everyone else is going through the same thing as I am, like, college and jobs and all that, and I feel so ridiculous not being able to handle it.”
“You’re not ridiculous,” he said. “Trust me, there’s not a single person on this planet who can handle everything they’re going through at any given time. Life is overwhelming. That doesn’t invalidate anything you’re saying or how you’re feeling, but, honestly, literally everyone is on the verge of a breakdown at all times.”
You fiddled with the frayed thread. It did make you feel a bit better, though, what he was saying.
“You’re not alone,” he continued. “Yeah? Not alone. I’m always here to talk to, or your roommates, or your parents, your friends. We’re all here to support you. And it wouldn’t matter if you were going through half of what you’re going through – everyone has different limits on what they can deal with at one time, and there’s no shame if your limit is lower than what you think it is for other people.”
“Yeah,” you mumbled, just to let him know you were still there, if anything.
“People’s brains work differently. You can’t change how you’re wired. And that’s okay.”
You’d stopped crying, and the weight of your exhaustion was starting to settle in on your shoulders.
“You’ll make it,” he added, with such a firm sense of confidence that it almost made you smile. “It doesn’t matter where you end up in life. Doesn’t matter what you end up doing. Your life will play out as it plays out, and I know it’ll be great. Because it’s you.”
You did smile then, and you made a small sound of acknowledgement.
“Hey, which number are you?”
You frowned a little. “Huh?”
“I’m outside your flat. Which number are you, so I can press the buzzer?”
It was like someone put a Mentos into a bottle of pop and then shoved it into your heart. “What? How?”
“The party just at the end of your street; I walked here. Can I come up?”
“Um, yeah, yes. I’m number 105.”
The buzzer went off a second later, and you scrambled up on wobbly legs to let him in.
“Cheers,” he said.
“What are you even doing here?”
“I told you, I was just down the street.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to come.”
“Of course I did. You said you were alone.”
Your throat squeezed shut, and you swallowed heavily. “You didn’t have to,” you said quietly.
“Do you not want me there? I can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”
You hurried to the bathroom to check your face. You’d clearly been crying, but you didn’t look disastrous. Well, any more than usual. “No, no, it’s… I’m all right.”
“I’m almost there,” he said. “Number 102, 103… 105.”
A knock on the door.
You went to open it.
There he was, in all of his six-foot-two, curly-haired glory. He still held the phone to his ear, and he was dressed in black slacks and a frilly white shirt. He had a fake dribble of blood running from his lip, and he wore a cape around his neck.
You giggled, and lowered your phone, hanging up. “A vampire?”
He grinned. He didn’t have fake fangs in, but his canines were pointy enough that they almost looked like real fangs. “Yep.”
You let him inside, and when you closed the door behind you, he swept you up in a hug.
You clutched onto him, breathing in his smell – he was wearing his nice cologne – feeling every ridge and sharp edge of his slender frame. He was so lanky that you could really wrap your arms around him, and you felt like you could almost pick him up.
God, you liked him so much. And here he was, hugging you, despite the fact that you looked like a mess. Despite the fact that your problems dragged him away from his party, he was hugging you.
“I’m sorry you feel like this,” he mumbled.
“Mm,” you said noncommittally.
When you finally broke the hug, he sighed, rubbing your arm soothingly. “Cup of tea?”
You chuckled. “You don’t have to.”
“Sure I do. Cup of tea fixes everything. Go sit down, I’ll bring it to you.”
You didn’t go sit down – you followed him to the kitchen, and sat on the bench, helping direct him as he put the kettle on and fetched some mugs and teabags.
Just him being here was enough for you to forget your worries. It was all painfully domestic – you could almost picture this as the norm, after waking up in bed with his arms wrapped around you. Maybe he’d be in his pyjamas. Maybe his boxers and nothing else.
He more than likely wouldn’t be wearing a vampire cape and a frilly white shirt. But tonight was Halloween, and they suited him, in a funny way, so you weren’t complaining.
The sleeves of you jumper had been pushed up to your elbows – you tugged them down over your hands, pushed your hands under your thighs, keeping your fingers warm. Your feet swung idly.
It was the first time he’d been to your house, you realised. He already seemed at home here.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, handing you your cup of tea. “Or would you rather talk about something else to get your mind off it?”
You curled your sweater paws around the mug, blowing on the tea. “I dunno,” you said. “I’m just really tired now.”
“Do you have Netflix?”
You nodded.
“Do you want to watch something, maybe?” His hazel eyes studied your face carefully.
You nodded again, giving him half a shrug.
The two of you sat on the couch, side by side, a respectable distance away from each other. His cape was folded on the floor beside the couch, and he’d rubbed off the fake blood on his face with the back of his hand, staining it and his chin and jaw pink.
You didn’t want to be a respectable distance away from each other. You wanted to be pressed against his side.
But you were just friends, and not even that close friends. So you stayed where you were.
You insisted that he put on whatever show he wanted. You didn’t mind, as long as it wasn’t something too heavy. He was hesitant, but you could see the way his eyes lit up when he spotted Our Planet, so you told him that that was what you wanted to watch.
You didn’t really watch it, though. He had half an eye on it, but you mostly just chatted.
The pendulum was starting to swing the wrong way again. You’d been so happy to see him, but now you began to realise why calling him had been such a terrible idea: being this near without being able to touch him, to pull him close, was excruciating.
He caught onto your sinking mood soon enough. He gently tried to pry you open, to ask what was wrong, but you kept your lips sealed tight. It was more than generous of him to spend his Halloween evening sitting here with you, as despondent as you were – you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, too.
He watched you carefully. You refused to look at him.
So he told you a story. A story about him and one of his friends. He loved this friend, he added hastily, but they fought a lot. Perhaps too much. But, regardless, they did seem to leave each other.
They’d been fighting one night, at the dwindling tail-end of a party, both fuelled by alcohol, and it had almost come to blows. They had been hurricanes of unfiltered rage, screaming like they’d never screamed before. Most people had left the room, knowing that trying to calm either of them down would have been a fruitless exercise.
And then a third friend had walked into the room to see what the fuss was about. He had been dressed in nothing but his underwear and a pair of socks, despite the fact that it was winter, and was eating a bowl of cereal.
The fight had ended abruptly – so abruptly that it was as if everyone had suddenly dropped dead. They hadn’t dropped dead, but their jaws had hit the floor in shock, bewildered by the bizarre sight in front of them.
The third friend had asked what the hollering was all about.
And then the tension had snapped like a broken guitar string, and everyone had been beside themselves in a laughing fit.
You couldn’t help but laugh yourself as he told the story, painting the scene like an artist paints a picture.
Your tea, half-finished, grew cold on the coffee table. A whale breached on the TV. You couldn’t have cared less about any of it. All you cared about was him, and the movement of his hands, the flutter of his eyelashes as he double-checked his memory for details, the shift of his dark brown curls as he moved his head.
“What were you arguing about?” you asked him.
He went very still, and suddenly the breaching whales were very interesting. “Uh,” he said, “it…”
“Sorry,” you said, your ribs closing in on each other again. “You don’t have to tell me.”
He brushed his long fingers along his protruding bottom lip, and you could see the gears turning in his head.
He looked back to you, but only for a moment, before his gaze moved to his lap, his eyelashes brushing his high cheekbones. “Um.” He took a deep breath. “He was… I got really mad at him because he was– There’s this… person… that I like, and he was threatening to tell them that I liked them, because he was saying that I was a wuss and I was taking too long, and I got defensive, and it just sort of escalated.”
You twirled the frayed thread of your jeans around your finger. “Oh,” you said, and you knew immediately that with just one word, you’d given away your thoughts. It was like hearing a singer miss a note, jarring and painfully obvious.
“I didn’t think that this person could possibly like me back,” he continued. “We’re friends, but we’re not really that close.”
Your finger froze, the frayed thread wrapped around it.
You expected him to go on, but he didn’t.
You dared to glance at his face. He was watching the TV again, a shimmering school of fish.
The two of you sat in silence for what felt like half an hour, but was only a minute, if that. Him, watching the TV; you, watching him.
Your mind was loud, so loud. Three thousand questions scrabbling over each other like starving rats in a cage. The main one was the loudest: was it you? Did he mean you?
You couldn’t answer. You didn’t dare ask.
But you couldn’t stay silent for any longer. “Maybe you should tell them,” you said, and turned to watch the TV.
You could feel his eyes on your face now. “I don’t think I should,” he said.
“Why not?”
“They’re in a bit of an emotionally vulnerable state right now, and I don’t want them to think that I’m just telling them that to make them feel better. Which I wouldn’t be, but their mind seems to be very good at convincing them of things like that. So I want to wait until it’s the right time.”
Your heart had grown three times its size. Surely it must have – there was no way a heart of average size could beat against your ribs so forcefully.
“And that’s all assuming they even like me back. Sometimes I’m sure they do, but other times I have no idea. They can be hard to read. But it’s one of the reasons I like them so much. They always seems to be brimming with so many… thoughts, but they rarely ever tell anyone what they are.”
You finally looked to him, meeting his gaze. “They’re about you,” you said, the word falling from your mouth. “They– A lot of the thoughts revolve around you. Too many of them.”
You could see his eyes darting between the two of yours, his lips parted ever so slightly.
“So maybe you should tell them,” you added. “In no uncertain terms. Just in case they… want to know. For sure. So when they think back on this conversation, their mind doesn’t convince them that they read everything so very wrong.”
He licked his lips. “I like you,” he said. “In no uncertain terms, I really, really like you.”
A child screamed outside. A car roared past.
You barely heard them.
“I like you too,” you said softly.
He nodded, a tiny movement of his head, and then you both broke out into huge, beaming smiles.
You giggled, ducking your gaze, sunshine blossoming within you. It was too much. You felt too much, and you wondered if it were possible to explode from it.
He shifted closer, reached over and tucked your hair behind your ear, and you lifted your head. He cupped your cheek, and maybe it was possible to explode, after all.
“Are you feeling all right?” he said gently.
You leant into his palm, your eyes sliding closed. You nodded, humming contentedly.
“Thanks to you.” You opened your eyes again.
He dropped his hand, but you caught it, lacing your fingers together. He inhaled, just a small breath between his lips that you only noticed because you were watching him so closely.
Without even thinking, you leant forward and kissed him. He kissed you back, just a gentle press of his lips against yours, and then it was over. The briefest kiss, but you felt alight.
You chuckled, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “Uh,” you said. Your thoughts were a blur, and, tried as you did to pluck enough words from the mess to form a coherent sentence, you were left all but entirely mute.
You caught his gaze again, and you were stunned to see that his cheeks were tinged pink. He quickly glanced away from you, clearing his throat, and you giggled.
“Shut up,” he mumbled, and you laughed again, giving his hand a squeeze.
He squeezed your hand back, tugging you closer, and you shuffled over until you were pressed against his side, his arm around your waist. Instead of the frayed thread on your jeans, you fiddled with the frills of his white shirt.
A bird soared on the TV. Your cup of tea must have been stone cold by now. The sound of kids outside had dissipated, for the most part.
You and Brian stayed curled up together on the couch for hours.
Merry Christmas, Darling (Brian May x Reader Oneshot)
Warnings: Some smut, nothing serious though. Mainly just loads of fluff!
A/N:This is part of @dtfrogertaylor ‘s Thank God It’s Christmas event for @hannafuckingsucks ! I’ve loved getting to know you, darling, and I hope you enjoy! Oh! And Merry Christmas!
You awoke to the phone at the side of your bed ringing; earning a groan from you as you rolled over, blindly feeling around the nightstand until you picked it up and placed it to your ear.
“Hello?” You mumbled.
“Happy Christmas, Sweetheart.” Brian said as he smiled into the phone, calling you from his bed as well. You could instantly tell it was him, his soothing voice being your main consolation over the last ten years of your life. Brian was your best friend, and there was nothing you’d ever do to change that.
“Brian, it’s nine in the morning. Can’t I sleep in?” You laughed with a yawn.
“Not when I want to be the first one to wish you a Happy Christmas.”
You jokingly groaned in disapproval, earning a laugh from him on the other end. “Well, Happy Christmas to you too, Bri.”
“You going later, Love?”
“To Freddie’s? Of course. Where else would I be?”
“With your family, perhaps?”
“Nah, it’d be hard for me to get home this time of year. Especially when they live across the country, and we just flew into London a couple of days ago. It’s hard work being best friends with the guitarist of Queen, you know.”
The boys had just finished the press tour to their new album News of the World, which of course you had joined them on. You didn’t actually do much of a job, but Brian labeled you his assistant just so you’d get paid to travel the world with them.
“Oh, jeez, Y/N, I’m so sorry. You know you don’t have to come with us every time, Love. I wouldn’t have minded if you left the press tour early to make it home to your family for the holidays. God, I feel awful.”
“It’s alright, Bri.”
“No it’s not, Love. Everyone else’s family is right around where we all live in London. I forget sometimes that you grew up across the country, since I met you here back in Uni all those years ago.”
“It’s okay, really. There’s no place I would rather of been. Really. I wanted to be with you.”
Your words made Brian blush as he fantasized of you having feelings for him as well. “Well I don’t want you to be left alone on Christmas morning. I’m about to get up and ready to go to my Mum and Dad’s house, I can swing by and pick you up if you’d like?”
“Oh, that’s alright. I’m really just looking to get some rest until dinner and the party at Freddie’s later. Even though it’s a more intimate party than he usually throws, you know it’s still going to go late in the morning, and I’m still awfully jet lagged, so I’m fine Bri. Really.”
“Can I at least pick you up to go to Fred’s later?”
“ ‘Course.”
“Alright, Love. See you later then.”
~~~~~~~
Just as you finished getting dressed into your sleek red Christmas gown after curling your hair and putting half of it up, and doing makeup to match your festive attire, you heard the doorbell ring.
“One minute!” You yelled, quickly slipping on your gold heels and putting your shawl around your shoulders as you ran to the for.
“Hi Bri!”
“M-my God, Y/N,” he said, taking your hand and spinning you around as he walked in the door. “You look absolutely breathtakingly stunning.”
“Well I think I could say the same thing to you. You clean up very nicely.” You smiled as you pulled at his suit. You’d liked him for months, but couldn’t get yourself to admit it to him. You were sure he didn’t feel the same way, sure that admitting your feelings would ruin your friendship, so instead you opted to keep to yourself.
“We’re running a little late, Love, so are you ready to go?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You smiled, grabbing the large bag of presents by the door.
“Oh I’ll take that, really Love. Too much work for someone in such a gorgeous dress.” He winked, taking the bag from your arms as he lead you out the door.
~~~~~~~~~
Freddie’s house was decorated to the nines. You and Brian had only made it in the foyer, yet you had already counted twelve Christmas trees. A server took yours and Brian’s presents and placed them under the largest tree at the center of the house where the presents were being organized by name for you all to go and find after dinner.
“Y/N! Darling!” Freddie exclaimed as he walked in from another room, scooping you up and spinning you around. “You look absolutely stunning!”
“I could say the same to you!” he had on an all red, metallic suit with gold beading concentrated on the shoulders that faded down the arms.
“And Brian!” He exclaimed, bringing his band mate in for a hug. “Don’t the two of you just make the perfect couple!”
“But we’re not-“ you started, only to be cut off.
“Oh I know, Darling. I’m just saying you LOOK like the perfect couple.” He winked at Brian as he walked away, Brian fuming with embarrassment and anger. The other three knew of his feelings for you, and were getting antsy that neither of you had admitted it to the other yet.
After everyone had arrived, you all sat down at the large dining table, where you were seated next to Brian, and began chatting about your lives.
“And what about you, Y/N? Anyone special in your life?” Roger asked.
“Oh no. No time for that, really. I think you four keep me busy enough.” You laughed.
“Fair enough. What about you, Brian?”
“Oh, uh, I- um. No. Nobody special.”
“You don’t sound too sure about that, mate.” John smirked.
“You sure you’re not into someone you’re currently very close to...physically?” Freddie teased.
“Shut your mouths, all of you.” He said, rolling his eyes as his three bandmates snickered across the table from the two of you.
“What was that all about?” you asked Brian.
“Oh nothing. Nothing at all.”
~~~~~~~~~~
After dinner, the bar in the room with all of the presents was opened as a DJ in the back of the room played the perfect blend of Christmas music and trendy music from the radio. You and the boys laughed as you sat and drank together on the couch, and after a while you and Deaky got up to go dance.
With both of you entirely tired out, John decided to go back to his drink with the boys, yet you were empty, so decided to go to the bar to find something else, telling him you’d catch up with them in a moment.
As soon as John sat down, Brian was already prying him for information.
“So? Did she say anything about me?”
“Nope.”
“John, you were dancing with her for like fifteen minutes. She must have said something.”
“No really, mate. We just talked about my baby, the upcoming tour, you know, stuff friends talk about.”
Brian sighed in defeat.
“Bri, if you’re this helpless, I’m sorry, but it’s time to grow a pair, suck it up, and ask her out.” Roger teased.
“I know I know, I just… I don’t want to ruin everything and lose her.”
“You won’t.” Roger said.
“Yeah, it’s obvious she likes you too.” John added.
“Really?”
“Really.” The three said in unison.
“What’d you get her?” Freddie asked.
“A heart shaped diamond encrusted ruby necklace. Got it here in my suit,” he said, pressing his hand to the inside pocket of his suit coat. “Didn’t want to risk someone stealing it. And besides, I want to give it to her myself.”
The other three nodded understandingly. “You should tell her how you feel when you give it to her. You should do it before we all get into gifts too.” Freddie said.
“But Fred, that only gives me fifteen minutes. You said we were doing gifts at 10:00!”
“Exactly, Darling. You need a little nudge to get you to admit your feelings. This is your nudge.”
As Brian noticed you happily walked back over to the four of them, he shushed the other three ad you retook your spot next to Brian.
“Why are we all just not speaking to eachother?” You laughed.
“Oh no reason.” Roger blurted out, the four of them looking between eachother, eventually staring at Brian as if to tell him something through their eyes, which left you completely confused.
“Okay then?”
“Hey, Y/N?” Brian nervously stated. “I uh, I got you something special and wanted to give it to you myself, uh alone if you don’t mind?”
“Oh that’d be wonderful.” You smiled, taking his hand as you stood up.
“Brian, wait!” Freddie said as he grabbed his friends shoulder and whispered in his ear: “Go to the formal living area at the back of the house. There’s a beautiful tree there, and the fireplace is lit, and no one will be there.”
Brian nodded understandably as he lead you away from the party.
“What was that about?”
“Oh nothing. Just telling me where to go is all.”
As the two of you stepped into the all red decorated room, Brian locked the door behind the two of you as you marveled at the beauty of the room.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous. Freddie really knows how to decorate, doesn't he?” You said as you sat on the couch that was angled toward the Christmas tree with the fireplace to your left.
“Uh, yeah.” Brian said pacing.
“Brian, come sit down.” You said, patting the couch next to you. “Whatever you got me I know I’ll love.”
He sat next to you as he let out a huge breath of air.
“What’s up with you? I’ve never seen you so nervous?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” he reassured. He took out the small box from his coat, placing it in your hands. “Now, I actually helped design this, so I’m really hoping you like it.” He smiled as his hand rested on yours.
You removed the wrapping paper to find a gorgeous, large, heart shaped ruby and diamond necklace. You gasped in shock, tears flooding to your eyes.
“What’s wrong? Do you like it?” He said, worried.
“Oh I love it! Thank you!” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Then why are you crying?” He said as he pulled you into a tight embrace.
“Because no one has ever done something this nice for me in my entire life.” You said, looking at him as he brushed away a tear. “Can you put it on me?”
“Of course, Love.” He smiled as you turned away from him so he could put it on you. “There’s one more thing.”
“Not something else! This is already too much!” You said, turning back to him as he finished putting your necklace on. He took your hands in his, as he stared into your eyes.
“No, this is just something I’ve gotta get off my chest. I, uh, I don’t really know how to tell you this. I mean, you’re my best friend, you know that. And I can’t imagine my life without you. That’s why I’m so nervous right now. But for the last couple of years now I’ve been absolutely crazy about you. I’m in love with you, Y/N, and I haven’t been able to tell you until now.” His hands were shaking from how nervous he was.
“You are?” you smiled.
“Oh god, I’m sorry I even said anything.” He said, pulling his hands away from yours and he turned to look at the fire.
“No, no, Brian, Brian. Look at me,” you said, grabbing his face in your hands. “Hey, open your eyes and look at me.” You laughed as he blinked them open, and you noticed the tears welling in the bottom of them. “I’m in love with you too.” You whispered behind your tears of happiness.
“You are?” he smiled.
“Yeah. I have been for a while now too. Just couldn’t get myself to say anything.” You admitted.
“Really?”
“Really. I’m in love with you, Brian Harold May.”
“God, am I in love with you too.” He smiled as he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss immediately passionate. Your lips molded together perfectly as his hands roamed your body, yours toying with his hair.
After awhile he layed you down on the sofa as he hovered over you, trailing kisses from your mouth down your neck as his hand slipped in your dress as it squeezed your breast, fingers toying with your nipple. You let out a moan, reconnecting your lips with his as he sat you up to try to unzip your dress, yet after a minute or two of his hands roaming your body, he groaned in frustration.
“Why can’t I figure out how to take this fucking dress off?”
You laughed at his annoyance.
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s kinda funny.” You smiled, tapping his nose.
“Well? Why can’t I?”
“Because there’s no zipper, silly. It laces from the inside. It’ll take me at least twenty minutes to get off, and once it’s off, there’s no way I’m putting it back on tonight, so this might have to wait a couple hours.” You laughed.
“Fine,” he groaned in annoyance, “but if you’re making me wait for something I’ve been waiting for over the last ten years, you’ve at least got to come home with me tonight.”
“Well I thought you’d never ask.” You smirked, hooking your finger around his tie as you pulled him in for a chaste kiss on your lips. “And hey, don’t think I haven’t been waiting for this for a while either.”
~~~~~~~~~~
You and Brian quickly composed yourselves, rejoining the party hand in hand, to which the boys sprung up from their seats in applause.
“Finally!” Roger exclaimed.
“Told you, mate.” John smiled, patting Brian on the shoulder.
“So…” Freddie smiled. “Is it official?”
You looked at Brian as he looked down at you, placing his arm around you as he pulled you in close to his side.
“It’s official.” The two of you said in unison as he pressed a kiss from your lips, causing the boys to hoot and holler in congratulations.
As a love song played in the room, Brian lead you to the floor as he placed his arms around your waist, and you placed yours around his neck, lovingly laying your head on his shoulder as the two of you swayed to the music.
“Thank you, Brian.” You smiled up at him.
“Oh anything for you, Y/N. I was hoping you’d like it.”
“Not for the necklace, silly. Well, for that too, but I meant for admitting your feelings for me. I’ve never been happier in my life.” You smiled.
“Neither have I. Thank you for saying yes.” He smiled, making you giggle. “Happy Christmas, My Love.”
“Happy Christmas” You smiled as he reconnected his lips to yours, making this officially the best Christmas you’d ever had.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Please excuse any typos and such! -C
Actually me and the gift receivers made an accord about posting their gifts, i'll post one today and the other on the 28th (thank you).
So @ogrebattles i'm your secret santa! Surprise ❤
Thanks @dtfrogertaylor for organizing it! ❤
.......
Now down to business, i'm sorry if it feels rushed, i had a bad case of writers block & stress so...but i made my best 😅
John x reader - enemies to lovers - soulmates
......
He hated her, like it was second nature to him, for no particular reason it seemed. She was way too sarcastic, hot-headed and stubborn but there was always something that drawn him to her and he had no explanation to this, yet.
On the other hand, she didn’t really hate him maybe, but when he would start mocking her out of the blue, she had to respond in the worst way possible. She found him childish, full of himself even if he was very good at what he did, he was infuriating but, she didn't hate him, strange right?
What they didn’t know was that they were both soulmates and destiny had just started messing up with them.
This was unusual on every level in soulmates history: two souls destined together that actually hated each other for some reason.
All they did was actually arguing, on everything; it could start as a simple chat but seconds later they would start to attack each other like it was inevitable, and it was getting worse.
-Listen can we stop...this? - she said one day all of sudden.
-Why? Scared I could finally hurt your precious feelings?- he answered without even looking.
-..I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.- she retorted - I just don’t see the point, can we try to be civil? maybe?-
-And where’s the fun in that? C’mon, can't you just admit you’re scared?..it would stay between us- his sarcastic tone way more evident.
-I was just showing you some mercy, you idiot! Fine, whatever...continue to behave like a child, it suits you well.- and with that, she stormed off out of his sight.
Things were actually calm for a week, he was away and she was way too busy with her own work to care. When he came back things had changed in a unexpected way. He didn't mocked or belittled her, he really talked to her, like a normal person, like everyone did.
That left her stunned, she was relieved for sure, but also curious. What she didn't know was that he found out that she was his soulmate, and he was hers, of course.
Throughout her life she hadn't cared much about her mark or the whole soulmate thing, she didn't even remember how it worked. But he knew it all too well and actually believed it a lot.
He saw her mark before leaving, it happened by chance, but from that moment on he knew the truth, and didn't know how to feel about it. He hated her, yes, but just because he actually liked her too much.
He was the one who was scared now!
-Are you ok? Not that i care but you look like you could faint at any moment- she said to him, pity in her words.
-What? Oh..no no i'm ok, thanks for asking-
-Are you feverish or something?You actually thanking me? You must be really sick-
-Can't i just be nice? Is that really strange to you?- he angrily answered.
-Actually?Yes, very much.- she stated - You were the one that hated me with a passion so...it's a bit weird to me, yes!-
He remained silent, didn't know how to respond anymore. He wanted to tell her the truth but then he realized that he fucked up big time…
-Do you believe in soulmates?- he suddenly asked after.
-What? Like if i have a mark or something? Didn't care much about it, why?-
-Nothing...really, just asking-
He was afraid, now he was certain…
-Ok...i'll leave you be, if you need anything…-
-I know, don't ask you for help...understood-
-Actually, i was saying, if you need help...let me know- she corrected him -Believe it or not, i'm a decent human being-
And she was gone, again…
He really didn't know what to do..
But destiny was on his side this time.
That night, the strange question that he made her was still in her head. The time she was completely alone, she decided to check on her mark. Last time was when she was ten and she still believed in love, now everything was different.
Once she saw it everything was clear for her. It was strange, almost and she wasn't even shocked.
It was natural, it was her destiny and it was right, she could feel it.
Hello! @littlespoiltthing it is I!!! Your Secret Santa revealed! Here is a one shot I wrote (with a title inspired by @littlespoiltthing ‘s own beautiful work) for @dtfrogertaylor‘s Christmas Event. Enjoy everyone!!
Pairing: Ben Hardy x fem!Reader
Words: 2412
Warnings: Families, kissing, swearing, Christmas, grandparents, and parents being grandparents and parents. Sex, engagement, and kids are mentioned, nudity but nothing graphic. Plus a LOT was inspired by the Hallmark movie Holiday Engagement
Genre: Fluff and a bit of Angst!
“If I have to see you single again on another Christmas, I’ll jump off a bridge!” your grandmother whined over the phone. You sighed deeply, out of reach of the phone on the speaker in your hand.
“She’s joking, of course!” your mom interjected.
Yeah right, with another year and another ring less finger in the midst of an Instagram feed full of clean, French manicures with the largest diamonds sparkling on the left hand with two billion likes, you had had it. Especially since a lot of those clean, French manicured hands of yours with large sparkling diamonds on the left hand with two billion likes were in your family.
So now every head that was female and greying turned to you in anticipation. And every holiday, from their wrinkled, pink lips and their hot breath full of peppermint came the dreaded question with the monotone, dreaded answer.
Then came Ben.
Charming. Funny. Smart. Single. Ben.
He sat in your car on the passenger side and his eyes widened at your grandmother’s comment.
“Oh, I just want you to be happy, dear! And know you’re taken care of!”
Your grandmother forgot to recall the new world of college degrees, Netflix nights with friends, job choices, and vibrators to think a man could possibly be in the picture for women in the 21st century.
This was where Ben came in. Especially his job for the next week.
Ben clicked his tongue a little and bit his lips in a way that almost made you miss the turn.
He reached over the clicked the red button on the phone to end the call.
“Well, she’s a little mad.”
“She’s mad for babies, that’s what. I think she just wants babies to play with without changing diapers or, you know, responsibility” you said.
“Maybe I should’ve brought a dog, then” Ben quipped.
It was ideal. But too ideal. Ben and you were friends. Just. Friends. No matter what your stomach felt. No matter what fantasies you had at night. Just friends.
But it was nice to live that fantasy for a week. Merry frickin’ Christmas.
You pulled the car over to the park and walked into the big house. Already a lot of your family had entered in and were having drinks in red cups as a sports game blared on the tv as opposed to nice Christmas music tinkling away.
“Oh, honey, welcome!” your mother greeted, walking in with a big hug, the red arms of her red sweater outstretched.
“And is this your boyfriend?”
“Oh, yes, I’m Ben, Ben Jones.” He greeted. He had a polite smile and had engaged in his role. Today’s audition he had to read the role of boyfriend to shut up the Karens for a week. Only no real script except what was discussed, and pure improv. Good thing he was paid to leap off of trucks and shoot fake guns for Micheal Bay.
How hard could it be? After all hard was his name. His stage name.
Your grandmother gawked at you.
“Oh my gosh! What a cutie! I haven’t seen a butt that perky since your grandfather in ’72!”
“Grandma!” you gasp, but giggling anyway.
You hug your mom very tightly, so much you can smell her. Ben merely gives her a platonic handshake.
But Ben handles being the dutiful boyfriend very well. People go over and drill questions into him. He hesitates a little and then replies quietly.
“So Ben, what job do you have.”
“I’m an actor, film, and television.”
Though one cousin of yours, who is at least six foot five and the size of a buffalo storms over, almost to Ben’s face. If it were not for the reindeer antlers hanging from his head, you probably would have been nervous.
“I’ll tell you Jonesey, my cousin, Y/N, is the sweetest, smartest, best girl ever.”
“I know! I wouldn’t be datin’ ‘er if she wasn’t!” Ben replies. His hands shoot out in front of him.
You can feel yourself biting your cheek insides in order not to smile.
Your cousin practically grabs him by the shirt collar and lifts him almost.
“If you break her heart or hurt her, I swear to God, man, I’ll cut your nuts off!”
“I-I won’t!” Ben insists being lowered to the ground.
But right as Ben turns around and sees your brother and you feel your stomach turn a little. Are your family members ganging up on poor Ben?
But he just nods his head and says “I think you seem like a nice guy, Ben, so ditto. But Y/N is a tough cookie, I trust you with her. And I trust her” he adds, he picks up his mug in the shape of Frosty the Snowman and lifts it as a toast in your direction.
Pretending to be dating was almost too easy. Natural, even.
It seems like forever, but the guests eventually filter their way out. Your family sighs deeply Your stepfather throws himself on the couch, almost melting into it.
“Well somebody has to pick up the dogs tomorrow…”
You can see Ben’s face light up.
“Dogs?” Ben interrupts, widening into the smile of a seagull offered a crumb of bread.
Your mom is a little taken aback.
“Uhm, yes…we have two German Shepherd puppies. We had to put them in a daycare center for the party. They’re cute, but a little rowdy,” she warned, shuffling her feet.
You have to hold Ben back from jumping into the car and picking them up now.
“I’ll go, why, I’ll even drive!”
“Well, thank you, Ben!”
“Anything for my best…”
You kick him softly into the back of his leg, threating harder later if he doesn’t keep it together.
“Anything for my best girl! That is! The best girlfriend ever!”
The night gets darker and everyone is exhausted from the greeting party.
“You guys are fine sharing a bed, is that right? Well, the only bed available is Y/N’s old bed…” your stepfather begins.
You are both muttering and Ben’s turning very pink.
“Yes, Dad! We are thinking about moving in, soon, so sharing a bed isn’t a problem.”
But you both head to the room, lock the door and sigh.
“This is gonna be harder than I thought.” You confess.
“I think we’re doing great!” Ben adds optimistically, looking around at the trinkets and clothes left on hangers and chairs in your room. “And we don’t have to sleep together, I brought an air mattress.”
Fighting the urge to wince from the comment, you begin chewing your bottom lip.
“I need to go to bed, when do you shower? There’s only two up here.” You suggest, fanning out your top from the sweat you gathered.
“Mornin” Ben added, noticing an old book on your shelf and curiously thumbing through it.
As you take some towels and walk off, you bump into your mother getting a laundry basket.
“Do you think they liked the cake I made?” she asked.
“Oh, they definitely did!” you assure.
“I just think I may not have put enough icing, you know the family always goes for the heavy sweet stuff”
“Oh, mom, your baking is always great! Fyi, Ben got a really big slice today if that’s a sign!” you tease.
She taps your shoulder lovingly.
“And how’s your relationship with Ben going?”
You pull your hands under the towel and squeeze.
“It’s…good mom, really good.”
“It’s just that today I noticed you didn’t hug or hold hands or kiss that much” she murmured, relaxing her arms so that the empty laundry basket seemed to dangle from her grasp.
“We wanted to be respectful. You wouldn’t want to see your daughter making out with a guy all evening, would you!”
Your mother’s eyes sparkled as if hesitant to give you an unexpected answer.
“Well, of course not!”
“Besides,” you say, turning to the bathroom and opening the door “he’s the kind of person who’d rather be private about touchy stuff, you know?”
Your mother hums in understanding and turns off to her room.
A warm homey shower and a nice bedtime routine got you all settled. Cleanliness of your body and mouth seemed to free you from the weariness of the social demands and your mental worries of what could go wrong.
But there was one more thing that did go a little wrong. When you walked back into your room Ben was lifting the blanket to get into the air mattress.
In his birthday suit.
You let out a scream and turned away immediately, not sure whether to be thankful or mortified or both. Ben saw you and let out a small yelp as well, he grabbed an old pillow and put it right over his junk. His whole head turned pink.
“I’m so sorry. You were taking your time and I thought I’d be under by the time you…y’know!!!” He seemed to curl down and you fought the powerful urge not to let your eyes wander to his eight-pack.
“Just put on some underwear for the love of God!”
You manage to get him in underwear and your mother's fluffy pink robe full of flowers. Almost scoffing, you flop on your bed and fall asleep almost at once.
What you don’t see is Ben turning his head to look at you. He can’t go to sleep quite yet. Thoughts are racing thought his head far too fast for him to catch one and examine it.
Being in your room, seeing all your old trinkets, clothes, books, and even toys everywhere. Bits of your personality shine out to him. And now a younger, but your deeper, almost private self is now all around him.
He adores it and his heart is bursting silently. With widening eyes, he keeps still on the bed and observes each tiny detail as if it is a clue to reveal a bit more about you.
And there you are, your face turned right to face his, eyes closed and deep asleep. He admires how there’s a bit of moonlight from the window falling on you and he can see you.
There you are so close. If he got up now, he could touch your hand perhaps and even stir. He could place his head against your heart to feel how after everything today that it’s beating just, so, so slow. Your lips are curved into a smile. Is it a dream, perhaps? His hand almost reaches out, wanting to trace every bit of your face but he stops himself.
He nestles down on the pillow and your face is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and drifts off into uneasy rest.
Nights like these got quieter as the days got repetitive. There was a lot of smiling and conversing with each other in the day and in the evening, you both would be quiet. The air dripping with words that wanted to be said and yet could not be said for fear of something dying.
One evening the clock had struck one in the morning and neither one of you had gotten any sleep other than tossing and turning.
“Let’s just watch Christmas movies together!” Ben suggests childishly, and you nod. You two will sneak downstairs and watch The Grinch and Netflix together. One evening, Ben suggested The Snowman.
“It’s on Youtube, have you ever seen it?”
“No!”
“Let’s watch it!” Ben says, whipping out his phone and suggesting you scoot over.
It’s hard not to let your head fall on his shoulder and you force yourself to keep the slightest distance.
At the very end of the short little feature, the magical Snowman had melted, leaving the little boy alone in the snow as the credits rolled over a soft song with an orchestra and boy soprano.
Ben was bawling quietly.
“Oh my god…every bloody time…”
But as you reach over, you wipe off the tears and he looks right at you. You are both quiet.
“Go back to sleep, I need to have a smoke before I sleep.”
It had been a long smoke too.
On Christmas Eve, it was another small gathering. Mainly Grandma. She was eyeing you two as if she was watching the last five minutes of a Game of Thrones episode for any sudden, shocking twist or turn.
Like a kiss. Or a hug.
Ben could tell something was up and pulled up to her. “Well hello there, I’m Ben Jones, I don’t think I’ve talked with you much yet, but I’m dating your granddaughter.”
She nodded and gigged. Her eyes shone and brought energy not felt for about fifty years
“I know, we haven’t talked!” she replied, raising her shoulders a little in shyness.
“And I can’t leave a lovely lady all by herself!” Ben added with a wink.
You smiled. Ever the charmer where it counted.
You went over to the kitchen and heated up two mugs of hot milk and picked tow packets of hot chocolate.
But as you walked over to hand them to Ben right by the doorway there was a sudden burst of “OOOOOOOHHHHH!” from your brother.
There was mistletoe hanging over the two of you.
Mistletoe that wasn’t there yesterday.
You and Ben stared at each other, blinking. Then you looked at your grandmother, eyes wide and nodding.
You gave him a short peck. His lips were cold and reeked of onions from the pizza you ate, but it was soft and plump.
Ben looked back at you, dazed. You only half heard the cheering from everyone and the toasts.
You both looked at each other, the party went on, but it was as if you two were the only ones in the world.
“Y/N…” he starts….”I think I need some air…” he confesses.
“Me too…” you say, following after.
You both rush, the air is cool and soft, not freezing like the typical Christmas Eve and with a disappointingly green front yard in front of you and a semi-clear sky.
Before you can say anything, Ben looks up at you shyly.
“Can I kiss you properly? And date you proper? Not for fake…”
You take your hands on each side of his face, his green eyes grow to the size of your neighbors' bushes.
“Uhm…it that a yes? It was a pretty bad kiss back…”
“Shut up” you insist before locking your lips onto yours for a much bigger improvement.
Hi there love! I‘m so sorry for the lack of 'asks‘ I‘m sending you, but uni is kicking my ass right now. How are you doing? What food are you having for christmas? - 🎅🏼
Oh that’s alright!! I haven’t been sending many to mine either. I feel bad! I’m doing well! Are you from the UK ? We never call it “uni” here in the states haha, but I know how you feel. College shit is kicking my ass too!
I’m not quite sure what I’m eating for Christmas. Found out earlier this year I have a rare type of colitis, so I can’t eat sugar, dairy, gluten, garlic, or onions anymore, so I honestly don’t know what my mom will figure out to make for me haha.
Summary: You always know to expect a few surprises at any Queen party. You just weren’t expecting a surprise like this.
Wordcount: ~3,100
Tags: Brian x f!Reader, a bit Halloween themed but mostly just a lot of fluff
Notes: Written for @generic-fandom-trash for the Halloqueen event! I had such a blast writing this, and I really hope you enjoy it! And thanks to @dtfrogertaylor for putting together another great event!
You are cordially invited to join Queen for a Halloween Masquerade, the gilded invitation had read. Masks required. Fancy dress optional.
The description had been vague, but Brian assured you that the event was mostly an excuse for Queen to spend as much of the label’s money as they could get away with before setting off on another tour. Judging by the lavishly decorated room that you’ve stepped into, they’ve met that goal quite well.
There’s no mistaking that it is a Halloween party, of sorts. The gothic manor house chosen to host the evening is the perfect backdrop for the festive decorations adorning every surface. Candles flicker in the wall sconces and jack-o’-lanterns grin on every table. And still, somehow the band has made it look decadent rather than trite.
Freddie sidles up next to you, unmistakable even with the opulent mask covering the upper half of his face. He’s dressed as a circus ringmaster, dripping gold and wearing silks, a whip hanging from one hip. He passes you a glass of wine and says, “So, what do you think of our little gathering, Y/N?”
“Well, it’s hardly little,” you point out, though that goes without saying. Nothing Queen does is ever little. “But it is fabulous, Freddie. You’ve outdone yourselves this time.”
“You’ve outdone yourself, darling, in that fabulous dress of yours,” Freddie says. “Has our dear guitarist seen you in it yet?”
You shake your head. “I haven’t seen him since this morning. I only just got here.” The band have been here for most of the day, coerced into doing a round of interviews on the new album as a requirement for the record company paying for the evening.
“Mm, well, when you do find him the rooms upstairs have locks on them,” Freddie says, slyly. “In case you two need a little privacy…”
“Freddie!” you protest, but you’re laughing despite yourself.
Freddie just winks at you and disappears into the crowd with a small wave, leaving you to strike out on your own in search of your boyfriend.
The room is fairly packed, with about three-quarters of the guests wearing costumes and everyone in the required masks. You’re grateful that you chose a simple costume, a medieval-style dress paired with a crown and some dainty jewelry, rather than some of the over-the-top ensembles that others are wearing. You squeeze past a pair of ridiculously oversized fairy wings and wonder how long it’ll take before those get broken on the dancefloor.
It shouldn’t be hard to find Brian and yet it takes you several minutes before you finally spot him across the room. His costume is as simple as yours- clothes he already owned paired with a dark cape, his mask plain black and doing little to hide his identity- but the sight of him still takes your breath away. Even though you’ve been with him for years, in moments like this you’re still overwhelmed by how much you love this man.
And the feeling, it seems is mutual, because although there’s someone standing next to Brian clearly trying to talk to him, Brian only has eyes for you. You watch his face light up in joy when he realizes that you’ve spotted him, and he quickly excuses himself from his conversational partner to make a beeline for you…
...only to be waylaid by someone else after taking barely a few steps forward. And you can see a third person watching from the sidelines, waiting to swoop in for their chance to talk to Brian as well, despite the fact that he keeps glancing at you and clearly doesn’t want to be chatting with anyone.
Luckily there’s no one stopping you as you cross the room and cut into the conversation with a breezy, “So sorry, I have to borrow Mr. May for a moment, important band business, you know how it is…” You usher Brian away with a gentle hand on his back, acting more of a bodyguard than a girlfriend, and you can feel Brian shake with barely-contained amusement.
“C’mon, let’s head outside,” Brian says, ducking his head close to your ear to be heard over the music and the crowd. “Less of a chance of being bothered out there.”
“Good idea.” You veer left, towards the door, tugging Brian along behind you.
Once you’re outside he laughs, bright and happy, and picks you up, spinning you around in a swirl of skirts and laughter. “You are my hero,” he tells you as he sets you back down, and kisses you on one cheek. “If had to answer any more questions I think I would have snapped.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” you say with a laugh. Your mask is slightly askew from Brian’s excited reaction and you reach up to fix it, only to have Brian push your hands away and gently pull it away from you face altogether.
“I’m pretty sure the party rules don’t apply once you’re outside,” he says, tucking the mask into his pocket.
You reach up and tug Brian’s mask off his face. “Then you don’t need to be wearing this either.”
Brian laughs again and says, “Alright, fair enough,” before the door opens suddenly behind you and a small group of partygoers comes stumbling out.
You and Brian both step to the side to let them pass, and Brian jerks his head towards the sprawling grounds behind you. Without anything else needing to be said, you follow him further away from the house and out into the quiet garden.
Even back here there’s evidence of Queen’s presence in the strings of fairy lights along the paths and jack-o’-lantern eyes flickering in the shadows. The windows at the rear of the house have been opened, letting the faint sounds of music and partying drift faintly through the garden, and the candles in the old wrought-iron lanterns bathe everything in a golden glow.
“lt’s lovely back here,” you say as you look around. Even with few plants left blossoming this late in the season, there’s still a certain beauty to the gardens.
“Definitely worth every cent of the label’s money,” Brian jokes. “But they got us back well and good with those interviewers…”
You make a small noise of sympathy and press close to Brian’s side, wrapping one arm around his waist. He smiles down at you, and some of the tension bleeds out of his frame as he drapes an arm across your shoulders. “It wasn’t too bad,” he assures you. “Just long, as it always is.”
“Still, I wish they’d give you a moment’s rest sometimes,” you tell him. “You aren’t recording or on tour, you should have a moment to just breathe.”
“That’s what tonight’s for,” Brian reminds you. “And we have an advantage for once.” You frown in slight confusion and Brian grins, broad and a little wicked, and explains, “The only people who aren’t in costume are journalists or with the label. Makes it easier to spot and avoid ‘em.”
That startles a laugh out of you, loud enough that if anyone else were around they’d be turning to look at you now. But there’s no one else in the gardens, just you and Brian, who’s looking down at you with a pleased sort of expression on his face, delighted by your unrestrained reaction.
“Speaking of costumes, you look beautiful tonight,” Brian continues. He turns so you’re standing face-to-face, and he looks you up and down. There’s nothing salacious in his gaze, but you still find yourself blushing at the attention. “Radiant, even. I saw you when you first walked in and I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Compliments from Brian still make your heart flutter, even though you’ve been dating for several years. They’re always sincere and you always know that he means every word he says, no matter how cheesy they would sound coming from anyone else.
“Well you look quite handsome yourself, as you always do,” you tell Brian, though you can’t resist teasing him a little and adding, “Though, I don’t think throwing a cape over clothes you already own exactly counts as a costume…”
“In my defense, I was supposed to be a vampire, but I hated the fake teeth,” Brian explains.
Privately, you think Brian already has the perfect little fangs to complete a vampire costume, but you don’t tell him that. Instead you just smile at him and say, “That’s alright. We match better this way.”
Brian laughs. “That’s true. I can be your loyal servant.” He sweeps down into a dramatic bow, cape fluttering around him. “My lady.”
You giggle and reach for Brian’s hand, pulling him back upright. “I’d much rather have you as my prince,” you say. “Standing by my side, through thick and thin.”
“Why not both?” Brian asks. “I can stand next to you, but I’ll still always take care of you. No matter what.”
Your response is lost in a hitching breath as Brian brings your hand up and kisses it gently. There’s so much tenderness in the action, in his eyes, in the love that radiates out from every fiber of his being that it’s almost too overwhelming to bear, but you can’t seem to look away.
“Brian, I…” you breathe, but you don’t know how the sentence is supposed to end when I love you doesn’t begin to cover the magnitude of what you feel for him.
“Marry me,” Brian says suddenly, unexpectedly, the words coming out in a rush, like Brian wasn’t sure he could say them if he tried to draw it out.
You inhale sharply, caught completely off-guard by the abrupt turn in the conversation. “What? Did you just…?”
“I had this all planned out,” Brian continues quickly. “I was going to do everything right. I have a ring back home, and I was going to take you out to a nice dinner and propose in that park where we had our first date, and everything was going to be perfect, and-”
Brian shakes his head and laughs, just a little, and you can hear his nerves at the edges of it. “But then I saw you tonight, and I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You could have been wearing a potato sack and I still would have stared. There’s a hundred people in that room and I didn’t care about a single one of them, except for you. So I don’t want to wait for perfect. I don’t want to wait a second longer.”
And you watch, spell-bound, as Brian drops to one knee in front of you, still holding your hand. “Y/N… Will you marry me?”
Everything about this moment should be ridiculous. You’re dressed as some fantasy princess and Brian is wearing a cape, with both of your masks sticking out the top of his trouser pocket. The sound of dance music is still noticeable around you, as are the pumpkins and decorations that mark this evening unmistakably as a Halloween party.
Brian doesn’t even have a ring. All he has is the adoring love in his eyes, and a look of hope on his face... and that’s enough. That’s more than enough.
“Yes,” you say, as if there was ever a chance of you answering otherwise. “Yes, Brian, of course!”
Your voice is a little watery and there are tears of joy pricking at the corners of your eyes but that’s okay, because when you pull Brian back to his feet you can see that his eyes aren’t dry either. You throw your arms around his neck with a small laugh, and even though you’ve kissed Brian a thousand times before you think it’s never been as wonderful as it feels right now.
But then again, you’ve never kissed your fiancé before.
“Oh my god, you’re my fiancé,” you say, the words coming out slightly mumbled against Brian’s lips.
Brian laughs a little, and says, “And you’re my fiancée too.” There’s a note of wonder in his voice and he kisses you again. “God, I love you.”
He takes a small step back and pulls one of his rings off, and slips it onto the ring finger of your left hand. It doesn’t quite fit you, and it’s bulky and heavy on your smaller hand, but you can’t hold back a bright smile at the sight of it.
“It’s perfect,” you say, beaming up at Brian.
“It’ll do, for now at least,” Brian says. He’s still holding your hand, brushing his fingers along the ring, and it sends shivers down your spine. “I should’ve at least waited until I had your proper ring on hand to do this…”
“No,” you interrupt gently, before Brian can start overthinking his actions and ruin his own happiness in this moment. “I’m glad you didn’t wait a second longer, and no amount of planning could have made this a better proposal.”
Brian smiles at you, a little crookedly, and asks, “Even though we’re both wearing ridiculous costumes?” It’s meant as a joke but there’s a hint of insecurity behind it that you can spot a mile away.
“Even with the costumes,” you reassure him. “I don’t care about the location, or what we’re wearing, or whether you had a ring with you or not. I don’t need things to be perfect, Brian. I just need you.” You grin at him and add, mostly teasing, “Besides, it’ll make a great story to tell our kids later.”
Brian makes a small, choked noise and says, in a slightly strained voice, “Let’s get through the wedding before talking about kids.”
You can’t help but laugh at Brian’s wide-eyed and panicked reaction, and you remind him, “We’ve already discussed kids before, remember?” You both agreed that you wanted children, eventually, and that had settled the matter for the time being.
“Yes, but that was before we were engaged and it became a real possibility,” Brian tells you. “I still want children but, well, one thing at a time.”
And Brian has a point there. You have to admit that even though you’re sure that you want a family with Brian, there’s something that’s a little scary about that prospect now that it’s no longer purely theoretical. “Alright, you have a point,” you concede easily enough. “Wedding first, children later.”
“Wedding first, then the honeymoon, and then children,” Brian tells you. You raise an eyebrow at that, and Brian explains, “I don’t care what schedule the record company tries to force on us, I am taking you on a proper honeymoon.”
You can hear the promise in Brian’s voice and you don’t doubt that he fully intends to do everything in his power to keep it, but you also know that life as the lead guitarist in Queen is nothing if not busy and unpredictable.
And nothing proves this fact better than a sudden new voice interrupting the conversation. “Ah, Brian, there you are!”
It’s John who’s quickly making his way over to the two of you. Much like Brian he took a simplistic approach to his costume, opting to come dressed as a skeleton which has the one advantage of allowing him to wear a full-coverage mask, which is currently pushed up and sitting on top of his head. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed back inside. A few more journalists have turned up for interviews.”
“Ten minutes, is it too much to ask for ten minutes of peace?” Brian mutters, his shoulders tightening slightly with tension and irritation.
“Sorry,” John says again, with a small shrug. “But you know how they are.”
Brian looks up at the darkening sky, and takes a deep breath. “Is there any way you can cover for me? Please?” he asks. His voice is even, but it’s clear that it’s taking some control to keep his irritation at bay.
It doesn’t take John to figure out what, exactly, he interrupted. You watch as his eyes flick down to your hand that Brian is still holding, with the ring clearly visible on your left hand, and you can’t hold back a smile as he pieces it all together.
John grins at you and says, “Well, I guess congratulations are in order then. Took you two long enough.”
“Some of us like to take our time with these things,” Brian says, but the jab is good-hearted and some of his annoyance starts to fade away.
“Oh, I didn’t know that tonight’s spontaneity was your idea of taking your time,” you tease. Brian rolls his eyes at you, but he’s smiling again and that counts as a victory in your books.
“You two really are perfect for each other,” John says with a laugh. “Brian, I’ll cover for you with the journalists. In fact, if you just want to head home, I’ll let Roger and Fred know what’s up. I’m sure the two of them would be more than willing to make some distractions to hide your absence.”
“Are you sure?” Brian asks.
You elbow Brian in the side. “Do not question Deacy’s offer. I for one would love to go home and celebrate our new engagement.”
Brian’s face flushes slightly at the implication behind your words, and the flush only deepens when John says, “The rooms upstairs have locking doors, if you’d rather celebrate here.”
“No, no, I think we’ll head home,” Brian says quickly, pointedly ignoring the laughter from both you and John. “Thanks again, John. I owe you one.”
“Consider it your engagement gift,” John says, and he waves goodbye as you and Brian make your escape from the party.
“You know, Freddie’s not going to be happy that we didn’t tell him ourselves,” Brian says idly, as the two of you head towards the car park. “Roger will probably forgive us, considering the circumstances, but we’ll hear about this from Fred.”
You give Brian a wholly unimpressed look. “Would you rather go back and tell him yourself, then?”
“Absolutely not,” Brian says firmly. The two of you have reached his car and as he unlocks the doors he gives you a wide, and somewhat wicked grin, and adds, “The only thing I want to do is get home, and show you exactly how much I love you.”
You and Brian are sneaking away from Queen’s Halloween party, newly-engaged and still in your own costumes. There is no reason that the tiniest bit of innuendo should turn you on, but because it’s Brian it somehow does.
So you grab Brian by the front of his shirt and pull him into a quick, but fierce, kiss. “Well then, Mr. May,” you breathe, hot against his lips. “What exactly are you waiting for?”
Summary: Your first anniversary with Freddie is quickly approaching, and you know that you don't have the money to spoil him with the lavish sorts of gifts that he deserves. But with a little help from a friend, you realize that you don't need to buy his love and you instead set about creating an evening that the two of you will never forget.
Wordcount: ~5,5k
Tags: Freddie x trans male reader, brief mentions of dysphoria and binding, allusions to sex but no smut, and a whole lot of fluff and love.
Notes: Written for @dynamite-n-lazerbeams for the A Night at the Fandom gift exchange event. I hope you like it darling! This is my first time writing anything with Freddie so I hope it's alright. And thank you to @dtfrogertaylor for organizing this event, it was a lot of fun and I had a blast working on this!
...I also made a moodboard for the fic because I got too excited about this
Freddie Mercury is, without a doubt, the best thing that’s ever happened in your life.
It had taken some time for you and Freddie to settle into each other and into the relationship. Freddie, burned too many times in the past, was hesitant to open himself up and risk getting hurt again. And you, unfortunately enough, had been a Queen fan long before you lucked out and actually crossed paths with Freddie. You were never quite starstruck, in the true meaning of the word, but you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to live up to his standards.
That was nonsense, of course, and you certainly know that now. The real Freddie is sweet and shy. He adores his cats and his friends, and is always kind to the people around him. Even with his diva moments he’s never vicious or cruel. You feel privileged to be counted among the few that he loves and trusts, and you know you’re truly lucky to have found a partner as loving and dedicated as Freddie is. He makes you laugh, and comforts you when your dysphoria feels overwhelming, and always seems to know what to say to reassure you and make you feel better about yourself.
By now both of your initial reservations are gone and it feels like you’ve known each other forever, even though your first anniversary is still a few weeks away. And it’s that anniversary that’s the root of your current problem, and the cause of the stress headache that’s been building at your temples over the last several days.
“What am I going to do, John?” you moan, the effect slightly ruined by the fact that you have your head buried in your arms on the table, your abandoned tea growing cold in front of you. “He can buy whatever he wants, and whatever he doesn’t get for himself other people have probably already bought for him! I can’t compete with that!”
“Then don’t try to compete,” John suggests, taking a sip of his own drink.
“But then I don’t have anything!”
Because the thing is, you don’t come from money. You have a steady job which pays enough for you to live comfortably, but you don’t have any delusions about being able to buy a suitable anniversary gift for Freddie. It makes you uncomfortable, sometimes, when Freddie drops enough money on a single date to pay your entire rent for a month, but you’ve come to accept that Freddie will always spend money like that.
You have a much harder time accepting that you can’t reciprocate, especially when all you want to do is hand Freddie the world on a silver platter.
“Well, what did you do for his birthday?” John asks, with the patience of a saint. “Or Christmas, for that matter?”
You feel your face grow hot with embarrassment. “I had an artist friend of mine paint a portrait of Freddie with his cats for Christmas,” you admit, a little sheepish. Freddie had seemed to like it, and he does having it hanging up in the bedroom at Garden Lodge, but you know that it’s a silly gift and you wait for John to laugh at it.
To your surprise, he doesn’t. “That’s actually a really clever idea,” he says. “Everyone knows the way to Freddie’s heart is through his cats. What about his birthday?”
“Nothing.” You were short on cash at the time, and in fact had picked up an extra shift the night of Freddie’s party just so you could pay your bills for the month.
That gets John raising an eyebrow. “Nothing? Literally nothing?”
“Well, I surprised him the morning of his birthday with cupcakes…”
“And what was his response to that?” John presses when you don’t immediately continue.
You shrug. “He seemed happy with it.”
You still remember the look on his face when he came downstairs and saw you waiting there. His smile was bright and wide, and for a moment he was so overjoyed to see you that he didn’t even think of hiding his teeth. The two of you sat in the garden, eating cupcakes for breakfast and laughing at some of the more ridiculous things that Freddie had been gifted by others, until you had to leave for work and Freddie had to start getting ready for his party.
“Well, that’s the answer then, isn’t it?” John leans back in his chair, as if satisfied that the matter is finally settled, though you’re still as clueless as you were when the conversation started.
“I’m not following you.”
“What do both of your previous gifts have in common?” John asks.
“That they were kind of shit?”
John sighs. “No, that’s actually opposite of what I’m trying to get at here.”
“Then why don’t you just tell me what you mean instead of making me guess,” you say, a little snappish now that your patience is worn thin. “If I wanted cryptic answers I would’ve gone to Brian for help instead of you.”
“No you wouldn’t have,” John says with a laugh. “If you were going to talk to anyone about this besides me it would’ve been Roger.”
There’s some truth to that, if only because Roger was probably the closest to Freddie and would have the best idea of what sort of gifts would suit his taste. But there was a very good reason why you went to John for advice instead of Roger, besides the fact that he had become a genuine friend of yours over the last year. “That implies that, one, I would want to take relationship advice from Roger and, two, that I could be sure he wouldn’t slip up and say something to Freddie on accident.”
John laughs again. “Fair enough. Listen, Y/N, between you and me you’re the best boyfriend Freddie’s had in a good while- or possibly ever. He doesn’t want you to spend a fortune on him. He doesn’t want a thousand trinkets that will just gather dust around Garden Lodge. He wants you.”
“But I can’t even afford to take him out on a fancy date-”
“Y/N,” John interrupts. “He doesn’t need fancy. You’re forgetting that just because he has money now doesn’t mean that he’s always been loaded. He knows how to appreciate the simple joys in life, even if he likes to act like he doesn’t. Clear an evening, make him dinner, and just spend time with him. I promise he’ll love it.” John pauses for a moment, and then adds, “He might also want more paintings of his cats, but that’s irrelevant to the point at hand.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, and you’re grateful that you have John as a friend. Even if you’re not entirely convinced that his plan is the best, at least by the time he finally leaves you’re in a slightly better mood than you were before. Your anxieties are still there, and you hate that you’re this insecure of your place in Freddie’s life after a year of dating, but you at least feel better equipped to face the situation head-on.
And, with few other options and time quickly running, you’re eventually forced to admit that John may actually have a point about keeping things simple. You still want to do something slightly more special than a dinner date at home, but after a few more secret conversations with Freddie’s friends and bandmates you begin to put together your plan.
It’s a few days after your secret conversation with Deaky that Freddie broaches the subject of your anniversary with you. “Were you able to get the day off work, dear? I made reservations for both lunch and dinner, and booked us a… Well, I can change the dates if you need me to, just say the word.”
Freddie is matter-of-fact about his plans, with no resentment over the possibility of postponing your anniversary celebration. Although he’s offered, on several occasions, to support you if you ever wanted to quit your job, he understands why you won’t do that and has come to accept that scheduling conflicts are inevitable in your line of work.
Still, when you tell him, “Actually, I was able to get the day off,” his face immediately lights up. Despite your nerves about what seem to be his fairly extravagant plans, you can’t help but smile and lean in to kiss him gently. “I love when you’re excited about something. You always look so adorable,” you murmur against his lips.
You can feel him smile against you, his moustache tickling your upper lip as it moves when he says, “Adorable? Really, dear?”
You laugh, and kiss him again. “Yes, really! Adorable-” Another kiss. “-and beautiful-” And another kiss. “-and some might even say breathtaking-”
You kiss him again and this time Freddie deepens it, one hand coming up to gently cradle the side of your face. You sigh into his mouth and relax into the kiss, content to spend the rest of the evening snuggled up against Freddie and lazily making out with your boyfriend if that’s what he wants, and you’re a little disappointment when Freddie does finally pull away.
You’re both breathing a bit heavier from the passion of the kiss, but you can’t help but tease him and say, “See? You’re very good at taking my breath away.”
Freddie throws his head back and laughs loudly, a full-body laugh that jostles you where you’re curled up next to him. Not that you mind, though. You always love seeing Freddie this happy and relaxed.
“You’re ridiculous, darling,” he says fondly, still chuckling a little and shaking his head in amusement. “Absolutely ridiculous!”
“You love it, though,” you say, smiling sweetly at him.
“Of course I do,” he agrees without hesitation. “And more importantly, I love you, my dear, and I can’t wait to spoil you rotten on our anniversary.”
The anniversary. The reminder makes your stomach twist uncomfortably with nerves, but you know you have to tell Freddie about your own plans before you chicken out so you clear your throat and say, “Actually, I made plans for our anniversary too. Well, a few days before, anyway. Can you clear your schedule-?”
“Yes,” Freddie says before you can even finish speaking, and you can’t help but laugh.
“I didn’t even tell you what day to clear!” you point out.
“I don’t care,” Freddie says. “I’ll clear the whole week for you if you ask me to. Just tell me where to be and what to wear, darling, and I’ll be there!” His eyes are bright with excitement and you can only hope that your plans don’t disappoint him in the end.
“Two days before our anniversary,” you tell him, because you know you won’t be able to go through with this after Freddie brings out the big guns with his own plans. “And just wear something comfortable. I’ll pick you up here around 8pm, alright?”
“Sounds perfect,” Freddie says, and even though you haven’t really told him anything about what you’re planning he’s beaming as if you’ve already given him the best gift in the world.
After that, it feels like the weeks go by in the blink of an eye and the day of your anniversary plans arrives sooner than you would like. Even though you’re not picking up Freddie until later it takes most of the day for you to get everything ready, and you’re still not convinced that you haven’t forgotten something by the time you finally drive over to Garden Lodge.
Despite Freddie’s penchant for running late to interviews, band rehearsals, and frankly anything he considers not worth his time, he’s actually already waiting for you when you pull up. He’s practically bouncing on his heels in excitement, though he does do a double-take when he sees the old pickup truck that you’ve borrowed for the evening. It’s a far cry from the limos and Rollers that he’s usually driven around in, but you remember what Deaky said about not needing to do anything fancy and try to quash your nerves as Freddie climbs into the passenger’s seat.
“Well this is unexpected,” he says, a little teasingly, though he is looking around the truck with what seems to be genuine interest. He cranes his neck and peers into the bed of the truck, and pouts when he sees that there’s a large tarp tied down that covers anything that might be back there. “What’s all that then, lovie?” he asks, twisting around to try and get a better look- not that there’s anything for him to see, you made sure of that.
“Part of the surprise,” you say. He huffs and sits back down normally with a bit of an exaggerated flounce that you can’t help but laugh at. You lean over and kiss him, just a quick peck, because you do have plans and you can’t get distracted by making out with your boyfriend now.
“I see you managed to mostly listen when I told you to dress comfortably,” you say, giving Freddie a pointed up-and-down look.
Freddie laughs and strikes a pose, which is somewhat limited by the fact that he’s sitting in a vehicle at the moment and not standing front and center on a stadium stage. You had expected him to wear jeans and a t-shirt but Freddie, never one to do what people expect of him, went a slightly different route. He’s still wearing a white t-shirt but he’s paired it with dark leather trousers- not his stage wear, but they’re still sinfully tight and it’s enough to make your mouth go dry with want. It also doesn’t help that he’s wearing a leather jacket as well to round out the outfit, because he knows how much you love his leather jackets.
“You look good, though,” you tell him as you pull out of Garden Lodge and start weaving your way out of town. “Trying to seduce me, Mr. Mercury?”
“That depends,” Freddie says with a sly grin. “Is it working?” You laugh and shove at him gently, and Freddie retaliates by capturing your hand in his, twining his fingers with yours and rubbing his thumb gently along the back of your hand. “You look good too, you know,” he tells you. “And I’m excited to finally see what surprises you have planned!”
You take your eyes off the road to smile at Freddie, your chest growing warm with affection at the sincerity in his words. “I just hope you aren’t disappointed,” you admit. “I think you’ll like it, but…”
Freddie raises your clasped hands and presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “Darling, I get to spend a lovely evening with you. Whatever else you have in store I’m sure I’ll love it.”
You swallow back an overwhelming wave of emotion and fondness, and even though you have to look back at the road to keep driving you tell Freddie, “I love you. So much.”
“And I love you, dear,” Freddie says. “More than words can describe.”
After that, most of your anxiety disappears. It’s about an hour’s drive to where you’re taking Freddie- a fact which he pouts about when you tell him, though you know he’s not truly bothered- and you spend the time chatting about anything and everything under the sun: The band’s new album, which is still under production, the health and antics of each of Freddie’s cats, and some of the more colorful characters you encountered at your own job.
“Alright, we’re only about ten minutes away now,” you say when you finally pull off the highway and onto a small country road. “Do you trust me, Freddie?”
“That’s a bit of an ominous thing to ask when you’ve driven me so far from civilization,” Freddie jokes. “But yes, dear, of course I do!”
You reach down into the center console and pull out a piece of black fabric- a blindfold, which Freddie recognizes immediately. “Put it on?” you ask him, as you hand it over. “I really want this to be a surprise.”
Freddie hesitates, but only for a moment. “Well this is certainly kinky,” he teases, but he does tie the blindfold around his eyes. You immediately dive back into the easy-going discussion of new music that the two of you had been in the middle of to help put Freddie at ease. It seems to work, too; after a minute you notice him starting to relax and by the time you reach your destination he’s laughing and seems to be enjoying himself once again.
“Alright, this is it,” you say as you turn off the engine, and immediately Freddie reaches up towards the blindfold. You grab his hands, and give them a gentle squeeze, and tell him, “Give me five minutes to get things set up first, please?”
Freddie nods and settles back down, and you can’t resist giving him a quick peck on the cheek in thanks before you climb out of the truck and begin your final preparations.
The small, isolated park is as perfect as Brian promised it would be and looks absolutely perfect for the evening you have planned. And you’re very thankful that it’s a clear night- with the headlights off and your eyes starting to adjust to the dark you can see the stars glittering overhead as you untie the tarp and carefully pull it away.
You had gotten things arranged in the bed of the truck before setting off, and luckily most of it stayed in place. It takes only a few minutes to rearrange some of the pillows, set up the picnic basket and bottle of wine, and light a few small citronella candles on the roof of the truck to keep the bugs away. A small, electric lantern is your only other light, and as you scrutinize the scene you have to admit that you’re proud of what you managed to accomplish here.
You’re just hoping that Freddie finds it as charming as you do.
You grab the flowers that you bought and round the truck, opening the passenger’s side door and saying, “Okay, you can take off-”
That’s as far as you get before Freddie reaches up to pull off the blindfold. He doesn’t bother to untie it first and it musses up his hair as he pulls it over his head. You reach out to gently smooth his hair back into place- Freddie doesn’t even seem to notice, as he’s immediately distracted by the bouquet of wildflowers that you’re holding in front of him.
“Darling,” he breathes as you pass the flowers over to him. He inhales deeply, letting out a contented sigh, and smiles happily at you. “Oh, they’re absolutely beautiful! And they smell lovely!”
You smile back at him, and offer him a hand to help him down from the truck. “I’m glad you like them. I couldn’t afford roses on top of the food, but I thought those were pretty enough instead.”
“Food?” Freddie looks around at the dark park, clearly wondering what you’re talking about. There’s no people, no buildings, nothing around at all. It isn’t until you lead Freddie to the back of the truck that the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place, and he lets go of your hand in shock. “Oh, Y/N…”
You’ve converted the bed of the truck into your own cozy, little nook. Soft blankets and pillows cover the base, and you’ve piled even more pillows against the back of the cab for the two of you to lean against. The dim light from the lantern and the candles casts everything in a warm, golden glow. In the center is the picnic basket that you spent ages packing, and the bottle of wine that you carefully picked out, as well as a small radio that you flick on, letting quiet classical music drift over the two of you.
“I knew I couldn’t compete with whatever lavish plans you made, so I thought… Dinner and stargazing? Just the two of us, with no worries about fans or paparazzi finding us…” You bite your lip, suddenly worried by Freddie’s silence. “Do you… do you like it?”
“Like it?” Freddie turns to face you and he’s positively beaming, so happy that it almost seems like he could burst from it. “Darling, I love it. I can’t remember the last time someone did anything half as thoughtful as this for me.” He leans in and kisses you, and when he pulls back there are tears glittering in the corners of his eyes, though he’s still smiling brightly at you. “Thank you, dear. Thank you.”
You reach up to gently wipe the tears away, and Freddie captures your hand and presses a gentle kiss to your fingers, your palm, your wrist. He doesn’t seem to want to let go of you now and you laugh as he keeps pressing delicate kisses to your skin. “I’m so glad you like it,” you tell him. “I was so worried that it would be too silly.”
“I love it because it’s a bit silly,” Freddie says. “I love it because it’s not another Michelin-star restaurant dinner, or a decoration that I’ll have to find somewhere to display, or clothes I’ll probably never wear anyway. It’s unique, and thoughtful, and- and-” He kisses you again in lieu of coming up with more adjectives, but you can feel everything he doesn’t say in the hot press of his lips against yours.
“I love you, Freddie,” you breathe against his lips between kisses, you hands drifting down his hips to tease along the waistband of his leather trousers, “but if you keep this up we’re never going to actually make it to the bed of the truck.”
“Nonsense,” Freddie says. “If we keep this up we’d have to get up there, because I’m not having sex against the truck or on the ground.” You can’t help yourself and you burst out laughing at Freddie’s comment. He just grins at you, broad and beautiful. It’s moments like this, full of both tenderness and Freddie’s wicked sense of humor, that remind you just how much you love this man- and how lucky you are to have him in your life.
“Come on, let’s eat before we get too carried away,” you say. Freddie still doesn’t want to let go of you and you laugh as you try to climb into the back of the truck while still holding onto his hand. You manage it, somehow, and it’s easy to help Freddie up as well from there.
The two of you settle in near the back of the truck, snuggled so close together that Freddie is practically sitting in your lap. You open the picnic basket and begin pulling out small containers of food- stuffed dates, cheese, fruit, small finger sandwiches… simple, romantic foods that you knew would travel well.
While you organize everything Freddie gently sets his bouquet of flowers aside and opens the bottle of wine. It doesn’t take him long to find the glasses you carefully packed, and he pours each of you a drink. “To you, my darling,” he toasts, “and to this fabulous evening you’ve arranged for us.”
“To you, Freddie,” you tell him as you clink your glass against his. “I love you so much, and I hope we can have decades of anniversaries like this one.”
Freddie kisses you again, but he keeps it quick and chaste this time and turns his attention to the foods you brought along. He picks up a strawberry and holds it up to your mouth and you laugh, but take a bite out of it anyway. If that’s how Freddie wants to do this, well, you’re certainly not going to complain.
You take turns feeding each other small bites of food, sampling everything as the two of you enjoy each other’s company and the easy conversation that always seems to flow between you. One glass of wine turns into two, and Freddie pours each of you a third to finish off the bottle as you snag the last cherry and pop it into your mouth before burrowing closer to Freddie to leech some of his body heat.
The temperature had dropped considerably since you first got here and, although you thought you’d be fine with your dress shirt and the athletic compression shirt that you always wore to bind your chest, you find yourself shivering slightly in the cool night air. That doesn’t go unnoticed by Freddie, who immediately starts to shrug off his jacket, dislodging you in the process.
“No, no, I’m fine, please don’t-” You huff as Freddie drapes the jacket over your shoulders, completely ignoring your protests. “There are extra blankets, you know, I could’ve just grabbed one of those.”
“Maybe I just like seeing you in my clothes,” Freddie says. You shiver again, but this time it has nothing to do with the chill in the air. “Although,” he continues, with a bit of a wicked smirk, “for all the fuss you gave me about dressing comfortably, I can’t believe you forgot to bring a jacket!”
“I didn’t forget, I just didn’t think I’d need it.” You tug at the collar of your button down shirt, exposing just the edge of the compression shirt. “I’m usually too warm, remember?”
Freddie rolls his eyes, but when he smiles at you it’s a bit softer and he admits, “I forgot about that. I’m sorry, dear.”
“No need to apologize.” Freddie has always been wonderful to you, never treating you like less of a man and always quick to offer comfort and reassurances when your dysphoria is at its worse. Still, you’re not above poking fun at his chivalrous streak and you can’t help but tease, “Though, if you start shivering now I’m not giving your jacket back. I don’t care how cold you get, it’s mine now.”
“Keep it, then. It looks very good on you,” Freddie says as he grabs one of the spare blankets and wraps it around both of your shoulders.
Your eyes narrow in suspicion, because despite his attempt to distract you with a compliment you’re pretty sure that Freddie just gave you this jacket to actually keep forever, which was not the point of your comment at all.
Before you can say anything, though, Freddie dims the lantern slightly and looks up at the night sky. “So,” he says. “How good are you at stargazing anyway?”
“Very good,” you tell him. When Freddie looks down at you in surprise you grin at him and motion to the sky, saying, “Those are the stars, and I think you’ll find that it’s remarkably easy to lie here and gaze at them.”
Freddie swats at your shoulder, though he’s laughing as he says, “That’s not what I meant at all!” You can see his teeth gleaming even in the dim light and he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to cover them, either with his hand or his lips. It makes your heart flutter to know that Freddie trusts you enough to not hide any part of himself from you.
“I’m not very good at identifying the stars,” you finally admit. You had been worried, at first, that Freddie would find the idea of stargazing particularly stupid, but you’re both relaxed from the dinner and the wine and he’s still staring up at the sky with a look of contentment on his face. “I know Ursa Major-” you point to the cluster of bright stars that are the easiest to identify, and trace your fingers out along the dimmer points at the ends of the constellation. “-and I know Ursa Minor is just north of that… but that’s all I’ve got.”
“Well, luckily for us, I know a few more.” Freddie points up at the sky, his side of the blanket slipping down from around his shoulders. “Virgo is right there, do you see it? That bright star towards the south is the corner of one of the boxes, and then the four arms… and just to the right of it, that’s Leo. Looks more like a swan than a lion, but I suppose no one asked for my opinion when they were naming these things.”
He laughs again, and even though you can’t quite make out the constellations that he’s pointing at you still smile, because Freddie looks so eager to be sharing this knowledge with you. “And Cancer, that’s just to the right of Leo, sort of to the side of your Ursa Major. Do you see it, Y/N? It looks a bit like a lopsided X. And Mars is that tiny red dot to the north of that…”
“How do you know all of these?” you ask, instead of answering Freddie’s question because, truthfully, you can’t see any of those constellations. But you don’t need to see them when you can see the happiness in Freddie’s eyes instead.
“Oh, Brian showed them to us ages ago,” Freddie says. “Back when the band first got together, before our first album even, we’d drive up and down the country in this ancient van to go to gigs, and whenever it broke down and we found ourselves stranded until it we could get it back up and running again Brian would talk about the stars. Had to put that astrophysics degree to use somehow, I suppose.” He laughs at his own joke and continues, “I’m not sure how much the others listened but he pointed out our zodiac constellations and some of the planets and, well, I guess I’ve just managed to hold onto some of that over the years.”
Freddie tells his story so casually, like it’s no big deal that he can recall these bits of trivia told to him over a decade ago now, like it doesn’t mean the absolute world to the people in his life that he cares enough to remember things like this. For all that Freddie is confident in his ability as a performer and a rockstar, you know that his real strength is in how much he cares about those he holds close.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” you tell him as you snuggle closer to him.
He wraps the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “You’re amazing, my dear. Planning this whole thing, arranging the food and this space in the truck… All I do is throw money at people, but what you’ve done here is incredible.”
You shake your head and turn to look at him. He’s still staring at the stars and you gently reach out to cup the side of his face, to make sure he’s looking at you properly when you firmly say, “You are amazing, Freddie Mercury. I’ve never met someone half as caring and thoughtful as you are. You use your money to help others and make people happy. That’s not something to be so dismissive about.”
“Well,” Freddie says, but doesn’t seem to have anything else to say in response to your little impassioned speech.
You smile, and lean in to kiss him again. It feels like you’ve spent half the evening kissing Freddie and you don’t even care; you’d spend the rest of your life kissing him if you could. He makes a soft noise and presses closer to you, reaching out to grab the front of your shirt, and it is taking every ounce of willpower that you didn’t know you had to stop yourself from undressing him right then and there.
You want Freddie, you want to be as close to him as possible, to bury yourself under his skin and into his life and never leave. Every time you think you’ve gone too far, that you’ve pushed for too much, Freddie turns around and pulls you even closer. And every time you doubt yourself or doubt your place in Freddie’s life, he’s there refusing to let you leave and offering up whatever reassurances you need with both his actions and his words.
Freddie lets out a little huff of laughter, his breath hot against your lips. “Look at us, making out like two teenagers. If we weren’t technically in a public park…”
His voice trails off and he doesn’t finish that thought, but he doesn’t have to. You know what he’s thinking because it’s the same thing you’re thinking. “We can always go home, if that’s what you want.”
To your surprise, though, Freddie shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t want to call an end to our lovely evening just yet. Dessert will just have to wait.”
The joke is terrible but you laugh at it anyway as you settle back against Freddie’s side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “There’s cupcakes in the picnic basket still if you want an actual dessert.”
“Mm, in a bit, darling,” Freddie says. “Right now, I just want to keep looking at the stars with you.”
And you, of course, have no objections to that. You’re over-the-moon in love with Freddie Mercury, after all, and the best part is that you know Freddie is right there with you.
