Freddie Mercury - One-Shots and Imagines

'Cause that's totally normal, right?

DISCLAIMERS!

1. It's not aids, I swear! (you'll understand later)

2. Y/N is a little bit of a crackhead in this one.

3. I got the plot idea for this MONTHS ago, before I was even considering starting a fanfic account, and I just didn't change anything LMAO.

1977
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"IT'S PERFECT!" I exclaimed, lifting the tip of my pencil from the paper as I gazed over my drawing-ahem- artistry. A near-perfect likeness of Freddie's face. "Oh my f*cking god, it should be illegal for someone to be this gorgeous." I murmured, my heart melting at the mere thought of him.

The song on my radio slowly fizzled out, before switching into Seaside Rendezvous. My heart leaped as I jumped up from my seat, fully prepared to act out the entire thing with my hat and tap shoes.

Suddenly, my sixth sense kicked in. Something's wrong. I tip-toed over to the record player and slowly switched it off. The music abruptly halted, leaving me stirring in a room full of silence. My eyes spaced out, transitioning my energy to my ears, I listened intently.

The sound of weary trudging from across the hall alerted me as I crept forwards, taway from the record player. Careful to not make a single sound, I slowly wrapping my hand around the door handle. 

Oh dear. 

Whenever one of the boys was up this early, it could mean a variety of things. One, a nightmare, and they're going to run in here sobbing. Two, they're hungry, and probably going to burn the place down. Three, they're about to do something fantastically dimwitted.

I just hope it's not the third one. Or the first one. Two can be easily fixed. 

Bracing myself for whatever perils may await me, I stepped from the doorway, the cold air from outside my room swirling around me, the crisp smell of air conditioning floating through my nose. I squinted my eyes to try and decipher any possible images in the midst of this sea of grey. Fumbling for the flashlight, I whipped it out, and a beam of light shone from one end, illuminating the hallway in front of me.

The footsteps quickly skidded to a stop.

"Morning!" I exclaimed cheerily, strutting from the hallway, covering half of the ray from my flashlight to avoid blinding any innocent bystanders today. "Hey, Freddie. Why are you up so early?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, quickly stifling a gasp as he staggered into the light.

His forehead shone with beads of sweat, his eyes glassy. His face had dropped three shades in color from the night before, now nearly paper-white.

"Hey." He croaked, waving with a shaking hand. "No reason." He lied, stumbling in the opposite direction as he attempted to hurry away from me.

"Couch." I gestured to the couch a few feet away. With a melodramatic sigh, he obeyed and flopped onto the couch, his body immediately going limp. "Let me take your temperature." I demanded, shuffling up closer to him. Mumbling unintelligibly, he lifted his face.

Without a second of hesitation, I raised the back of my hand against his forehead. Immediately, I withdrew my hand, the heat still lingering.

"Dear god." I hissed as he laughed wearily, his voice scratchy. "Well. You're definitely sick." I grumbled, placing my hands on my hips as I stood up. "Are you cold?" I asked, met with wide eyes and frantic shaking of his head. "Yeah, that was a rather stupid question."

"I'm not sick." He protested, propping himself up on his elbows as his whole body shuddered. He immediately gave out and flopped back, his arms folded over his chest. "Still not sick."

"Okay, honey. I'll get you a glass of water." I chuckled weakly, shaking my head as I trotted towards the kitchen, resulting in almost landing nose-to-nose with Roger. "G'morning to you too!" I huffed as he glared into my eyes.

"Is Freddie sick?" He murmured, rubbing his eyes as he realized what he was doing. Giving him a weary smile, I nodded. "Oh sh*t."

"Rog, dear, I love you, but why are you awake?" I asked, strolling past him and snatching a glass cup from the cabinet as his soft footsteps echoed, creeping up behind me.

"I heard noises."

"Ah, the voices?

"F*ck off!" He groaned, a light chuckle weaving through his voice as he watched my every move intently. He slowly crept closer, his chin resting on my shoulder as he whispered into my ear. "Freddie likes you."

"I'd certainly hope so, I'm your f*cking manager!" I quipped, brushing off his "smart" remark as I poured a generous amount of frosty water into the cup. It nearly overflowed, but I have a little  self control.

"Oh, you know that's not what I mean." He huffed, posing with his hands on his hips as I whisked right past him, stepping gracefully in front of the couch to place the glass of water on the table in front of Freddie.

"Thank you." He mumbled, his eyes half closed as he fumbled for the water. "You're the best." He murmured, pouring the water down his burning throat before he buried his face back into the fabric of the couch.

"I pride myself on it." I smirked, stealing a book of the stocked shelf in front of me, flipping to the beginning of the book. Smiling faintly at the half-asleep Freddie who lay in front of me, I plopped down in the chair.

This is going to be a long day.

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"IF YOU PUT MORE SUGAR IN THIS TEA, I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!" Brian screeched from the kitchen, an inhuman sound that he typically reserved for Roger. Sighing bitterly to myself, I rose from the chair, setting the book down on a side table. Freddie shifted on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed in a pained expression as I left the room.

"Brian, can you please turn it down a little?" I implored, grimacing as he swiveled around to glare at me.

"DO NOT ENCOURAGE THIS OUTRAGE! THIS IS A CRIME, A-" I clamped a hand over his mouth as Freddie tripped into the room, squinting his eyes, his face even paler than it had been that morning.

"Brian, with due respect, please shut the f*ck up, because Freddie is sick, and I want to be able to supervise him, so he's sleeping on the couch." I grimaced, biting back a laugh as Freddie mumbled something and staggered back out of the room, and Brian turned slightly pink.

"Sorry." He murmured, brushing my hand away from his mouth as he returned to glare at Roger and remake his cup of tea.

Chuckling to myself, I returned to where Freddie sat on the couch, arms crossed, his head resting on his knees.

"Hey, Fred." I smiled softly, sitting down next to him. His head immediately fell to my shoulder, his body shaking. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like sh*t." He chuckled weakly, tracing patterns down my arm with his slightly-quivering fingers, the remnants of a weary grin on his pale lips.

"Oh, darling, if I could do anything to make you feel better I would." I whispered, guilt weaving through my words, though he shook his head.

"You already have. You're here."

A/N

I almost accidentally just typed "morbid" instead of "morning".

LMAO ignore that. I don't really like this one-shot very much, but whateverrrrrrrrr. It's fine! I kept getting sidetracked by A) receiving notifications. B) reading fanfiction. C) looking at pictures of Freddie. D) coming up with other fanfiction ideas.

Okay, update, I fixed some things, and I hate it less. 

I just love making things difficult for myself! :D

Hope you enjoyed! Peace out, Queenies!