Freddie Mercury - One-Shots and Imagines

Newspapers

1975
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 "Ridiculous, I tell you. Utterly ridiculous." Y/N huffed, strutting through the door. A blast of frigid air rushed past her ears, a hardened glint in her eyes.

"Whoa there, Y/N. What's going on?" Roger inquired, glancing up from his spot at the sofa. The room bathed in golden lights from the exquisite, intricately designed chandelier, the sheer, lacy curtains billowing from over the window.

Roger was perched on the couch, his sandy blonde hair a frazzled mess. He picked at flakes of skin on his hands, raising an eyebrow as Y/N came running into the room.

Drawing in a deep breath, Y/N pressed her hand to the door, pushing it into the lock. Until the click sounded, she remained silent.

Silence infused with suspense hung in the room, Y/N's frustration bordering on the edge of white-hot fury. The door slid into the lock, the sounds from the outside world dissolving into the inky canvas of the night.

"The press." Y/N lamented, bitterness lacing her words. "The press is what's going on." She exclaimed, her cheeks flushed pink. The heels of her shoes dug into her ankles, the skirt of her silky white dress wrinkling. However, she stayed rooted to the spot, incapacitated by the demons of her own anger.

"Again?" Roger sighed, his face falling. He furrowed his eyebrows in disgust, folding his arms over his chest. "It's always the f*cking press. What'd they do this time?" He queried, waving Y/N over to sit next to him.

The world seemed to hold its breath, the faint chirping of crickets in the distance, melting into pure silence, as Y/N searched for words. The crisp, frosty aroma of autumn wafted through an open window, filling the house with a distant sense of cheer.

Distant.

Very distant.

"They're making up rumors about Freddie. They're saying he's arrogant and rude." Y/N fumed, shaking breaths rattling her lungs, fury simmering, boiling over her thoughts.

"You're joking." Roger gaped, frozen in disbelief. Y/N shook her head, her hair bouncing from side to side in the breeze. A sad smile curled on her lips.

"Unfortunately not." She grimaced, rising from her seat on the couch. "I have some paperwork I have to do. Sorry." Y/N murmured, beginning to trudge off to her room.

The atmosphere was enveloped in silence, an inexplicable wave of suspense washing over the house. The lock to the main door unhitched, the distant hum of talking penetrating the night.

The door gave a faint creak before swinging open, revealing Brian and Deaky's frames engulfed in shadows.

Their silhouettes flitted through the diminutive doorframe, illuminated by the golden light of the window.

"Hey," Brian mumbled, his voice poisoned with a sliver of compunction. Deaky nudged him, Brian whispering a few words into John's ear. John nodded.

"So...basically..." Deaks began, his voice quivering. Roger raised an eyebrow, humming in response. Y/N whirled around from inside the hallway, creeping back into the living room.

"Freddie kinda...ran away. And we don't really know where he is...?" Brian chuckled weakly, glancing up at Roger, worry flooding his eyes.

"Oh. Oh. That's not good." Roger fretted, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

"No sh*t, Sherlock." Brian huffed, strutting over to the couch. "We think he's upset about the newspaper." He guessed, his forehead creased with exhaustion.

"Well, I'm going to look for him." Y/N declared, slinging a bag over her shoulder. "If I can't find him in half an hour, I'll come back here. If I'm gone longer than that, I found him." Y/N explained, pulling the door open. Gray shadows trickled over the floorboards, the light of the chandelier sweeping over them.

"See you soon." Y/N waved a hand behind her, earning a few "goodbye"s from the others.

The second the door slid back into the frame, she set off on her trek. She wandered through the eerie quietude of the night. The roads barren, the grass spilling over lawns, the neighborhood cloaked under swathes of darkness.

The gentle rhythm of lake water sloshing over the banks whispered in the distance.

The lake. Y/N's thoughts reminded her, a light bulb going off in her head.

Of course he would be at the lake!

A newfound sense of courage washing over her, she made her way over to the gravelly path, dirt and gravel mixing and crunching under her shoes.

Her heart heavy with suspense, she rounded the corner. A shadow stood on the deck, leaning into the barrier. Raven-black hair spilled over his shoulders, his back turned to the path.

"Freddie?" Y/N called out, her voice ringing through the open area.

"Hi," Freddie responded, his voice shaking. He turned around, a sorrow dullness in his eyes.

Without exchanging another word, Y/N slipped through the thick grass, dashing over to Freddie.

He fell into her arms, his face buried in her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him as he clung to her.

"I-I know I shouldn't have run away. I should've at least told you first. Sorry." Freddie apologized, his forced smile faltering.

"I don't care about that. What made you so upset?" Y/N inquired, cupping the side of his face in her hand.

"I d-don't know why they wrote that about me in the newspaper." He whispered, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"Neither do I. Have you read the article?" Y/N asked, grasping one of his hands. He nodded slightly, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"It was um, it was- none of it was t-true." He sniffled, wiping hastily at his face.

"Oh, honey." Y/N murmured, her heart breaking for him. "Don't cry, Freddie. I can try to get it taken down if it bothers you this much." She offered, praying that this would make him feel better.

"No! No, it's fine. You don't have to go through that trouble." He shook his head frantically.

"What's actually going on?" Y/N quizzed, tracing his face with the tips of her fingers, her heart fluttering.

"I... I don't want them to stop liking my music because of- because of me." Freddie confessed, hot tears streaming down his face. "I don't want them to stop liking my music." He dissolved into sobs, tears cascading from his anguished eyes.

"Oh, Freddie." Y/N whispered, throwing her arms around him. "Do you want to go home now?"

"Yes, please." He murmured, taking her hand.

—------------------------------------------------------

They trudged through the doorway, both of them wearing a matching, weak smile.

"Freddie, what happened?" Brian gasped, his lips curling in a small frown.

"I'm going to bed." Freddie announced, disregarding Brian's question.

With that, he sauntered up the staircase.

The night slowly melted into day again. The copies of the newspaper had all "mysteriously disappeared" within a few days.

I wonder what happened.

A/N

I'm so f*cking angry at the judge. For more details, go and read the most recent chapter of Declarations of a Hopeless Romantic.