#she's wearing freddie's hoddie

[jellymanok]

tiktok cookie meme redraww (they're not long-distance she just misses her)

[iamnotbrianmay]

hey ho (here he goes)

Hey boys! So i have this short fic i am currently working on and I wanted to share it with you! Hope you enjoy! 

Brian has never in his life thought about murdering someone.

Not when Freddie had sold off half of his closet to buy himself a new pair of shoes. Not when Roger dumped a pot of coffee on his notebook, halfway through revision for his semester exam. Not when John had drunkenly thrown up in his room and then decided to let him perish from the smell.

But everyone is bound to break eventually, and it's no surprise that the first person Brian May wants to murder is an underaged child.

The gremlin in question is currently sat crying at the other end of the sofa, scissors in one hand and half of Brian's hair in the other. The guitarist has a hand hovering over his head. Close to the place his locks used to be. Space which is now empty.

He hasn't had the time to check at himself in the mirror, but he knows it's terrible by the sheer amount of hair, and the worrying amount of length, his little cousin is holding in her pudgy fists. He stares at her horrified, as she weeps her heart out, wailing about how she didn't know that snipping his hair with scissors would make it shorter.

His heart aches for the little runt. Yearning to hold her close and tell her that everything is going to be alright. It's just hair, nothing they can't fix. But his brain is going at a hundred miles per hour screaming about how his head feels wrong, wrong, wrong and it's only when he runs his fingers through his hair, and he feels how extremely short it is, that Brian's reality comes crashing down on him.

He bolts out of the living room and into the closest bathroom. His family members scream after him, worried about the fact that their boy just ran past them, shoving every person aside. He bursts into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror, doing his best not to cry. He is a twenty-eight-year-old man, in a rock band, with a best selling album which has been topping the charts for almost three weeks now. He can't start crying because of a hair cut.

But oh god, is short an understatement.

It's curling around his face in an unruly fashion, framing his face like a fucking cloud, and making him look ridiculous. One half of his hair is long a pretty, the other half looks like Brian's worst nightmare.

His mom bursts into the bathroom then, worried and with her hands covered in onion and mince. And as she sees her son, she lets out a soft gasp and covers her mouth, "Oh no, Brian, baby, what happened to you?"

Twenty-eight years of experience and hardships are not enough to keep him from bursting into tears the second after the words leave his mother's mouth. To Hell with it, he thinks, rockstars can also cry.

His appointment at the hair saloon went as incredible as anyone could have expected. Meaning it went like shit. Not only was his usual hairstylist, Gema, away for the holidays, but he also had to endure MTVs top fifty songs of the past ten years. List which contained an ungodly amount of Queen songs. Usually he would have been thrilled at the prospect, but at the moment it seemed like the world was laughing at his face as the video for Killer Queen (and his beautiful hair) was shown in the large television on the wall.

They tried to salvage as much of his hair as they could, which wasn't much, and sent him home with a bag of chemicals meant to help with the growth of his hair.

Everything felt so wrong now that he didn't have his hair. His neck had become so extremely sensitive to temperature, and he felt so naked with his ears out in the open. The one good thing about the whole ordeal was that absolutely nobody stopped Brian on his way home. Something that hadn't happened to him since before the release of A Night at the Opera.

The threw open the door to his house, glad to be happy for the first time that day, and rushed to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror, hand coming to tug at his now criminally short curls. God knows how long he stayed like that. Mouth agape, eyes wide, and hands running through his locks, tugging at them every so often.

Brian was so distracted by the turn of events he completely missed the sounds of his door unlocking and bickering. Everything seemed a thousand miles away, and he was only brought out by the sound of glass smashing. He turned around and stared at the offender, only to find his three best friends looking at him with wide eyes. Shards of the broken glass had flown everywhere, and by the position of Freddie's arm he could guess who had been holding it.

Brian thanked the gods for the fact that he had decided to wear a hoodie, and quickly scrambled to cover his hair, even if he knew it was of no use. They had seen it. They had seen what had happened and probably were thinking about how horrible he looked now. He looked like a little boy. Like one of those old pictures his father had of him scattered all over the living room. He must have looked like he had when Roger had first joined Smile, all afro and lack of confidence.  

Oh god, he had returned to being a teenager, hadn't he?

The first one to snap out of it is Freddie, he takes a step forward, mindful of the glass, and reaches out to Brian, "Oh darling, it looks amazing."

Brian nearly punches Freddie, "Of course it doesn't look amazing! It looks like shit! I look like shit. I want my hair back."

Yeah, he definetly is throwing a tantrum. John's expression softens, and just like Freddie he takes a step forward, "What are you talking about? You look cute, Bri. I promise."

"It was really brave of you to change your hairstyle after all this time."

"Not brave," Brian mumbles, tugging his hoddie even lower. "I didn't want to change it."

"What was that, darling?" Freddie asks, "I couldn't hear you."

"I wasn't the one that cut my hair," Brian repeats himself, then launches into his story about how his cousin had been playing with his hair. How she had been braiding it and 'making him pretty' and then how she had cut a chunk of it out. Nothing he could do about it, not a choice he made. Freddie and John looked like they were seconds away from wrapping Brian in a gigantic blanket and helping him plan his cousin's murder. Roger on the other hand was still staring at him dumbfounded.

Was it really that bad? Had his cousin messed up so badly that now Roger, person who Brian had slowly but surely tried to woo, thought he looked hideous. He buried his head in his hands, no longer wanting to see the incredulous expressions on his friends' faces, or Roger's disgust. Because, of course, Brian May hardly ever did something half assed. If he was going to look ugly, he might as well look ugly enough for Roger to realise that Brian wasn't worth his time.

John and Freddie grabbed Brian and lead him out of the bathroom, making him sit down in the living room and bringing over a glass of water while the guitarist wallowed in hate and pity. He watched as they fussed around the house, bringing him blankets, food, his laptop and some crappy movies. Everything to make him feel alright. But nothing was working. Not really.

All he could see were Roger's eyes, and imagine as his best friend took him to a restaurant and very gently let him down. "I'm sorry Brian. I know we have been flirting for a few months, and I know that we had even considered becoming something but I don't think we can do this anymore."

That was his inevitable fate, wasn't it? He was going to lose everything he had worked so hard to get because of a fucking haircut, and dear lord he might actually go insane if that does happen. He is so lost in thought he doesn't notice the small fight John, Freddie, and Roger have, or when the brunettes leave, he only gets pulled out of his head when Brian feels a callused hand touching his cheek, and when he looks up, he is met with two beautiful baby blue eyes. They look large and bright eyelashes framing them. He trails his eyes over Roger's features, his button nose, his lovely lips, and finally his beautiful, long, blonde hair.

Roger is so unfairly pretty that it felt like someone had punched the air out of him every time he gets to look at the blonde.

"Hey," Roger pressed their foreheads together, "you got lost in your head again."

Brian swallowed, "Sorry."

"Don't be," the blond answered, "what happened to you must have felt horrible." Brian nodded, making his nose bump Roger's. The younger boy giggled, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There is nothing to talk about," Brian shrugged, "I just guess I'll have to deal with looking like this until it grows back."

"I think it's cute."

"Roger."

"I mean it!"

"I look like—" he stopped himself, unsure of what he looked like exactly, "I look horrible."

"No you don't." The blonde insists, "You look like you did when we first met."

"That's why."

There is a second of silence in which Roger is looking at him like he can't quite understand what Brian is saying. Then he pulls away. He feels Roger shift until the younger boy is basically straddling him, then he feels Roger's hands on his cheeks again, "Brian May, are you telling me that you believe you are not the prettiest person alive?"

Brian made a face, "What kind of question is that? Of course I don't think I'm the prettiest person alive."

"Well, that has to change."

Brian can't help but feel like he is a teenager all over again with Roger in his lap. They are both pouting and being silly. Two internationally recognised rock stars, on the couch, acting like love struck teenagers. He feels Roger's finger slide from his cheeks to the nape of his neck and Brian has to suppress a shiver.

"Can I take this off?"

Brian stares at the drummer for a few seconds, trying to find the tiniest amount of mischief in his eyes. Trying to see if Roger would laugh as soon as the hood was out of the way. But the blonde was looking at Brian as if he had hung the moon and the stars. As if he is the prettiest creature on earth. The guitarist nods hesitantly.

He feels the soft fabric of his hood uncover his face. Feels the air of the room hit the back of his neck. And sees as Roger lets out a sigh at the sight of Brian's curly hair, "Beautiful."

Maybe Brian's disbelief shines in his eyes.

"You are beautiful, baby." He presses their foreheads together again, "Absolutely stunning."

The kiss is unexpected, but most certainly not unwelcome. Brian is frozen for a couple of seconds before he lets himself be kissed.

Okay I have a very important question for you all! Would you like the next chapter to be smut or fluff? Cause I got ideas for both. 

tell me if you want to be added to the tag list! 

Official Artwork for this fic is this lovely piece made by my girl rose ( @riveter-rose), go give her some love!