relentless face

HyLink Fic Preview: What Blooms in Darkness

Hey guys, so @redprincessofdawn came up with the best headcanon ever?? Basically the idea was that the goddess Hylia posed as a young woman under the alias ‘Zelda’ that attended to the first inarnation of Link when he was imprisoned, as depicted in the manga. Over time, they become sweet on each other because I’m a hopeless romantic. And since I’m utter trash for these two and loved her idea, I started writing a fic. I’m sorry this took so long? I always take forever, just thought I’d leave this here to give people a little preview and confirm that I am indeed working on it.

Not so subtly tags @notsosilentprincess , thank you for your support as well I hope you look forward to the full fic!

If anybody else wants to be tagged for the full fic, feel free to let me know!


Hazy azure eyes followed the slow trickle of water seeping along the worn grooves of mortar, a siren song weaving between mold and bricks stained a darker red. Long ago the sight might have made him bite his chapped lips, straining against the chains in desperation. Instead he attempted to swallow against the sandpaper of his tongue, averting his eyes as he forced his breathing to slow. With what little energy he could spare he strained to look up at the heavens, the raw ache of his wrists and ankles no longer drawing a pained hiss as his head fell back. Were there stars above, gracing the children of Hylia with their twinkling courage as they drowned in a similar darkness? Or would the sky be the color of his mother’s eyes? A blue so soft and bright it made him long for the summers before he became a knight, dozing beneath the sky beside their little abode in the woods.

Too soon his limbs collapsed, the harsh clang of his chains filling the enclosed chamber. A sigh clouded in the low draft that carried winter’s chill, eliciting a mindless shudder as goosebumps alighted across his exposed flesh. Whether a blessing or a curse, it dulled his wounds enough to help him think clearly. It was the reason why he could now sense the elegant footsteps descending the longest staircase in the fortress, sharp with haste and slowing every so often with fatigue. Funny thing—that slip of a girl—always in a hurry to see him. For what, he could never fathom. He was little more than she, a disgraced knight with nothing but shame staining his hands.

Finally the door opened with a slight creak, the newly replaced obstruction already suffering in the dampness as it closed behind her with an answering groan. The tray in her arms trembled as she began to shiver, small puffs following in her wake as she clattered her way to his motionless form. His head was still bowed; weak and unwilling to face the pleading concern in her gaze when he refused to partake. It was enough to suffer her insistent stare, boring into his skull coupled with a misery that made her voice hoarse with unshed tears. He never understood the depth of her despair at the sight of him; why she spoke as though she were the one bruised and bloody.

He didn’t want her pity. What had befallen him had been his own fault. Where he thought his people would see reason, they were blinded by envy.

“Sir Link,” She began, as she always did. “You should try to eat.”

Her answer came in the myriad, grating sounds of doors being wrenched open throughout the fortress.

She tried again, and he could feel the heat emanating from afar in the small space as she stepped closer. “You must regain your strength.”

He could hear the water lapping at the sides of the waterskin she held it inches from his face, but besides the twitching of his fingers, he didn’t move.

“Please,” The whisper urged, “At this rate you’ll die.” She grew louder with each word, voice hoarse and cracking midway under the weight of her own thoughts.

He stifled a dry cough of a laugh, exhausted and bitter.

After a long, obstinate moment the routine was sure to come; he would hear her sigh as she placed the tray by his feet, waiting for the telltale scrape of the one left behind long before leaving with her. And what little peace he had come to make with his fate would return as soon as the door closed behind her and her footsteps faded, mercifully anesthetized by the relative silence she left in her wake.

He flinched when frigid, trembling fingers brushed the nape of his neck instead, adjusting a scrap of white cloth to cover as much of his exposed flesh as possible. When she was satisfied after a few tugs, her tiny hands retreated and curled around each other before they disappeared from his line of sight, a relieved sigh her only explanation. Only then did she move to exit the room, the audible clatter of teeth chattering and shudders wracking her small frame amplified in the empty space.

“Why?” He managed to croak, her hand freezing inches away from the door.

“I wanted to,” She eventually replied, voice soft. “It’s freezing down here.”

He pursed his lips, frowning. He would have expressed further disapproval had there not been an undertone of steel in her answer, a fierce insistence on his behalf unlike anything he’d ever known. Though her motive remained unclear, one thing was certain—she was being honest. Whether by a whim or some notion of compassionate obligation, she had done this of her own volition.

Before he could ask her further she departed, his head rising on its own to catch naught but a glimpse of a white dress and long, flaxen hair bathed in the glow of the torchlight. She seemed to be a peasant girl—as most prison attendants were—of simple dress and station. So what reason could she possibly have to help him? Had somebody bribed her? No, the thought was immediately amended, she stood too tall and seemed too stalwart for that. Though the hands around his neck had been dainty and clean, despite the cold peeling away at her fingers. Anything she had suffered was notably recent, no scars lining the expanse of her pale skin. A noblewoman in disguise, perhaps? It would explain why he had never seen her once in the Hylian settlement.

The night was spent wracking his brain as to the identity of the strange girl determined to aide him—even at the risk of her own imprisonment for treason, his once detached mien eluding him as curiosity took hold. When sleep finally took him he dreamed of the fields of wildflowers he often visited as a young boy, chasing the lazy bumblebees weaving among the stems—reminiscent of the scent that would cling to his neck long after she disappeared.


“You waste your efforts on a disgraced knight,” He murmured wearily before she even crossed the room to him. It was her fifth attempt—this time toting a fresh pastry—to coax him into eating, the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet filling blooming from her form. The scent wafted to where he was chained, a low gust of air behind the door carrying it across the room. His fingers twitched.

“I don’t see any disgraced knights here.” She replied calmly back, unperturbed as always as she approached his form.

He scoffed, though his voice was hollow. There was no anger or indictment to punctuate it’s cadence; only frank apathy. “Then you are mistaken or misinformed. Surely you were witness to the trials,”

“All I witnessed was the public humiliation of a good man. No more, no less.” Her words flowed so easily as she set down the tray that he almost believed them. “And I’m certain I’m not the only one who thinks so. Lord Dagianis may be a cunning man, but he is neither noble nor courageous. He will fall before the flowers bloom with the call of spring, and the people will be in desperate need of a hero when the Demon King rises again.”

He blinked at her bewitching insistence, her strange eloquence. Was this woman truly a peasant girl? Or even a disguised noble, for that matter? Everything about her opposed the notion. She did not cower, her speech was not broken and uncertain. Her wit was sharp and complex, but also unabashed and willful. Her presence was so compelling, invigorating; her prediction more akin to a prophecy than an offhand observation. Every word tugged at his numbed senses, peeling back his reasons for becoming a knight in the first place—why he’d accepted the title hero with grudging yet hopeful determination. The face of the priestess who relayed the divine message of his hero status surfaced, the faces of all the children who followed him excitedly to the outpost on their way to school, chattering away with relentless curiosity. The faces of his mother and father—long since departed and with Hylia—and the unsatisfied flame within him burning to make them proud. The statue of the goddess herself imbued with the strangest aura as he stood before it, gentle words steering him forward on the path the gods had evidently paved for him. How had he lost sight of all of those things in his time here? Would he really be satisfied, cowering here in the dark, simply because his people doubted him? Was he meant for more, or was it his destiny to rot in this prison? Did he care if it was? He felt even more confused than before.

He let out a low laugh, raising his head for the first time to lance her in place with a cold look—pale eyes frosting over. “Even if I was the hero of prophecy, what makes you so certain I wasn’t the one who killed them? What if Lord Dagianis was right?”

She gazed at him, deadpan, before walking up to stuff the pastry in his mouth. When he made a muffled sound of scandalized protest, she merely shrugged. “Just in case you were going to spout anymore nonsense. Don’t be absurd, anybody that knows you knows you would never do such a thing.” She finished, pulling off what was left of the pastry as he chewed and swallowed.

“And what could you possibly know of me?” He shot back, irate.

She met his glare with a vehement one of her own, before she sighed. “Henry.”

His brows furrowed, unable to make out what she said. “What?”

“I was curious,” She rubbed her arm and looked away, worrying her lip. “So I asked around, and eventually people pointed me to Henry. He said you were both stationed at the same outpost for a long time.” His eyes widened before he sagged into the chains, deflating. He began to laugh, the sound stolen from him at the thought of his best friend’s gushing. A rueful smile crossed his lips as he remember how long it took to convince the young man not to storm the court room on his behalf.

“That dolt. He spilled everything didn’t he?” He shook his head. “No wonder you kept trying. He’s convinced I’m going to save the settlement.”

“He was very convincing,” The light sound of a giggle shocked him, his head snapping up to find a brilliant smile on her face. “I believe him.” She murmured, voice soft.

A Fusion of Their Own

This was a story I wrote based on @jearwork‘s Lapidot comic which was actually based on @distractednerd‘s Lapidot au. Full circle I guess. Enjoy

If you want a fan fic of your own, message me and I will tell you my prices for a commission.


Peridot started to chew on the rubber covering over her steering wheel. Her animalistic choppers relentless bit into the face of the Cookie Cats printed on it, completely ignoring the fact that the cover was a present from Steven.

 The traffic was unyielding and it seemed like Peridot’s care moved half an inch every hour and less than a centimeter every half an hour. She peered over the hoods of the field of cars in front of her and she could swear that the cars eclipsed the horizon at the end of the freeway.

 “Traffic. Traffic! TRAFFIC! Grrrraaaaaaaaw!” Peridot tore a chunk of the plastic cover and upon realizing she did so started to calm down a bit, at least enough to return to human decency.  

 She looked down at her watch for what was the hundredth time in a single hour. Not time passed since the last time she check it—a few seconds ago.

 Just then, thankfully, a few minutes and a few cars that had enough traffic later, Peridot was finally able to reach speed above 2 mph. She could see the tip of the building in the distance now. But as she saw the blue of the ocean fusing with the blue of the sky ahead, Peridot hit another wall of cars.

 Traffic was the bane of Peridot’s existence on a regular day, but on a day that took precedents over the others traffic suddenly became Peridot’s mortal enemy for life. She started to break out in a nervous sweat. She flipped on the radio, turning it up high, flipping the air conditioning settings from low to high and then high to low randomly, and she tried not to look down at her watch no matter how powerful the urge. Sadly Peridot’s will was weak and when she saw that another minute had passed she took out her cellphone and called the first number. She jumped in her seat as the phone rung.

 Garnet answered. “Hello…” She didn’t expect to finish her sentence knowing that Peridot was about to interrupt her anyway.

 “IS IT TIME?!”

 “Nice to get a call from you too, Peridot,” Garnet teased, coolly.

 “Don’t give me your sass, Fusion,” said Peridot, calling Garnet the nickname she gave her. “Are your Moms there already?”

 “My Moms got this handled. It’s going to be fine, just get here.”

 “Rrrrr—I can’t. Traffic’s a pain—AGAIN! It’s going to be at least another half hour.” Peridot cradled her phone gently, worried beyond belief. “How is she?”

 “She’s strong, Peridot, you of all people should know that.” Garnet smirked behind the phone. Peridot blushed and hung up the phone knowing exactly what she meant.

 Peridot threw the cellphone, hard, into the seat and then as it thudded against the ground she instantly regretted throwing it. She strained herself to get it back.

 Shortly after Peridot loudly declared war on all people who created traffic the cars began to move and she was finally out of the freeway and on to the normal streets. The hills surrounding Beach City were at her sides and it wouldn’t be long until Peridot was at her destination. And with no cop cars within sight, she floored the gas petal to bridge that last few miles before the city, but the golden shores of her home city weren’t her destination. Peridot threw her steering wheel to the left and her car nearly toppled over with the force of it to get out on the first exit towards.

 “Oh thank you, Traffic Gods, I won’t ever say anything bad about you!” Peridot prayed as she saw a street in front of her devoid of any cars.

 She finally saw it, the glow of the red cross she’s been praying to see since she left the library. The hospital! Peridot nearly ran over someone crossing the sidewalk to get inside. After throwing her coat inside, losing one of her shoes in the parking lot, and not even locking the car behind her, Peridot made it inside. Rushing into the lobby she found Steven and Connie sitting together.

 “STEVEN! CONNIE!” Peridot screamed, startling them. She dashed to Steven and grabbed a hold of him, shaking him. “How is she? Is she okay? What happened? How is she? Wait I just asked that. TELL ME!”

 “Peridot, calm down!” Steven shouted over her screams. “Lapis is just fine. Grandma Ruby and Grandma Sapphire are helping her out.”

 “Yeah, and my mom’s the doctor for her, so you know she’ll be in good hands,” said Connie.

 Peridot collapsed on her knees, her legs weak. “Oh thank the stars.”

 “Here, Steven, I got you some ice cream from that tricky vending machine,” Garnet said, giving him and Connie a bar of Cookie Cat before noticing Peridot at her thigh-level. “Oh, hello Peridot. Good of you to drop by.”

 “Oh can it, Fusion.”

 “You came at a good time. I bet you a dollar Lapis will be ready rrrrrriiiiiiight…now.”

 A loud clopping sound was heard and it grew louder as it approached. Pearl ran the corner, haggard. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were wide open as if they had never blinked before, and her clothes were ruffled beyond redemption. She held herself against the wall as she panted.

 “Everyone! Peridot! Oh thank goodness you’re here. It’s time!” Pearl squawked.

 Steven and Connie shrieked with joy while Peridot was numb, dumbfounded. It was up to them and Garnet to push her lifeless body towards the room of the OR.

 There were busy people going by, all in lab coats. Before going inside, Peridot was given a little wrist cuff as a Visitor. When they were let in they saw Doctor Maheswaran, looking very busy with doctor duties staring intently into a clipboard.

 “Mom,” said Connie.

 “Hello dear,” said the doctor, not even looking up for a moment. “There’s the guest of honor. I take it you were stuck in traffic.”

 “How is she?” Peridot asked; it was all she cared about.

 “Why don’t you look for yourself?” Doctor Maheswaran held the door for them.

 The whithered and tiny Sapphire and Ruby, along with an Amethyst bouncing with joy unable to contain herself, and a sleeping Greg on the coach near the door, surrounded Lapis in the hospital bed. The hairs of her ocean blue hair were dripping with sweat and they stuck to her cheeks. She was barely able to stay awake, her eyelids too heavy for her, but when she saw Peridot at the door, Lapis did her best to stay awake.

 “Hey, ‘bout time you got here,” Lapis sighed.

 Peridot ran into the room, startling Greg awake. “What the—? Who? Peridot?”

 “Hey dad,” said Steven.

 Ruby and Sapphire cleared the way for Peridot. She threw her arms around Lapis.

 “Lapis! You’re okay.” Her eyes started to water.

 “This wasn’t our first rodeo you know,” said Ruby.

 “You should always leave it to the professionals,” said Sapphire. The two grandmothers gave each other a kiss.

 “You know, Peridot, there’s someone who wants to meet you,” said Lapis.

 With a weak hand she pointed to Amethyst. She was burying her face into the small blanket before racing to Peridot.

“Congrats, P,” grinned Amethyst. “She’s some looker. Just like her moms.”

 A blanket softer than clouds cradled a baby inside. Her face looked soft, delicate as if s single touch suddenly could make a crack appear and as Amethyst handed the baby to Peridot, she reacted as if the baby would break in her hands. Peridot was stiff holding her. The baby was lighter than anything Peridot ever lifted and yet Peridot’s hands were locked up as if she held a thousand pounds of weight. The baby with puffy, pink cheeks like bubblegum was restless, poking her head out of the suffocating blankets and revealing her green with blue ends hair to Peridot. Peridot’s heart skipped a beat.

 She looked to Lapis, then at everyone else in the room, and then back to the baby she held, extremely lost.

 “How long should we wait before we wake her?” Greg joked.

 “Peridot, meet Turquoise, your daughter,” said Lapis.

 The baby stirred at the mention of her name. Her little hands grabbed the ends of her blanket and pushed with all her baby strength to get it off her. She finally opened her eyes; small dots of a green-blue hue stared at Peridot’s bright green eyes.

 The flood gates burst and Peridot’s eyes swelled with tears at a record speed. She held Turquoise to her face and pressed the little one’s cheeks against she cheeks: she was so warm. The baby made a small chirp, softer than a bird, and Peridot whimpered.

 “I love her so much!” Peridot wailed.

 Everyone in the room hugged Peridot on both ends.

 Doctor Maheswaran smiled as she closed to door. On the side, she could hear the explosion of sound go off as everyone rushed for their turn to hold the newborn Turquoise next. She heard Peridot snaring like a defensive cat to fight them off.

Okay but let’s talk about Laura Moon tho. She represents a struggle that so many people face, the relentless mundanity of life, the kind of boredom so endless you would actually rather be dead then repeat another day of your repetitive life. She never travelled, she never explored, we don’t see any family or a lot of friends, she just had the house she’s always known and the job she’s had for a decade, she had a life that no one would want to live. Of course you don’t condone her behaviour and you’re not suppose to, but god please feel some sympathy for her the woman’s a corpse trying to make amends for her life (I hope that’s where they’re going with it we don’t know yet)

anonymous asked:

Dark trying,and failing to keep a straight face/not giggle or chuckle even a little bit when Wilford's mustache tickles when Will kisses him. Bubblegum boy is absolutely smitten

ah my heart 💘 just wilford being relentless and peppering dark’s face with kisses and dark keeps trying to push him away but wilford doesn’t stop until dark at least smiles. typically wilford succeeds and rubs it in dark’s face after.

Jaehyungparkian; Backspace

It’s hard, being apart for so long. The distance digs a gap in their relationship and sometimes it just seems too wide to overcome, like Brian would fall right down into it if he ever tried jumping over, but they’re trying to make things work. And it is working. Mostly. At least when Brian doesn’t fuck up. Like now.

(Or, Brian has been trying to come home for a long time now. Jae just keeps waiting.)

Sequel to Screen Talk, which you can read here on Tumblr or here on Ao3.

Read on Ao3 for better formatting. 


The crowd is still screaming by the time Brian makes his way out of the stage.

He stumbles his way to the end of the concert hall, waves one last goodbye to the fans, and then stumbles down the stairs leading backstage. Someone hands him a towel, pats him on the back in congratulations after another show well done. Brian makes an effort to give a small nod in thanks, too tired to muster up a real smile. He pats his forehead clean of sweat, swipes his bangs away from where they’re plastered uncomfortably against his skin, and tries hard not to collapse against the wall in exhaustion.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I hope that Cait stops by to thank you for all your efforts in promoting OL (seriously, Startz should have added you to the payroll rather than dropping obvious Anons!) and WCC. That was a great fundraiser that yourself, Julia and Lauren spearheaded last year. I'm a neutral and watching the courage of shippers in the face of relentless bullying kept me involved in the fandom when I came close to walking away because of all the fuckery over the past 12 months.

You’re sweet anon! I’m so glad you stuck around 💗💗

Brendon Urie Imagine- I’m the New Cancer

“Can I request teen!Brendon?!?! Like maybe a highschool AU or something? Start off hating each other and well you can decide where it goes?”

[Author’s note! Sure thing sweetie! Thanks for the request! This is going to be a fun one to write. I am excited.I am also making this a pre-imagine for one that I wrote awhile back called Composition!] 

You never knew the devil had a name until you met Brendon. High school was going fine, you finally felt comfortable in your own shoes, until one day you had an unfortunate run in with the devil himself. 

You were already running late for class as it is. A series of poor decisions got you there. When you finally stumble into the school, you are welcomed by a crowded hallway and no familiar faces in sight. Rule of thumb, you keep your friends limited in school and you glide your way through it. You were able to make it through a large portion of school too going unnoticed until the local boy wonder decided to make it his goal in life to give you chest pain. 

He is a full blow douche to say the least. And this wasn’t just a passing phase, oh no. It’s his full time job to make you feel as awkward and uncomfortable as physically possible.  Surely a level opposition that is worthy of a mention in the record books of cliche high school bullies. 

Nevertheless, you were late and eager to get to your class. You have a reputation to uphold, and being on time is included. You eye the door up and cringe as you see him leaning against the wall right next to the classroom you need to be in. He looks so carefree standing there, his hand shoved into the pockets of his skinny jeans. That bastard. Quickly you try to devise a plan on how you can avoid him seeing you, but every plan seems to be a bust. Of course he has to stand in the one spot that is inescapable. Even more reason to hate him. You decide to dodge the bullet and just go for it, hoping that he won’t recognize you. Preparing for disaster, you clutch your books tightly to your chest and bow your head to avoid eye contact. With each passing step, you dread that inevitable encounter. 

For a moment when you don’t hear that conceited voice of his call out your name, you think you have made it fast enough to avoid the whole ordeal. To your misfortune a ratty pair of black converse step into your field of vision and you are bound to be late for class now. You were so damn close. 

“Hello there, dollface.” He chuckles through that insolent tone of his that makes you want to run the other direction. “To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

You find yourself retracting into yourself as he takes a step closer. You wish you had never run into him in the first place, you don’t even want to know his name. But of course you do. How could you not? With his dark hair and muddy eyes that could melt anyones heart, he has that quality that any cocky bad guy has. Intimidatingly attractive. And deservedly so, if you can get past the lack of a heart. 

“Move it Urie. I am just trying to get to class.” you attempt to push past him. As tempting as it is to look up and see his reaction, you can’t muster up the courage to give them that kind of pleasure. 

Instead of letting you go by, he moves with you in one swift movement. He makes a better door than a human in your opinion. 

“That eager to get to class are we?” he leans against the door frame. That jerk has the nerve to make it look so easy to push someone’s buttons. “Can’t be late now isn’t that right?”

“Something you have never understood the concept of.” 

With a sudden gust of attitude, you manage to glare at him. That exact look you imagined plastered on his face is there, eyebrows cocked and all. 

“Shots fired. That really hurt (y/n).” his hand dramatically rubs his chest as if it signals his pain. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”

If you rolled your eyes any harder they would have rolled right out of your head. Sure it might have been overkill but this kid really got on your nerves. How you ever managed to get along with his friend Ryan was a mystery. 

“Mr. Urie! Get to class!” the teachers yells and you inwardly thank the gods. 

He throws his hands in the air defensively and moves out of the way, letting you escape your nightmare. With a smug grin you  push past him, slipping him the finger behind your back. 

“When you decide to have a little fun, you know where to find me!” he calls out heading down the hallway. 

No way in hell that was happening. 

“What was that all about?” you friend asks you as you sit down exasperated from the encounter. 

“My worst nightmare, that’s what.” you sigh. 


It’s seventh period, which means its both your favorite and least favorite part of the day. Your favorite because it is your independent music study. Your least favorite because you have to be in the same room as Brendon for a whole hour. Gross. At least you can lock yourself in a practice room and forget about him. 

When you stumble into the band room and realize he is the only one in there, you curse to yourself and turn to head the opposite direction. Unfortunately for you, you caught his attention right away. 

“Have somewhere to be?” 

Shit. Your jaw clenches and your entire body grows stiff as you turn around to face him. 

“No. I just couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a room with you. I wouldn’t want to catch a disease or something.”  you wave him off digging through a pile of mixed up sheet music. 

“Ouch. Two hits in one day. I must be rubbing off on you.” 

That comment really got you bubbling. The fact that he would even take the credit for your witty comments makes you want to punch him. And it takes every ounce of self control not to just go up to him and give him one. But he would get too much joy out of that. So instead you grab your sheet music and make a mad dash past him. Luck was not in your favor. 

In a fit of your clumsiness your music falls off your binder and scatters all over the floor. You frantically attempt to pick it up. Brendon chuckles at the sight of your cheeks glowing brightly in embarrassment. He knows the kind of effect he has on you, and you hate yourself for letting him know. 

“Classical huh? What kind of sheet music is this anyway? You don’t strike me as the piano type.” he snorts as he picks up a few of the stray sheets. His expression reveals confusion and a hint of interest.

“You wouldn’t know if real music hit you in the face Urie.” you spit. 

“You don’t even know what I do. Give it a chance, you might end up liking it.”

“In your dreams.” you manage to keep your voice steady as you reply.

“Your loss sweetheart!” he shrugs as you lock yourself in the soundproof practice room. At least he can’t hear or see you for the next hour. 

The time passes quickly, and soon you find yourself having to put down your instrument and have to face the relentless punk rocker once again. Silently praying that he is already gone, your hopes are crushed when his voice rings out. You jump at the sudden interaction.

“A little jumpy today aren’t we?” he retorts, a smug grin pulling at his lips. 

“Mind your own business would ya pretty boy?” you say trying to sneak away from him for the third time today. 

“So you think I’m pretty, Huh?” he shoots you a devilish glare that could melt a heart. 

“Something has to make up for you being such a douche.” you hiss.

You wait for him to reply in his usual manor, but for the first time ever, he has nothing to say. There is no gnomic reply, just silence. Have you just outwitted the master at his own game? You thought this feeling would be more exciting, finally having the guts to give it right back to him. But as his jaw tenses and eyes droop into what could mistakenly be seen as sadness, you almost feel like you were too harsh. Until you remember how awful he was to you just this morning. 

“Bye.” you murmur as you shuffle your sheet music into a folder. 

Was Brendon Urie, your biggest offender, actually upset that you called him a douche? Does it really matter? Yet somehow you find a guilty feeling rising in your chest and you actually regret saying it. 

“Hey (y/n), something the matter?” your friend Ryan asks leaning against the locker next to yours. 

Snapping back to reality, your focus shifts to Ryan. He knows about the way Brendon treats you and he apologizes  for it every day. How he even gets along with Brendon in the first place is a mystery. 

“Oh nothing. What’s up?” you stutter. He gives you a confused look but waves off your awkward response. 

“Well I was doing a little writing lately. I was hoping you would do me a big favor.” 

“What would this favor be?” 

“One of the songs I wrote, I really want some cello in the band. I was hoping you would take a look at it and drop by a rehearsal one time.” 

Knowing very well that Brendon would be at that rehearsal, this is an extremely big favor to ask. But Ryan has been a good friend of ours for a long time, and you wanted to see him succeed. 

“You are lucky we are friend’s Ross.” you sigh heavily as he hands over a pile of sheet music. 

“What would I do without you! See you tomorrow at the bar?” he laughs.

“I suppose you will.” 


The sun is starting to set as you walk down the deserted sidewalk of downtown. With your cello strapped on your back, you make your way down to the run down bar that the keyboard players dad owns. It is nice of him to let them use that space as a rehearsal area before hours. You take a deep breath before entering, knowing that this could potentially be the most grueling two hours of your life. 

“Hey!” you hear that harrowing voice that you dread. 

Perhaps if you just ignore him he won’t push considering yesterday’s events. But as you start to unpack your things you can hear him getting closer. Oh god. 

“You know what, I am doing your band a favor so why don’t you do me a favor and leave me alone.” you warn, not letting him even test your patience. 

Your answer is short and to the point. If only your voice wasn’t so unintimidating that you actually sound like a little kid trying defend themselves. But no use in backing down now. 

“No! I was just…” he stumbles on his words, reaching for the right thing to say. This is the second time in two days that you have done this. Maybe he was right, maybe he is rubbing off on you. 

You look at him with uninterested eyes waiting for him to respond. A faint blush creeps on his cheeks and he looks flustered. 

“Shit.” he mumbles, hoping you wouldn’t hear it. But you did. 

You shoot him a concoction of confused and annoyed glares as you carefully remove your cello from its case. Ryan calls for Brendon and he almost looks hurt as he walks away up to the stage. They begin with a punchy number about a strip club and a lap dance. Figures. He looks so confident up there, the way he dances around. And those vocals. Wow. He almost looks human for a moment. Wait no, you can’t be thinking about that. 

“Alright, you have the sheet music for I write sins?” Ryan calls. 

With a nod you head up to the stage and take a seat in the chair right between Ryan and Brendon. As if it wasn’t bad enough just to share a stage with him, you had to be sitting right next to him. You gently pluck the stings and Brendon joins in. He stares in awe at you as actually play the notes, but you are too busy getting lost in the music to notice. You take in the sound, so beautiful and pure. 

“Technically our marriage is saved!” he sings. 

As the song finishes, you realize that he is watching you geek out. A blush creeps up as you look away and shuffle through your music to find the next song. Why won’t he stop looking at you? 

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to stare?” you seethe, taking your stance to play the next song. 

The next song is a beautifully surprising song about the tragedy that is an affair. For just being a high school band, the lyrics are really deep. Secretly, you love bringing your musical element to such a raw sounding band, but you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. A quick musical interlude, it is now your time to shine. The hearty sound of your cello fills the room and you completely loose yourself for just a moment. It truly is a beautiful composition and everyone in the room feels it. 

When you know it is time for Brendon to come back in, you back down your sound but he doesn’t join in. Instead he stands there, too occupied in watching you to even realize that he was supposed to sing. 

“Hold up guys. Earth to Brendon? Isn’t that your cue?” you chortle in satisfaction. 

“Um,  five minute water break.” he stammers as he heads off the stage. He’s acting so weird today. 

Despite your inner conscious telling yourself to run away, you find yourself meeting him at the water table. He has already downed half a bottle. 

“What’s the matter Urie? Cat’s got your tongue?” you tease, hoping to strike a nerve. 

“Just shut up.” he snaps. His words giving you all the more reason to bush his buttons. 

“What did you just say?” 

“You heard me. I said shut up!” 

HIs piercing eyes flash to you and you stare right back. Two evenly revved up people standing face to face, and you wanted to come out on top. Not willing to back down, you decide you will give him the opportunity to explain himself if he can manage. 

“Alright. “ you reply, crossing your arms tightly over your chest expecting a damn good explanation. “Give it to me.” 

“Fine.” he hesitates, almost expecting you to walk away. “What you said yesterday. You were right. I am a douche.  But.” 

He shifts his weight to one hip, kicking his foot a little, like he is at a loss of words, and it feels astounding. He, Brendon, can’t even come up with a decent reason as to why he is such an ass. You have finally won. You are just about to say something, but he holds a finger over your lips and stops you. 

“Ah-ah-ah!” he scolds.

“Alright.” he stars again once he knows you aren’t going to interrupt him. “But, I have this huge crush on you and that’s why.” 

What the hell just happened? Unable, or unwilling to even register what he is saying, you walk back over to your seat and pluck around on your cello. With wide eyes and flustered cheeks, you shutter as he takes his stance next to you at the mic. You can’t even look at him as he stands there singing into the microphone about screwing some girl. Was he being serious? His words say one thing, but his stature says it all. It’s still not a valid excuse to make your life a living hell though. Most people when they like someone, try to make them feel good. Brendon does the exact opposite. 

As the rehearsal draws to a close, you plan to sneak out of there without having to exchange another word with him. With a brisk pace and quick feet, you manage to pack up your stuff and you are almost out the door when he is back at it again. 

“Wait!”he chases after you. “You don’t just get to walk out on me!” 

“Really? Because after the hell you have put me through I am pretty sure I do!” 

“That is so not fair! I barely got two words in!” he whines like a little child. 

“Life isn’t fair Urie!” 

“Just. Wait.” his hand clasps around your wrist so that you can’t escape. You would be lying if you said the physical contact didn’t turn your stomach in knots. “I’ll be in the band room second period. If you want to give me a second chance, I’ll be there.” 

You tug your arm away and walk in the opposite direction. You can feel his gaze burning into your back as you walk away, and you dare not look back. What kind of drugs was this boy on? The entire walk home you try to think about something else, but all that comes to mind is Brendon’s preposition. Does he deserve a second chance? Definitely not! But something deep inside you wants to give him one, or at least another opportunity to explain himself better. Why are you even considering this?


It’s now the morning and you wake up refreshed and ready to go back to school. Looking through your closet, you sift through and try to find your best outfit. Why, you don’t even know, because you weren’t going to meet with him. But there was still a chance of bumping into him, and you wanted to show him everything that he wants and can’t have. 

All through first period, you keep looking at the clock. Your knees bounce and you can’t seem to find the ability to concentrate. Are you really even contemplating giving him the time of day? It would mean skipping class! How would you explain that one to your parents? Yet when the bell rings, you find your feet carrying you to the band room instead of the math room where you are supposed to be. As you near the room, you can hear the familiar interlude that was played over a recording yesterday at the band’s rehearsal. This time, it’s being played on a piano. It sounds beautiful and flawlessly played, making you wonder if Brendon is alone?

“What am I getting myself into?” you mumble before walking into the band room. 

He is sitting with his back toward the door, at the grand piano. His hands are wandering around the keys as he sways back and forth gently. You almost can’t believe that he is the same person. He’s wearing that maroon shirt that looks so good on him and that same pair or skinny jeans that… wait. 

No. No. No. What are you thinking!? 

“Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?” he chuckles, not even turning from the piano. Does he have eyes in the back of his head or something?

“No. I just.. was.. listening to you play.” you recover from being caught off guard. 

“Like what you hear?” he peers over his shoulder. 

“I just didn’t know you could play like that?” 

“Except I wouldn’t know if real music hit me in the face.” he smirks. 

Those lips pull and you feel those butterflies in your stomach start to fly around. Cut it out. You take a few steps closer to the piano and he has a full blown smile, and he looks happy. 

“Don’t get too excited.” He pats the piano bench next to him. You cautiously take a seat and try to avoid any contact again. It would be too hard to pull away. 

For the next half hour, he becomes like an open book. He talks about his friends, his family, and his music. You didn’t plan on staying that long, but something about those kind words and that toothy grin keeps you drawn into the conversation. 

“It isn’t easy you know. Being like me?” you say just above a whisper. “Being the perfect studious person isn’t all that it seems like it is.” 

He smiles at you, starting to see that unexpected hidden side of you that secretly hates being the perfect little girl. There go the butterflies again. Just as you start to relax, his knee brushes against yours and you tense up again. This brings his smile back, he stills knows how to control you. 

He can tell you are starting to build up your wall again that he had just started to break down. So the conversation changes to music again. He talks about his favorite band and you talk about yours and surprisingly your tastes in music are very similar. Could he possibly be not that bad of a person? 

“How did you get into the cello?” he asks. 

“I don’t know. My mother thought I needed something to do as a kid, so she put me in cello lessons.” you shrug, trying to be as vague as possible. 

“But why not piano?” 

“I really don’t know. Too mainstream I guess.” you let out a sincere laugh. 

The bells rings and you know you have to leave. Part of you didn’t want to though, which is extremely alarming. But you couldn’t justify missing two periods. 

“I guess that is my cue to go.” you sigh. 

“Can I walk you to your next class?” 

You contemplate the pros and cons of this situation. Sure he’s been a really class A jerk to you for the past three years and everyone would look at your weird. But it sure is nice to not walk through the halls alone. He’s looking at you waiting for a response and is quite frankly worried about how much time you spend zoning out. 

“I guess that would…be alright. But no funny stunts Urie!” you wave a finger at him. 

“Me? Stunts! Why I never!” he places his hand over his heart. 

That mischievously crooked smile of his returns and you immediately regret your decision, but there was no going back now. He gestures out for you to walk out first, being the gentleman he has never been. You duck into the hallway and he follows. It feels weird to have someone walk next to you. People would clap him on the shoulder or give him a nod as we passed. Is this what it is like to not be invisible? 

“Do you know everyone in this school?” you ask.

“No.” his hand brushes against your thigh and you just bout double over. He notices the redness taking over your cheeks and he chuckles. “But being in a band does help.” 

You reach your classroom and awkwardly shift your weight waiting for what comes next. You weren’t sure if you just leave or were you supposed to hug him? If so that wasn’t going to happen. 

“I’ll see you seventh period.” he smiles, dropping a piece of paper into your notes. When you get to your seat, you find scribbled lyrics. Something about a girl.

Let’s just say you couldn’t believe that just happened.


Seventh hour rolls around and Brendon is nowhere to be found. Honestly you are a bit relieved because you have conflicting feelings. Ones that you don’t want to address. So as usual, you shut yourself in the small room and zone out. As you write a small note in your sheet music, a voice startles you causing you to drop your pencil. 

“Geeze. Someone’s on the edge?” he teases. This time it doesn’t irritate you as much, which doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“No. You came in here and screamed my name.” 

“Valid.” 

He sits down next to you and places his fingers on the ivory keys of the stand up piano. You glance over at him with a perplexed expression and wait for a response. 

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I have something to show you.” 

He starts to play a song, a soft melody. He begins to hum along but you can’t make out quite what he is saying. So you just listen. 

“What do you think?” 

“It’s cool. Did you write that?” 

He just shrugs, turning to look at you. The space between the two of you is very limited, and you feel like this isn’t going to end well. You stare up at him with beady eyes, and his hand abruptly falls against your thigh. You aren’t sure how to react, if you should be scared or pleased, annoyed, or all of the above. He leans in closely, his lips just ghosting over yours. It’s so close, so hot, everything that you could have imagined it being. In all honesty it scares you that it got to this point so fast, but you weren’t about to object either. What you don’t expect is him pulling back with that same mischievous smile, leaving you conflicted and turned on. 

“What?” you say just barely above a whisper. 

“I should get to class.” he gets up, allowing a sudden rush of cool air to hit you. 

“What.” is all you can manage. 

With that he gets up and shuts the door. You gape at him through the window and flip him off. This causes him to chuckle and shake his head at you. Curse that boy and his stupid charm. Now that you are a puddle of feelings, there isn’t any use in trying to get anything productive done. 


The next time you see him is at another rehearsal two days later. Its a monday now, a pitiful start to a stressful week. Ryan had asked you if you wanted to play again to see how things are working out, and you used this as a sad excused to see Brendon. You are still mad at him for the band room incident, but you can’t help yourself. 

“Ryan?” you call out to the empty bar. 

Peering around the corner you hope to find them in one of the back rooms. Your heart jumps a little and you have to tell yourself to calm down when you find Brendon in the back, alone. 

“Oh, hey.” he smiles at you. 

Deciding to be sly and make him repay for his actions the other day, you give him the slightest bit of attention. Let the flirty attitude commence.

“Hello.” You say bending over to pick up your cello. He can’t help but look. 

“Can’t get enough can you?” he smirks. 

Two can play at this game Urie. 

You sit down, flipping your hair out of the way with a perky smile. You can’t help but noticed he bites down on his lip as you sit there plucking at the strings of your instrument. 

“Can I help you?” you pout at him a little. 

“I don’t know. Can you?” he sends a wink and your stomach is in knots. Hold it together. He isn’t going to win this one. 

“Depends.” 

“You look cute today. Thought I should let you know.” 

“Flattery corrupts both the receiver and the giver, Brendon. You of all people should know.” 

“Your cheeks would say otherwise.” You look up at him, realizing he is right. 

You try to will yourself down but that only flusters you even more. God, why does he have this affect on you? You adjust your sweater in a desperate attempt to cover up the evidence. 

“Buzz off.” you return back to your instrument. 

“What? Can handle a little banter? Heart beating a little faster isn’t it?” He walks up behind you, placing his hand right over your heart. A grin pulls as he realizes your heart is going faster than a bullet. 

Your hand slips from the bow causing this deep, awkward note to sound through the room. Your eyes grow wide and this fuels your anger. Standing up you face him, trying to square up and be somewhat intimidating. 

“Listen here. I didn’t come here to play games.” 

“Neither did I.” he takes a step closer. A wave of vulnerability and desire fight within you and you aren’t sure what comes next. 

His hand lands on the smallest portion of your back. You stiffen at the abrupt gesture, and raise your eyebrows as his fingers fumble with the waist of your pants. He stares at you with that all too familiar twinkle of joyful energy in his eyes. 

“I could get used to this you know.” He leans in close, whispering into your ear. 

“To what?” 

“This. Us.” His lip grazes your ear and for a moment you weren’t sure if you could remember how to speak. 

“There isn’t any us.” you breathe.

“Really, because your voice says otherwise.” You can hear the smirk in his words alone, you didn’t have to see to know. “You want me.” 

“Do not.” you stutter. 

“So if I did this, it wouldn’t mean anything?” He places his lips on the tender skin on the corner of your jaw. They are even softer than you had expected. 

Your hand falls against his chest to steady yourself. His lips work their way up to your lips, gently teasing the delicate skin. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want more, and your hand possessively taking a fist full of his shirt gives it all away. As if your breathing growing infinitely heavier wasn’t enough. 

It takes everything in you not to let a soft moan or hum pass your lips, but now was not the time or place for such a thing, you wanted to prove a point. But as his lips brush against your for the second time, you can’t quite stifle it fast enough.  He pauses for a moment, and thank god he does because Ryan walks in with Spencer. You turn away from Brendon sharply and pick up your cello. 

“Everything good in here?” Ryan chuckles almost surprised.

“Yeah.” you say shortly. 

Taking the quickest way out, you grab your cello and dash out of the room as fast as you can. Brendon never lets his gaze leave you. Making your way over to the chair that you sat in a few days ago, you sit and start to play to take your mind away. Just out of habit you start to play a Bach suite. It comes so naturally to you that you don’t even have to think about it. For a moment you can completely zone out and forget why you are even here in the first place. 

Unknown to you, Brendon stands in the doorframe completely enthralled with watching you play. It amazes him how dynamic your playing is, and you make it look so effortless.  

“Did you know she could play like this?” he says wide eyed to Ryan.

“Yeah, and if you didn’t spend every moment tormenting her at school you would too.” 

“You can practically hear her music pouring through the hallways during seventh and fourth period.” Spencer adds. 

Brendon marches on stage, startling you out of your daydream. 

“Oh sorry.” you mumble. 

“Don’t be.” 

You stay quiet, unable to look at Brendon. The feeling of his lips still burns on your neck. You long for them to be there again, but that isn’t the answer. His voice fills the empty room. It sounds so powerful and strong and it makes you go weak in the knees. 

“I’m a diva! Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin. I’m the new cancer, never looked better, and you can’t stand it!” you scoff at his cocky lyrics. 

Then it sets in. He is the new cancer. Your new cancer. And you can’t stand it. You didn’t want him to be, but it just sorta happened. 

“Let’s run Build God.” He says and that is your cue. 

You manage to look at him from behind loose strands of fallen hair as you hunch over your cello. He looks so comfortable and confident. The microphone it definitely his place. You secretly hate him for being so confident, wishing you could be too. 


That night you exchange numbers with him after rehearsal. 


Three days later as you are sitting on your couch, surrounded by a massive pile of notes, you get a text. You almost didn’t answer it because of all the studying you have to do, but something beyond your senses decided it was best to look. He texted you. 

meet me at the bar in 20

You blink at your phone almost in shock at the text. He blatantly asked you to meet him somewhere, in public. Your hands tremble a little as you debate as to what you should do. On one hand, you know that you have way too much homework to do and you should stay here and do it. But you really wanted to see him. You go with your heart. 

see you then.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you can’t believe you looked like this all day at school. In a sad attempt to look better, you let your hair down from a messy bun. A little better. You throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and a coat of lip gloss for good measure. Out the door you go. 

With your cello strapped to your shoulders, you walk down the leaf covered sidewalks. You try to stay conscious of your pace but your feet have a mind of their own. When you get to the bar, you realize you are five minutes early. But it’s okay because he is too. 

“Where is everyone else?” you ask, stepping into the dimly lit room. 

“Just me and you tonight.” he smiles, making you shake in your boots. 

“Oh.” 

“Don’t look so scared (y/n).” he says patting the stool next to him. 

Like a timid little child, you sit down next to him. He looks at you with a flight frown trying to decide what to do. 

“I know what you need.” he gets up and rummages around  behind the counter. When he pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses you immediately interject. 

“Ah. Shh. He won’t mind.” he says pouring two glasses. 

You take the liquid gold in your hands and swirl it around. You aren’t much of a drinker, but the idea of it taking the edge off really sounds like just what you need. You are never going to be able to explain this one to your parents. 

“It isn’t going to kill you.” he sits back down next to you. 

His knee bumps into yours again and you muster up enough bravery to take a swig from the glass. You cringe a little as it burns, but then you realize it did just the trick. He looks down at the traces of lip gloss left on the rim of your cup, and then back up at you. A look that makes your stomach flip. 

“I know it’s not.” you say looking at your glass. 

“Not much of a drinker I take it?” 

“I can handle myself. I just never saw the point.” 

“But it makes you feel good.” 

He’s right. Your jitters for the most part are gone. You take another swig of your drink and turn to pick up your cello. 

“I wasn’t planning on pract…” you cut him off. 

“I know. I’ve just been working on something that I wanted to show you.” 

Now it’s your turn to put everything out there. Music has and always will be your way of expressing yourself, and this was a grand gesture. You have been working day in and day out to compose a full score for Build god, and truly it is a work of art. The notes are stealthy and low, much like your relationship with Brendon. He watches as you pluck at the strings, admires your form as you glide your bow so precisely. 

“It’s beautiful.” he says, his words tickling the back of your neck. “Show me how you play those soft notes again.” 

You bend over your instrument and take your fingers delicately to the strings. He carefully watches your fingers as they dance around joyfully. 

“You just have to be careful.” you smile at him. 

As you turn your head toward him, you feel his lips push into yours unexpectedly. There go those damn butterflies again. Why is it that every time he touches you, you feel like you are moving at the speed of light. He stinkin’ knows it too. 

“Bren..” you mumble against his lips. 

It isn’t very long before his arms are around you, pressing you against his chest. His hands roam around your body delicately, like he’s handling you like a cello. Finally his hands settle on the curve of your waist and it makes you feel weightless. This is the kind of kiss that makes heat radiate to your core, and your chest to fill with a certain desire that you have never experienced before. 

His hand swiftly glides down to your thigh, where he helps aid your leg around his hips. Gladly, you help as he supports your weight and carries you over to a barstool. It both surprises you and turns you on at how adept he is at this. Truth be told it’s intimidating. 

“Say it.” he pants. 

“Say what?” 

“That I was right.” he flashes that cheeky smirk that makes you forget everything else. 

“Fine. I’m into you. Okay?” you sigh. 

He moves over to your collar bones, planting soft, wet kisses along the outline. Your head dips back and your eyes flutter a little and he knows he has you right where he wants you. Praying for love. Your fingers shake with energy and nervousness as they land on his chest. The constant contact is almost too much to handle, but you don’t want it to stop. Unfortunately for you, he has other plans in mind. He fumbles with the hem of your shirt, creeping a fingertip up against the skin of your stomach. His hand slides farther up your shirt and you pray to god that you don’t mess this up.

Of course you freeze when this happens. You have a big secret that he isn’t aware of, and you weren’t quite sure how he would react. You swallow hard, dreading having to tell him that you haven’t ever gone farther than a kiss with anyone. Ever. Of course he retracts his hand when you tense up, and it almost makes you feel worse. With a ‘baby deer in the headlights’ look, you glance up at him. 

“What’s wrong?” he says soberly. 

“I’m sorry.” you whimper, trying to slide off of the barstool to retrieve your items. Fortunately for you his reaction time is faster than you are. 

His hand clasps around your waist and holds you from escaping, the other is holding your wrist. You want nothing more than to retract into yourself and become invisible, but you well know that you need to face your fears. 

“I…um… god.” you sigh. “I haven’t ever…been… with anyone. If you know what I mean.. and..” you trail off. 

He looks at you with a whole new expression, one that you can’t quite decipher. His eyes look softer, and his smile has faded. Perhaps its the innocence of it all, or maybe just the terrified expression that lurks on your face, but the next thing his does is completely unexpected. His arms wrap tightly around your frame, pressing you as close as possible. Is he really hugging you? After you told him you are indeed a virgin? 

“I don’t understand?” you mumble. 

“Do you trust me?” he looks at you. 

Do you trust him? You just met him. You have no reason to trust him. But something deep in your core really did trust him. Maybe that was the alcohol talking, but you nod a faint yes, unable to form the words you so wanted to say. 

His steady hands peel off your cardigan from your arms, revealing your lightly freckled shoulders. He spins you around and presses his lips to the top of your shoulder. It’s soft and breathy, everything you hoped for and more. One hand slides under your shirt again, firmly pressing against your stomach. The funny thing is, he doesn’t try anything. No slipping hands, no awkward grabs, just warm contact. It’s an odd sensation to have someone so close, especially when you are at your most vulnerable point. 

Its all very overwhelming and you feel yourself starting to distance from the situation. Pulling away again, you feel so bad for putting him through this. You take a few steps toward your cello, running your hands roughly through your hair, and blowing out an exasperated huff more irritated with yourself than anything. 

“Wow.” he smiles brightly looking at you in the dim yellow light. “You are so beautiful.” 

“Bullshit.” you throw your hands to your sides. You didn’t mean to say that out loud but now that it’s out in the open you can’t really take it back. Curse you and your word vomit.

“It’s not bullshit.” he takes a few closer to you cautiously. “I get that you have boundaries, and I am willing to respect every one of them. But standing here, right now, you are beautiful. And I don’t really want to stop kissing you.” 

You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Ten days ago you would never have imagined him being this caring human that actually has a heart. Yet here you stand, faced with a big decision. 

“Then kiss me.” you say shaking a bit.

In two long strides he is there, taking you in again. His hands are wound up in your hair and his lips are tangled with yours. You didn’t realize that bitter taste of alcohol on his breath until now, and oddly enough it re-energizes you. It’s amazing how he can make you feel so many things all at the same time. How he does it is a mystery, and you didn’t want to solve it. 

Taking you by the hand, he leads you over to the stand up piano that sits on the raised stage. He lifts you up and climbs up, taking a seat on the rickety piano bench. 

“You showed me something. Now it’s my turn to show you something.” 

His hands dance around the keys again, this time to a tune that you don’t recognize. His focus is razor sharp as he plays. When he starts to sing, you think back to that piece of paper he handed you a few days ago, with the lyrics about a boy and a girl scribbled on it. That’s the song. This time it’s you who watches in adoration as he spills out his feelings through his music. Holy crap. You are completely and utterly in love with Brendon Urie. 

“Did you write that for me?” you ask, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I did indeed.” he smiles softly. “Hey.” 

“Crap I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually emotional.” you laugh away the tear that is rolling down your cheek. He swipes it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“It’s kinda cute, actually.” he admits. 

“So where does this leave us?” you ask avoiding his eyes. 

“Well… I was thinking.. maybe we could start a relationship. With real dates, kisses, hand holding, all that shit.” he asks reaching for your hand. 

“I think I would really like that.” 

Peter Pan Never Fails

Originally posted by pan-imagines

Pairing: Peter Pan x Reader

Prompt:  anonymous asked:  So, I’m new to your page, but I sooo love it!!! And I wanted to ask you, if it’s alright with you, if I can have a Peter Pan with fluff and having it end in smut?

Anonymous asked: Can you do a smut where peter got to come but then the reader didn’t and the next day the reader confronts him about it and you know the rest ;)

Warning:  SMUT, multiple orgasms, fluff, language

A/N: I hope it’s okay I combined these two requests! I thought this work well together. This entire story is basically sin.  I hope you enjoy, darlings!

 

Peter was above you, thrusting into your wet core. His groans of pleasure were growing more and more loud with each thrust, and you could feel his cock throbbing within you. “Oh, bloody hell, (Y/N), I’m g-gonna cum!” he stuttered out.  With one final thrust, he reached his peak, his eyes clamping shut as he groaned out your name. When he finally came down from his high, he collapsed next to you, pulling your back to his chest. He leaned up and kissed your temple, and whispered in your ear, “You are so perfect, love.”

When he fell, asleep, you were wide awake, contemplating what just happened. He didn’t make you cum. Not even once. You were extremely frustrated, emotionally and sexually. Why the bloody hell couldn’t he have taken the extra time to help you get off?!  You groaned softly, knowing it would be hard to fall asleep that night,

The next morning, you woke up extremely tired and irritated, only receiving about an hour of sleep due to your predicament. You sit up and throw your legs off the side of the bed, and put your face in your hands. You groaned loudly into them, your frustration coming off of you in waves. You look up from your hands, and notice Peter wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Of bloody course, you think, first he can’t fuck me properly, now he can’t even be here in the morning when I wake up. Bloody brilliant. You stand up and get dressed, not really ready to take on the day, but you know you have to anyways.

You knew that in the state you were in, you couldn’t to do anything that would include you not taking out your frustrations, so you decided today would be the perfect day to train. You walked by yourself to the training grounds, picking up the sharpest sword you could find on your way there. Once you made it, you started hacking away at the first tree you saw.  This helped relieve some tension, but not enough. You groaned in frustration, hating that this is what you were reduced too. All you wanted was for your boyfriend to make you cum, was that too much to ask for?! This entire situation was screwing you up.  You threw the sword against the ground, and stomped off, ready to find Peter Jackass and give him a piece of your mind.

When you finally found Peter, he was alone in his treehouse. You climbed up the ladder to house, and knocked on the door. Peter had only just opened the door when you burst through, arms across your chest and your face full of anger. “What the bloody was that last night, Pan?” you fumed. Confusion and slight hurt passed over his face. You never called him Pan, not even when you were angry in the past. “I’m sorry, love, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He replied, confusion evident in his voice. Him not even knowing what could have possibly happened pissed you off even more.

“Oh, you don’t, do you? You don’t even know that you couldn’t make your girlfriend cum last night when we were fucking?!”

“What?!” His eyes widened. He had no idea he hadn’t brought you to release. Peter knew he was a selfish, heartless boy, but not when it came to you. He always made sure you were happy and taken care of. Just knowing he couldn’t even complete a task such as this hurt him.

“Bloody hell, Pan! You didn’t even know?! Of course not! You talk a big game, saying bullshit like “Peter Pan never fails,” but looks like you failed once! You failed to make me fucking cum! God, all you cared about last night was you.“ You yelled out, your breathing frantic and your face red with anger. Peter looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. Faster than you expected, he had you pinned against the wall, his lips pressed harshly against your own. You moaned at the sensation, loving how rough he was treating you. He broke the kiss, and started trailing kisses down your jaw and neck. “You’ve got fire. I like fire. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum tonight, kitten.” He mumbled against your skin. You moaned softly at his words, your panties growing wetter in anticipation.

 He continued kissing and sucking on your neck, his hands trailing up under your shirt. Once he reached your breasts, he grabbed them and massaged the soft flesh through your bra. You moaned under his ministrations, silently begging for more. He stopped his movements, and you groaned in frustration. He chuckled at your displeasure, and he reached down and tugged off your shirt. After the fabric was off your body, you reached behind you, slowly unclipping your bra and tearing it off, throwing across the room. You kicked off your shoes and socks, and allowed Peter to take off your pants, pulling those down with your panties in one swift motion.

 Peter swiftly dropped to his knees and nudged your legs apart to give him better access. He trailed his hands up the expanse of your legs, stopping just above where you wanted him. “Where do you want me, kitten? Use your words.” He said in a husky voice. You whimpered, trembling slightly even though he had barely done anything yet. “P-peter please.” You moaned out, begging for him to touch you. He chuckled darkly, before plunging his fingers into your wet pussy. You screamed loudly, your head falling back against the wall.

 You weren’t expecting him to be so relentless, but it felt so good. Peter continued his brutal pace, when all the sudden you felt him attach his mouth to your clit. You let out a choked moan and carded your fingers through his perfect dark gold hair. You felt your high quickly approaching; your pussy clenched tightly around Peters fingers. “P-peter! I’m gonna-“Peter sucked hard one last time on your clit, and that set you over the edge. You screamed out his name and gripped his hair tightly, refusing to let go. Peter continued his ministrations until you finally came off of your high, your grip on him loosened as you slumped slightly against the wall, attempting to catch your breath.

You felt Peter stand up, and lift you up, carrying you bridal style to the bed. “I’m not done with you yet, princess.” He said, a smirk gracing his features. He dropped you on the bed, your head hitting the pillows perfectly.  He climbed on top of you, placing a swift kiss on your lips, before trailing kisses down your neck, then down the valley of your breasts to your stomach, before finally reaching your abused pussy. “You are mine,” he said, before delving his tongue in your drenched core. You moaned loudly, your back arching of the bed in ecstasy.  

He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer, making his tongue go deeper inside you. You almost screamed, his name falling off your lips like a prayer. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so soon enough you felt another orgasm arise. “Peter! Don’t stop! I’m g-gonna cum a-again!” you screamed out, wanting nothing more than to cum for the second time that night. You felt him press a thumb against you clit, and you screamed out his name, you cumming again that night. You clamped down against his tongue, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

You came down from your high, your body quivering slightly with overuse. Peter crawled back up your body, and positioned his cock at your entrance. He leaned down to capture lips in a kiss, tongues intertwining in passion. He broke the kiss and looked in your eyes. “One more kitten, can you give me one more?” he said, his eyes full of mischief. You nodded slightly, your head still swimming with pleasure. He slowly pushed into you, his cock filling you perfectly. You were so oversensitive you almost came from his entrance into you, your walls feeling like they were on fire. You let out a choked sob; the feelings were almost too much.

 He started thrusting in you at a relentless pace, his face contorted in pleasure. “Oh, kitten, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. You always take me so well.” He groaned out. You moaned at his words, your nails scratching down his back, leaving angry red marks in their path.  You loved when he talked to you like this, raw and unhinged, wanting you to know exactly what he wanted to do to you. For the third time that night you felt yourself getting closer to the metaphorical edge, you just needed a little bit more.

Almost as if Peter could read your thoughts, he reached between your bodies and started toying with your clit, adding the perfect amount of pressure to your sensitive nub. “K-kitten I can feel you tightening around my c-cock. You gonna cum, little girl?” he said, his thrusts turning sloppy, him on the edge of release himself. You nodded frantically, your words escaping you. “C-cum for me kitten. Cum around my cock.” He groaned out. His words set you over the edge, your release coming in harsh waves. You screamed out his name, and your vision blurred completely. You faintly heard Peter call out your name, cumming with one last harsh thrust. That was the last thing you remember before blacking out.

You awoke with a start, your head foggy, and the spot between your legs was completely sore. “(Y/N), I must say, I’m impressed. I can’t believe you blacked out.” You heard Peter say. You turned towards his voice, groaning softly at your body protesting any movement. You snuggled into his chest, smiling against his skin. Peter looked down at you, a slight smile gracing his features. He loved how utterly wrecked you looked, and it was all because of him. He wrapped and arm around you, pulling you closer to him. He leaned down and kissed the top of your hair. “It’s hard for me to say, but I am sorry I didn’t…attend to your needs last night. Hopefully this made up for it, love.” He whispered. You just nodded your head, and let sleep over take you. Never let it be said that Peter Pan didn’t amend his mistakes. After all, Peter Pan never fails.

“Murray got a shutout, bet you feel like an idiot for not wanting him to play because you think he sucks huh? Dumbass.”

The problem is the blatant favoritism and relentless slaps in the face to Flower. Let me dumb it down for you: Flower - 2 shutouts, one bad game in the 3rd round, pulled. Murray - 1 shutout, two bad games in the SCF, stays in.

If you don’t get it, there’s no hope for you.

anonymous asked:

Sinbad, Kouen, Muu fluffy scenarios?

Can you do fluffy scenarios for Sinbad, Drakon, and Solomon?
Hell yeah I can! I just hope you don’t mind if I pair these together.

Solomon is really hot, but I do not know how to write him for the life of me

Sinbad had always been a needy lover, his hands never leaving your body to its’ lonesome, but this was a bit much. You sat between his legs while he rested his head on yours, his body acting as a muscular wall of protection against nothing in particular. The sun beat down making the already warm cage of a human unbearable yet he refused to let go. At first he had been pouting about you neglecting him, but now the bastard was just enjoying your suffering. For what felt like the 50th time you struggled against his strong arms and like the 49 other times you attempted he just laughed and held you tighter. In an annoyed tone you pouted “ You really are the worst.”
Promptly snuggling his face into your hair Sinbad chuckles, “You really don’t know what buttering someone up is, do you?”

Drakon was the perfect height for a lot of things, but shoulder rides were probably the best. From where you sat you could see half of Sindria, or so you claimed. Your excitement never ceased and for that he was thankful. If something as simple as giving you an extra high piggy ride could bring a relentless smile to your face then, as cliche as it seems, he was happy. Though what he didn’t find a as endearing was how you wriggled about as a bee flew near you, repeatedly kicking Drakon in the face as you screamed for him to get it away. He could most certainly live without that.

Kouen may not of been the most romantic man to walk the earth, but he might as well have been the heaviest. His body had somehow found its way on top of yours throughout the night, and now you thought you might just die. Years of training had left him well muscled and unbearably hefty. He was draped across you, the only things left free were your arms which beat uselessly at his back, because sadly he was a heavy sleeper. Suddenly the breath filled into your lungs and your life flashed before your eyes as he rolled over onto his back, you going with him. Great. While you may have been saved from the unpleasant fate of your lover crushing you to death, your hands were now trapped instead.

Muu was the epitome of a gentlemen, he held doors open for you, pulled out your chair, but apparently giving you the last bite of your shared dessert was undoable. What had first started as a speculation of who would get the last of the cake had now turned into a war. At the moment you possessed the cake. Muu on the other hand had the advantage of being ungodly tall and a natural born warrior, but you were not going down without a fight. When you tensed up to run he lunged for the slice of heaven you held, his broad shoulders bumping into you causing you and the cake to fall. Coming back to his senses Muu saved you from what would have been a painful accident, but the cake wasn’t as fortunate. The two of you starred down at the sad sight somberly agreeing to just by two slices next time instead of trying to be romantic.

Lee Hyun Woo Appreciation Post

현우 한테: 늘 좋은 모습 보여줘서 고마워요 ^^ 정말 현우를 사랑하고 그 누구보다 열심히 응원할게요. 앞으로도 좋은 연기 많이 보여주고 대박나세요!! 언제나 건강하고 행복하길 바랍니다~♡

Before I start, I would like to dedicate this post to my dear Minhee unni, thank you for the inspiration haha >< 사랑합니다 언닝~♡

Epitome of perfection..?

After the whole 20-cut-to-16-episodes saga with global teen drama Moorim School, I somehow have this inexplicable urge to write about our male protagonist Lee Hyun Woo, who in my opinion is largely underrated and wholly undervalued. I will herein affectionately call him Hyunwoo, since he has a perpetual baby face that seemingly never ages and I’m sadly a noona (albeit only 1 year but still extremely saddened) :( 

To make it brief, after the premiere of Moorim School and even more so after the 4-episodes cut, our Hyunwoo has been facing a relentless amount of negative criticisms. Of course, none of them was about his acting, which is undeniably exceptional for a boy his age, but rather it was about how terribly he chooses his projects, in particular dramas. While I do agree that Moorim School might not be the best drama around, it is definitely not the worst, and more than anything, we should appreciate the amount of hard work and effort put into making this drama. 

An apt picture of Hyunwoo shielding himself from the rain of criticisms..

Argh are tattoos really a vice?

Hmm.. I don’t know what will become of this write up but I would really like fans to know that although it is inevitable that comparisons to his same-age colleagues will often be made, our Hyunwoo shines brightly in his own way. That said, I shall give a quick summary of his acting accreditations. 

Our boy started off as a child actor at the mere age of 9 (or maybe 10, I’m not particularly sure). In his early years, he played child roles in a myriad of large-scale historical productions such as The Return of Iljimae, Queen Seonduk and Gyebaek. Through his teenage years, he further built his resume by supporting roles in a handful of dramas and films, with God of Study and To The Beautiful You being more popular productions. As he approached his 20s, Hyunwoo focused more on films, many of which boasted heavyweight casts and were critically acclaimed for their considerable success (more on that later).

Cries..

I’ve watched Hyunwoo for a long time now and it never really occurred to me that compared to the rest of his same-age colleagues, he is somehow not as popular. As much as I hate to admit this, it is quite true that he never really peaked in terms of popularity. Don’t get me wrong, Hyunwoo is popular, quite so in fact, but the fact that he is currently not as popular as his 1993 counterparts and not surfing atop the Hallyu wave remains a mystery to me. Just to draw some comparisons, the other 1993 actors include Park Bo Gum (Reply 1988), Seo Kang Joon (Cheese in the Trap), Yoo Seung Ho (Missing You) and Jisoo (Angry Mom). 

The strange thing is despite being in the industry wayyy longer than most of them (with Yoo Seung Ho being the exception), it conflicts me when I have to decide what drama or film to attach to his name. Even though Hyunwoo acted in popular dramas and had various successful movies under his belt, somehow there just isn’t one super defining moment that shouts Lee Hyun Woo. To put it simply, I always pause and hesitate as to which project I should put in brackets behind his name.

The thing about Hyunwoo is that he has always been there doing great things but there is just no one character that properly defined him as an actor. I attribute this to casts that boast either heavyweight or popular names. That said, he is inarguably an A-list actor and to me, possibly the best actor in his age group. As much as I love Park Bo Gum (!!!) and Seo Kang Joon like crazy, I’ve got to say that Hyunwoo wins hands down. In fact, he and Yoo Seung Ho pioneered the 1993-line actors, with both being crazy talented and far more experienced. 

Alright I said I will talk more about his movies, so I shall do so now. Sorry, I know the layout of this write up is all over the place. I don’t really have the most organised mind and my write ups are mostly written spur-of-the-moment and very much alike word vomit LOL. Anyway.. In recent years, our Hyunwoo has been taking up roles in various well-received films. In the past couple of years, he filmed 3 really great ones - Secretly Greatly, The Technicians and Northern Limit Line. I’ve watched all 3 more times than I can count and oh my.. I don’t even know how to get started. Don’t worry, there are no spoilers~ ^^

Secretly Greatly (은밀하게 위대하게): Hyunwoo plays a young North Korean spy disguised as a high school student. The cast includes Kim Soo Hyun (You Who Came From the Stars) and Park Ki Woong (Bridal Mask), who are North Korean spies as well. This film broke various South Korean box office records.

The Technicians (기술자들): Hyunwoo plays an elite hacker who works with 2 others - Kim Woo Bin (The Heirs) and Go Chang Suk (Rough Cut) - to steal diamonds from a safe vault. His character is supposedly fond of betraying his teammates.

Northern Limit Line (연평해전): Hyunwoo plays a medical officer on board a patrol boat that is being deployed to the Northern Limit Line. Cast includes Kim Moo Yeol and Jin Goo, both of whom are household names in South Korea. This film is based on the real-life events of the Second Battle of Yeonpyeong during the 2002 FIFA World Cup in South Korea. FYI, the Northern Limit Line is a line that cuts across the Yellow Sea, thus defining the boundaries of South Korea and North Korea.

Northern Limit Line poster. Please watch this, highly recommended.

Some may disagree but I’m of the firm belief that within his age group, Hyunwoo has quite strong footing in the film industry. He clearly has a knack for choosing films, but not so much luck when it comes to the small screen. To The Beautiful You had immense international success but was not as well-received domestically, whereas Moorim School (despite only being in its third week) has been dubbed a B-list show marked with slews of negative criticisms. Furthermore, although his films had met with substantial success, it is quite clear that Hyunwoo had been overshadowed by the other big names, thus depriving him of having more time in the limelight. 

Looking at this photo.. I can pretty much say life is complete lol.

Despite my flittering fangirl heart, Hyunwoo will always be and remain special to me. Whatever role he takes on, he never fails to make his characters believable, and that’s the thing about Hyunwoo - you don’t see him acting as someone but you see him as the character himself. His facial expressions and body language make his characters so real and relatable, it’s hard to believe that it’s just acting. In fact, Hyunwoo is one of the rare few where viewers don’t refer to him by his real name but by his character’s name. 

As much as I always have a preference for my favourite stars to have a manageable fan base size (à la now), I really want Hyunwoo to heighten his popularity and achieve the fame he rightly deserves. I’ve never seen such a versatile actor like him - so young yet so mature. With his unparalleled acting and vast experience, coupled with looks to die for, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before he makes it to the top, and this noona fan here will forever be there to support him :) 

To end off on a sweet note, here are some aww-worthy photos from Hyunwoo’s Korean fan sites!! Hmm.. I don’t particularly like posting fan photos simply cos I didn’t take them and hence they are not mine to share, but I think just for this time, not posting them would probably be a crime LOL. Contrary to popular belief, such high quality fan photos are not that easy to come by, and I’m super thankful to these Korean fan sites for making it so much more accessible than most others (ahem Park Bo Gum fan sites are.. ahem ridiculous -.-). So please do me a favour and properly credit these photos by not cropping the logos or editing them. Thank you and yes yes, I know you love me~

Hyunwoo plays soccer for FC Avengers~

Aww.. ^^

In case you didn’t know, Hyunwoo hates doing cutesy stuff like giving out hearts.. This is SO RARE.

I found 2 heart photos. I’m the best. But the point here is the EYE SMILE.

Ackk so cute!!

Faints.. 

Okay BYE ^^

Red Velvet’s Reaction to: You Gesturing To Them While Singing Certain Lyrics on Stage

Irene: i think she’d try to keep her composure, to not give away to the world that she was getting really flustered inside. might playfully smack you after the show and tell you to act more conspicuous or else the media might go crazy but also meet her in the hotel Jacuzzi ;) ;)

Originally posted by joohyunh

Wendy: can’t help the grin spreading across her face. of course, the relentless teasing she’ll face after your performance will drive her insane but she found it incredibly sweet that while performing on stage, in front of thousands, you were still only thinking of her

Originally posted by wendythegood

Seulgi: was beaming brighter than even the sun. she loved how much you cared for her, could hear the adoration in your voice as you sang and gestured to her. it made her feel loved and like the most beautiful girl on the planet

Originally posted by taechu

Joy: turned really shy. she hadn’t expected you to do that, was a little embarrassed that the eyes of the world were on her since your gesture but also flattered at the same time. you were proud to call sooyoung your gf, to display her to the world, and while that made her feel shy it also made her feel cherished and appreciated

Originally posted by rvot5

Yeri: turned into a pile of goo. she felt so special and adored, barely even hearing her unnies “aww” and nudge her. she was extra cuddly afterwards, forgetting there were cameras and hundreds of people all around. she just wanted to hold your hand, to touch you and cuddle you (you’re joy)

Originally posted by fyeah-redvelvet

3

Eleanor in  R E D, wearing the colors of the enemy. 

for @notaninternetkiller

anonymous asked:

66. “But I love you!” 68."Suck my nonexistent dick!" with RA!Yoongi please!

“Please, baby, let me in,” the drunkard slurs as he throws his body, limbs flailing everywhere, against your dorm room door for what must be tenth time in the past five minutes. You, on the other hand, are huddled under a pile of blankets on your bed, trying to stay as far from the door as possible.

He had started knocking about ten minutes ago, mistaking your room for someone else’s in his drunken state. Being the wimp you are, you hid under the covers and pretended you were not here, hoping he’d somehow realize his mistake and bother someone else. However, you couldn’t help but sneeze but five minutes ago, when something in the air just inexplicably tickled your nose. Since then the guy has been more persistent about getting you to open the door.

You muster up the courage to yell a quick go away, and the pounding stops and you hope he’s finally realized he’s got the wrong room.

“But I love you! Why would you want me to go away?” The guy whines through door. You groan but don’t attempt to move, not wanting to confront him face to face. However, nothing comes after that, no more knocking, no begging, nothing. You wait for a few more moments, then slowly get out of you bed and head to the door to check if he’s really gone.

You look through the peephole and see nothing, but you crack open your door just to double check. However, what you find is not an empty hallway or a crazy drunk guy, but said crazy drunk guy pinned against the wall by your RA, his hands gripping the collar of the other guy’s beer-stained shirt.

“Listen here, you little shit, if I catch you bothering my residents, especially her, one more time, I swear to god—“

“Yoongi?” You say, a bit confused but relieved, nonetheless. How your relatively small RA is holding this guy up is a bit baffling to you, but you’re thankful that he got the drunk to stop.

“Y/N!” His hands loosen from the guys shirt as he turns to you. The drunk, meanwhile, slides to the floor with a thump. “Are you okay? This guy has apparently been going and bothering people on the floor and—“

“It’s fine! It’s fine, at least now that you’re here.” You feel your stomach twist after these words leave your mouth, wary of the implications of your words. “I mean, you finally got him stop.”

“Yeah, I was just about to take him to the lobby, maybe call the campus police,” he says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, a complete change from his heated tirade just a few moments ago.

“Y-yeah, thanks for that, he was relentless.” You press your face against the doorframe, hoping to hide the red in your cheeks. You’ve always found your RA cute, but seeing him defend you like that? Fuck, that was hot. Especially since he tends to be a bit lethargic. Where did all this energy come from? You’re startled from your thoughts when the drunk guy groans from his spot on the floor.

“Uh, I should take him now,” Yoongi says, turning to hoist the guy back up onto his feet.

“Wait, can I do something first?” This guy had been getting on your nerves all night, you wanted to at least let out some frustration.

“Um, sure, I guess.” You smile at Yoongi as you stand on your tip toes to reach the other guy’s face.

“Suck my nonexistent dick, asshole.”

~ ~ ~

Drabble requests are now closed! Thank you to everyone who sent one in!

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Before I Am a Woman, Before I Am Black, I Am Freddie: Freddie Harrel

Infectious blogger Freddie Harrel opens up about the relentless racism she faced while growing up in France and how meeting her Prince Charming in London has empowered her to state: “Before I am a woman, before I am black, I am Freddie.”

Daddy!Harry Blurb Night #25: Paparazzi

The first time that you decided to take your new little baby girl out in public, Harry was more afraid than you were.

“But she’s still so little, (Y/N).” He said, holding her in his arms. “What if she catches cold?”

“She’ll be fine, my love. We’ll wrap her up nice and warm.”

Harry was still hesitant, but agreed. He double checked at least five times that she was completely bundled up and secure in his arms before you went outside and insisted on holding her the entire time. Why you had even bought a stroller was beyond you.

It took only a few minutes of walking down the busy sidewalk before people started spotting and recognizing you. The fact that this was the first time you were out with your baby made it even more exciting. You didn’t mind the fans so much; they mostly just stopped, pointed and stared. A few were brave enough to approach and ask for a picture and offer celebratory words. Harry politely declined the pictures, motioning toward the sleeping infant in his arms, but was very kind and appreciative of their well wishes.

It was when the paparazzi started showing up that Harry got tense. He held your little girl a little tighter against his body and kept his head down and you close to his side.

“Congrats on the baby, Harry.”

“Thank you.”

“Can we see her face, mate? Just one picture?”

“No, sorry. She’s asleep.”

Harry tried to keep walking without causing too much of a scene, but the cameras in his face were relentless. One got a little bit too close to his sleeping girl for his liking and he shot a firm glare at the photographer.

“Back up, mate. Not when I’m with my family, yeah?”

That seemed to do the trick and the cameras slowly backed off, continuing to take pictures from a safe distance as the three of you kept walking to your destination. You gave Harry’s hand a tight squeeze as he looked down at the sleeping infant snuggled against his chest.

“She’s fine, my love. See? Hasn’t stirred a bit.”

He rubbed a hand over her little head that was just starting to sprout some dark brown hair.

“Can I just keep her here like this forever? So she never has to deal with that by herself?”

You nodded. “You’re a good daddy, Harry. And she’ll always know that.”