#I'm fully prepared for your outrage

[lazygirldoesfics]

drunk confession [1/7]

how i imagine each of the bistro huddy guys would drunkenly confess their feelings for you

starting with nico !!

Nicole plops into the passenger seat of your old sedan, heaving a sigh. "Thanks for picking me up last minute."

"No worries, you're on my way anyway. What happened to Bridgette?"

"She fucking bailed." You watch as Nicole studies herself in the visor mirror. She picks at her mascara, eyes sparking with outrage as she continues, "Her bum ass boyfriend told her she 'couldn't come', that it's not 'his scene' so it'd be 'disrespectful' if she goes to another guy's birthday party without him. Like fucking grow up."

"Unbelievable," you groan, commiserating.

"I don't know why she stays with him," Nicole says smacking the visor back into place before she turns to you. Her lips curl upwards, deviously. "Which means we have to put in the work tonight to make sure she feels every bit of FOMO and gets pissed at that piece of shit so I'm not the only one seething about it." Nicole pulls out her phone, angling the camera to get both of you in the shot, and snaps a picture when you're wearing matching frowns. She texts it to Bridgette as you shift the car into gear and take off.

"Of course he picks a spot with absolutely no fucking parking," Nicole complains as you make your way to the club. The click clack of your heels echoes every inch of road you had to drive down until you finally found a place to park. Nicole keeps having to pull her dress down, grumbling each time she wrangles the hem back into it's place. You suppress a smile, amused by her grumpiness, knowing fully well that if she didn't want to be here she wouldn't have put in the effort to show up.

"It's gonna be fun," you cheer. "He's been talking up this spot all week."

Nicole stops dead, glancing down at you with eyes bearing just a hint of judgement. "It's Nico. I don't exactly trust his idea of a great spot. I'm prepared for sexual harassment and well drinks that taste like diesel." You shove her playfully with your elbow and that at least rises a smile out of her. "All I'm saying is I better get extra fries all week for coming to this. Like they better be hot and waiting as soon as I clock in."

"Agreed," you laugh.

There's a line out the door that emits more cursing from Nicole, but you make the best of it by sending selfies to Bridgette while you wait. She responds to each one almost instantly, hearting the messages or sending crying emojis. You frown when Nicole suggests this means Bridgette's probably watching reruns of Real Housewives by herself, while her boyfriend ignores her.

When it's your turn to be inspected by the bouncer, you give him your best smile. He barely glances at you before waving you passed the threshold. Stepping beyond the entrance door, you become engulfed by the change in atmosphere. Sweat slick air clings to you, fog from the DJ booth hazes your vision and the thrum of the bass pulsates through to your core. An air of cloying desperation sinks into your skin while your heels stick to the grime covered floor.

Nicole coughs next to you, disdain barely concealed. Eagle-eyed, you spot a guy stumbling towards your direction, beer sloshing onto the floor in his wake. Gently, you steer Nicole to the left, just beyond the drunken splash zone, saving her from a drenching.

That man has no idea of the life debt he owes you.

Nicole clenches her eye shut, breathing deeply. "Okay. Okay! I'm aligning my energy. I am here." Her eyes snap open and she brushes her long blond tendril back. "Let's go kill this shit."

She uses her height to scan the crowd and you're happy to watch from your shorter vantage point. "I see them." Nicole strides through the crowd towards the left side of the dance floor and you follow the path she carves. Still, she checks behind her every so often to make sure she hasn't lost you.

At last you make it through the crowd, rewarded with the sight of familiar faces. Brad turns his attention from the bar to wave a greeting, then signals back to the bartender to add two more drinks to his order. Ruby toasts her beer to you with a barely perceptible nod. Joey, perched at the edge of a black plastic bar stool, rubs at his temples. "This music is fucking awful."

"Oh, don't be such a boomer, Joey," Nicole teases, happy to abandon her own irritability if it means she gets to rub Joey's face in his. He mouths for her to shut up and Nicole responds by turning around to snap a selfie. She winks at you after sending the photo off to Bridgette, a secret between the two of you that she actually agrees with Joey more than he'll ever know. You choke down a laugh as you sit next to Ruby, letting Nicole sidle up to Brad and grab the two drinks he ordered for you both.

"Where's the birthday boy?" you ask and Ruby nods towards the dance floor. It's easy to spot Nico with his signature red bandana, though you don't know the cute blond girl he's dancing with. The burn of a blush creeps up your neck as you linger on Nico's hand clutching at the girl's side, ashamed that you notice the way his eyes rake down her figure. Besides him is Pickles, bouncing around like a pinball and dancing, presumably, with himself. That, at least, makes you smile.

"Bottoms up!" Nicole announces, handing a shot off to you. Her and Ruby share a terse smile. You wish they'd get along better, they are so incredibly alike.

You down the shot, letting the warm burn fill you. "Next one's on me!" you say, putting the glass down on the table and standing. "Anyone gonna dance?"

Ruby stills and Nicole proclaims she's not ready, turning back towards the bar to get another drink. Brad scans the crowd, though his eyes seem to trail after Nicole as she flirts with the bartender.

"Joey?"

The chef shakes his head. "Sorry, sunshine, as soon as this beer's done I'm out of here." He shakes his half full bottle of Coors at you. You put your hands on your hips, feigning appall. "You're all boring." With that, you jump into the crowd next to Pickles and bump your hip into his in time with the music.

"Y/N!!!" Pickles beams, flinging his arms around you and squeezing. "I'm so happy you're here!"

You squeeze Pickles just as hard, then take his hand to let him twirl you around. As you spin your eyes lock with Nico's, unaware that he'd even noticed you were here. You smile at him over Pickles' shoulder, and his lips pull into that lazy half-grin he sometimes gives you from behind the line. The blond he is with is lightning fast though, putting her hands on either side of his face to pull his focus back to her.

Your chest tightens, but the music changes to a song with a fast bass that dissolves the knots forming. You grab onto Pickles' hands and you jump together while sing-screaming the lyrics at each other. This goes on for awhile, the songs bleeding into each other, each one hyping you and Pickles up more and more.

The latest song begins to fade and Pickles leans into you, panting. "I need water."

You nod in agreement, fanning yourself with the neck of your shirt. Hands entwined, Pickles pulls you off the dance floor. Ruby and Joey are exactly where you'd left them, a few more beer bottles discarded around the table and hands waving wildly as they argue about something. Nicole stands a few feet away, back leisurely pressed against the bar. She's making exaggerated expressions over her espresso martini glass. You follow her eye line as you press up to the bar next to her and realize she is silently judging Brad's dance partner. Brad's eyebrows react back to her, and though not a word passes either of their lips, they are having a full blown conversation. Gracefully, Brad untangles himself from the girl, walking back over to Nicole in defeat. "I didn't think she was that bad."

"I didn't say a word," Nicole responds, smugly.

Barely hiding a smirk as the bartender approaches, you ask for two waters, handing a cup over to Pickles when they're given to you. The song changes just as the water hits your lips. The familiar opening bars to a Queen song fills the club. You turn to Pickles, eyes meeting each other in pure delight and the water cups are immediately discarded. "Oh we're ALL dancing to this one!" You proclaim, latching onto Nicole and Brad's wrists. You pull them forward, pushing them to follow Pickles onto the floor before you turn on Ruby and Joey. "You guys too, let's go! C'mon Joseph!" Ruby gets up, feigning reluctance as she lets you prod her along while you pull Joey by the crook of his elbow onto the floor with you.

You meet the others just in time to hear the girl Nico had been dancing with pout over the song being lame. She leaves when she realizes Nico's attention is totally lost for the moment. The song may not be her thing, but it also probably didn't help the way Pickles was jumping on top of Nico with abandon, holding absolutely no regard for her attempt to continue grinding. You all surround Nico, singing at the top of your lungs and jostling him in the middle of your mini mosh pit. Even Joey belts out a few words and plays air drums along with Nico's air guitar. Nicole catches it all on video, instantly sending it to Bridgette.

"Alright, alright. I'm outta here," Joey says as the song ends, waving his hands in front of his chest when you groan in protest. He pulls Nico in for an overly aggressive hug and slap on the back. "And don't any of yous be late tomorrow. I'm not dealing with a Terry temper tantrum." A chorus of 'bye Joey' and eye rolls reply to him.

"I'm heading out too. Happy Birthday," Ruby adds, a near smile hinting at her lips before following her boss towards the exit.

"Need. Water." Pickles pants again and heads back to the bar, just as the blond girl re-enters and takes up Pickles' spot next to Nico. Nicole and Brad, who have somehow gotten into an argument about how to make a proper gin martini, are so lost in their own bickering that they haven't noticed the crowd jostling around them. You stand awkwardly next to them, not wanting to get involved but feeling like you can't exactly escape either. Holding your arms across your chest, you sway uncertainly.

A hand find yours, and you look over your shoulder to see Nico tugging you back towards him. "It's not too early to cash in on a birthday dance is it?" He smiles at you in that aloof way, his eyes focusing in on you. A question bubbles on your tongue, wanting to know where the blond went but you decide you'd rather not know. "No, not too early. Right on time, I think," you smile back, fitting your arms around his neck.

His left hand is soft against your lower back, fingers guiding you to sway back and forth in time with the music. You're moving slow, the beat lost as you can feel the inches between you and Nico closing. The club is nothing but Nico's dark eyes swallowing you, the weight of his arms pulling around you until you're poised to meld together. You can't take the heat of Nico's eyes on you anymore so you hide against his collarbone, eyes shutting and letting the smell of earth and smoke on his shirt collar encompass your whole world. You're not sure if the thrumming you feel is the bass or your own heart, if you're still dancing or just standing still wrapped up in Nico's arms.

Suddenly you're knocked backwards, stumbling over your own feet until you hit up against someone. "Hey!" a voice shouts, indignant and you mumble an apology as you try to find reality again. "What the fuck, man," Nico's saying, head turning to glare at the man who'd shoved him and caused you to nearly fall on your ass. The guy is standing over him, absolutely beaming. When Nico finally sees him, he starts laughing. "Oh! Yo, I almost fucked you up man!" The two start shoving each other, albeit playfully, as more guys surround Nico, shouldering anyone, including you, out of the way to land punches and smacks on Nico's shoulder and stomach.

You feel disoriented, discarded even, as you slowly find your way back to the edge of the dance floor. You find the others there, all looking towards the sea of newcomers that have swallowed Nico. "Who are those guys?" you ask, hating how defeated your voice sounds.

"I think they used to work with Nico at Waffle House, at least some of them did," Pickles informs you. You try not to watch him assess you, ignoring the slight frown he wears as he turns to the bar to order another water. You drink it slowly when he hands it to you, watching the amorphous blob of raucous men completely take over the dance floor.

"And that's my cue to leave," Nicole asserts. "Ready?" she looks at you expectantly.

You should leave. You know this in the way you feel cold and unsure and slightly humiliated but you can't ignore that something just opened up between you and Nico. You're not quite ready to leave whatever that is behind yet.

"I'll drive you home," Brad interjects, saving you from having to say anything at all. You're not sure if he could sense your hesitation or if he was just looking for an opening of his own, but you're grateful nonetheless. As long as Nicole agrees.

Her eyes flit to Brad, assessing him with the quickness of a hummingbird's wings. "Let's go then," she says as if it's a challenge, daring Brad to follow through on something unspoken. You watch them disappear, Brad's hand hovering at the small of Nicole's back as she leads them through the crowd.

Next to you, Pickles rifles through his front jean pocket. He pulls out a bag of Skittles, pours some into his hands and offers them to you. "You don't have to stay for me you know," he chirps, "I told Nico I'd drive him home so I'm here for the long run."

You shove the Skittles into your mouth, the candy sticking to your teeth. You look towards the dance floor, watching the group of men you don't know chatting up different girls and pointing them towards Nico. You fix a smile on your face for Pickles. "I'm having too much fun to leave."

Pickles nods, giving you a look that's somewhere between skepticism and pity. You sigh, letting your shoulders sag and the pit in your stomach swallow you down with its full weight before putting your hand back out for Pickles to fill with more candy. Instead you feel a warm weight in your hand. You look up to see Nico, hand wrapping around yours. "You're still here," he's beaming at you, though his eyes are so glassy you're not sure how he can even see you clearly.

"Yeah," you answer softly, wishing you could stop the smile that's spreading from cheek to cheek.

"I think you need water," Pickles says after assessing Nico's wobbly stance, excusing himself from the table. Nico's still standing over you, hand in yours. "Our dance got interrupted," he says, his signature lazy laugh chasing after his words. He starts to move to the music that's playing, eyes slowly shutting. A heavy arm slams into his shoulder, and in the startle Nico slips his hand away from yours.

"You gonna introduce me?" It's the same guy that shoved into Nico while you two were dancing. His eyes waggle towards you in a way that makes you recoil.

"Oh uh, Carmine this is--"

He interrupts before Nico can finish. "No, let me guess. Nicole, right? Or are you Amber?"

You frown. "Neither. Actually, you just missed Nicole."

"Damn!" Carmine snaps his finger. "I really wanted to see the hottie my boy won't shut up about it."

"Bro," Nico says, with what could be a glare if his eyes were alert at all.

"Nah, I mean, you're cute too, don't get me wrong. What's your name sweetheart?"

"I'm nobody," you answer, hastily. "And I'm leaving so…have a good night. It was nice to meet you." You stand, ignoring the hushed way Nico tries to stall you. You put a hand on his shoulder to stop his fretting. "Happy birthday, Nico." You lean in, landing a soft, barely there kiss to his cheek. Eyes glued to the exit sign, you walk as fast as you can towards it before you completely lose your composure. You even ignore Pickles when he calls your name, pretending not to hear the way he asks Nico what happened to make you run off.

You look back at the dance floor quickly, noticing Nico's red bandana bob and sway in the crowd. You leave before it gets too close. The cold air outside hits you in the face like a brick, clearing your senses and leaving you with a weird empty feeling. Like you had something in the palm of your hand but it's slipped through your fingers. You walk a few feet, until the music is no longer drumming in your ears, and lean against the wall of a closed Chinese takeout. Your hands brace against your knees and you let yourself breathe. You can feel tears start to prick at your eyes but you're too drained to fight them off. You can't help but wonder what the hell that was all about. Your feelings for Nico aren't entirely a secret to anyone, certainly not to yourself, though you hope you've always held your composure well enough. You're always hiding your blushing cheeks when he flirts and batting away Nicole and Amber's teasing when they catch you smiling to yourself after leaving the kitchen. But you always held it arm's length, knowing it was all just part of the fun with Nico. It can't ever be serious with him, it just can't be.

"Y/N."

His voice is like a rasps against the wind. You brush your eyes quickly, straightening up as Nico jogs haphazardly towards you.

"Why'd you leave so fast?" he says, breathing heavy as he catches up to you.

"Sorry, yeah, I um, I didn't realize how late it was," you lie.

"Are you mad or somethin'?"

You shake your head as he contemplates you. Eventually he leans against the wall next to you, pulling his vape out for a long pull, as if that's going to help him breathe any easier.

You shrug one shoulder up. "I didn't want to overstay my welcome, is all," you admit quietly, trying to escape the track of his eyes on you. His lids are heavy almost closing as he rests his head back against the wall, yet he won't take his eyes off you. "Not possible for you to do that."

"I have to go, Nico." You say gently.

"Don't." Nico says, hand finding yours again. Entwining your fingers together, Nico tugs you towards him and you oblige, leaning against your side so you're facing him. His head falls into the crook of your neck and you can feel him nuzzling against the sensitive skin there.

"Nico," you protest without any real harshness or edge to your tone. Just a sadness that you can't mask the way you normally would.

"Stay," he pleads, hand trailing down your back. "Everyone else can leave, if it means you'll stay." His words murmur against your skin. Lips press against the side of your neck so gentle you're not sure you really feel anything at all. You sigh as he moves further up, letting him land soft little kisses up your neck to the nape of your ear. He nips at your lobe and that's when you have to push him away.

"Nico," you say firmly, putting a hand against his chest to make distance. He smirks as his head lolls back against the brick wall.

"C'mon baby," his hand hooks around your wrist, thumb running gentle circles. "I know you want me."

Your heart drops, sinking into the deepest pit of your stomach. You wretch away from him. "Don't be an asshole."

Nico's bloodshot eyes widen and he shakes his head as he stumbles forward trying to cling onto you again. "No, no, no. I want it too. YOU, I mean, I want YOU too."

He's holding onto your wrists, knees slightly bent as he sways in the non-existent wind. You're afraid he's going to fall down and you won't have the strength to pick him up so you walk him back towards the wall so he can lean against it. You try to pull your hand from him but he just holds on even tighter. "It's your birthday, you're drunk and you're just trying to get laid. There's a million girls in that club that would be happy to go home with you. Please don't do this to me, Nico. It's not fair. "

"They're not you. I don't want them."

"You don't want me either!" you laugh, incredulously.

Nico's mouth drops open, eyebrows shooting straight up as if they're going to hide in his bandana. "You're all I want!" You don't know how to respond to that. You stare back towards the club hoping Pickles or Carmine or someone will appear and come take him away so you can just go home and forget this entire night happened.

"I like you SO much," Nico confesses, eyes still wide and words slurring together. "Like, I haven't even quit once since you started working. Every time I get to see you it makes all the like bullshit worth it. I know it's kinda crazy, you and me. You deserve a lot better."

All the wind knocks out of you. You try to process what Nico is saying, justify it against the way his eyes glaze over with alcohol and weed. "You're drunk," you say again, an explanation.

"Yeah," he smiles, lopsided. "No way I'd ever tell you this shit if I wasn't."

And though his eyes are barely open there's a sincerity to his words. "You know," he continues, "I've seen our future, if we like, try this. It's all good baby, just me and you forever. 'Till the four kids of course."

"Four?" you laugh,"That seems like a lot."

"Okay maybe two, and a cat named Lucy."

"I'd like a cat," you smile, leaning against him as Nico wraps his arms around your waist. You can feel the stretch of his smile against your cheek as he spreads kisses across your face. He moves closer to your mouth and you can feel his lips reach out for yours. You catch his head between your palms. "Not while you're drunk," you reprimand gently.

"That's fair. I can fuck with that," Nico smiles. "Tomorrow then. I'm taking out for breakfast before our shift and I'mma kiss the shit out of you."

"Sure," you smile back. "IF you remember any of this."

"Oh, baby, I'll never forget it."

Nico grabs you, picking you up off the ground as he twirls you just slightly. You're a little afraid you're both going to fall and tumble to the ground but he makes it around a little half circle before setting you back down. You throw your arms around his neck, holding him close as he nuzzles deep against your cheek.

Your phone pings, notifying you of a text. You pull it out from your purse, swiping it open while Nico continues to nestle into you. It's from Nicole, a picture of she took of you and Nico dancing. In it you're pressed against him, face hidden in his collar as he looks down on you with an expression of pure serenity. Looking at it you can't help the butterflies that swarm within you. You hold Nico even tighter, hiding your big, wide grin against his hair.

[hypnoneghoul]

when you listen to the rhrn album can you please give your thoughts about like the mixing? Live albums typically don’t always have the greatest mixing but this one like confuses me

alright anon, I'm using your ask to make my official HYP TALKS RHRN SOUNDTRACK post

tag list: @devilsandstarlight @jazz-bazz @skele-bunny @azureseacloud @lilhoechlinsbae @delusionalbitchinthehouse @fallen-iii-ghost

A disclaimer, any negative-leaning take is not hate or "I would've done a better job" (because I would not), it's only my opinion that I was asked for multiple times due to what I do here on tumblr

Okay so I can divide the tracks in two categories when it comes to mixing and all that stuff:

1. Awesome mixing – more depth, better instrumental and vocal balance – Spillways – Cirice – Call Me Little Sunshine – Twenties – Marry On A Cross – Kiss The Go-Goat – Dance Macabre – Square Hammer

2. Less fortunate mixing – some flatness and chunkiness, less balance – Kaisarion – Rats – Faith – Absolution – Watcher In The Sky – Rats – Miasma – Respite On The Spitalfields

I’m not putting If You Have Ghosts into any of these categories because it’s a different world entirely. It’s actually just brilliant, but it’s not as hard to find balance with so few and such instruments as with the other songs on the album. I think Copia is a little too sharp for this vibe and I'm pretty sure they tried to help with reverb. It was a nice touch, but I think it could’ve been more smoothed out. But also I kinda hear Terzo in the second half of it, not Copia, SORRY. The vocal ghoulette could’ve been put either fully on the middle or all stretched all around to surround Copia and the instrumental and fill the space, if that makes sense

In general the mixing is strange in some places, even in the better made songs, it’s just like they lose the plot sometimes. It's possible (and very likely) that it was prepared with vinyls or CDs in mind, not headphones, but that doesn't explain why sometimes it's better and sometimes worse. Some general stuff about mixing I picked out:

1. Dew isn't really on the right, he's more to the middle than Aeon who's totally to the left. Dew could be louder actually in some places, Aeon could be stretched more to the middle 2. Bass has a great definition, we can finally hear how nice some fillers are and how good Rain actually is 3. The girls got some very much deserved highlights, but they did Swiss dirty. I’m outraged for my bbg, but not only because I love him. It would be a genuinely better technical decision if he was louder and/or placed somewhere else. The entire thing is very off balance. It's lead guitar and strong female vocals on the right, and rhythm and basically nothing (Swiss) on the left. It just doesn't make any sense!!!

Now some stuff about specific songs:

1. Rats – So dirty, the mixing failed a little here, the audience just sounds like noise instead of actual good background – DEW DID A PINCH HARMONIC (I manifested it) – Cirrus!!! It’s hard to hear her most of the time and she rocks here – Aeon and Dew had a very good harmony, they work so good together wtf (sorry Aether but they win here)

2. Faith – Aurora and Cumulus completely slay – I adore Dewdrop’s little addition to the 1st solo – But he missed a note in the 2nd solo heh

3. Spillways – FINALLY Swiss in Spillways – It’s the best mixed song in general and I’m not only saying that because of Swiss (who I love), all the instruments and voices are balanced so much better and so much more fluid – There’s less tone definition on bass though

4. Cirice – Dew does some fancy lil harmonic tricks in Cirice, I LIKE – It’s also very well balanced when it comes to instrument, SWISS IS AUDIBLE – Something went WRONG with Cirrus’ synth here, like omfg they did my girl dirty

5. Absolution – I talked about Absolution extensively here

6. Watcher In The Sky – Love the synth on it, why not do that setup for Cirice pls – But also Swiss is always the loudest at the beginning, why not here!? – It’s on the worse list, but it’s not horrible, the backing synths fill it nicely so it’s not as chunky as Rats for example – I think someone forgor Dew is lead, not Aeon, but at least we can appreciate the bug’s skill some more like that – Mounty slamming those bitches at the end, go baby!

7. Twenties – Very glad they highlighted the drums and the bass so much in this one, it’s what Twenties is FOR – Both Dew and Aeon’s palm muting game is so yummy here – Oh, Swiss how I love you – But what are they doing with the solo mixing, why is the bitch moving at the beginning? It’s like someone was late to press some buttons (It might have been on purpose but trying to do some fancy effects doesn’t always work)

8. Miasma – Miasma lands somewhere between the worse and better mixing category but that might be the lack of vocals which takes away some of the needed balance, but it is rather chunky – I don’t like the synths shoved totally into my left ear but that’s just me, not an actual flaw – But then what are they doing at c. 3 minutes??? Again, more fancy doesn’t always mean better and Miasma is fancy and full enough as it is – I think the mixing in Miasma changes from worse to better along the way because the ending is so much better and smoother, around when the sax comes in so they might’ve adjusted some things just to fit it – OMG RAINY GO FANCY AT THE END (the tiniest solo ever <3)

9. Mary On A Cross – Cumulus oh my fuckckk – The vocals before the chorus is such a good touch, nice ascend into the change in melody, love it – Same with Aurora’s solo part the next time, it’s so good that they put her on the middle for that, it’s perfect – The girls do slay the end but Swiss could balance it nicely if only he were just a tiny bit loudeeeeer – And again what are wed doing with these weirdly sustained layered synths??? That’s just slightly unnecessary

10. Respite On The Spitalfields – Swiss should be louder here, too – Respite is in the slightly worse category because this one sounds very flat to me for most part, it’s like only the drums and bass give any depth (or rather force some depth into it) – Once again Aeon’s palm muting is top tier – Girls slaying as usual – I’m not sure why the strings are just forcefully shoved behind Dew but okay… – The mixing here is a crime!!! It’s so flat and this is a song that deserves to be all around and fully immerse you. I’m actually sad about that one – And where are the solo vocal parts???

11. Kiss The Go-Goat – Now why is KTGG deeper and more melodic than Respite??? We’ll never know ig, but yeah, it’s on the better category – Did Nihil fucking mix this album or what??? – Cirrus’ solo in KTGG should be as loud as Dew’s, period

12. Dance Macabre – Dance Macabre is on the better category too, you can even hear Swiss – Glorious bass here

13. Square Hammer – Now Squammer, very good mixing for the finish but I still think that the girls should be more to the middle and wider, especially in backing vocal heavy tracks like this one – YES Dew bestie go ham on it at the end, slay, make your tech angry – OHHHH AEON’S THING UGHGFHNGHGHHG (he was probably wobbling his pickup switch with one of them turned off so it was basically sound on–off–on–off)

Also not really from the technical side but they cut out some strong tracks and it's honestly a big shame :(

Some gear stuff nobody will hear but me (/hj): 1. Rain definitely still has steel strings ‘cause COME ON, the TONE!!! 2. Aeon’s palm muting skills rock 3. The difference between Aeon’s ceramic humbuckers on the Fantomen and Dewdrop’s Hot Rail single coils is on the Strat so prominent AHHH 4. Aeon missed on the CMLS solo a little but Dew covered him up hjfgsdh 5. Slightly funny addition, but I love that Aurora’s voice and Dewdrop’s guitar can be mistaken for one another sometimes because of the tone and pitch lmfao

And that's it heh I'll gladly elaborate on some aspects or answer any questions that might come up so you know, my askbox and dms are open :3

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 12

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 3.2k

Content: little bit of throwing up (alcohol induced)

A/N: thanks to @quarter-life-crisis2 for beta-ing the first part of this! This is now the second time I'm posting this so i have nothing more to say lmao

Chapter Eleven | Masterlist | Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Twelve – Peaches pt.2 

You stood outside Yoongi’s front door, pie held carefully in your hands, breathing deeply, taking a moment to try to soothe your nerves. It was outrageous, you thought, that you could be this nervous. It was Yoongi. On the other hand, it was Yoongi. It was not every day that you confessed to harbouring romantic feelings for one of your best friends. It was not every day that you ripped yourself open and placed your fluttering heart before them, hoping, praying that they felt the same.  

It was not every day, but it was today.  

You squared your shoulders, shuffled the pie so it rested on the palm of one hand, and used the other to key in the entry code.  

“I’m here!” you called as you strode in and shut the door behind you. 

You could hear and smell cooking from the kitchen, music on low in the background. You kicked off your shoes and took a deep breath. You had run over a hundred different scenarios, a hundred different scenes; sometimes you just kissed him; sometimes you prepared a long, thoughtful speech; sometimes you played it casual; sometimes you told him you loved him; sometimes, even in your thoughts, you chickened out entirely; sometimes he rejected you and sometimes he didn’t. You always cried.  

You were still standing in the hallway, staring up at the invisible obstacle in front of you when Yoongi approached, spatula in hand, frown on his face. You tried hard not to notice how cute he was with his apron on, how domestic. You tried to stop your mind flying forward to a future where he cooked all your dinners, or you cooked them together, in the house you shared. You needed to keep a level head. 

“Oh,” he said when he saw you. “I thought I heard you come in but then you didn’t appear. Why are you just standing there?” 

Good question.  

You chuckled awkwardly and walked into the apartment fully, straight to the kitchen where you set down your pie on the counter. 

“What’s in it?” Yoongi asked. 

“It’s peach and nectarine,” you answered, wondering if he would remember, if he might understand its significance. 

“It’s what?” 

“Peach and nectarine.” 

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, expectant. 

“It’s what?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes; your heart sang. You gave him a huge, dramatic sigh. 

“It’s peachtarine pie.” 

“Damn fucking straight.” 

He was in a good mood. You liked that. That had to bode well, right? 

“Do you want a drink?”  

Yes, you were offering him his own alcohol in his own house, but you felt like you needed it. You should have had one before you came out but time hadn’t allowed.  

“Sure, there’s wine in the fridge.” 

Not the sort of drink you had in mind. You checked in his fridge for soju and, finding none, walked around to his drinks cabinet where you deliberated between tequila and vodka, eventually plumping for vodka. Tequila gave party vibes which wasn’t exactly what you were going for. You returned to the kitchen and poured two shots.  

“Here.” 

You nudged Yoongi – who had turned back to the stove – and handed him the drink. 

“Wow, really? Are we celebrating or commiserating something?”  

He knocked back the shot anyway and you did the same, cursing Yoongi in your head for not keeping soju – or anything more palatable – in the house.  

“Nope. Just because.” 

“Ok, party girl.” 

He waved the glass out towards you, asking for another, which you gratefully gave, taking one more for yourself, too. That was a little more like it. You felt looser already. A little Dutch courage can go a long way.  

“What are you cooking for me?” 

You moved from the other side of the counter and stood next to him, peering into the two dolsots bubbling away. 

“Haemul sundubu.”  

“Yum, thanks.” 

“It’s almost done; there’s banchan in the fridge. And the wine I said I actually wanted to drink.” 

He grinned down at you and you hip-checked him, moving away to set the table and pour more drinks.  

You hadn’t decided when you were going to tell him. You had told yourself that you would show up and you’d just know when was the right moment; you knew now that that was bullshit and you should have come more prepared. The fear of spoiling everything was rapidly creeping up on you; Yoongi was in a good mood and you were having so much fun. You knew the second you opened your mouth to tell him, everything would change. Even if it was what you wanted, what you were hoping for, even if he said everything you most wanted to hear, it would change things. It was the last night of your friendship, for better or for worse. You felt desperately like you had to make the most of the evening, make the most of everything you had right now: the ease, the comfort, the little sparks of something more when he laughed at your jokes, when he smiled at you, when you got to touch him even a little. There would be no going back. So you delayed your jump into the unknown a little longer and it settled your nerves. It put off the moment and you could relax, at least for an hour or two. 

* 

The addition of a film after dinner had continued; it was supposed to be your night to pick but you couldn’t focus on making a decision so Yoongi picked one for you. You didn’t care. You weren’t even sure what it was, even though it had been on in front of you for the last hour and a half. You couldn’t have explained the plot if you’d been offered a lottery jackpot for it.  

You had your legs thrown over Yoongi, leaning towards him, sitting as you did every time now. He was slouching deep into the corner, his feet on the coffee table, picking idly at the threads of the holes in your jeans as he watched; your heart skipped every time his fingertips brushed the bare skin beneath. 

You could almost hear a clock tick as time went by, you still not having said a thing. It was coming. You knew it was coming. You knew you had to say something; you had steeled yourself for this. You had promised yourself you would do it. You had promised everyone: Taehyung, Nina, San. You had made Taehyung go to your apartment and wait on standby, so he could be there with no delay if it was a ‘no’. You had to do this. You were going to do this. And it had to be now. 

You reached out and put your hands on his, toying with his fingers. His immediately stilled and there was a twitch that told you he was going to pull them back, out of reach, but you held on. You kept his little finger in your hands, mindlessly fidgeting with it, finding yourself unable to look up at him. 

“Yoongi?”  

Your face was already hot, your heart already racing. He grunted inquisitively and you felt his eyes move to you. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You were still looking at his hands, your stomach doing somersaults; you wished you hadn’t indulged in so much stew now that it was threatening to come back up the way it went down.  

“Are you ok?” 

You nodded, your throat feeling choked already.  

“I, um... Do you ever... think about me?” 

You risked a glance up at him; he seemed surprised by your question and then confused. He leant forward, feet on the ground, taking his hand from yours to reach for the control and stop the film. Then he sat back, not slouching this time, and looked down at you again. You focused on your hands. 

“I mean,” you continued, before he could answer, “I mean that-… I- sometimes, just recently, I... I think, I have feelings for you.”  

Your face burnt so hot, it brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t know what to say next; usually your mouth did all the talking for you but it had dried up. And Yoongi wasn’t saying anything. You tried to speak and nothing but a croak came out so you cleared your throat and gave it another shot. This was not how you had imagined it going; it was supposed to be smoother than this, more confident. You hadn’t expected to be this meek; you weren’t meek. But the weight of this exchange was crushing. 

“I just mean that... Recently, I’ve felt... different... and I- I guess I just wondered if maybe you ever felt like... that. About me.” 

It took all you had to look up at him, to try to gauge his reaction, see if you could divine what he was thinking through his face. It was closed, impassive, inscrutable in a way that reminded you of when you first met—his silence in that third class, which you had put down to his ex, but he had never actually explained. You felt the same way as you had back then. You were sticky with nervous sweat, hot and flustered. Embarrassed and self-conscious and burning like you’d been skinned alive. The anxiety was rising in you, a panic that said it was going to go sideways, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. That something had already gone wrong. You tried to talk yourself out of it but the longer he stayed quiet, the harder it became.  

“Yoongi?” you whispered, the sound barely making it out of your throat, when the seconds felt stretched to minutes. 

He wasn’t looking at you; he was staring straight ahead until he gave you a millisecond’s glance and shook his head. You waited, again, for him to say something else, to say anything at all. There was nothing giving him away. You knew him better than this; you could read him; you could sense how he felt. But not now. Not now at a moment when you really needed it.  

“No?” you asked when he still said no more. 

He was looking down now, not at you but somewhere on the floor. There was pink at the tips of his ears; his cheeks just barely rosy. He shook his head again and cleared his throat. 

“No,” he confirmed, just as quiet as you were, his voice just as strained. 

“Oh.”  

Your attempt to mask the gasp you gave when trying to gulp in air was poor but you couldn’t bear the thought of bursting into tears, here and now. They pooled thick in your eyes and blinking them back only sent them scurrying, falling, streaming down your face in a deluge. You opened and closed your mouth, gaping, fish-like, a few times before you found the composure to reply. 

“Ok.” Your voice wavered. “That’s fine. Yeah, ok, friends I guess then.” 

You weren’t looking directly at him—there was no way you could—but you saw him, from the corner of your eye, nod, two almost invisible dips of his head. You removed your legs from over his, curling them under you, trying to keep your breathing in check. You didn’t know what to do now. You didn’t understand. You thought about what Namjoon had said, the way he had seemed so confident. Didn’t Namjoon know Yoongi? Surely he wouldn’t have encouraged you if he had known Yoongi didn’t feel the same.  

There was a tearing in your chest that felt like collapse. It had been quick at least. But it was sharp. You wiped at your wet face, wishing Yoongi would just say something, anything would do. You felt shut out, iced out, pushed out. Rejected. Which was exactly what you were. In an instant, he had moved a thousand miles away as he stayed sitting next to you on the sofa. You had never felt farther from him than you did at that second. It made your stomach sink like a stone in the sea. It made your hands go weak, incapable of holding a hand even if he’d let you. It made your blood burn with shame like the acid rising in your throat.  

Of all your hundreds of scenarios, all the practices you’d run in your head, none of them went like this. You always talked about it, sometimes you even argued, but it was never this. This silence, thick like fog, choking like smog, resting over you. You began to feel smothered, suffocated by it. You couldn’t breathe for fear of falling apart; you had to get out.  

Yoongi stayed still, looking at the floor, his fingers worrying a loose thread on his trousers. Did he want you to leave? Did he want you to stay? You couldn’t know and were not able to wait to find out. 

“I guess,” you said, when you found the ability to speak without sobbing, “I should just go.”  

Yoongi turned to you then, his face for a second wearing a look of panic. He opened his mouth as you stood and you waited for him, gave him a few seconds to tell you to stay, or encourage you to leave. He said nothing. So you walked, with heavy feet and a heavier heart, to the door.  

Yoongi followed you, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his fingers twisting around one another. You stooped to put on your shoes and it was only when you were leaning on the door handle that he said anything. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You looked back at him as you stood in his doorway; you blinked away more tears and you could almost have sworn you saw tears in his eyes, too. You didn’t stop longer to make sure. You turned tail and ran.  

* 

You had managed to hold in your sobs in the taxi ride back to your apartment; you couldn’t stop the constant leak of tears from your eyes, but you just about kept a lid on the worst of it. Then you flung open your door and fell to the floor, gasping and choking and barely able to breathe. 

Taehyung was by your side in a second, scooping you into his arms, stroking your back, pressing kisses into your hair, letting you make his T-shirt wet and snotty, not saying anything, knowing you weren’t listening anyway.  

You couldn’t quite believe it. Not because Yoongi hadn’t wanted you, but because you hadn’t anticipated it going like that. Because you didn’t understand. Because you somehow thought that there would be discussion; you could, now, think of things that you wanted to say, things you wanted to talk about; every thought and idea that had eluded you then flooded back now. You thought of the many ways you had broached the topic in your head and wondered why you did it like that. That wasn’t what you had planned. You hadn’t been clear, had you? Or you hadn’t got your point across? Or maybe you did? You just couldn’t tell. You were, entirely, in disarray. 

You also had to ask yourself, did it matter? If Yoongi didn’t feel that way about you, did it matter how he told you? Did it matter what he said or didn’t? Did it matter how you said it? He had clearly known what you meant because he had given you his answer. You had the answer you were looking for—you had the answer to your question, even if it wasn’t the one you had been looking for. The rest was irrelevant.  

* 

The emergency treatment for your heartbreak was booze and a lot of it. So much, in fact, that you ended the night with your head in the toilet, that seafood stew finally making its burning way back up, Taehyung standing behind you rubbing your back and making sure your hair was out of the way.  

He put you to bed, tucked you up nicely and, at your insistence, curled up next to you, where you clung to him like a koala, desperate to not be alone. 

Yoongi stood, gasping, at his door, unable to catch his breath. He was familiar enough with panic attacks to know that this wasn’t one, but he nevertheless sank to the floor and began walking himself through it. He focused on the inhale and the exhale, the counting that accompanied each usually uncomplicated step of breathing. He needed to focus on that. Anything so that he didn’t have to focus on what had just happened.  

Panic. That was one word for it. Insanity. That might have been another. Stupidity, certainly. He hadn’t expected it, could not have seen it coming even from a mile off. Nothing had seemed different. You were the same as you ever were; things between the two of you were normal. 

And then you asked him that.  

And he’d wanted to say yes. He was trying to. He wanted to open up to you and respond in kind and see if maybe something, anything, could have happened.  

But he couldn’t. The words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t force them out, couldn’t make himself say it. He could see it all crumbling; as if he had been watching from outside his body, he had seen it. He had seen himself fail, let you down, lie to you.  

And he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t understand the gut-wrenching, visceral fear that had gripped him when you spoke, when you looked up at him—timid and shy like he had never seen you before—and asked if he ever thought about you, said that you had feelings for him. Like a pair of icy hands, one on his heart and one around his throat, it took such strong hold of him that he literally felt strangled: couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do a thing that might have led him to happiness. 

And then you left. In tears. Because of Yoongi. He wouldn’t forgive himself for that. He probably wouldn’t forgive himself for any of it, but his own pain, he could handle. He was used to that. Causing you pain? Before tonight he would have said it was unthinkable. He would never.  

But he had. He had lied; he had rejected you; he had let you run out of his apartment with barely a word said.  

He had lost you. That was it. He couldn’t see redemption, couldn’t see a way to walk this back. Not a hurt this big. Not a stupid, pointless, embarrassing lie like this was. It was over.  

He couldn’t forgive himself for that either.  

* 

He stayed on the floor in the hallway until his legs started screaming for him to move, then a little longer. It wasn’t until Cherry came to chase him into bed that he stood up, walking straight through the apartment to his bedroom, not looking anywhere but straight ahead, not daring to glance at the scene of the crime, the scene of his immodest failure, a scene the very thought of which made him feel sick.  

He fell onto his bed and stayed there until Sunday.  

Chapter Eleven | Masterlist | Chapter Thirteen

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804 

[animeyanderetalker]

I know you haven't watched Boruto, but maybe you have heard when you grow up. Sasuke hasn't been there for his daughter, Sarada, for her first years, along with Naruto who supposedly wasn't there for his kids like for ex: Being there for his daughter's birthday and always away on hokage's work.

Now just imagine if Sasuke & Naruto would do the same for their darling and their kids, and their kids be upset and they're just confused on as to why.

And maybe the darling be bitterly telling them "Maybe if you spend time with your kids, you would care enough to know."

And they aren't saying this to be mean, just angry like their kids cause they aren't doing what fathers are supposed to do.

*Okay, maybe with Sasuke's darling, she would be kinda mean cause Sasuke is a bastard, but even he would know she is right about one thing, his lack of presence in their kid's life

Honestly, this is one of the first reasons why I have always been a bit hesitant to watch Boruto. With Sasuke I'd be inclined to understand it a bit more since I don't expect him to be all clingy and sweet with his children but considering that he himself was often neglected by his own father I at least expected him to put him a bit more effort. Especially since Sarada is an Uchiha and for that is going to develop a Sharingan and he is at the end of Shippuden the last of his clan so I thought he'd at least tutor his own child a bit instead of being the stereotypical dad who is never in his child's life until they're teenagers.

As for Naruto with him i was especially disappointed when i read those things. Naruto should know best how lonely it is without parents and him missing his daughter's birthday despite having promised to be there just sounds terrible.

I'm personally not a fan of writing Hc's about characters I write for as Yanderes be abusive/overly neglective parents.

As for Sasuke he is more likely to not always be there. He travels a lot and sometimes he just needs time for himself although he's always keeping a watchful eye out for his darling and their children. He's going to understand you though if you accuse him for not always being there though he will be slightly outraged if you were ever to accuse him of being a bad parent because at the end of the day Sasuke is fully prepared to step over mountains of corpses if his children or you should ever be in danger.

Naruto on the other hand I have a hard time picturing personally as a neglectful parent. Sure, his duties as a Hokage consume some time but after the war there aren't really any great threats left which means that the era is quite peaceful and for that there isn't any great pressure nor enemy he'd have to worry about. Even if there would be a powerful enemy out there I just can't see him neglecting or even forgetting the birthday of his children. If he spends less time with his family due to stress he's probably going to apologise to his darling and his children whilst embracing all of them in a big hug and smothering them with kisses.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Drugged Hero Whumpee used as Party Favor at Villain's Party part 18

Warnings: living weapon whumpee, blood, forced betrayal, friend pitted against friend, forced fight, dying, bullet wounds

Shadow stared up into Ava's face, and saw a subtle shift in her expression, some of the cloudiness in her eyes dissipating, though not entirely.

Ava slowly took the dagger away from Shadow's chest, rising up to stand. She stared down at her for a long moment, before suddenly offering a stiff hand. Shadow took it, letting Ava pull her to her feet. Ava's face was still mostly blank like Archenemy had trained her to look, but Shadow could sense that her allegiance had shifted.

"Glad to have you back, Ava," Shadow breathed in relief.

"I'm not sure how 'back' my current state of mind counts as, but I guess I'll take what I can get. I don’t fully remember you, but something tells me you're in the right here." Ava turned to face Archenemy, features hardening with newfound resolve.

Archenemy had the audacity to look offended and outraged as Shadow came to stand beside her friend. "I always knew you were too easily swayed for my line of work," he snarled at Ava. "Siding with the enemy. I thought I taught you better."

"You taught me how to fight," Ava answered flatly, stepping forward. "You never seemed to fully appreciate my progress, always finding fault with my technique. But now you can judge my skill from the receiving end of that technique and see if my progress fits your standards." Ava stiffened, preparing to lunge, when Shadow heard a quiet yet distinct click, and realized that Archenemy had one hand hidden behind his back. She knew that sound.

"Ava, watch out!" There wasn't time to think -- Shadow's body was already in motion before she'd even registered it, shoulder-charging Ava and knocking her to the side. A deafening bang left her ears ringing and the air raw and buzzing, a sudden flash of pain hitting her shoulder. She went down hard, breaking a wrist by the feel of it. Adrenaline flooded all her senses, and she lurched back to her feet, shaky but ready to defend herself and Ava by any means. But apparently she wasn't needed.

Shadow got up just in time to see Ava unleash all of hell's fury onto Archenemy, flinging her hands out with a fierce cry and sending a powerful soundwave slashing through the air, that slammed into Archenemy with a concussive amount of force, sending him flying. He hit the far wall with a sickening crack, and fell into a lifeless heap on the floor as his spine snapped. A mercifully quick death, more than he deserved. Ava looked shocked a second later, staring down at her hands like she didn't know what to do with them now.

Shadow could feel the warm blood sliding down her shoulder, and it suddenly occurred to her that the wound should already be starting to close. "Uh... A-Ava? I'm... I'm not healing..." Her voice was faint -- she'd lost more blood than she'd thought. The bullet must have nicked an artery.

Ava was at her side in an instant, barely catching her as her legs gave out. She gently lowered Shadow to the floor, inspected the injury, face falling. "Looks like that gun was loaded with power-suppressing ammunition," Ava said grimly. "Archenemy taught me about it. He said the effects can last up to half an hour."

"I don't think I have half an hour in me," Shadow slurred. "...I'm going to die, aren't I? For real this time?"

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Hi hey hello Aly please can you rank the new directions according to how well they would do at preparing a holiday meal? I'm thinking like cooking a turkey or ham or something, all the different sides, dessert, etc etc.

HI BELLA MY BELOVED YES OFC I CAN DO THAT!!!! I'm only going to do like. OG New Directions, so like the mains from s1-2 lol

Coming in dead last at #13, we have: Rachel Berry! Girl can't cook. There is canonical evidence to support this from the season four thanksgiving episodes so I rest my case.

Next up, Finn Hudson at #12! Truthfully i think he would just be so overwhelmed by all of it and fall apart. I DO think he would make a FANTASTIC assistant though

Next, at #11: Mercedes Jones: I think she can probably follow a recipe better than Rachel, but she is a doordash girlie just like me fr i know this to be true in MY SOUL. Miss "What is this?" "Toilet brush." does not know how to make things from scratch but i fully support her love for tater tots <3

The #10 slot goes to Brittany S. Pierce! It's not that I think she can't cook. I think she would cook some of the most OUTRAGEOUS things really really well. I'm talking the shepherd's pie trifle thing from Friends except ON PURPOSE. The most heinous shit and she would genuinely like it but it's objectively terrible

First one to reach single digits at the #9 slot, we've got Puck. Lost a few spots bc he'd probably put weed in the desserts without telling anyone

#8 goes to Michael Chang! I just feel like he can follow instructions. Might not be perfect, but edible and not spiked with any illegal substances.

Up with the #7 spot is Artie Abrams! Being someone who is wheelchair bound, I feel like he prides himself on being self sufficient and learning basic cooking skills is something he'd take the time to learn. I don't think it would be gourmet or anything, but i do think it would give tasty comfort food

Coming in at #6 I put, and this might be controversial, Santana Lopez! Listen. One thing about mexicans is that we know how to cook. Something just happens and i truly believe it's in out genes but one day you just sort of wake up and realize that you don't burn your hand flipping tortillas on the grill, and i feel like those skills would translate really well to a christmas/thanksgiving dinner--especially all the traditional mexican holiday dishes? i think she'd secretly take a lot of comfort in making those for her found family

Breaching the top 5 at #5 is Tina Cohen-Chang! I feel like she's done it a couple of times with her own family and probably helped out in the kitchen growing up, just to be helpful. Generally, she seems pretty competent too so there's that

#4 goes to my beloved Sam Evans. My man practically had to raise his siblings, there is not a doubt in my mind that he already HAS made a whole ass holiday meal with what he could and it probably came out fucking delicious too! It Just Makes Sense!!

Alright up in the #3 slot is yet another one of my faves, the puppetmaster himself, Blaine Devon Anderson! Cooking pancakes for his fiance in the morning?? HIs love language is acts of service and you just know he'd love all the compliments and then brush them off like "Oh it really was nothing" but this man THRIIIIIIIVES on the love of his peers!!! Of course he's gonna cook for them!

Our runner up, taking her place firmly at the #2 slot is the Queen of McKinley, the one, the only Quinn Fabray! This one also Just Makes Sense. She was primed from a young age to basically be a trophy wife. Which. Hate that for her but I wouldn't doubt her mom had her prepping the sides at like, age ten. Her parents def would trot her skills out like a trick pony and show off how well she can "provide" for a future husband or some shit like that. Anyway, i like to think she uses these skills to make holiday dinners for those who don't have anywhere else to go <3

AND TAKING OUR TOP SPOT HERE IS LITERALLY THE MOST CHARACTER EVER: Kurt Hummel!!!!! This is literally canon. You can disagree with me on this, but you'd be wrong, His body is LITERALLY a rum chocolate souffle--if he doesn't warm it up, it doesn't rise. He makes tar-tar for housewarming parties for his future stepbrother. He planned a whole ass wedding. He realy can do it all I'm so obsessed with his little freak ass <333

THANKS SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS!!!! I put... way too much thought into it, but i had SUCH a blast!!! <3333

they evicted my teeth. pls send me asks while i recover <3

[daidonzo]

Chapter 13 - Come love me [Chishiya x Reader]

You sat on the floor of Chishiya's room, your legs crossed, a pen in your right hand and a white piece of paper in front of you.

"What was what Kuina said again?" The blonde man asked, eyebrows raised.

"So, you have to draw a tree…" You started to do so. You drew roots, a trunk with a hole in the middle (there was a squirrel living there, but you were definitely not an artist and chose to leave that detail to the imagination of the viewer… Until you thought better about it and painted an arrow pointed at the hole, writing the world squirrel next to it, because not everyone would reach the same conclusion as you). "And the way you do it is supposed to tell you a lot about yourself."

"I see. Do you know you stick out your tongue when you concentrate on something?"

"Yes. Inheritance from dad."

He smiled, but you couldn't see it, fully invested in your painting as you were.

You had spent the day hanging out with Kuina and Tatta, Chishiya having been in an executive meeting for most of it. The Hatter had left for a game a few hours ago, having to finally renew his visa and you guessed he probably wanted to make sure everything would be okay during his absence.

That was when Kuina had told you about the tree-drawing theory, something a therapist had explained to her long ago.

And, since life without a phone or streaming services or a beautiful blonde man by your side was pretty boring, you had decided to try and psychoanalize yourself. Chishiya had entered the room when you were about to start.

You kept drawing, adding leaves here and there, but because it was autumn, most of them were on the ground. In your head, it all made sense.

"Finished!" You exclaimed, lifting the piece of paper and showing it to Chishiya.

He examined it for a few minutes, clearly amused.

"It looks like a tree." He declared, solemnly.

"Yes, I know! But what does it say about me?"

"I already told you, I'm not a psychologist."

"Well, but think! Give me your honest opinion."

"That you like squirrels?"

"Not really. They are fine. I just think everyone has a right to decent housing."

Chishiya's brown eyes focused on you, and for a moment, he turned serious.

"You really are fascinating."

"Was it the trunk that told you that?"

He chuckled. You laughed out loud.

"I think it doesn't work when you don't have the answers. Like, what does a hollow trunk were a squirrel lives mean? The fact that most leaves are on the ground?"

"I don't know."

You sighed, left the pen on the floor and climbed to bed with him, putting your face next to his to take another look at your drawing. And because you enjoyed proximity.

"It still is a work of art."

"If you say so."

You opened your mouth in surprise, pretending to be outraged by what he was saying.

"Are you implying my art is not good?"

"You want an honest answer?"

"No. Lie to me."

"Deserves to be in a museum."

You burst into laughter, dropping the act. You actually did not feel offended at all. You knew painting and drawing were not among your talents.

"You can keep it. So that it reminds you of me, just in case."

"As if I needed anything to remember you."

But, as he said those words, he folded the piece of paper in half and placed it on the pocket of his white hoodie, which turns out you had not ruined with your little emotional outburst from before, because tears dried and left no stains. Good to know.

You smiled from ear to ear. He couldn't have said anything better.

"You look happy."

"I'm so happy I could sing."

Chishiya frowned, slightly. "Didn't know you liked singing."

"Well, I was not really serious, but I do like singing. You have heard me many times."

His half smile told you he was about to mess with you, but nothing could have prepared you for what he said afterwards.

"Ah. Yes, what was it? Holding hands won't be enough…?"

"In a world giving head to a gun."

Your cheeks flushed red when you answered. You had sang that song the day you were hanging out after holding hands for the first time, as a way to discreetly tell him you were desperate for more physical contact. How did he remember? You thought he hadn't been paying you attention.

You felt mortified. So you did what you knew best - kept talking.

"It's from a band I like. They have a lot of love songs. They are like rock n' roll but like rock n' roll for when you like someone. It's romantic but not too sappy. Or well, it is sappy but in a very artistic way. Like poetry. Like… Well, the song made me think of you, so I just sang it. I was trying to express myself."

"Do you have any other songs you would like to dedicate to me, then?"

"You are not about to get an a cappella concert from me, especially not for free."

"I'll give you something in return."

You were about to say no, never in a million years, that maybe in his dreams you would… But you didn't. Because while a part of you was scared of actually confessing your feelings to him, another actually wanted to say many, many things that you couldn't put into words that easily.

"Okay, there's one. I usually would also play guitar while singing, but you are just going to have to imagine. Don't laugh. I said I liked singing, not that I'm any good at it. I'm also not good at playing guitar, or any instrument. Like, I'm not awful, but I'm not particularly good either, not by any means." You kept going, nervous as you were. You took a deep breath and…

Here lies a heart that feels Touched by fire, howling at the moon for you Caught in dusk, heartstrings out of tune From the abyss pirouette my way back to you Come love me numb Come love me till it hurts Dance the neon noir with me Come love me

That was awful. You had closed your eyes while you were singing and were almost afraid to open them and find him laughing. But you still did.

And he was staring at you, expresionless. And for the thousandth time, you wished he was a tiny bit easier to read. You felt like you were drowning and he was just looking at the water instead of helping.

He placed his hand on the back of your neck, making all the hairs on your body stand on end, pulling you closer.

And his lips were on yours.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, the shock of it giving you no chance to react properly to it. A million thoughts running around your head, how wonderful it had been, how worth the wait, how you wanted many, many more…

"I feel like a siren." You whispered, remembering the mythological beings, half bird, half beautiful woman, that were known for their bewitching voices and that lured sailors to their death with their song.

You almost wanted to punch yourself right after. That's all you had to say after a first kiss!?

Chishiya laughed, luckily finding the comment a lot more endearing than you did.

"Like I said, you are fascinating."

[rikki-roses]

Fluffy February Day 8: Smile

SWTOR

Pairing: Kevra Kallig/Andronikos Revel

Time Period: Shortly after the end of Corellia/end of Inquisitor storyline

A/N: I'm imagining she wore something like this (AKA, now I need to comm someone to draw her wearing it lol):

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fact that they had a spur-of-the-moment courthouse wedding on Iridonia didn't stop Kevra from wearing the most glittery, over-the-top gothic ballgown wedding dress she could get her hands on. Ashara, following her lead, found a similarly-outrageous bridesmaid dress.

When they met Andronikos and the rest of the crew on the courthouse steps, he stopped and stared, his jaw slowly dropping.

Then his mouth spread into the giant, goofy, shit-eating grin that Kevra had fallen in love with. They entered the courthouse together, lost in their own world, all-but-oblivious to their surroundings.

Andronikos held the grin throughout the entire ceremony, his eyes never leaving Kevra. And she couldn't help it; by the time the ceremony was over and they were officially wed, her smile matched his.

The dress's sheer volume didn't stop Andronikos from sweeping up Kevra and carrying her bridal-style out of the courthouse. He only put her down two blocks later when their group stopped at the closest diner.

But the shit-eating grins never left throughout dinner, despite them getting more than a few looks for being grossly overdressed for a hole-in-the-wall diner. Despite all that had happened on Corellia with her twin, this was the happiest Kevra had been in years.

The shit-eating grins stayed as their group went bar-hopping, ending at a club; they danced and drank, not caring that they were still technically overdressed.

It was late at night before they made it back to the ship; the rest of the crew had filtered back before them. Andronikos had to help Kevra out of the dress; it was immediately hung up in their bedroom so that Kevra could have it dry-cleaned and prepped for proper presentation.

They curled up in bed together, but they were both too energetic from the day's events to be able to sleep. They enjoyed the silence for a long moment before Andronikos finally spoke.

"So, now that we're actually legit, do we want to actually go exclusive, or keep things open?"

Kevra shrugged as she draped herself across him. "I'm fine maintaining the status quo. As long as you remember your priorities, of course."

"Don't worry, babe. I've seen how scary you can be; I know you could toss me around like a huttball with just your pinky if you were so inclined."

Kevra scrambled fully on top of Andronikos as she kissed him.

"Good man."

The shit-eating grins stayed for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kevra, unsurprisingly, was the only one not hungover in the morning; she had the highest alcohol tolerance out of the crew. Feeling generous, Kevra helped 2V-R8 prepare caf and pancakes for everyone. She couldn't explain why she chose pancakes - she didn't normally eat them - but the choice felt right, somehow.

Their efforts paid off; she earned sleepy smiles from nearly everyone (except for Khem, who was rather bewildered by the sheer existence of pancakes, and wasn't sure how to react to them.)

Kevra felt a self-satisfied smile cross her lips. At last, she was finally content.

[bykary95]

Chapter 2: The First Adventures

-...and then I found that creek, I was thirsty, so I started to drink, wash my face and clean this ugly wound-

-Woah... a whole fire rain? That explains those really weird dark clouds I saw up north, I guess that's where the fortress is- said Edward amazed -I saw it right a moment before an arrow killed my horse-

-Whelp, I guess the fortress is not there anymore, before I could escape, the entire place was collapsing-

-Between just you and me... glad to hear it, I hope they don't find any other place to torture innocent people-

While they were walking through the path, some lights started to light up the night, they were arriving at the town

-Welcome to Endercreek!-

It was a nice, small town, next to a river, with a tavern, a sawmill, a store, and a workshop, there was a bunch of guards patrolling the roads, and a bridge at the other side of the town, crossing the river

-Oh! this is a nice place- Ranboo was in awe

-Yeah, I grew up here, I am glad that at least there is one piece of land where peace exists-

Ranboo followed Edward through the main road, untill they stopped in front of a house

-Well, this is my house, come in! Make yourself at home!-

They get in, and as soon as Ranboo was inside, he felt comfy with the warm ambience, and the smell of food

-Honey! I'm home!- said Edward

From the kitchen, a smiling women came -Eddie! Honey! I didn't know we would have guests!-

-This man here saved my life... a loose arrow killed the horse and it fell over my leg!-

-Oh my! Are you okay Edward?- the woman aproached him, checking for wounds or something

-Yes honey, I am okay, my fellow here, Ranboo, is the one who need help... he was attacked by a giant spider!-

-Oh geez! Please come here!- took Ranboo by the arm and guided him to a couch -Take a rest-

Edward went for some herbal ingredients, and went to an alchemy table

Ranboo looked at him with curiosity -Are you a potion crafter or some sort?-

-I am an alchemist, I was looking for some fresh ingredients when my horse took the arrow to the head-

The woman went back to the kitchen to prepare the food, and Edward gave the potion to Ranboo -Here, drink it! This one's on the house!- and smiles

Ranboo drinks the potion, and instantly feels a sensation of relief -Oh... woah! Thank you!- looks at the wound... there was nothing there, only a blood stain all over his ragged clothes, he has been fully healed

-Dinner's ready!- said the lady

Ranboo walks to the table, there was three bowls filled of stew, it smelled delicous, and it tasted better

-Yum! This tastes delicious!-

-So... where are you from?- asked Edward

-I don't... I don't know, the last thing I remember is that I woke up in a cart with many prisioners, and among them there was a Lord-

-A Lord?- asked the woman -Won't be that Lord Harald?-

-Yeah! That one!- he kept talking -He was really nice with me, he tried to convince the guards that I was not one of his men, but those guards tried to execute me anyways...-

-Those brute bastards- said Edward outraged -In order to punish Lord Harald they are capable to kill and torture inocent people right in front of him...-

-Did Lord Harald manage to escape?- asked the lady worried -He's our only hope to end the King's tyrany-

-I think he managed to escape, I'm not sure- said Ranboo -We got split by the chaos of the infernal attack-

The lady gasped -Dear lord... not again-

-I am sure Harald escaped- said Edward -If the Men of the King ever got him, they would make sure everyone on the kingdom knows it-

-That's true...-

Ranboo finished his meal and said -Well... I don't know anything about what's happening in the world, I don't know how hard did those guards hit me on the head...-

-Must be really hard, I heard that Imps are kinda hard to knock out, even with maces!- said Edward -You see, your cranium is quite thick, in order to hold well the horns and that, you are able to take several hits before you feel any pain-

-That's true, most imps don't need helmets- said the woman, and then sighed -Our kingdom is in so much trouble...-

-What trouble?- asked Ranboo -Besides the Civil War and... the inminent infernal invasion I just saw...-

-Well, the Civil War is just one of many things- answered Edward -There's many chaos and dispair here-

-As a start, there's a plague on the north- said the woman -An evil plague that turns people into cannibals, terrible savages that always looks for flesh, untill now, no one could find the origin of this plague, let alone a cure-

-Then the Golden Cult- said Edward -A cult of evil rogue priests that were expelled from the Golden Temple for their radical practices, they're gathering fanatic followers from everywhere, and they hunt down anyone who doesn't follow their beliefs, or anyone who they consider "impure", like the imps-

-And also the Black Wave from the West, an evil necromancer that gathers corpses from all over Valdur Ristlow, exploiting the Civil War casualties, no matter the side-

-Erm... Valdur... what??- asked Ranboo

-The... kingdom where we are- said the woman -What did those guys do to you? You seem lost like a priest in Inferis-

-Oh! Right! Yeah... Valdur Ristlow, the land, pfff, sure! I just was... kinda confused haha...- he was very ashamed for not knowing anything about the entire world where he was, like if he doesn't belong there at all

-Well, It's getting late, probably you feel tired... you can sleep on our son's bedroom- said the lady

-Oh, you have a son? Where is he?-

Edward and his wife's face changed, they both looked sad, anguished

-Oh... so sorry! Er... nevermind-

-No! It's okay- said Edward -It's just...-

-We didn't have any news from him for a long time- continued the lady -One day the Men of the King came by our town, and started to take every young man, by the King Ulric's decree, every young man from the small towns would be taken and conscripted into the King's military service...-

-Oh, sorry about that-

-It's okay- said Edward -Every night we pray to our god Aurum, for the safe return of our boy William, you seem to have his age, you know?-

Ranboo was surprised -Oh! Really?-

Edward laughed -Yeah, I mean... I don't know how are the "demon ages", but you look almost as young as him, he is 20-

-You can go sleep there, and in the morning you can borrow some of his clothes-

-Oh... thank you! You are being really nice with me...-

-Bah! You saved my life!- said Edward -This is the least we could do-

After washing the dishes, everyone went to their beds, Ranboo's one was really comfy

So he laid on there, looking at the room, his head was still full of questions and doubts

"Who am I?" Was the biggest question of all

"Why do I know nothing about the world?"

He fell asleep, thinking about that weird vision...

Why did that feel so familiar? Lots of buttons with shiny symbols... and colorfull lights all around him

A howling from the horizon came from the woods, that felt unnatural

...

Ranboo woke up, the sun was shinning through the window, he stretched his arms and stood up

Since the couple offered their son's clothes, he went to the wardrobe and saw all the clothes there

-Hmm... are there any fashion standards or something?- he got some nice trader robes, and a couple of studded bracers -I guess this will do-

He looked for any boots and took the nicest ones -They're perfect for my... strange legs-

He went to the main room, Edward and his wife looked at him

-Hah! You look fine!- said Edward -I don't know where will you go later... but I guess you'll be fine-

-Guess?- asked Ranboo -I'm gonna be honest, I don't know where to go...-

-Oh...- the woman started to think -I guess if you wanna find any information about you... you could go find more imps, the "Ugly Hood" is where most of them live in this kingdom-

Edward was worried -Oh no! Not the "Ugly Hood"! That's a terrible place!-

-What's the "Ugly Hood"?-

Edward sighed -It's basically a ghetto, most of the imps in this kingdom where confined there, forced to live in that awfull place by King Ulric, he name that place as a mockery, calling them "Ugly people", forcing them to live in poor conditions, all crowded together, the King calls it "The mud in the City of Gold"-

Ranboo was outraged -What a bastard!-

-Yeah, since imps are basically descendants of refugee demons who fled the cruelty of Kahn Azurg during the Inferis Expansion, King Ulric treats them like scum-

-The...? Okay!-

-Oh!- the women remembered something -Since you're so lost, you might need this- and hands him a map

-This is the map of Valdur Ristlow, our whole kingdom-

Edward started to point severall places on the map -See here in the centre? In the middle of the huge lake? That's the city of Auris Magna, the capital of the kingdom, that's where the "Ugly Hood" is, you might get some help there, but I warn you, it's a nasty place, and since you're an imp, it might be a bit difficult for you to leave, so be carefull-

Then the woman pointed another city -And there's Scalonia, where the Arena of Argentum is, is the nearest big city to this town-

-Before Ulric's kingdom, it was common among the younglings of these town to have fantasies of fighting in that arena one day- Edward was feeling nostalgic -Those were the days-

-And that's Faunrom, the city of the Woods, where the Hunter's guild is- pointed the woman -They are nice people, despite there are some strange rumors about them-

-Oh! The south is lovelly! Brighthelm! With the Bright Bay!- said Edward -That's where Lord Harald lives, and also is the head of the Rebellion, every race there is more than welcome, sadly, most of the paths towards the south are closed and highly guarded by the Men of the King-

Ranboo looked at the map -I guess that anyone who tries to go into Harald's lands...-

-Without any kind of safe passage aproved by the king, anyone who tries to go is jailed under the charge of treason-

-Hmmm I guess I gotta go to the Auris... Magna... I guess...? Maybe I'll find some clues there-

Edward looked at Ranboo -But be prepared for any danger in your path, I'll make you some potions- and started to craft severall healing potions

-Oh, thank you guys, you have been really helpfull- Ranboo walked through the door, to the path, and looked back at the couple

Edward hands him a bag with some potions -Remember, beware, and be safe-

-Thank you guys, and... good luck-

-Goodspeed Ranboo, may the golden blessing of Aurum protects you!-

-And... you too-

Ranboo walked through the town

"Man! How fucked up are things on these lands? And why I don't know anything of it???"

He was thinking about what to do next, and had the feeling that if tries to go directly to the capital, he won't make it alive

"What should I do now?"

Right before the bridge, there was a blacksmith "Maybe with the 500 gold I can buy a decent sword..."

He aproached to the forge -Uh... hello?- knocked on the wooden fence

-Oh! By the fangs of Sharbug! I cannot find it!!!-

-Holy shit!- Ranboo was scared by the subit appearance of a huge angry orc on blacksmith robes, who seemed really angry

-Sorry sir! But I won't be able to attend you right now... My hammer is missing!- said the orc who was hardly breathing, clearly in anger -And I bet it where those damn bandits from the hill!- and pointed at the hill at the other side of the river, right at the end of the bridge

Ranboo got a bit further from the angry big orc -Oh...kay... erm... why don't you calm down? I bet you can buy another hammer...-

-ARE YOU JOKING???!!!- the orc yelled out in anger

-Pleasedonthurtmeihave500goldtakethem!-

-That hammer belonged to my father! And my grandfather! It's been on my family for 8 generations! I cannot just "replace it"!-

-So... if you know where is it, then why...?-

-I cannot just leave my forge! What happens if more thieves comes and steal everything? Or what if my forge turns off? That would be a dishonor!!-

-Okay... geez... I d...don't need you to forge me anything, I just want a nice sword, that's it, you can give me any sword you already forged-

The orc looked at Ranboo and smiled at him -Oh, you want a sword? Then you can do something- the orc grabbed a sword from the almost empty armory -I can give you this regular iron sword for a hundred coins, or... you can use it to go to fight those bandits from the hill, bring me back my hammer, and as a reward I can forge you a fine steel sword for free-

-You mean... go to fight a bunch of bandits for a free sword?- Ranboo grabbed the sword, he doubted for a moment, then saw the orc's empty armory, the guy needed help -Okay! I'll go-

-Thank you! You are a brave imp!- smiled the orc

Ranboo walked over the bridge -Oh I'm definitelly gonna die for a stupid old hammer- and so started to walk up the road to the hill -Man... where are the bandits? I see no one over here... HOLY FUCK!-

Suddenly an arrow crossed the air, right in front of his eyes, he looked up, and saw a couple of bandits shooting at him from behind some rocks above

-Kill him! I wanna see what kind of loot he has!- yelled one of them

-Come on! Start running so I can backstab ya!-

Ranboo took his iron sword, and the two bandits jumped off, and landed in front of him

-Hehe... a little scared goat man wants to be a hero-

He was kinda scared, this was far different from fighting giant spiders, and he even got hurt on that fight, tried to take some courage and intimidate them -Erhm... Shut up! Or I... I'll kill you!-

Both bandits laughed really loud

-Yo! I heard that Imps can take many hits on the head before being knocked out...- and pulls out an axe -I'm very curious about how many hits it will take-

The other bandit takes his mace and says -Oh boy! I'm gonna have so much fun finding it out!-

-Oh shit...- Ranboo was shaking, but decided to fight -Why am I doing this?-

-DIE SCUM!!- the bandit with the axe attacked, but Ranboo barely blocked it, and then kicked him down there, in the crotch pushing him far -Oh... bollocks!-

-Go back to hell!!!- the other bandit attacked really fast and landed a strong hit on Ranboo's head with the mace... between the horns

-What? .... I barelly felt that! Haha!- he was laughing, and then got serious -Now you're in trouble!- and then swinged his sword so fast, that left a deep cut in the bandit's chest

-AAAAGH! DAMNIT!-

-DIE!!- the bandit with a mace tried to smash Ranboo on the face, but the imp blocked the attack, and pushed him back

-No! You die!- and directly stabbed the bandit on the neck, getting both covered in blood

-BROTHER! NOOOO!- shouted the other bandit -YOU BASTARD!!!- and attacked him fully deranged

Ranboo dodged the attack and shouted -Die you rat!- then swinged the sword so fast, catching the bandit by surprise, beheading him -HOLY SHIT!!!- he covered his mouth in surprise, watching the head rolling down the road, falling to the river

-I... I didn't mean to do that- he said with a small voice

Ranboo couldn't believe that he just killed two people, he was shaking, out of stress, or excitement, he wasn't sure

-Holy... I can't believe I just did that...- he was taking a breath -Holy... Is this how adrenaline feels?-

There was a lot of excitement, once the fear of death has vanished away, he felt the excitement for the fight...

-Yeah! I'm ready to fight more bandits!- he sheated his sword and kept walking up the hill, on alert, waiting for more bandits to attack...

And so he found a cave at the end of the road

-I guess this is where the bandits live... I bet they have the hammer there-

Ranboo walked in, with sword in hand, slowly, in order to not alert the bandits for his intrusion, and so he saw an iron shield, next to a bag full of potatos -This will come in handy-

The cave was quite dark, barelly lightened by a few torches and lamps. As he went deeper into the cave, he started to hear severall voices

-I told those maggots to bring wine! Not mead! I am sick of mead! Damn those bees and their honey!-

-Hah! Pickpocketing, now that's a fine art, but on a second thought... no violence, no hand chopping... where's the fun?-

Ranboo kept going really sneaky, doing his best to not attract any attention, in order to avoid any useless fight

-Yo there!- a huge bandit ran towards him, but Ranboo was ready, and blocked the attack with the shield

-Get lost!- he bashed the bandit on his face with the shield, making him to lose his balance -Do you want some of this?- the imp attacked and stabbed the bandit on the chest

-UUUUGHHH...- the bandit died, but the fight attracted way too much atention

-We got an intruder!-

-Kill him!-

-He got our brother! Kill him!-

-Oh shit!- now Ranboo had to fight against way too many bandits at the same time

He blocked the first attack with the sword, the second with the shield, an archer from the bottom shot an arrow, but Ranboo dodged the arrow, wich it landed on another bandit

-Ouch! Watch where you aim that thing!- yelled the bandit

Another bandit tried to attack with a huge claymore, but Ranboo head butted him in the face, wich knocked him out

-Who else wants a piece of this?!- yelled

A bandit slashed him on the back -AAAH! DAMN IT!- Ranboo turned around and cutted his head with a single swing, he was starting to get some wounds, but only superficial, nothing serious

So he kept fighting, the more he kept fighting, the better he felt, more experimented, more skilled...

-What is happening here?!- the boss bandit came out, it was an intimidating huge man, wearing a fine light leather armor, he walked out of his room and saw the last few of his men falling dead to the ground, while Ranboo was trying to take a breath after the hard fight, barelly wounded, with some bruises and cuts, so he drank a healing potion

-So you little demon scumbag thought you could be a hero?- the boss took out his steel battle axe -Once I'm done with you... I'll have your head on a pike as a trophy!!-

Ranboo once again took his sword, and with a battle scream, he ran towards the boss, who blocked his attack with the axe and pushed him away

The imp rolled back and stood up fast "Dang it! This man is strong! I guess a front attack won't be enough"

The boss attacked Ranboo at full force, but he blocked with the shield, and kicked right to the stomach

-AH! Son of a...!-

Ranboo attacked again, but the boss blocked with his big axe, so he backed up a bit

The boss was really good at blocking, he had to think about something, and fast

So he looked at his shield and thought "I hope this works"

-You want a piece of this?- shouted at the boss

-I'm gonna kill you!- shouted the bandit, and raised his axe

Ranboo tossed the shield at his face, but the boss blocked the shield with his axe -Nice tr...AAAGH!!- the boss headed down, looking at the imp stabbing him on the chest, right on the small gap of the chest piece of his armor -You... demon filth...- stumbled, backing up a bit...

Untill he fell down dead

Ranboo looked around, without believing what he just did...

He just killed an entire band of dangerous bandits!

-I... I just did all this?- he felt so excited, so...

Satisfied, the sensation of huge accomplishment was overwhelming, he was feelling stronger, and somehow he learned new fencing moves and skills on battle, he had a sensation of health improvement

Then... again...

-Nnghh... AAAGHHHH!- he knelt down, the headache was terrible, everything was blurry around him, and again the visions...

This time he was on a stage, with lights from above, lighting him, he couldn't see the crowd clearly...

But everyone seemed to know him... and admire him, they were screaming his name on chorus

"Ranboo! Ranboo! Ranboo!"

-Ah!- he stood up -What the hell was that??-

He looked around, confused, what was that place? Who were those people? Why did they admire him?

He decided to look around and started to loot each one of the corpses

-Hmm... maybe the orc might wanna buy these weapons- and grabbed all the loot he could use or sell, weapons, potions, gold, some alcoholic beverages, and weird ingredients -Now... where's that hammer?- he kept walking through the cave, untill he found the boss's place, there was a bed, and a big chest next to it

Ranboo opened the chest, and found a big pouch of five hundred gold -Woah! Now that's nice!-

Then an enchanted helmet -I cannot use helmets... but I can sell this- and a gold necklace with a big zaphire...

And the hammer, a huge hammer with some orc symbols carved on it

-I guess this is the hammer... danm! This is huge!-

So he kept wandering through the cave and found a couple of books "I'll read them later" and some invisibility potions

Then he looked at the armor of the bandit boss -It looks nice, it would be a shame to waste it...-

So he took the armor and put it on -Woah! I look pretty badass!- and he got out of the cave, still amazed for what he achieved...

And also weirded out for the vision

"What the hell was that? Why everyone were cheering on me? Yelling my name?"

He walked down back to Endercreek, went to the blacksmith and knocked the door

-Hey! Mr... Mr blacksmith? Hello?-

The huge orc walked out, impresed by the sight of the Imp, holding the hammer on his hands

-Yes! That's my hammer!- said the blacksmith -I was afraid of sending you on a suicidal mision... but definitelly you are an imp hard to kill hehe-

-I also got severall weapons, I killed all the bandits so... I guess you do better with their weapons...-

-You killed them all?- the orc was amazed -You definitelly have tallent for the fight, I'll give you one thousand for all the loot-

-Deal!- said Ranboo, giving the loot and taking the gold

-Now... your reward... I bet you want a fine steel sword... in your case a saber would do-

-A saber?- asked Ranboo

-A curved light sword, harder than a diamond stone, and light as a feather- the orc grabbed his hammer and started to forge, hitting with his hammer on the anvil

Ranboo was amazed by the sparks flying out with each hit, the huge orc was working hard, putting effort of forging the best sword ever...

-And here it is!-

-Oh! That... was fast- Ranboo grabbed the saber, and unsheated it -Woah! It is really light as a feather!-

-Hah! And... where did you get that armor?-

-Oh! This thing? I got it after I killed the boss bandit, it looks really sick-

The blacksmith laughed -It looks cool, but with that gap in the chest you can get easily killed!-

-Yeah, I know, that's how I killed him!-

The orc took a closer look -I can upgrade it and add a steel chest plate that covers the gap... and some leather shoulder pads, but that won't be free, 200 golds for it-

-Yeah, I think it would be better if you do it, thank you- and gave him the gold

The blacksmith started to work again, taking Ranboo's armor and adding a steel chestplate, and some nice leather paudrons -With this... you will be even harder to kill-

Ranboo put on the armor -Now I look even cooler!-

-Indeed! And let me tell you some advice... if you feel up to test your habilities and learn even more about fighting... you could try your luck in the Arena of Argentum, in the city of Scalonia-

-I heard about that city... I might go there and take a look-

-If you go there... good luck! It is hard to be accepted into the Arena, specially if you are an imp, races like yours or mine, are not very accepted among the higest people, specially if you are an unknown foreigner-

-Really? Everyone in this town has been nice with me...-

The orc laughed -People on small towns like Endercreek or Lostolf are always nice, but the problem is in the big cities like Scalonia, or Auris Magna, that's where there are some racist, and hatefull people, so be carefull, most of them would just look at you with some disdain, but there could be some drunk idiots who might wanna punch you in the face just for being an imp out of the Ugly Hood-

-Thanks for the warning sir-

-Oh, call me Rogarz- said the orc, extending his hand

Ranboo shaked hands with the orc -My name is Ranboo-

-Ranboo, eh? Curious name for an imp- Rogarz smiled

-Well, I gotta go, I guess I'll try some luck in Scalonia-

-Then farewell, noble imp! May Sharbug's strenght be with you!-

-And so with you... I guess-

Ranboo walked away, crossing the bridge, but this time taking the other path, right to Scalonia, following the river.

- So... every time I win a fight or a battle, I learn something... and when I learn something, a new vision invades me... If I get enough visions, maybe I'll be able to gather the pieces with the help of those imps at the Ugly Hood... so I'll be better go to some places before there-

From the road, it was posible to see the city far away

-Okay... let's see what it may be...-

NEXT:

[nickgerlich]

I'm The Taxman

The Apple Tax has proven to be one of the most lucrative propositions ever for Apple, specifically when it applies to in-app purchases made from our phones. While the EU is starting to attack them, they still have complete freedom in the US to levy this tax with ruthless cunning.

Here’s how it works: Every time you buy something on your iPhone, whether it is a game, an upgrade to a premium service, whatever, 30% of that price goes to Apple for the privilege granted to the app provider to exist in the Apple eco-system.

And I was today years old when I learned that when a business or even an individual opts to boost a post on Facebook or Instagram such that it becomes sponsored content, that too has the Apple Tax applied. Parent company Meta thus loses 30% of those sales (even though the company isn’t exactly hurting these days).

But now comes news that Meta is going to offload that burden to the buyers, rather than absorb it. In other words, if I or anyone else wants to boost a post or account, if the price is $100, then I will be charged $130 to cover the part going to Apple. Apple is assessing the fee at the cash till.

Meta, in its quest to appear less bad, has encouraged everyone to simply pay for boosting on a desktop computer instead of by phone, thereby dodging Apple. That will work. In fact, it would be pretty easy to do this in Facebook. On Instagram, though, I know there are a lot of users who do not even know you can access your account on a computer, because the platform was designed originally to be mobile-only.

So now we’re left trying to figure out who the bad company really is. Is it Meta for making its customers pay the fee? Or is it Apple for maintaining this fee structure in the first place?

I know. It’s kind of like asking if Ticketmaster is evil for handling concert ticket sales, and then passing along outrageous service fees for the privilege. We all know how a $100 ticket can wind up being more than $150 after all is said and done. If you want to see a super headliner like The Eagles, prepare to drop some major money, especially if you are taking a date.

My hunch is that, even with Meta’s encouragement to boost your posts via a computer, this is going to hurt them in the long run, and then Apple subsequently. This news makes us all aware of what is going on, because before all this, we just didn’t know. It’s not just paying $6 a month for personal MapMyRun MVP premium features, and maybe knowing that Apple takes a slice. Now we all know that those social media boosts have been a revenue stream not just for Meta, but also Apple.

Maybe we’ll all just stop the madness.

Although I doubt everyone will quit, I think the effective 30% increase in costs for the advertiser will cause many to reconsider. Small businesses and individuals, such as artists and musicians, will be affected most. Larger companies may just consider it the price of doing marketing.

Apple has had many long-running battles with some of its biggest app developers over the tax. It hindered Spotify’s ability to fully launch its audible books initiative, because it meant that Apple would get a huge chunk of every audio book a user purchased. Apparently Meta has just been sucking it up, even though it too has engaged in battle.

Now that the EU is clamping down on Apple, from power cords to revenue sharing, I suspect the time will come soon here in the States when our own regulators put their foot down as well. I realize that the business culture is very different here in the US than in Europe, and that we are far more laissez faire, it will depend on who is in office in Washington. Recall that President Biden is already trying to put his foot down on hidden charges we consumers endure, like overdraft and late payment fees. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to follow the EU’s lead on Apple as well.

But is Apple being evil? After all, it is their platform. It’s just that they have a tight monopoly when it comes to apps. Yes, their testing and scrutiny give us a high degree of consumer safety, but they are a toll booth at the same time. And the toll to get across the bridge is just as steep as the bridge itself to get in the App Store.

In the end, our court system will have to resolve this one. But for now, those entities and individuals least able to spend large sums on marketing are going to feel the brunt of Meta’s latest action.

Dr “One For You, Nineteen For Me” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[prqltothesql]

Summer Movie Gauntlet

Me and my best friend and platonic life partner Drew, he's a big movie buff and so we always go see movies together. We splurged and got the Cinemark Movie Club for the summer because there was a new movie we wanted to see every two weeks. And we just wrapped up what I believe is our last hurrah yesterday, so I wanted to go through them.

FAST X

This was awesome, although I didn't like Jason Momoa's performance, way too over the top and cartoonish. The F&F series is over-the-top and requires you to suspend your disbelief, but this was too much. Regardless, I had a blast, the movie was super fun, the cast was great. We had seen F9 in theaters and marathoned all the F&F movies before that after I'd literally only seen 1 and 2. So seeing this was very cool.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

I think we were both prepared for this to be great, not as great as it actually was. The first 20 minutes of the movie with Gwen was movie of the year, and then the title card played and it only got better. Hilarious, heart-wrenching, mind-bending, great twist, great cliffhanger, animation was outrageous, score was incredible. One of the top films of the year by far.

The Flash

I really enjoyed this movie. I had a giant smile on my face the entire time and just absolutely loved it. I got past the CGI and some of the goofy comedy like Flash putting babies in the microwave. This is the DCEU's portrayal of the Flash, which probably is different than the upcoming DCU and different than the Arrowverse. Michael Keaton was alright, Sasha Calle was amazing as Supergirl. I had a blast watching it, despite it doing awful at the box office.

Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part One

Another one that I'd never seen, he made me watch all the MI movies (I'd never seen any of them), and we did Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation and Fallout in one sitting and each one was better than the one before it. This one was fabulous and I keep thinking about it, even now 2 weeks later. Amazing action, great cast, fun plot, great stunts, great cinematography, and a nice bookend to this chapter setting up the next movie. It's in a bad spot release date wise, more people should be talking about it because it was fantastic.

Oppenheimer

I'm 24 hours removed and I'm still thinking about it. What Christopher Nolan was able to do with no action scenes, practical special effects. Doing a biopic like it was Tenet or Inception and it totally worked. Ensemble cast, great actor after great actor, all of them seemed to be in competition with each other to try and steal the movie. Great twists and turns again for a movie with no action. Trinity test scene was awesome. Last third of the movie was incredibly gripping despite all of the exciting stuff being over.

Barbie

I wanna see this one again cause I don't feel like I fully appreciated it, although I had an absolute blast. Absolutely a fever dream of a movie, everyone committed 1000% to the bit. Super fun, I laughed my ass off at so many scenes. And someone else said it best, this movie really tackles what it means to be a female in the world today, something I cannot appreciate or experience. And it does it in a way that doesn't put down men, which would have muddied the message. And at the same time, it has a message for men too that isn't derogatory. And at the same time as all of that, it has great commentary on the human condition and what it means to be alive. Totally not the movie anyone expected, but an amazing spectacle and one that will stand the test of time.

Sadly, our movie adventures are over until the double whammy of Dune Part Two and The Marvels in November, although if this strike continues, both have been talked about being pushed back. Regardless, this was a string of 9 weeks and 6 movies that were quite incredible and I'm grateful to have done this and done it with my best friend.

[siderealcity]

Narrative Sense

Okay, this is eventually going to become a post about Dragonsong, and maybe Stormblood, but to start with, it's going to be a discussion of the peculiar form of non-logical sense that stories have. You could call this "emotional sense," or "vibes," maybe, but I'm going to call this "narrative sense," because it's not 100% emotion-driven, and it's not logical, but it's the way things make sense because they're in a story.

In its simplest form, narrative sense is the way things work in a fairy tale. Cinderella must leave the party by midnight because the enchantment will end then. Does that make logical sense? No. Do we need to get a full explanation of the rules of fairy magic to accept that limitation? No. We accept that magic will have abrupt, maybe harsh limitations, just like we accept that if you look the monster in the eyes it will get you, or if you hold your breath passing a graveyard, you'll be safe from ghosts. We believe, on some fundamental, instinctive level, that we are bargaining with the universe on terms that we don't fully grasp, and we're prepared to accept that you can pay for a miracle with seven years of silence (with occasional screaming into a hole in the ground not counted against you.)

We expect stories to obey the rules of this negotiation far more strictly than we do reality. Which is not to say that characters can't lose or fail, but rather, that we expect that if they are going to lose or fail it's because they broke the terms of the agreement. This is pretty much the entire way the horror genre is structured. Characters are tested on subjects they didn't know they ever needed to study, and when they get things wrong, they die. Is that fair? No. But it feels understandable. As opposed to reality, where terrible things happen to people for no reason.

Likewise, if they're going to win, they have to earn it. They must have paid the price for happiness before it could be delivered. Or someone must have paid it, at least.

And now we get to Dragonsong. Spoilers ahead.

Okay, so I mentioned before when talking about Ysayle, that Estinien is the most Obviously Doomed Character in the history of characters. And he might as well be wearing a Tragic Hero t-shirt over his drachen mail. For all of Heavensward, he is the voice of Ishgard's side in the Dragonsong War. He's the dragon-killer who wants revenge on Nidhogg, he's the embodiment of a thousand years of people who've suffered from Nidhogg's wrath. The people who don't know anything about Ratatoskr and never did. The other innocent victims of the war.

As a character, he is the outrage of a people who have been wronged. It aligns him perfectly with Nidhogg, and that's why they make such a nice, neat pair. The mortal expression of grief and rage, and the immortal one. Of course they're destined to destroy one another. In most stories, that's how they find redemption. Outrage doesn't get to be put away when it's finished. In Narrative Sense, the revenge-seeker gets what they want and dies because that's how they pay for their victory. And who would they be afterward, if they survived anyway? Vengeance was their character. And that character's purpose ended. They have nowhere to go and no one to be once their role in the story is done.

If you did the Dragoon job quests before starting Heavensward, then you know that the eye is eventually going to overwhelm him. He starts out the cutscene asking you to fight Vishap with, "Don't worry, I'm not here to fight you again." You knew it was coming sooner or later.

So it's entirely unsurprising that he's transformed at Azys Lla. Again, it makes perfect narrative sense. You've already destroyed Nidhogg, the draconian side of the anger fueling the war. You've destroyed Thordan, and through him the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, the force that pitted Nidhogg against the people in the first place, and profited off the suffering of both sides. Of course you still have to fight the anger of the common folk. Because it doesn't matter that Nidhogg's outrage was initially justified, so was theirs. Their desire for revenge has to find an end, too.

The expectation set up from the moment of the transformation, and reinforced constantly is that Estinien will die with Nidhogg. That's just how it makes sense. And it ties into the larger theme of the game's story: Where do we get salvation from? What are we prepared to sacrifice for it? For whom do you fight? And what do you believe in? Estinien is meant to be the sacrifice that ends the thousand-year-long war. He is the collective anger of the innocent people of Ishgard, and he's now fused with the immortal, undying anger of the dragons over Ratatoskr's murder. There is no other way to end the song than his death.

Isn't there?

It's the revelation that the Scions still want to save Estinien that convinces Hraesvelgr to finally act. Because he knows how these stories end. How they always end. Midgardsormr traded his life for his childrens' future. Shiva gave her life so their souls could be together. Ysayle gave her life to save her friends. Victory always comes with a cost. So why even pursue it? What makes the victory worth the price you have to pay for it? It's a taste of the nihilism we'll get with Fandaniel and Hermes later. If suffering is the inevitable outcome of everything you do, why try for anything better?

But in the narrative sense, the price for victory has already been paid.

Not by Estinien, but by The Warrior of Light. Our losses along the way have paid the narrative cost for his rescue. Haurchefant, and Ysayle, and Minfilia have all been taken from us, not through any fault of our own, not by choice, even though we have followed the rules of the narrative to the letter, and now the narrative owes us something. And if we didn't get that feeling already, the ghosts of Haurchefant and Ysayle, the characters representing love and redemption, appear and literally give us the strength to pry the eyes from Estinien's armor in the end, freeing him both literally and figuratively from being the avatar of vengeance.

This is why he finally takes his helmet off only after everything is done. When he's no longer the Azure Dragoon, or the representation of righteous anger. When his part in the story is over. He couldn't do it before, but now that his character, the character of vengeance has died, he can be reborn as just Estinien.

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (Chapter 45)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff, some smut, and a whole lotta angst. Chapters 1-44 can be found on my Masterlist in my bio. Brendon x reader. 

Warnings: So...we’ve (@beautiful-tragic-fallout) created a points system for smut. 0.25 for an attempted handjob 0.25 for fingering 0.5 for offering to blow him 0.5 for going down on her 0.75-1.0 for sex, vanilla 1.5-2.0 for sex, advanced positions 3.0 for bondage, spanking, other kinks, or public sex. This chapter has a score of 1 as far as smut is concerned, with some other references to sex, along with language, trauma, death, and general angst. 

It’s a 9 on the angst scale, though @glitter-gloom was prompted to ask, “then what’s your 10?!”

A special loving “fuck you” to @beautiful-tragic-fallout for the song suggestion, and another special loving “fuck you” to Brendon himself for singing said song and utterly destroying me. 

I did proofread this several times but usually got so upset that I was distracted. Any errors are my own. One day (when this is all done) I’m going to re-read and edit each chapter and repost them to AO3. 

Word count: 13.3k

Buckle up. 

-||-

You stare at him hungrily as the juices drip down his fingers. He moans and you whimper as the tip of his tongue traces each finger carefully and you whine when he meets your eyes. “This is porn,” you tell him, desperate. 

“No, it’s not,” he replies, dipping his hand down again before offering his fingers to you. “It’s an indulgence.” You suck at them greedily and he grunts when your tongue twists and pulls them deeper into “your hot, wet mouth,” Brendon manages, heavy eyes locked on yours. You free his fingers and grin, leaning in to kiss him softly. 

“You had a little bit smeared on your face,” you tell him with a smile, giggling when he looks offended. 

“I sure did and I was saving it for later when I was hungry!” You both laugh and he nuzzles your nose with his. “Does my pretty girl want another?” You tilt your head, considering. “Don’t be coy, Y/n. You’re my wife and I know you. You want another.” He waggles his eyebrows at you and you blush as you nod. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? But,” and he yawns, “I think this is the last one.”

“Baby, if it’s the last one,” you say. “You should have it. You know I love- but-“ He shakes his head, pressing closer. You protest a little, telling him you want him to have it, and he winks at you before he takes the opportunity to push the tip into your mouth and you moan, caving and parting your lips for him. 

Finishing and licking your lips, you shake your head, laughing, as he drops the stem from the last chocolate-covered strawberry back into the box resting on the couch in your new living room. “Good?” He asks, smiling softly at you. You nod and he leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You had a little bit smeared,” he teases. 

You latch your fingers around his neck and pull him back in for a longer kiss. “It was a trap,” you murmur against his lips. “Wanted to get you close so I could steal some kisses.”  

“You get all of my kisses forever,” he assures you. “Not stealing. Taking what is rightfully yours.” He runs his hands down your back and presses his thumbs into the base of your spine, making your toes curl. “You looked like you needed it,” he tells you, and you nod, wiggling a little. “Hips?” He asks and when you nod, he shifts his hands forward and rubs gentle circles over your hips. “Soon,” he tells you, and you rest your forehead against his. 

“Soon,” you agree, smiling. “It’s not so bad,” you say with resolve and he gives you a dubious look. “Okay, yeah, my back is killing me and sleep is nonexistent and I feel like I’m gonna tip over at any minute and I either need to pee or need to sleep because those are my only two modes, and I haven’t seen my feet in four months and my nipples are actually killing me and I would murder for a California roll right now with a glass of white wine but- “ you stop, take a deep breath, and smile at him. “But she’s worth it.” 

“Thank you,” Brendon says sincerely, kissing your forehead. You give him a confused look and he smiles. “Thank you for taking such good care of our baby.” He gives you a serious look now. “We need to discuss something important.” You raise an eyebrow, amused at the look on his face. “What do you want as a push present?”

You burst out laughing and hit him on the shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that,” you say through gasps of laughter. “I thought something was really wrong! Damn it, Brendon!” You’re still laughing, wiping the tears that formed from your eyes. “Besides,” you add. “You already picked it out. The other half of the halo to my engagement ring,” you remind him. “Remember? That plus my wedding band make a full halo.” 

“Mmmm,” Brendon purrs, “a full halo for my angel.” You stare at each other for a long moment before he chuckles. “Sorry, that was so cheesy. That was bad.” 

“I can’t have cheese either,” you whine, prompted by his apology, and he kisses your forehead, promising you all the sushi and pizza you can eat once everything is over. “I want stuffed crust,” you tell him. “Cheese and bacon. Both.” “You got it. An extra-large cheese pizza with bacon-and-cheese stuffed crust.” He grins and you nod decisively. “Anything else? California rolls, you want some Philly rolls, crazy rolls, firecrackers?” 

“All of that,” you moan, clinging to his shirt now. “All of that.” He promises and when you yawn, he asks if you want to go to bed. “Yes please,” you say, craving the comfort of the smooth sheets under your body and the relaxing feeling of his arms around you, even if you won’t get any sleep.

“Alright, hold tight. Lemme put this in the trash and set the alarm. I’ll be right back.” He stands and winks at you as he walks to the kitchen, now-empty strawberry box in his hand. You wait for him to return and when he does, he offers you both hands to help you up. “Bath or anything?”

“Just bed, I think,” you say with another yawn. He taps your ass lightly with two fingers and you giggle, turning to give him a playful look. “Can I help you?” You tease and he fakes a wounded look as you hit the second floor and push open your bedroom door. 

“Can’t I just touch you because I like you?” Brendon asks, grinning as soon as you start wiggling out of all of your clothes except for the maternity leggings. They’ve been so comfortable and you’ve fallen in love with them; this is the sixth pair Brendon has bought you since he found out how much you loved them. “And because I like what you’re doing?” He leans against the wall and nods approvingly, catching your eye and blowing you a kiss. “Pretty, baby,” he murmurs. You roll your eyes and he looks offended. “Uh, what was that?” 

“I am many things right now,” you say lightly as you scrape your hair back to keep it out of your face while you sleep. “But pretty isn’t one of them.” You blink back the tears that are forming and Brendon launches himself off the wall and towards you to take you in his arms.

“Love,” he whispers, cupping your face in both hands now. “You are consistently the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And maybe I’m biased because I love you and you’re having our baby, but I don’t think I am. You’re gorgeous, my love. I know you don’t feel well now and you’re tired and sore and -“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head a little and guiding you over to the full-length mirror. He stands behind you, hands wrapped protectively around you. “Look at your hair. Watching you walk is like watching a shampoo commercial. A high-end shampoo commercial.” You giggle and he leans forward to kiss your cheek. “Gorgeous. Your eyes are bright and shine so sweetly, and I fall in love with you more every time I see you. Darling, your skin is soft and clear; I never want to stop touching you. Oh, baby, you’re fucking glowing. You’re beautiful.” His hands move lower to cup your breasts and you meet his eyes in the mirror. He smiles as he thumbs over your nipples. “No complaints here. But you’ve always been perfect in this regard as far as I’m concerned.” He kisses your neck now and moves his hands lower to curve over the swell of your stomach. “You know what I see when I look at you and see all that you are?”

“God, she looks tired and could pop any day?” You venture, your voice cracking a little with fatigue. Brendon sighs and holds you a little tighter. 

“I think, ‘that gorgeous woman puts up with me and is giving me the best gift I could ever ask for. That woman is my wife and she’s carrying our child. That gorgeous woman likes me enough to have frequent enough sex with me to conceive a child!” He nudges you playfully. 

“It only takes one time,” you say, but he can see in your eyes that he’s getting through to you. You sigh. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m being irra-“

“Don’t say you were being irrational, my love,” Brendon says gently, turning you around and taking both of your hands in his. “I fully understand why you feel the way you do. Your body is going through major changes and I can’t even begin to imagine the physical stress -“ he cuts himself off. “I just mean, you’re not irrational. You’re not pulling these complaints from anywhere; you’re allowed to be stressed and upset and everything else. Just know that I’m looking at you from the outside and I think you’re absolutely gorgeous and I love you.”

“I love you,” you reply, leaning into his embrace. You’re both silent for a moment, his hands moving slowly, soothingly over your back. “Can we go to bed now?” Your voice is soft and Brendon nods, leading you over and sitting beside you while you snuggle into the giant body pillow that was delivered early last month before contorting his body around the outside of it so you can still feel his arms around you. “I might actually get some sleep tonight,” you murmur, and Brendon says to wake him up if you can’t fall asleep.  

“You know the drill,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “We’re in this together, in all ways, always.” -||- “Alright, here’s the deal,” you say, leaning against your whiteboard, both hands over your stomach as you eye your first block. “There are six days left of school. You have exams in two days. I am very pregnant.” You raise an eyebrow. “So you’re going to study quietly going through that study guide you picked up on the way into class and ask me questions are needed. I am going to sit at my desk and relax.”

They all nod and get to work as you silently thank god for their behavior - maybe half of them are actually working and the other half are on their phones, but you can’t force them to study. And, you tell yourself, more importantly, you can’t force them to care. And as long as they’re not disturbing the people around them, you’re content to let them do as they please. You answer the few questions aimed your way and tidy up your desk as best you can from a seated position. 

“Oh!” You’re taken aback by the sudden pain in your lower back and everyone’s eyes shoot to you. “I’m-“ you try to say that you’re fine as you wave your hand to dispel their worries, but the cramping sensation hits you hard and you wince, clutching at the desk instead. 

“Should we go get someone?” Anna asks nervously, and you shake your head. There’s a beat of silence. “Are you sure?” She’s tentative and you consider before giving in and nodding. “I’ll call an ambulance,” she decides and you shake your head emphatically. 

“No, just go get Bren - Mr. Urie,” you say, closing your eyes. “I don’t need - there’s no point in going to the hospital now. It’ll be hours,” you insist. “Just - someone go to the main office and someone go get Mr. Urie.” You sit back and close your eyes, counting silently to yourself. It’s a five-minute walk to his room if you’re taking your time; he’ll be rushing. You predict he’ll be beside you in less than three minutes. All you have to do is count to one hundred eighty. You can do that. 

You’re at one hundred thirty-two when your classroom door opens and you open your eyes. Relief floods your body when you see him and he hurtles towards you. He drops to his knees beside your chair and takes your hand. “Do we need to go?” He asks, his face calm despite his hurried movements. You shake your head and he gives you a look. “Maybe not to the hospital, but do you want to go home?” This hadn’t crossed your mind. You pause, then nod. “Okay, let me call up to the-“ but he’s cut off by one of the secretaries coming into the room. 

“You go,” she waves you both towards the door. “Christy is headed to the band room. You’re both good to go.” Wincing again, you stand and Brendon wraps an arm around your waist. “Good luck,” she says in a bright tone and you smile, but it probably comes across more like a grimace. -||-

“You’re still counting?” Brendon looks at you as you stretch out on the bed and watch him pack your overnight bag. The sun has set, you’ve eaten a few small snacks, and you’ve been timing your contractions for the past seven hours. You nod and he smiles softly at you. “Good. You’re doing so good.” He comes over to kiss you gently. “I love you, Y/n.” You return the kiss and squeeze his hand, inhaling sharply when another contraction hits. “You just tell me when it's time to go, okay? Brendon whispers, rubbing your hand. You nod, gritting your teeth and groaning, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed. “Honey-?”

“Just wanna walk a little,” you tell him, pressing both hands to your lower back. “Just wanna - oh fuck,” you gasp and double over, clawing at the bedspread. Brendon is at your side in an instant, helping you back towards the bed. “That was a bad one,” you manage, whining low in the back of your throat. “Oh- fuck - Brendon I think-“ you fall to your knees, groaning. “Water,” You stammer, and he grabs the cup on the bedside table. “No,” you shake your head, gesturing at your body. “Water...broke,” you repeat more emphatically, barely getting the words out through the pain. His eyes widen and he drops down beside you. 

“Time to go?” He asks, cupping your face in his hand. You nod and he helps you to your feet. “Do you want me to take you to the car and get it started then come back for the bags?” 

“Yes,” you nod, grimacing. “I feel gross.” He brushes his lips over your forehead. 

“You don’t look gross. You look like my gorgeous wife who needs to be in the car.” You agree and as you start walking toward the door, you stop. 

“Towel,” you tell him, meeting his eyes. He looks confused and then nods as understanding registers behind his eyes and he doubles back to grab a towel. The stairs are slow-going; you find yourself stopping and breathing hard through the pain. “Next time,” you whimper, “don’t let me go upstairs. Next time, we’re gonna wait it out downstairs.” 

“I like that you’re still referencing a next time,” Brendon chuckles, letting you clench his hand in yours. You groan and he stops laughing. “Sorry, my love. You just tell me what you need.”

“I need to be in the car,” you whine, and Brendon nods, turning to face you on the stairs - he’s been in front of you with a hand stretched back over his shoulder for you to hold. He squeezes your hand to get your attention and when you open your eyes, he offers to carry you. “That seems like a bad idea,” you tell him, and he shakes his head. 

“We’re already halfway down. I’ll just scoop you up and get you down the stairs,” he assures you. 

“And what about when we fall down the stairs?” You raise an eyebrow. “No. Keep moving, that one has passed. We can keep going.” Carefully, one step at a time, you make it to the first floor and you whine, clawing at him, bringing him close. “Now you can carry me to the car,” you tell him, and he nods, lifting you off of your feet and heading to the door. 

“Wait right here,” he says, and you pull him in for a kiss. “I’m gonna go grab the bag. You don’t move, okay?” You tell him you won’t move as you spread the towel down over the seat and settle yourself in the car carefully. Brendon is back sooner than expected, tosses the bag in the backseat, and flings himself into the driver’s seat. “Ready?” He looks at you and you nod, back arching in pain. 

“Just drive,” you tell him through gritted teeth. -||- “Alright,” the nurse, Cheryl, claps her hands. “All set. We’ll monitor your vitals with this,” she gestures towards the machine, “and you have this,” as she presses a call button into your hand, “in case you need anything. Dad,” she turns to Brendon now. “Your job is to monitor the contractions using this,” she points at another machine with two lines graphing across the screen, “and those,” she gestures at the belts she’s just put in place, “and do whatever she asks.” She smiles slightly but then drops the expression to show she’s not kidding. “She can get up and change position but if she wants to go for a walk, let us know because we’ll need to remove the belts. Sometimes women find it helpful to lean over the bed and have you massage their hips, pelvis, and lower back.” Brendon produces the massage rollers from the overnight bag and Cheryl smiles at him approvingly. She turns to you. “He’s good.” 

“Yeah,” you agree, closing your eyes. “He is.” You shift a little and Brendon takes your hand. You squeeze it and smile before the breath is knocked out of your body from the contraction. Cheryl takes the opportunity to demonstrate to Brendon the way the machine graphs the baby’s heart rate and the contraction strength as you clench his hand and groan wordlessly. “Shitshitshitshitshit - sorry,” you say quickly once it’s passed, and she waves her hand, telling you she’s heard worse. 

“And you will probably hear worse tonight,” Brendon says with a soft laugh. “Quite the mouth on this one.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head and you shoot him a playfully dirty look. Cheryl smiles at you both and leaves the room, leaving the door cracked an inch or two. “Alright, love,” Brendon says, sitting down in the chair and scooting closer. “What can I do?” You wiggle a little in place and frown, telling him the pillow feels weird and he’s on his feet, adjusting and shifting and pushing it down to provide more lower-back support. “Better?” You nod, visibly more comfortable. “Good. You just say the word and I’ll make whatever you need happen,” he assures you. “You’re doing so well.” You nod and close your eyes, biting your lip as another contraction hits. His eyes dart to the screen and his shoulders slump in relief when the heartbeat line is in the normal range. Because of the IUD and the risks involved, they’re monitoring constantly. You’re squeezing his hand, whimpering, and he stands to smooth his hand over your forehead. You press your head into his touch and he smiles. “Hang in there, love,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”

“Fuck,” you groan, eyes opening. “Hurts.” As it passes, you slump back down and look at him. “Distract me?” 

“Of course.” Brendon sits down beside you again, still holding your hand. “I’ve got books, I’ve got music, I’ve got cards, whatever you want. We can turn on the tv and see what’s on,” Brendon offers and you think, closing your eyes. “Book, I think.”

“My nerd,” he teases, grinning at you. “Lemme grab one. You want me to read to you?” You nod and hear him settle back in the chair and the satisfying crack of a book spine. “In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since…” 

“Gatsby?” You perk up. “I love this book.”

“I know, babydoll,” Brendon says with a smile. “You want to read on your own or-“ he pauses as you shake your head. “Okay, I’ll keep going. It’s okay if you fall asleep, Y/n,” he reassures you. 

“I don’t see that happening, but thank you,” you tell him, closing your eyes and focusing on your husband’s voice as he reads aloud to you. 

Brendon’s made it to chapter 3 and while you really want to listen, the ache in your back is becoming excruciating. He looks up and sees the pain all over your face. “Love, what can I do?” He’s on his feet, book abandoned in the chair. “Do you want the massager?”

“Please,” you groan, and he helps you to your feet. “Okay, yes,” you mutter as you lean over the bed and rest your hands flat on the mattress. Brendon asks if you want the regular or cold one and you think. “Let’s try the cold,” you decide finally. Brendon nods and you hear him unzip the mini soft-sided cooler packed with ice and massage-roller attachments. He snaps one into place and rolls it a few times in his hand before caressing your side and rolling the massager over your lower back. “Oh god, that’s so good,” you whimper, breathing hard through the contraction. “Yes back and forth like that oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck -“ 

“Pelvis?” He offers after a moment and you nod, letting him assist you back into bed. You kick the blankets down and he slides the cool device over your pelvis slowly. “Better?” He asks, and you nod again. 

“Better. Not good, but better.” You close your eyes. “Can you turn on the TV?” Brendon moves quickly and grabs the remote, pointing at the TV, before going back to his previous task of massaging. As it turns on, you furrow your brow. “Is this…?”

“The Mighty Ducks,” Brendon confirms, settling back in his chair. “I can change it?” But you tell him it’s fine and besides his adjusting of pillows and passing you water and massaging, you’re both still and focused on the movie. 

“I want to have this baby before the movie is over,” you tell him. He laughs and says he can be on board with that. “Where the fuck is that epidural?” The ferocity of the question startles both of you and Brendon offers to go grab the nurse but you shake your head. “Please don’t leave me, I’m sorry,” you groan, and he sits back down, moving the icy massager over your upper thighs soothingly. 

“Don’t apologize, honey. You’re doing so good. I’m not gonna go anywhere.” As if appearing at your request, Cheryl comes bustling in with a middle-aged man, who introduces himself as Dr. Wilson. “Are you the anesthesiologist?” Brendon asks, and Dr. Wilson nods. You swear in relief and Brendon smiles at you. “See, babydoll? Ask and ye shall receive.” 

Cheryl and Brendon help you sit up and lean forward so that Dr. Wilson can apply the numbing cream to your lower back. “You’re going to feel some pressure,” he tells you after about ten minutes when he’s sure you’re numb, and you nod, gripping Brendon’s hand. He adjusts so he can find the right place and you meet Brendon’s eyes. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your fingers softly. You smile. “Can you feel this? And does it hurt?” Dr. Wilson asks, and you tell him you can feel him pushing but it doesn’t hurt. “Good,” he says soothingly. “Take a deep breath in for me…” you inhale and you feel the pressure intensify for a moment. “Good. You should feel some relief in about twenty minutes or so. You’re going to feel a warm, numb sensation in your lower back and legs. Just keep breathing.” 

Time moves at a glacial pace for the next twenty minutes and Brendon holds both of your hands, his forehead against yours, whispering to you sweetly. “I think,” you mumble, “I think it’s kicking in,” you tell Brendon. “Yeah,” you add a few minutes later. “It’s good.”

“Good?” Brendon looks relieved and you nod. “Good,” he repeats, leaning in to kiss you gently. “Want you to be as comfortable as possible.” 

Cheryl grins a little but quickly adjusts her face. She knows what you know. There’s no comfortable - only less pain. -||-

“I swear to god,” you gasp, squeezing Brendon’s hand tightly. “I just want this all to be over, please!” He wraps one arm around your back to help prop you up and you whine, resting your head on his shoulder. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you’re pretty sure this is the fourth time The Mighty Ducks has played. Either that or you’ve actually lost it. “Surely I’m at ten centi-“ 

“You’re fully dilated,” Cheryl announces, smiling up at you. “About time to start pushing!” You look at Brendon with wild, panic-filled eyes and he squeezes your hand. 

“You’re gonna be great. I’m right here, babydoll. I’m right here with you. You yell and scream and curse as much as you want,” he tells you. You whimper and he must be able to read your mind because he presses his lips to yours briefly. “You’re absolutely strong enough. You’re wonderful and amazing and you’re about to give birth to our baby girl. I am right here with you and I love you,” Brendon says with confidence. 

“Okay,” you whisper, letting Brendon and Cheryl help you into a better position as your ob-gyn comes bustling into the room, snapping her gloves on. She looks up at you both with twinkling eyes.  

“Who’s ready to have a baby?” -||-

“One more, honey,” Brendon tells you, wiping your hair out of your eyes. “You’re doing so good; one more big push, okay?”

“Fuck you,” you spit, breathing hard and closing your eyes. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean-“

“It’s okay, Y/n,” he tells you with a smile. “It’s okay. Push once more, okay? You’re so strong. Doing so good. I love you so much, my sweet girl. Breathe, love.” You take a deep breath the way he’s coaching and he smiles. “Good, honey. Keep breathing. Ready?” He meets your eyes and you nod, teeth leaving deep divots in your lower lip. It feels like your entire body is ripping apart and on fire and you can’t help the scream that tears from you, but you feel his hand holding yours, and you know it’s almost done, she’s almost here. -||-

“I think,” Brendon murmurs, as he settles next to you in bed and Cheryl places your daughter, washed and swaddled, on your chest, “she is the most beautiful baby to ever be born.” You nod, eyes locked on her, memorizing every detail of her face. She’s got dark lashes resting on tiny cheeks, a perfect button nose, little rosebud mouth, and her minuscule fist is clenched around your pinky. “She is,” you agree, resting your head on his shoulder. He reaches out and traces her nose. 

“She has your nose,” he tells you, and you nod, running the index finger of the other hand over the dark hair gracing her head. 

“She has your hair,” you respond, nuzzling into his shoulder. He shifts a little and kisses your temple, both of you staring at her in awe. A long moment passes and he nudges you. 

“What are you thinking about for a name?” 

You don’t miss a beat. “Dr. Jim Wilson,” you say firmly. Brendon pauses. He turns a little to look you in the eye, asking if you’re serious. “Of course I’m serious,” you say, staring him down. “That epidural was the shit. We need to honor that man.”

“Okay,” Brendon shrugs. “I can live with that. Dr. Jim Wilson Urie.” He gives you a sly smile. “I think I know what middle name I want,” he tells you. You blink. “Just listen. It’s so good. Ready? ...Dr. Jim Wilson McKayleigh Keightlinne Urie.”  

You blink slowly and grin at him. “Okay, I hear how crazy I am. Dr. Jim Wilson is a terrible name for our daughter. Your point has been made.” He laughs and leans over to kiss you softly. “Mmmmm, I missed that,” you whisper, moaning happily when he tangles his hand in your hair and holds you close, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t be making out with you in front of our daughter. Not for at least another thirteen years when we’re trying to embarrass her in front of her friends. So let’s choose a name instead,” Brendon says with a chuckle, winking at you. 

“I’ve been thinking,” you say softly, meeting his eyes, still caressing her soft hair. “What do you think about Olivia Hayden?”

He stares at you. “That’s gorgeous, Y/n. Honestly. I love it.” You ask him if he’s sure, and he nods. “It’s gorgeous. It’s perfect, because she’s gorgeous, just like her mother.” You blush and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “And now that we’ve settled on that...Should I order that pizza? And those sushi rolls?”  

“Oh fuck yes.” -||-

“That was the best pizza I’ve ever had,” you groan, stretching your arms above your head. Gingerly you roll onto your side and wince before shifting back to lying on your back. Brendon’s arm is slung around your shoulders and he grins when you giggle as he plays with your hair. 

“Happy?” He asks, and you nod, gesturing between your daughter in her bassinet beside the two of you and the empty pizza box and sushi container on the other side table. 

“How could I not be?” You smile radiantly and yawn, snuggling down into his embrace. He laughs and thanks you for pointing at Olivia first and not the food. You roll your eyes. “Listen, Urie,” you say, poking him teasingly in the chest. “ I have my priorities in order.”

“Yeah?” He smirks at you. “And where do I, your charming husband, fall on said priority list?”

You pretend to think, giggling. “Before Pizza but after sushi,” you tease, and he gasps playfully, warning you that you are in for a spanking. You open your eyes wider, laughing harder. “You wouldn’t - not in front of the baby,” you say in mock-horror. 

“Mmmm, no,” Brendon agrees, kissing your cheek. “But when we get home, you’re gonna get what you’ve earned. She’s gotta sleep eventually.” -||-

“She’s gotta sleep eventually, right?” Brendon asks, fatigue evident in his eyes. You nod as you hold Olivia securely and bounce in place slightly, trying to soothe her. “Here, Y/n,” he says as he stands from the rocker. “Try rocking again.” You’d tried that first and when it didn’t work, you stood up to pace the room with her, Brendon slumped in the chair, exhausted. 

“I don’t think it’ll work,” you sigh, but you settle into the chair anyway. He stands behind the chair and starts rubbing your shoulders. “Oooh,” you sigh, rolling your head back. “That’s nice...Bren...don't stop but - this is supposed to be about Miss Olivia Hayden here, not me…”

“Mmmm,” Brendon murmurs, using his thumbs to press gently into the base of your neck, the way that he knows will make your toes curl. “But if my wife is relaxed, then my daughter will probably feel more relaxed.” You smile and tell him it feels too good to argue his point. “So don’t argue, my love,” he says, and you can hear your husband smile. “Just enjoy.” 

“Oh,” you moan quietly, “I am.” He chuckles and keeps working at your shoulders and neck as you rock, and before either of you realize it, Olivia is quiet and snuggled into your arms, sound asleep.  “I hope you know what you got yourself into,” you tease quietly, allowing him to help you to your feet. “If this works, you’ve committed to giving me shoulder rubs for a long time.” Brendon grins and says that’s hardly a trial for him. You thank him and he gives you an affectionate peck on the lips. Gently, you walk back to your bedroom to place her in the bassinet beside your bed.

She doesn’t wake; her small lips part and she lets out the tiniest sigh that makes you gasp out loud and turn to Brendon in wonder. “We have a baby,” you tell him, face shining. He smiles and kisses your lips softly, reminding you that you’ve had a baby for two weeks now. “Still,” you wave aside his point. “A baby. Our baby.” You trace an outline around her sleeping form with two fingers and stare at him with shining eyes. 

“Our baby,” Brendon agrees, pulling back the covers and helping you into bed. His arms twine around your waist and you relax against his touch. “How long again before we can work at having another?” You can feel him smile against your shoulder, obviously teasing, and you giggle, turning to face him. “Four more weeks?”

“Uh huh,” you confirm, pressing closer. “Four more weeks. But you know,” you say softly, letting a hand move down his chest. “That’s just for...sex-sex.” Brendon raises an eyebrow and you laugh, shoving him playfully. “Shut up,” you say. “You know what I mean. Anything...uh…in-“

“I can’t finger, lick, suck, or fuck you for four weeks,” Brendon says, resignation all over his face. You nod. “Damn, that’s the longest we’ve ever gone.”

“I can still blow you,” you offer, wrapping a hand around his stiffening cock inside his sweatpants. “I don’t mind.” Brendon shakes his head sweetly, telling you that he’s not gonna get off if you can’t. 

“We’re in this together,” he reminds you, kissing you again. “In all ways, always.” You smile and rest your head on his chest. “I love both of my girls,” he whispers. 

“Both of your girls love you,” you reply softly, letting your eyes flutter closed. You’re both exhausted and with Olivia sound asleep, you know better than to take the time for granted. 

When you wake up, the bed is empty and Olivia is missing from the bassinet. You stumble downstairs and find Brendon in the kitchen with your daughter nestled in the crook of his arm, a bottle in the other hand. “Who’s my gorgeous girl?” He coos at her, laughing delightedly when she blinks up at him almost knowingly. “My other gorgeous girl,” he says when he sees you leaning in the doorway. “Olivia darling, your mother is awake.” 

You hold out your arms for her and Brendon passes her off easily, snaking his now-free arm around your waist and pulling you closer for a soft kiss. “Good morning,” you murmur against his lips. “Thank you for letting me sleep.” He shrugs and says you needed it and he wanted to get breakfast started. Your face lights up and he hands you her bottle so he can return to the chocolate chip pancakes. 

“What does my wonderful wife have planned for myself and our darling daughter on this lovely Saturday?” Brendon inquires as he places a stack of pancakes in the center of the table. Olivia finishes her bottle and you praise her, lifting her to eye-level and she stares at you, intensely focused on your face. 

“After breakfast, I thought we’d do some tummy time,” you tell him, and Brendon smiles. “Miss Olivia here has made it up to a whole minute, hasn’t she? Hasn’t she? Who’s my big strong girl? And then some reading. Maybe some music if you’re up to it.” You’re rocking her idly and Brendon leans down to kiss the top of her head, saying that he’s always ready to sing for his daughter. 

“She’s perfect,” he tells you, and you nod, your heart near bursting when she grabs at your pinky finger. She stares at you with her large chocolate brown eyes that look exactly like her father’s and you realize once again how much you love this child. 

You settle on the couch on your back and place Olivia on your stomach, letting her practice lifting her head and praising her every time she does. A minute goes by and you lift her up carefully, shifting under her so she’s seated in your lap and reclining against you. Brendon brings you the basket with the collection of cloth and board books you’ve already amassed and you select the soft black and white one with crinkly pages. You angle the book so she can see the big animals and you read aloud to her as Brendon finishes cleaning up the pancakes and warms up at the piano. 

You’re still holding her but now you’re seated in the oversized armchair near the piano, watching her face move from alert to at peace to deep sleep as Brendon plays through the classic lullabies he’s been looking up in his downtime. “Is she asleep?” He asks softly, still moving his hands over the keys. You nod and he jerks his head towards the stairs. “We should take advantage of that then,” he suggests. “Put her in her bassinet and sleep for as long as we can.” You nod and, carefully, you stand and head for the stairs. She stays asleep for the next blissful forty-five minutes, during which you and Brendon doze beside her in your bed, stretched out over the comforter, tangled together. -||-

“You’re a whole month old today Miss Olivia Hayden!” You announce to your daughter as you scoop her from her bassinet. “Such a big girl!” You bounce her on your hip before wrinkling your nose. “Does the big girl need a new diaper?” She blinks back at you and reaches for your face solemnly. You laugh and rub your nose against hers. “Mommy is taking that as a yes,” you declare. 

“And Daddy,” Brendon says as he sweeps into the room and plucks her from your arms, “is taking care of the new diaper. Because Mommy,” and he winks at you, “hasn’t slept since last night and could use a break.” He whisks her into the nursery and you drop into bed, half-asleep before your head hits the pillow. You’re lingering in a state of mostly asleep but not resting, on the alert for when your daughter will need you, and Brendon comes back into the room with Olivia snug in his arms. He sits on the edge of the bed and you open your eyes sleepily. “We’re going to go to the park,” he tells you. “Walk around for a little bit, look at the ducks.” You start to get up, knowing how much Olivia loves looking at the ducks in the pond from her stroller, and he gives you a look. “You’re going to rest, m’dear. You need it. I love you so much but you’ve been running yourself ragged, so let me take our darling daughter here out for the afternoon. You catch up on sleep and take a nice bath when you wake up. I left out a bath bomb and Gatsby for you. We’ll be back later and have dinner. And yes,” he smiles at you, “I packed her bag and I have her afternoon bottle and new diapers and wipes and a change of clothes and everything. Don’t worry. Just rest.”

“You’re amazing,” you mumble, and he smiles, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Thank you so much.” You wave goodbye to Olivia, but she only has eyes for Brendon at this moment. You smile to yourself and roll over, clutching the pillow to your chest. 

It could be five minutes later or it could be five hours when you wake up. You blink and try to focus in the dim light of the setting sun. As though prompted, you hear the front door click open, the security alarm beep, and the reassuring sound of the positive chirp when Brendon keys in the code. His footsteps are light on the stairs and you yawn, smiling softly when he comes into the room. “You’re back,” you say, and he nods, winking at you, reminding you that he’s always going to come back. 

He’s holding a sound-asleep Olivia and after a few moments in the nursery, he comes back empty-handed and crawls into bed to join you. “Gina is gonna babysit for us tomorrow night,” he tells you, stroking your hair. “Gonna take you out on a real date.” He sees the look on your face and laughs. “Or maybe we’ll just snuggle up on the couch worry-free for a few hours.” 

“No, a date does sound good,” you reassure him. “I just need to shower and put some effort into,” and you gesture at your body half-heartedly, “this.”

“Hey,” Brendon whispers, rolling on top of you and pinning your hands over your head so he can kiss you deeply. You relent as his mouth moves over yours, your ankles locked around his waist. It feels like forever since he’s been able to kiss you like this; it’s been soft pecks and quick presses of lips to temples, foreheads, and hair in passing. You’ve both been so wrapped up with Olivia and you don’t begrudge the fact, but you’ve missed him touching you and holding you like this. He must have missed it too, you realize, when he moans against your lips and you’re both growing more and more heated. He’s freed your hands but you’re clutching at each other now, pulling at clothes, moving against each other, desperate for more. He pulls away suddenly to stare at you. “You’re gorgeous. You’re my perfect, gorgeous wife and I love you more every day. You gave me that sweet baby in there, and I’ll love you both with everything I have forever. You don’t need to put in any effort. You’re my perfect wife, my dream girl.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble, still flushed from the embrace. You meet his eyes. “I’m still gonna shower though.” He laughs and kisses you again, telling you he’ll never keep you from a shower, and in fact, he just might join you -||-

“You know what today is?” Brendon gives you a meaningful smile. You tilt your head to one side playfully, waiting for him to finish the thought. “Today,” he murmurs, sliding closer to you in bed as Olivia coos sleepily from her bassinet, “our darling daughter is six weeks old.” You feign ignorance, and Brendon grins. “Today is the first day, per doctor’s recommendation, that I can take care of you.”

You decide to keep messing with him. “Brendon, you’ve been taking care of me and Olivia for the past six weeks. You’ve been such a great father.” 

“Thank you, but not what I meant.” He pulls you against him so he can nibble on your neck. “I meant,” he murmurs against your skin, “that today is the first day in a long time that I can get those perfect thighs wrapped around my head.” He grins up at you and you pretend to be horrified at the idea of sex. “Don’t even try it, Y/n, I know you miss my mouth.” He tries to look smug and you laugh but concede the point. “I know what else you missed too,” he adds. 

“Now I think I see where this is going,” you say with a grin as you trail a hand down his chest and into his sweatpants. You stroke him firmly, relishing how he grunts and bucks into your grasp. “But do we really have to wait til tonight?”

Brendon groans and kisses you hard. “No, Y/n. We don’t.” You moan and stroke him faster, your hips moving subconsciously. “Don’t worry, love. I'm gonna make it so good,” he promises, and you believe him. -||- 

“You know,” Brendon mumbles as he rolls onto his back and you shift with him, pressing lazy kisses to his neck and shoulder and collar bone, “call me crazy but...and no offense intended, I think the sex might be even better now.” He looks down at you, inquisitive. “I know it’s only been two weeks since we started having sex again, but I think I can safely say, it’s fucking phenomenal.” 

“Mmmm,” you agree, still kissing him and tracing hearts on his stomach. “Read an article on that,” and Brendon interrupts you, saying that of course you read an article on sex, his gorgeous, dirty nerd, and you poke him playfully. “Aaaaaanyway,” you continue with a grin, “apparently sex does get better after pregnancy. I’m more...sensitive,” you murmur and you giggle when his fingers dip into you, “and apparently things...well. Let’s just day all that pressure from the baby plus hours of pushing shifted some things internally which can make it easier for you to rub against my g-spot.” 

“Oh really?” Brendon rolls over on top of you now, kissing you longingly. “Is that so?” You nod and he slides his fingers in further, curling back, watching in satisfaction as your eyes go wide and your hips move. “God, you’re so sexy,” Brendon whispers, eyes on yours. “Be good and come on my fingers, Y/n. Come on my fingers now and I’ll give you my cock later.” You whine and spread your legs wider for him.

“Take your time,” you tell him. “Olivia is down for her afternoon nap. We have probably an hour.” He nods and kisses your neck as his fingers go deep. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, bucking up against him. “I love you so fucking much.” -||-

You’re almost sound asleep after a long day at the park, Olivia shrieking with glee when the ducks float by, you and Brendon walking with your hands tangled together as he pushes the stroller. It’s late; you’ve already made and cleaned up dinner and Brendon has given Olivia a bath before passing her off to you for one last bedtime story. You’re both exhausted so you’re barely conscious when you hear Brendon stumbling into the nursery when the baby monitor crackles. You pick your head up lazily, listening for his soft singing to her as he picks her up and carries her back into your room. 

But the singing doesn’t come. You lift your head higher, confused, wondering what he’s doing, and your heart clenches when you hear his strangled cry. “Y/n, call 911,” he shouts, and you’re on your feet, grabbing at your phone, frantically punching the code into your phone and dialing 911.  You fly into the room and Brendon is leaning over Olivia on the changing table, muttering and cursing under his breath. “She’s not breathing,” he tells you, and you let out a frightened sob. 

The operator is speaking calmly, asking you for your address, asking you for details, and you are getting more and more panicked after you’ve given the address, so you just put him on speakerphone and thrust it at Brendon. “I heard a sound on the monitor and I went to check on her and she wasn’t responding and -“ he chokes back a sob and the operator takes over, giving level instructions, making sure her head is in a neutral position and to lift her chin. 

You confirm that she is, and the operator tells Brendon to take a breath, then cover the baby's mouth and nose with his mouth, making sure it's sealed. She tells you that if he can't cover both the mouth and nose at the same time, just seal one with his mouth. 

She tells him to blow a breath steadily into Olivia’s mouth and nose over one second. He should blow enough to make her chest visibly rise. Once he’s done that, you need to keep her head tilted and chin lifted and he can take his mouth away and watch for her chest to fall as air comes out.

You tell Brendon that the operator says to take another breath and repeat this sequence four more times. “Please, please just send help,” you sob, and the operator assures you that she dispatched an ambulance as soon as you gave her the address and they’re en route. 

“She’s not responding,” Brendon whispers and you can hear the anguish in his voice. You whirl around, phone in your hand, snapping at him to keep trying. “I’m not going to stop,” he promises you. “I’m not going to stop.”

It feels like hours later when the flashing lights and screaming sirens rent the night and you and Brendon are flying down the stairs to meet the paramedics as they cross the front lawn. “She’s so cold,” you whimper, clinging to Brendon’s arm as the first EMT reaches out to take Olivia from his arms. “Save my baby,” you plead, your voice breaking, and Brendon wraps an arm around you and leads you back inside. 

Two paramedics are kneeling over her on the hardwood floor of the living room and Brendon is holding you back, his arms tight around you as you sob and reach for her. 

From that point forward, everything speeds up but it feels like your body is frozen. Brendon is still holding you, now on the couch, rocking you back and forth as you both sob; yours loud and heaving, his silent and wracking his whole body. The lead EMT won’t let you touch Olivia; she’s on the floor with a blanket over her. “My baby,” you wail, your voice hoarse, your gestures feeble. “She’s so cold and she’s probably scared; please just let me hold my baby!”

The detective, O’Brien, comes in and takes you from Brendon’s arms gently, leading you to the kitchen. He presses a cup of coffee into your shaking hands and you stare into it. “I don’t know what happened,” you say in a dull voice. “We woke up to the baby monitor making a funny noise and Brendon went to check on her. The next thing I heard was him yelling for me to call 911. This is a nightmare.” 

He nods and asks a few more questions until you catch on and your head snaps up from your coffee to stare at him. “Are you asking me if my husband hurt my daughter?” He gives you a blank look as though to keep you talking and you recoil from him. “Never. He would never. You’ve never seen a man who adored his child more. He would never.” You’re shaking your head adamantly. 

“Okay,” O’Brien says coolly, eyes still on yours. “So what happened?” He’s quiet and you fall silent. “I think I’d like to talk to your husband now, Mrs. Urie.” His voice is soft and you nod, tears pooling. 

“Can I see my baby?” You’re broken, coffee sloshing over the edge of your mug as your hands shake. “I want to see my baby.”

“Yes, but the paramedics may have already taken-“

You let out a strangled sob and rush back to the living room, the coffee mug shattering at your feet. You’re not even aware of the scalding liquid splashing against your shins and ankles; the breath is knocked out of you when you see him. Brendon is on his knees where Olivia was, clutching the blanket that the paramedics had used to cover her small body. “Where is she?” You’re screaming now, and Brendon stares up at you, tears pouring, eyes swollen. 

“They took her they wouldn’t let me hold her they took her from me and I begged them to wait begged them to wait for you I said you’d want to hold oh god baby she’s gone they took her I couldn’t stop them oh fuck,” Brendon chokes on the tears and you’re on your knees next to him. “Don’t fucking touch her,” Brendon snaps when O’Brien reaches out to you to get your attention and you burrow into Brendon’s arms, sobs bordering on shrieks of anguish. 

“Mr. Urie,” O’Brien says softly, switching his focus. 

Brendon‘s eyes find his, glaring at the detective. “What?” He spits, trembling all over. “What could you possibly need from me right now? What could possibly be so urgent that you take me from my wife right now? You’ve already taken her last opportunity to hold her child; you don’t get to take me from her right now.” His eyes are narrowed in loathing, and you shudder, clinging to him. 

“I need to hear from you what happened.” The detective rocks back on his heels. “It won’t take long.”

“I’m not leaving Y/n.” He’s adamant on this, and O’Brien sighs, settling into the chair across the room from you two. “Ask me anything you want, but do not take me from my wife at this moment.” You’re shaking, the image of your baby under her pale pink blanket burned in the back of your eyelids. 

“Did you hurt your daughter?”

“Fuck you,” you snap without looking at him, and Brendon kisses the top of your head, his eyes locked on the other man. 

“No,” he says simply. “No. I tried to save my daughter. I tried to be a good-“ his voice breaks and you wail, collapsing and burying your face in his knees. “Father.” Brendon manages. “I tried to be a good father and save my daughter.” -||- 

You’re huddled together in the coroner's office several days later, clinging to each other. She settles behind her desk and sighs, steepling her fingers together in front of her mouth. When she meets your eyes, you can see the pain and regret there. “Just tell me,” you whisper, clenching his hand in both of yours. You know she’s done an autopsy; you know the detectives have to explore the possibility of - you won’t let yourself finish that thought because you know there’s no merit to it. “Just tell us.”

“SIDS,” she says softly, closing her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” You believe her. She has no answers to your pleas of how this could happen, or what went wrong, or what you could have possibly done differently, but what she can tell you is that it probably wasn’t anything to do with the IUD. It isn’t a consolation. “We truly don’t have answers when it comes to this. It doesn’t make any sense,” she offers, wincing when you utter a soft whimper. 

“Can we see her?” Brendon asks as his last question, his voice laced with pain. You echo the question, trembling. She nods and stands again, leading you into a separate room. The tiny form under the sheet makes you stumble and clutch at Brendon’s arm as you both let out audible gasps of pain. The coroner looks to you both and Brendon looks at you and you nod. He turns back to her. “Go ahead.” He inhales sharply and you bury your face in his chest when she pulls the sheet. 

“Her skin,” you whimper, reaching out to trace the stitches that try to mask the cuts the doctor made in efforts to prove - or disprove - the police officers’ theory. “She was perfect. And they’ve -” ‘Mutilated her’ are the words you can’t choke out; you’re horrified and heartbroken and it feels like the walls are closing in on you. 

Brendon wraps both arms around you tightly and presses his lips to your temple as he chokes back his sobs. “She still is perfect,” Brendon manages, stroking your hair. “She’s perfect. She’s our perfect angel.” 

You’re numb as Brendon works through the details of releasing her body to a funeral home; he selects one that promises quick and respectful preparation and will pick up from the hospital. You nod dully when he asks you soft questions and stare at your hands. “She was perfect,” you repeat softly. “All the ways things could have gone wrong from the very beginning and she fought - she was - she was our perfect baby,” you whimper. “It’s not fair.” 

“It never is. I’m so sorry, I wish there was something I could say.” the coroner offers and you fix her with a level stare, conscious of the tears rolling down your cheeks. You don’t need an audience; you don’t need her response. This isn’t for her benefit. 

Brendon holds you tightly with one hand as he signs the last sheet she’s pushed toward him. “Let me take you home,” he says in a low voice. Standing on shaking legs, you let him lead you back to the waiting car. You’re riding together in silence, your fingers locked together on the center console. “I think,” he says gently, “when we get home, we should each have a cup of tea and then take a nap.” 

“I’m not going to sleep,” you say simply. ”If I had been awake, none of this would have happened.” He sighs and leans over at the red light to kiss your temple. You whimper as he makes contact and he sighs again, telling you that you know that isn’t true. You shrug, staring blankly ahead. “True or not, I’m not going to sleep. I won’t be able to sleep.” 

“She gave us a prescription for Zoloft,” Brendon tells you. “To help us get some peace, even if it is medically induced. And Minipress for insomnia and nightmares. I didn’t know she could prescribe but I guess given the circumstances...” he trails off and you say nothing. He drives on in silence. It’s been maybe fifteen minutes of quiet when you turn to him. 

“Do you have a sledgehammer?” You phrase the question innocently enough and he turns to catch your eye, telling you that he does, but he’s not sure why you need it. “I have a project,” you say vaguely, not meeting his eyes. 

“Y/n,” he says softly. “Talk to me.”

“There are no words,” you respond, your voice flat and emotionless. He opens his mouth, a hurt expression on his face, and you’re quick to add, “I don’t blame you. I don’t. I promise, I don’t. I know you’re just as heartbroken as I am, and I know I can lean on you - I’ll need to - and we will get through this together. I know we will. But I’m truly - I don’t know what there is to say except how much it hurts.”

Brendon’s face softens and he takes your hand. “I understand,” he tells you. “I do...and we don’t have to talk together to grieve together. I know that.” There’s a long pause. “You’re not going to hurt yourself with the sledgehammer, are you?” He looks wary. 

“Not intentionally, no.”

“Okay. Well if you promise to be careful…” he hesitates and you promise. “Okay,” he repeats, rubbing soft circles over your hand with his thumb. “Okay, honey. But I don’t - I don’t know how I feel about this. Let’s fill these prescriptions first...just in case.” You nod and he heads towards the CVS downtown. -||-

The sledgehammer isn’t in your hand for thirty seconds before you’re headed for the stairs at a quick pace. “Please be careful,” he calls after you, anxious again, and you can hear him following you.

You shove through your bedroom door and into the nursery. Planting your feet, you swing and watch and feel with satisfaction how the wood of the crib splinters. You swing again and there’s another crack. You swing again and the once-solid frame is one blow away from being reduced to a pile of wooden pieces on the floor. Brendon appears in the doorway, your name half-out of his mouth but he stops short, watching you in horror. You swing again and miss because you’re crying so hard that your vision is blurred. It throws you slightly off-balance and you topple over, hitting the floor hard, the sledgehammer falling beside you. 

“Y/n!” Brendon’s on his knees beside you, terror in his eyes and you’re sobbing, clinging to him. “Honey, you’re bleeding,” he says, holding your hands out in front of him and you blink a few times, letting the sight register. You fell and landed palms-down on the debris - you realize that your hands, arms, and knees are scraped, cut, bleeding, and splinters of once-polished wood are pressing into your knees. “Y/n, stay down for a sec,” Brendon says, struggling to his feet amidst the chaos. “Let me- okay, come here, love. That’s it. Careful now- I’m gonna carry you, okay?” He says it in his ‘I’m not actually asking’ voice but you nod anyway. He takes you in his arms, seemingly not caring as your blood stains his shirt and pants and smears across his arms, and carries you out of the nursery, back to your bedroom, and into the en-suite bathroom. 

“Sit,” he says gently, and you collapse on the edge of the tub, fingers gripping the ceramic edge to the point of stinging pain. He kneels in front of you and, with a small bowl of warm, soapy water and a pile of cotton pads, starts to dab at your cuts. He works his way up from your shins to your knees, pressing gently and cleaning away the blood. “I’m not mad,” he tells you after a moment, looking up at you. “I just wish you’d told me that’s what you were planning.” He pauses. “I would have given you protective eyewear.” You let out a strangled sob-laugh and wince as he blots at the cuts and scratches on your palms. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, voice hoarse from crying. He nods and goes back to your shins to apply Neosporin and cover each deeper cut on your body with a bandage. “Thank you,” you repeat when he stands and helps you to your feet. He holds you close and you take a shuddering breath. “I think I’d like that nap now,” you whisper. 

“Let me take you to bed,” Brendon agrees, lifting you back into his arms and carrying you over to the bed. He places you gingerly in the middle of the shared bed and you tug him down on top of you. He supports himself on his forearms and looks down at you tenderly. “My sweet girl,” he whispers. The tears fill your eyes again and he leans down to kiss you softly. “Do you want to try to sleep without medicine?” You nod and he rolls off of you, but you move with him so you’re tucked into his side. “Alright... let's try to get some rest then,” Brendon murmurs, tugging the blankets up over you. “I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you. I’m right here, Y/n, I’m right here.” 

You both toss and turn, and you can hear Brendon trying to muffle his own sobs. You pick up your head after what feels like thirty minutes. “We should take the drugs,” you mutter and Brendon nods, rolling out of bed and stumbling to the dresser where the pill bottles rest. You both pop a Zoloft and a Minipress and he turns onto his back, holding out his arm for you to nestle into him. You press against him and you inhale shakily, closing your eyes. “Do you feel anything yet?”

“No,” Brendon admits, and you say the same. “Maybe it takes time to kick in,” he mumbles, and you nod. “We’re gonna get through tomorrow together. I promise.”

You look up at him, confused. “What’s tomorrow?”

“The - Y/n, it’s - it’s Olivia’s funeral.” -||-

“Will you zip me up?” Your voice is flat and empty as you stare in the mirror. Brendon steps behind you and zips your dress before resting his hands on your shoulders. You turn and face him, adjusting his tie. “I’m not ready,” you tell him, and he shakes his head. 

“Me either.” He takes a shaky breath. “Together. We’re going to get through it together.” He squeezes your hand and meets your eyes. “It’s gonna be so fucking hard,” he says, his voice thick with tears. “But I promise, Y/n, I’m gonna be strong for us.”

“Brendon,” you whimper, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m going to try to be strong for us.” You peer up at him. “I make no promises.”

“I love you,” he whispers. “I promise that no matter what, I will love you and I will always be there for you.” Holding hands, the two of you walk down the stairs and you’re startled when the doorbell rings. “I didn’t want either of us to have to drive,” he tells you and opens the door. There’s a young man in a dark suit, and you notice the black town car lingering in the street. “Come on, love.” Legs trembling, you walk down the steps of the front porch and Brendon opens the car door for you. 

You slide into the back seat and he settles next to you. “I know you talked about the funeral,” you tell him, squeezing his hand. “But I also know that I sort of blocked all that out.”

Brendon smiles sadly. “I know, honey. I know. I decided small and private, just you and me and a...a closed casket. I’m doing a song for Olivia on the piano that I haven’t been able to get out of my head since, and then we’ll head to the ceme-“ he pauses and clears his throat. “Cemetery.”  He's blinking back tears and you stifle a sob. 

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, and Brendon wraps his arm around your shoulder and presses his lips to your temple. “I just can’t.” -||-

You’re clenching his hand as you approach the funeral home entrance and the woman who meets you in the lobby gives you a sympathetic smile that makes you want to tear your hair out and scream. She ushers you into the room and it’s a punch to the stomach. 

“Our baby,” you whisper, stumbling towards the tiny white casket. “Our baby is in there.” You whirl around, your eyes wide and frightened. “Brendon, hel-“ is all you manage before you hit the floor. You’re conscious, coherent even, aware that you’re down on your hands and knees in front of the casket and its stand. Brendon is kneeling beside you, and the woman is gesturing towards two overstuffed chairs off to the side. 

You’re still looking around, bewildered by your surroundings and Brendon peers in your eyes. “Y/n, honey?” He lifts you up and walks you over to the chair, kneeling in front of you once you’re seated, with both of his hands holding yours. “Sweetheart, are you- do you know-“ he breaks off, pressing a fist to his mouth before pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly trying not to cry. 

“We’re at the funeral home and our baby is in there,” you whisper, flinging a hand toward the casket. “I’m not okay and I do know what’s going on.” You stare at him. “You can cry, Brendon. You don’t have to hold it together in front of me.” He bows his head and rests it on your knees, taking several shaky breaths before swearing under his breath. The broken sobs come then, and you lay both of your hands on his back, feeling his body heave with the exertion. You double over, pressing your lips to the back of his head, openly crying too. His fingers dig into your bare thighs and you claw at his back, both of you absolutely broken in this moment. “I didn’t - I haven’t held her since I put her to bed that night,” you whimper, and Brendon stares up at you, horror-struck. 

“Honey, I - and the paramedics took her while the detective talked to you and then - the autop-“ the look on his face shows that understanding is dawning on him. You let out another breathless sob and shake your head. “I could - they might- if you wanted-“ Brendon offers quietly. “I don’t know if it’s even poss- but I could ask- I mean. If you want.”

Your eyes are red and swollen and you stare at him, trembling all over. “I want to say goodbye to our baby.” He nods decisively and visibly collects himself before standing up and crossing the room to the woman who has given you both your space. You close your eyes and try to focus on not throwing up. It feels like an hour when Brendon is finally back and seated beside you. 

“They can open the casket...If you want to hold her,” he tells you gently. “There’s no right or wrong decision here, my love. It’s whatever you want.”

You don’t even need to think about it. “I want to say goodbye to our baby,” you repeat, more resolute this time. “Please.” He must hear the desperation in your voice because he takes your hand, looks over at the woman, and nods. She approaches and takes out a small hexagonal key and inserts it into the end of the casket, twisting slightly and manipulating the edge of the top. You’re staring at her and inhale audibly when she lifts the lid and steps back respectfully. You’re on your feet in an instant, reaching in to lift her from the white satin lining. 

“I - I thought you’d want to keep part her receiving blanket,” Brendon explains, when you notice the apparently-new seam of the blanket swaddling your child. “So I had them cut her blanket down. I have the other half at home, when-when you want it.” 

“Thank you,” you say softly, eyes locked on your daughter. “Even now, she’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” You look at him and he nods, face soft as he watches you instinctively rock and bounce in place, as though you’re trying to soothe her. “Our perfect baby,” you murmur. “Miss Olivia Hayden, you are our perfect baby. We loved you so much.” You look back at him and the tears are tracking down both of your faces. “We love you so much,” you correct yourself, your throat tight. When you look up again, Brendon is at the piano in the room and he smiles shakily. 

His fingers touch the keys and you sink into the chair, Olivia still in your arms. You recognize the song and choke on the sob. He’s singing Billy Joel’s “Lullaby,” his facial expression rigid concentration over obvious heartbreak. “Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes, And save these questions for another day...I think I know what you've been asking me...I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, Then you should always know...Wherever you may go, no matter where you are...I never will be far away.” 

He tries to keep playing but he’s overcome with emotion and pushes back from the keys. “I can’t do any more,” he whispers after a long moment of silence, and you’re telling him it’s okay, it’s fine. He’s back at your side, stroking the bridge of her nose tenderly. “Our beautiful, perfect girl. Looks just like her mama.” You shake your head. 

“Has her daddy’s hair and eyes,” you counter, and Brendon smiles softly, conceding the point. You’re both silent for a long time, nestled together, holding her in your lap, tears rolling down both of your faces. You only move when the funeral home attendant comes back in to let you know the hearse is there and ready when you are. 

You look at each other and you take a shaky breath. Brendon squeezes your hand and you, with a low moan, stand and place Olivia back in the casket. Brendon wraps his arms around your waist from behind and his wrecking sobs shake your body too. She approaches and replaces the lid on the casket, giving you a sympathetic expression as she inserts the key, twists, and you hear the lock slide into place. Your legs feel weak and you’re pretty sure you’re only still standing from Brendon’s support - mentally and physically, you realize. She leaves and the two of you wait until the casket is taken out and loaded into the hearse. With Brendon’s hand on the small of your back, he guides you over to the dark car and opens the door for you. Her casket, gleaming white, is nestled in between two passenger seats in the back and you take a deep breath before sitting in one of the seats. Brendon walks around the back of the car and enters through the other door, reaching over the smooth white wood to take your hand. 

“You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispers to you, and you give him a tight, watery smile. “You’re being so strong, Y/n. You don’t have to be. You can fall apart,” Brendon tells you, his own eyes shining. “Right now, all of this-this is for you and me. Whatever we need to feel some level of peace, if that’s even possible. You don’t have to be strong for anyone. Heaven knows I’m not going to judge you. The town car is following behind us so we can stay at the grave as long as you want and leave whenever you want. There is nothing anyone can do or say to make this even approach being okay. So you don’t need to pretend, okay?” 

You nod and lean over to rest your head on his shoulder, not even trying to hide your body-wracking sobs at this point. “Thank you,” you whisper, clinging to his hand. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies, just as the car pulls to a stop. You freeze and give Brendon a panicked look. “Love?” He looks concerned now; you look more stricken than ever. “We do have to get out of this car though,” he tells you, and you whimper as he loosens his grip on your hand. “Hold on, I’m coming,” he says softly, flinging open his door and coming around to your side and opening yours. “I’m right here, Y/n.” 

You stand on shaking legs and he holds you tightly, both of you openly crying. From how he’s clutching you, you know your tears are staining his suit but neither of you cares. The sky above is a bright blue, but there’s a chill in the air that promises snow. 

The funeral home employees carefully remove the casket and Brendon holds you firmly against him, one hand on the back of your head to keep you from watching as they fit the casket into the lowering equipment. You’re shaking and crying and when he releases you, you turn around and the two of you carefully approach the edge. You stand under the tent and Brendon wraps his arms around you from behind. The two men offer you a quiet moment of reflection, and at Brendon’s nod after you squeeze his hand, they begin to lower the casket into the vault and both sink into the ground. 

It’s like something snaps in you. You lurch forward, breaking free of Brendon’s grasp and you find yourself at the edge, down on your knees. The green felt covering the gravesite around the opening scratches at your knees and you’re rocking back and forth, sobbing. “Brendon,” you wail, and he’s beside you, holding you securely back from the edge. You both know you won’t end up in the grave; the lowering equipment is blocking you. He’s more worried about you mentally. “Brendon, don't let them put her down there it’s so dark - it’s so dark -it’s so dark and - and you know she is afraid of the dark - Brendon, do something!” You’re clawing at his arms, wild-eyed and he’s sobbing too, both of you clinging to each other. “Brendon, don’t let them,” you whimper, and he runs a hand over your hair and down your over and over again. “Brendon, that’s our baby - don’t let them do that to her!” Your voice cracks and you dissolve into wordless shrieks. 

“I’m so sorry Y/n,” he keeps repeating over and over as he rocks you both back and forth. “I’m so sorry I didn’t - I couldn’t - keep her safe, oh god,” Brendon whispers, anguish evident. The whirring of the equipment stops and you are enveloped in his arms on the ground, the white lilies you intended to drop over the vault abandoned back in the car. One of the men must realize this because he moves silently to the hearse and collects the bundle. He approaches silently and, with a tap on Brendon’s shoulder, presents the flowers to him. 

“Thank you,” Brendon whispers, and he squeezes you slightly to get your attention. “Y/n, we should -“ and he gestures wordlessly to the flowers. You nod and, choking back more sobs, allow him to help you clamber to your feet. Still arm in arm, you drop the flowers one by one into the open grave. “The way her face lit up whenever you held her,” Brendon whispers as he drops the first.  

“Her giggle when you’d tickle her stomach before feeding,” you reply, dropping the second. 

“How she’d wrinkle her nose a moment before she started crying so you had time to scoop her up and get to the rocker,” Brendon says, dropping the third.

“The way her eyes looked just like yours, even from birth,” you murmur, dropping the fourth. 

“How she’d sleep so peacefully in your arms because she knew how much you loved her,” Brendon says softly, dropping his last flower. 

You sniffle and dab at your eyes. “How she’d sleep so peacefully in your arms, because she knew how much you loved her,” You echo, meeting his eyes. You drop your last flower. The sky opens up and the rain falls in heavy sheets. -||-

The town car idles by the curb and you and Brendon step out under an umbrella. Brendon ducks his head down to say something to the driver, his hand still tangled with yours, and you stare at your front door. “Let’s go inside,” Brendon says with a heavy sigh. 

“I want a Zoloft,” you tell him in a soft voice. He nods, saying he’ll make you both a cup of tea as well. Between the tea and the drugs and the driving rain, you’re both sound asleep in bed within thirty minutes. 

You wake up two hours later, physically dragging but mentally wide awake, knowing what you have to do. You climb from the bed, careful not to wake him, and tiptoe to the closet and reach for your suitcase. Silently, you place it on the floor and start pulling clothes from the drawers and hangers. You jump when you hear his voice, distraught. 

“I thought we’d get through this together,” he whispers, staring at you from the doorway, clearly devastated. He’s crying again, and you can’t even speak, you’re so surprised. “Please don’t do this,” he begs, dropping to his knees in front of you. “Please don’t leave me. I cannot survive this without you. Please, Y/n, I know how much it hurts to be here, I do. I know. But please don’t leave me. I will not make it one day without you by my side. I- please,” he whimpers, clutching at your hand. “Please, let me come with you. I’m coming too.” His eyes harden like he’s made a decision. “Wait for me. I’m coming. Let me grab my things. I’m coming with you.” Despite the resolution in his eyes, his voice is still a desperate plea and that’s what shakes you back into awareness. 

“Brendon,” you say softly, trying to get his attention. “Brendon,” you repeat and he looks at you, eyes wild. “I packed for you too.” You gesture at the suitcase and sure enough, he can see his own clothes in the piles with yours. “I’m leaving, but you’re coming with me.” You take a shaky breath. “I can’t make it without you either. I need you by my side. I just can’t be-“ you choke on the tears. “I just can’t be here.”

[paimonial-rage]

woes of bookkeeping - zhongli

synopsis: in which the reader tries to argue contracts with the god of contracts

ship: none other than reader’s hatred for zhongli

notes: based on zhongli’s character tale. also, the author knows nothing of chinese bookkeeping, only usa bookkeeping

This is you—Bookkeeper at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. No one of importance (lol).

This gentleman before you is the most knowledgeable consultant, Mr. Zhongli.

He is well liked by many people that work for the Parlor. The ferrylady describes him as an "amazing" and "generous" person. However, after coming to know him over the past few weeks, you feel these words do not capture him well.

"Ah yes, those specimens bought a few days ago? They were of rare and high quality. The glaze work on the vases are unique to a period over a thousand years old. I presume they were works of the famed master artisan Fangji."

Yes, if you had to describe Mr. Zhongli in one word, it'd be...

"It would have been a shame not to purchase them."

... a parasite.

More specifically, bourgeois parasite whose only utility lied in providing quaint pieces of trivia on demand. However, if draining the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's bank account was a legitimate duty, you could fully say he'd be doing an amazing job.

You often questioned the necessity of his position to the director. After all, ignoring Rex Lapis, when was the last time an adeptus passed? Most of the clients barely required any hint of in depth knowledge to fulfill their clan's funeral rites! However, the director, being young as she is, waved you off in favor of bothering the Liyue Adventurers' Guild for the fifth time this month.

But this was it. You prepared for this moment. After arguing with Mr. Zhongli for weeks, you finally figured out how to pin him down. He seemed to favor tradition and appreciate the rich history of Liyue. He wouldn't be able to refute anything you say!

"Did you know, Mr. Zhongli? When one becomes a citizen of Liyue, they enter into a contract with it. In exchange for living here, the are bound to the laws of Liyue. These are the terms of the contract, you see. And of the many laws, there are quite a few that deal with the exchange of mora. Business transactions must deal with business matters, not personal. This is because this directly affects the tax a business owes. To categorize a personal transaction as a business one would be breaking the law and thus the terms of the contract. Do you see where I am going here?"

You were on a roll. He had nowhere to run. Now you all that was left was the finishing blow.

"I am often asked to conceal these expenses, ah, I mean your expenses, in the accounts. But seeing that Liyue Harbor is the City of Contracts and I am still loyal to our deceased God of Contracts, I'm sure you understand why this puts me in a difficult position."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Even though you wanted to smack that sheepish smile off his face, you couldn't help but feel a bit shocked he agreed with you. Usually he'd slithering his way out.

"It simply is not right to purchase these items on the Parlor's account, wouldn't you agree? They are not being used for funerals, so I am sure your personal funds would be more suitable."

And just like that, his pose shifted and expression changed.

Oh no.

He took the liberty to pause in thought with the grace and humor of a parent dealing with a toddler's tantrum.

Oh no.

"I understand where you are coming from, Honorable Bookkeeper, but if we are to go by your words, if the items are being used for parlor purposes, they would be considered parlor expenses, wouldn't you agree?"

Where was he going with this...?

"Yes, that would be the case, but–"

"And if they are parlor expenses, it would only make sense to use the parlor's funds, yes?"

"Yes, but we both know that–"

"Then there is nothing you need to worry about. The terms of the contract you are concerned with have not and will not be broken."

Your fists shook as you spluttered in outrage.

"Wh-What are you talking about? They are clearly personal expenses! How could they not be!?"

Oh, the look on his face. You could see it from the twinkle in his eye. He found you amusing.

"Ah, perhaps you have not been told, but the contract I have with the previous director includes purchasing supplies for future jobs. All the items I have purchased with Parlor funds have fallen under such category."

No. No no no no no, you weren't going to lose now. You weren't going to let him slip away again!

"B-But upon the appointment of the new director, such a contract would have been nullified--"

"Director Hu decided to inherit it."

You wanted to scream. The two people that spent the most Parlor funds were also the two that had the least amount of brain cells among the employees. Was this why the previous bookkeeper left after a month?

But...

You could talk sense into Director Hu, right? Sure, she never listened before, but if you showed her the state of the accounts and gave your recommendations, she would certainly hear you out, right??? You will have to get on her.

"I will have to talk to Director Hu about this matter."

Maybe if you're lucky, you'll be able to finish everything before reports are due next week–

"Ahh..."

Oh archons no. Whenever he made that pained face, nothing good ever came out of it.

"About that... I heard a few have recommended she alter the terms of the contract in the past, but she turned them down every time."

Oh.

"It will also be a bit before you can meet with her. She left on a business trip this morning and will not be returning for three weeks time."

Oh.

So that's how it was going to be. You got it. You understood. You were abandoned by the gods, weren't you?

You laughed ever so softly as your eyes welled with tears.

"!!!!!"

"A-Ah, don't worry too much about it. She'll be back soon. How about I treat you to lunch...?"

"... I think I'm going to quit."

[peace-for-levi]

Levi x GN!Reader on their Period

These are just edited/rewritten headcanons because I am on my period now and it is PAINFUL. I have PCOS and really painful periods, so I totally get painful periods. Sometimes I can’t even stand up with the cramps! And the headache I had today omg???

Warnings: just fluff, already established relationship with Levi, Levi having a bit of a potty mouth, female-bodied reader (but still written in a GN persepctive.) Levi is OOC, but leave me alone I'm on my period LOL

--

You hated periods, who doesn’t? Sometimes you could handle them just fine. Sure, you might have to just ‘smile through the pain’ or whatever, but it was never something outrageous. After all, you’d had your fair share of injuries over the years and you’d gladly take a few days of period cramps over getting your leg nearly gnawed clean off. You were a veteran squad leader, you could handle a bit of pain for sure!

You still had some months where it was unbearable. Like, the only way you’d get out of bed was if you were pulled out by someone… Not that you-know-who wouldn’t try. You had managed to keep the period talk to a nought around your boyfriend as the relationship was very fresh, just a few months old. You may have known each other for years, but the man was so icky about dirt and dust as it is, there’s no way he’d handle the dreaded monthly visitor, right?

It was when you had overslept one morning because you were up all night trying to get to sleep with the pain that he managed to find out. It wasn’t like you to oversleep, either, so he had to go knocking.

“Oi, [F/n], get up.” He commanded from outside the bedroom door. He was currently standing in your office and he noticed the abandoned paperwork on your desk. Weird, they normally finish what they’re doing, he said to himself.

It was true, you were a hard worker. But last night, it was too much and you called it an early night. He knocked again and you groaned. When he heard silence he pushed the door open. Great, your peace was disturbed. Your eyes snapped open when you felt a wet sensation between your legs. Oh, god, you went to bed fully prepared and yet… you still ended up with soiled sheets?! Levi was making his way over to you and you hid under the covers, not ready to face the world

“Get up, [F/n], the squad is waiting for you.” He said. Sometimes, you split the training of the new Levi Squad between the two of you. They were a lovely bunch of kids and it made you feel guilty that you had overslept. You just groaned again in response, really not in the mood for anything today. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” You muttered under the sheets, wrapping yourself further.

“Then get up.” He said. He raised a leg and proceeded to kick your form. It wasn’t by any means a hard kick at all, he would never be violent around you on purpose. It was just him being a bit on the rough side because of his thug background. It was just that… the kick ended up hitting your tummy. You cried out and rolled over, turning your back to him.

Okay, they can definitely handle a punch, this isn’t like them, he said to himself. Unbeknownst to him, he just thought you were being a baby. He attempted to unfold you from the covers, tugging at them hard. Sensing he’d see the mess, you clawed at them back, trying to keep yourself wrapped up. He could not see the stain, never ever! What would he do? He’d pounce onto the ceiling and start cowering in fear! (slight exaggeration but you know what I mean)

Levi always won these battles though and he pulled away the covers, leaving the frigid air attack you. His eyes immediately caught sight of the stain. He stared for a few seconds and you swore you saw his eyes softening a tad before leaving you by yourself. You were too busy lamenting in your embarrassment with eyes tightly shut and face buried into the pillow that you only just barely heard the thud next to you of something being dropped onto your bed. You opened an eye and saw a change of clothes, towels and bedsheets. In the blink of an eye, Levi had pulled you out of the confines of your bed and brought a hand to your face to get your attention. You still kept your eyes clamped shut not wanting to face him. But once he smoothed his thumbs under your lower eyelids and softly robbed your cheeks, you opened them.

Whether it was the hormones or the sheer embarrassment of your S/O AND superior catching you in such a state, but fat tears rolled down your cheeks and you began to cry. And it was an ugly cry.

"Hey, hey..." he whispered softly. "What's up?"

"'What's up?'" you parroted, "Fucking that's what's up!" you exclaimed, pointing to the bedsheets. You brought your hands to your face to hide your tears and Levi honestly found it kinda humorous. It wasn't like you to cry over something so inconsequential.

He had enough sense to not laugh right now though, this was a big deal to you right now.

“Just a stain that can be easily removed," he assured in a hushed tone. The sense of urgency from his voice was now gone and his tone was much softer. It had to be; you weren't exactly having the best time right now.

"Grab a towel, and go have a shower. I’ll take care of the bedsheets,” he said, motioning to the bathroom in your room. “Come out when you’re ready, I’ll be here waiting.” He grabbed your hand and slipped a tampon/pad in there discreetly before shoving you away so that you could get ready.

All you could think about was how disgusted he must have been while changing your bed sheets but you took your time in the shower. Once you finished, you changed and you noticed Levi picked up a uniform that was a size higher than normal, opting for comfort. The pants were definitely looser but you also appreciated that gesture immediately. You walked out with damp, dripping hair and caught sight of your boyfriend sitting on a neatly made bed with a cup of tea in his hand. He got up once he noticed you staring and then walked over to you. With a “be careful, it’s hot” he got you to hold the cup and encouraged you to drink.

“I put sugar in the tea, you need the energy.” He said plainly and walked over to the bed. You began to take a drink when you noticed he had hopped under the covers after shrugging off his tan-military jacket. He held open the covers for you, motioning to slip in with him.

Maybe he wasn’t as grossed out as you thought…? Or maybe he was hiding it?

Either way, you snuggled up beside him - not passing up any opportunity where he willingly invited you to cuddle - and buried your face in the crook of his neck. He asked if there was any way you’d prefer to lay in and he adjusted accordingly.

“You’re not mad at the mess?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.

“It’s fine. Not like you could help it.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He replied.

You pondered as to what this could have meant but then you remembered how he lived with a woman before in the Underground. Isabel Magnolia must have had a similar experience or two.

“Thanks, Levi. Just give me a few minutes, I’ll be ready to face them then…” you murmured into his neck.

“No need. Ordered them to clean the Mess Hall today.” He explained. You noticed he was not budging and that his eyes had now shut.

“Levi, they’re going to hate you for that!” you cried, sitting up. But once the cramps returned with a terrifying vengeance, your face scrunched up. Levi leaned up and gently pulled you against him again, now opting to run a hand along your lower back, knowing that probably hurt too.

“They can go without training for one day. Besides, the Mess Hall never meets my standards, so they'll be there for a while…” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper as his lips moved to caress yours. A few passionate smooches were passed between the two of you, his hand cradling your head. "How are your cramps?"

"Really bad." Admittedly, the warm water from the shower had helped a small bit as did the intimate and passionate ministrations from your lover but... there was no harm in milking it when he was being so openly affectionate.

"Rest up, then. We can do joint-training tomorrow if it's still bad." He said, nuzzling his nose against your pulse point.

Mission: accomplished... sort of.

You were so grateful how he was able to toss any need for cleaning aside to comfort you and you snuggled even closer. His hand continued to rub your damp head of hair and when you heard his breathing slow, you knew he was probably dozing off.

If the first day of your menses were always going to be experienced like this, with you tightly secure in his muscular arms and exchanging compassionate smooches and cuddling... perhaps your period cramps came with a small blessing.

For something you were so embarrassed about showing him initially, you were so glad you did. Levi was like a whole new person for those few hours in bed, and was always from that day forward whenever the first day of your cycle rolled around. Perhaps less spoon-fed and cuddly - he did have work to get through after all - but he would always make sure you were comfortable.

You had honestly expected the man to be his usual self around you and your time of the month, but in fact, he was surprisingly accommodating. When you started to get crampy and moody, he’d back the hell off and know to keep his mouth shut and not press your buttons any further. If you were getting run down from fighting your cramps and the nausea, he’d order you to take a nap or run you a warm shower and tell you to take as long as you needed.

TL;DR - Levi is an absolute - and unexpected - champ at dealing with periods.

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Ik you've done something like this but can u pls do a smut were me, remus and Sirius are in a relationship and I'm remus's good girl and he's a soft dom with me but he's all strict w Sirius

Good girl and bad puppy

Or

Sirius getting wrecked and you treated like a princess

Enjoy darling <3

Warning: 18+

---

“You do know he loves me more right?” Sirius asked slowly, as if he was talking to a daft toddler.

“Shut up Sirius” you hissed, “I know you‘re doing it on purpose.”

You hid your head behind your book again, desperately trying to block out his annoying face.

“He loves me moreeee” Sirius sang, his voice breaking midway and you snorted.

“Yeah right, especially with that voice.”

Sirius grinned, his tipical eye-crinkling, teeth showing grin. It let you know that he did not mean anything he had said earlier. Both of the boys loved you just as much as you loved them.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you do behave every once in a while though.”

Sirius’ face fell, as if you just said the most ridiculous thing in all those years you’d know each other.

“And why would I do that?” He looked genuinely spooked.

“Because he would be nice to you as well?” you said slowly, this time him being the daft toddler.

His face was horrified as he yelled out with utter disgust in his voice. “That is absolutely outrageous! Why would I want Moony to be nice? Ew! You take your vanilla shit and leave me out of this mess-”

“Alright I get it! Jesus Christ, you need anger management!” You cut him off, angrily turning back to your book.

“Vanilla shit, huh?”

Sirius closed his eyes, silently cursing under his breath. Putting on an exaggerated smile he turned in his chair, hugging Remus around the waist. 

“Moony!” he said, overly cheery, “Oh I’ve missed you! Sit, sit.” Sirius ushered him to sit and gave you a pleading look. Caving, you put your book down.

“Hi Rem” you smiled and he leaned over to kiss you after he kissed Sirius.

“Hi sweetheart, what were you talking about?”

You shrugged, cheeks tinting pink. Fuck, you are a terrible liar.

“Oh um nothing. You know, the usual...” Your voice trailed off and Sirius nodded ethusiastically. 

“Exactly!”

Remus smirked and turned to Sirius, raising a brow. “So you were discussing how vanilla I am?”

Busted.

You immediately responded. “I didn’t say that, Sirius did!”

Sirius gaped at you, mouth opening and closing a few times before he spluttered, “You - You utter bit-”

“Padfoot.” Remus warned, expression turning strict instantly. Remus hated insults out of the bedroom.

Sirius turned to him, a pleading look in his eyes. “Moony, I swear I didn’t mean it like that!”

Remus tilted his head to his right. “How did you mean it Sirius?“

Now it was Sirius‘ turn to blush. „I just said that I like you being“ he cleared his throat and rushed the last part “um- roughwithme.“

Remus smirked at Sirius and nodded to himself.

„Bad puppy.“

Sirius melted.

---

„Moony?“ Sirius stuttered as Remus looked him up and down, a thoughtful look on his face.

„Can‘t decide if I want you to fuck her or if I want to fuck you...“ Remus said with a coy smile.

You bit your lip when you felt your cunt clench at his words, already wet from the way Remus was staring at the both of you. Like he just wanted to wreck you.

„I certainly wouldn‘t mind fucking her“ Sirius smirked, but Remus just hung his head and chuckled.

„I don‘t care if you mind Sirius.“

Whenever Remus said your boyfriends actual name you knew that the scene was starting. It was a warning, if you will.

You pinched his hand to make him shut up and for once he listened.

„What do you say pup?“ Remus looked at you, a gentle smile on his face when you shyly played with your fingers. „Tell Remmy what you want.“

„I want-“ you licked your lips exitedly „I want you to watch us fuck, Remmy.“

Remus‘ smile widened and he nodded his head. „If that‘s what my baby wants...“ He opened his arms and gave you the signal to start, leaning back on the chair to watch you. His two precious subs, both the most gorgeous beings in all of Hogwarts.

Sirius took the reigns and pulled you on his lap, lips eagerly smashing on yours and he kissed you sloppily. Your hands wandered under his shirt and you traced his soft skin with your fingertips, savoring his soft moans and shivers. He flipped you over, craling between your thighs and continued to kiss you soundly, hips grinding on yours. He slowed down, his clothed cock grinding over your bare cunt, slow and teasing.

“Stop showing off and fuck our girl.” Remus said between grittet teeth and Sirius smirked at the dom. Turning back to you he put your hands on the waistband of his boxers.

“Undress me” he drawled.

You tugged his boxers down and his hard cock sprang free, already flushed and leaking. You tried to wrap your legs around him and pull him close, but he blocked your attempts and forced you into a different position.

Your were on your hands and knees with your fae towards Remus when Sirius pushed in with a hard thrust, not even giving you a second to adjust before he pounded into you. You fell forward and let out moans and shrieks when he hit that spot inside of you over and over again. God, it felt so good. The veins of his cock were rubbing at your sensitive walls, his balls slapping your ass. The sight was obscene, being watched by one boyfriend as the other one just watched with a self-satisfied grin. Watching you get fucked like a slut.

Remus made his way over after a particular loud cry from you and took your face in both of his palms, thumbs smoothing over your flushed cheekbones. Your hands instantly clasped on his wrists for some stability.

He chuckled. “Look at my darling girl, getting fucked by our puppy, hm?” Both of you groaned at that, Sirius starting to get aggressive, fingers digging into your hips with one hand on your clit. 

“Ah there!” you gasped, thrusting back against him “Right there Siri please!”

Sirius growled low in his throat. “Oh? There?” He pushed so deep your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. 

“Make my good girl cum, puppy.�� Remus barked out, leaning in to swallow your moans.

“Yes, Sir.” 

Sirius pushed you further down with one hand between your shoulder blades and kept you there, adjusting his hips and oh. Hit punded your spot over and over again, his sweat dripping on your back as he fucked and fucked. 

“Is my beautiful girl gonna cum for her Remmy? Yes?”

You were gone at this point, babbling absolute nonsene as your desperately clawed at the sheets for some stability. 

“Cum, baby.”

You screamed out when your release hit you like a brick wall, your entire world turning white. Legs trembling, fingers shaking and your cunt clenched so tight Sirius was forced to stop moving. So full, you felt full to the brim. 

“Out, puppy.” Remus commanded and Sirius pulled out, sitting back on his knees, cock steadily leaking cum. Fuck, he had been so close. 

“Princess” Remus turned to you “Prepare our boy.”

You grinned and crawled over to the bedside table, pulling out a dildo. Sirius hated lube, the masochistic fucker said he loved the burn of the stretch. Remus sat down and pulled Sirius up until his back was resting against his chest and spread his legs, holding them up for you.

Remus kissed the side og his head and nipped at his ear harshly. “Don’t you dare cum, puppy.”

You pushed the dildo against Sirius lips and he spat on it, taking it in his mouth until it was completely wet. The dildo wasn’t exactly big, only a preperation before Remus fully stretched Sirius with his own cock.

You rubbed the tip against his tight hole and watched as he began to open up. Remus put his hands around his cock and bally, squeezing hard to keep him from cumming. Sirius let out a loud groand whe the tip slipped it, back arching with the delicious pain of the stretch. 

“You fucking slut” Remus mocked “Getting fucked with a fucking dildo like a whore. Thank her for pleasuring you!”

“Thank you!” Sirius cried out when you fucked him in a steady rhythm, the dildo gliding in with difficulty, making it feel oh so better.

You kissed his legs, biting at the flesh of his ass and went faster. You fucked him until his legs trembled and he couldn’t talk, before you ripped the dildo out. He chased you with his hips and begged shamelessly.

“Please no! Please Moony, please! I’m a good boy!”

Sirius was crying, his cock fucking hurt and his prostate throbbed with irritation of being yet again robbed from another orgasm. 

“Come here baby and wet my cock. Wanna fuck my little puppy.”

You took Remus in your mouth, suckling gently and wet him with your spit. He twitched at pulled away, too sensitive from watching you both the entire time without touching himself once. 

“Sit on his face.” Remus told you gently and you quickly straddled Sirius’ pretty face, effectively shutting him up by pressing your cunt on his mouth. Remus spit on Sirius’ hole, a degrading sight but Sirius relished in it, watching Remus push inside his tight clench.

Sirius nails scratched your thighs and he gladly tasted your pussy, his groans going straight to your clit. His tongue was everywhere, in your hole on your clit, sucking and slurping liek a starved animal. You were maoning loudly, your huips grinding on his face with sharp movements, hsi nose catching on your clit and making you cum for the second time. 

“Yes! Yes, lick it all up!” You cried out and gushed all over his mouth and Sirius whined, truly like a puppy, and lapped everything up diligently. You felt another pair of hands on your waist and Remus pulled you back, your tits pressed against Sirius chest and Remus fucked you.

Sirius was crying now, his third time being denied to cum, while you were getting your third in a row. 

“I can’t Remmy!” you shrieked “Please! Too much!”

Sirius and you were holding onto each other as Remus made a mess of you. He knew exactly what he was doing to reduce you to a blubbering mess. Giving Sirius nothing and you too much.

Sirius tugged you down to press a punishing kiss on your lips, angry that Remus treated you so gently and him like a slut. His teeth sunk into you bottom lip and you came again, falling against his chest. Remus growled and pulled out, jerking Sirius off in a fast pace and fucked into him deeply. With one hard thrust he came deep inside of Sirius, and Sirius shouted, voice raw as he finally came for the first time. His cum coated your fronts and Remus fucked his release inside of his tight clench, making it leak out from the sides.

“My precious loves” Remus cooed and kissed your cheeks. “So good f’me. Love you so much, c’mere.” 

Remus laid down in the middle, pulling you both to his chest and stroked your hair softly. You were a sticky mess, dried cum and sweat, but you didn’t care.