Brendon Urie Imagines.

Pray For the wicked

Xx

Y/n's pov;

"Darling, stay under the bed"

"Its not safe for us. P-please can we leave this hell of a city already?" I pleaded, looking up to him from underneath the bed.

He got down on one knee, smirking. He caressed my cheek with his hand, the hard material of his black gloves scratching my cheek ever so slightly.

I bit my lip, gulping down the bile that was building up in my throat. He stared into my eyes, his being like two dark pools of water where I sink in the matter of minutes. Getting lost in the darkness with no way out.

"Oh, its Saturday night" he got back up and pulled down his black coat.

"Yeah, one of the craziest nights!"

"If we die, we die together"

"Love.."

"I've got this"

He dragged the chair from the dining room, sitting down with his back straight. He tilted his head from side to side, holding his cane in front of him.

We're fucking screwed.

I watched him silently, waiting for them to bust down a door, break through our windows, knock holes in our walls. The day everybody dreads. The day where everything isn't functioning.

Medical help, justice can't be served, electricity is cut off and where hell breaks out.

The only reason why we survived all these years is because I've convinced him to leave before it starts.

he's changed over the past couple months. Now he's crazy and thinks he's invincible. Crazy but I love him.

"Be careful, yeah?" I whispered, holding back the tears that dared to slip from my eyes.

"don't worry. I shot the can once"

I sighed, scooting back against the wall.

I held my knees close to my chest, closing my eyes only to hope this will be over in the blink of an eye.

"Pray for the wicked" I whispered, "amen"

"Mama can I get another amen?" He said a bit to giggly for my liking.

we both gasped at the gun shots from down the street. People were screaming not only in pain but for help that they weren't going to get.

we've never experienced anything since we've been absent in these days but today is the day we first experience it and maybe our last. We always watch youtube videos over it but that's as real as it ever got.

It got quiet until someone threw a brick at the windows, shattering them into little pieces. They threw in a can that let gas out, not sure what kind but I bet it was deadly.

I covered my mouth and nose, holding in my breath. Brendon just sat there, with no movement whatsoever.

I wanted to check on him until someone jumped through the window, landing on their knees.

Three people stood there in front of Brendon. He still sat there.

"So you've been waiting" she spoke, chuckling.

I heard Brendon lit a cigar, taking a hit.

He held the cigar in between his fingers, looking up at the three.

"Could've knocked or used the door. I could've offered coffee or a beer but you've disrespected me"

What the hell is he doing?

"aw, did I hurt the old Fags feelings?" the same girl mocked, laughing.

"maybe, but feelings aren't the only thing that's going to be hurt tonight"

He got up and slammed the chair on her head. He got his cane and hit the guy beside her on the neck. He tripped the other girl beside her and stomped on her stomach.

"Wow, you weren't kidding" I laughed, getting out from underneath the bed.

"Drink?" He smirked, walking to the kitchen.

"what if someone comes?" I asked, twiddling my thumbs.

"Then we kick their ass" he took out the gun from behind the portrait of a french bulldog wearing glasses and tossed me the bat.

I nodded and watched him get two glasses and poured champagne, filling them half way.

"Saturday night" he held his glass  towards me.

"Saturday night" I clinked my glass with his, holding the bat  over my shoulder.

Xx

Short but sweet.

Pray for the wicked out june 22nd!