#It's full of hot babes including some you MIGHT RECOGNIZE B^)

[solice]

Really getting hyped for Sorry We're Closed to come out

[dirty-urie]

Date Night

Third Person

Brendon x Sara (OC kinda)

College AU

PWP Oneshot

NC-17

5.4k Words

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story using the names and/or likeness of at least one real person. This is intended for entertainment purposes ONLY. Please do not share or bring up my work with anyone other than fellow fans. Any similarity to real-life events involving these characters that have not been shared with the general public is only coincidence. Just because I’ve included something in my fics does NOT mean I condone, support, or encourage that behavior, language, or action in real life. Please practice safe and consensual sex practices, and just be a good person.

Warnings in Order of Appearance: Real Person Fic, Crude and Vulgar Language Throughout, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Joke About Forgoing Contraception, Talk and Consumption of Pornography, Unprotected Oral Sex, Female Receiving Oral, Intercourse, Male Receiving Oral, Female Masturbation, Use of a Non-Sex Toy as a Sex Toy, Minor Social Anxiety

Author's Notes:

1. I spelled Sarah's name wrong on purpose because I felt bad writing porn about her. Brendon's technically permitted to write about him, so I'll do that without guilt (okay, with some guilt, but I feel guilty about everything. I have anxiety), but I respect Sarah too much to do that to her. That being said, I didn't want to use a random name, so I decided on a middle ground. Here's Sara, who is both not a real person and also not not married to Brendon Urie in real life. Schrodinger's OC. Okay, thank you for putting up with me.

2. I don’t know if I’m going to write any more third-person fics. I know they’re not really that popular, but for some reason, this spoke to me in third, so I embraced that. Anyway, give it a chance, and if you don’t like it, give whatever I publish next a chance.

3. This used to be split into two parts because I uploaded it on mobile, but I have since condensed the two parts, and now the whole thing is on this post.

Brendon fumbles with his keys as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Sara won't be there for another little while, but he's anxious to get inside anyway. His roommate is away visiting his family for the first time in nearly two months, and he hasn’t gotten any real alone time with his girlfriend since then. It’s hard, and Brendon knows Sara’s been struggling too because she spent their whole coffee shop study-date the day before whispering to him about how she's been practically crawling out of her skin. Brendon shivers at the memory of her hot breath against his ear as he slams his front door shut and hurries to his bedroom.

He's thinking about all the nasty ways he wants to get back at her for getting him so worked up in public when, speak of the devil, his phone buzzes, and Sara's name pops up in the caller ID. Actually, "Brunette from Creative Writing" pops up, but he swears he'll change it one day. Sara jokes that they'll be married with a whole flock of adult children, and she'll be calling him from the bingo hall as "Brunette from Creative Writing." God, he fucking loves her.

"Hey, babe, I just got home," he says after he hits the answer button.

"Okay, I just got out of my lecture, but I'm stopping by my dorm to grab my duffel bag, then I'm going to the drugstore to get condoms that aren't the shitty university clinic ones, so I won't be there for almost another hour," she tells him.

"Noooo, just come straight here. You can just wear my clothes all weekend. And condoms are so unnecessary; I'll just pull out," Brendon whines.

Sara laughs into the phone, knowing he doesn't mean any of that. "Oh sure, in that case, I'll come right over. Did you want to pay me $400,000 to raise a child in cash or check?"

"Uh, check, but you're gonna have to wait a bit to cash it," he replies.

He can practically see her rolling her eyes, even through the phone, "I'll be there in an hour, but I'll bring you something fun from the drugstore," she says.

"Fun like sex fun or fun like gum from the checkout stand fun?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, love you, bye!" she tells him through the phone before hanging up.

"Love you too, babe," he says sarcastically to no one. He walks into his bedroom and makes sure it's spotless. He doesn't want anything whatsoever to get in the way of fun, sexy times once Sara gets here.

His apartment is clean; he has wine and groceries in the fridge, enough money saved up to rent a movie and order dinner later, and no homework, so once Sara shows up with the condoms, he’ll be good to spend the entire weekend at home with her. With nothing else to do, he climbs onto his bed and grabs his laptop. No harm in a little pre-gaming, he figures, pulling up his favorite porn website while he waits.

He clicks on the first video without too much thought. It’s a girl, one Brendon recognizes, wearing a tiny thong and nothing else, and playing with a small bullet vibe while her boyfriend watches. She’s wet, probably just with lube and not actual bodily fluid, he realizes, but at least they bothered to make her look physically aroused at all.

He gets invested in the video, in the new toys that the boyfriend hands her, in the way both of their arousal grows as time goes on. He gets so engrossed that he’s beyond startled when Sara interrupts with, “Starting without me?” eyeing the erection already straining through his jeans.

Brendon laughs with glee now that she’s finally here, “No, no, no, just passing the time while I wait for you. No touching yet, see," he says, holding up his hands and waving them around before pausing his video.

"Well, don't stop on my account," Sara scoffs. "I don't mind you starting without me as long as I'm there when you finish," she murmurs.

They both moan, Brendon in response to her words, Sara in response seeing Brendon's cock twitch in his pants, “Ah fuck, babe, that’ll be sooner than I’d like if you keep talking like that.”

Sara climbs in next to him and snuggles against him so that she can see his computer screen, “Ooo, she’s hot,” she says, pointing to the girl now getting eaten out by the guy who, coincidentally enough, doesn’t look dissimilar to B.

“Yeah, I like a lot of her work,” Brendon says back, disinterested in the video playing on the laptop now that Sara’s actually there in the flesh “hey, you should take your pants off,” he suggests, totally smooth and subtly.

“You’re such a guy, B. No ‘how was your day? Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?” she teases.

Under normal circumstances, Brendon would object to such slander on his impeccable moral character. But, well, there’s not a lot of blood in his brain right now, and he knows that she would just respond with more teasing, further delaying the Fun Sexy Times, so he rolls to his side and kisses behind her ear, pressing his cock against her leg in an attempt to tease her into pliability. It works; she melts, whimpering a little bit as heat pools deep in her stomach when she feels just how turned on Brendon is. “You feel so nice, B. Bet you’d feel nicer without this layer of denim between us. Can you help me?”

Brendon unbuttons her pants and moves down to slide them off her body, moving his mouth along the newly revealed skin as he works them off. He’s paying so much attention to the warm flush of her thighs that he almost misses her panties: dark red lace, even darker where she’s soaked through them, and so delicate that they’re nearly see-through.

“Oh fuck, babe, that’s gorgeous. Are you wearing a matching bra?” he asks.

She answers by sitting up and pulling off her t-shirt, revealing the same thin lace. Her nipples are hard, practically poking through the delicate material.

Brendon settles back on his heels to fully take his girlfriend in, now stripped down to just her matching bra and panties set.

Sarah grins down at him, “Why do I get the sense that I can expect this set in every color for my birthday? Although, I know for a fact that I can get the same reaction from you wearing full-coverage high-waisted granny panties,” she thinks aloud after seeing Brendon’s wide-eyed awe.

Brendon isn’t paying attention, though. His mindset shifted from the fun and playful sex they usually have to lust-fueled passion as soon as Sara took her shirt off. Don’t get him wrong, they have great sex, but they normally have to do it fast and quietly and spontaneously, so they’ve gotten good at not taking themselves too seriously, at laughing at Brendon’s old superhero boxers, and then getting to business. Now that he has the chance to really take his time to appreciate, no, worship her as she deserves, he wants to do it right.

He moves off his heels and crawls over her body, supporting himself with one muscled arm as he moves in to kiss her. She picks up on the change in mood immediately, grasping the back of his head to deepen the kiss. He’s throbbing against her thigh now, even through his jeans, and she’s worried that she might come just from feeling him.

She, too, loves their normal sex, but even though it’s fun, it can’t always be as intimate as either of them would like. And it’s a shame too because as good at Brendon is at fucking, banging, screwing, whatever, he’s damn good at making love. At making sure she’s safe and supported and in absolute bliss, even when they’re hooking up in someone’s bedroom at a party, but especially like this when they’ve got hours and total privacy.

When her moans increase in pitch and frequency, Brendon crawls back down on the bed and settles between her thighs. “Darling, these panties are a gift to humanity, but I’m afraid they’re going to get in the way of some things I have planned. You don’t mind if I take them off, do you?” he says, voice deep and gravelly. He mouths against the soaked fabric while he waits for her response.

After taking a moment to collect herself and catch her breath, “God, Brendon, please, I need your mouth, fingers, cock, something,” she whines.

Now that he has her permission, he moves his mouth from her core to the waistband against her hip and bites it, just letting his teeth scrape her skin as he pulls down. Whether intentionally or not, Sara arches her back up, making it easy to slide them all the way down her legs. He kisses her way back up her legs, but instead of stopping between her thighs, he keeps going up. He licks up across the flat planes of her stomach all the way until he reaches her bra. Just like with her panties, he mouths over the fabric first, inching up slowly before sucking on one of her nipples through the lace.

As much as he loves how her breathing gets faster and heavier just from that, he can’t resist the actual mouth-on-skin that the low cut of the bra allows. He sucks a pink mark on each breast and then moves to lick and suckle gently on her neck. They’ve both agreed that they’re not middle schoolers and visible hickeys are beyond tacky, but they both go so wild from neck stimulation that it can be hard to resist spending a few minutes sucking a licking at the rapidly-beating pulse points.

As much as Brendon wants to keep teasing, Sara’s squirming like crazy, and he’s worried that if he kept going in the same way, she’d come before he got to touch her for real. He finally settles between her thighs for real this time, kissing and sucking gently on her vulva for just a second or two. Sara is quivering by the time he moves down to suck on her clit. As soon as he finally makes contact with the sensitive hood, she screams out in ecstasy, taking full advantage of Brendon’s roommate’s absence. He sucks around her clit just like her nipple, a few short staccato bursts followed by long, drawn-out pulls. He moves his tongue gently the whole time to stimulate her further.

Both of her hands are tangled in his hair, tugging hard when he moves from sucking on her clit to licking across her entrance. He licks across the opening in broad strokes before his tongue enters her, rubbing her clit with his thumb the whole time. He waits until her thighs are clenched tight around his head, and she’s bucking up against his mouth before he slips two fingers inside to rub over her g-spot.

“B, stop, I’m gonna fucking come!” She shrieks.

He lifts his head without slowing his fingers, “You don’t wanna come?”

“Want you to be inside me when I do. Inside me for real, not just fingers,” Sara pants, trying hard to distract herself from her building arousal.

As much as Brendon’s disappointed that Sara won’t come on his face, after all, he’s been hard for over an hour now, and he would love to get out of his restrictive jeans and get a little more stimulation than rubbing himself against the bed.

He crawls out of bed and peels his shirt off. Now it’s Sarah’s turn to marvel at her lover. His cheeks and chest are flushed a deep pink from the exertion and arousal, his face is shiny with spit and her juices, and his cock is tenting the material of his pants.

Sara strokes over herself lazily, it’s not nearly as good as Brendon, but it’s something to take the edge off while she watches Brendon unbuckle his belt to strip his pants off. He’s moving slowly on purpose. He always did love to put on a show.

Once he’s down to his black boxer-briefs, he asks Sara where she put the condoms when she came in.

“B, I love that you’re so distracted by me, but the bag is right next to you on the nightstand,” she answers.

“Hey, I’m not wearing my glasses. That’s not fair,” Brendon replies softly. He turns and opens the plastic bag with the drugstore logo on the front. Sara laughs when his eyes visibly widen. “Should I be scared?” He asks, holding up a large vibrating dildo.

Sara laughs. “No, love, I just wanted to get some toys I could leave at your place,” she answers as he pulls out a bullet vibe, two different types of lube, a cock ring, massage oils, whipped cream, a multi-pack of condoms, and yes, gum from the checkout stand.

“...I may have gotten a little carried away in the sexual wellness aisle,” she admits.

Brendon’s eyes are still the size of saucers, “God, no kidding, babe, this is all incredible,” he says, stripping off his boxers and opening the box of condoms to tear a packet open with his teeth. It’s a bad habit, and usually, Sara would scold him, but she’s so worked up that she spreads her legs in anticipation anyway. Her mouth goes dry while he strokes himself with lube before he rolls the condom on.

He finally, finally, finally settles over her. “Is this position okay?” he asks.

“It’s perfect, baby; I love getting to see your face when you push into me,” she answers, whining as he drags his cock across her opening.

That’s good enough for Brendon. He rocks forward into her slowly, partly because he’s a tease but partly because he wants this to last as long as possible. After pushing in deep to rub back and forth across her g-spot, he starts thrusting in earnest, relishing her moans and pants.

“Oh B, you feel so good,” she cries out.

“You feel even better, love. Squeezing so nicely around me. So tight and wet,” he says.

Sara scratches down his back in sheer bliss. Brendon’s rhythm is steady, but he’s moving just slowly enough that they can both relish every thrust without feeling overly needy or impatient. She pushes her thighs together to feel him even better inside her.

His thrusts falter for a second, and he chokes out a gasp. “Love you, love feeling you,” he groans, “but it’s been nearly a month since we last had sex, babygirl. If you keep that up, I am going to come.”

She relaxes her thighs just a little bit. “God, I love how sensitive you are right now, babe, responding to my every touch so much. I love you collected and composed too, but it’s such a treat having you so weak for me,” she marvels, stroking the back of his neck.

A shiver goes down his whole spine, and he devotes all of his energy to not coming. “I haven’t touched myself since we last had sex,” he admits, “I figured if my sweet girl couldn’t get off, I couldn’t either. It’s been such a challenge, but fuck, it was worth it. I’m so on edge for you.”

She tightens around him, moving her hand to touch her clit. “Shit, Brendon, that’s so fucking hot. I’m just thinking about you late at night, hard and aching thinking about me, but controlling yourself so it could be all the better when we finally reunited. Did you ever cheat? Did you ever jack yourself but force yourself to pull away right before you came to roll over and go to sleep? God, I bet you had so many dirty dreams. Bet you woke up humping a pillow because your body needed to get off so bad. Bet you’d struggle to hide your hard-on in public when your mind wandered even just a little. Such a dirty needy boy, but so so good for me, aren’t you?” she pants out, squeezing tighter as she talks.

He laughs, “You know me so well, sweetheart, all of the above is true. My roommate was thrilled to have all the hot water for himself this month because… I took a lot of cold showers. I’ll leave it at that. Now, if you don’t mind, I believe you’ve taken my job,” he says, replacing her hand on her clit with his own.

Sara falls back and goes rigid, crying out. He circles his thumb faster as the pace of his thrusts picks up. “I’m gonna come!” She shouts.

“Do it, come on me,” Brendon whispers.

Sara contracts around him, shrieking and convulsing as she comes on him before melting back onto the bed.

Brendon leans down to nip at her shoulder and then kiss her lips. “Good, baby?”

She nods, eyes closed and still panting hard.

“I’ll give you a second,” he murmurs, mostly to himself before pulling out and collapsing down next to her. He strokes over himself while he waits for her to come back down to earth, still rock hard.

“Shit, B, you still haven’t come,” she finally realizes, “do you want me to blow you?”

His cock twitches at the thought.

“Or I could ride you? Let you watch my tits bounce as I fuck you?” She suggests.

“That one wanna be back in that perfect cunt.”

Sara moves to straddle him, rubbing her clit against his tummy and kissing him before moving back to settle on him for real. She lets him thrust up into her a couple of times before moving herself, relishing the way his muscles tense under his flushed skin.

Brendon loves being ridden. He wouldn’t say it’s his favorite position, but it’s up there. It’s even better when Sara takes her bra off, as pretty as it is, and he gets to see her entire naked body. She gets herself at the perfect angle and rides him as hard as she can.

“I’m really not going to last long,” he warns.

Sara tangles her hands back in his hair just like he loves. She’s pulling out all the stops to get him to come. “God, B, me neither, I didn’t think I had it in me, but I’m right back on the edge. Just rub my clit, and I’ll come.”

He moves his hands from her ass to touch her clit.

She shudders, “B, I’m gonna come!”

“Me too,” he grunts out, “do you want me to pull out?”

“No, wanna feel your hot come inside me, even with the condom,” she answers before coming again. Even harder this time as waves of pleasure roll through her entire body.

The rapid contractions around his cock trigger his own orgasm, and his entire head goes blank as he gets lost in the sensation. Sara collapses and situates herself in his arms just as they’re both starting to come down.

He moves, but she stops him. “Honey, I’ve gotta,” he starts, but she whines and shakes her head, knowing exactly where he’s going, “I’ve gotta pull out so we can clean up and eat dinner. Round two after Italian?”

She finally nods but wraps her legs tighter against him anyway, “just two more minutes. Then we can go be romantic.”

***

“Sara, sweetheart, food’s almost here,” he whispers thirty minutes later. He’s wearing pajama pants with no shirt, and his torso’s still wet from the shower he took to rinse off. “Do you wanna go get yourself cleaned up while I set up the coffee table to eat?” He asks.

Sara shakes her head, “I get clingy and needy after sex-”

Brendon cracks a grin because he knows this, of course.

“So you’re stuck with me for the next couple of hours,” she finishes.

“Mm, that’s fine with me, babe. I just want you to be comfortable,” he responds, kissing her forehead.

She moves up into the kiss and realizes that a shower might be nice after all, “Actually, I am a little sticky. Come into the bathroom with me?”

“Anything you want, love,” he says, scooping her up and carrying her to the shower.

He turns the water on for her and then goes to sit on the counter while she rubs off the sweat under the spray. “B?” She calls.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but when you rubbed my clit in little circles, I nearly died on the spot. Normally when I’m alone, I just stroke back and forth, but god, it felt so good to feel something new,” she says. Brendon doesn’t respond immediately. “B?” She calls back timidly, shy now. “B?”

She’s getting worried that he left without her hearing, so she pulls back the shower curtain and has to choke back a moan. Brendon’s still sitting on the counter, his head tipped back on the mirror, palming over himself through his PJ pants.

“God, Sara, sorry, I just love hearing how I make you feel, and I couldn’t help it,” he tells her.

Sara shuts the water off and walks across the bathroom to Brendon, paying no mind to how she’s dripping all over the tile. She yanks him up to his feet and drops to her knees on the padded bathmat in front of the sink. She pulls his pants down just enough- no underwear, she observes without surprise- and takes him in her mouth, getting him slick enough that she can stroke him to total hardness with her hand. Once he’s fully hard, she takes him back in her mouth and sucks hard, making his knees tremble. She bobs her head up and down, stroking him with her hand when she doesn’t have his whole length in her mouth.

He’s bracing himself against the counter to stay upright and not buck into her mouth. She moves down to just stimulate the tip while quickly stroking over the rest of him.

“Can you come for me? Food is going to be here any minute,” she says, looking up at him with big eyes.

“You playing with yourself down there, baby? Getting all wet from sucking me off?” He asks, the dirty talk getting him closer to the edge.

“Oh, you know it, gets me so hot, making you feel good. I wish I had one of my new toys, though,” she pouts before licking his dick again.

Brendon gropes behind himself blindly, trying to find… well. It’s not a vibrator, but it does, well, vibrate, he thinks, hitting the button on his electric toothbrush. He hands it to Sara, who puts it between her legs without hesitation, pressing it against her clit.

She goes weak, moaning a buzzy hum over his cock while she sucks. She knows he’s close by the way his balls are drawing into his body, so she goes ahead and lets herself go. Tightening the pressure around his cock.

“Shit, babe, I’m gonna come,” he warns, hips bucking. “Can I come in your mouth or…?”

She holds up a thumbs up, and he comes, most of it staying in her mouth, but some ends up dripping down her chin. She swallows, and Brendon hands her a wad of toilet paper to wipe off the rest with.

He tucks himself back into his pants and then helps her back to her feet.

“Can I have my toothbrush back, love?” He requests softly.

Sara blushes and takes the still-vibrating toothbrush out from between her legs, “Sorry, I forgot I still had that.”

“No worries,” he responds with a soft chuckle, kissing her forehead. He takes the toothbrush and turns it off before rinsing it off under the sink. “Gosh, you did a number on this thing. It’s soaked,” he marvels, “My perfect messy girl.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “Perfect timing, must be the food. I’ll deal with that while you get dressed?” He suggests, and she nods, still a little dazed from the orgasm. Well, orgasms, plural.

She goes back to his room, where she stashed her bag and rummages through it for her pink silk slip nightgown. It’s super simple, just spaghetti straps with a straight-across neckline and then deep pink fabric straight down to just below her ass, but Brendon loves it. She suspects it’s just because she can’t move very much without flashing her butt, but he insists that the slip itself is gorgeous.

As she’s getting dressed, she hears the door open and Brendon apologizing for his relative state of undress, saying he just got out of the shower. Brendon’s naked more often than he’s clothed, so Sara just shrugs it off until she hears a giggle and flirting coming from the delivery girl.

Brendon stammers out that he has a girlfriend, but he’s flattered, but that doesn’t seem to be deterring the delivery girl, who makes an extra point to linger her hand on Brendon’s as she hands him the food. Sara strides out of his bedroom, “Hey, B, have you seen my panties? I can’t find them in your bed or your bathroom or the kitchen or the sofa, so I wonder if I left them in your pocket during our multiple rounds of lovemaking,” She calls before pretending to spot him and the girl for the first time by the door. She scootches in next to him and kisses him on the cheek, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on her face. “My apologies, didn’t know you had a guest,” she lies, shooting death beams at the delivery girl whose hand is on Brendon’s bicep. The girl retracts her hand, and Sara grabs a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet on the doorside table to tip her. Sara knows Brendon would’ve already tipped her on the website, but this more of a ‘please don’t touch my boyfriend without his consent tip’ than a ‘thank you for your work tip.’ “Have a nice day, ma’am,” Sara tells her, shutting the door.

Brendon smirks, but there’s a weariness behind it, “Way to save the day, baby. Getting possessive?”

“No, I love it when others check you out. Just validates how hot I am for you. You just sounded like you do when you get overwhelmed at the grocery store, and I figured you were feeling a little claustrophobic,” she explains.

Brendon nods. “I don’t mind a flirt, but she was getting way too handsy. And even then, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world; I just felt a little vulnerable being shirtless and all. She probably just wanted a big tip. I bet that works for her a lot. And y’know, I probably shouldn’t have been shirtless at all. If I was in a restaurant, they’d have every right to kick me out, so really, I’m lucky she didn’t blacklist my address,” he rambles, turning to get plates and silverware from the kitchen.

Sara touches his shoulder and grabs the bags of food from him. “Hey, B, you don’t need to justify your feelings, okay? I get it; she was in your space. Both your personal space by touching you and your physical area by being near your home. But it’s sweet of you to give her the benefit of the doubt. You’re probably right, I would guess that works with nine out of ten guys; she was cute. And hey, I gave her a nice tip to get her to go away, so it worked on us too.”

“And you got to brag to a stranger about our hot sex life, so it really did all work out in the end,” Brendon half-jokes, and she’s happy to observe that any panic seems to have left his body.

“Mhm, my favorite hobby. Maybe we should order dessert, and I can change into something even more slutty. This shows my ass so nicely, but my chest is totally covered,” she suggests, and he cracks a real smile for her. “Seriously though, you’re totally good?”

“Yes, ma’am, everything’s perfect,” he responds, and he’s telling the truth.

“Good, let me set up dinner then. You go relax on the sofa,” she orders.

Brendon goes to sit on the couch, knowing better than to deny a direct request. Sara plates the food and brings it to the now dim living room, where Brendon’s lit three candles in the center of the table.

“Awww, how romantic,” she praises, settling against Brendon with their food.

“I had more romance planned, I promise, I just weighed my options, and I cared more about snuggling with my girl than trying to overdo it on decorating the living room,” Brendon responds. “I do still have wine in the fridge if you want that?”

She twists around to kiss him. “The romance level is perfect. Consider me totally romanced. I think I’ll wait on the wine until later if that’s okay? It’ll make me sleepy, and I’m still interested in a round two,” she says, resting her hand against Brendon’s thigh.

“Whatever you want is fine with me, love,” he says, sighing contentedly.

***

“You’re falling asleep, babygirl.”

“Am not.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

Brendon smiles, “Do you wanna keep watching the movie, or do you wanna go to bed? If you’re sleepy, that’s fine, but we’ve gotta move to the bedroom then,” he murmurs.

Sara moves off the couch and stretches, turning on the light. “I’m not even tired; I took a nap earlier. It’s just the dim lighting and carb surplus. C’mon, let’s keep watching, it’s only 10 and we’re not even to the, ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ scene.”

“Okay, if you insist, then we’ll soldier on. I’ll get dessert,” he agrees, getting up to head to the kitchen.

“Ooo what’s for dessert?” she asks.

“Cannoli and coffee,” he responds.

Sara moans playfully. “God, Brendon, I’m so turned on right now.”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “I’ll try not to take offense that you’re more attracted to sweets than me.”

Sara wraps her arms around his waist from behind him. “I’d choose you over cannoli any day. Someone could offer me a thousand cannoli and I’d scoff in their face and then go kiss all over you. I love you, babe. Thank you for a great date night,” she says before spinning him around to kiss him.

“I love you too,” Brendon whispers against her lips. “Tonight was wonderful, and I owe it all to you.”

[princeandreis]

neighbors

I had this pretty spontaneous inspiration for a fluff thing where ev meets the reader in an au where he and heidi move away after the events in the musical

  A/N: hhhh um yea b l e a s e no judgement on this, I started and finished it at 1:30 in the morning

word count: idk but it’s l o o o n g because I CANT SEEM TO WRITE ANYTHING SJORTER THAN 1000 WORDS I (edit: 3315 holy sh) includes: angst, swearing probably, slow burn, Evan is probably really ooc I don’t even know pairing: Evan Hansen x reader

  ~~~~~~~~

  Moving to a new city was always stressful. Evan knew the feeling well. The lump in your throat as you said goodbye to your home, the clutter and discomfort in the new house, the unfamiliar streets; he’d seen it all before. He and Heidi had had to move several times when her job could not support them.

    He’d hoped they would be able to stay in one place now, since his mom had a steady job at a doctor’s office. But now they were moving once again, and this time it was his fault. He’d royally screwed things up with the only friends he’d ever known, and now Heidi thought it was best they both move on. Evan had left on good enough terms with Jared, but he wasn’t naive enough to hope to carry on like nothing had ever happened.

  So here he was, in a brand new city, hundreds of miles away from the place he’d come to consider his home. This town was a place full of opportunity. There was a nice community college he was interested in, and he’d find a job soon enough. He knew that here he could make a new start.

  And he was absolutely miserable.

  Evan missed his friends, even though he realized things wouldn’t have been the same after the Connor Project.

  He sighed, looking around at his new room. So far it was bare. The walls were a light yellow, which he liked. A little light peaked through the blinds in the fading evening sun. He hefted the box he was holding, set it down in the corner, and went downstairs to get another.

  ~~~~~~~~

  You heard the sounds of shuffling boxes outside and ran to your window to see. So the new neighbors were finally moving in. You watched the movers gradually unload the U-Haul truck for awhile, and finally they drove away. A woman in scrubs and a boy about your age were hauling boxes into their new home. You wondered vaguely what the boy was like, and if you would ever be friends.

  Whatever. It didn’t matter. People were all the same, anyway. Just as you were turning away from the window, your mother called from downstairs, “[Y/N]?”

  “Yes?” you yelled back. “Would you take these cookies next door and see if they need any help?” You rolled your eyes. “Why don’t you do it?”

  “Sweetie, I’m working right n– oh, would you just come downstairs?” she called again. You sighed and clomped into the living room, where your mother was sitting on the couch, typing on her laptop. She looked over at you. “Babe, like I said, I have to work, or I would definitely go over there myself. But my boss is going to kill me if I miss my deadline again.” Your mom was an online columnist for the local paper.

  “Would it really be so hard?” she asked, trying to hold your gaze. “All you have to do is bring the cookies over, ring the doorbell, and introduce yourself and offer to help them move in.” You twisted your silver bracelet, a parting gift from your dad. “Mom, this might sound surprising to you, but that’s more than some people can handle.” She leaned over to brush the hair out of your eyes. “Sweetie, I know things have been rough lately. And I’ve tried to give you some time to recover. But at some point, you’ll have to get back out into the world and try to live again. I know it feels like nothing will ever be the same without Dad. I feel that way, too. But we have to keep trying to live our lives, even when somebody we love leaves us.”

  Your eyes watered, and you quickly turned away to make it stop. You didn’t like thinking about Dad. Dad, with his prickly brown beard and his eyes full of laughter. Dad, with his big deep voice and his compassion. Dad, with his strong arms holding you tight. Until he was too weak to lift them, smiling tiredly at you from the hospital bed. And his eyes, once so alive and full of wit, now slowly closing one last time…

  You scrubbed at your eyes and wiped your nose hurriedly. Mom couldn’t see you crying. She’d worry even more if she knew how strongly your Dad’s death had affected you. It had been long enough, but it seemed like nothing without him would ever be right. Your world had gone completely dark after losing him, and you couldn’t imagine recovering from such a heavy blow.

  You snuffled and turned back around, sure your eyes were red. If she wanted you to socialize, then so be it. “Where are the cookies?”

  ~~~~~~~~

  Evan was setting down a box marked “Kitchen supplies” when the doorbell rang. He froze. “Mom?” he called. “What?” came a muffled response from Heidi. He tiptoed into her room, where she was busy sorting clothing into piles. “There’s– there’s someone at the door.” he whispered, feeling petrified. The doorbell rang again. Whoever was there was getting tired of waiting.

  Heidi looked at her son. “Sweetie, you’re going to have to step out of your comfort zone a little bit and get to know some people. Meeting your neighbors is always a good start. Now, shoo!” And with that, she gave him a little shove toward the front door.

  Evan stumbled over and opened it. He stopped cold when he saw who was there. A girl, holding a plate of cookies. A very, very pretty girl. He felt his face grow hot as she snapped her gum and half-glared at him. “Hi, I’m Eban. I meap, mean, Evan. Evan.” He mumbled, flustered. He’d fallen in love once and he knew what it felt like. Now it was happening again.

  She rolled her eyes a little and held out the plate of cookies. “These are for you and your mom,” she said. “My mom baked them and made me take them over here. She thinks I need to learn to ‘socialize.’” Evan shifted a little, taking the plate of cookies nervously. Who was this girl?

  “My mom thinks that about me,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  “[Y/N]. [Y/L/N].”

  “[Y/N].” Evan repeated. “Nice name.” “Thanks, I made it myself,” she replied sarcastically. There was a small pause as he tried to figure out how to respond. “I’ll see you around, Evan. Enjoy the cookies.” And with that, his neighbor stalked off across the lawn, narrowly missing Heidi’s unplanted peonies.

  What a character, Evan thought to himself. And he turned and went back inside. In spite of himself, he blushed. She really was pretty, even if she had a terrible attitude.

  The next morning, Saturday, Evan was shaken awake by his mother. He had a job interview, since Heidi needed him to help support the two of them, at least for a little while. “Evan,” Heidi said urgently. “You’re late for your interview.”

  Evan shot out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered, looking for some clean pants. His mother said, “I’ll make you some coffee you can grab on your way out. Hurry!” and she rushed downstairs as Evan slipped on some jeans and mismatched socks.

  5 minutes later he was out the door, coffee in hand, hustling toward his car parked on the curb, when he slammed straight into someone. It was you. You’d been taking out the garbage in your pajama shorts and tank top when Evan, in his hurry to leave, didn’t see you and collided with you. “[Y/N],” he gasped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you, I just, I’m late for an interv- interview, and I j–” He stopped. You were already walking away.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Why had you walked away from Evan? It had been two days and you still weren’t really sure. Maybe it was because you were in your pajamas and looked awful. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been expecting to see him. Or maybe it was because you were entirely caught off-guard by his eyes. His enormous eyes… they were so blue and innocent. You could fall into those eyes if you didn’t watch your step.

  His eyes had flooded into you, making you wonder again what type of person he was, and if he would ever reach out to be friends. You didn’t like the intimate level of eye contact, since it made memories resurface. You didn’t like to remember. You didn’t like to feel. And somehow, in an instant, an accidental collision, he’d made you do just that.

  Somewhere inside you regretted being so rude to Evan, but you had to protect yourself. Any time you let others in or cared about someone, you got hurt. The person you’d loved most in the world was your dad, and look what had happened to him.

  Your dad would have loved Evan. He was extremely perceptive. He’d probably have your neighbor all figured out by now. You knew Evan was quiet and shy, and your dad had been that way, too. They probably would have had so much to talk about, everything from politics to trees to peanut butter and everything in between.

  You shook yourself. Why are you thinking about Dad? you scolded yourself. It doesn’t do you any good. So stop it.

  Evan was a safe subject to think about, more or less. You were curious about his mom and what his house looked like and if he had a cat and suddenly, you were seized with a desire to know everything about him. You couldn’t trust him (or anyone), but there was no harm in learning about him. Right?

  You meandered over to your bedroom window. It was Monday morning, two days after the trash incident. How did Evan feel? He probably hated you. Peeking cautiously through your blinds, you saw him. He was watering a few small potted plants on his windowsill, and his mouth was moving. Was he singing? Struck with an overpowering curiosity, you moved to open your window just a crack to listen.

  He was singing. His voice was a little reedy and so soft you could barely hear, but full of sweetness. It was a folk song you vaguely recognized, but you couldn’t put your finger on the title.

  “Through the forest down to your grave, where the birds wait and the tall grasses wave. They do not know you anymore…”

  Evan paused, looking up, and saw that you had been watching him. “Nice voice,” you called. “Color me impressed.” He turned beet-red and wiped his hands hurriedly on his jeans. “Thank y- thank you, [Y/N],” he stammered. “How long were you watching me?”

  “Not long,” you lied. There was an awkward pause as Evan shifted and set down his watering can. “So…”

  “So…” You swung your legs out and sat on the windowsill. “What song were you singing? It sounded really familiar.” Still flushed, Evan kneeled in front of his window to talk. “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song.”

  Now you remembered. “Oh, that’s Fleet Foxes, right?” He nodded and bit his lip. “Do you like their music?” You admitted not listening to them in a few years. Evan looked up and smiled shyly. “You should definitely try it out again. Their first album is their best one.”

  “Alright, I will,” you promised. “It’ll change your life.” “Oh, yeah?” “Yeah.”

  Another pause.

  A bird chattered from a tree nearby.

  “At least, I think so. I mean, um, I mean, if you don’t like th–” “Do you want to just come over?” you interrupted. “Talking like this is weird.”

  Evan looked surprised but tried to cover it up. “Uh, yeah, o-okay, sure, that sounds good. Totally.” “Okay.” You stood up. “Come over in five minutes.” And you shut your window.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Was this real? Was Evan really about to visit [Y/N] and… hang out? He really couldn’t believe his luck. Already his hands were sweating like fuck, and he hadn’t even left the house. He pawed through a box of his CDs, looking for “Fleet Foxes.” There it was, among some Broadway soundtracks (“Legally Blonde” and “Les Misérables,” to name a few) and a John Mayer album. He really needed to unpack soon.

  Evan headed downstairs, CD in hand, wondering if he should bring something over. Coffee? Everyone liked coffee. Right? “Mom?” he called out.

  No answer. Of course. She was at work. It would be dumb to bother her with that kind of question, anyway. So he quickly fixed up two thermoses of hot English Breakfast coffee and headed out, locking the door behind him.

  Shaking, Evan shuffled up the sidewalk to [Y/N]’s house and rang the doorbell. After about a minute, she opened the door. Goodness, she was beautiful. “Hi,” he said timidly. “Hi.”

  She left the door open and turned back into her house and went to the kitchen. Evan followed. She was busy rummaging through the pantry for something, seemingly ignoring him. “I brought some coffee,” he offered. When this merited no response, he added, “English Breakfast…”

  “How did you know?” she demanded. “Know wh -at?”

  She softened a little at how scared he looked. “That’s my favorite kind of coffee.” (Oh worm?)

  Evan glanced shyly at her. “Lucky guess. It’s my favorite, too, so I just thought…”

  She nodded. “It’s the best, definitely. So do you want a donut?” she asked, pulling a bag out of the pantry. He blurted, “What kind?” “What?” “I just wanna see something. Wha- what kind of donuts do you have?”

  She smirked. “Only the best.” At the same time they said, “Cherry iced.”

  Evan’s mouth fell open. “No way.” Raising an eyebrow, she deadpanned, “The plot thickens.” He laughed at that.

  [Y/N] set the donuts on a plate and sat down at the kitchen table across from Evan. He handed her a thermos and they each silently took a donut and ate. Evan was nervous, but somehow the quiet with her wasn’t as bad as it was with others. He got the impression that she was thinking. Her eyes were far away, her chin rested absently in the cup of her hand.

  Evan cautiously reached out and tapped her other hand. “What are you thinking about?” he asked. She looked up and her eyes focused again. “Nothing.”

  Silence.

  She looked over at Evan. “Sorry for what happened the other day. That was shitty.” He smiled feebly. “Yeah. Thank you, though.” She spotted the Fleet Foxes CD. “Shall we give it a listen?”

  Evan was really starting to like this girl.

  ~~~~~~~~

  You popped the CD out of its case and inserted it into the stereo in your living room. Soft, haunting strains of folk music floated from the speakers. You turned to Evan, whose eyes were sparkling. He really did love this album, and you could see why.

  As a song called “Blue Ridge Mountains” began to play, you sat with Evan on the couch. “So.” you said to him. “Mr. Just-Moved-In. Where do you come from?”

  He began to tell you about his hometown and Zoe and Jared and Alana and the Connor Project and everything else, until his breathing was labored and you could see tears welling up in his eyes. He was clearly still broken up about everything he’d done, and a part of him always would be.

  He sniffed hard and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, saying with a watery grin, “I didn’t expect for all of that to come out. I’m sorry, that’s a big burden to unload on you after we just met…”

  You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. I have a lot of baggage, too. We’ll just be emotionally fucked-up together.” He laughed, loud this time. It made you feel so good to make him smile, and you felt yourself laughing a little too. You chuckled again, and again, until you were both hysterically laughing at yourselves.

  Wiping a stray ironic tear from your eyes, you gushed, “Oh, we’re fucked up. We’re soooo fucked up, Evan.” He was still laughing a little. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.

  “Hey, what about you?” he asked. “What’s your damage?” You stopped laughing. “Oh, man, I don’t think so, bud. Not yet.” His smile faded. “Why not?” His eyes were fragile.

  You shook your head and ran a hand through your hair. “It’s too much to talk about right now. It didn’t happen very long ago.” He pressed a hand on yours gently, cautiously. “Neither did mine, [Y/N]. You’ll have to talk about it sometime. And I’m guessing your parents aren’t in the know about this, right?”

  You winced. Here we go. He pulled his hand back abruptly. “What is it?” he said, worried. “Did I say something wrong? Is this about your parents?” You nodded wordlessly, too distressed to speak. If you opened your mouth, it would all come tumbling out, and you couldn’t let that happen.

  Evan looked at you with concern. “[Y/N], you can tell me. It… it’s okay. I know we just met and everything but I’m - I’m your friend. I want to help.” You met his eyes, his huge, sincere, beautiful blue eyes, and in that moment you knew you had found someone you could finally trust.

  And so everything came pouring out of you, about your family and your dad, your best friend, and how his eyes were always laughing, and how they stayed that way even through the chemo, even through all the treatments and surgeries and pain; you told him about how your dad would wrap you up in his big arms and tickle your face with his scratchy beard and tell you everything would be just fine. And you remembered, breathlessly, the day the laughter left his eyes for good and his body relaxed and his monitors flatlined and…

  …and you found yourself sobbing onto Evan’s shoulder; Evan, whom you barely knew; Evan, who had betrayed everyone he loved, but who you still knew beyond a doubt that you could trust. He was stroking your hair as sobs wracked your body. You clung to his sweater and cried until you could cry no more, and then you snuffled and looked up at him.

  He smiled down at you and softly sang along as Fleet Foxes crooned in the background: "Your protector's coming home."

  “My mom has no idea how I feel,” you said. “I never tell her anything because all I get is a lecture.” He looked concerned. “[Y/N], you need to talk to your mom about this. There’s no way you’re gonna feel better until you get this figured out."

  "I mean, I guess."

  A pause.

  "[Y/N]?" "Yeah?" "Can I... hold your hand?" "Uhhh... okay." "Are you sure? Because I don't have to if you don't want to or if that would make you or uncomfortable or anything, I would totally get it if y--"

  You broke him off by reaching up and kissing him suddenly and quickly. You were surprised at yourself; you'd never done anything like that before. He made a surprised little "mmf!" but didn't pull away.

  When the kiss ended, his eyes were still closed and his eyebrows raised as if he were in shock. "[Y/N]," he breathed, his eyes fluttering open, "that was, uh..."

  "...nice," you finished for him. His cheeks were colored. "Yeah." He pulled you in for another kiss, deeper this time, but sweeter, too. Evan was better than anything you'd ever known.

  Could it be that he was sincere and could be there for you? It seemed the universe had given you a bit of luck at last. Evan could take care of you and help you through your heartbreak. You were ready to heal.

  Your protector's coming home.