#brendon urie oneshot
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Introduction!! 💜🌙
(Because I keep forgetting to post it lol)
First and foremost, the owner of this blog stands with PALESTINE. #FREEPALESTINE🇵🇸
Hi! I’m Fable, but you can call me fae if we’re close :] I’m sixteen and I’ve been a fander since 2017-2018, so about…6-7 years? I’m glad to be here :))
Artists I love:
-Lana Del Rey
-Ethel Cain
-Taylor Swift
-The Weeknd
-NF
-MCR (My Chemical Romance)
-I Prevail
-Fall Out Boy
-P!ATD (Panic! At The Disco) (read: I do not support Brendon Urie)
-Paramore
{You’ll probably see me reblogging Taylor and Ethel Cain related posts most often :D}
Fandoms/Fanbases I am in:
-Sanders Sides
-Swifties
-Daughters Of Cain
-MRIH (My Roommate Is Hades)
Things I’m fine with being tagged in:
-Sanders sides x Reader (angst or fluff either is fine :D)
-Prinxiety/Analogical fanfic and/or one shots, etc.
-art
-Remy and/or Emile fanfic/art/oneshots/etc.!! I love finding these kinds of posts considering they aren’t core sides
-basically anything sanders sides related EXCEPT for ANYTHING NSFW and/or RemRom
DNI
-Transphobes
-homophobes
-TERFs
-people that ship/interact with RemRom content (ew)
-misogynists
-basically if you’re just a bad person who supports horrible things/causes, DNI.
Please interact list:
-Fanders
-Inclusionary Feminists
-people who love music
-VIRGIL KINNIES JDKDOXOWOFJWOJFKS
-orange side theorists!!
I’ll usually post/reblog:
-sanders sides theories/opinions
-funny incorrect quotes
-art (sometimes sanders sides related sometimes not)
-fanfic
-quotes (again, sometimes sanders sides related, sometimes not.)
Boundaries:
-totally fine with DMs as long as you’re fine with my response being few and far between, I’m not good with small talk or starting conversations and I need tone tags sooo
-totally fine with spam liking/reblogging! I love seeing that people like what I post :DD
-please please do not criticize my writing! I haven’t written in a very long time and I’m just now starting back up again, please bare with me!
Writing masterlist<3
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ABSENCE (BRENDON URIE X RYAN ROSS)
TW: Self harm, self harm references, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, child abuse, blood, sharp objects, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts and suicide references .
Please do not continue to read if you are sensitive to any of these topics!
Angsty/fluffy Teen! Brendon Urie x Teen! Ryan Ross oneshot.
Word Count: 6753
Hope you enjoy, please comment on any errors or improvements/suggestions or if there are any trigger warnings i missed! This is my first post. I apologise if it's bad yikes >_<.
Also put any one shot requests you have here:
If you have any other ships or x readers (of emo men) put them here:
Also! Credits to one of my best friends called Ash!!! My platonic soulmate :p They helped me with the story line, especially the angst :3
—————-
Ryan kicked his shoes off and walked into his house. The horribly familiar scent of alcohol filled his nose, quickly running upstairs to avoid his dad. They lived in a relatively small town, his dad only went to his job for alcohol. He was getting money from his dead wife's bank account; he figured that kept Ryan’s needs sorted. Ryan would often get beatings from his dad, he never had a safe place until he went to school. Even at school he would be bullied and Ryan usually went home to cry himself to sleep. He always wishes everything would be different. Perhaps it would be better if his mom was here; he still went to visit her gravestone every weekend. His dad didn’t care for her except for the money he obtained from her death.
Ryan usually woke up at 5:45am to get ready for school. He had to do everything himself, so it took him longer than others who had their parents support. Ryan had set out all his clothes for the day, until something caught his eye. He looked down at the faded scars on his wrist; they reminded him of the times where he used to self-harm to feel better. Especially after his mother’s death. He stared around his room; the wooden box containing blades had an unusual enticing aura. fuck. He couldn’t relapse now, he’s 3 whole months clean; nearly 100 days.
He swiftly grabbed the blade and made 7 deep slashes across his wrist. He grabbed a tissue to clean himself up.It was the middle of summer and 71.6°F outside. He’d either just have to risk being spotted by teachers or wear a jacket all day. It was way too hot for a jacket and he had sports today; there is no way he could go with a jacket on all day. His school didn’t even have any goddamn air con. Ryan eventually decided to leave his jacket at home and try to cover up his fresh scars with band bracelets. He scrambled down the stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder.
“GET HERE RIGHT NOW!” His dad furiously shouted, Ryan could feel his stomach bubbling with anxiety and dread. He had to obey his father otherwise the punishment would be 10 times worse. He knew what was coming, it happened everyday. His father would punch him and occasionally break glass bottles on his head. Ever since he was born his dad became addicted to drugs. He blamed it on Ryan as he became a father when he didn’t want to.
As Ryan obtained eye contact with the burly irate man, he could see him clench his fist and shake with frustration. He braced himself as he took a clean strike straight to the head, that would definitely bruise quickly. Ryan always had to lie to the teacher and make up excuses. For example ‘I fell over.’ or ‘I got in a fight with another student.’ but Ryan knew he couldn’t keep up th at counterfeit for much longer.
Tears burned his face as his dad yelled for him to leave. He didn’t have anyone anymore. No mother, an unloving father and zero friends. The teachers that he could supposedly go and talk to didn’t even care, that's their job! They're supposed to fake sympathy even if they don't even mean it.
Ryan slammed the door and shoved his headphones in his ears. Even if he didn’t have any special people in his life, he had music. One day he dreamt of being famous. School had recently been getting worse for him; people would constantly call him gay or emo. Sure, he dressed in band shirts but he wasn’t the definition of emo. He never dated anyone, how would he even know if he was gay! His favourite band was my chemical romance, he always looked up to them. Everyday he would listen to them on the way to school. They truly changed his life, they were his source of comfort and inspiration he needed.
Ryan sucked in a deep breath as he arrived at the school gates. Almost immediately getting shouted at. When would this stop? Would it ever stop before it got too much? He just headed to his locker to prepare for English. BANG. There he was in Ryan’s eyeline, the well-known school bully. Already being bullied 3 minutes into the school day…yay. Ryan hated this, being bullied everyday just to go home to an even worse environment. He learned life isn’t always fair but can always be unfair.
He sat in English literature class, alone and bored. The students awaited the arrival of their teacher, Mrs Kay. Everyone was throwing paper aeroplanes and pencils at each other; until, Mrs Kay walked into class with an unfamiliar student. As she saw the disastrous sight of the classroom, she gave a disappointed sigh.
“Class! sit down, please welcome to our classroom a new student. His name is Brendon Urie.” He slowly made his way to the back of the classroom and sat in one of 3 empty desks next to Ryan. He tried to ignore the stinging on his wrists as a new wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to cover his fresh, beedy, scarlet cuts as best as he possibly could; hopefully no one would notice because then he’d be perfect for the bullies to target. They already did anyways, he just couldn’t have anyone see what he went through. His mental state was at an all time low. But, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the new kid.
“Hey, as you know I’m Brendon. I thought you look pretty cool; I like your style. So, I thought I’d come sit next to you! What’s your name?” Ryan stared at him with shocked glassy eyes. No one had ever been this nice to him.
“Oh, um hi, thanks I’m Ryan Ross. I like your style too.” A smile crept upon his face. He hadn’t felt a genuine smile since his mother was still alive. Brendon shot back a true friendly smile back at him.
“I was wondering if we could have lunch together? If you have any friends I’d love to meet them!” Ryan’s smile faded away slowly. The other boy gave him a sympathetic confused look. He cleared his throat as Ryan just stared off into space.
“Shit, sorry. Yeah I’d like it if we had lunch together,” Ryan paused before continuing with the hard part. “I don’t have any friends though, the only human interaction I usually get is teachers or bullies,” He sighed and let out a small laugh. Brendon stared wide-eyed at the skinny tall boy.
They sat through the rest of the English lesson quietly, occasionally making jokes or commenting on things Mrs Kay said. Ryan kept seeing the teachers glance at his wrist, he continued to shift in his chair. RING. That was the bell for class to be over. Finally! He could get to know Brendon a bit more. But he just had to be interrupted by Mrs Kay.
“Ryan, could I have a word with you please?” Of course Ryan had to agree to it. Who was he to refuse a goddamn teacher? There certainly is no way to get out of this. He just nodded his head and walked towards her. “Ryan, I’m concerned about you. I’ve seen your wrist and I have these mental health concerns and possible ways to fix them on these documents. I need your dad to have them, is that ok?” His palms became sweaty and he tapped his fingers together.
“Is there anyone else we could give it to Mrs Kay?” Ryan anxiously asked.
“Do you have any friends that could help you?” She questioned, obviously knowing the boy’s social life.
“Actually I do,” Ryan replied as he snatched the papers out of her hands and ran to go meet Brendon in the lunch hall.
He took a deep breath before he entered the grand lunch hall. Ryan sat down next to his new friend; he quickly grabbed his lunchbox out of his bag.
“Hey, so I need to tell you something important. Then I have a huge favour I need to ask you,” He spluttered as Brendon took a bite of his sandwich. He happily replied with a simple nod. “Around 5 months ago my mother died,” Brendon looked at the boy with a flabbergasted expression upon his face. “Also, my dad beats me and he is addicted to drugs and alcohol. Obviously having all of that happen to me is quite a burden, after my mom died I fell into a deep spiral of depression…” Ryan didn’t quite realise how many tears started flowing down his face at this point. Brendon wrapped his arm around him as a source of comfort.
“It's ok Ryan, take your time,” He took a small slurp of his drink before panning his attention back to him. Ryan sucked in a deep calming breath before continuing. Words failed to come out of Ryan’s mouth, so he did the next thing he could think of. He carefully removed all the bracelets for his wrist and showed them to Brendon. “I get it Ryan, I’m here for you.” He engulfed him in a warm caring hug.
“I’m sorry, we just met. I shouldn’t have told you this, I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” He got up to run away but Brendon grabbed his arm to pull him back. Ryan winced at the stinging sensation reappearing.
“Ryan. I still want to be your friend. I can tell beneath everything that you’ve put up with is a boy who just wants to feel loved again,” He stared at him with an understanding look in his eyes as Ryan slumped back down. “Anyways, what was this ‘favour’ you needed me to do?”
“Mrs Kay gave me these papers about mental health. She said I need to give them to someone because they might be able to help me with panic attacks and stopping self harm,” Ryan sniffled. Brendon took the papers out of his hands and quickly scanned over them.
“How about we go to my house later? We can get to know each other even better and we can discuss these papers,” He flashed a toothy smile at Ryan. He just replied with a simple nod.
The rest of lunch and school went a lot smoother than usual from Ryan’s perspective. Having a friend around really does make life more enjoyable. They agreed to meeting each other in the parking lot after school.
Brendon talked about himself on the walk to his house, simply so Ryan could get to know him better. They scraped their shoes along the warm concrete sidewalk as they approached the Urie’s household.
“I’m home now mom!” brendon shouted as he took a step closer to his kitchen. “I brought a friend over, hope you don’t mind,”
“Of course not honey!” Mrs Urie exclaimed whilst wiping her hands on a towel. Ryan nervously gulped before gaining the courage to speak. His eyes nervously flickered around the room, seeing quite a few religious items such as multiple bibles.
“Hi Mrs Urie, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you!” He blurted before being pulled into a motherly hug. Tears filled his eyes. He forgot what a mothers love felt like.
“Nice to meet you too Ryan, friends are always welcome here!” He only had time to reply with a small nod as he got dragged upstairs by Brendon. Before he knew it he was entering Brendon’s colourful yet very teenage room.
“So, I had a look at the papers and it’s just about frequently checking up on you. I think we can handle that,” Brendon cheerfully explained.
“Yeah, I think we can!” Ryan replied with a cheshire-cat-like grin spreading upon his face. His smile was clearly contagious as brendon has an identical one spread across his face as well.
They continued chatting together but were eventually cut off by Ryan’s phone buzzing. Seeing as it was his dad, he thought he better answer it or there would probably be consequences. “Sorry Brendon, I have to take this,” Brendon simply nodded as Ryan headed just outside his room.
“RYAN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” His dad shouted down the line. Ryan started to anxiously pick at his nails as he thought of his response carefully.
“I’m at a friend's house, sorry.” His breathing slowly picked up as he awaited his dad’s reply.
“Just get home now, I’ll just have to punish you later!” He sighed. Ryan’s eyes pricked with tears as he slid down the wall. Teardrops soaked his jeans as he quietly sobbed. He ripped a piece of paper from his homework and wrote an explanation to Brendon.
‘Sorry. I had to leave :P’
He grabbed his bag from the hallway and left the Urie house. Thank god his house was only a couple blocks away. God only knows what his dad was about to do.
Brendon slowly creaked his door open; it’d been 10 minutes since Ryan left to take the call. Surely it can’t take that long. To Brendon’s surprise, Ryan wasn’t there at all. He frantically scrammed back into his room to flop back onto his bed. Had Ryan text him?
From Ryan:
I left a note, sorry.
His heart raced as he crept back outside and read the note. He left Ryan a few texts along the lines of ‘Don’t worry’ or ‘Where did you go?’ to say he was concerned about him was an understatement. He was extremely distressed over his new friend. What if he gets beaten again? Even though he only met him today, Ryan was his number 1 priority. The scent of food disrupted his thoughts. He went downstairs and slumped down at the dinner table.
Ryan took a deep shaky breath as his dad opened the door. “Get here you little shit.” His dad’s voice rang through his ears. The only sound Ryan could let out was a weak whimper. Before he knew it, an empty beer bottle was smashed against his head. His dad gave out a menacing chuckle, pushing him straight to the floor. “You are garbage, don’t forget it.” Ryan sluggishly walked upstairs; he felt exceedingly lightheaded. Even more than all the normal times his father beat him, he was so used to the sensation. But he could tell this was unusual. When he entered the bathroom, his vision went blurry and dark as he collapsed into a heap on the ground.
Three hours later.
It was 8:15pm, 4 whole hours since Brendon last spoke to Ryan. Brendon was casually scrolling myspace, until he noticed how alarming it was that Ryan hadn’t responded. His mind panned back to what he had told him earlier, wait, did he go home? What happened with his dad. He didn’t have any time to waste as he chucked on his shoes and yelled to his mom. “I’m going to check on a friend, is that okay?”
“Of course honey,” and with his mom’s confirmation he sped out the door. His sneakers scuffed along the damp concrete and he puffed out heavy exhausted breaths. Rain fell upon his face as he ran so hard his legs nearly gave out.
Hang on, how was he going to get in? Fuck. He should've thought of this before he sprinted here. After pondering on what he should do, he spotted a window which was cracked open. He squeezed his body into the tight gap and got into the house. He could see the staircase from where he was standing. Loud chuckles and clattering of beer bottles against tables were erupting from the room next door. So, if that was Ryan’s dad he could easily get upstairs without being caught.
Once he tiptoed upstairs, a thud sound came from behind a closed door. Surely no one else was here, right? As the cogs turned in his brain, it came to him that it was Ryan. Frantically, his hands turned the doorknob to reveal Ryan curled in a ball on the ground. Brendon examined his whole body checking for injuries; blood was streaming out of his head. He inspected the injury closer and pulled small shards of what looked like beer bottle glass out from his brown locks.
“Ryan, can you hear me?” Brendon calmly spoke as he shook the young boy. He didn’t respond. His body laid unconsciously on the freezing tiles. Small teardrops turned into loud sobs as Brendon held Ryan as if he was fragile porcelain. He picked up Ryan and retraced his previous footsteps to end up back at his house. “MOM!” Brendon let out a shaky cry out of terror.
“Brendon? What’s wrong honey?” His mother quickly rushed to the front door and gasped before being interrupted by Brendon.
“Help me to get Ryan to hospital please,” He said through his teeth whilst choking back tears.
“He’ll be okay honey, I promise. Now, go get in the car,” She quietly answered as she rushed to get her keys. Brendon buckles his seatbelt faster than ever as he props Ryan up against him. Mrs Urie didn’t say a word to him; it was clear he was very distraught about this whole situation. I mean, who wouldn't be?
Brendon wiped away his tears as they stepped into the Emergency Room. His mom rubbed his back as a source of comfort; he just hoped that Ryan would be okay. Brendon sucked in a deep breath before talking to the worker at the front desk.
“What seems to be the problem?” The worker asked in a caring tone.
“My friend has an abusive dad, he didn’t respond to my text for hours. So, I went to check up on him and found him with glass in his head and he was unconscious on his bathroom floor.” He sniffled as he awaited the response.
“Ok, your friend will be in to see a doctor in 5 minutes max,” They thanked them before sitting down. Brendon anxiously shook his knee up and down as he waited. Ryan was so precious to him. They’ve only known each other for a day, but Brendon still felt this overwhelming need to take care of him and be there for him.
After a five minute wait, the nurse asked for them. “Ryan Ross? Doctor Lockwood is ready for you.”
“I’ll wait here, good luck.” Brendon’s mom gave him a pat on the back. He carried Ryan to the doctor; then he was instructed to place him on a hospital bed. Before he could even blink, the doctors got straight to work as they stitched up his wound.
“Mister Urie,” Dr Lockwood began. “I would like to discuss Ryan’s injury with you,” Brendon sat with the doctor for 45 minutes and explained. Worry ran through his veins as he thought about Ryan. “Well, Ryan’s stitches should be finished, if you would like to go and see him!” Lockwood exclaimed whilst looking at his rusty watch.
Brendon nodded and rushed to go see his friend. “Hi Ryan, how are you holding up?” He quietly whispered.
“I’m good, what happened? I don’t remember much..” He sniffled and gave Brendon a half smile. He explained for a 3rd time what happened and after an hour Ryan got discharged.
They got back into their car and Brendon sat in the back, just in case anything happened. “Ryan,” Mrs Urie spoke up, “I don’t think you should go back to your house, at least not tonight. It really does not sound safe for you, also I’m sure Brendon wouldn’t mind a sleepover!”
“B-but my dad will be really mad if he finds out I left and I’m not there.” Tears slowly welled up in his eyes.
“Ryan, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. May I have your dad’s number? I’ll tell him you're staying at ours, then I will have to tell the police, okay?” Mrs Urie had her mind set on this, it was extremely wrong to do this to a kid. What a monster he must be. Ryan just leaned his head on Brendon’s shoulder, occasionally lifting his hand to wipe his tears away.
They silently unbuckled their seatbelts and made their way inside the house. Brendon led Ryan upstairs to the bathroom and got a spare toothbrush out for him.
“Uh Brendon, I don’t have any clothes to sleep in,” Immediately after, he went to get clothes for him. He grabbed shorts and a baggy hoodie. Ryan took the clothes from Brendon and muttered a small thanks.
“You can get changed in here, I’ll go to my room.” Giving him a little smile, he exited the room.
A few minutes later, Ryan was ready for bed. He stared confused at the floor; oh great, there’s only one bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor, Bren?” His heart fluttered at the thought of a nickname. Brendon blushed before clearing his throat.
“Oh no, I don’t mind you sleeping in my bed! It’s massive anyway,” He awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Ryan slowly crawled into bed next to Brendon. He clicked off the bedside light and snuggled down into his pillow. “Night Ry,” Ryan felt his cheeks heat up and glow red with the simple nickname. No one ever made him feel this way, what emotion even was this? He couldn’t quite figure it out; he copied Brendon’s previous movement and fell into a calm slumber.
-
The next morning, Ryan awoke with an extra warm sensation to one side of him. It seemed that Brendon had attached himself in his sleep. He wasn’t complaining, it was quite relaxing. He reached over to his phone on the oak table. His eyes squinted as the bright screen flashed violently. Brendon stirred in his sleep as Ryan took a few pictures on his phone. He could tell Brendon was waking up, his deep snoring stopped and he was constantly moving. Eventually he ended up with his head on Ryan’s chest, Brendon rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“Morning Ryan, sorry for kind of sleeping on you,” He let out a content sigh and grabbed a bottle of water. Ryan stretched out his long arms and sat up.
“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” He grinned and headed to brush his teeth. Brendon quickly did the same thing, after proposing the idea of pancakes. Ryan eagerly agreed as he leaped down the stairs.
They sat together on the couch with the white noise of the television buzzing in their ears. After they had finished their pancakes, they shared memes on their phone and had a normal chat. Brendon’s mom interrupted them with an idea. “Y’know you guys could go out today!” Ryan quickly accepted the idea with a cheerful nod. Brendon exchanged glances with him as they decided upon a final decision. “There’s lovely restaurants in the town centre, I’ll give you some money boys.”
“Oh, It’s okay Mrs Urie. You don’t have to give me any money; you’ve done more than enough by letting me stay here.”
“Don’t be silly,” She chucked, “having your company is lovely, I don’t mind giving you money!” Mrs Urie smiled as she handed Ryan $50.
“Let’s go get ready then!” Brendon grinned as he excitedly ran upstairs. “I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” He shouted. Ryan flinched at the loud shouting, growing up he always hated shouting, even before his dad started to abuse him. His dad would usually have screaming wars with his mom; no matter what, it would end in his mom crying and Ryan trying his best to comfort her. He was only young, he couldn't do much about it.
Twenty minutes had passed, they were both completely ready and went out. “Mom! We’re going now,” He yelled, waiting for his mother’s response.
“Okay, remember to be safe!” Mrs Urie scrambled to grab her phone as they left. She dialled the police’s number to tell them about Ryan’s dad. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hello ma'am, what are you calling us for?” They answered; she went on to explain about his situation (In extreme detail) for almost an hour straight.
“Thanks for your report, we’ll send the police around there now and hopefully remove any harmful substances from the house.”
“Thank you so much, goodbye.” With that being said, they hung up and presumably got to work.
Brendon and Ryan were in the town centre now; they walked the streets together, hands occasionally grazing each other. They eventually entered a small restaurant tucked in the corner of a street. Two lengthy hours sharing conversation and eating lunch.
Once they had finished their meals, Brendon had called the waiter over and paid for the food.
“How about we head to the restroom quickly and then go home?” He suggested with a small smile on his face as he admired Ryan. He replied with a mini nod and smiled back at him.
Brendon was washing his hands in the marble sink as Ryan stared at him. He grabbed a few paper towels, drying his hands off. Straight after, they left the restaurant, feeling content.
“That was a really good meal!” Ryan beamed but was abruptly cut off by a man in all black + a mask attack Brendon. He was put in a headlock and had a gun put to his head; it wasn’t a busy street and the restaurant windows were tinted. No one would see.
“GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!” The man barked. Brendon whimpered as he couldn’t reach his pockets and stared at Ryan for help. He proceeded to punch the man square in the face. He couldn’t stand to watch Brendon be hurt any longer.
“Fuck off; don’t ever threaten us again.” Ryan growled as he scrammed. Brendon had tears in his eyes, frozen in shock. He engulfed him in a hug, Brendon only responded by resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder.
He rubbed his back and sighed. They stayed like that for a good minute until Ryan cupped his cheeks and wiped his glistening tears away. Their eyes were locked onto each other as they breathed deeply. Brendon slowly leaned closer and just before he could pull away; Ryan’s lips collided with Brendon’s. It was a sweet caring kiss, nothing but care and affection.
A moment was spent with Brendon longingly looking into Ryan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, Brendon pulls back and pushes him away, a new-found rage filling his pupils.
“Ryan, boys can’t love boys,” He said as he ran away, shouting at Ryan to not follow him.
The bus was due in 3 minutes.
Brendon ran like his life depended on it; his lungs felt as if they were collapsing. His feet were on fire, he finally reached the bus stop just as it arrived. The bus hissed as the air brakes were being used. The double doors swung open as Brendon eagerly ran inside and raced to the back of the bus.
His hands traced designs on the polyester fabric of the bus seats. Thoughts raced through his mind at a 1000mph. Brendon couldn’t get Ryan out of his head. Every thought or idea was centred around him.
Shit.
He didn’t like Ryan. He couldn’t! His mum simply would disown him, she’s the most religious person he’d ever met. She would NEVER let Brendon see Ryan again. But, did Brendon actually have feelings for him?
The way his stomach gets butterflies whenever he thinks of him. The way a light dusty blush brushes his cheeks whenever they touch. The way he admired every movement Ryan made.
Fuck. He wasn’t just simply in love. He was head over heels. He had to tell someone, it had to be Ryan.
His mind wandered, taking him back to a time where his mother had a strong point of view.
~ Flashback ~
“Brendon! Pay attention, young man,” His mother disciplined as he played with his shoe laces.
“Sorry,” He muttered, turning his attention to the boring pastor. The pastor was talking about being homosexual, he didn’t appear to have a very fond opinion of it. Brendon’s mom was so brainwashed by him, she fully believed his opinion on homosexuality was right. It wasn’t; everyone should be accepted for who they are.
In the end, her views were so extreme that homosexuality is the reason they moved. She’d found out that there was quite a few homosexual kids at his school and refused to stay there.
~ End of flashback ~
Brendon had come to a realisation, he was bisexual. Even though his current love interest was a man, he had felt sexual attraction to women as well.
The bus came to a halt. He rushed out of the musty bus and raced to his house. He needed to make things right, but first he needed to know Ryan was ok.
Swinging open the door, he shouted for his mother. “MOM!” He yelled in a frightened tone.
“What is wrong? Where’s Ryan?” Brendon felt a sickening sensation form in his stomach at the small mention of the boy.
Ryan sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, tears flew down his face as he thought of Brendon. How could he just ditch him like that? He thought that Brendon was there for him after the incident with his dad. Oh, that was another thing to sob about. His shitty father. Why did he have to end up like this? Ryan reminisced on all his memories with his mother, tears increasing their quantity.
He did know one thing that would make him feel better. He knew it wasn’t the best solution, but it would put a temporary stop to his emotion. Cutting himself, that's all he could think to do. The sky had dimmed, now being a dusky grey. Ryan shuffled down the alleyway and yanked the shiny, metal blade out of his pocket. His hands roamed to pull his sleeve up. A few cuts, that's all he needed. He couldn’t seem to stop.
Ruby blood pooled around him and darkness overcame him.
“Mom, I left Ryan in the town centre. We had a slight argument,” Brendon whimpered. He curled up into a ball on the floor and weeped. “Please, go get him,” He pleaded.
Mrs Urie nodded and responded in a soothing voice, “Ok dear, you go upstairs and calm yourself down!” She exited through the front door and started up her car. Brendon dragged his body upstairs and flopped onto his comforting bed, recollection of cuddling up to Ryan washes over him.
After a while, she arrived at her destination. She glanced around the restaurant, Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Un popping her pocket, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket.
To Brendon:
Hey, is (restaurant name) where you went? I can’t s-
Her typing was cut off by her view being attached to a boy in the alleyway. Hurriedly, she scrambled over to him, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. It was Ryan.
“Ryan,” she called out, “I’ve come to get you!”
No response. Dead silence. The blood glimmered in the dull street lights.
“Oh my…” She gasped. Mrs Urie picked up Ryan in her arms and ran as fast as she could to the car.
She frantically propped his body against the leather seats. Her hands rummaged in the back of the car for her first aid kit. A green bag was quickly opened, strings of bandages were pulled out.
Slowly, stretchy bandages were wrapped around Ryan’s wrist, she applied firm pressure as it soaked up his blood. His limp body was put into a more comfortable position, buckling up their seatbelts, she started the car.
Ryan stirred in his slumber, his eyes soon adjusted to the colourful street lights.
“Mrs Urie?” He earned a small gasp out of her mouth.
Shocked and stunned, she replied, “Yes Ryan?”
“Where are you taking me?” He said with his eyebrows knitted into a confused expression.
“Just back to my house,” She said with a friendly smile on her face. She pondered for a moment, then got the courage to express her thoughts. “What happened between you and Bren?”
Several tears were appearing in his eyes, just at the simple mention of the boy. Gosh, he really was in love. It was just a shame his gay realisation had to be so tragic.
Eventually, he spoke up, “Uh, I kissed Brendon,”
“YOU WHAT!” She screeched.
“I don’t even know! It just felt right at the time…” He trailed off.
“You and Brendon are seriously in for it when we arrive at home! And do not even THINK about texting him to warn him!” She scolded. Ryan sat silently for the rest of the ride; he wished the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole.
They arrived and to say Ryan was horrified was an understatement. His hands were shaking and his eyes were threatening to spill tears.
“BRENDON! GET HERE NOW!” She squawked. Brendon knew that he was in for it. By the tone of her voice, reminding him of his father, Ryan grew more anxious.
Thundering steps boomed down the staircase as Brendon came rushing down. His eyes bulged out of his head; as he looked at Ryan, a panicked expression spread across his face.
“What happened Ryan?” He blurted with a soft, worried voice.
“You! You don’t care about me,” Ryan yelled, emotion loud in his voice. Brendon stared at him in shock, he felt as if a piece of his heart shattered into a billion pieces.
“Ryan, listen to me!” He pleaded, but Ryan slammed the door and ran to their bathroom. Brendon thought that Ryan hated him; little did he know, Ryan was going through the exact same thought process.
Ryan curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tears didn’t just fall, they were crashing around him. He thought back on wanting the world to swallow him up; he realised he was just suppressing his feelings. Ryan was suicidal.
He balled his fist up and shoved them inside his denim jacket pockets. Something cold pressed against his knuckles.
The blade.
Resisting wasn’t an option, he was overcome with an extreme need. A need his mind said he must fulfil.
However, he found his wrist wasn’t enough this time. He needed more. More blood. More thrill.
More pain.
This urgency for more resulted in him slitting his throat. First, only starting off with small cuts, blood rushing to the surface, but not dribbling onto his skin. The emotion had gotten so intense, he began to cut deeper. Blood rushed down his neck, ruining his shirt and occasionally dripping onto his jacket.
Ryan had started to feel light-headed. He stumbled around the bathroom; fuck, how was he meant to hide this scar. Before even taking any protocols into consideration, he began to clean up. Brendon didn’t have anything to clean cuts with. Of course he didn’t, what was Ryan thinking?
Carefully, his freezing hands pressed the paper towel against his neck. Sucking in a breath - caused by the pain - as it began to sting.
Why didn’t his attempt work? All he wanted was to be gone, he’d thought there was nothing else left for him on Earth. He might as well just die. He thought he was pathetic, that's what drove his passion for pain.
A knock came from the old, creaky door.
“Ryan,” Brendon said firmly. Ryan’s heart leapt out of his chest, he couldn’t face Brendon, at least not now. Quickly, he wiped his teardrops away and tried to steady his voice.
“Yes?” Ryan said, his voice slightly shaky from previous events.
“Come out, please…” His tone was hopeful; all he wanted was for Ryan to come out of the bathroom.
Ryan choked back his tears as he examined his neck in the mirror. “I can’t,” Ryan thought carefully about his response, but nothing was a good enough reason.
“I promise I don’t hate you…” Brendons voice trailed off before he continued. “I actually have some, uh, complicated feelings. I'd like to talk to you about it. But only if it’s alright with you!” He took a huge gulp, awaiting the other boy's reply.
No reply was made. Ryan lowered his head into his knees; he’d never been this bad. He let everything get to him, every comment, every action and most importantly everything. Some things (or people) are better off being shut out.
“I’m coming in Ryan; I can tell you're not okay,” Brendon waited for any final reponses. Finally, he turned the door knob with his hand.
He was speechless, bloody tissues and more cuts on his wrist. But, he hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. Brendon sat opposite Ryan.
He rubbed Ryan’s shoulder comfortingly. He was waiting for some form of eye contact; looking to find meaning and emotion in his eyes. Any form of communication would work, a sign even!
Ryan pricked his head up. Brendons breathing faltered as he saw his neck. Hundreds of thoughts ran through both their minds.
Suddenly, a harsh slap was delivered to Brendon from Ryan. It was all too overwhelming for him. His brain was shutting down and he wasn’t thinking straight.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Ryan raised his voice.
“FOR FUCKS SAKE! RYAN, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!” Brendon felt his eyes rapidly well up.
“Well. Maybe I don’t want your help!” He said, quite a bit quieter this time.
“Clearly, you need someone's help! You can’t go a single fucking day without cutting yourself,” He muttered, Brendon was extremely pissed off by now. He had never been in a situation like this; all he yearned to do was help. Help the special person in his life.
Brendon realised that he shouldn’t have said that, he could’ve just ruined their (complicated) relationship completely. He seemed to snap out of his thoughts when Ryan was sobbing.
Brendon did that. He realised he made Ryan this sad.
“I’m so sorry Ryan, I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean it,” He apologised, Ryan meant so much to him. How could he do that to him?
“Go away,” Ryan sniffled. “I hate you,” He wept. Brendon knew he didn’t actually mean it. Even Ryan knew he didn’t mean it. Ryan had also come to the realisation that he did in fact need help.
Brendon stayed sat opposite him. He was lost for words; he had no idea what to do. He stayed silent, wishing that Ryan would say something first.
Fortunately, his wish came true. Ryan finally spoke up after what felt like an hour of silence - in reality it was less than a minute.
“Bren,” His cheeks dusted a pink shade at the pet name. “I need help,” He said and took a gulp of courage.
Brendon took Ryan’s hand in his hand. “Y’know I’d get you any help you needed,” He told him, maintaining a calm eye contact.
“All I need is you,” Ryan sighed softly; finding a sudden surge of confidence. Their eyes were like gravitational pulls towards each other; not leaving their view.
Brendon pulled Ryan into a deep, passionate kiss. Breath slightly shaky as their lips parted.
“When I left, I realised that I’m in love with you…” Brendon blurted. His cheeks burned a bright pink hue.
“I guess it’s true,” Ryan snickered, the other boy just stared, confused.
“What?” He questioned, trying to think of the answer, mind blanking.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”
—
A/N That is the end of this oneshot! Hope you enjoyed it! Fun fact: this was based off of something I wrote in class :p
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ABSENCE [RYAN ROSS X BRENDON URIE]
TW: Self harm, self harm references, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, child abuse, blood, sharp objects, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts and suicide references .
Please do not continue to read if you are sensitive to any of these topics!
Angsty/fluffy Teen! Brendon Urie x Teen! Ryan Ross oneshot.
Word Count: 6753
Hope you enjoy, please comment on any errors or improvements/suggestions or if there are any trigger warnings i missed! This is my first post. I apologise if it's bad yikes >_<.
Also put any one shot requests into the comments.
If you have any other ships or x readers (of emo men) put them in the comments.
—————-
Ryan kicked his shoes off and walked into his house. The horribly familiar scent of alcohol filled his nose, quickly running upstairs to avoid his dad. They lived in a relatively small town, his dad only went to his job for alcohol. He was getting money from his dead wife's bank account; he figured that kept Ryan’s needs sorted. Ryan would often get beatings from his dad, he never had a safe place until he went to school. Even at school he would be bullied and Ryan usually went home to cry himself to sleep. He always wishes everything would be different. Perhaps it would be better if his mom was here; he still went to visit her gravestone every weekend. His dad didn’t care for her except for the money he obtained from her death.
Ryan usually woke up at 5:45am to get ready for school. He had to do everything himself, so it took him longer than others who had their parents support. Ryan had set out all his clothes for the day, until something caught his eye. He looked down at the faded scars on his wrist; they reminded him of the times where he used to self-harm to feel better. Especially after his mother’s death. He stared around his room; the wooden box containing blades had an unusual enticing aura. fuck. He couldn’t relapse now, he’s 3 whole months clean; nearly 100 days.
He swiftly grabbed the blade and made 7 deep slashes across his wrist. He grabbed a tissue to clean himself up.It was the middle of summer and 71.6°F outside. He’d either just have to risk being spotted by teachers or wear a jacket all day. It was way too hot for a jacket and he had sports today; there is no way he could go with a jacket on all day. His school didn’t even have any goddamn air con. Ryan eventually decided to leave his jacket at home and try to cover up his fresh scars with band bracelets. He scrambled down the stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder.
“GET HERE RIGHT NOW!” His dad furiously shouted, Ryan could feel his stomach bubbling with anxiety and dread. He had to obey his father otherwise the punishment would be 10 times worse. He knew what was coming, it happened everyday. His father would punch him and occasionally break glass bottles on his head. Ever since he was born his dad became addicted to drugs. He blamed it on Ryan as he became a father when he didn’t want to.
As Ryan obtained eye contact with the burly irate man, he could see him clench his fist and shake with frustration. He braced himself as he took a clean strike straight to the head, that would definitely bruise quickly. Ryan always had to lie to the teacher and make up excuses. For example ‘I fell over.’ or ‘I got in a fight with another student.’ but Ryan knew he couldn’t keep up th at counterfeit for much longer.
Tears burned his face as his dad yelled for him to leave. He didn’t have anyone anymore. No mother, an unloving father and zero friends. The teachers that he could supposedly go and talk to didn’t even care, that's their job! They're supposed to fake sympathy even if they don't even mean it.
Ryan slammed the door and shoved his headphones in his ears. Even if he didn’t have any special people in his life, he had music. One day he dreamt of being famous. School had recently been getting worse for him; people would constantly call him gay or emo. Sure, he dressed in band shirts but he wasn’t the definition of emo. He never dated anyone, how would he even know if he was gay! His favourite band was my chemical romance, he always looked up to them. Everyday he would listen to them on the way to school. They truly changed his life, they were his source of comfort and inspiration he needed.
Ryan sucked in a deep breath as he arrived at the school gates. Almost immediately getting shouted at. When would this stop? Would it ever stop before it got too much? He just headed to his locker to prepare for English. BANG. There he was in Ryan’s eyeline, the well-known school bully. Already being bullied 3 minutes into the school day…yay. Ryan hated this, being bullied everyday just to go home to an even worse environment. He learned life isn’t always fair but can always be unfair.
He sat in English literature class, alone and bored. The students awaited the arrival of their teacher, Mrs Kay. Everyone was throwing paper aeroplanes and pencils at each other; until, Mrs Kay walked into class with an unfamiliar student. As she saw the disastrous sight of the classroom, she gave a disappointed sigh.
“Class! sit down, please welcome to our classroom a new student. His name is Brendon Urie.” He slowly made his way to the back of the classroom and sat in one of 3 empty desks next to Ryan. He tried to ignore the stinging on his wrists as a new wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to cover his fresh, beedy, scarlet cuts as best as he possibly could; hopefully no one would notice because then he’d be perfect for the bullies to target. They already did anyways, he just couldn’t have anyone see what he went through. His mental state was at an all time low. But, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the new kid.
“Hey, as you know I’m Brendon. I thought you look pretty cool; I like your style. So, I thought I’d come sit next to you! What’s your name?” Ryan stared at him with shocked glassy eyes. No one had ever been this nice to him.
“Oh, um hi, thanks I’m Ryan Ross. I like your style too.” A smile crept upon his face. He hadn’t felt a genuine smile since his mother was still alive. Brendon shot back a true friendly smile back at him.
“I was wondering if we could have lunch together? If you have any friends I’d love to meet them!” Ryan’s smile faded away slowly. The other boy gave him a sympathetic confused look. He cleared his throat as Ryan just stared off into space.
“Shit, sorry. Yeah I’d like it if we had lunch together,” Ryan paused before continuing with the hard part. “I don’t have any friends though, the only human interaction I usually get is teachers or bullies,” He sighed and let out a small laugh. Brendon stared wide-eyed at the skinny tall boy.
They sat through the rest of the English lesson quietly, occasionally making jokes or commenting on things Mrs Kay said. Ryan kept seeing the teachers glance at his wrist, he continued to shift in his chair. RING. That was the bell for class to be over. Finally! He could get to know Brendon a bit more. But he just had to be interrupted by Mrs Kay.
“Ryan, could I have a word with you please?” Of course Ryan had to agree to it. Who was he to refuse a goddamn teacher? There certainly is no way to get out of this. He just nodded his head and walked towards her. “Ryan, I’m concerned about you. I’ve seen your wrist and I have these mental health concerns and possible ways to fix them on these documents. I need your dad to have them, is that ok?” His palms became sweaty and he tapped his fingers together.
“Is there anyone else we could give it to Mrs Kay?” Ryan anxiously asked.
“Do you have any friends that could help you?” She questioned, obviously knowing the boy’s social life.
“Actually I do,” Ryan replied as he snatched the papers out of her hands and ran to go meet Brendon in the lunch hall.
He took a deep breath before he entered the grand lunch hall. Ryan sat down next to his new friend; he quickly grabbed his lunchbox out of his bag.
“Hey, so I need to tell you something important. Then I have a huge favour I need to ask you,” He spluttered as Brendon took a bite of his sandwich. He happily replied with a simple nod. “Around 5 months ago my mother died,” Brendon looked at the boy with a flabbergasted expression upon his face. “Also, my dad beats me and he is addicted to drugs and alcohol. Obviously having all of that happen to me is quite a burden, after my mom died I fell into a deep spiral of depression…” Ryan didn’t quite realise how many tears started flowing down his face at this point. Brendon wrapped his arm around him as a source of comfort.
“It's ok Ryan, take your time,” He took a small slurp of his drink before panning his attention back to him. Ryan sucked in a deep calming breath before continuing. Words failed to come out of Ryan’s mouth, so he did the next thing he could think of. He carefully removed all the bracelets for his wrist and showed them to Brendon. “I get it Ryan, I’m here for you.” He engulfed him in a warm caring hug.
“I’m sorry, we just met. I shouldn’t have told you this, I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” He got up to run away but Brendon grabbed his arm to pull him back. Ryan winced at the stinging sensation reappearing.
“Ryan. I still want to be your friend. I can tell beneath everything that you’ve put up with is a boy who just wants to feel loved again,” He stared at him with an understanding look in his eyes as Ryan slumped back down. “Anyways, what was this ‘favour’ you needed me to do?”
“Mrs Kay gave me these papers about mental health. She said I need to give them to someone because they might be able to help me with panic attacks and stopping self harm,” Ryan sniffled. Brendon took the papers out of his hands and quickly scanned over them.
“How about we go to my house later? We can get to know each other even better and we can discuss these papers,” He flashed a toothy smile at Ryan. He just replied with a simple nod.
The rest of lunch and school went a lot smoother than usual from Ryan’s perspective. Having a friend around really does make life more enjoyable. They agreed to meeting each other in the parking lot after school.
Brendon talked about himself on the walk to his house, simply so Ryan could get to know him better. They scraped their shoes along the warm concrete sidewalk as they approached the Urie’s household.
“I’m home now mom!” brendon shouted as he took a step closer to his kitchen. “I brought a friend over, hope you don’t mind,”
“Of course not honey!” Mrs Urie exclaimed whilst wiping her hands on a towel. Ryan nervously gulped before gaining the courage to speak. His eyes nervously flickered around the room, seeing quite a few religious items such as multiple bibles.
“Hi Mrs Urie, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you!” He blurted before being pulled into a motherly hug. Tears filled his eyes. He forgot what a mothers love felt like.
“Nice to meet you too Ryan, friends are always welcome here!” He only had time to reply with a small nod as he got dragged upstairs by Brendon. Before he knew it he was entering Brendon’s colourful yet very teenage room.
“So, I had a look at the papers and it’s just about frequently checking up on you. I think we can handle that,” Brendon cheerfully explained.
“Yeah, I think we can!” Ryan replied with a cheshire-cat-like grin spreading upon his face. His smile was clearly contagious as brendon has an identical one spread across his face as well.
They continued chatting together but were eventually cut off by Ryan’s phone buzzing. Seeing as it was his dad, he thought he better answer it or there would probably be consequences. “Sorry Brendon, I have to take this,” Brendon simply nodded as Ryan headed just outside his room.
“RYAN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” His dad shouted down the line. Ryan started to anxiously pick at his nails as he thought of his response carefully.
“I’m at a friend's house, sorry.” His breathing slowly picked up as he awaited his dad’s reply.
“Just get home now, I’ll just have to punish you later!” He sighed. Ryan’s eyes pricked with tears as he slid down the wall. Teardrops soaked his jeans as he quietly sobbed. He ripped a piece of paper from his homework and wrote an explanation to Brendon.
‘Sorry. I had to leave :P’
He grabbed his bag from the hallway and left the Urie house. Thank god his house was only a couple blocks away. God only knows what his dad was about to do.
Brendon slowly creaked his door open; it’d been 10 minutes since Ryan left to take the call. Surely it can’t take that long. To Brendon’s surprise, Ryan wasn’t there at all. He frantically scrammed back into his room to flop back onto his bed. Had Ryan text him?
From Ryan:
I left a note, sorry.
His heart raced as he crept back outside and read the note. He left Ryan a few texts along the lines of ‘Don’t worry’ or ‘Where did you go?’ to say he was concerned about him was an understatement. He was extremely distressed over his new friend. What if he gets beaten again? Even though he only met him today, Ryan was his number 1 priority. The scent of food disrupted his thoughts. He went downstairs and slumped down at the dinner table.
Ryan took a deep shaky breath as his dad opened the door. “Get here you little shit.” His dad’s voice rang through his ears. The only sound Ryan could let out was a weak whimper. Before he knew it, an empty beer bottle was smashed against his head. His dad gave out a menacing chuckle, pushing him straight to the floor. “You are garbage, don’t forget it.” Ryan sluggishly walked upstairs; he felt exceedingly lightheaded. Even more than all the normal times his father beat him, he was so used to the sensation. But he could tell this was unusual. When he entered the bathroom, his vision went blurry and dark as he collapsed into a heap on the ground.
Three hours later.
It was 8:15pm, 4 whole hours since Brendon last spoke to Ryan. Brendon was casually scrolling myspace, until he noticed how alarming it was that Ryan hadn’t responded. His mind panned back to what he had told him earlier, wait, did he go home? What happened with his dad. He didn’t have any time to waste as he chucked on his shoes and yelled to his mom. “I’m going to check on a friend, is that okay?”
“Of course honey,” and with his mom’s confirmation he sped out the door. His sneakers scuffed along the damp concrete and he puffed out heavy exhausted breaths. Rain fell upon his face as he ran so hard his legs nearly gave out.
Hang on, how was he going to get in? Fuck. He should've thought of this before he sprinted here. After pondering on what he should do, he spotted a window which was cracked open. He squeezed his body into the tight gap and got into the house. He could see the staircase from where he was standing. Loud chuckles and clattering of beer bottles against tables were erupting from the room next door. So, if that was Ryan’s dad he could easily get upstairs without being caught.
Once he tiptoed upstairs, a thud sound came from behind a closed door. Surely no one else was here, right? As the cogs turned in his brain, it came to him that it was Ryan. Frantically, his hands turned the doorknob to reveal Ryan curled in a ball on the ground. Brendon examined his whole body checking for injuries; blood was streaming out of his head. He inspected the injury closer and pulled small shards of what looked like beer bottle glass out from his brown locks.
“Ryan, can you hear me?” Brendon calmly spoke as he shook the young boy. He didn’t respond. His body laid unconsciously on the freezing tiles. Small teardrops turned into loud sobs as Brendon held Ryan as if he was fragile porcelain. He picked up Ryan and retraced his previous footsteps to end up back at his house. “MOM!” Brendon let out a shaky cry out of terror.
“Brendon? What’s wrong honey?” His mother quickly rushed to the front door and gasped before being interrupted by Brendon.
“Help me to get Ryan to hospital please,” He said through his teeth whilst choking back tears.
“He’ll be okay honey, I promise. Now, go get in the car,” She quietly answered as she rushed to get her keys. Brendon buckles his seatbelt faster than ever as he props Ryan up against him. Mrs Urie didn’t say a word to him; it was clear he was very distraught about this whole situation. I mean, who wouldn't be?
Brendon wiped away his tears as they stepped into the Emergency Room. His mom rubbed his back as a source of comfort; he just hoped that Ryan would be okay. Brendon sucked in a deep breath before talking to the worker at the front desk.
“What seems to be the problem?” The worker asked in a caring tone.
“My friend has an abusive dad, he didn’t respond to my text for hours. So, I went to check up on him and found him with glass in his head and he was unconscious on his bathroom floor.” He sniffled as he awaited the response.
“Ok, your friend will be in to see a doctor in 5 minutes max,” They thanked them before sitting down. Brendon anxiously shook his knee up and down as he waited. Ryan was so precious to him. They’ve only known each other for a day, but Brendon still felt this overwhelming need to take care of him and be there for him.
After a five minute wait, the nurse asked for them. “Ryan Ross? Doctor Lockwood is ready for you.”
“I’ll wait here, good luck.” Brendon’s mom gave him a pat on the back. He carried Ryan to the doctor; then he was instructed to place him on a hospital bed. Before he could even blink, the doctors got straight to work as they stitched up his wound.
“Mister Urie,” Dr Lockwood began. “I would like to discuss Ryan’s injury with you,” Brendon sat with the doctor for 45 minutes and explained. Worry ran through his veins as he thought about Ryan. “Well, Ryan’s stitches should be finished, if you would like to go and see him!” Lockwood exclaimed whilst looking at his rusty watch.
Brendon nodded and rushed to go see his friend. “Hi Ryan, how are you holding up?” He quietly whispered.
“I’m good, what happened? I don’t remember much..” He sniffled and gave Brendon a half smile. He explained for a 3rd time what happened and after an hour Ryan got discharged.
They got back into their car and Brendon sat in the back, just in case anything happened. “Ryan,” Mrs Urie spoke up, “I don’t think you should go back to your house, at least not tonight. It really does not sound safe for you, also I’m sure Brendon wouldn’t mind a sleepover!”
“B-but my dad will be really mad if he finds out I left and I’m not there.” Tears slowly welled up in his eyes.
“Ryan, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. May I have your dad’s number? I’ll tell him you're staying at ours, then I will have to tell the police, okay?” Mrs Urie had her mind set on this, it was extremely wrong to do this to a kid. What a monster he must be. Ryan just leaned his head on Brendon’s shoulder, occasionally lifting his hand to wipe his tears away.
They silently unbuckled their seatbelts and made their way inside the house. Brendon led Ryan upstairs to the bathroom and got a spare toothbrush out for him.
“Uh Brendon, I don’t have any clothes to sleep in,” Immediately after, he went to get clothes for him. He grabbed shorts and a baggy hoodie. Ryan took the clothes from Brendon and muttered a small thanks.
“You can get changed in here, I’ll go to my room.” Giving him a little smile, he exited the room.
A few minutes later, Ryan was ready for bed. He stared confused at the floor; oh great, there’s only one bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor, Bren?” His heart fluttered at the thought of a nickname. Brendon blushed before clearing his throat.
“Oh no, I don’t mind you sleeping in my bed! It’s massive anyway,” He awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Ryan slowly crawled into bed next to Brendon. He clicked off the bedside light and snuggled down into his pillow. “Night Ry,” Ryan felt his cheeks heat up and glow red with the simple nickname. No one ever made him feel this way, what emotion even was this? He couldn’t quite figure it out; he copied Brendon’s previous movement and fell into a calm slumber.
-
The next morning, Ryan awoke with an extra warm sensation to one side of him. It seemed that Brendon had attached himself in his sleep. He wasn’t complaining, it was quite relaxing. He reached over to his phone on the oak table. His eyes squinted as the bright screen flashed violently. Brendon stirred in his sleep as Ryan took a few pictures on his phone. He could tell Brendon was waking up, his deep snoring stopped and he was constantly moving. Eventually he ended up with his head on Ryan’s chest, Brendon rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“Morning Ryan, sorry for kind of sleeping on you,” He let out a content sigh and grabbed a bottle of water. Ryan stretched out his long arms and sat up.
“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” He grinned and headed to brush his teeth. Brendon quickly did the same thing, after proposing the idea of pancakes. Ryan eagerly agreed as he leaped down the stairs.
They sat together on the couch with the white noise of the television buzzing in their ears. After they had finished their pancakes, they shared memes on their phone and had a normal chat. Brendon’s mom interrupted them with an idea. “Y’know you guys could go out today!” Ryan quickly accepted the idea with a cheerful nod. Brendon exchanged glances with him as they decided upon a final decision. “There’s lovely restaurants in the town centre, I’ll give you some money boys.”
“Oh, It’s okay Mrs Urie. You don’t have to give me any money; you’ve done more than enough by letting me stay here.”
“Don’t be silly,” She chucked, “having your company is lovely, I don’t mind giving you money!” Mrs Urie smiled as she handed Ryan $50.
“Let’s go get ready then!” Brendon grinned as he excitedly ran upstairs. “I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” He shouted. Ryan flinched at the loud shouting, growing up he always hated shouting, even before his dad started to abuse him. His dad would usually have screaming wars with his mom; no matter what, it would end in his mom crying and Ryan trying his best to comfort her. He was only young, he couldn't do much about it.
Twenty minutes had passed, they were both completely ready and went out. “Mom! We’re going now,” He yelled, waiting for his mother’s response.
“Okay, remember to be safe!” Mrs Urie scrambled to grab her phone as they left. She dialled the police’s number to tell them about Ryan’s dad. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hello ma'am, what are you calling us for?” They answered; she went on to explain about his situation (In extreme detail) for almost an hour straight.
“Thanks for your report, we’ll send the police around there now and hopefully remove any harmful substances from the house.”
“Thank you so much, goodbye.” With that being said, they hung up and presumably got to work.
Brendon and Ryan were in the town centre now; they walked the streets together, hands occasionally grazing each other. They eventually entered a small restaurant tucked in the corner of a street. Two lengthy hours sharing conversation and eating lunch.
Once they had finished their meals, Brendon had called the waiter over and paid for the food.
“How about we head to the restroom quickly and then go home?” He suggested with a small smile on his face as he admired Ryan. He replied with a mini nod and smiled back at him.
Brendon was washing his hands in the marble sink as Ryan stared at him. He grabbed a few paper towels, drying his hands off. Straight after, they left the restaurant, feeling content.
“That was a really good meal!” Ryan beamed but was abruptly cut off by a man in all black + a mask attack Brendon. He was put in a headlock and had a gun put to his head; it wasn’t a busy street and the restaurant windows were tinted. No one would see.
“GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!” The man barked. Brendon whimpered as he couldn’t reach his pockets and stared at Ryan for help. He proceeded to punch the man square in the face. He couldn’t stand to watch Brendon be hurt any longer.
“Fuck off; don’t ever threaten us again.” Ryan growled as he scrammed. Brendon had tears in his eyes, frozen in shock. He engulfed him in a hug, Brendon only responded by resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder.
He rubbed his back and sighed. They stayed like that for a good minute until Ryan cupped his cheeks and wiped his glistening tears away. Their eyes were locked onto each other as they breathed deeply. Brendon slowly leaned closer and just before he could pull away; Ryan’s lips collided with Brendon’s. It was a sweet caring kiss, nothing but care and affection.
A moment was spent with Brendon longingly looking into Ryan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, Brendon pulls back and pushes him away, a new-found rage filling his pupils.
“Ryan, boys can’t love boys,” He said as he ran away, shouting at Ryan to not follow him.
The bus was due in 3 minutes.
Brendon ran like his life depended on it; his lungs felt as if they were collapsing. His feet were on fire, he finally reached the bus stop just as it arrived. The bus hissed as the air brakes were being used. The double doors swung open as Brendon eagerly ran inside and raced to the back of the bus.
His hands traced designs on the polyester fabric of the bus seats. Thoughts raced through his mind at a 1000mph. Brendon couldn’t get Ryan out of his head. Every thought or idea was centred around him.
Shit.
He didn’t like Ryan. He couldn’t! His mum simply would disown him, she’s the most religious person he’d ever met. She would NEVER let Brendon see Ryan again. But, did Brendon actually have feelings for him?
The way his stomach gets butterflies whenever he thinks of him. The way a light dusty blush brushes his cheeks whenever they touch. The way he admired every movement Ryan made.
Fuck. He wasn’t just simply in love. He was head over heels. He had to tell someone, it had to be Ryan.
His mind wandered, taking him back to a time where his mother had a strong point of view.
~ Flashback ~
“Brendon! Pay attention, young man,” His mother disciplined as he played with his shoe laces.
“Sorry,” He muttered, turning his attention to the boring pastor. The pastor was talking about being homosexual, he didn’t appear to have a very fond opinion of it. Brendon’s mom was so brainwashed by him, she fully believed his opinion on homosexuality was right. It wasn’t; everyone should be accepted for who they are.
In the end, her views were so extreme that homosexuality is the reason they moved. She’d found out that there was quite a few homosexual kids at his school and refused to stay there.
~ End of flashback ~
Brendon had come to a realisation, he was bisexual. Even though his current love interest was a man, he had felt sexual attraction to women as well.
The bus came to a halt. He rushed out of the musty bus and raced to his house. He needed to make things right, but first he needed to know Ryan was ok.
Swinging open the door, he shouted for his mother. “MOM!” He yelled in a frightened tone.
“What is wrong? Where’s Ryan?” Brendon felt a sickening sensation form in his stomach at the small mention of the boy.
Ryan sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, tears flew down his face as he thought of Brendon. How could he just ditch him like that? He thought that Brendon was there for him after the incident with his dad. Oh, that was another thing to sob about. His shitty father. Why did he have to end up like this? Ryan reminisced on all his memories with his mother, tears increasing their quantity.
He did know one thing that would make him feel better. He knew it wasn’t the best solution, but it would put a temporary stop to his emotion. Cutting himself, that's all he could think to do. The sky had dimmed, now being a dusky grey. Ryan shuffled down the alleyway and yanked the shiny, metal blade out of his pocket. His hands roamed to pull his sleeve up. A few cuts, that's all he needed. He couldn’t seem to stop.
Ruby blood pooled around him and darkness overcame him.
“Mom, I left Ryan in the town centre. We had a slight argument,” Brendon whimpered. He curled up into a ball on the floor and weeped. “Please, go get him,” He pleaded.
Mrs Urie nodded and responded in a soothing voice, “Ok dear, you go upstairs and calm yourself down!” She exited through the front door and started up her car. Brendon dragged his body upstairs and flopped onto his comforting bed, recollection of cuddling up to Ryan washes over him.
After a while, she arrived at her destination. She glanced around the restaurant, Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Un popping her pocket, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket.
To Brendon:
Hey, is (restaurant name) where you went? I can’t s-
Her typing was cut off by her view being attached to a boy in the alleyway. Hurriedly, she scrambled over to him, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. It was Ryan.
“Ryan,” she called out, “I’ve come to get you!”
No response. Dead silence. The blood glimmered in the dull street lights.
“Oh my…” She gasped. Mrs Urie picked up Ryan in her arms and ran as fast as she could to the car.
She frantically propped his body against the leather seats. Her hands rummaged in the back of the car for her first aid kit. A green bag was quickly opened, strings of bandages were pulled out.
Slowly, stretchy bandages were wrapped around Ryan’s wrist, she applied firm pressure as it soaked up his blood. His limp body was put into a more comfortable position, buckling up their seatbelts, she started the car.
Ryan stirred in his slumber, his eyes soon adjusted to the colourful street lights.
“Mrs Urie?” He earned a small gasp out of her mouth.
Shocked and stunned, she replied, “Yes Ryan?”
“Where are you taking me?” He said with his eyebrows knitted into a confused expression.
“Just back to my house,” She said with a friendly smile on her face. She pondered for a moment, then got the courage to express her thoughts. “What happened between you and Bren?”
Several tears were appearing in his eyes, just at the simple mention of the boy. Gosh, he really was in love. It was just a shame his gay realisation had to be so tragic.
Eventually, he spoke up, “Uh, I kissed Brendon,”
“YOU WHAT!” She screeched.
“I don’t even know! It just felt right at the time…” He trailed off.
“You and Brendon are seriously in for it when we arrive at home! And do not even THINK about texting him to warn him!” She scolded. Ryan sat silently for the rest of the ride; he wished the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole.
They arrived and to say Ryan was horrified was an understatement. His hands were shaking and his eyes were threatening to spill tears.
“BRENDON! GET HERE NOW!” She squawked. Brendon knew that he was in for it. By the tone of her voice, reminding him of his father, Ryan grew more anxious.
Thundering steps boomed down the staircase as Brendon came rushing down. His eyes bulged out of his head; as he looked at Ryan, a panicked expression spread across his face.
“What happened Ryan?” He blurted with a soft, worried voice.
“You! You don’t care about me,” Ryan yelled, emotion loud in his voice. Brendon stared at him in shock, he felt as if a piece of his heart shattered into a billion pieces.
“Ryan, listen to me!” He pleaded, but Ryan slammed the door and ran to their bathroom. Brendon thought that Ryan hated him; little did he know, Ryan was going through the exact same thought process.
Ryan curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tears didn’t just fall, they were crashing around him. He thought back on wanting the world to swallow him up; he realised he was just suppressing his feelings. Ryan was suicidal.
He balled his fist up and shoved them inside his denim jacket pockets. Something cold pressed against his knuckles.
The blade.
Resisting wasn’t an option, he was overcome with an extreme need. A need his mind said he must fulfil.
However, he found his wrist wasn’t enough this time. He needed more. More blood. More thrill.
More pain.
This urgency for more resulted in him slitting his throat. First, only starting off with small cuts, blood rushing to the surface, but not dribbling onto his skin. The emotion had gotten so intense, he began to cut deeper. Blood rushed down his neck, ruining his shirt and occasionally dripping onto his jacket.
Ryan had started to feel light-headed. He stumbled around the bathroom; fuck, how was he meant to hide this scar. Before even taking any protocols into consideration, he began to clean up. Brendon didn’t have anything to clean cuts with. Of course he didn’t, what was Ryan thinking?
Carefully, his freezing hands pressed the paper towel against his neck. Sucking in a breath - caused by the pain - as it began to sting.
Why didn’t his attempt work? All he wanted was to be gone, he’d thought there was nothing else left for him on Earth. He might as well just die. He thought he was pathetic, that's what drove his passion for pain.
A knock came from the old, creaky door.
“Ryan,” Brendon said firmly. Ryan’s heart leapt out of his chest, he couldn’t face Brendon, at least not now. Quickly, he wiped his teardrops away and tried to steady his voice.
“Yes?” Ryan said, his voice slightly shaky from previous events.
“Come out, please…” His tone was hopeful; all he wanted was for Ryan to come out of the bathroom.
Ryan choked back his tears as he examined his neck in the mirror. “I can’t,” Ryan thought carefully about his response, but nothing was a good enough reason.
“I promise I don’t hate you…” Brendons voice trailed off before he continued. “I actually have some, uh, complicated feelings. I'd like to talk to you about it. But only if it’s alright with you!” He took a huge gulp, awaiting the other boy's reply.
No reply was made. Ryan lowered his head into his knees; he’d never been this bad. He let everything get to him, every comment, every action and most importantly everything. Some things (or people) are better off being shut out.
“I’m coming in Ryan; I can tell you're not okay,” Brendon waited for any final reponses. Finally, he turned the door knob with his hand.
He was speechless, bloody tissues and more cuts on his wrist. But, he hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. Brendon sat opposite Ryan.
He rubbed Ryan’s shoulder comfortingly. He was waiting for some form of eye contact; looking to find meaning and emotion in his eyes. Any form of communication would work, a sign even!
Ryan pricked his head up. Brendons breathing faltered as he saw his neck. Hundreds of thoughts ran through both their minds.
Suddenly, a harsh slap was delivered to Brendon from Ryan. It was all too overwhelming for him. His brain was shutting down and he wasn’t thinking straight.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Ryan raised his voice.
“FOR FUCKS SAKE! RYAN, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!” Brendon felt his eyes rapidly well up.
“Well. Maybe I don’t want your help!” He said, quite a bit quieter this time.
“Clearly, you need someone's help! You can’t go a single fucking day without cutting yourself,” He muttered, Brendon was extremely pissed off by now. He had never been in a situation like this; all he yearned to do was help. Help the special person in his life.
Brendon realised that he shouldn’t have said that, he could’ve just ruined their (complicated) relationship completely. He seemed to snap out of his thoughts when Ryan was sobbing.
Brendon did that. He realised he made Ryan this sad.
“I’m so sorry Ryan, I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean it,” He apologised, Ryan meant so much to him. How could he do that to him?
“Go away,” Ryan sniffled. “I hate you,” He wept. Brendon knew he didn’t actually mean it. Even Ryan knew he didn’t mean it. Ryan had also come to the realisation that he did in fact need help.
Brendon stayed sat opposite him. He was lost for words; he had no idea what to do. He stayed silent, wishing that Ryan would say something first.
Fortunately, his wish came true. Ryan finally spoke up after what felt like an hour of silence - in reality it was less than a minute.
“Bren,” His cheeks dusted a pink shade at the pet name. “I need help,” He said and took a gulp of courage.
Brendon took Ryan’s hand in his hand. “Y’know I’d get you any help you needed,” He told him, maintaining a calm eye contact.
“All I need is you,” Ryan sighed softly; finding a sudden surge of confidence. Their eyes were like gravitational pulls towards each other; not leaving their view.
Brendon pulled Ryan into a deep, passionate kiss. Breath slightly shaky as their lips parted.
“When I left, I realised that I’m in love with you…” Brendon blurted. His cheeks burned a bright pink hue.
“I guess it’s true,” Ryan snickered, the other boy just stared, confused.
“What?” He questioned, trying to think of the answer, mind blanking.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”
—
A/N That is the end of this oneshot! Hope you enjoyed it! Fun fact: this was based off of something I wrote in class :p
#ryan ross#panic! at the disco#pre split panic#pre split patd#patd#ryan patd#brendon urie#beebo#ryro#brendon patd#angst with a happy ending#light angst#fluff#fiction#writers on tumblr#wattpad#fanfic#fanfiction
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Oh hey cool, thanks @cyanide-sodapop
Name: Katelyn
Pronouns: she/her
Star sign: taurus
Number of siblings: three
Number of pets: zero unfortunately :(
Fandoms: Taylor Swift, Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, and The Aquabats. Mostly Taylor and Aquabats right now.
Favorite colours: sunset colours!
Favorite song: ME! by Taylor Swift and Brendon Urie
Favorite author: skip because I don't have an answer
Hobbies: music, daydreaming (yes that counts) and birdwatching.
Favorite fic type: fluffy oneshots usually
Favorite holiday: Christmas!
Partners: no.
Fun facts about me!
1. I need glasses to see far away, but I can't see anything up close when I'm wearing them.
2. I want a cat 🥺
3. I'm homeschooled
4. I'm better at writing than speaking
5. I like getting up at 6:00 in the morning
Thank you!
I got bored so here's a little get-to-know-you tag game I think could be fun :3
Name(s)
Pronouns
Star sign
# of siblings & fun facts about them (if you have any)
# of pets & their names
Fandoms
Favorite color
Favorite song
Favorite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!)
Hobbies
Favorite fic type
Favorite holiday
Do you have any partner(s)? (romantic, qpp, anything!)
Fun facts about you / anything extra you wanna share!
────────
Name(s): Loki (highly preferred), Elye
Pronouns : they/them mostly, he/she okay too
Star sign: Pisces
# of siblings: I've got 2! An older sister and a younger sibling. The fun fact about them is that they're also both queer; in fact, my mom is too. The only non-queer person in my immediate family is my dad.
# of pets: 4 cats! Phoebe & Frankie are our girls, Lenny and Murray are our boys :3
Fandoms: MCU (kind of), BSD, OFMD, Ranboo (does his fanbase count as a fandom?)
Fav. color: Don't have one
Fav. song: Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon
Fav. author: Alice Oseman
Hobbies: singing, acting, drawing, writing, procrastinating
Fav. fic type: Fluff, definitely. I am a sucker for well written coffee-shop and flower-shop aus, too. Smut's fine, but only if it's romantic. I can't do angst if there's no comfort.
Fav. Holiday: Hanukkah or Halloween! I love autumn and winter
Partners?: Yes! I have a girlfriend (queerplatonic) who I love very much, and a boyfriend (romantic) who I love very much :]
Fun facts:
- Even though I'm a cat person, I really, really want a dog.
- I actually used to play sports. Because I don't do gendered leagues anymore, I don't play, but I've been looking for mixed/gender-neutral/queer sports teams. Baseball and basketball specifically!
- I started questioning my identity in 2019; I'm no closer to finding a label now than I was then. The difference is, now I don't want a label. I just am. :]
tags: @neonganymede @cha0ticlesbian @x-chiara @exceleo @brinnybee @autistic-katara @gandalfthemorallygrey @ohboyanotherlokiblog @roachandrenfri @ourflagmeanslokius @exceleo @edettethegreat @swiftlyspidey
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This was a request in my DM’s and I took a little time with it because I try to be really careful with writing mental health things, especially when it’s not something I’ve often experienced. Mostly, I just went off their request and description, and did not take much creative liberty. All this being said, I think this might require a TW? Very mental health centric, discusses not eating due to stress, etc...
Here is a GIF of Brendon being cute that has nothing to do with the story, so enjoy.
You had been very open with Brendon about your mental health from the get-go, as was he with his own, and he was well aware of what happened when you became too overwhelmed. Unfortunately, because you absolutely hated pouring your problems out for him to deal with, he usually didn’t know when it was happening to you. You always tried to carry everything yourself, hiding your struggles and stresses from him and for the most part, you succeeded. Brendon hated that you would never let him help you, but he didn’t want to push.
Today, everything had just become too much all at once, and you could feel yourself shutting down. You felt sick. You hadn’t been eating much lately because you were so stressed, you’d been drinking little to no water, and overall just not taking care of yourself. You knew you weren’t okay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything about it. You laid down in your shared bed, hoping that taking a break from working on your latest project would help you get back on track. You stared blankly at the ceiling, you couldn’t even cry. Everything was just numb. You really didn’t know how long you had been there, nor did you hear or realize it when Brendon arrived home and began calling your name. He finally finds you laying on the bed, and rushes over.
“Baby? What happened?” He said softly, as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. You wouldn’t look at him, you just shook your head and kept your eyes locked on the fan in the center of the ceiling. You feel him grab your hand in his and squeeze it.
“Baby, Angel, please talk to me. I just want to help you, please let me help you.” He said, his voice breaking slightly. You still weren’t looking, but you could hear that he was about to cry. You knew he was scared, he’d confessed this to you in the past when this happened. That was one of the reasons you didn’t like to push your problems on him, you hated seeing him upset, and especially upset because of you.
He speaks again, and you hear that he’s speaking, but your brain just blocks it out.
He sighs, knowing you aren’t ready to speak yet, and lays down next to you after a few moments of your silence. His hand finds yours again and he holds it tight.
Eventually, you tear your eyes from the ceiling and look over at him, and see that his are still glossy.
“Hi. Are you ready to tell me what’s been going on up there?” He asks, and you know from his tone that he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He’s genuinely asking if you’re ready. You shake your head no.
“Ok. That’s ok. Can I just hold you for a bit then?”
He knows eventually you’ll be able to talk to him, but for now he’s being patient and understands that this is what you can handle right now.
You nod, and he opens his arms up for you. You don’t move, so he grabs you and pulls you into him. Your ear is pressed to his chest, and you can hear his heart beating steadily.
He rhythmically strokes his hand up and down your back, as he thinks only of how he wishes he could make you feel better. He absentmindedly kisses the top of your head a few times, but mostly you just lay there with his hand on your back, focusing on breathing.
After a little while, he feels a teardrop land on his chest, then more, and he cranes his neck back a bit to look at you. You make eye contact and the look in his eyes is all it takes for you to completely break. He looks so sad and scared and it breaks your heart into pieces. Heaving sobs wrack your body as Brendon holds you tightly, telling you it’s okay, he's here, and he’s got you. This was truthfully what he had been waiting for, because he knows he can help you through it now that he got you out of your trance.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you.” you sob, over and over again.
His heart breaks, hearing you plead for his forgiveness like this when, in his mind, there was nothing to forgive. He just holds you and continues whispering reassurances in your ear for a while, until you finally begin to calm down. You sniffle as he rubs your back soothingly, and you reach to wipe the tears soaking your face, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You sit up, and so does he. You look him in the eyes again. He no longer looked so scared, which you’re glad about.
“Welcome back. Are you okay?” He asks softly, knowing the truth.
You nod at first, quietly squeaking out “yeah, I’m fine.”
He gives you a look, and you change your answer.
“I’m not okay” you whisper.
“I know you aren’t, angel. What can I do to help you? You know I’ll do anything. Please just tell me what’s been going on with you.” He asks, moving a piece of hair behind your ear. You sigh, knowing you wouldn’t be able to push it under the rug and hide from him any longer.
“Everything is just so hard right now. I feel like I’m pushing you and all my friends away, all I do is work and it’s been hell, nothing’s going right and I just- it’s so hard. I feel like shit. I’m sorry. I hate telling you this stuff because I don’t want you to get upset or hurt your feelings. I know I scare you, I’m so sorry.” you finally confess.
“Oh baby,” he whispers, pulling you back into him for a hug as he continues. “Please don’t apologize, I always want you to know that you can tell me anything, no matter what. The thing that hurts my feelings is when you don’t think you can talk to me. I’M sorry if I EVER made you feel like you couldn’t. I love you, I want to help you, and I want to take care of you, but I can’t do that when you keep everything bottled up in that beautiful head of yours until we end up here.” He says as he hugs you, kissing the top of your head.
“I know. I’m sorry.” You tell him.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, love. Just know that I’m here for you, okay? Always come to me before it gets too bad so I can help?”
“Okay. I love you so much.” You whisper.
He gently places a finger under your chin and kisses you softly. It was short but sweet, and it was what you needed to ground you in the moment.
He cups your cheeks in his hand as you look into his soft eyes.
“I love you so much too. I’m making a promise. My promise to you is to try harder to notice when you’re getting stressed, will you promise you’ll open up a little more to me?”
You nod as best as you can with your face still in his hands and tell him you promise.
“Good. Seal it with a kiss?” He says, a small smile now on his face.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re just using this as an excuse to kiss me again.”
His smile grows larger now.
“Guilty, now come here my love”
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Angels and Demons
Characters: Brendon Urie x Reader
Summary: After being broken up with Brendon for a while, he decided to provide some closure.
Words: 1593
Warnings: Angst, cursing, and a sad ending
A/N: First Brendon fic on here :) I apologize for the very vague details about how it ended between Reader and Brendon, but I felt like it was appropriate because there are a lot of things that could’ve went down, so I’ll leave it to your imagination. LIKES, REBLOGGING, AND FEEDBACK ARE ALL ENCOURAGED AND VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!
It’d been the third time you felt like you were being followed that week. Earlier that week, you were strolling through the mall and you saw the same man in a black hoodie behind you every time you turned around. He reminded you of the man you once loved, the two sharing a similar build, similar style, and that same ivory skin. You brushed it off, concluding that you were acting delusional and you left it alone. A couple of days later, you’d finished putting your groceries in your car when you saw a very familiar car parked a few spots away from you. You began to grow fairly suspicious, for this particular car looked exactly like his red 1972 Chevrolet Impala convertible. This was a dead giveaway, but once again, you brushed it off, deciding-hoping-that this would be the last time you’d have to deal with it. You were wrong.
You exited your house to go on a run, hoping that it would clear your mind from the troubles the day had brought you. You discovered that the promotion you were working towards for four months was given to the former intern, who was now the personal assistant of your boss. The new assistant had worn skimpy skirts and revealing blazers each day, so you were sure that their relationship was far from professional. Adding onto that, your computer decided to reboot halfway through the day, which forced you to document everything through paper until your computer was finally useful, and to put the cherry on top of the wonderful cone of bad luck you had that day, one of your co-workers had spilled coffee down your favorite work shirt.
As if the universe was finally giving you some mercy, your run was peaceful. To your surprise, nothing went wrong in the half hour you spent jogging around your community. It was the first time that day you felt your mood increase, but those thirty minutes of bliss were rudely interrupted when you saw him parked ten feet away from your house.
Jogging towards your house, your eyes met with his slender figure, dressed in a simple, white t-shirt and his signature black jeans that were always ripped at the knees. He was leaned against his red convertible, hands comfortably resting in his front pockets as he looked around through his dark, boxed sunglasses.
At this sight you stopped in your tracks, immediately shifting your weight to one legs and crossing your arms over your chest. You scoffed in disbelief, shaking your head when he sat up from the car, straightened his posture, and stalked over to you.
“You know, I didn’t want to believe that it was you following me around this whole week, but who else, other than the infamous Brendon Urie, would?” you spat, not moving a centimeter from your stance when his masculine frame grew closer to your much smaller body.
“You’re an intelligent person, Y/N. I knew you’d catch on.” You rolled your eyes, making sure your annoyance was visible in his line of sight. “What do you want, Brendon?”
“I just wanna talk, darling. That’s all.” Brendon pushed a strand of your hair away from your face, the cold from his hand transferring to your heated skin as his hand lingered. He spoke like his words were honey, and as long as you could remember, he’s always kept up this suave facade.
“Don’t ‘darling’ me,” you sneered, slapping his hand away from your face. “A normal ex-boyfriend would send a text or call, not stalk them until they got the message.”
“Oh, Y/N. You know far too well that I’m anything but normal. Besides, there’s no fun in that.”
“What do you really want?” you deadpanned, feeling beyond tired of his antics.
“How’ve you been?” he questioned, cocking his head to the right. You narrowed your eyes, your brows seeming to furrow on their own as you felt hot steam blow out of your ears.
“Seriously? ‘How’ve you been?’” you fumed.
“Yeah.” he replied nonchalantly, mirroring your stance by crossing the arms of his own. You laughed in amusement, not being able to comprehend the intentions of the cold-hearted man standing before you.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?” you mused. “Why the fuck do you care, huh?”
“I get why you’re mad, Y/N, but you have to believe that I still love you,” he reasoned, dropping the illusion of his unbothered state and revealing his true emotions. But you weren’t having it.
“Oh, really? You love me?” you challenged, maintaining your tough exterior. “Is that right?”
“Look, I came here to explain. Everything I did was to protect you.”
“Well, that’s precious. You ended our two-year relationship through a text with no explanation and disappeared for five months, leaving me all alone to wonder what I did wrong for you to leave me. You fucking broke me, Brendon. Is that your twisted way of protecting me? Is that what love is to you?” You felt your pent-up anger and your boiling blood flow through your veins as your balled your fists at your sides. You’d failed to keep your cool, but you knew that there was no way you’d be able to.
Brendon chuckled low beneath his breath, feeling the deep waves of his voice rumble inside of you. You began to feel traces of distress pervade throughout your body, causing your arms to shiver and leaving the tips of your fingers cold.
“Love comes in various forms. It’s not a force to take lightly, darling.” Brendon purred, tilting your chin up with his thumb and his pointer finger. Meeting the deep hue of his chocolate brown eyes, you found yourself melting into his touch. You brought yourself back to reality, remembering all the hurt he brought upon you, and you snapped your head to the right, releasing yourself from his grasp. Brendon grinned sinisterly at your reaction, and he smoothly backed himself into the red convertible.
“They say that those in the vulnerable state of love perform the unorthodox. Sounds bizarre, doesn’t it? I mean, you’d think that love would bring out the best in people.” He placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning over it as he gazed into the setting sun.
“Doing that to you, hurting you like that, was far from easy. Making that decision took far more than the tempestuous journey I thought it would. You weren’t the only one left broken because of it.”
“Then why, Brendon?” you pleaded. “Why did you do it?”
He sighed, taking his gaze away from the sky and focusing it on you, burning his eyes into yours. “You see, some people are devious. They make it seem like they’re completely and utterly innocuous. They’re dangerous, because when you strip them entirely of their exterior shell, you see the frightening reality. You see them for who they really are.”
“Through the mesmerizing jewels you call your eyes, I was perfect. Flawless. There wasn’t anything I did that could pull you away from me until I did what I did.” Brendon, a man with ivory for skin and a mane of black locks smiled at the thought, for he found it impossible, humorous even, to perceive himself with such superiority.
“It terrified me, Y/N. It fucking terrified me. Knowing that you saw me that way, that you loved me for it… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let myself pretend to be the mere caricature of what you believed you saw in me. I’m nothing close to who you thought I was.”
“Brendon… What are you talking about?” You begged, slowly stepping closer to the man in front of you. Even after everything that happened, all the pain, confusion, and heartbreak he caused, you still felt a surge of love pouring through you. You couldn’t help but become mesmerized at the sight of him. The deep hue in his eyes showing nothing but affection and care, the sheer fabric of his shirt dancing against his toned body as the wind breezed by, and the way his pink, plump lips pursed together as the wrinkles formed between his eyebrows in distress.
“I’ve tried, Y/N. In the two years we were together, I strived to be the man you deserved, but in the end, it was just simply impractical. Hell, there isn’t a man on Earth worthy enough, because you deserve all the good in the world, Y/N. All the fucking good on this godforsaken planet.”
“No, you were all I wanted, Brendon. You were everything to me, I didn’t need anything else. You gave me all the love and the happiness and… I still love you.” You confessed, tears having a mind of their own as they streamed down your cheeks. An overwhelming rush of pain mixed with love and confusion penetrated through your heart as a sob racked through your body, and your knees buckled, your helpless body pulling to the ground beneath you.
“I’ve always loved you, Y/N, ever since the moment I saw you.” Brendon whispered, kneeling next to you and pulling you into his chest, rubbing your arms as a way to soothe the intensity of your emotions.
“But I’m not what you need. I’m far from being the man you deserve, and because of this, for your sake, I withdrew myself. I left you because, to me, someone with the purity and the wholesomeness of an angel from heaven above should never love someone who was darkened by the demons themselves.”
#brendon urie#brendon patd#panic! at the brendon#brendon#brendon! at the disco#brendon boyd urie#brendon urie oneshot#brendon urie imagine#brendon urie angst#panic! at the disco#panic! at the beebo#panic! fandom#panic! atd#patd imagine#patd#panic! at the disco imagine#panic! at the disco oneshot#panic! at the disco angst#brendon urie x reader#brendon urie x y/n#brendon urie x you
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On a Desk
Day 7 of @brendons-sugar-soaker’s 30-day smut challenge and a Sheets Day addendum
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Save me.
The text is followed quickly by three more.
I’m in office.
Business call.
Need you.
Brendon hates these calls; he hates the financial and administrative details of touring. He hates even more that he’s a bit of a control freak, so he can’t even peacefully pass it off to someone else. It’s a double-edged sword, his dedication, and he knows it. You’ve found a pretty good solution though; during these calls, you typically sit on his desk, scrolling through the Panic tour tag on various platforms. You show him fan reactions, their giddy and grateful tweets, their photo compilations, anything that reminds him why he has to sit through these calls: to get back on stage, to be with his friends, his essentially-extended family, his fans.
You know what your husband needs; you know what he’s expecting. But today, you have a different distraction in mind. You study the lingerie— the push-up bustier, the basically-nonexistent sheer lace panties, the garter belt, the high stockings, and even his favorite heels— everything you’ve thrown on in the full-length mirror, nodding. This should work.
You slip into his office; Brendon glances up, and his mouth falls open while his eyes behind his glasses widen. As you linger in the doorway, he rolls his chair back from the desk so you can watch him get hard and strain against his sweatpants. He makes it too easy, you think to yourself. You love him so fucking much.
You tiptoe over, and he gives you a wary look. He knows you’ve got a plan, and he’s clearly very torn on how he feels about it. On the one hand, he’s doing his best to concentrate on the call. But on the other hand, his jaw is tight, he’s gripping his cock through his sweatpants, and his hand is twitching with desire.
You perch on his desk in front of him, and you think he gets the idea, but you want to be sure. You spread your legs to show him how wet you are, and he has to choke back a moan. “No,” Brendon mouths at you when he’s recovered, but you can see he’s trying not to grin. “Absolutely not.”
You say nothing; you just spread your legs wider and lean back a little. You raise one eyebrow, bite your lower lip, and he reads the challenge there. He shakes his head, giving you a stern look and gesturing at the AirPods. You still say nothing, but you let your heels rest on his armrests. You’re spread wide for him now, wetness on full display. Brendon is working hard to not stare, fighting the urge to run his fingers over the silky stockings that you only break out when he’s been very good, or you’re feeling very bad.
You have one last card to play, but you’re reasonably confident it’ll break him. Lazily, you bring a hand between your thighs and start teasing your clit through the wet lace. Just short, rolling strokes, but every so often you let your fingers slip lower, pressing. You rub back against them, sighing happily.
His eyes are dark, his cock is throbbing in his sweatpants, and he cannot keep his eyes off of you.
You offer him your fingers, and he rushes to mute the mic on his call. You know you have to time this right; you let his tongue just brush your fingertips before you pull them back. He’s confused and frustrated, chest rising and falling and one hand is running through his hair. Instead of letting him suck your fingers clean, you slip them inside your underwear and slide them in deep. Arching in pleasure like this offers him better access to your breasts, even if they are contained and pushed up high in the silk bustier he ordered as a surprise for you and present for you both.
He takes the opportunity, burying his face in your cleavage, and you bring both hands to the back of his head. He’s nibbling and sucking, moaning a little as you tug at his hair, and you’re glad he’s muted his mic because you’re both loud when his fingers finally fill you. You don’t need your fingers anymore, so you offer them to him— sincere this time. He sucks greedily, gratefully, and his own fingers speed up, spreading and pressing and stroking.
You can faintly hear the call, and you’re pretty sure someone just said his name. They repeat it, and he lurches back from you, unmuting himself and trying to piece together a response that makes sense. Even though his mouth has abandoned your fingers, his fingers have not abandoned your body. He’s vigilant, rubbing internally right where he knows you love, and you’re using all of your self-control not to gasp or squeal.
No, that won’t work,” he says suddenly. “We tried driving that last time and it was miserable. Those two shows each need to be hotel nights.” A pause, and he grins at you. “Yes, I understand that means increasing the sheets budget. I’m aware.” Another pause. “Well, figure it out. That’s your job.” With his free hand, he reaches down inside his sweatpants and adjusts his erection. Now instead of jutting forward, he’s pressed it flat to his stomach and is using the waistband of his sweatpants to hold it in place.
You wrap your legs around him, urging him closer, and he steps forward readily, mouthing lust-laden profanities at you when you start grinding against his cock. Between the lace of your underwear and the thick fabric of his sweatpants, the friction is insanely good. He presses a hand to the small of your back, and you’re muffling yourself as you realize that shifting your hips the way he’s urging puts new pressure on your clit. “I’m gonna come,” you mouth, and his head tips back, the silent groan obvious and his cock pulsing against you.
He looks indecisive for a split second, but then he mutes the call again. His mouth is on yours, both hands are yanking your underwear down, and you don’t even care when you hear it rip. He tosses the soaked lace aside, shoves his pants down, his tongue still exploring your mouth. You groan into his embrace when he thrusts in hard, and you drag your nails across his back as your entire body jolts, tightening around him.
He’s still deep inside you, no longer thrusting, but his mouth is on your neck, suckling and biting. It’s making you thrash against him, gasp breathless gratitude, and spread your legs further so his thumb on your clit has room to circle and stroke.
“Come for me, baby,” he pants against your neck. “Come all over my cock, come like this with my cock buried in you, come for me, sweetheart.” His thumb presses slightly and you shriek his name as your world explodes and vision goes sparkly. “Fuck,” he spits, and for a moment you think it’s over how hard you came. You’re confused; he normally loves when you let go like that for him. But then he’s pulling out until just the head of his cock presses into you and unmuting the call.
“No, no, I agree,” he’s saying, breathing slowly and trying to not sound like he’s got his wife on his cock, squirming and silently pleading with big eyes. “No, you’re absolutely right. You’re right. With Covid, with everything— no, it’s irresponsible to— yeah, exactly, the,” his thumb moves over the bite marks he’s left on your neck. “The eager ones. Licking me. Touching me. I can’t— no, you’re right, the Death Walk needs to go.”
You’re nodding eagerly; you know he loves to be close to his fans, but that’s always made you out of your mind with worry. And then when the licking and touching started, you were admittedly out of your mind with fury.
“Can we, I don’t know, design something else? Let me walk around still, just not…through them?” He pauses, waits for the others on the call to take over, and nods decisively as he mutes again.
“Good,” you groan, clawing at his arms as he starts thrusting again. “Know you liked getting to see them but I fucking hated that shit.”
“I know, baby,” he murmurs, grabbing at your hips and pulling you closer. “I know. It won’t happen this time. It can’t.” His fingers flex, he’s rocking into you harder, and you wrap your legs around his waist, high over his hips, so he can take you at a deeper angle and still play with your clit.
You can feel him throbbing in you; you know he’s close. His eyes are intense on yours, his mouth only forming your name and blissed out obscenities, and his plunging thrusts are faster, rougher. “Goddamnit,” he hisses as he reaches for the ‘unmute’ button, and you laugh a little desperately. He normally likes edging, but this is absurd.
“What?” You’re sure everyone can hear the tension in his voice. “You’re joking.” He pauses, mouthing to you, “Beer.” You know you look confused.
“They complained?”
A long pause.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s free advertising for Coors! What? Oh, for fuck’s sake, we don’t need to talk about this. Give me a goddamn koozie or something and let me have my goddamn beer.”
You know you shouldn’t be enjoying his frustration, but his thumb is moving in rough circles on your clit while his thrusts have paused and you think you could come again.
He presses a hand to your back and scoots you forward, lifting you off his desk with his other arm and settling in his chair. You bite down hard on his shoulder to keep from yelping as the angle changes with you on top of him in his lap now, and you can tell he’s struggling too. Barely thinking clearly, you remember to reach down with a foot to lock the rolling wheels of his chair in place.
He shifts a little, testing the wheels, and nods. The chair won’t move under you. That’s your permission to press forward and ride him hard, but you know he’s still unmuted, so you have to be quiet. You wonder if the people on his conference call can hear the slick sound of you on his cock, but if he doesn’t care, you certainly don’t.
He gestures at your chest, and you nod, knowing what he wants. You shove the molded cups of your bustier down to expose yourself, and your breasts are pushed higher. Neither of you mind; he mouths his appreciation with a heavy-eyed “love watching those perfect tits bounce.”
With both hands on your ass, he’s unwilling to sacrifice one to mute himself, so instead he moves forward to take a nipple into his mouth and work it with his tongue happily.
Your head rolls back; he’s getting you close again and he hasn’t muted the call. You grab at one of his hands, and he knows what you need. He slides two fingers into your mouth, and you suckle longingly.
Some combination of this pushes him closer, and he must know your self-control is thin, or else he doubts his own. Wrenching his hand from your ass, he mutes the call and groans your name as you sink down, taking him deep. You bury your face in his shoulder, trembling as he finishes inside you. He’s grabbing you, holding you tight, alternating between nipples and sucking hard, gasping and panting how much he loves you. Close like this, you can grind your clit against the base of his cock, and you cry out as one last climax roars through you. You can feel him twitch inside you, and he slumps back in his chair, bringing you with him so you’re chest to chest.
He offers you his fingers again, and you take them gratefully into your mouth. You’re both sleepily talkative after coming like this, but you know he’s got to finish the call. So until you can ramble into his mouth about the bliss you’re feeling, you’ll suck on his fingers and let your eyes flutter shut.
“Anything else?” He sounds exhausted, completely spent, and you think they probably know what he’s been doing. You don’t care. “Great, thanks everyone. I’ll look for an emailed summary over the next few days.”
He ends the call and returns your sleepy smile as you let his fingers slide from your mouth. “I should take my sweet girl to bed, huh?” When you nod, he wraps his arms around you and stands up easily. You cling to him, and he nuzzles your neck. “Best meeting distraction, baby,” he tells you. “Let’s go nap and I’ll figure out how to repay you.”
#brendon urie smut#30 day smut challenge#my work#yes I am using this challenge to expand my oneshots 😂#brendon urie imagine#brendon x reader#fanfic#imagine#sheets day#brendon urie
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Do you guys ever just read so many imagines/oneshots that you kind of forget that this person isn’t really your significant other, and then you go awhile without being able to read them and you’re like “I miss my spouse”? Or am I just mentally ill.
#imagines#oneshots#x reader#fanfiction#loving a celebrity#celebrities#brendon urie imagine#brendon urie x reader#brendon urie#y/n#ao3#wattpad#harry styles#tom holland#gerard way#andy biersack#sebastian stan#fandoms#lonely#p!atd#mcr#bvb#marvel#music
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Send me oneshot prompts pls. I need to write but have nothing to write about. I will do anything u send over so dont be shy💕
List of ships:
Tayley
Ryden
Brallon
Petekey
Frerard
Gawsten
Joncer
Mclennon
Gatty
Gramon
#tayley#ryden#brallon#joncer#petekey#frerard#gawsten#mclennon#gramon#gatty#fanfic#writing prompts#fanfiction#oneshot#paramore#taylor york#hayley williams#ryan ross#brendon urie#panic! at the disco#jon walker#spencer smith#dallon weekes#fall out boy#pete wentz#mikey way#frank iero#gerard way#my chemical romance#john lennon
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Here's some one shots of mine... you can also go onto my profile to read some of the other stories I have posted... most of them are ongoing so make sure you keep an eye out for updates if you do decide to read them... if you do read one and you dont want to make a quotev account to be notified of updates, PM me on here and I will make sure that you get notified about new chapters.
#creative writing#personal#quotev#stories#oneshots#fall out boy#panic! at the disco#brendon urie#spencer smith#ryan ross#dallon weekes#joe trohman#andy hurley#my chemical romance#frerard#peterick#patrick stump#pete wentz#trohley#brallon#ryden
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Taking One shot requests!
Hi Guys!
I’m now taking one shot requests; pretty much any fandom:
Harry Potter
Hunger Games
Star Wars
Various Anime
Bandom: MCR, Panic!, FOB, TOP etc
Anything else, send it in and i’ll see what I can do!
I’ll also be uploading more fanworks where possible as well as starting to post onto AO3 within the coming weeks, stay tuned for links to that!
#fanfic#requests#oneshot#one shot request#harry potter#hunger games#star wars#death note#sword art online#ouran host club#my chemical romance#frerard#gerard way#the umbrella academy#frank iero#panic! at the disco#brendon urie#ryden#fall out boy#twenty øne piløts#twenty one pilots#tyler joseph#josh dun#ao3#fan works#fanfiction#writing
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Headcanon.
Loki, upon reaching the Soul Stone World, goes crying into Frigga's arms, and she's crying too, and he mutters: Hey look ma, I made it.
#marvel#marvel avengers#marvel avengers infinity war#headcanon#marvel meme#loki#thanos#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#marvel loki#loki god of mischief#loki mcu#loki hc#sad oneshot#loki oneshot#mcu hc#sad marvel stuff#brendon urie#hey look ma i made it#post iw#soul stone#p!atd#panic! at the disco
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THE SHIT! I NEED TO WRITE MY FICS! DON'T FUCK WITH ME INTERNET! I HATE YOU WHEN YOU DO THIS
Me when I plan on posting new fics but internet at home is not collaborative.
Remember I love Y'all. See you soon when my internet comes back, and remember to stay safe <3
Don't worry, I didn't forget you my loves, my return will be great. If you see this is because internet left me two spare seconds to post this. I'll be posting new stuff very soon, and I will leave open my request till Christmas. I will do a MASTERLIST including the Christmas and Halloween fics, you requested ❤️
#supernatural#spn#spnfamily#spnfandom#imagine#oneshot#reader insert#request#spn imagine#spn oneshot#supernatural imagine#band imagine requests#bandom#mcr#mcrmy#mcrx#mcromance#panic! at the disco#brendon urie#fall out boy#fob#p!atd#my chemical romance#multifandom#frank iero#gerard way#patrick stump#pete wentz#chuck shurley#writting is hard
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can you please do one where Brendon is drunk out of his mind and you have to take care of him and he’s so cute and sweet omg pls and thank you
Hi I didn’t proofread this and haven’t thought of a title hehe but it came out cute.
“I’m gonna go mingle, I’ll see you later?” You ask Brendon when you walk into the party. He nods and smiles, telling you he’ll see you around.
You've always liked brendon as more than a friend, but he’s never shown you any signs of feeling the same. Tonight, you had decided, you weren’t going to worry about if he liked you or not. You were going to dance and have a good time.
A cute guy walks up to you and starts chatting a little, and you’re really enjoying yourself. You learn his name is Matt, and that he’s a swim instructor for kids. He asks you to dance and you agree, enjoying his company.
Meanwhile, from across the room, Brendon is talking with one of his buddies but isn't interested in the conversation at all. Instead, he’s watching you like a hawk to make sure nothing bad happened. That’s when he saw you dancing with him. He got jealous. Very jealous. He quickly downed the drink he was sipping on, and about 3 shots of tequila.
“You know if there’s any more of this?” He asks his friend.
As the next couple of hours went on, you continued talking with Matt, and Brendon continued getting shitfaced. Finally, one of Brendon’s friends comes to find you, looking worried.
“Hey sorry to interrupt but Y/N, I don’t think Brendon is doing too hot, can you come help him? He’s asking for you.”
Your eyes widen with concern.
“Of course. Matt, I’ve had a great night but I have to go help my friend. Maybe I’ll see you again.” You tell him as you rush off in search of Brendon.
When you reach him, he has his head in the toilet bowl.
“Oh god” you sigh, walking further into the bathroom and placing a gentle hand on his back.
“Hey B, once you think you're done we’re gonna go home, okay?” You tell him softly. He only nods his head before throwing up again, and you stroke his back as he does.
Once he’s finally finished, you hand him a mint and help him stand, leading him out the back door of the house and to your car. Brendon hasn’t said a word, and you aren’t sure if it’s because there’s something on his mind, or if it’s from the alcohol.
“Hey B? Do you want to stay with me at my house or do you want me to stay with you at yours? I’m not leaving you alone like this, so those are your choices.” You ask him softly.
“Ummmmm sleepover at my house!” He slurs, suddenly regaining his bubbly personality.
You giggle and nod, heading in the direction of his place.
“Your laugh’s pretty” Brendon says with a loving smile.
You look at him quizzically for a moment before returning your eyes to the road.
He continues staring at you for most of the short drive to his house, and you pretend not to notice.
A few minutes later, you arrive at his house.
“You’re soooo pretty, Y/N. Even your hair is pretty” Brendon says as you help him out of the car.
“Uhh.. Thank you?” You reply.
“I jus thought you should know.” He says simply, and you shrug off his weird behavior.
“Ok Bren, up we go.” You tell him as you both climb the short flight of stairs to get to his front door. He pulls his keys out and fumbles with the lock for a minute before getting the door open.
You walk inside ahead of him and set your purse on the couch.
“Alright, I want you to go brush your teeth, get these clothes off and change into some comfy clothes. I’ll be in to tuck you in in a minute, ok?” You tell him. He nods obediently and stumbles to his bedroom.
You grab him a bottle of water from the kitchen and some Advil from your purse before heading to his room.
When you find him, he’s wearing sweatpants (backwards) and no shirt, and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Close enough” you giggle, entering the room and placing the water and pills on his nightstand. You drag his trash can near the edge of the bed, incase he needs it in the night. He sits up under the covers and watches your movements intently.
“You’re really good at helping me.” He tells you as you get him set up for the night.
“You’re pretty easy to help.” You say back.
You ask if you can borrow some of his clothes to sleep in and he agrees, telling you where to find them.
You quickly change without him looking and go back to his side.
“Thank you for taking care of me. I’d be lost without you.” Brendon says sweetly, and you look up at him with soft eyes.
“Of course bub. You’d do the same for me. Why’d you get so drunk, though? The party wasn’t even that crazy yet.” You ask softly.
“I was jealous” he admits, and you detect nerves in his tone.
“Jealous? Jealous of what?” You ask gently.
“You know of what, Y/N.” He sounds almost hurt now.
“Brendon, I really don’t-”
“I was jealous because you were…” he stops and adjusts his tone. “You were hanging with that guy all night and… and I wished it was me.” He finishes quietly, looking down at the floor.
“You what?” You whisper, shocked.
“I like you a lot okay? But I could never tell you because I know you don’t like me like that and I’d fuck up everything” he says, and a big smile washes over your face. He still isn’t looking. “I guess now I’m telling you though. Nice job Brendon. Goddamn tequila.” He mutters the last bit, making you smile wider.
You grab his chin and he brings his eyes up to yours hesitantly.
“Brendon. I’ve always liked you like that.” You tell him, his jaw goes slack at the revelation.
“So… does that mean if I kissed you, you wouldn’t pull away?” He says quietly after a moment.
“I don’t know, why don’t you find out”
Within a second, his lips find yours. His hands frame your face delicately, and yours find his hair.
Eventually, you pull away for air, looking at him once more. He smiles wildly, like a kid who just found out he was going to Disney.
“You’re so pretty and so sweet and you let me kiss you” he whispers.
“I did.” You smile back. “Now, you should get some sleep. You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.” You tell him, running a hand through his hair. He nods and lays down. “I’ll be out on the couch if you need anything, we can talk about everything in the morning.”
“Wait, no, you’re not sleeping on my couch.” He says firmly. “Come here and cuddle.”
“Alright fine. Only because you’re cute.” you tell him, shuffling over to the light switch and climbing into his bed.
He opens an arm up and you slide in happily.
“Goodnight Bren.” You whisper, and he whispers it back.
#brendon urie fluff#brendon x reader#brendon urie x reader#brendon urie oneshot#brendon urie fic#brendon urie fanfic
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Abandoned Madness
Frank, Gerard, Mikey, and Pete were all sitting together in an abandoned house that looks like it had been burned very badly but in reality it was just uncared for. Gerard was sitting by Frank and Mikey was sitting by Peter ((AN loving how my phone suggest Lewis Kingston Wentz III whenever I type Peter)) and they were were all laughing because they felt like it was too quiet in the house.
"Wait why are we laughing again?" Gerard saod because he for some reason forgot why they were all laughing.
Because he had forgotten too Frank answered," We're laughing because Mikey thought he could be as sassy as you." Frank said as he stopped laughing. "That is not why we're laughing Mikey said with a snort, "We're laughing because Gee was sucking **** (((i dont like swearing)) for cocaine!" He yelled slapping Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III in the face as he flailed while trying to make a point.
"I do not i don't do coke Pete does!" He screeched in a high pitched voice while pointing at Pete who had a very offended look on his face. "He does not." Mikey said defensively looking at his brother with a death glare, "Yeah, I do not." Pete said backing up his boyfriend.
"But neither does my bofriend." Frank chimed in finally talking after like, 3 minutes, "Exactly! What Frankie said!" Gerard said.
Suddenly Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross came in and started making out in the corner be ause they wanted to make the four boys uncomfortable.
"EW!" Frank squeaked as high pitched as Brendon's high note.
Then after about thirty minutes of just gagging at Bren and Ry a unicorn burst into the room and Mikey stood up taking Pete's hand and climbed up onto the unicorn as Pete followed. Then they rode out of the abandoned house all the way to Disney World where they went to the magic kindom and met Mikey Mouse and called out all the girls who were wearing bikini tops instead of shirts.
Meanwhile, back at the abandoned house Patrick Stump has shown up and saved everyone from the grossness of Brendon and Ryan as they sucked eachothers faces off by using his incredible soul voice and a very loud amp to scare them off with the loud noise.
The end.
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Birthday Oral
Found this while looking for something else. I literally can't remember if I ever posted this or not. If I did, I can't find it anywhere in my tags or on my Masterlist. Sorry if it's a repeat. And...surprise, I guess, if it's not.
I know this is by request but I can’t find the actual request. Birthday sex with lots of oral.
Brendon x reader
Warnings: language and dirty talk, oral sex, male masturbation
Word count: 1.5k
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“Happy birthday...to you…” his lilting purr comes out as a perfect impression of Marilyn before he licks you slowly, moaning at your taste. Your eyes flutter open as he licks you again, even slower this time - his tongue drags over you and the tip flicks against your clit, making you clutch at the sheets in your drowsy haze. Wrenching himself away from the delta of your thighs, he crawls up the bed, shirtless and wearing those grey sweatpants you’re obsessed with. Your eyes are half-open and you giggle sleepily as your boyfriend stretches himself out over you. “Happy birthday...to you. Happy...birth...day...dear Y/n…haaaaappy birthday...to...you.” He kisses you softly, tugging at your lower lip gently before working his way down your neck. “It’s midnight, which means I can officially start spoiling you. We agreed - and by that I mean you forced me to accept - nothing before your birthday, so I am taking every technicality I can,” he warns you. “I’m going to inundate you with love and adoration all day today.”
“Hi baby,” is all you manage, head lolling back onto the pillow with a soft whine as his fingers slip down your body and into your heat. “Oh, Brendon…” your hands stroke his back and he nods, nibbling on your collarbone. “That feels good...both - fuck, fingers and mouth…so nice…” He grins against your neck, kissing gently.
“It’s my girl’s birthday. Gonna make it the best ever.” He pauses. “The best ever so far.” You nod breathlessly, moaning as his fingers curl. “Fingers okay, honey? I can get back down there and eat my baby out if-“
“No, no,” you pant, toes curling. “Tongue feels - tongue makes me come so hard - need to warm up to that,” you tell him with a laugh and he joins you, keeping his fingers thrusting. “Oh god yeah, Brendon, honey - do that, keep doing that!” You’re squirming and moaning as his fingers spread and curl inside you, pressing forward and rubbing slightly. Your mouth drops open as your back arches; you’d have thought you’d be used to the things he does to your body by now, but every time he manages to make it feel different and new, but consistently fucking amazing.
“I’m gonna use my mouth, Kitten,” Brendon warns you as his lips leave your collarbone and move down between your breasts, over your stomach, and finally settling between your legs. “Need to taste my girl. Need to taste my Kitten. Gonna die if I can’t feel you come from my tongue. But more importantly...you want it. And you can handle it. I know you can.” Eyes locked on yours, he presses forward and rubs his tongue gently over your clit before slipping in between his fingers. The sensation makes you gasp and squeal and rock under his touch; you don’t know how you got so lucky. He’s moving with you, full lips sliding against your heat as his tongue rolls and curls over you. You’re moaning now, low and needy, both hands in his hair with your legs spread wide, knees bent as you work yourself back against his mouth like he loves. He presses closer, and when you look down, just the sight of him, eyes closed in utter bliss, mouth moving frantically and making the dirtiest sounds as he eats you out is enough to have you bucking hard and panting his name. “Don’t come,” he groans in one of the moments where he pauses to breathe hard, giving one long lick and rubbing the tip of his tongue against your clit teasingly.
“Bren, it’s my birthday,” you whine, chest heaving. “Don’t hold out on me on my birthday, baby. Please, please let me come.”
“No, my love,” he tells you, kissing your inner thighs, both slick. “I promise, you’ll come. I just want you to really need it.”
“I do need it,” you protest, believing that your need is evident in your voice. And if he can’t hear it in your voice, surely he can see it in your wide eyes, swollen-from-biting lower lip, and taut nipples. “I need it so badly.”
“Yeah? My Kitten needs to come?” He smiles at you adoringly from between your legs. “I think I believe you. My sweet Kitten wouldn’t lie to me.” He blows you a kiss before lowering his mouth back to where you need it most. He doesn’t hold back; if you were coherent enough to use metaphors, you’d describe this as going from zero to sixty. He’s all in, a hand curled on each thigh, mouth moving seamlessly against your heat and tongue expertly breaking you down to a quivering, whimpering wreck. He’s pushing you closer and closer with every swipe of his tongue; before you can even warn him, your thighs are snapping shut around his head as your back bows, head presses into the pillow and lips part in silent ecstasy.
“-fuck! Brendon!” Your voice rips from you and fills the room; as you come undone, he groans and licks eagerly, your name coming from his mouth. You’re trying to muffle your shrieks of pleasure and he’s rutting against the mattress while he laps at you. “Yes, fuck Brendon, yes,” you moan after a moment, catching your breath.
“Love that,” he manages, rolling onto his back with concerted effort. “Love making my girl come like that.” You look down at him between your legs, sprawled out, one arm bent awkwardly above his head so he can trace your slick entrance with two fingers while his other hand curls tightly around his cock, pumping hard. His tongue traces over your inner thigh, moaning as the feel and taste of you combined with his hand bring him close to the edge.
“Bren-“ you protest, trying to move so you can touch him and he silences you with one quick, scolding sound.
“Nuh uh, he says after a moment. “My baby isn’t lifting a finger today.”
“But what if going down on you makes me happy?” You pose the question innocently, and he groans. “You know it does. You know how happy Kitten is when you let her suck you off.” He considers this but shakes his head.
“Not yet. I’m not even going to let myself come,” he tells you. At your quizzical look, he laughs breathlessly. “Gotta take care of you first.” You argue that he has taken care of you, and he rolls his eyes as his hand slows. “If you think,” and he rolls back over, kissing your inner thigh tenderly, “that I’m only gonna have you come one time then you, my sweet girl, are sorely mistaken.”
“Mmmm,” you purr, wiggling in place. “Not sore, honey. In fact,” and you reach down between your legs to ruffle his hair affectionately. “I don’t remember the last time you spanked me sore.” He grins up at you as he props himself up on his elbows as he mouths over you, tongue sliding softly.
“Is that the birthday girl making a request?” His eyes twinkle at you from between your thighs and you laugh delightedly. “Does my birthday girl want to be spanked?”
“Hmmmmm.” You pretend to think, before locking eyes with him and tangling a hand in his hair. “Not yet. Want you to finish what you’re starting down there, honey.” He groans and tells you he’ll finish it gladly. Sure enough, he’s all over you, moaning and gasping and panting, fingers and tongue working urgently and within minutes, you’re clutching his head with both hands and rocking shamelessly against his mouth. “Brendon, baby, make me come!”
He groans your name against you and licks hard one last time before letting his tongue flick back and forth rapidly over your clit as his two fingers curl. Your squeal is piercing and your back arches all the way off the mattress as you press yourself to his mouth, whimpering softly and bucking against him. “That’s my good girl,” Brendon whispers, licking his lips with a pleased expression on his face.
“That’s my good man,” you counter with a soft laugh. “I didn’t do anything but come. You on the other hand…” you laugh again when he shifts to his knees and makes a bow, smirking at you. “You worked hard.”
“Worth it,” he murmurs, crawling up the bed to snuggle against you. “Worth it to see you feel so good. You good with going back to sleep for a while, sweet girl?” He smiles at you sleepily as you rake your hands through his messy hair. “Promise I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.” He kisses you softly and you melt against him, sighing in pleasure as your tongues move together. “Happy birthday, Y/n,” Brendon whispers against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face. As you part, he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re my whole world; you know that, right? You’re my absolute everything. And that,” he says with one last soft kiss, “is why I’m going to make this the best birthday ever.”
“Best birthday ever so far,” you correct with a slight yawn.
“You remembered,” he says, a proud, sleepy smile playing on his lips.
“I remembered,” you agree, and with that, you’re half-asleep again; he’s sprawled over you, one hand on your hip and the other thrown gracelessly over your head. You’ve got an arm thrown across his back and a leg hitched high and angled around his waist. “You're off to a damn good start,” you whisper, letting yourself fall asleep tangled up with him.
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