#And Charlie is more of a silly guy vibe!!!! Very easy to talk to and everyone likes him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

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Slow Burn: Act 1 - Part 4

The Game Night

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: Game night with your cast and crew turns into a silent game of cat and mouse between you and Chris.

Warnings: Profanity, Sexual connotations, drunken silliness

Notes: This one was a fun challenge for me. Wanted to make sure there was a decent amount of conflict, but it was hard cos I am the queen of avoiding drama IRL; literally don’t know how that shit starts lol. Enjoy! Read the previous part here and check out the moodboard + music here.

Lush, autumnal trees that have yet to drop their leaves become more abundant and houses fit for large families grow farther apart as your Uber takes you from the bustling Boston city into the neighboring suburbs. Over the last few weeks, between staying with your sister in her Boston brownstone and filming on location on Harvard’s campus, you’ve become familiar with the urban terrain. You’re looking forward to the slowness of the suburbs, even if it’s just for an evening. It’s an experience you missed since being on tour non-stop. Always in an airport, then some large city, then on stage, in front of thousands. The quiet of the suburbs had evaded you the past few years, so you welcomed it with open arms.

“Whatcha got back there?” You had hoped having your earbuds in would keep talking at bay, but Charlie, the older gentleman driving your Uber, had other plans. The stress of his vowels lets you know he’s Boston born and bred. “I won’t say it smells bad, just… interesting!”

In the backseat with you are a ton of old, dusty games you borrowed from your sister, but no matter how musky, you know he’s talking about the aromatic platters of food. “Oh, it’s um, samosas.”

“Orange juice and bubbly got the cah smelling like that?!”

You giggle slightly at his misunderstanding, “Not MImosa; SAmosa. Here, try one.” You hand Charlie a fried savory pastry.

He screws his face at it, the sight obviously foreign to him. “What is it?”

“It’s a fried pastry with some really flavorful potatoes and peas on the inside. Go on! You’ll love it!”

Charlie takes a tentative bite, then widens his eyes as the food hits his palate. You both begin to nod at each other slowly, knowingly.

“Good right?”

“So good! Where’d you get this?”

“From the Indian place on Columbia.”

“Oh I know that place! Pass it all the time, never go in. Smells weird.”

“It doesn’t smell weird; it’s just different to you. But now that I’ve introduced you to something on the menu, it won’t be so foreign to you, now will it?”

“You know what, you’re right! Next time I pass by, I’ll order me some, um, what’s this called again?”

“Samosa.”

“Yeah, samosa. Thanks miss!”

“No problem.” You love introducing others as well as yourself to new cultures, part of the reason you don’t mind being on the road so much.

“Wanna know something? My Ma has a restaurant on Columbia, too.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it called?” You ready your phone to look it up, but Charlie is already handing you a takeout menu. “Thanks. ‘L'amore Della Madre’. Mother’s Love?”

“Sì! Puoi parlare Italiano?”

“No, at all. I can read a little if I go slow and the words are short, but that’s just about it.”

“Well if you come by, tell ‘em Charlie sent you, and you’ll get free Italian lessons!”

“Really?”

“No, but they’ll treat you like family and you’ll learn all the bad words you’ll ever need to know.” You both laugh as you pull up to a gate with a call box. You tell Charlie the passcode to let you through —‘Harvard Hottie’, to which he quirks his brow at you through the rear view mirror.

“My friend thinks very highly of himself,” you laugh as you think about how excited Scott was to make that the passcode. He’s been highly excited in general about having some of cast and crew over for game night, insisting it was a great way to bond and team build.

“Your friend has got some money, huh?” Charlie remarks as he drives the stretch of winding road along a sizable amount of land before there’s a grand but understated farmhouse in view. Yeah, I guess so. Scott is living well. Good for him.

The car parks in front of the house, and you bid farewell to Charlie, gifting him another samosa for the road. “Thanks sweetheart, and I’ll see you at Ma’s sometime soon, yeah? We’ll get you set up with a nice Italian boy, ok?”

What is with everyone and setting me up?? “Least of my worries, Charlie. Least of my worries.” You collect your cumbersome party offerings and head for the door, then ring the doorbell with your pinky, as it’s the only appendage you can get free. As you struggle to balance the things in your hand, the door opens. You have a nervous smile ready to greet whatever familiar face that will be on the other side of the door, but it fades into a nervous confused expression as you take in the unexpected, but familiar face opposite yours.

There you are: dumbfounded and face to face with the one person you dutifully have not thought about or seen in the last few weeks since New York. Chris stands across the threshold looking widely at you, just as you are at him. You stare at each other for a few more seconds before you fumble with the stuff in your hands, Chris catching them effortlessly.

“Woah there, I’ll get those for you.”

“No, it’s ok.” The two of you do an awkward little dance trying to keep the things from falling. Just then, Scott comes from another room to greet you, but is met with the sight of you and Chris, each holding a little bit of everything, and one another, in order to keep the things between your bodies from hitting the floor. Scott can’t help but smirk at the two of you before coming over to help some of the things out of your hands. He’s quick to leave you alone with Chris, disappearing around a corner.

“Um… it’s good to see you again…”

“Uh-huh, that’s nice. SCOTT! Can I talk to you a moment?” you say as you go in the direction Scott disappeared in. You’re brought to a large, homey kitchen. You take in the simplistic decor, modern but rustic design and clean state of it. Scott was at the counter, already digging into the samosas and looking through your tattered game selection.

“I thought you said this was a cast and crew get together. What’s your brother doing here?”

“Well, I'm staying with him while we’re filming; couldn’t just kick him out of his own house! Besides, he hosts a WICKED game night and offered to help.”

“What’s with y’all Bostonians and ‘wicked’? Like, who the hell actually says that?”

“Plus I figured you guys hit off ‘cos he only asked me about a million times if you were coming…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Knowing you couldn’t badmouth your costar and new friend’s brother, even if he had done so about you, you were careful with your answer.

“Look, I know what you and Mackie are up to and you gotta stop.”

“What EVER do you mean?”

You clench your teeth at his faux ignorance. “You know what I mean! Stop trying to set me up with your brother, or anyone for that matter. I need to focus on our film, ok?”

“Hey, is everything ok?” Chris comes to check on you and Scott.

“Yep, everything’s everything!” Scott turns to you, “I’m gonna go let everyone know you're here and that we’ll be starting in a few.” Scott excuses himself with a wink at you.You and Chris stand a few apart, stiff as rods. This literally couldn’t get more uncomfortable.

Thinking that if you gave Jimi the coffee and flowers, and focused on your work, you could magically disappear Chris from existence. You let yourself believe that you’d *unrealistically* never see him again, while Chris made sure that wouldn’t be the case. When he didn’t get a response for his green room gift, he knew he’d have to apologize in person, but he didn’t think too much about what he'd say.

Chris breaks the silence. “Soo, how’s filming going?”

You look at him, head tilted, eyes squinted, nose scrunched. Really? That’s what you’ve got to say to me right now?

“Right… that was— listen, I—“

“Where’s your bathroom?” you interrupt him.

“Uh, down that hall to the left.”

“Thanks.” You briskly make your way there and whip out your phone. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Chris face palming himself. As soon as you’re in the bathroom, you FaceTime Jimi.

“Hey hun! What’s up?”

“Girl, he’s here!” Your voice is panicked.

“Use more descriptive words honey. Who is where?”

“Chris is here at the game night!”

“Ooookay… and that’s a problem because...”

“Because he’s gonna ask me why I didn’t respond to his apology gift and I’m gonna say what? ‘Cos it was lame attempt after you grossly offended me after playing nice in my face all night. Like dude, I thought we vibed!’” You catch your breath before you start again. “Jimi, I may act like I want the smoke, but I really don’t! What do I do?”

“First off, take a chill pill. Secondly, just steer clear, and be neutral. Play nice, but don’t get too friendly. No need to make this bigger than it is.”

You exhale at your friend’s rationality. “Ok. Ok, I can do that!”

“Yeah you can! I have faith in you! Now, leave me alone until tomorrow, I’m catching up on Insecure and this ice cream is NOT gonna finish itself. Love you, bye!” You hang up with Jimi, and repeat “steer clear, be neutral, play nice, not friendly” as a mantra, while opening your messages. You text your sister to remind her to pick you up at 10pm. She offered since she knew you’d be drinking and said she didn’t want her “drunk, famous little sister in an Uber at night. They might hold you for ransom!” Simultaneously annoyed and endeared by her concern, you accepted her offer. She replies affirmatively.

Slowly opening the bathroom door, you poke your head out, checking to see that the coast is clear of Chris. When you find that it is, you step out and exhale.

“Hey.”

“OH SHIT!” You jump at the sound of Chris’ voice behind you, clutching your imaginary pearls.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckles a bit, but stops as you side eye him. She's not gonna make this easy. He clears his throat. “Um, I was hoping I could talk to you for a few—“

“Hey Kid! Scott said you were here!” Mackie pulls you in for a hug. You hadn’t seen each other all week because you hadn’t shared scenes with him. “What’s up with ya?”

“Oh ya know… same old, same old,” you say with a shrug. You look over to Chris who's rubbing his neck.

“Hey!! Party in the hallway!” Ansel joins the three of you in the hallway already a little tipsy. “What are parlaying about?”

“Not how you use that word.” Ansel boops your nose as the hallway fills with a couple more people, and you were never more grateful for your overly personable, slightly invasive film family. You squeeze out of the “hallway party” towards the living room, relieved to have escaped interaction with Chris, but unsure of if you would be so lucky the rest of the night.

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The group of about 30 cast and crew members congragate in the living room and are split into 2 teams: Team 1 In A Million and Team A-fucking-mazing. Team 1 In A Million includes you, Scott, and Jaden while Team A-fucking-mazing has Mackie, Ansel and your director, Sonya.

“Wait, we only have 14, they have 15!” Mackie complains.

“No need to whine, Mackie. Chris, I know you were gonna hang back some tonight, but you mind joining their team?” Scott gestures to the opposite team and Chris reluctantly joins them. He sits with his team on the end of the sofa across from you. He’s dressed like the big brother of a fraternity: cap on backwards that pulls his hair away from his crystal blue eyes, too tight t-shirt that show off his bulging biceps, basic jeans that accentuate his long legs, and a plain pair of color coordinated Nike’s, a size who knows, you just notice how big they are, and quite frankly, you find it all… mouth-watering. He offers you a shy smile and shrug, but you look away before you could melt and forget why you’re icing him in the first place. Chris just sighs to himself.

The games get under way, drinks and conversation are flowing, while both teams compete in a series of minute-to-win-it games. You forget about Chris long enough to have some real fun. Not really one for smack talk, though you love healthy competition, on-the-spot made-up cheers to hype up your teammates is your specialty. Every once in a while, you’ll look up mid-smile or laughter and catch Chris looking and smiling at you. Your expression immediately resolves into a neutral one, and Chris’ heart sinks every time.

“This next one is called ‘Blow Ball’.” Scott announces.

“That’s what she said,” Jaden jokes, and you just shake your head, barely laughing.

“Thank you for that, Jaden. When the timer starts, each player must use only their breath to blow the 73 blue ping pong balls off the pizza tray, while at the same time keep the 3 yellow ping pong balls on the tray. Any questions?”

Jaden raises his hand. “So you’re saying the players have to blow on the blue balls until they get off?” Chris does his classic, boisterous belly laugh, and you’re inclined to smile and sigh to yourself. I forgot how good that sounds.

“You’re exhausting, Jaden. Ok teams, pick your representatives!” After some deliberation, you’re chosen to go for your team, insisting you had the best breath control. You turn from your huddle to see who your opponent is. Of. Fucking. Course.

“May the best player win,” Chris offers his hand to you to shake.

“I intend to,” you reply, slapping his hand away and the group erupts in instigating chorus of “ooo’s”. There’s even a “you gone take that Cap?!” from Mackie. Under normal circumstances, Chris would’ve found your cockiness cute, attractive even. But seeing as you snubbed his apology, have been avoiding him all night, and consistently let your face fall at the sight of him, he couldn’t help but take it personally.

“Alright, alright,” Scott calms everyone down. “On your mark, get set, go!”

The two of you set to work on your trays. Chris struggles to get strong enough breaths out to move the balls thanks to the amount of beers he’s already thrown back and his distracting thoughts. What’s up with this girl? Why won’t she accept my apology? Is she really that full of herself?

Meanwhile, you breezed through your ping pong balls, moving them off the tray with your controlled breath with ease. A couple minutes pass of you going at your trays, your team ridiculously rowdy thanks to the copious amount of alcohol consumed at this point. You’re down to the last few blue ping pong balls on your tray, careful not to blow the yellow ones off.

You look up slightly at Chris who has a little ways to go before catching up to you. You lock eyes with him. He then flicks his eyes down to your tray and notices there’s just a single blue ball between you and victory. He brings his eyes back up to yours, then to your Fenty-glossed lips that are serving him a cocky grin, which turns into a soft ‘O’ as you puff out just enough air to skid the last blue ball off your tray and onto the floor. You win.

You both rise slowly, maintaining strong eye contact, but it’s broken as your team crowds and rough houses you like you’ve just won the Super Bowl. Jaden puts a beer bottle to his mouth like a microphone. “So here we are with the most badass, bodacious Blow Ball player in the land. Tell us, how does it feel to bring your team to victory?” he asks you in his best broadcaster voice.

You patronize him because you’re having fun. “Well, you know, I couldn’t have done it without their support… and my Grammy-award winning singer’s lungs baby!” There’s another round of rowdiness from your team, but looking over at Chris, your smile falters for a different reason. He seems unamused by your antics. What’s his deal? You don’t stay looking at Chris for long, as your team turns you around for more drunken celebration.

“I want to challenge you to a game of beer pong.” Chris pipes at you amongst the loud chatter.

Your back is to him, as you were talking to one of your teammates. You only look over your shoulder as you reply. “Challenge all you want, but I don’t wanna. We won. That’s it. Move on.”

“What, you’re scared cos it’s not in your element you won’t win?” The group quiets down as you turn to face Chris. Studying his face, you come up with nothing, unable to read him. He’s joking, right?

Your mantra about steering clear and playing nice are gone from your tipsy brain. “No, but I’m sure your confidence is coming from the fact that it’s well in your element.” You approach him, sizing him up as he looks down at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Despite your best efforts, you had been watching him tonight. The more drinks he threw back, the more bro-ish he became. Hella loud, overly competitive, with unsolicited coaching. It gave you a headache, but you brushed it off until now.

“Nothing, just that some of us,” motioning to yourself, “spent our college days studying, while others,” poking his chest, “got their frat on. Hence why beer pong is right up your alley.”

“Jokes on you: I didn’t go to college.”

“That explains why you think ‘brown’ and ‘mouth’ rhyme,” you say low enough for only him to hear. So she got the gift... There’s a pang in his chest and it’s evident to you in his eyes. The look he gives pains you and causes you to soften your features.

“So are we gonna do this or what?” says Ansel, mouth full of samosa, cutting the heady moment.

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The next 30 minutes are a complete blur. There’s yelling, cheering, sneering, and shit talking. Cup after cup of beer is thrown back on your end as Chris whoops your ass at this game, just like you knew he would. By the end of it you are thoroughly drunk, having reached tipsy quite a few games back. His team swamps him in congratulations, but his eyes stay on you, his face still unreadable.

You’re not a sore loser, you swear it, you just couldn’t take the unsaid tension with Chris any longer, and excused yourself. You find a quiet corner to take a breather and an opportunity to text your sister to remind her to pick you up at 10. She says she’ll be there.

“Hey, cute doggie!” You notice the pooch perched on an oversized ottoman and sit next to, not bothering to make it to a chair. You read his tag. Dodger.

“Aaahhh. Chris’ best boy and dysfunctional codependent,” you recall from when the night you met in New York a few weeks ago. “Tell me, is he always this, this… frustrating?” You drawl out. Dodger just responds with a light bark as you scratch behind his ears to his delight.

You enjoy the dog’s company for a few minutes longer until he gives an alerting bark, causing you to look in the direction of the patio that you’d just left. You look up and can see double the Chris approaching. Not even thinking twice, you crawl out of the sitting area and into the next room where most everyone is now sobering up and playing low energy board and card games. You, however, are frantically looking for somewhere to avoid Chris.

Once Chris reaches, he only finds a happily panting Dodger, that he crouches down next to. “She’s seriously avoiding me, huh Bubba?” Dodger barks then licks Chris’ face, as if to say, “Yeah dude, give it up.” How childish.

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9:55 pm rolls around and you are waiting at the front door for your ride like a kid on the curb of their school. All night has been an exhausting game of cat and mouse between you and Chris, and you appreciate the moment of solace in his foyer. The ringtone for your sister fills the room, and you put your phone to your ear.

“But Lynn, you offered!” Chris hears an anxious voice from his spot in the kitchen and walks in its direction to investigate.

“You didn’t just find that out! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” As he gets closer, he identifies it as your voice. There you are, at his front door, coat and purse, ready to leave the festivities, and scoffs. Last to arrive, first to leave.

“Are you kidding me right now? I don’t need you to send me money! I’ve got money! Money is not the issue here!” Chris raises his brows to your statement. He has no idea who you’re yelling at like that, but it’s not helping your case in his mind.

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t even breathe in my direction tomorrow.” Stupid sister, and her stupid bowling league. You continue to mumble to yourself as you assess your options. Seeing as you didn’t want to interrupt anyone’s good time, and want to get the hell out of there ASAP, you decide to just take an Uber anyway.

One last try. “Everything ok?” You look up to see Chris, eyes glossy from drunkenness, red from tiredness, nursing a water bottle and leaning on the archway.

“Yeah,” you say, not meeting his eyes, hoping he’d go away. When he didn’t, you moved closer to the door, hoping he’d get the picture then. Steer clear.

“Leaving already?”

“Uh-huh.” Be neutral.

“We were just about to cue up some karaoke. I’d love to hear what those singer’s lungs could do.” You loved karaoke. But not tonight. Not with him.

“You all enjoy; I’m not in the mood.” Play nice, not friendly.

That’s it, I’ve had it with her cold shoulder! “Wanna know something? I was wrong about you.”

“Is that so?” You brace for another cringey apology.

“Yeah… You’re not an airheaded, wannabe popstar. You’re an arrogant, childish diva.”

You’re taken aback, but not entirely surprised. You can see how he got to this conclusion. What with you icing him all night, taking digs at him, and if he was in that archway long enough, that conversation with your undependable sister could have sounded diva-ish out of context. It’s a complete misjudgment of you, but you can’t help but think you started it. “Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah.” The two of you meet in the middle of the foyer for your second stand off tonight.

“You wanna know what you are?”

“I get the feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re a fickle, judgmental bro dude.”

“Bro dude?”

“Yeah! A bro dude! You're good at beer pong, you flirt relentlessly, try to get in my head, and get pissed and start calling names the second you realize you’re not getting the time of day.”

“Oh honey you wish I was flirting!”

“Is everything alright in here?” Scott appears in the archway his brother was in just moments before.

“Yeah, I was just going; my Uber’s here.” Your ride share arrived just in time to save you from any further wanton ridicule.

“Uber? I— or someone can drive you home.” Chris says as he grasps your elbow.

“More of your mixed signals. Save the fake concern for someone who’s got the time, cos it ain’t me.” Taking back your arm in a huff, you leave for your waiting ride.

“Woah... what was that about?”

“I… I’m gonna call it a night. I’ll help cleanup in the morning.” Chris kisses his brother goodnight, one last drunken act before retiring for the night. Scott is left in the foyer stunned, as Mackie comes to see what’s holding him up.

“Hey man, where’s Chris and— are they… ya’know?” Mackie gives a suggestive look, bumping Scott with his elbow. “I know you felt that tension, that sexual tension!”

“No, they’re not— They just had some intense words, and she left and he went to bed— alone.”

“What?! What happened?”

“I don’t know but we gotta think of something. They can’t hate each other!”

“Yeah, we’ll think of something… after we sing some karaoke. I’ll be Diana if you’ll be Lionel.”

“No, I’m definitely more Diana, you be Lionel!”

“Fine.”

Part 5

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x woc #Slow Burn Series #chris evans series

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thatglutenfreemuffin-blog · 7 years

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Strictly Business - Part 1

Well you guys are in for a surprise here. @joshdunslipring and I are working on a collab all based around vampire/business man Brendon. Here is your first part <3

Brendon downs the small glass of whiskey in his hand, the ice clinking softly as he lowers the glass back down to the bar, his eyes scan the room, he loves owning the casino, but he hated these big fancy parties. Some big business awards had been held in the arena at the casino, meaning that, naturally, the after party was being held in the main casino, the whole thing, closed down and reserved for the award ceremonies’ attendants.

Half of the attendants in question were stuffy, middle aged businessmen and millionaires, all with either their trophy wives, some even had women who were blatantly escorts, hanging off of their arms and laughing at their terrible jokes. The other half of the room, well that’s a little more complicated, the other half were vampires, not the kind you see in the movies, that sleep in coffins and live in manor houses in the wilderness, relatively normal people, if you discount the blood drinking. The money and success of his business were incredible, he could do what he wanted, look after his family, owned several properties, jetting away whenever he saw fit to whatever exotic place he pleased. But this culture wasn’t his scene at all, for a start, he’s far younger than most of these people, as well as not being a total, business minded drone, he liked to have fun and enjoy himself.

He was just got free of a very long winded, very boring conversation about the current market, feeling the cold whiskey in his glass leave that pleasant warmth in his throat, scanning the room for anyone who might be a little more interesting to talk to. His eyes finally fall on you, standing on the other side of the bar, clad in a floor length deep red dress, the top lacey and slim fitted and the back dipping low, exposing most of your back, the skirt of the dress flowing gracefully. He tries to pull his eyes away but can’t, the way your hair falls around your shoulders and the deep red lipstick on your lips matches your dress so perfectly. Unable to refrain any longer, he saunters over to you gracefully, leaning on the bar next to you.

“What’ll you have ma’am.” The bartender spoke politely, standing in front of you.

“Anything with your best whiskey in it.” You say with a little smile, Brendon’s eyebrow cocks a little, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“My man here, makes a wonderful Manhattan.” He speaks up, making you turn your head to face him and damn he’s even more attracted to you up close.

“Is that so? I guess I’ll have to try it then.” You say with a little smirk, leaning forward on the bar and reaching into your purse to get some money.

“No need, darlin’ I’ve got this. Charlie put all of this gorgeous womans’ drinks on me.” He winks, lips lifting into a grin that is far too attractive for his own good, there’s some kind of vibe to him that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“I can buy my own drinks.” You try to insist but he waves it off.

“I’m sure you can, sweetie, but I’m happy to buy drinks for a girl who can appreciate a good whiskey.” He bites his lip, pressing just a little closer and you can’t fight the blush that creeps into your cheeks. “I’m…”

“Brendon Urie, I know, I’m Y/N.” You smile and take the drink from the bartender as it’s handed to you, taking a little sip and smiling approvingly.

“You know who I am? Pretty name for a pretty girl though.” A small smirk forms on his face.

“Yeah, I know, I think everyone in this room knows who you are.” You giggle again, drumming your fingers on the bar.

“So what’re you doing here all alone?” Brendon keeps his eyes on you, watching you intently as you sip your drink some more.

“I’m not ‘all alone’ I’m here with my dad, but he’s far too busy getting drunk and getting a boner over business talk.” Your lips quirk a little when Brendon chuckles, running a hand through his thick black hair.

“No father should leave his beautiful daughter unattended in a casino full or men with questionable morals.” You try desperately not to let the smooth tone of his voice affect you, but find yourself inescapably drawn to him, he’s handsome and charming.

“Oh? And I suppose you’re the one with golden intention here to save me? Because, quite frankly, I’ve had enough of being leered at by either creepy old men or men that want to suck my blood and drag me off into the night.” You smile playfully as you sass him, watching the broad, slick smirk that forms on his lips, his eyebrow cocking up.

“And how would you know about these bloodsuckers, pretty girl.” He practically purrs, playing at baring his teeth and hissing, the smirk on his face only getting wider when you giggle.

“Dad does business with them, you get used to it. Stop side tracking, you didn’t answer my question, ARE you the one with golden intentions? Because I’m certain you’re not,” you chew your lip a little as you speak, drawing his eyes to them, biting his right back at you.

“I can promise you’d I’d respect you a lot more than most of these men.” He offers an arm out, smiling and nodding towards a more secluded table nearby. You hesitate for a second, before thinking, you studied for 5 years away for college, not giving yourself any time to have fun or flirt or enjoy yourself, so why not? He’s gorgeous, that’s for sure, all dark, chocolate brown eyes and ebony hair, lips that are killing you already, killer cheekbones and jawline and his suit is another story, matte black with a floral type pattern in a shinier black. Yeah, he’s fucking gorgeous.

“Lead the way, Urie.” You slip your hand onto his arm and pick your drink up, letting him lead you to the little table, being the perfect gentleman of course and pulling out your chair for you.

“So, tell me more about yourself, sweetheart.” He offers, resting his elbows on the table and leaning closer, silently imploring you to speak.

“What do you want to know? I’m certain I’m not as exciting as some of the gorgeous, model type girls you get hanging around you.” You chuckle, toying with the little stirrer in your drink, he chuckles wholeheartedly back.

“That’s where you’re wrong, see, you get good at reading people in this business darlin’ and those girls, all gold diggers, they’re only in it for my money and the reputation of hanging off of my arm. Whereas you, far from it, you’re an intelligent girl, I can tell, know how to handle yourself, and actually isn’t interested in my money. So, tell me about yourself, how old are you, did you go to college, what’re you interests, ya know, usual stuff babe.” He finishes his little speech, sitting back in his seat and smiling.

“Fine, I’m 24, nearly 25, just finished college, I studied biochemistry and genetics for 3 years.” You start but he raises his hand.

“Hold on, you studied biochemistry and genetics? That’s incredible, I was right about you being intelligent then.” He smiles and you can’t help but blush, especially when he leans a little closer to tease, “and I can promise you, intelligence is extremely sexy. So tell me more angel. What gets a pretty girl like you, who doesn’t have to study or do anything because your dad is rich, into something like that?”

“I don’t want to be some dumb bimbo who lives off of daddy, simple. I’ve always had a huge interest in genetics, so I decided to try it at college and it just worked out, I loved every second.” You smile fondly, ending up getting caught in a whole, long and very detailed conversation about yourself, talking for what feels like hours about college and your studies and research, ending up discussing just about everything else too, he asks about your interests outside of work, music tastes, favourite colour. Silly things really, but it surprises you how easy he is to talk to, even though you’re both flirting heavily, time passes by like nothing before you finally realise you’ve been talking about yourself for far too long.

“C’mon, Brendon, I’ve been babbling on for hours about myself, tell me about you. Not the boring business stuff, you.” You smile when you see a little sweet smile form on his face, he’s clearly not used to being asked that question.

“Well, I’m 29, I turn 30 in April. I’ve owned the casino for 5 years, took it over from my parents when they passed away, changed up the whole place, new name, new look, managed to do my parents justice by making this place even more successful than it already was.” He smiles sweetly when he mentions his parents, but you giggle and lean closer.

“I said not the businessy stuff, I want to know about you, not your money, not your casino, you.” You insist, a little tipsy by this point. “I wanna know more about the gorgeous man in front of me, is that so wrong?” He chuckles and a very, very slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Well… I’m not used to talking about that stuff, so what do you want to know?” He reaches forward and touches your hand.

“I don’t know, what are you interested in, what’s your favourite colour, favourite band, anything.”

“I love music, I play several instruments and… can even sing, a little I guess, I’ve sang a few times in the bar before.” He blushes harder this time and it’s genuinely adorable.

“What instruments do you play?” You lean close to him, intrigued and happy to see a more human side of him, both of you leaning over the table, dangerously close to him.

“Drums, guitar, bass and piano. I actually have a big grand piano in the suite I have at the top of the hotel.” He drops his voice a little and you shudder, damn his voice is sexy, and his fingers gently trace over the back of your hand.

“You own a suite?” You giggle when he nods and keeps tracing his fingers lightly.

“Darling this is my casino, it made sense to have somewhere to stay here, I am here a lot.” His lips quirk a little and he leans close, lips almost ghosting over yours. “I can show you it if you want angel.” He purrs a little and you squirm in your seat, brushing him off.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself Urie.” You tease, he hates to admit how much you’ve caught his interest as you chat longer, listening to him open up about his hobbies and life and just himself in general, it’s nice to know that not all millionaires are total assholes.

After sitting at that table for almost two hours, you decide to stretch your legs and explore a little, Brendon offering to give you a tour of the casino, seeing as you’ve never been here before. He shows you round, introducing you to all the different games tables, showing you the roulette wheel.

“Why don’t you have a turn?” He offers, taking his wallet out of his pocket and handing a note over to the guy at the wheel, who promptly hands him a stack of chips. “Here, pick a number, or a colour, and have some fun.”

“Brendon, you don’t have to do that, I have money.” You try to argue but he shrugs and pushes the chips your way anyway, and you give in, placing a stack of them on black 20, purely on a whim, watching intently as the ball spins Brendon’s hand resting very welcomed on your waist, standing close behind you, his warm whiskey tinged breath sending little shivers down your spine, even worse when his hand slips onto the exposed skin on your back. He evidently feels you shudder a little when his fingers and the cold rings on his hand touch your skin because he leans closer.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart, you liking the way my hand feels?” He murmurs, low and gravelly, eyes fixed on your as he trails his fingertips up your spine from the small of your back to the between your shoulders and back down, light enough to bring out the goose pimples on your body.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, leaning into his touch, trying to remain focused but he’s driving you insane.

“Black 20.” The guy at the table suddenly calls, snapping you out of the Brendon induced haze you were in.

“Look at that, lucky girl, I’ll have to keep you around during my poker games.” Brendon smirks, repeating that same stroking motion with his fingers as he pushes the chips back to the him. Moving his hand away he takes your hand again, pulling you back down to earth as he shows you the section where several games of poker are being played.

“And my favourite game.” He says playfully, pulling you close to tease again. “Hello? You there, or are you busy thinking of what else my hands might feel nice doing?” He teases and you manage to snap out of it finally.

“No, actually, I was just thinking about how bad at poker you probably are.” You sass back and he scoffs.

“I could take any player at those tables.” He says, so self-assured and grinning widely.

“Pffft, sure ya can Bren.” You scoff, giggling a little as he pouts. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? I bet you, I can walk onto any of those poker tables and win.” He smirks, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at you, a look of determination sparking in his eyes.

“Oh yeah? And what do I win when you lose?” You speak confidently, almost certain that he cannot be as good as his ego tells him he is.

“Anything your little heart desires, angel.” You’re caught off guard, unable to actually think of something to wager against him, after standing embarrassingly stumped and silent for a time you finally clear your throat.

“Dinner, somewhere I choose, at a time I choose.” You wager, but his lips lift into a smile.

“Dinner with you? That’s hardly loosing, Y/N. But deal, if I lose, I’ll take you to dinner, anywhere you want.” He chuckles and presses closer, fingers toying with a strange if hair hanging above your chest. “Now, if I win…” he trails off, lip pulling between his teeth, making your heart race. “I think you should come see my suite with me after this lovely party ends.”

“Deal.” You say quickly, which seems to catch him off guard until you lean closer to tease, “If all I have to do is look at your suite, that’s fine with me.”

“Darlin, I’m certain I can convince you to stay a while.” He practically purrs.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself.” You scold, giggling when he raises his arms in a dramatic apology, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards the poker tables, he insists that you pick the table, so that you can be certain he’s not trying to cheat, you pick one with a few people you recognise, your dad’s friends, if he wants a challenge he can have one. With a quick nod he pulls you towards the table.

“It’s fine, I’ll leave you to play.” You try to insist but he just smirks and tugs you a little closer.

“C'mon, come watch daddy play poker, kitten.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth once again, watching the bright red blush creep onto your cheeks at his little comment, tugging you towards the poker table and down into the chair directly next to him, admiring how much classier you look than most of the women on the others men’s arms look. You can’t help but observe the stunned looks on all of their faces as he sits. “Evening gents, you won’t mind if I join you for a game?” You hear plenty of stammered no Mr Urie’s over and it’s plain to see these ditzy girls eyeing him like he’s a cold drink in a desert.

What a prize a man like him must be to women like them.

He remains incredibly focused through the poker game, maintaining the odd bit of contact with you, his hand resting on your thigh every so often it toying with your hand. You were actually pretty impressed watching him, he had an amazing poker face and when it came down to the end of the game he did nothing but announce that he was all in, sitting back and watching the puzzles faces as they tried to figure out if he was bluffing.

He leant closer to whisper, “Shall I get some champagne sent up to my room darlin? Would be a shame if you didn’t at least stay for a drink.” His attention was snapped back to the table when someone claimed he was bluffing, his eyebrow cocking in a devilishly attractive way, shrugging like he had no idea. “I don’t know, that’s for you to find out.” he offers, smirking at the puzzled look he was getting. The last person in the game except him, layed down his 5 cards, a flush from the 4 to the 8 of spades, sitting back and relaxing like he’d just won the game. Brendon however had other ideas, a cocky, half smile forming on his lips as he laid his cards, which he’d kept hidden, even from you this whole time, a royal flush, hearts of course.

“Good game, gents, you can keep your money, just playing for fun.” With that he stands and offers his hand out to you, helping you up and grinning. “Guess I’ll get to show you that suite after all. Let’s get another drink, shall we?”

“I only have to see the suite, I didn’t say anything about staying for long.” You sass back, letting him guide you around the outside of the casino, through the crowds of people towards the bar.

“Awh, darlin’ there’s gonna be a beautiful bottle of champagne there when we get there, you’d make me drink that all on my own?” He pouts, sticking out those thick lips a little so you find yourself staring a little because he looks so good.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” You tease and send a little teasing smirk his way. “I don’t think you could keep up with me anyway.” You wink and bite your lip and finally he’s had enough of the flirting, spotting a door leading to the much quieter corridor outside of the bar, eyes darkening as he pulls you out of the door, swiftly pinning you between the wall and his hips.

“God you’re a little tease, you know that?” He growls, crashing his lips down against yours, hands finding your hips, you can’t stop yourself melting into his touch, hands moving up to his shoulders and gripping his collar. You’re a little embarrassed by the whines you start to let out as his tongue works against yours, moving your hands up into his hair, tugging gently and hearing a low growl from his chest. He presses you back against the wall harder, pulling his lips away from your mouth to kiss down your jaw, gently nipping and sucking at your jaw and neck, hands sliding down onto your ass.

“Jesus… Brendon…” You moan, letting your head drop back against the wall, letting him pull your against him, pressing his hips forward, evidently hard in his smart pants. “Oh my god, please.” You whine and it’s totally involuntary, only realising you’ve just begged for him after it’s already done, and it just makes a huge, cocky smirk forming on his perfect face, despite looking just as flustered as you, pupils blown and hair a little less perfect than it was 5 minutes ago as he leans close to kiss just under your ear.

“Not here, baby girl,” He purrs, low and gravelly, nipping your earlobe, “Guess you’ll be wanting to share that champagne with me too huh?” He teases and steps back from you, neatening up his suit jacket and hair, leaving you flustered against the wall. “C’mon, babe, let’s get back, don’t want to be missing for too long.” Offering out an arm to you, he smiles almost innocently, chuckling when you grumble a little.

“Fucking tease.” You huff, slipping your hand onto his arm, both of you slipping back into the party unnoticed, hoping no one notices the puffy lips and red flushes on both of you, striding over to the bar.

“Another drink, sweetie?” He smiles and leans on the bar, standing facing you as he wait for a bartender and just as you’re about to speak up a voice disturbs you both.

“Ah, Brendon! I see you’ve met my daughter?”

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