Brendon Urie imagines and smut

Snow days

I hear Brendon yell and rush into the front room, concerned, but he's staring at the window in child-like wonder, the white flakes outside settling on the windowsill.
"It's snowing." He tells me, eyes glittering with excitement. "It's snowing!"
I laugh at his expression of awe and wonder. "Yes. Tends to happen in winter."
He rolls his eyes, and then resumes his persona of hyperactivity. "C'mon."
He grabs my hand, and tugs me to the door. I try and pull him back, but he's too strong; and he's soon bundling himself and me in thick winter coats.

The garden is no longer green- instead it's a mix of soft whites and the harsh transparancy of ice crystalized on the door handle. I look and see Brendon standing with his tounge poked out, frowning in concentration as he tries to catch a flake in his mouth. His hair is already dusted with white, and his mocha brown eyes contrast starkly to the bland scenery. By reflex, one of his hands is stretched out palm up, white settling on his fingertips.

When he catches me looking, he laughs, but I can't tell if the red flush on his cheeks is from embarrasment or the biting cold. Even after laughing, he can't get the grin off his face as he scans the roofs of the other houses that are blanketed in a creamy colour.

A snowball smacks into my side, and it wakes me up enough to glare at him whilst he chuckles deeply.
I huff and ball up some snow of my own, compressing it into a sphere, and his amused expression is replaced with one of surprise when my own snowball breaks on his hair, making it even more wet.

"You'll pay for that!" He shouts, but I'm prepared for his attack and duck behind a plant pot. The snowball thuds into the pot, as I expected, and he lets out a noise that's a mixture of disappointment and admiration.
I let out my own noise of surprise as I'm tackled to the floor. Brendon stares down at me with a sly grin, and leans forward and kisses me softly. I'm only just responding when he smushes a handful of snow in my face.

"Payback." He manages to say through bouts of laughter.
I push him off and shove him playfully. "Can we go inside?" I say, defeated, but still smiling.
He nods and opens the door for me. We both enter, and he tells me to sit on the sofa whilst he busies himself in the kitchen. After five minutes he's back with two steaming mugs and a huge blanket.

I shuffle slightly as he sits. He kisses my cheek softly, and then slings an arm around my waist, his hand settling on the curve of my hip. The blanket is thrown over us, but he's already warming me up enough as it is.
He chuckles to himself after I lean my head on his shoulder, but then he does the same with his own head on top of mine. He only shifts to press a kiss to the top of my head, his hair tickling my forehead, before mumbling a quiet 'I love you.'

"What was that?" I say, smiling, and he laces his fingers with mine, rubbing his thumb up and down my hand.
"I love you." He repeats. He cups my face with his warm hands and kisses me sweetly again. Our foreheads are still touching and I take the time to observe the little flakes of snow still in his hair; the taste of chocolate on his breath, his slightly puckered lips, the way his eyes are shining- and the rosy red tinge on his cheeks that hasn't gone away yet.

We fall asleep to the quiet patter of snowflakes on the window.

-Freya 🍳