♡Sweetheart♡ ||Brendon Urie x Reader||

Chapter 1

Hello it's me again!

I just wanted to start out by saying that this book is going to be VERY different than my first book, but I'm sure it will still interest you!

This is a reader insert story, but it is in first person.

This chapter is also going to be kinda long. . . But it's mostly because of the spacing of paragraphs.

WARNING: A few sensitive subjects and vulgar language, but I didn't want to mark it as mature because it shouldn't get too extreme. If it does I will be sure to mark it mature as soon as possible.

This book updates every weekend!!

He looked at me, stared me down, his dark eyes hovering over every part of my body, and resting certain places to take everything in. His soft lips twitched upward in a perfect smirk, daring me, or perhaps himself, to come closer. I wanted him to speak to me, to touch even just my cheek, but his hands stayed at his sides, and his mouth didn't open.

Not that it needed to, of course. His eyes did all of the speaking for him. They danced around the full room, and although they were dark, they still had a luster. They were so clear that one could possibly see the whole room reflected in them, but at the same time, they were dull.

They reminded me of the clouds currently drifting outside the window, which gave hope of rain for plants, but meant a fierce storm was coming; two-sided was the word. His eyes were still a beautiful dark brown, though they hid most of his secrets. They gave off a whole different emotion. A new one I've never known of. One that I didn't know how to describe with a word other than confusing.

And passed the thin-strapped dress I had been forced into wearing, his eyes found the strange, heart-shaped mark on my shoulder: the one I'd had as long as I could remember. They stared at just that mark, like it was all I was. It was as if it was all I had to offer. And yet, with them searching me, and with how hard they were to read, they were alluring in the most confusing way possible.

His attire didn't fail him either: he was dressed in normal black dress shoes and black slacks, but adorned a vintage tailcoat of the same color over a white collared shirt, and a maroon bowtie. They were styled in such a way that gave a casual vibe despite the formality of them. What was strange, though, was that his clothes weren't an average black. They were much, much darker, and almost screamed the word danger. The only light part about him was his skin, his undershirt, and the whites of his eyes.

Now, this formal party was held by him, for him, and it was held in his home specifically, in his formal room, with his drinks and delicacies. His second home, to be exact. In this home he would have his parties and let those who were too wasted to drive home stay the night in the bedrooms, and his first home was where he actually lived. He would always stay another day in this home after a party to tend to those who needed him. That was always a very caring thing of him to do.

And everyone admired a rich man. Especially if his face didn't age with passing years and he never sprouted a gray hair - not that he was old enough to, though. He may have been rather young, but he wasn't seen often outside his large home. But on certain occasions - usually on holidays or important birthdays - he would throw a party like this one.

And I got caught up in the mess. I don't seem to be protesting right now, but not even two hours ago I was holing myself in my room to avoid having to go to a fancy event like this. My father was getting a job here as a butler, as the pay was better than what a doctor might get, and for the occasion my father expected us to both show up at this party to make a good impression. I wasn't exactly fond of dressing up as most girls were, but now that I saw that man, I didn't mind it at all.