All Hail The King || Brendon Urie x Reader

VII

You loved your best friend. She was quick-witted, drop dead gorgeous, and fierce as hell. But she was also stubborn, and that trait alone often got her into trouble.
So here you stood; at the foot of LA's hottest club, desperately trying to keep your already too short dress from riding up any further as the Macie gives a sweet smile to the bouncer. Muscular arms crossed over his chest, he towers over the two of you.
"Damnit May," he caves. You can't hide your surprise at his surrender, his hand already reaching for the velvet cord blocking out the rest of the line — the one that stretches around half the block, the one you both skipped. A few grumbles can be heard behind you as Macie pulls you inside.
"Call me sometime?" He asks hopefully, clipping the buckle behind you. His hazel eyes seem to shift from blue to green.
Macie only smiles, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before turning away. The man shakes his head, smiling nonetheless. You watch dumbfounded.
"Hey, uh-" you jab a thumb over your shoulder- "Who was that?"
Between the purple neon lights and her makeup, you can't tell whether or not she blushes. "You remember Scott? Him and I went out just before I dropped out of college."
"That's Scott?" Your eyes bug out of your head. Macie snorts. "You always made him sound like he tends to a flower garden with a big sign that says Save the Bees! Not the damn bouncer at Vices!"
She stops walking, using the wall to support herself as she continues to laugh. You look back at him, watching the black fabric of his t-shirt strain over his wide shoulders.
"Dude looks like a smaller, white version of the Rock!"
Stumbling upright, she throws an arm over your shoulders, continuing forward. She sighs, staring up at the ceiling, eyes flicking to each light you pass under.
"I've missed this, Y/N, holy shit," she says, her laughs escaping at the edges. The doors to the club slide open, the bass that was rumbling through the walls making your insides hum. "Drink first?"
You shrug, the chill of the night chased away by the maybe hundred people moving and dancing through the room. Macie takes her arm back. Looking around, the club reminds you of the one from the show Lucifer.
The stairs descend to the low lit dance floor, stopping just before the bar. Dark tiled floors hold specks of gold. The center of the room dips down one step, an elegant, polished piano remaining untouched by any of the patrons. It was actually pretty classy.
Macie stops at the bar, flagging down the bartender. The woman nods in acknowledgment, finishing up the drink in her hand. She trades the glass for a few bills. Tightening her already perfect pony tail, she rests her elbows on the counter.
"What can I get'cha?" Despite the badass look of her flawless makeup, her eyes are warm and her voice is smooth.
"Rum and Coke," May answers, pointing at herself before looking to you.
"A, uh-" you glance briefly at the wall of liquors ahead of you- "Washington Apple?"
The bar tenderer nods and turns away, not before Macie makes your order a double. You roll your eyes, smiling as you tugging at your dress.
"You trying to get me drunk?"
She grins, wiggling her brows. "Maybe," she drawls. She smacks your hand away from the hem of the skirt. "Quit fidgeting, would ya? You look great!"
You catch your reflection between the bottles, turning this way and that to see the intricate cut of the back, leaving your skin exposed. You purse your lips.
"I hope so," you reply loudly. "Two hundred dollars for a dress I'll wear once in my life better make me look goddamn gorgeous."
The bartender comes back with your drinks. Macie hands her a twenty before you can even blink, laughing at your comment.
"Trust me," she shouts over the music, her glass clinking with yours, "it's not just the dress that makes you look gorgeous."
You roll your eyes again as she winks, both of you taking a drink. You appreciate her sentiment, but one glance at the women adorned with jewelry and very little clothing dancing on raised platforms remind you that there's still better, and in no way could you compare. But you kept that to yourself.
The song changes and Macies eyes light up. Taking your drink from your hand, she sets it on the counter, already dragging you to the dance floor.
"Rihanna always was your jam," you laugh.
"Hell fuckin yeah it is!"
For the first time in a long time, you let yourself go. Your hips sway to the beat, your fingers tangling themselves in the loose curls of your hair.
The music rises and falls, unable to settle on a tempo. Something about the thrum of the bass or maybe the shining of the lights made the clock stumble, drunk on the experience.
You open your eyes, not sure when you closed them, finding Macie in the crowd of people. Weaving through the bodies, you take hold of her bicep.
"Bar," you shout simply. She nods, wiggling out of the hold of the stranger behind her. You lean towards her so she can hear you. "Aw, you're making friends! How cute!"
Now it's her turn to roll her eyes. "Oh fuck off!" She laughs as she says it. "Ya'know something, I think you- holy shit."
Not realizing she'd stopped, you step ahead of her, confused when you turn to see her frozen. "May? What's wrong?"
She tugs you close, tipping her head. "I was gonna say something about you needing to make friends, and I'm thinking handsome over there looks like the perfect candidate."
"Who-" You follow her gaze, stomach doing flips when you make eye contact with the man she's referring to.
His brown eyes — almost black in the low lighting — flick away from you and to his friend. Raising his glass in a toast, the edges of his lips curl in a small smirk. But as they both move to drink, his gaze returns to you. His friend says something to which he nods absentmindedly. Running a hand through his styled hair, his teeth catch his lower lip, the tiny action downright sinful.
"Earth to Y/N!" Macie steps in front of you, freeing you of your trance. You practically jump when you realize you're looking into her curious green eyes instead of his tempting ones.
"What?"
She grins wickedly. Anxiety bubbles in your throat, and only when you snap her name does she speak. "You two were so eye fucking."
Your expression hardens, sparing him one glance over her shoulder before giving her a stiff, "No."
Suddenly, a drink sounds wonderful. An entire liquor cabinet, actually. Macie tries following you through the crowd, barely able to but somehow managing. You flag down the same bartender.
"Give me a shot of anything," you say flatly. "No Hennessy."
She nods and turns away. Macie takes your arm, forcing you to look at her. The curiosity has faded and worry is beginning to settle.
"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"
The woman sets your drink down and you take the shot in one go. It burns but that was to be expected. You order another.
Letting the liquid courage give you a boost, you grit your teeth. "That was him."
Your best friend looks through the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of him again. "Him?"
"Brendon."
Realization floods her features, her jaw dropping. "That's Brendon?!"
You nod, taking your second shot, your insides warm. You think you recognize it as Jack Daniels. The cheaper stuff. The stuff you can afford to down an entire bottle of.
"Oh my god! You never told me he's-"
"The devil incarnate?"
"-fucking hot."
You groan, finally looking at her. She gapes at you, clearly having her world turned upside down at this revelation.
"May, he's not the kind of guy you think he is-"
"Well, he seems to be the love em and leave em type." You wince, eyes dropping to the sleek steel countertop. "Oh god, I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't mean it like that. I just-"
"I know, I know," you mumble, knowing she can barely hear you. You raise your voice, trying and failing to lighten the mood, "He does give off that Cali fuckboy vibe though, doesn't he?"
"Actually," she says carefully, "he really doesn't." You shake your head. With no one stopping her, she continues. "I mean, of all the women in this place, he was looking at you. That's gotta mean something, right?"
You lift your shoulders. "Not really. Not when it comes to him."
Despite the pounding music, silence edges its way between you both. You order another shot, but when it's placed in front of you, all you do is stare down into the amber liquid.
"I have an idea," Macie declares suddenly. "Let's make him jealous."
You turn your head, brows furrowed as her eyes skit across the room. "Do what now?"
"Make him jealous. See what he does."
She says it like it's no big deal, but she's not the one who's about ten seconds away from being paraded around.
"And why would I do that?"
Macie looks you in the eye, very sure of her answer when she says, "Because boys can be stupid and impulsive. If you can manage to get in his head like he's been in yours, we can mess with him. Get him riled up and if he makes a scene-" she claps her hands once as if to prove a point "-you have the perfect opportunity to finally ask him what his deal is!"
Now would be a good time to mention that persuasion is also one of Macie's traits that got her into trouble. And here you were, nodding like a dumbass.
"Good!" She leans forward, looking over your shoulder. "Because there's your best bet."
She winks, folding into the crowd as you turn to look at the man weaving towards you. He smiles, one dimple pressing into his scruffy cheek.
"Hey," he says warmly, "I'm Jack."
"Y/N," you reply. On the outside, you lean back against the bar top, body curving with one knee popped out. On the inside, you were in the middle of a tailspin.
"I don't know if you're from around here, but this is kinda the dark jewel of LA," Jack says jokingly.
You smile. "Actually, I am from here. Born and raised." You chuckle as he scratches the back of his neck. "You?"
"Seattle."
"Ah," you nod, "a northerner, I see. Nothing like home I'm sure."
"No, not at all," he laughs, flashing his pearly whites. The crowd parts for just a moment, allowing you to see that Brendon remains in his seat, eyes trained on you — on Jack. The shadows cast over his face, making him look akin to dangerous. "But that storm a couple weeks back was a nice refresher of what I had, ya'know?"
"Yeah," you reply distantly. Jack turns motioning to the bartender, and comes back with two drinks in hand. Offering you the unknown cocktail, you shake your head, twisting to grab your shot. "Nah, I've got mine."
Jack shrugs, smiling as he raises his glass. You mimic his actions. You frown when you realize the quick distraction made you lose Brendon as he's no longer in his seat. Swallowing the drink in one gulp, it burns differently, scratching the back of your throat in a nasty way. You stand up straight, flatting a hand against your chest as you cough. It tastes terrible but you can't quite place why.
Jack's hand is warm when it rests on your back. "You okay?"
You attempt to answer, but only end up coughing again. You wheeze, "Water,"
Jack catches the bartender and she quickly hands you a new glass. You drink slowly, feeling your breathing settle. Setting the now empty glass back down, you feel your face flush.
"I'm sorry," you say, voice hoarse. "I don't know what that was."
"Wrong pipe, apparently," Jack laughs weakly. You try to smile, but it's strained as your head spins. "Wanna chase it down with something else?"
Uncaring of the makeup Macie fussed over only hours before, you rub your eyes. "N-no, I'm done."
"You don't look so good," Jack mumbles, barely audible over the music. "Do you want to go outside?"
An arm wraps around your waist making you jump, trying to focus your vision. Another hand cups your face, and when your hazy eyes clear up, you sink into his hold.
"Y/N," he says, tilting your head. "I need you to look at me."
"Brendon?" You mumble, your tongue strangely heavy.
His brows pinch together. "How much have you had to drink?" Your face scrunches up, shaking your light head. "How much?"
"Three," you answer.
He grits his teeth. "Tess! What'd she have?"
"Three shots of Daniels, and like a drink from a double Washington," comes the bartender's voice.
Your head rolls. Nose pressed to Brendon's chest, you inhale deeply, drowning yourself in his cologne. The cool metal of his rings touches your flushed skin.
"What's that gotta do with anything? So she's a lightweight. So what?" Came James voice. No, not James. James, Jamie, Jam- Ja- Jack! That was his name.
"Except she's not a lightweight," Brendon snarls. "Zack."
There's a scuffle, a hand taking hold of your bicep, fingers pressing into your skin. You cry out, but it's gone before you can swat it away. Not that your efforts would've been any good. Another arm sweeps up your legs as Brendon cradles you against his chest.
"Stay awake, doll. I need you to stay awake for me."
And despite how badly you wanted to listen, whatever deity watching over you had other plans, and you promptly passed out.