deadly class imagines ━ marcus lopez arguello

❝queen bitch❞

requested: featuring "god i don't know if i want to kiss you or slap you right now"

the air was surprisingly warm as you were huddled outside, smoking your menthol cigarettes between class periods. you were humming a random song to yourself as one of the legacy boys sauntered over to you. you knew he was gonna ask for a cigarette so you grabbed one from your box, your lighter already sparking.

"how did you know-"

you cut him off.

"i know everything. i also know that you hardly ever smoke and were gonna ask for one just for an excuse to talk to me," you expertly exhaled a cloud of smoke as the boy was taken aback, a blush fanning his cheeks.

"and before we get acquainted, you should know i don't associate with viktor or any of his commie friends," you smirked and the boy scoffed while walking away, tossing the unsmoked cigarette into the bushes.

"_____, queen bitch. how are you today?"

marcus lopez arguello emerged from the shadows, plucking the last boy's cigarette from the bushes and lighting it himself. you could see the butane sloshing in his neon green lighter.

you greeted the boy with a smile and a hug. ever since you and marcus were recruited for king's dominion and practically kidnapped on the same night, you've been best friends ever since. you both bonded over your similar cynical personality types, plus you're both sad kids that are into indie comics. you learned the ropes around king's much faster than marcus, and for a "rat" you're fairly popular among the boys- outcasts and legacies alike. you're alluring, which in your case has been known to be synonymous with bitch (unfortunately.)

"just peachy, arguello. just peachy. how did it feel, getting your ass handed to you the other day?" you smirked.

he frowned as his hand subconsciously grazed the bruise that bloomed beneath his cheek bone. instantly you felt slightly guilty for bringing it up, but you had a reputation to uphold, though it was more like a facade. you're a lot more established at king's dominion compared to the nicaraguan boy. you joined a gang, thus gaining protection. still, you deeply care about your friendship with marcus, which is a constant struggle; because your feelings for marcus have blossomed into something more than just friendly.

"i don't know, how did it feel hooking up with viktor? i thought you didn't associate with him 'or any of his commie friends'?" he blew a cloud of smoke in your direction.

you rolled your eyes. you didn't hook up with viktor. not literally. unfortunately you were stuck with him during a game of seven minutes in heaven, which was more like seven minutes in hell.

"did not," you replied quickly.

"yeah, like hell you didn't," he teased.

"no, marcus. i actually didn't," you flicked ash into the wind before allowing the butt of your cigarette to land on the asphalt before it was smothered by your sneaker.

"fine, fine, I believe you. thank god you didn't. you can do way better than him," he ran a hand through his messy curls.

"gee, marcus. thanks for that. god, i don't know if i want to kiss you or slap you right now," you squinted as your voice dripped with sarcasm.

he tossed the butt of his cigarette into the bushes before smiling a radiant, boyish grin.

"oh please, don't slap me."

he was coming closer and you were feeling buzzed and dizzy from the surge of nicotine. your eyes widened as his hands cupped your jaw and he guided your lips to his in a chaste, mouth-watering kiss. he completely knocked the wind out of you, you gasped into his throat and grabbed onto his shoulders for stability. soon after, he pulled away with a 'smack', leaving you dumbfounded and practically swooning.

"bet i was better than viktor," he smiled and fumbled for your fingers.

"you asshole, i thought you told me you believed me!"