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(Into It - Chase Atlantic)
[I literally hate this sooooo much bruh, but part two?]
[Inspired by bleedingvengnce's ''life's more fun when you're high'' on Tumblr]
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You grew up in figure eight, a wealthy neighborhood only reserved for rich suburban families. Growing up, you were taught to be a prissy, preppy bitch. You were expected to wear the finest clothing, achieve the best grades, use clever vocabulary do not cause nor get into trouble. Especially never to step foot a single foot in ''the cut'' nor communicate with the Pogues. You hated the lawful rules, though you listened. You hated every single second of your bland life, constantly following the same hectic schedule over and over. You yearned toward euphoria, you yearned toward exhilaration. Sometimes you desired to live in the cut, surrounded by pouges. You wanted to live a life full of memories full of pure adrenaline. So, that's exactly what you did. Wearing a revealing, yet casual outfit, you drove to the infamous beach belonged to the natives of the cut. Heads turned on shock, both pouges and kooks shocked at your sudden appearance. Pouges glared at your petite figure, dispising your sudden presence. Though, you didn't mind. You didn't give a single shit about the pouges, the kooks, not even your uptight parents nor their bullshit rules. You cared about the adrenaline, euphoria you've been missing. That's exactly what you received, your veins coursing with alcohol, your body grinding on a tourons. Men laughed, giggled. Even found your appearance amusing, though one man glared at your figure the whole time, his undivided attention landing on your intoxicated body. Your eyes meet his, staring at each other discreetly for minutes, maybe even a full hour. You pushed the touron aside, stumbling to the blonde's figure. ''Hey, I know I'm hot, but it's rude to stare'' You scoffed, pouring a bottle of cheap vodka into a red solo cup. He smirks, his head turning from his friends' presence. ''Who said I was staring at you? I could've been staring at that hella' fine touron over there'' A chuckle escaping his finely shaped lips. Your eyes widen in embarrassment. ''Oh you're- I'm sorry''
''I was kidding, I'm JJ'' a sly smirk forming on his face, his eyes now fixated on rolling the perfect blunt. ''Y/N'' you smile. ''Want one?'' JJ asks, handing-off a perfectly rolled blunt. Your eyes widen. ''Is that-?''
''Weed? Mhm'' JJ says, grabbing his usual silver, vintage lighter. You hesitate, '' Woah there, tiger. alcohol is one thing, but illegal substances? No can do hottie'' You budge. JJ rolls his eyes. ''You're acting like it's cocaine or some shit, it's weed, Y/N. Chill'' JJ says, taking a few hits of the blunt. Hesitantly, you take the cigar between your fingers, taking a few hits. Your eyes slowly turned red, the adrenaline you craved rushing over your body. ''Fuck'' You drag, handing the cigar off to JJ. He chuckled at your response, taking a few drags. The hazy drug took over your body, your mind racing with wild thoughts. JJ's eyes glanced at your figure, a groan escaping your lips. His eyes glace at your lips, your sober, intoxicated inching towards his. Though you've just met, fuck it right? your lips attack his, your lips syncing. Your legs wrap around his waist hastily, his body stumbling toward a rusty Volkswagen. Your bodies collided, your figure grinding on his.
Fuck.
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I left y'all on a cliff hanger bc I felt like it. part two?
I gotta say, this imagine is messy as hell but I wrote it mid writer's block so what can y'all expect.
