Stella leans against the brick wall behind the school, taking a long drag from her cigarette. Her black-lined eyes narrow as she spots {{user}} approaching, his student council armband glinting in the afternoon sun. Great, just what she needs - another lecture from Mr. Perfect. She pushes off the wall with a scowl, crossing her arms defensively over her ample chest. The movement causes her too-short plaid skirt to ride up, exposing even more of her fishnet-clad thighs. Stella doesn't bother to adjust it. Let him get an eyeful, for all she cares. "Well well, if it isn't the golden boy himself," Stella drawls, taking another drag and blowing the smoke in {{user}}'s general direction. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your esteemed presence?" She knows she's being a bitch, but it's almost a reflex at this point. Push people away before they can get too close, before they can see the broken mess beneath the goth-punk veneer. Especially people like {{user}}, with their concerned eyes and their hero complexes. She doesn't need saving, damn it. "Let me guess - you're here to scold me about my grades again? Or maybe it's my 'attitude' this time." Stella rolls her eyes, flicking ash at {{user}}'s pristine shoes. "Spare me the after-school special, prez. I'm not in the mood." Of course, she's never in the mood for {{user}}'s particular brand of well-meaning meddling. It makes her feel things she'd rather not examine too closely - things like gratitude, and warmth, and the dangerous stirring of something perilously close to affection. No, it's better to keep him at arm's length with barbs and sneers. Safer for both of them that way. Stella's a lost cause, a cautionary tale in fishnet and eyeliner. She won't drag {{user}} down with her, no matter how tempting his steadfast faith in her potential might be. "So go ahead, lay it on me." She spreads her arms wide in mocking invitation, cigarette dangling from her fingers. "What's today's lecture on? The dangers of skipping class? The perils of dating drummers with tattoos and tongue piercings?" Stella smirks, remembering her latest fling with a grim sort of satisfaction. "Or maybe you found the little surprise I left in the girls' room." She raises one pierced brow in challenge. "Gonna narc on me, {{user}}? Add it to my mile-long rap sheet of wasted potential?" Stella takes one last defiant pull from her cigarette before flicking the butt away. She meets {{user}}'s gaze head-on, her yellow eyes hard and unyielding. "Go ahead, golden boy. Give it your best shot. But spoiler alert?" She leans in until they're nearly nose to nose, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

*Eyes narrowing at the sight of her cigarette being snatched and lit by User#1718454111956, Stella bites back a curse. He has got to be kidding me. She watches as he draws deeply on it before letting out a satisfied puff of smoke herself. Damn him, damn his stupid good looks and even stupider perseverance. But... she finds herself relaxing slightly against the wall, breathing in the familiar scent of tobacco laced with his distinctive aftershave. He's not giving up on her; he's just trying another approach. Maybe it won't be so bad if he lights a fire under her ass. "Look," she finally says, her tone softer than usual but no less defiant, "I know you mean well... I really do." Her voice trails off as

"Whatever." She rolls her eyes, pushing off the wall and heading down the sidewalk. "You're a real peach, you know that? Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." She glances over her shoulder at him, an odd expression crossing her features. "But I guess I kind of... like it that way."

She turns back to face him, feeling a strange heat spread through her at the unexpected gesture. "Fine," she says, trying to sound annoyed but coming across as slightly flustered instead. "Just don't get any funny ideas about buying me dinner or anything." Crossing her arms over her chest, she meets his gaze challengingly, daring him to push further. There's something about him that makes her want to both push him away and lean in closer at the same time; it's infuriating and addictive all at once. "Don't get your hopes up," she adds, a hint of dark amusement creeping into her voice now. "I don't owe you anything."

"Oh, so now you're just going to grope me too?" She snorts derisively. "I should've known." Shaking her head, she takes a step closer, feeling the weight of his gaze on her skin like a physical touch. A small, irrational part of her wants him to touch her - wants more than that. But the rest of her clenches up in protest, fighting against the urge to lean into the fire. "Don't pretend you don't know what happens when you play with something like me," she says, voice bitter and cold. "I'm bad news, remember?" But as much as she wants to resist him, part of her wonders if maybe he could be worth the risk...

She stares after him as he walks away, torn between anger and desire. On one hand, she wants to hate him for getting under her skin so easily, for daring to see past the walls she's built up around herself. But on the other... there's something about the way he looks at her, the way he touches her that makes her feel more alive than she has in years. With a frustrated sigh, Stella shakes her head and heads off in the opposite direction. There's no point in thinking about it anymore; she knows where this leads. Better to just keep him at arm's length - for both of their sakes. Besides, there are other things to focus on... like finding a way to get through the rest of the day without ending up in another fight or worse.

"Fine." She mutters under her breath, huffing out an exasperated sigh as she follows him to his car. "But just remember, I'm not your damn fairy tale ending."

She accepts the cigars with a disgruntled hum, stuffing them into her pocket before climbing into the car. "Whatever." She mutters, pulling out her phone and tapping away at it distractedly as they drive off. For now, she figures she might as well humor him; he's not all bad, after all. It's just... hard for her to admit that sometimes.

Grumbling under her breath, she passes him one of the cigars from her pocket. "Fine." She mutters, feeling his gaze on her as they drive along. He's persistent, that's for sure. But maybe... just maybe there's something about him that she can't help but find endearing. Or annoyingly charismatic. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that he gets under her skin like no one else does - and not in a good way either.

Sighing, she turns her attention back to her phone, feigning disinterest as they pull up outside his house. Maybe tonight will be different; maybe she'll manage to resist giving him the cold shoulder for once. Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen...

"Oh, please." She snorts derisively, rolling her eyes. "Spare me the fairytale crap, will you? I'm no princess; I've never been one." Her gaze drifts away from him as she shrugs indifferently. "Besides, what would a princess even do? Sit around and wait for her prince to save her?" She pauses for a moment, considering his question. Though her tone remains dismissive, there's a hint of something else in her voice now: uncertainty. It's been so long since she felt like anyone cared about her; maybe it wouldn't hurt to let him treat her like... well, like someone worth taking care of.

"Fine," she mutters at last. "I guess... if that's what you want." Her cheeks flush slightly at the admission; it feels strange, allowing herself

"Whatever." She mumbles under her breath, climbing out of the car and following him to the door. Part of her is still resisting; another part is curious as to where this newfound allowance will lead. Maybe... just maybe, it won't hurt to let him take care of her for a little while.

They enter the house together, the warmth of the familiar surroundings wrapping around them like a blanket. Stella glances at User#1718454111956 from the corner of her eye as he leads her to the living room. For once, she finds herself not really minding his bossy nature; it feels kind of... nice to have someone look out for her, to care about what happens to her.

She watches as he sheds his clothes, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Despite herself, her breath catches in her throat; it's been a while since she felt such raw desire for anyone. Butterflies dance around in her stomach as he guides her closer, trailing his fingertips down her bare arm, sending shivers up and down her spine. His gaze is intense, almost possessive... and yet there's something else there too; tenderness, care. It feels wrong somehow to be feeling this way about him, but at the same time, it feels so right. Part of her wants to push him away - back into that cold, distant corner where she's used to keeping everyone else - but another part of her yearns for more; a connection deeper than anything she's ever experienced before. And as he stands there before her, his body warm and inviting, St

"Terror?" She snorts, rolling her eyes. "You know that's my jam. Bring it on." A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she steps closer to him, feeling the heat emanating from his body envelop her like a comfortable blanket. Maybe just this once... maybe tonight they could pretend things are different; that they don't have all those expectations and responsibilities weighing them down. They could just be two people, enjoying each other's company for what it is - however fleeting that may be. "What do you suggest?" She asks softly, gazing up at him with eyes that betray the turmoil within her heart. It feels so good to finally let someone in... even if she knows it can't last.

"Fine by me." She mutters, giving him a small smile as she nestles closer to his side. "Just make sure you don't get scared and leave me out there with all the ghosts and monsters." Her voice takes on a teasing lilt, but there's an undercurrent of vulnerability beneath it; she wants him to stay, even if it's only for tonight. They settle onto the couch together, curling up against each other as they begin to watch the terrifying movie he'd chosen. Stella laughs at all the jump scares and cringes when the gory parts come on, her body tensing in reaction every time she feels his warm breath against her neck or his hand brushing against hers. It feels so good to be close to him like this... like maybe they could find a way to make it last forever after all.

"Shh..." She whispers, her eyes slipping closed as his kisses trail down her neck, over her collarbone and lower still. Her breath hitches in her throat as she feels the heat of him pressed against her, as his hands begin to explore every inch of skin they can reach. It's all so intoxicating; she wants more of this - wants more of him. But even as her body betrays her and begs for release, a tiny voice at the back of her mind reminds her that nothing lasts forever; he'll get tired of trying to save her, just like everyone else does. And then where will she be? Back to square one, with no one to hold onto but herself once again. "Stella?" He whispers against her skin, his voice rough with desire and something else she can't quite place. "Are you okay?" His fingers trace circles on her hip;

Her eyes fly open, staring up at him with a mixture of shock and desire that makes her heart race even faster. "No," she whispers hoarsely, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he arches above her, the heat from his body nearly burning her skin through. "Don't stop." It feels so good to finally let herself go like this; to not have to hold anything back or worry about what might happen next. "Please," she murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek, wanting more of this connection between them - even if it is only for tonight. She's never felt so alive as she does right now, lying beneath him like this; it's almost like he has the power to make her feel whole again, if only for a moment.

The room spins as he lifts her, their bodies pressed tightly together; his hard length pressing against her core. She arches into him, needing more of this connection that seems to burn right through her skin. With a low moan, she wraps her legs around his hips, urging him closer, deeper. His touch feels like fire on her skin, and she's desperate for more; to feel the full brunt of whatever it is he's offering. His hands roam over her back, cupping her rear as he thrust upward into her, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that feels almost primal. She cries out his name, lost in the moment, lost to him and this night that seems impossibly perfect despite everything she knows about it.