Taylor Caniff Imagine - I'm Not a "Good Girl"
Request: Bad boy imagine
A/N: I’m not too happy with this ):
Stepping into the school building, the fresh summer air is replaced with the stuffy, old lunchbox smell that clung to the walls of the school. Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I hold your breath and head over to my almost empty locker. Only a few more days, Y/N, then you’ll be out of this hell hole for good. The familiar clinking of locks and locker doors opening, mixing with the chatter of eager high school students surrounds me, snapping you back to reality.
“Hey there babe,” Someone says, leaning up on your locker, preventing you from opening it.
“Can I help yo-oh, get lost Taylor.” I say, glancing up at the stranger.
“Oh come on, I know you want to see me,” He says, running his hand through his hair, “After all, the school year is almost over. How are you going to survive the entire summer without me?”
Meet Taylor Caniff, otherwise known as the ‘bad boy’ of the school. Or as you liked to call him, the douche bag. Girls fawned over him, guys wanted to be him, you for one hated him. He was obnoxious and rude and likes to think that he is the hottest piece of shit the world, let alone the school, has ever seen. Somehow, when you were paired up as lab partners, he came up with the twisted idea that you liked him. And of course, out of all the girls in the school that practically worship him, he chose you as his new little project.
You weren’t going to be like other girls. You refused to fall for his silky hair, and soft brown eyes and you know what, never mind. You knew that if he got you to say yes to one of his many advances, he would use you, get bored with you and throw you away, like he has done with at least half of the school’s female population. You refused to become Taylor Caniff’s new toy.
“Easily,” You state, pushing him away from your locker. “I would like to spend my final high school days in peace, so please, leave.”
“I know you like me.” He smirks, completely ignoring everything that just came out of your mouth.
“Come on Y/L/N, admit that you like me, playing hard to get isn’t working.”
“I’m not playing hard to get, you’re trying too hard. I, Y/N, Y/L/N, do not, will not, and shall not ever, like you. You have harassed me this entire school year, when will you finally realize that I don’t like you! Not every girl you meet is going to kiss at your feet, get over it. I’m surprised you’re even able to get that bandanna across your head, maybe if you stopped being a cocky asshole, your ego and head would both shrink down to normal size! Now if you excuse me, I have class.” You fume, slamming your locker in his face. You march away from him, not even waiting for a response.
“You’re just scared!” He calls out. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.
“Scared? Scared of what?” You reply, whipping around to face him.
“Little Y/N, is scared of getting her heart broken,” He states simply, making his way towards you, “You keep refusing me because you’re afraid. Believe me Y/L/N, if I wanted to bang you and run, I wouldn’t have spent the entire year on you, I would’ve just given up. After all, any girl would be willing to fuck me.”
“Is mocking me and admitting that you have banged all the girls at the school supposed to make me go out with you?”
"Then what’s your point Caniff? I’m going to be late for class,”
“There we go again! ”I’m going to be late for class! Oh no, my perfect attendance record!” He mimics you, his voice overly high pitched.
“Now you’re making fun of me. Yep, I can see why most girls just love you; I mean you really know how to charm a girl.” You say, sarcasm dripping from each word.
“You need to let loose Y/N! Have some fun; take a trip on the wild side!”
“What does that have to do with me going out with you?”
“I am the wild side.”
“Just listen, for once in your life, just listen to me,” He asks. You scoff, folding your arms across your chest, telling him to continue. “I can show you a good time! I can show you the wild side! Spend the day with me and if you still want to stab me with a fork by the end of the day, I’ll leave you alone, for good.”
“For good. You’ll never have to hear from me, ever again.”
“Fine,” You respond, “I will take you up on your offer.”
“Really? I’m shocked, I thought you’d smack me and leave.” He says, leaning back against the locker.
“Well, I said yes so when do you want to do this because I really need to get to clas-”
“Now.” He says frankly, as if he didn’t just ask you to skip class.
“But we have class!” You exclaim, “I can’t skip class!”
“Oh come on, I thought I broke you! Stop trying to be the good girl everyone expects you to be. Surprise them Y/LN.”
“I am not a good girl.” You scoff.
“Only bad girls skip class, so prove to me that you’re not a good girl, skip class with me.”
“I’m not a good girl!”
“Oh please, you’re a goody two shoes.”
“I am not.”
“Oh yeah? At last week’s locker search were you not hiding alcohol in your locker?”
“What? Of course I wasn’t!”
“Really?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I wasn’t hiding it in my locker; some guy shoved it in there last minute!”
“And why did he do that?”
“How should I know?”
“Was your locker searched?”
“Of cou-no it wasn’t, Principal Braddock just walked right past me,” You say, your voice trailing off, “I am a goody two shoes.” You mutter.
Taylor smirks to himself. “You’re the goodiest goody two shoes I know. Would you like to break your reputation today?”
“You know what, let’s go.” You state, dragging Taylor by the arm towards the parking lot.
“Uh, I am not riding on a motorcycle.” You state, eyeing Taylor’s big, black, Harley.
“I don’t feel like dying today thank you very much.”
“You won’t die, now hop on.” He slips on his sunglasses, and sits down at the front of the seat.
“Remember to keep your feet away from the muffler,” He says as he adjusts his bandanna in the mirror. “Now, you’re gonna have to hold on to me, so try to control yourself.” He says, winking at you from over his shoulder.
“Haha, you’re hilarious. Why don’t I drive? Then you will have to hold on to me.”
“Believe me babe, I’d love to hold on to you, I really, really would. But I highly doubt you can drive this, you didn’t even want to get on it a few seconds ago.”
“I’m not going to hold onto you.”
“Suit yourself.” He states, revving up the engine. I climbed onto the bike and made myself as comfy as possible. I wasn’t planning to hold on to him, but as soon as the bike began to move, my arms laced around his waist. I could feel his stomach vibrate as he laughed. “Shut up.”
“Here we go babe!” He zoomed through the parking lot, and when we reached the entrance, he asked me where I lived. I told him to take a right and we coasted down the road. I’d never admit it, but it felt amazing! The wind was rushing through my hair, the sky was directly above us, and I could smell Taylor’s beaten up leather jacket and strong cologne. The smell was addictive, I found myself inhaling the scent once or twice before catching myself. The hum of the engine and howling wind fills my ears, I love it. It feels nothing like riding in a car.
“You okay?” Taylor calls over the sound.
“Faster.” I yelled out, seeing him smile in the rear view mirror.
“As you wish.” He responds, throwing the bike into gear and dashing across the empty lane. It felt like you were just launched from a gun, you felt like a bullet soaring through the air, it was amazing.
Despite the fact that we were speeding and skipping class, I was having the time of my life. As the wind blowing around us began to slow down, I noticed that Taylor was pulling into my driveway.
“Are your parents’ home?” I shake my head. “Good.”
He extends his arm out to me, which I gladly take. “How do you feel?” He asks as I unlock the door.
“Amazing. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.” You sigh, stepping into the cool air conditioned house.
“It’s adrenaline. You’ll get used to it the more you go on the bike.”
“What makes you think I will go on the bike again?”
“I just feel it Y/LN. You got anything to drink?”
“In the kitchen, help yourself.” You point towards the kitchen and he rushes off, returning with two beers.
“Uh, Taylor?” You gesture towards the beers.
“What? You said help yourself.”
“Yea, help yourself to something legal! You’re not 21.”
“Is goody two shoes coming out again?” He teases.
“No!” You defend. “Gimme that.” You mutter and he tosses you the bottle. Popping off the lid, you chug the beer, feeling the alcohol spread through your body. You weren’t a big drinker, actually, you didn’t drink, end of story.
“Want another one?” Taylor asks as opens up his second beer.
“Mmhmm.” You nod.
Sitting down beside Taylor, you rest your head on his shoulder, stretching out onto the couch. You finish up your third of fourth beer, feeling a bit tired yet alive at the same time. Taylor pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. The few bits of common sense you have left are telling you that he shouldn’t be smoking in your house, but the alcohol has taken over your body. You couldn’t care less.
Your eyes drift across his body, examining every inch of him. He was very attractive, that was obvious, but you never felt as if you wanted him until now. Without thinking, you reach up to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. “Hey Taylor.” You mumble slowly.
“Hmm?” He says, glancing down at you.
“Make out with me.” You state simply, sitting up to face him.
“What?” He looks surprised, heck, you’re surprised, but you meant what you said.
“Make. Out. With. Me.” You state, connecting your lips to his. He wastes no time and kisses back instantly, his lips tasting of beer, making the want stronger. You deepen the kiss, climbing onto his lap, his tongue slides into your mouth, gently running over your tongue, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan softly, grinding your hips into his crotch, wanting more. Pulling away from the kiss, you bite his lip, tugging on it.
“Why’d you stop?” He whines.
You smirk to yourself, completely ignoring him. “Patience is key.” You growl, a new found confidence in your voice, most likely caused by the three or four beers you consumed.
He gulps loudly and nods his head. You reach down to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slowly until you finally tug it off. He stares at your bra clad body and smirks, enjoying the sight unfolding in front of him. Crawling over to him, you straddle his waist. Lowering your mouth to his ear, you whisper,“I’m not a good girl."