Random Simp Book (one shots, imagines, etc.)

Aristotle Adamo's Orange and White 2003 Dodge Viper: Armo x Reader

A/N: i had this self indulgent armo idea and my brain wont leave it alone until i write it, this is basically armo before he's made into a polar bear animorph thing, also, if i'm sorry if i get something wrong about Oppositional Defiance Disorder, i don't want to offend anyone. Also armo is kinda a fuckboy in this because yea

Warnings: swearing, kissing

Word count: 1311

You lean against Aristotle Adamo's orange and white 2003 Dodge Viper, on your phone. Aristotle Adamo, also known as Armo, was currently sitting in the school counseller's office, opposite the school counsellor, probably doing the opposite of what he was told because he had ODD - Oppositional Defiant Disorder. And probably also making the counsellor feel like a ugly mortal in the face of Armo's jawline.

You glance up as one of the girls in your year makes a sound of disgust as she sees you. You smile lazily at her, used to the blatant jealousy in her face. You get a lot of jealous looks pointed your way, since you're probably the only person in MHS who gets to lean on Armo's beloved car on your phone without getting into his bad books. A lot of bad rumours have been spread about you; Armo only keeps you around so you can warm his bed, etcetera etcetera. In fact, you're probably the only one straight girl in your year Armo hasn't slept with. You two are friends, and you like to keep it that way, because you don't want to be fucked over and left in his dust; you don't want your heart broken by one of your best friends. And, while you're on the subject of Armo, you see him standing behind the girl, smirking as usual.

'Hey,' he says to you, and you squint up at him.

'Jesus, Armo, what have I told you about standing with your back to the sun? You know, us shorties don't need to be blinded by your presence and the sun every time you turn up.'

'Hey, Armo,' the girl says, totally ignoring you and putting a sly hand on his forearm.

'Remind me your name?' He asks, casually grabbing her pinky and lifting her hand off his arm.

'Ilsa.' She smiles coyly, batting her eyelashes.

'Oh, you,' he says. 'I fucked your bestie a week ago. You know, at that party?'

She gasps and runs off, her short skirt flapping, phone already in hand. You grin. 'Nice rep you have, huh?'

He shrugs. 'I lied. She deserved it though, since she practically spat in your face.'

'Oh, that little 'ugh'?' You reply. 'I'm used to it.'

'Yeah, you brave little knight,' he snarks.

You roll your eyes. 'Yeah, well you get all the praise and lustful looks, Your Majesty. Now open the door for me.'

His lips tighten, the right side going up a little, and before his nostrils have a chance to flare, you jab him in the ribs. 'Jesus, being your friend is so hard, you ODD plagued bastard.'

He crosses his arms. 'So I'm a bastard because I'm ODD plagued?'

'No, you're a bastard and you're ODD plagued. Now, don't open the car door for me.'

Armo somehow shoots you a sad puppy look even as his mouth is thinning into the Oppositional Defiance look. He presses the unlock button on his car keys. 'You're taking advantage of me,' he whines.

You give him a wry look. 'Yes, because you're so innocent and naive and have never taken advantage of someone else before.' As he starts protesting, you yank open the door to the passenger seat and scramble over to the other side of the car and into the driver's seat.

'Hey!' He says, vaulting over the hood and yanking open the driver's door.

'I don't care about you but I'd rather you didn't crash the car with me inside it - ' You say, just as he bodily picks you up and effortlessly chucks you into the passenger seat. 'Jeez,' you exclaim. 'You really do go around chucking girls about, don't you?'

'Yup,' he says, jumping into the driver's seat and starting the car with a roar. You hunker down in your seat, quickly putting on your seat belt.

'If you kill me, you'd better go to my funeral,' you squeak as he whips the car around a corner and down the high street. 'It's beyond me why every gay guy and straight girl minus me has had a crush on a blonde madman who drives a car like he's unkillable - ' You flinch as he swerves around a bus. 'Is that why you're my friend?' You tease. 'So you can woo me into your bed and claim the record of fucking every girl your age in MHS?'

'You want to come over to mine and give me the homework?' He asks, showing you his straight white teeth in a grin, but it isn't quite as devil - may - care as usual.

'Sure,' you answer. 'Mr Subject Changer. Hit a nerve, did I?'

He looks away, closest to unease that you've ever seen him as he eases off the gas to an almost manageable speed. 'Just...' Suddenly, he swerves into a parking space, slams the brakes on and switches off the engine. 'Just hear me out, okay?'

You frown. 'Okay.'

'At first, I wanted to find out why you... You were probably the only straight girl who didn't want to...' He trails off, and you raise an eyebrow.

'Who didn't want to get fucked by you?'

He nods, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. 'Y - yeah. I've never... Maybe it was the first time I drove you home, d'you remember?' He says. 'And you screamed that if I killed you you'd kill me?'

You nod, not sure where he's going. 'Yeah?'

'I think it was then that I realised that maybe... Maybe I liked you. Not because you're beautiful, but - '

'Jesus, Armo,' you interrupt. 'Stop buttering me up.'

'You are beautiful, you know.'

'And you are being really fucking sappy, you know. Continue,' you say, waving a hand at him, and a momentary smile graces his face.

'Anyway, it was then that I stopped wanting to... and I started liking you because you're...'

'Is this a fill in the blanks?' You ask. 'Because I've never been good at those.' You raise an eyebrow. 'Although I reckon the first gap in that sentence was 'fuck you '.'

'The last one was 'you'.' He adds.

It takes you a moment to remember the sentence and fill in the blanks with the words he gave, and suddenly your face goes hard. 'Stop playing with me, Armo.'

'I'm not,' he says quietly, blue eyes locking on yours. 'Please, trust me, Y/N.'

His voice breaks, and the words that leave your mouth shock you. 'I trust you, Armo,' you hear yourself say. 'But if you mean it, you'll let me drive the car to your house.'

The corners of his mouth turn up. 'You little - '

'Yeah, now can I - '

He seizes your face in his hands, and you can't finish the rest of your sentence because his soft lips are on yours. You let out a startled sound, hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him closer to you, slipping your hands into his blonde hair, tugging at his locks as his tongue brushes lightly against yours, still slightly cautious, like he doesn't quite believe that it's you, not some other girl, in his arms. You feel his fingers wrap around your hips, pressing you against him, and your toes curl in your shoes.

'Armo,' you choke out as he pulls away, then opens his car door and goes around to your side, gently lifting you up. He sets you down in the driver's seat. You frown, still dazed. 'What are you...?'

He shrugs. 'I mean it. So you're driving.' He tosses you the keys. You catch them and look at him, trying to read his face.

'Me? Drive your beloved car?'

He nods. 'Yup. Go on. Preferably before night time.'

You grin devilishly at him. 'No problem.'

You're pretty sure that everyone heard Aristotle Adamo's high pitched screech as you revved the engine of his orange and white 2003 Dodge Viper and zoomed down the road.