Introduction my name is Prince DO NOT CALL ME PRINCIE,PRINCETON OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT
I’m 16 I’m rlly into old music bc it’s just better then the new stuff
Don’t mess with me or any of my guys don’t be upset when I tell you the truth
what do ppl put in here????
Ooc you may call him that but it will make him mad lol do not send explicit asks flirting is fine both oc and canon characters are welcome lol ,he can be rude so keep that in mind ,if you have hcs of him comment them tag me whatever lol my og account is @doodleann
He grew up in new conventing with his mother his parents are divorced/in the process of it they still talk and his dad still stays with there sometimes while he stays in dorms simply bc his brother is still in the house with his girlfriend.his older brother Raphaël teases and picks at him 24 7 which is why he is so defensive.his family is very poor/lower middle class his mother is a functioning alcoholic which does not help with needing money or their relationship
He’s best friends with Hal they go everywhere together he’s pretty close with all the greasers but he’s good at getting under ppls skin so most times theirs a bit of hostility towards him but that’s with everyone the only difference is with the greasers he doesn’t mean it half the time
He flirts/picks on everyone he thinks he can expect for the bullies/townies he ain’t looking to get hit with a baseball bat or humiliated
EXTREMELY insecure about himself so he puffs up to try to hide that fact
He is a drama queen
He likes singing and was in choir for a while he keeps this as hidden as possible
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How come every time I talk to someone they always look so CONFUSED when I say something like I was talking to Thea and Sam the other day somehow we got on the topics of Halloween and I was like ya know Thea you could totally dress up as tracy or amber from hairspray They both looked at me like I was dumb!
It’s an old dance style I guess…real fun tossing people around and stuff..I can show ya how if ya want…it can get real fast if ya good at it..…and yes it would be..
Survived, 2,000 words, a fic about older @prince-nel meeting older sam after a few years
💙💙
The bass from the cheap speakers thumped against the walls of the dive bar, a repetitive, rattling heartbeat that vibrated through the floorboards and up into the spokes of Sam’s wheelchair. It wasn't the kind of place a Hearst would typically be caught dead in, but Sam wasn't feeling particularly typical tonight. He sat at a small table near the back, the location chosen strategically to avoid the path of the stumbling patrons but close enough to the low stage to see the sweat flying off the performers.
Chanel, the little white applehead Chihuahua, was fast asleep in a designer tote bag nestled in Sam’s lap, his small head resting on a folded silk scarf. Sam stroked the soft fur behind his ears with his thumb, his other hand wrapped around a glass of soda water with lime. He had bleached his hair platinum since the last time he walked the halls of Bullworth Academy, the color a stark, icy contrast to his dark eyebrows and the heavy eyeliner he’d learned to apply with precision. His shirt was blue silk brocade. He felt good. He felt expensive in a room full of cheap thrills.
The emcee, a guy with a handlebar mustache and a vest that had seen better decades, announced the next act. "Alright, settle down ya animals. Put your hands together for the man with the voice like velvet and the moves like a panther. Give it up for Prince!"
Sam’s grip on his glass tightened. He knew that name. He knew that voice.
Prince walked onto the stage. He looked older, harder around the edges, but the swagger was identical. He wore his auburn hair pulled back into that signature pompadour with the swirl, the curls catching the harsh stage lights. His skin was still a warm tan, glowing under the heat of the lamps, and his amber eyes scanned the crowd with a practiced, predatory laziness. He wore a dark purple button-down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that looked stronger than Sam remembered, and his nose was still perfectly crooked.
The familiar opening chords of a rockabilly number started, and Prince grabbed the mic stand, leaning into it like a lover. When he sang, his voice was a gravelly smooth baritone that cut through the noise of the bar, rich with emotion and a soulful ache that made the hairs on Sam’s arms stand up. He moved with an easy grace, swaying his hips, pointing at people in the crowd, working the room with a confidence that made it hard to look away.
Sam watched him, his heart doing a complicated rhythm against his ribs. Three years. It had been three years since graduation, since Prince had vanished to escape the shadow of his brother Raphael. Three years since Sam had sat in his dorm room, crushing hopelessly on a guy who had flirted with him constantly but never seemed to realize the effect he had. Sam had changed so much since then. He wasn't the shy, unconfident, fragile boy hiding behind bandages and oversized sweaters anymore. He was an art student, a business heir in training, a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
And looking at Prince now, Sam realized he still wanted the same thing.
Prince finished the song to a scattering of applause and a few rowdy whistles. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and signaled to the band for a break. He hopped off the stage, grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler near the back, and started heading toward the bar, which was fortunately situated right past Sam’s table.
Sam took a breath, checking his reflection in the compact mirror he kept in his bag. His hair was perfect, his eyeliner sharp. He adjusted the collar of his shirt. "Chanel, wake up, darling," he whispered to the dog. "We're about to see a ghost."
Prince was chugging the water, his Adam's apple bobbing, when he passed the table. He didn't look up immediately, his eyes focused on the floor as he navigated the crowd. Sam cleared his throat, a deliberate, sharp sound.
"Long time no see, darling."
Prince stopped dead in his tracks. He froze, the water bottle halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he turned, his eyes widening as they landed on Sam. For a second, he looked confused, his gaze darting over the platinum hair, the earrings, the tattoos peeking out from under Sam’s sleeves, before settling on the wheelchair. A slow, incredulous grin spread across his face, transforming his features from the weary performer into the boy Sam used to know.
"No fuckin' way," Prince breathed, walking over and ignoring the empty chair across from Sam to lean right against the table, invading Sam's space in that way he always used to. "Socs? Is that actually you?"
Sam smiled, tilting his head back to look up at him. "In the flesh."
"Holy shit," Prince laughed, setting the water bottle down and crossing his arms. "Look at you! You look... damn, Sam. You look like a rock star." He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he decided to hell with it and gently touched the platinum strands of Sam's hair. "Blonde? And the earrings?"
Sam leaned slightly into the touch before pulling back with a playful shrug. "Figured if I was going to be stuck in my chair most of the time, I might as well be fabulous while doing it. Nice to see you haven't changed a bit, though. Singing for your supper in dives?"
Prince laughed, a loud, boisterous sound that made a few heads turn. "Hey, a gig is a gig. Pays the rent, keeps me away from home. I'm surprised to see you in a place like this. Last I heard, you were off learnin' how to run a car empire or somethin'."
"Art empire, actually," Sam said, gesturing to the bar around them. "But even future art dealers need inspiration. And I like the ambiance. It's gritty. Real." He looked down at his lap where Chanel was starting to stir, poking his nose out of the bag.
Prince followed his gaze and did a double take. "Is that... is that a rat?"
"It's a dog, darling," Sam scolded gently, lifting the little white dog slightly. "This is Chanel. And he has better manners than half the people in this room. Say hello, Chanel."
The dog let out a tiny, high-pitched bark.
Prince cracked up, crouching down so he was eye-level with the dog. He offered a finger for him to sniff. "Of course that's what ya named him. Hey there, Chanel. Nice to meet ya. I'm Prince. Don't let the name fool ya, I ain't royalty." Chanel sniffed his finger and proceeded to lick his hand enthusiastically. Prince chuckled, scratching him behind the ears. "Alright, he likes me. That's a good sign. Usually dogs hate me."
"He has good taste," Sam quipped, watching Prince interact with the dog. It was strange how easy this was. The years seemed to melt away, leaving only the comfortable banter they used to share. "So, are you sticking around town? Or just passing through to break a few hearts and leave?"
Prince stood up, wiping his hand on his jeans. He leaned back against the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes holding a hint of something guarded. "Stickin' around for a bit. Got a few gigs lined up at the Boxing Gym bar and maybe the Ten Pins. Needed a break from the city. Too much noise, you know? Figured Bullworth was as good a place as any to hide out. Might swing by and help Hal at the autoshop a bit."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Hide out? From what?"
"Life," Prince said vaguely, waving a hand dismissively. "Raphael's still an asshole, if that's what you're asking. Hopefully he's busy terrorizing someone else for a while." He looked Sam over again, his expression softening. "I'm glad you're doing okay, Sam. Really. You look... happy. Stronger."
"I am," Sam said firmly. He tapped the armrest of his chair. "This chair doesn't define me, Prince. It just gets me from A to B so I can save my energy for the things that matter." He paused, letting his eyes linger on Prince’s face, tracing the line of his jaw. "Like catching up with old friends who are too dense to realize they were being flirted with in high school."
Prince blinked, then a sheepish look crossed his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit Sam remembered well. "Yeah, well. You know me. I ain't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I thought you were just bein' nice. You were always buyin' me stuff, helpin' me with my homework... I figured you just felt sorry for the poor greaser with the bad grades."
"I never felt sorry for you, darling." Sam said, his voice dropping an octave, losing some of its playful edge. "I thought you were beautiful. And I liked that you weren't afraid of me. Most people looked at the wheelchair and saw a project or a tragedy. You looked at me and saw Sam."
Prince stared at him, the noise of the bar fading into the background for a moment. His amber eyes searched Sam's face, and for the first time, the easy-going facade slipped, revealing something rawer underneath. "I saw you," Prince said quietly. "I always saw you, Sam. I just didn't think I was allowed to want what I saw. You were way out of my league. The rich pretty boy and the grease monkey? That ain't a movie that ends happy."
Sam felt a flush rise up his neck. He hadn't expected Prince to be so honest, so vulnerable. It was a side of him he had only glimpsed a few times, late at night in the dorms, or during one of their ill-advised ghost hunts in the basement. "Well," Sam said, his voice slightly breathless, "it's 2011, Prince. The genre rules have changed. And I'm done letting other people write my script."
The emcee’s voice crackled over the speakers, breaking the tension. "Alright, break time's over! Let's hear it for Prince one more time!"
Prince straightened up, the mask sliding back into place, though his smile was warmer now, more genuine. He looked back at the stage, then back at Sam. "I gotta go. They'll riot if I don't get back up there."
"Go," Sam shooed him. "Knock 'em dead."
Prince started to turn away, then stopped. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He held them out to Sam. "You smoke?"
Sam looked at the pack, then at Prince. He took the pack, but instead of taking one, he tucked it into his own jacket pocket. "I don't smoke. But I'll hold onto these for you. As collateral."
Prince laughed, shaking his head. "Collateral for what?"
"For a promise to get a drink with me after your set," Sam said, his heart hammering against his ribs. "A real drink. Not water."
Prince looked at him for a long moment, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mix of mischief and something deeper. He leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of Sam's wheelchair, bringing his face close enough that Sam could smell the cologne and the faint scent of stage sweat.
"You got yourself a deal, Hot Rod," Prince murmured, his voice low and rough. "Don't leave without me."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam replied, holding his gaze.
Prince grinned and turned, bounding back toward the stage with a renewed energy. He grabbed the mic, shouting something to the crowd that made them cheer, and counted off the next song.
Sam sat back in his chair, his hand resting over the pocket where he’d put the cigarettes. Chanel settled back into his lap, sighing contentedly. Sam watched Prince move under the lights, the way his body swayed to the rhythm, the way he commanded the attention of everyone in the room. It was incredible. For three years, Sam had wondered what it would be like to see him again. He had built up fantasies in his head, conversations that never happened.
But this? This was better. Prince was still Prince— oblivious, charming, and completely unaware of the effect he had— but he was also something more now.
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What ya meaning peach? Your pretty,pretty to me Prince gives a little chuckle and smile but it’s dampened as he takes her hand soothing over her knuckles with his thumb tell me what’s the matter peaches..ain’t gotta struggle with it by yourself
Thea didn't bother to know what he was doing , him physically showing to her he cares for her. her eyes focus on her stomach.
That's the fuckin' matter. My body. I don't know how else to tell you.. Thea's face turns red. red as if she's on the verge of tears.
I don't know what to do..I don't know who to talk to.. Scott had Galloway and I don't have a single fucking soul to speak to about my problems. I'm sorry bringing this to you, nel..
her eyes visibly showed tears now. she couldn't hold it together.
Oh peach..you can tell me everything…I ain’t scared…he doesn’t let go of her hand just gently tugged her closer taking it in both hands I ain’t…ain’t good at this stuff if I’m honest peach.. but I sure can try…I know it might not help but ya perfect to me…
you're good just by listenin'..or whatever..I just want to talk to someon- I don't care if you're not the best man,Prince. I can't care.
she didn't hear his compliment until now.
How? how am I perfect? I'm perfect to Gary, the head,any other bitch.. I can't see that! just tell me the best you can,I can't care for this!
she's sat near prince, looking at him with desperation and tears. this is the few times she's let her guard down,and it's only when she can't deal with her role.
He pauses before gently pulling her closer petting through her hair twirling the dark curls around his fingers ya need a list?….besides the fact ya real pretty he said smiling again small and sweet your the funniest girl I’ve ever met, even when ya not meaning to sometimes I just and can’t help but smile…then ya hair of course he said still smiling trying to lighten the mood of course I’m an expert in the field it’s not just pretty it’s magical got the prettiest curls I’ve ever seen nough to make me jealous bout it…and ya attitude oh don’t get me started on that now he said still smiling twirling her hair with his finger still ya got enough bite to scare a shark off…ya might not be perfect…but I don’t like perfect.. only crazy’s like that over rated junk he gave her a light kiss on the cheek then
Thea listened to the words but didn't look at him in the eye,just kept looking at the floor. or his blouse- she couldn't get herself to look at him and she didn't know why. However she admired his affection. she can't doubt so.
That's whatever,man..I'm sure other men think of this- I don't know.. I'm sorry I'm not acting the right way..fuck,dude..
Who cares what other people think Thea…or how ya act hell if you even stay here with me…it’d be alright…long as your alright peach..with that he leans his head in her shoulder and hums the sound was softer then it had any right to be his hand was rough again hers just gently clutched almost cradled in his hand no sharp tug of skin or pulling just presence
with that, he leans his head in her shoulder and hums. the sound was softer then it had any right to be. his hand was rough against hers just gently clutched,, almost cradled in his hand. no sharp tug of skin or pulling- just presence .
SORRY I HAD TO FUCKING GRAMMARLY THAT I GENUINLT HAD TO REWRITE IT. FOR MY SAKE
Uh huh..she didn't sob as much anymore. only a few tears she wiped off abnormally fast.
I don't know wheter I'm alright at times. that's everyone's issue. you don't look at the poster and think if she's alright- you just admire how she's so SEXY or HOT or you need a second glance. That's a batshit intention. i couldn't care until now..ughh..
she's annoyed at herself. she liked prince's saying,but it caused her to rant about her on covers and magazines like her mother.
..Can i stay here?.. asked she. I can't go back...I can't go home but sometimes I cant stay here. whatever your desire is. I can't fucking care anymore..
Ya ain’t a poster….he said almost sternly,not nearly as biting as Prince could have been,maybe should have been.Yea peach..ya can stay…Prince sounded tired now rubbing her knuckles as gentle as he could
What ya meaning peach? Your pretty,pretty to me Prince gives a little chuckle and smile but it’s dampened as he takes her hand soothing over her knuckles with his thumb tell me what’s the matter peaches..ain’t gotta struggle with it by yourself
Thea didn't bother to know what he was doing , him physically showing to her he cares for her. her eyes focus on her stomach.
That's the fuckin' matter. My body. I don't know how else to tell you.. Thea's face turns red. red as if she's on the verge of tears.
I don't know what to do..I don't know who to talk to.. Scott had Galloway and I don't have a single fucking soul to speak to about my problems. I'm sorry bringing this to you, nel..
her eyes visibly showed tears now. she couldn't hold it together.
Oh peach..you can tell me everything…I ain’t scared…he doesn’t let go of her hand just gently tugged her closer taking it in both hands I ain’t…ain’t good at this stuff if I’m honest peach.. but I sure can try…I know it might not help but ya perfect to me…
you're good just by listenin'..or whatever..I just want to talk to someon- I don't care if you're not the best man,Prince. I can't care.
she didn't hear his compliment until now.
How? how am I perfect? I'm perfect to Gary, the head,any other bitch.. I can't see that! just tell me the best you can,I can't care for this!
she's sat near prince, looking at him with desperation and tears. this is the few times she's let her guard down,and it's only when she can't deal with her role.
He pauses before gently pulling her closer petting through her hair twirling the dark curls around his fingers ya need a list?….besides the fact ya real pretty he said smiling again small and sweet your the funniest girl I’ve ever met, even when ya not meaning to sometimes I just and can’t help but smile…then ya hair of course he said still smiling trying to lighten the mood of course I’m an expert in the field it’s not just pretty it’s magical got the prettiest curls I’ve ever seen nough to make me jealous bout it…and ya attitude oh don’t get me started on that now he said still smiling twirling her hair with his finger still ya got enough bite to scare a shark off…ya might not be perfect…but I don’t like perfect.. only crazy’s like that over rated junk he gave her a light kiss on the cheek then
Thea listened to the words but didn't look at him in the eye,just kept looking at the floor. or his blouse- she couldn't get herself to look at him and she didn't know why. However she admired his affection. she can't doubt so.
That's whatever,man..I'm sure other men think of this- I don't know.. I'm sorry I'm not acting the right way..fuck,dude..
Who cares what other people think Thea…or how ya act hell if you even stay here with me…it’d be alright…long as your alright peach..with that he leans his head in her shoulder and hums the sound was softer then it had any right to be his hand was rough again hers just gently clutched almost cradled in his hand no sharp tug of skin or pulling just presence
What ya meaning peach? Your pretty,pretty to me Prince gives a little chuckle and smile but it’s dampened as he takes her hand soothing over her knuckles with his thumb tell me what’s the matter peaches..ain’t gotta struggle with it by yourself
Thea didn't bother to know what he was doing , him physically showing to her he cares for her. her eyes focus on her stomach.
That's the fuckin' matter. My body. I don't know how else to tell you.. Thea's face turns red. red as if she's on the verge of tears.
I don't know what to do..I don't know who to talk to.. Scott had Galloway and I don't have a single fucking soul to speak to about my problems. I'm sorry bringing this to you, nel..
her eyes visibly showed tears now. she couldn't hold it together.
Oh peach..you can tell me everything…I ain’t scared…he doesn’t let go of her hand just gently tugged her closer taking it in both hands I ain’t…ain’t good at this stuff if I’m honest peach.. but I sure can try…I know it might not help but ya perfect to me…
What ya meaning peach? Your pretty,pretty to me Prince gives a little chuckle and smile but it’s dampened as he takes her hand soothing over her knuckles with his thumb tell me what’s the matter peaches..ain’t gotta struggle with it by yourself
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"Heard you've been hangin' round one of those prep's, Kid. She been tellin' you anythin' bout that Gord, anythin I'd needa know?"
(@newcoventryking)
Uh…not really..not from her at least.. but I heard overheard him talking about inviting her to a big party sometime he said something bout getting a fancy dress for her..I would cracked his head but..he was uh..talking with the big one….but! I totally over heard him crying like a baby bout her last time I was..uh..around the prep house but sorry I’m not much help John boy
It’s an old dance style I guess…real fun tossing people around and stuff..I can show ya how if ya want…it can get real fast if ya good at it..…and yes it would be..
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Hm.. are you interested in that prep girl?? Hmm I think her name was Jazzy..
( @prepsnewkid )
Uh…she’s alright, pretty enough for sure…I like her spunk.but Like Ive said shed be funner if she was a original but uh yea we could be link and tracy ;)