#scream chad

And you were just about as skittish as an actual bunny as the fluffy white pom-pom attached to your ass rustled in the grass. Currently, you were crouched behind a bush, heart nearly beating out of your fucking chest as you heard the hoots and hollers of the various boys around.

You weren’t the only bunny. 

There were plenty of girls hiding around campus or dashing across the trails and parking lots of Blackmore University dressed as bunnies. But every man on campus, or at least everyone trying to get into a frat was a fox. Mind you they just had orange paint stripes over their bare chests, no confection or ball of fur needed to be attached to their ass.

Which only infuriated you on account of feminism and not because you had a bad habit of looking away whenever someone was shirtless. Totally. It made keeping watch difficult. And every five seconds your eyes went blurry with the glitter Tara forced into your eyes inner corner. A thick, pure dazzling white she poked there with her finger after she lined your eyes with dark brown gel eyeliner. Then go so far as to add a pretty bright pink blush to your nose and cheeks, and spread a clear gloss to your lips.

Just that and then you were off, out of the sorority, sprinting across the Blackmore University campus, and running for your furry little life. Immediately feeling your quite exposed ass cheeks freeze in the biting fall wind.

You were just thankful you could keep your knee-high boots, as they were heeled yes, but black leather, thus very warm. They even covered the majority of your stocking-clad legs. The large bunny ears glued right into the headband snug on your head were so tight it was giving you a migraine, especially when you had to double back for them twice because you ran too fast against the early September wind.

You had two hot pink flags on each side of your hip, and no one had touched yours yet. you were free.

You wanted to say you weren’t trying hard or you never usually took these types of childish games seriously but it would be a lie. You take EVERYTHING seriously and your heart is racing so fast on account of the fact you’ve fallen into that cloying and tempting trap of pretending it was real. Like you were truly being hunted like you might die, and it wasn’t too far-fetched with the masked murderer going around NYC. But you tried not to think of that. To think of anything else as you finally saw him.

Chad.

He was nearly gasping as he slowed from his dead sprint, his tanned and built chest rising and falling harshly. The tilted orange stripes were dull when you first saw them on his brown skin, but now they proved stunning in the moonlight. You allowed one glance, a second to note the soft light casting deep shadows across his muscled abdomen, leading your eyes to his sharp v-line dipping past the hem of his dark blue jeans. The sight was past your eye line but not your mind. And sweat was running in perfect droplets down his chest, the veins in his hands prominent as he clenched them, as his eyes darted from tree to bush to tree and bush. Looking for you.

Your heart pounded harder as he stopped dead still, right in front of your bush. A good twenty feet away. But he made you. Thinking of options you noted you could run, but something told you it wouldn’t do you much good.

But if there was one thing that you loved more than escapism through these types of games, it was fucking winning these types of things. So with your hands sliding down your hips, you checked to see if your flags were still there. And with a soft touch, you picked up a rock and chucked it into the bush across from you and watched as his head swerved towards it. As soon as his attention left you, and you no longer felt that hot iron brand to the side of your face, you dashed.

Some might say running in heels was difficult, especially in the platforms you were in that almost made you taller than Chad. They are correct, as you find it is indeed difficult. Especially on grass.

In a mere second, you hear this man catch up to you, your tired heart jumping at the thundering footsteps quickly echoing yours. With one of his strides, being three of yours, truly damning your advantage of being a past track star.

And when thickly muscled arms wrapped around your waist and pull you up like it’s nothing, you scream. Even though you know it’s Chad. Because he wears the same cologne and you saw him spot you. But mostly because he picks you up like it’s nothing always, no matter how many times you say you’re ‘too heavy’ for him to do so. It was the way he was gentle and firm, not yanking you into the air. Instead, it felt like he was helping you there almost.

But the fact his warm sweaty arms were around your bustier-clad middle had your pulse racing as fast as a rabbit's run.

“Gotcha'” he purred near your ear, laughing as he heard you squeak.

“Chad, put me down!” you lament, voice tired, obviously disappointed too. You had been so fucking close to winning. Hadn't seen another bunny in hours. But you just heard him hum out a 'no'.

His hand is now on the back of your plush thighs, your tits pressed firmly against one side of his back, painfully smothered against the strapless push-up set, the underwire digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Chad my boobs will fall out!” you squealed, face beet red, fists pounding sadly at his spine. To no avail. He didn’t even so much as flinch and you knew it was because you never actually hit him hard, you couldn’t even imagine it.

“Sounds like a good time for me. Wanna switch sides so I get a good view?” he asked, voice deep and teasing. But the smug drawl was cut off as the lip of your boot slammed into his bare ribs. And you were laughing into the starry night sky as he huffed out a harsh breath, gripping your thighs higher, almost fully folding over.

“Can’t hurt a man for trying, or I would’ve said that eventually if you didn’t quickly prove that you would indeed hurt a man for trying.” He rasped, voice fake pained. Back in the teasing sing-song tone that made your eye twitch.

Then he ripped the flags off your hips, pausing for a second as if to soothe the area there, hand firm and warm against your cold rear, your face flushing at the soft caress. And you just gave up. Honestly, truly, gave up, as he carried you across the vast freshly cut fields and through twisting trails, hell half the quad as other partygoers watched and laughed at the sight. But it wasn’t mean-spirited like you expected, it was almost camaraderie, but you still felt a bit like a child in time out. Helped by your huffing as you rubbed at the glitter in your eyes, sick of the burning it caused you. Hating the pain in your spine from the slumped-over posture. But as Chad reached his dorm and dashed up the stairs, to the very obvious approval of his frat mates, if their whoops and smirks were any consolation, you stopped whining about it.

Just taking the bouncing of your tits and head against his back in stride. Soft and feverish cheek smushed to his shoulder blade, just focusing on the ground beneath you, tracing the tattoos you could reach on his back.  It’s almost an unconscious action if you could ever touch him and not be fully aware of it. But you couldn’t.

You had been in love with him for years, and although he was an affectionate person, his touch never ceased to give you jitters. No matter how many years passed, it had been thirteen. It never failed to make your stomach flip so quickly and suddenly you’d think you were on a rollercoaster that just dropped 3 stories in height.

“So, are you planning on skinning and eating me?” You muse, one hand propping up your cheek, elbow purposefully digging into his muscled shoulder hard. He laughed a beautiful sound that had your cold thighs squeezing together.

“If that means I get to see you naked, then yeah.”

“Chad!” You yell, going to kick out at him again before he flipped you back over to his chest, cradling you like one might a bride, your boobs pressed harshly against the side of his chest, nearly spilling out of the small cups.  

“Okay, so you caught me..” you roll your eyes hard, trying to play along, knowing he wouldn’t drop it without your playing it up. “Whatever will you do with me now, Mr. Fox?”

He snorted, hoisting your ass under one arm and fiddling with his dorm keys in the other, his own heart skipping at your gasp at the action, your soft and perfect arms thrown casually around his neck in a vice grip.  

“I understand why they took away your barking privileges when you played Nana in Peter Pan that one year. Your acting sucks.” he laughs, smiling down at your scowling self, trying desperately to take you seriously with the soft white bunny ears on your head. But it was difficult, what with them being all fluffy and big, with a hot pink center, the right one folded over slightly for optimal effect.

“Whatever. I wanna go home and shower, Chad. Been running from sweaty dudes all night.” Your eyes fall to the carpeted floor, now actually glad he was carrying you, not wanting to get your nice leather boots sticky with whatever marred the boy's dorm carpet. You could only imagine. And instead of taking the bait to tease you, flirty personality stroked, he went quiet.

“You are home,” he said, voice soft, no ounce of teasing there and your gaze shot to him. And you felt yourself swallow hard, blinking back tears you would have sworn came from the glitter.

“Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking me to stay over?” You tease, heart, pounding a mile a minute, feeling sweat trickle down your neck, sticking your hair to your shoulders as you tilted your head up at him, curious and waiting. Soft and sure, gentle. No judgment there. From the warmth in his eyes, he knew that.

“Yes. And figured I earned it since I caught you. Plus you’ve been working too hard lately. You need rest.”

The tears fall now as his words swallow you whole, making that tension building for weeks, bunched in your shoulders subside. You could only sniffle and nod, understanding the truth in his words. The reality. You had been running yourself into the ground with club applications, sorority pledges and rush, all of it too much.

“You’re right. Just this once,” you nodded slowly and sincerely, “I’m surprised too.”

Chad rolled his eyes so hard that you laughed through your tears. “Okay. Am I sharing your bed, or camping out on the floor? Or is your roomie home, the cute one?”

He scoffed, hand pressed to his bare striped chest in mock offence. “I am the cute one, not Ethan Landry.” he bit, pushing open the door and stepping inside over the frame with you still in his arms. It felt a little like you had just been married, but you dashed that thought down before it could truly take hold.

“Sure. whatever you wanna believe..” you coo, eyes narrowed in mockery.

He just shook his head, glancing up at the clock on the far wall. “He’ll be gone 'till two am. Can get out a movie, shower and get to bed before then, huh?”

Nodding, you flushed deeply as he handed you a basket he kept on his desk. Eyes widened as you took in its contents. It had your glasses container (your spare), contacts, tampons, pads, Burt’s Bees chapstick (wild cherry) and your favourite makeup wipes. You smiled wide at him.

“This is giving relationship.. like you really like your bestie.”

He shook his head quickly, cheeks heating under your teasing tone. “No.”

“Ehhh I don’t know, this is giving no commitment issues actually. it’s giving I want you in my dorm and life so much, I made a special box of your stuff for you.”

“It’s giving all that?” he mocked, glancing at the tiny basket cradled in your lap, but you just nodded firmly, lips pursed in surety.

“We’ll then maybe it’s accurate…” he whispered, breath soft.

And you felt like you had been punched, mouth agape in shock for a mere moment before you pulled it together as your head spun. “Then let me shower before this glitter makes me fully blind.” You groan, throwing in the last bit because you know he’d give his ever so clever and original ‘you’re already kinda blind’ without it.

And you hate that you loved him for it. Hate that you loved him period. Hate that you wanted him so much it ached, that it made tears spring to your eyes when you thought of it at home in your dorm.

Knowing that after your shower in his bathroom, you would steal his shirt and boxers and crawl into his twin-size bed, the laptop screen lighting up the room as he pulled you in closer by the waist, his face half in the bend of your neck and half watching the screen. Bare chest pressed against his oversized shirt he lent you. It made you so excited you might actually scream. But you knew from the many past experiences so similar to this one, that it was hard to fall asleep like that. When you were surrounded in sheets that smelled like him, generally surrounded by him, with his bare arms around you. In those moments it was hard to deny you wanted him. And you needed to because he was your best friend.