Evan walked into the living room with a massive shopping bag, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. He grinned, holding it out to you with a mischievous smile. "Alright, Roxy," he said, dropping the bag onto the coffee table with a soft thud, "I went all out. I got you everything. I mean everything. Makeup, accessories, clothes—hell, I even got you some shit you might not want but could probably use."
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He winked, clearly proud of himself, as he took a seat next to you. "You can thank me later, but right now, just appreciate that I spent way too much fucking money on this, alright?" He laughed and nudged you with his elbow, clearly eager to see her reaction.
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Roxy opened the bag, her eyes scanning over the array of stuff Evan had gathered. There was a mountain of makeup, skincare products, female hygiene stuff, and a set of bras and underwear that made her snort. "Jesus, Evan," she muttered, holding up a lacey black bra. "What the hell? Did you raid Victoria's Secret? You know, for someone who isn’t my boyfriend, you're getting way too familiar with my personal stuff."
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Evan smirked, clearly unbothered. "I figured you'd appreciate it," he said, still grinning. "If I gotta buy you bras, I might as well get the ones that look like they could start a fucking fire. Not the kind of crap my mom used to pick out." He chuckled, reaching for a set of bracelets that you could wear to cover your self-harm scars. "And if you ever get tired of people staring at your arms, these will do the trick. They’re like armor, but make it fashion."
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Roxy couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, pulling out some of the makeup, "You seriously went all out on this shit. I mean, do you want me to look like a fucking model or just, like, get a cute, basic look?" She paused, glancing up at Evan with a smirk. "Because if you keep buying this stuff, I'm gonna have to start charging you for this kind of attention."
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Evan threw his hands up. "Hey, it’s for the cause, alright? If I’m helping you get through whatever the hell you're going through, I’m damn well gonna make sure you look like a goddess while doing it. I’ve got standards, Roxy."
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"Yeah, yeah," she shot back, holding up a box of feminine products with a raised eyebrow. "I guess I should thank you for the tampon stockpile, too? Did you get the ‘super’ ones or are we just going regular? Don’t want to be caught off guard here."
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"Well, you know," Evan leaned in with a grin, "I wasn’t sure what you’d need, so I bought the whole fucking aisle. I figured you might be throwing a rave or some shit." He winked at Roxy, clearly finding the situation hilarious. "That way you can survive your period and go get shit done."
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Roxy laughed, shaking your head. "You're a fucking mess, Evan. But I guess I’ll take it. Even the weird stuff."
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Evan just shrugged, his smirk never leaving his face. "Hey, it’s what friends do, right? Get you the good shit and make sure you don’t have to settle for some cheap knockoffs."
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"God, I swear, you're something else," she muttered, but the warmth of gratitude was starting to replace the sarcasm in her voice. "Thanks, seriously."
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"Don’t mention it," Evan said, eyes sparkling. "If you need anything else... ANYTHING, just let me know. I’ve got a whole fucking line of things to keep you pampered." He wiggled his eyebrows, making it clear he was joking—sort of. "Plus, if you really want to, I can teach you how to use half of this stuff. But I’m not saying I’m the best makeup artist in the world. More like... self-taught, from YouTube."
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Roxy raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly very entertained. "Oh, God. That’s it. I’m doing my own makeup from now on." she laughed, imagining Evan with a contour palette in his hand, trying to figure out which side of the brush to use.
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"HeY!" he protested, "I’ll have you looking like a fucking masterpiece. Don’t you doubt me."
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Roxy couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of it all hitting her in the best way possible. It wasn’t just about the products or the jokes. It was about the fact that Evan had done all of this just for her—no hesitation, no questions asked. Even if he was being a complete idiot about it, she knew he had her back in a way no one else did.
"Wait, so you shopped with your mom for her bras, did she ask you for an opinion in the dressing room? Roxy asked
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Evan's face turned bright red, and he threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh, for fuck’s sake, Roxy! No! Why are you like this?!"
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Roxy smirked, leaning forward. "I mean, come on, Evan. Did she at least ask you if the lace was cute or if the underwire was working? Like, ‘Evan, honey, does this give me support?’"
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Evan groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Roxy, stop! I’m literally begging you."
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"Just answer the question, Evan," Roxy teased, her grin growing wider. "Did you give her a thumbs up or what? Did you say, ‘Yeah, Mom, the floral print really brings out your personality’?"
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Evan dropped his hands and glared at you, though his lips twitched like he was fighting back a laugh. "First of all, you’re disgusting. Second of all, fuck no, I didn’t shop with my mom for her bras. She bought them; I just happened to see them in the fucking laundry sometimes, okay? Jesus Christ, Roxy."
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Roxy gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. "Oh, so you did analyze her bra styles! You noticed the lace details, didn’t you?!"
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"Roxy!" Evan groaned so loud it practically echoed through the house. "I swear to God, if you keep this up, I’m taking all the bras I bought you and returning them."
Evan shook his head, muttering, "I cannot believe I adopted a fucking gremlin."
Roxy shrugged innocently, trying to hold back your laughter. "I mean, why else were you checking out her laundry? Were you like, ‘Hmm, this lacy black number looks comfy.
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Evan threw a pillow at her, his face as red as a stop sign. "Oh. my. God!, I was not checking anything out! I was doing laundry, like a normal fucking person! You’re sick."
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Roxy caught the pillow, grinning. "I’m just saying, maybe there’s more to this story. Did you have a moment where you were like, ‘Wow, Mom, you’re really stepping up your game with the push-ups’?"
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Evan buried his face in his hands, groaning so loudly it sounded like he was dying inside. "Roxy, I swear, I will throw you and every bra I bought you into the goddamn trash if you don’t stop."
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Roxy leaned closer, your grin pure mischief. "Aw, c’mon, Evy. Just admit it—Mom’s laundry sparked something in your emo little heart."
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Evan peeked at you through his fingers, shaking his head in disbelief. "You’re fucking insane. I’m not even going to dignify that with a response."
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Cam, who had been eavesdropping from the doorway, snorted and walked into the room. "Hey, Evan, maybe you should’ve bought yourself a bra while you were at it—sounds like you’re carrying some serious baggage over there."
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"Fuck both of you," Evan snapped, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was about to laugh despite himself.
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Roxy leaned back into the couch, pretending to be completely innocent, though the teasing smile on her face betrayed her. "C’mon, Evan. You’re telling me you’ve never been that close to her, holding the mirror, helping with the zipper? Or maybe you just dropped the mirror and went down to help out in other ways." Roxy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort you were causing.
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He looked like he was about to implode. "Roxy! Jesus Christ, I was helping her with laundry—not anything else!" He threw his hands up in the air, his face bright red, clearly at his wit's end. "I swear, you’ve got a fucking twisted imagination. I was a kid, alright? A normal kid doing normal shit, like folding towels and—" He stopped, glaring at her. "Nope. I’m done with this conversation."
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"God, you’re worse than a meme," Evan muttered, slumping back into the couch, his face still flushed but trying to hide it behind the armrest.
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