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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

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Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Two: I Think I Wanna Marry You

a/n: here’s chapter two of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

The move itself brings a second dose of reality you never fully thought through.

Seeing Steve there, with his dark BMW, sunglasses on his face. He’s popped the trunk already and it’s with that sudden clarity you’re reminded that it’s happening.

That this is real and not some dream you’ve imagined in your mind.

You’re marrying him. In four weeks. Thirty days, exactly. A countdown to the next three years of your life. The other half of your “paperwork” you’re going to sign when you scribble your name along that certification of your marriage.

You work in comfortable silence. Robin and Nancy come along too for assistance, and with the combination of efforts, Steve’s car is packed in less than two hours. You’re shocked he’s even bothered to do it himself, and not order some sort of moving company. But when you point that out to him, he only shrugs and says he wanted to help.

Apparently it’s the least he can do for getting a wife at the end of all of this.

That and countless zeros on a check that he doesn’t even need or want.

Once your things are all settled in the trunk and backseat, Robin wanders over to where you both stand on the sidewalk, arms looping tight around your frame. She steps back and moves to tousle Steve’s hair, earning a sharp jerk of his body out of contact and an utterance of complaint from the taller man.

With a snort, she says, “You love me, don’t deny it.”

And he does. You know that much. He’s been closer with Robin for a year or so now. A direct result of her relationship with Nancy. Nancy’s job as a journalist, often documenting his life or the accolades of his family, has established a bond between the three. You try to tamper that slight jealousy.

The fact is that both Robin and Eddie have more insight into the man you’re marrying than you do.

You were always too busy, after all. Working or deep in your own studies and missing out on the many evenings Steve invited them all to join him in his outings. You suppose you’ll rectify that soon. There’s a lot two people can learn in three years—if he’s open to it, that is.

That awareness of truly not knowing him settles in as you clamber into the passenger seat, thumb sliding awkwardly over the band of your engagement ring to fiddle idly. He turns the dial on the music, something pop and current, and you lean back against your seat, letting the quiet of the morning wash over you.

You wake some time later to the sound of Steve’s voice in your ear, announcing, “Hey. We made it.”

Sleep lingers in your eyes as you shift in your seat to take him in. Dark eyes greet yours, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his shirt. Your gaze then slides to the imposing building on a side of the city you’ve never really ventured outside of your coffee date with him some days prior.

It stands proud, tall and looming, with workers at the ready, prepped with carts for your things.

“They’ll take care of bringing everything up, and I thought maybe we could grab a coffee,” he suggests, moving to open his door. He tosses the valet his key and waltzes over to your side, opening the door for you. “How does that sound?”

You’re suddenly aware of the state of your clothes. Nothing more than a pair of baggy mom jeans and a striped tee shirt. Some white tennis shoes that are veering on brown in some areas from overuse.

Then there’s Steve, in dark wash jeans and a shirt you know likely still cost him a small fortune. Effortlessly handsome as always with a Chanel watch strapped around the wrist extended toward you.

You take his palm, nearl tripping over the bump of the curb as you go, your side thumping against his. He curls you there instead of letting you go, an arm around your shoulder, waving to the workers as they shift and swirl around you.

Keeping up appearances already, you suppose.

One pauses to dip their head your way, beaming brightly, asking, “It’s the girl from Instagram. Congratulations, Miss. Or rather, soon to be Mrs. Harrington.”

The name drops something akin to cool dread in your stomach. But you smile all the same. “You know what they say. When you know—” You tip your head up to look at him, gripping him by the jaw and giving him a soft wiggle. “You know.”

In your palm, Steve forces a grin. A little wild, a little smushed and silly, but the worker smiles all the same and wishes you both a good morning. Leaves you standing beside your soon to be husband on the side of an unfamiliar street, in an unfamiliar new town, ready to walk into your unfamiliar home.

“Coffee sounds good, actually,” you decide, wanting to be anywhere other than stuck in the awkward silence of the moment, and follow him down the sidewalk.

By the time you return, Steve’s been alerted that all your things have been brought up to the penthouse. Coffee in hand, you walk through the swirling doors, standing as close to Steve as humanly possible without truly touching him. There are people there to greet him, realizations in the back of your mind that he must be well-known. Amicable and kind, they offer warm welcomes to both you and your future husband as you’re led to an elevator that brings you all the way up to the top floor.

It’s from there, you’re brought into the place you’ll be spending the next few years. But what greets you is far greater than you even imagined. Endless floor to ceiling windows that overlook the cityscape. High, vaulted ceilings, impossibly white walls. Dark furniture throughout the living area, the kitchen. Against the living room wall rests the largest television you’ve seen, presently off, though Steve turns it on to allow some music to play and break the awkward silence as he walks you around.

He’s already told you the general layout of his space: two bathrooms, multiple bedrooms, a fully decked out personal gym, movie area, dining area, outdoor patio, a study that also poses as his office, a library. It seems impossible to have this much space, and yet the further into the suite you walk, the more real it becomes.

“Seems not lived in, though,” you comment out loud, taking in the impressively clean place. Especially knowing Steve doesn’t spend much time at all here. “Like there’s all this space and nothing to fill it with.”

He huffs out a laugh, not disagreeing. “You can spruce it up if you want. I’ll give you my card. Whatever you like to make it feel like yours. Because, well, it is yours.”

“Yours, mine, and ours, right?” You awkwardly laugh, walking over to look out the windows and take in the bustling city below. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s…yeah, you know, I guess it is.” He sidles up next to you, peering out where you are. He frowns, contemplative. “I guess I don’t think about it often. I wake up to it every day.”

Another stark reminder of just how different your lives are.

“How was wedding planning with my mom?” he asks, drawing you attention to his face. His fingers card through his hair, his feet carrying him over to the kitchen to pull out a glass. He adds a second, asking, “Anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” you say, hands clasped behind your back as you join him. “We went over color schemes. I ended up with pale pinks, lavenders and a tiny pop of gold. More so the accents. We will be looking for a dress tomorrow. Kind of shitting myself over that one.”

“I can come—if you want?” He suggests, holding your glass in front of him.

“Isn’t that bad luck?” you tease, taking a sip.

“Pretty sure that’s only at the wedding.”

“Right.” The wedding. In thirty days. “I mean, if you wanted to come…”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, opening his phone and showing you the calendar app. “What time?”

“Your mother got us a private appointment at twelve. I told her she didn’t have to do that but—”

“She’s excited. She’s getting a daughter out of this. Sometimes I think she wishes I’d been a girl,” he laughs, though there’s a hint of bitterness there you don’t miss. “Here—let me show you your room.”

You trail after him in silence, eyes taking in everything you pass. Boring, empty walls. No pops of color. No personal photos. Nothing indicative of life. Not even a shred of memorabilia from his childhood, or something of sentimental value from his boyhood. It seems odd, though you don’t press him on it. Instead you allow him to bring you through the tour, before stopping in front of a closed door.

“This,” he says, tapping on the exterior, “is my room. In case you ever need me. And here…”

You walk further down the way and stop in front of another door. “Will be your room. All your things will have already been moved in. You just have to unpack and make it yours. I do have some work I need to get to now, but I’m around if you need me.”

“It’s the weekend…” you point out, fingers around the door handle.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “But with all that’s going on, I want to make sure everything is taken care of before the wedding and our honeymoon.”

Honeymoon.

Right.

To that private island in the Maldives.

A honeymoon for two people who are most definitely not intimate and, therefore, should not be spending money like this is anything more than a mere sham.

Still, your flights are booked, accommodations made, and itinerary is set. It was the first thing his mother had done other than figuring out what color palette you preferred.

“So, uh, I’ll talk to you…later then,” you say, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Yeah, later.” He nods.

And suddenly, you’re Cinderella once more.

Standing there in that doorway, in her too-big home, with that pumpkin instead of a carriage.

Though you’ve never spent much time fantasizing about shopping for your wedding dress, it never quite looks like what you see around you now.

For starters, you imagined your mother would be there. Kind, bright and smiling. There to tell you how beautiful you look, to coax you through your nerves, to remind you that this is the most special day of your life coming up and to just enjoy the moment.

But it’s not. And you’re left standing on a pedestal in front of Mrs. Harrington, your father, sister, Eddie and Robin. Further off in the distance is Steve, phone against his face as it has been since you woke that morning.

Steve’s always busy, you soon realize. In the private car to take you to the boutique? He had a work conference call. In the kitchen while you ate your breakfast? Another phone call. Now here, while a bridal attendant works with his mother to find you some options to try on? He’s got some major meltdown to help sort out.

You understand, and yet there’s a slight sting there you’re not expecting. The idea that he said he would be there for your try-on session, but he’s not really there. Not emotionally, at least.

“Still can’t believe you got Eddie to come,” Caroline laughs, elbowing the man in question as he snatches her up and shakes her vigorously. “Stop it, asshole—”

“Caroline!” your father snaps, leaning back into the couch cushion as another attendant passes out glasses of champagne for all present.

They even manage to find some juice for your sister, so she feels involved with the process.

“So, we picked a few beautiful pieces. A lot of these are brand new, so you won’t have to worry about someone else wearing the same dress—”

“Oh I’m not concerned about—”

Mrs. Harrington clears her throat, waving her champagne flute in the air. “Only the best for my future daughter in law.”

You shoot a weak grin Robin’s way.

Eddie gives you a reassuring thumbs up, arm still around Caroline’s neck despite her protesting.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of trying on dress after dress. Fancy beading, endless lace, plunging backs, dramatic trains, striking silhouettes.

You’re decked in beading from head to toe, diamond encrusted gowns, gowns that look like they’re better suited for royalty than on the girl who grew up in Hawkins. Who worked at her little hole in the wall restaurant and had a normal, unglamorous upbringing.

It hits you as you’re standing there, with a veil that looks to be studded with expensive jewels, staring at your own reflection that this isn’t you. None of these are. And even if you’re marrying someone to help them fulfill a will and to secure a debt for your own self, there’s a part of you that wants to do things your way.

If you’re going to get married to Steve Harrington, you want to feel like yourself while doing it. “Do you have something more…simple? Classic. Understated, maybe?”

The bridal attendant looks to your future mother-in-law like you have grown five dozen heads, and the look your mother-in-law then gives you tells you she is agreeing with the same sentiment.

Her gaze wavers, shifting over to where her son is pacing in the background, before she shifts back to where you stand on a podium.

The girl in a fancy ball gown that feels like a costume more than anything else.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” she asks, and you blow out a heavy breath.

Your guests shift on the couch awkwardly as you hop off the podium and peruse the dozens of racks. You point out the ones that seem more comfortable, more like something you would have picked up on your own even before all of this. Simpler designs, classical silhouettes, subtle beading.

All in all, you end up in a stunning a-line princess, v-neck wedding gown with thin straps and a pretty lace detailing along the low back.

A minimalistic veil is placed at the back of your head and draped around you like a billowing halo, trailing down the pedestal and onto the cream carpeting below.

Behind you, Eddie whistles.

Caroline snaps photos on her phone.

Robin’s shouting, “Holy shit, babe.”

And when you turn around to your father and future mother-in-law, you know you’ve made the right decision in trusting your gut. Both have snatched tissues from a nearby tissue box and dab ceaselessly at their eyes, sniffling audibly.

“You look beautiful, honey,” your father says around a sob.

Bottom lip wobbling, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Harrington waves in her son’s direction, calling over her shoulder, “Steve, look at your bride. Stop being rude.”

When he turns around, there’s a moment. A brief one, you think, where he pauses. Maybe it’s a realization he’s making a huge mistake, the understanding that he’s going to have a wife in a few short weeks, the idea that he’s giving up his future for three years. But there’s a thought, however fleeting, where his eyes widen and you wonder if it’s actually none of those at all.

Without a name to place that emotion to, you simply swallow and mutter softly, “Well, what do you think?”

Eddie leans against the couch, fingers draping over the plush back as he asks out loud, “Yeah, Stevie, what do you think?”

It’s a threat.

Veiled.

There’s no danger, not really, but Steve swallows all the same.

Wavers a bit as he looks to Eddie, then back to you.

He swallows again, and says, “You’re beautiful, honey.”

Disappointment sinks like an anchor of dread, because you wonder if he even means it.

Cake testing a week later fares no better. You’re still getting used to your new routine. Waking up early to an empty home in an empty room that hardly feels like yours. Steve’s usually off to sort out something with the business, while you’re left to your own devices.

Which means phone calls with the wedding planner, pictures sent back and forth between Steve and your future mother-in-law about decisions made, which Steve always just sends and thumbs up emoji back to, and trying to make sense of a wedding that only one half of the couple has been privy to.

Sure, he’d been there when you picked out your dress. But he hadn’t been for the floral arrangements, for figuring out what the bridesmaids will wear as well as the groomsmen. And he’s definitely not there when you’re presented with options for musical entertainment.

So it comes as a shock when he does end up coming for the cake testing. And since he’s free to do so, his mother stays home, suggesting it’ll be an intimate moment for you two. Something about how the cake is important.

You hold back your biting remarks about how it’s just a cake, and instead thank her.

Whine a bit on the phone to really sell the fact that you ‘miss Stevie’—in case she doubts the validity of your engagement. She’s not really shown any indications of such, but you’re growing more mindful of the importance of appearances.

Because it’s in that first week your name pops up in the popular pages of instagram and other social media platforms. There’s even a TikTok of you walking on a busy city street with Steve and Eddie, where people bring to question if you and Steve are already fighting based on your body language.

Though, you do suppose there’s some weight to their remarks. In said video, you’re standing closer to Eddie than Steve, and Steve’s phone is in the hand nearest to you. The one they suggest he should really be holding if he’s as in love as he is. It sounds ridiculous, but it does make sense.

In their eyes, you’re more likely to be dating the famous rockstar based on body language alone than your fiancé.

Wedding planning should be butterflies in your belly, heart eyes for days, wrapped up in one another sort of affection. Steve and you, on the other hand, are two people walking side by side and yet not together.

You understand you need to change that. So as you walk down the street that evening on your way to the bakery, you mutter out, “Hold my hand.”

“What?” He’s typing on his phone, as always. The sound of keyboard clicking meets your ears, before he locks the screen and slides it into his pocket.

“Hold,” you say. There’s a little extra bite this time, “my hand.”

He exhales. “Why?”

“Because you’re in love with me and we’re getting married in less than twenty days,” you remind him.

Less than three weeks. Just under that, really. A thought that immediately has your skin prickling with nervousness and anticipation. Three weeks until you have a new name, a new husband.

“And we’re on our way to our cake testing,” you add, lacing your fingers through his. “People have been talking about us on social media.”

“Saying what?” He leads you down a side street, and then another.

“That we look uncomfortable with one another. That it seems like we must be fighting, because you don’t show me any affection in public—”

“I’ve been—”

“Busy, I know. But they don’t know that, so they’ll fill in the blanks when applicable,” you explain, giving his palm a light squeeze. “So I think we should get used to the public displays of affection, don’t you? I mean, we’re going to have to kiss at the altar, for one. And then there’s the dancing at the reception. Photos. Events.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees.

“I know I’m right,” you joke, allowing him to open the door for you to the building.

“Cake testing can be intimate. This is one of your first meals as a couple, so it needs to be representative of your relationship. The two of you. The love you share,” the cake maker explains, her hands waving to and fro in the air like she’s painting a picture.

You glance over at Steve. He offers a shrug, likely just as uncertain as to what the hell this lady is getting at. “Pardon?”

“You want a cake that is representative of your love. A symbol—if you will.”

“It’s just a c—” Steve begins, but the older woman narrows her gaze darkly and he clears his throat. Uncomfortable. “Honey, why don’t you handle this one?”

“Oh, but darling, you’re the cake connoisseur.” You pat the hand holding yours affectionately atop the table, forcing a megawatt grin on your lips.

“Is that so?” Madeleine asks, cat eye glasses sliding lower down the bridge of her nose. “In that case, did you have any ideas for what you imagined the cake at your wedding to look like?”

Steve’s hand nervously grows tighter around yours. You hiss at the throbbing pain that develops there when your knuckles smash together. The grasp immediately loosens, a thumb coming to slide gently over the sore areas.

You choose to ignore the rush of heat that swoops low in your belly, though.

“Well—I pictured…a cake,” he expresses lamely.

“What my dear fiancé means to say is…we’ve been so caught up with the rush of wedding planning we haven’t given it much thought,” you giggly airily, faux coyness filling your tone. “You know how it is. We’re just so excited to spend the rest of our lives together. So we were hoping maybe you’d be able to suggest some options for us.”

Because you’re also not sure how to tell them your cake needs to be representative of a mix of high levels of shame and “I was drowning in debt and Steve offered assistance, so long as I become his wife.”

Madeleine huffs and gets to work.

Later, the two of you stumble back onto the street with a cake picked out and designed to Madeleine’s liking. A red velvet center with some endless swirling flowers along the exterior in the color scheme of your wedding.

“A cake reflective of our relationship,” he mutters, shaking his head as he reaches for your palm once more. “And what was that? Sacrificing me to her?”

You bat your eyelashes prettily, shrugging. “My idea of a cake is a boxed Pillsbury one. I figured you were the closest to an expert we would get. Also—you nearly broke my hand there.”

“I was stressed,” he argues, though there’s a hint of a smile curling his lips. His thumb does another one of those low sweeps that has you pausing in your footsteps. “But that was a little ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

You bark out a laugh, following him down the still unfamiliar streets leading home. “A little? I don’t know where your mother and the wedding planner found her. It’s a cake. It’s literally a cake we’re going to have one bite of before the caterers feed it to the rest of our guests.” A shudder ripples down your spine at that. “Our guests. Weird to think, huh?”

“Less than three weeks,” he muses, the two of you crossing at a streetlight. “Still feeling okay with the whole thing?”

“Okay? That's still to be determined.” He waves to someone in passing. Likely a neighbor, you assume. “Backing out? Absolutely not.”

One thing you definitely didn’t consider in this whole…fake marriage plot with Steve, is the concept of bachelor and bachelorette parties. You are obviously well aware of the typical fanfare, have been in numerous weddings as it is, but there are no parameters or guidelines in place for a wedding that has been planned in thirty days in an effort to rush to the altar.

So, you leave that part of the wedding planning up to your friends.

And somehow the end result is a joint party.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Holy shit, Steve.” Robin’s head falls back as she enters your bedroom, mouth dropping open, taking it all in. It’s the size of both your rooms combined back at your old place. “At least you got a nice place out of all this.”

You shrug, dropping down onto your bed. Fingers splay across the sheets, soft and cool beneath. Against your closet rests the white jumpsuit you’ve decided on for your party. A sleeveless number that cinches at the waist and a sweetheart neckline that cups your breasts sumptuously.

Pretty.

But there’s the dawning realization that tonight all the attention will be solely on you and Steve.

So what do you do?

“This is a terrible idea,” Steve groans, wincing as his shot goes down.

“Actually, it’s probably one of the best I’ve had,” Eddie exclaims, clapping you both on the back.

The sting of tequila burns in your nose. The flowing sash across your chest that says Mrs. Harrington rumples when your arm reaches over to place the glass back down on the countertop. Robin’s there to adjust it, grinning despite your sour expression.

“Wow, look at you two,” she coos, pulling out her phone to snap a photo. “For your story. They’ll eat it up. Plus, better to get all the cute pictures now, instead of when you’re both drunk later.”

Steve pulls you closer to take a photo, grumbling. “We are not getting drunk.”

“Steeeeve.”

You’re drunk.

“Yeah, honey bunny.”

Aaaaand so is he.

“F—” You hiccup. He laughs, leaning bodily into your shoulder. “—uck. I’m gonna kill Eddie.”

Even though Eddie’s only responsible for your first drink. Not the second, or the third, fourth…you’re not sure where you’re at now.

There’s at least an awareness that it’s enough; enough to have the room spinning when you sit down, and Steve beside you like an anchor in a shaky sea.

So when he moves to stand, your fingers curl around his wrist and drag him back down again. “No. Don’t go. We’re…to death do us part.”

“Till,” he corrects, snorting playfully. “You’re gonna see me everyday for…three years.”

“But there’s so many people here. Soooo many. And most of them are your friends,” you whine, clasping your hand in his as he leads you back out further into the people spread out along the private rooftop. “You have soooo many friends. Did you know that?”

He simply laughs, just as Eddie’s voice breaks over the noise all around you. A loud shout of, “The soon to be newlyweds should do the next round of karaoke!”

“Edward Munson, you little s—” Another hiccup. Shit, you think, we’re giggly drunk tonight. “shit. I’m gonna beat your ass like I did when we were kids.”

“It’s like something out of a fuckin’ romcom,” Steve later whines as you’re both pushed onto the stage by a bunch of cheering friends. “And they picked our song already.”

“Oh no, which one?” You slur a bit on your words, one ankle rolling like a baby deer.

Steve grasps your bicep to steady you. “Marry You by Bruno Mars.”

“Nooo,” you moan, hiding your face in his collar bone. Shit, you think, I’m a flirty drunk tonight too. “Think we can escape our own party?”

One glance out to your awaiting guests tells you that’s not at all a possibility. Steve’s there, overly affectionate now that you’ve got a crowd, with a hand on your lower back, pulling you close.

To anyone else, you’re a couple celebrating their nuptials in the next few days.

To you, you know he’s laying it on thick.

Making sure there is absolutely no question as to the validity of your marriage.

Especially with potential co workers around, with those who can easily talk rumors in the halls, who might wonder why the speedy engagement and rush down the aisle in the first place.

“One song,” you shout over the crowd, over Steve’s shoulder.

And then, in a puff of breath against his ear you whisper, “Make it count, hubby.”

“It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Heyy babyyyy! I think I wanna marry you!” You sing.

If you can consider it that.

To Eddie it’s screeching or a shrill wail, a high pitched thing that makes everyone around you wince.

There’s interference with the mic that has Eddie’s eyes slamming shut against the sharp pang against his eardrums.

“Think we should stop them?” Robin asks out loud, watching Steve awkwardly bob and sway beside you, never really sure of what to do with his body when it comes to music.

“No,” Eddie chuckles darkly, leaning back on his chair. “Those idiots are involving us in a literal crime, so we’re going to have our fun with it.”

“Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you,” Steve continues, and it’s clearly not up to your standard, because you grab his arm and wiggle it frantically.

“I am marrying him!” You giggle over the microphone, extending your ring to the crowd. “Can you believe it? Mrs. Harrington.”

“Oh no,” Robin mutters, gripping Nancy’s hand beside her. “She’s giggly now.”

“She’s fucked up. She’s going to kill us in the morning,” Eddie grumbles.

Robin’s eyes widen as Nancy says, “I really feel like you two should stop them. Because Steve just grabbed her and now they’re, uh, making out on the stage—”

Robin jumps to her feet. “Oh fuck.”

You wake in the morning to a bunch of tiny needles stabbing your skull. Like someone took a jackhammer to your brain and pushed an on switch.

Brain practically groaning in your head, you lift yourself slowly into a sitting position and moan at the throb that rolls down the nape of your neck and down your spine.

Wincing, you kick your legs over the side of the bed and insert your feet into the slippers on the floor down below, sighing at the immediate comfort.

The penthouse is full of chatter. Voices mill from the kitchen, soft despite the clanging cymbals you’re convinced are in your brain. And there, at the kitchen island, stands none other than your two (ex) best friends and your soon to be husband, cups of coffee held against their temples, shame ebbing from their forms.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Robin coos, turning around to gauge your expression.

You don’t miss the shock of brows curling high on her forehead, nor do you miss the tick in Eddie’s cheek as he fights a smile.

“I must look like shit,” you grumble, sliding into the kitchen between the group, uncaring as your shoulder brushes Steve’s. There’s already an iced coffee for you on the countertop. Steve must have ordered, you assume, fighting the flutter in your chest at the thought. “I feel like shit. Very unsexy shit. People keep talking about my bridal beauty, but I feel very much like a bridal beast right now.”

Robin shakes her head, hand on your shoulder. “No, you look fine, you look—”

“Like you’ve had better nights,” Eddie says nonchalantly, earning a cough from Steve to his left.

“I’m sorry, it seems like your invitation to my wedding was rescinded. So weird,” you say brightly, leaning against Robin’s shoulder, pinching your eyes against the bright kitchen lightning. “You’re no longer my best friend. Maybe you’ll fare better with Steve here.”

Why did Steve get a building with white walls as far as the eye can see? You also decide your first purchase will be curtains to block out the natural light coming through the large windows covering the entirety of your living room exterior.

“Tell me you guys didn’t have fun,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “Unless you don’t remember much of it. But it looked like you were having fun.”

The thing is, you remembered every moment.

Every interaction with your guests, every brush of shoulders from your soon to be husband.

Every fleeting glance.

Every look over the top of your glass.

The way your heart danced in your chest as he led you onto that stage.

How his fingers had curled around your own as you sang that ridiculous karaoke song.

How his lips had felt when he dropped a hand to the small of your back and tugged you flush against his form.

The way his heart thundered against yours where your sternums pressed together.

The warmth of his palm.

The heat of his breath as you breathed one another in.

The fullness of his mouth against yours, gentle brushes at first that soon grew passionate.

Heated.

It had been scalding.

A burn that simmered.

A burn you relished, wanted to fan into flame, wanted to foster in the moment.

Just a silly, stupid, alcohol-fueled moment.

It means nothing.

Nothing.

“I don’t really remember much after we left here,” Steve says.

He stares at you. Eyes locked on your face. Imploring.

Eddie and Robin shift your way, too.

Curiosity brims, and your heart aches.

You open your mouth. “I don’t really remember much either.”

Seven days.

You’ll be a wife in seven days.

Don’t get it twisted now, you remind yourself.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington modern au

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scarlettjohanssons-mistress · 1 year

Text

I wouldn't forget a pretty face

Warnings: First Meetings, fluff, fun

Word count: 1.4 K

Pairing: Daphne Kluger x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Daphne wouldn't forget a pretty face. Not even when that pretty face is "nobody"

Requests: OPEN

[Main masterlist] [Ocean's 8 masterlist]

The first time I saw her was even before Debbie called me on the holdup. I had some debts to pay, and dedicating myself only to studying in my university years had left me with zero work experience. So, the only company that had helped me get a job after studying “Fashion Design” was the big Chanel store in Soho, New York.

Daphne was doing some shopping in the area, until a group of paparazzi began to chase her, forcing her to enter a store so that her bodyguards could disperse the press and get her into her truck.

I was arranging the seasonal clothes, trying not to focus my eyes on her figure, but she did look at me, she gave me a smile and I can even listen to a little of her conversation with her team while she walked around the store, trying not to get bored while waiting.

It didn't take long for the truck to pull up in front of the store, and as quickly as that happened, Daphne was gone.

Some time later, Debbie came to me, the mythical (and forgotten) Rose Weil needed a reliable right hand to carry out this theft; and both Lou and Debbie knew how badly she needed that money.

Although I never got to meet Daphne herself in the many times Rose had had to meet with the actress, the next time I saw her, it was at the Met. My good friend Lou needed a confidence booster, and right now, she was grateful for the multiple episodes of Masterchef she'd seen.

By the time I had been given my new diamond bracelet to put in the little bag I carried with me, right at that moment, I was able to relax. I had been under so much stress that I had barely been able to enjoy the big party Tammy had thrown us into.

And there, again, was Daphne. Her eyes collided with mine again, but now, instead of bringing out my kinder side and trying to give her a smile, I quickly looked away from her eyes. Debbie said she wanted to lay low. It sounds silly, Daphne Kluger, a Hollywood star wouldn't remember my face, not when she sees millions of people every day, why would she remember the face of a simple employee who doesn't earn even 3% of what she earned in a single movie?

Time passed again. Now, right at this moment Lou and Debbie were making sure that each part of the jewels were being sold so that they could deposit the corresponding part in each of the eight bank accounts; while that was going on, i had to keep working at the store, i still had to look like a job… and to be honest, i worked so hard at this damn store, all i ask in return is a decent damn reward.

My boss had asked me to put the makeup and perfume products behind the counter, so I did, putting all my attention on the task, which caused me not to notice that someone had arrived at the store; more specifically, that someone had stood in front of me.

"I knew I had seen you"

My head that was inside the showcase could only see a flat stomach covered in a fine brown cloth; Quickly my eyes looked up only to meet Daphne's face.

I tried to get up quickly until my head hit the glass. Forgetting that my head was still inside the glass case.

She just let out a small smile that she hid behind her hand, but despite that, I could notice flashes of concern.

"What?"

Ask, now with your head out of the glass space.

"It's you, isn't it?, the one who wore that sexy dress at the MET"

"I… I'm sorry…?"

"Of course you were there! I wouldn't forget a face as pretty as yours." I could feel the heat and redness rising up my neck and settling on my cheeks, causing Daphne's brown eyes to take on a different glow. You know, the party where I supposedly dropped the famous necklace…”

“ 'Supposedly'? What do you mean 'supposedly'?”

“It turns out that… the necklace found was fake; the actual necklace hasn't turned up, so a private investigator is helping to find it.” Damn. Debbie promised that it was almost impossible to use an investigator for this. Damn "The investigator has as a major suspect a certain Debbie Ocean… and he told me that even though she has a perfect alibi, he still maintains her as the main suspect" I felt the muscles in my neck and shoulders tense, it even felt like a metal ball was falling. It will start to form in my esophagus and try to go down. "I guess you don't have anything to do with that Debbie girl, do you, sweetie?" just as I was about to open my mouth to answer her question, she spoke again "wait, isn't that the blonde you shared a few drinks with at the party?"

She raised her eyebrows, putting my body between a rock and a hard place; because, not only was she one of the most beautiful women in the world, I now realized, she was one of the most intelligent women in the world. She already knew it, and I couldn't hide it

"Good morning Miss Kluger, can we help you with something?"

My boss had come to our place, screaming with her eyes to get back to work

"Yes, I would like to buy the blouse that your employee models" Both pairs of eyes fell on my blouse "And if it comes with the model, it would be a thousand times better"

She winked again, causing the blush to intensify on my cheeks.

———————————————————————————

The sound that the doors made when opening made us all stop doing our activities, only to pay attention to the beautiful actress who had just entered Lou's place.

"You guys are FUCKED"

She spoke while walking towards us, sitting in the chair that was in front of me.

"Sorry?" Tammy asked. "How did you get here?"

"We invite her" Lou spoke

they were all silent

“Chilly,” Daphne remarked at the glances given by the rest of the group, “what about, 'Hi Daph, welcome to the team. Let's not all high five at once.'”

“Discovered Y/N” was Debbie's turn

"What?!" they all shouted

“Y/N…how did you let her find you out?”

"I…"

"She didn't do anything," Daphne defended me. “I'm just not the typical dumb Hollywood actress”

“Miss Kluger, here, figured out the move from the start; only that its common thread was Y/N”

"Of course, not to mention that discreet is not a word I would use to describe them."

They all remained silent, looking at each other trying to understand the situation, while bitch Constance the time out to see the cards of the others. Damn cheating bitch.

"Not to mention that the private investigator is about to check each one of you asses"

"Investigator?" asked Rose scared

"That was not in the plan" Amita spoke

“That's why Miss Kluger is here. She herself offered to help us."

"Why would you help a group of criminals?" question Tammy

“Are you an only child?” I asked causing giggles

"Well, I don't have many friends, and book clubs are stupidly boring."

"So… you decided to help criminals because you don't have any friends?"

"Yep, she is definitely an only child" spoke Eight Ball

"Okay, ladies, with this done, I think we can continue" Lou spoke.

Of course, I knew Lou very well, and I knew that she considered herself the queen of the UNO, so, I wanted to embarrass ourselves.

Lou, Eight Ball, Constance and I played UNO, while Debbie and Tammy talked in the kitchen, serving up a few slices of pizza, just as Amita and Rose talked about some designers, leaving Daphne alone.

Knowing that having Lou, a master of the game and a cheating bitch like Constance; I put the game down and got up, walking to the front to return to sit next to Daphne.

"Hello" I greeted as I raised my hand, squeezing hers in a warm squeeze "I'm Y/N"

"Wow, I'm glad to name a pretty face like yours."

How was it so easy for her to make me blush?

"Well, I'm glad to put a cute personality on a not-so-simple, pretty face."

It was her turn to blush

———————————————————————————

Lou dropped her game a bit and stood up next to Debbie and Tammy, putting an arm around Debbie's shoulders.

"Okay, how much do you bet those two are going to end up dating?" with her chin she pointed to the figure of Y/N and Daphne, who were getting closer and closer

“Dating?, I bet my life Y/N is already planning their wedding,” Tammy teased.

"She even knows where her honeymoon is going to be," Debbie continued, giving Lou a kiss on the cheek.

Note:

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

#oceans 8 #oceans eight #daphne kluger #daphne kluger x reader #anne hathaway #anne hathaway x reader #lgbtq

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palreality · 1 year

Photo

#VHS #vcr #vhs aesthetic #vhs art #vhs horror #pal #analog horror #glitch #glitch art #poor quality #mush #stray #interference #chanel zero #white noise

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tequiilasunriise · 10 months

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Being in fandoms where the characters are clearly based on other pieces of media/famous figures is so much fun because then some of my ships look like this:

Parentified Goldilocks who is also The Beast x Avoidance attachment Beauty who is ALSO also The Beast, one of my fav moments with them is when they off the Minotaur together who is ALSO also also The Beast

Little Red Riding Hood if she was also the Wolf and has galloons of repressed trauma x Snow White but she’s heavily knight coded and the poster child of daddy issues

Edgar Allen Poe’s Lenore x Annabel Lee but they’re in gay ghost love

The poem ‘The Last Rose of Summer’ x Odin’s raven Huginn but they’re exes still in love in a milf yuri divorce that ends super mega tragically and domino effects mommy issues out the ass

Historical figures Cleopatra x Frida Kahlo with the most chef’s kiss height difference you’ve ever seen

A polycule with Joan of Arc x Mulan x Thor x Achilles but they’re all genderbent/trans

The Velveteen Rabbit x fashion icon Coco Chanel if she was a lesbian with a gun

Frankenstein’s monster x a different sapphic Cleopatra bc baby gays <3333

Okay okay that black cat from Poe’s, well, The Black Cat x Poe’s Eulalie is cute yes

But I actually really REALLY love Poe’s Eulalie x Poe’s Berenice bc they’re “me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic” personified

The Snow Queen with mega daddy issues x Robin Hood if he was a socialist lesbian I SAIDDDD ITTTT

Imma say it historical figures JFK x Confucius were adorable bros

Aesop’s Fisherman x Odin’s other bird Munin you will always be famous my tragic old man yaoi <////3

Y’all will really have to hear me out here when I say Cinderella if she fucken snapped x ice cream Mad Hatter because couples who are terrible to each other but in a “only I’m allowed to be a horrid to them” way can be so funny

And I could go o n fer ages but the point is imagine explaining these ships to someone like 30 years ago with ZERO context their heads would explode and it’d be so funny

#most of these are rwby ships and imma be so real i couldve made an even longer list with just rwby ships alone #‘it aint much but its honest work’ -me being a multishipper #OKAY TIME TO TAG ALL THESE SHIPS. WELL THEN. man. really dug my own grave here #bumbleby #whiterose #white raven #rosebird #i like how theres a little pattern between these shipnames okay #super mega cursed idea is weiss x raven also being called white raven THROWINGGG UPPPP but also yeah that would be funny #one white raven i adore with my whole heart and then another white raven i would torch #kahlopatra #jnpr berries #i will NOT be listing each individual ship involved in that polycule holy shit #‘jaune we love you just as much as we loved pyrrha’ while in front of Pyrrha’s memorial??? like okay yeah sure gods GODS these kids #crosshares #clankie #shit hold on lemme look up these shipnames fer nevermore i only know white raven off the top of my head #okay uhhh we’ll go with spells and space bc incorrect nevermore said so and thats good enougg fer me #spells and space #boston magic #schneewood forest #<— one of my FAVES yall my reconnecting exes au fer Robyn n Winter is so <33333 #jkfucius #fairgame #spicecream #i wont tag each person bc tag limit but oh my god if anyone read these tags mwuah mwuah #rwby #nevermore webtoon #clone high #monster high

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pawnshopbleus · 9 months

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Put Me in a Movie - Chapter Fourteen

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary - You’re a famous actress and he’s one of the greatest directors of all time. What happens when you get cast in his new movie?

Chapter Thirteen

“Miguel O’Hara and the leading lady in his new film have been spotted entering a new restaurant earlier this week.” The news reporter said your name with a hint of jealousy. Everyone wanted Miguel and was disappointed that he was taken away from them so soon. You scoffed like any of them actually had a chance.

Pictures of you and Miguel flashed onto the screen of your fifty-inch flat-screen television. You were sitting crisscross applesauce on your couch while Fern sat next to you. Today was supposed to be a lazy day until you received a call from Stella.

“You’re needed at the TCL Chinese Theater in the next two hours. Wear that Chanel dress that I bought you for your birthday,” Stella said without elaborating further.

“The hell? Why am I needed at the TCL Chinese Theater?”

“Well, you may or may not have been invited to an A24 premier that I forgot to tell you about. You’re allowed to bring a guest so if you want, you can bring that fine ass boyfriend of yours.” “Stella!” Your head hit the back of your couch. “If you keep doing this then I don’t know if I can trust you. Did you not grasp onto anything during our conversation?” Stella’s sigh was heard on your end of the phone, “I know and I’m sorry. I’ve just been having a hard time with Jack and all.” Jack is Stella’s new deadbeat boyfriend. He has no job and zero ambition. You don’t approve of him and wish that Stella would break up with him.

“Stella, you need to break up with him. He’s not good for you.

“This isn’t about me!” Stella huffed and then composed herself. “Look, honey, you need to call Miguel and tell him to get ready, pick you up, and head over. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but maybe this could be good for you and Miguel. Practice before the premiere of your own movie. I need to go.” Stella hung up and you sat there for a second before you dialed Miguel’s phone number.

Miguel picked up the phone after two rings, “Hello?” “Miguel, I’m sorry for the short notice, but Stella just told me that I need to go to an A24 movie premiere. She said I could bring a plus one and I was wondering if you want to go.” It was silent for a moment before he spoke, “To be honest, I don’t think I can go. Jessica isn’t available to take care of Gabby and her usual babysitter is on vacation.”

Your heart sank. Of course, he couldn’t come. He was a father first before your boyfriend. He had a daughter to love and take care of. You would always come second and you needed to get used to that.

You were about to respond before a light bulb appeared in your head. “Well, I can tell Stella that something came up. Then, if you’re up for it, you and Gabby can come over for a pool day. It’s the perfect weather.”

“Mi amor, that sounds perfect, but I can’t let you skip a premiere for us.” “I don’t want to go to premier in the first place. Please, Fern misses Gabby and I miss you.” Fern tilted her head at the mention of Gabriella’s name. If you and Miguel ever broke up, it would hurt Fern and Gabby more than it would hurt you.

“Fine. When do you want us to come over,” Miguel chuckled at the sound of you celebrating.

You told Miguel to come over in about an hour or two. Then, you texted Stella that something came up and that you couldn’t attend the premier. She was disappointed but ultimately understood how last minute this was.

You uncovered your pool and made sure that there were no bugs or stray leaves inside of it. Your pool overlooked the beautiful city that you lived in. Every day you thanked the Universe and your own hard work for letting you live this life that you’ve dreamed of since you were little. Words cannot describe how blessed you felt every time you woke up to this incredible view.

You sent a text to Peter asking him if he, MJ, and May would like to join the party. He accepted the invite and expressed his utmost excitement. You missed the banter between you and Peter. He was quirky and funny in the best way possible and you were glad he was your friend.

You were wearing a red one-piece bathing suit that cinched at the waist. You looked like Pamela Anderson in Baywatch. Fern was wearing a pink doggy life jacket and you nearly cried at the fact that just a few months ago she was living on the streets of LA. Luckily, Fern was roaming around in the right place at the right time.

A knock at your door took you out of your head. Miguel and Gabriella were the first ones to arrive at your home. Fern happily jumped around when she saw Miguel's daughter in a matching pink swimsuit.

Miguel greeted you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It looked friendly enough to the untrained eye, but if they looked a bit closer, they would see his hand rest on the globe of your ass for a quick second before returning to a modest place on your body.

Gabriella doesn’t know that you and her father are dating. He doesn’t want her to get too attached just in case it doesn’t work out, but as he watched his daughter smile while playing with Fern, he knew there was no going back.

“What are we eating for lunch? I’m hungry and my dad wouldn’t take me to McDonalds,” Gabriella looked at Miguel and then at you.

You let out a little laugh at her comment. Then, you got another idea. “You know, McDonalds does sound good. I’ll order some when Peter and his family get here.”

“Peter’s coming?” Miguel asked. He wasn’t mad, just surprised.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. I invited him over because I miss him and his wife and his sweet little baby.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. There was a knock at your front door and when you opened it, Peter and his small family were revealed all in their swim attire.

Everyone made their way over to the pool. MJ and May were sitting on the stairs of the pool while Peter and Gabriella had a competition to see who did the better underwater handstands. Gabriella won every time and Peter took the losses like a champ. You and Miguel were sitting on the edge of the pool while your feet were submerged in the water. Miguel watched as his daughter interacted with the leading man of his latest film.

“I think we should tell her.”

You gave Miguel a questioning look, “Tell who what?” “Gabriella. We should tell her that we’re together,” Miguel threaded his hands through his perfectly styled hair. “I didn’t want her to get too attached just in case the worst happened, but she really liked you and your dog and to be honest, I think she already knows.”

“When do you want to tell her?” This was a very serious moment in your relationship with Miguel. He was so secure in this that he was about to tell his daughter about your relationship.

Miguel called Gabriella over with a simple motion of his hand. She doggy paddled her way over to where you and her father were sitting. Miguel was nervous. You could tell by the way he shifted uncomfortably in his spot.

“Gabriella, you know I love you and I’ll never keep a secret from you.” Gabriella nodded her head as she floated in the water. Miguel continued, “Well, I have been keeping a secret from you. We’re dating.” Miguel took your hand in his and braced himself for whatever his daughter would say next.

“I know,” Gabriella shrugged.

“You know? How long have you known? Who told you?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“If I tell you, will I get in trouble?” Gabriella was weary. She knew that there was a fifty percent chance that she would be grounded if her father knew the truth. Miguel shook his head, eager to know how his daughter knew such a big secret. “Well, when she came over for dinner I was kind of listening to the two of you from the stairs. Also, when I use your phone to play Minecraft I’m not actually playing Minecraft.”

Miguel huffed and shook his head. Of course, his daughter was sneaky like his ex-wife. Like mother like daughter. The rest of the day was spent lounging and playing in the pool.

Well, the cat’s out of the bag. With Gabriella in the know, you felt better about your relationship. You felt secure and ready for whatever the future held.

Chapter Fifteen - Comming Soon

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #fan fiction #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spiderman

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songmingisthighs · 1 year

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Cache

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lviii - association gathering

wooyoung × reader, ??? × reader

in a school filled with the affluent, it would only make sense for birds of a feather to flock. but what if your new status doesn't immediately buy you a way into said flock? what if instead, it bought you sure rejection? to the rich and powerful, having different masks is a must. despite some people knowing your true self and your secrets

The hotel was very luxurious. You stared at the hotel ballroom entrance where the Business Association Gathering was being held and you could feel your palms getting sweaty. Though the door was merely ten feet away, it felt as if you needed to journey out there to enter the room.

"(y/n),"

You turned your head to the side to see Kai popping on your side, a worried look on his face. He was wearing a very fancy maroon Valentino jacket and slacks combo with a black mesh top inside, hair slicked back completed with what you can only assume is genuine crocodile leather Armani shoes. Poor croc.

Trying to shake your nerves, you shook your head and offered him a tight-lipped smile, "I'm okay Kai, don't worry," you assured. Beomgyu popped up from behind him with an arm around the younger's shoulder, "This is a foolproof plan, alright? Worst thing that could happen is us getting kicked out quietly," he grinned. Despite wearing a Brunello Cucinelli suit with an unbuttoned shirt inside, he still looked very boyish. One can only assume it's the grin he sported.

Soobin, Yeonjun, and Taehyun soon emerged, having just dropped their cars with the valet. Just from the way they were standing idly, they stood out amongst the already rich crowd. Donning Yves Saint Laurent, Tom Ford, and Stefano Ricci, their looks are comparable to runway models. Not to mention their towering heights which made you feel even smaller than you already were next to them. Both physically and mentally. It didn't help that the whole time Yeonjun dressed you, he kept spewing old money brand. In all honesty, you can only remember a few and that's one of the reasons Yeonjun put you in Chanel instead.

"We should just get this over with," you grumbled. To the unassuming, you might seem like you're just tired of attending fancy business gatherings but you knew damn well that the nerves were getting to you. You let your pettiness get over your head, feeling like you need to prove something to the people around you (namely your brother Mingyu and maybe Wooyoung) or something.

Yeonjun stepped in front of you, blocking you from entering. "Look, we can call this off if you really don't wanna go, it's completely fine. We could just go to an arcade or something," he stated. You raised an eyebrow at him and motioned to all of you, "Dressed like this?" you scoffed, thinking that he was kidding. But he shrugged at you, "Wouldn't be the first time and definitely not the last," he smirked.

Soobin walked to your side to gently rest an arm on your shoulder, catching your attention, "Point is, whatever you decide to do, we're gonna be here with you, okay? We got your back always," he smiled reassuringly. "Unless when we're peeing," Beomgyu blurted out, causing the others to groan at the broken sincerity of the moment. Though it made you laugh as he kept it lighthearted, so you were glad he said it.

Feeling determined, you nodded firmly, "Okay, yeah you guys are right, I just- I need to do this and I'm gonna fucking do it."

You tucked your hands on the arms of Soobin and Kai who offered them to you before walking with your gaze zeroing in on the door.

The pressure of wanting this plan to succeed was there. But oddly enough, you felt nothing but excitement. Usually, before doing anything big (or anything at all), you'd feel this pit in your stomach, a sinking feeling that turns you into nothing but a ball of anxiety. Sure, you've trained yourself enough to power through, mind over body type of thing. But this time, right then and there, you felt confident. Sure, it was nerve-wrecking and the idea of you getting kicked out or even get your ass handed back to you by your parents with an audience watching was more than scary. When you involuntarily squeezed Kai and Soobin's arms out of nervousness, they responded by putting their hands over you and tapped it twice as a sign of comfort. That was when you realized that you didn't turn into a ball of anxiety because this time, you were damn sure that you have people to support you.

So when Beomgyu and Taehyun opened the door to the ballroom that caused people to look at the six of you, you were confident enough to simply smile at them.

You had expected your arrival to be like the movies. People staring in awe, parting as you and your friends make a straight line to your parents. But it didn't happen like that. Sure, people were staring and whispering, but it wasn't anything dramatic.

As you made your way to your parents, you failed to notice a pair of eyes that followed along your form.

Wooyoung couldn't help but stare at how regal you looked. In all the years he knew you, he had never seen you look so out of reach. He admired how your outfit seemed to compliment your curves and it seemed like it was giving you confidence. Whether the outfit boosted your confidence or your attitude elevated your outfit, he couldn't really tell. But one thing's for sure, it made his heart ache.

His eyes soon travelled to your five companions. Of course, someone as attention-stealing as you would be escorted by people who look like they just stepped off Paris Fashion Week. The sight made his grip on the glass he was holding deadly. His mouth felt dry and as much as he wanted to run over and push them all off of you, he couldn't.

"Is that (y/n)?" Seonghwa asked after he blinked rapidly to make sure that his eyes weren't messing with him. Or that his eyes were messed up. Yunho turned from watching the other side of the room after hearing what Seonghwa said. "(y/n)?? (y/n)'s here??" he frantically looked around until his eyes saw you. You looked very different in the best way he could ever mean to say. But his soft gaze turned to glare when he saw Soobin next to you, grinning happily as Huening Kai said something to you that made you look down at your feet. You could've been holding in laughter but Yunho's bitter mind convinced himself that you were ashamed to be seen with those boys. Before he could realize what he was doing, Yunho had fished his phone out to take a picture of you while Seonghwa and Wooyoung were busy staring at you.

"What the fuck is she doing with those five?" Seonghwa scoffed, "Has her standards really dropped that low?" Although it was a rhetorical question, Wooyoung blurted out an answer before he could stop himself. "Her standards were always THAT low, why did you think no one liked her and we had to take pity on her?" Wooyoung said bitterly. Seonghwa completely skipped over the fact that Wooyoung was being bitter and laughed at what his friend said.

Meanwhile, after managing to hold your laughter in after Kai pointed out that one specific man looked like an Asian version of Mr. Dursley, you stopped in front of your parents who despite the surprise, managed to keep their composure.

"Mom, Dad," you greeted with the sweetest smile you could muster, "I hope I'm not too late." Your dad smiled at you and shook his head, "Not at all, dear. I had hoped that you would arrive before my speech," he said, completely following your act.

The person your dad was talking with interrupted, "Mr. Kim, is this your daughter?" he asked, looking between you and your parents. "Yes, yes, she is my youngest," your dad introduced. You reached your right hand from around Kai's arm and held it out for the man, "Nice to meet you Mr. Uhm. My name is (y/n) and these are my friends, I'd have to say I'm a big fan," you confidently said. The man's eyes widened and he hesitantly shook your hand, "I'm sorry dear, have we been introduced before?" he asked, unsure. You shook your head as you let your hands free and cross them in front of your body, "No, sir, I can assure you we haven't. This is actually my first time attending such events as previously, I was too busy with school work. But I am fully aware of your work revolutionizing industries with Solar Panel Plant and I must say, people don't talk about its significant just enough." Hearing you, the man's expression lifted as he became as your parents stared at you in utter shock. Taehyun and Beomgyu looked at each other in complete shock as well as they weren't completely aware of your prowess.

"My, my, you know your stuff, young lady," the man chuckled. "Oh no, sir, please, you're too kind. I'm an International Business student at Prestige Academy along with my friend Kai here and we are simply used to talking about current events," "I see... Are you all International Business majors?" he asked, very intrigued with the six of you. "No, only Kai and I. Soobin here is a Science major, Yeonjun is in Fashion Business, Beomgyu is in music, and Taehyun here is in opera," you explained, pointing to each of your friends who bowed slightly at the mention of their names. "Oh, dear, you must come speak with some of my colleagues here, we can use the opinions of young minds like you. Mind you, these gatherings, while they're very extravagant and exclusive, should've allowed us to be more interactive with the next generation. Mr. Kim, you don't mind me borrowing your daughter and her friends, would you?" he asked your dad. Of course, your dad shook his head and smiled at the man, letting you and your friends go with him.

As the man excitedly talked about his interest in expanding to biochemicals and Soobin told him about his mom's work, you all followed along to wherever it was he was taking you six. Yeonjun slipped to your side to take your hand in his. He lightly squeezed it with a proud smirk on his face, "I knew you could do it," he said smugly. You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion, "What are you talking about? We still have a long night," and he shook his head at that, "I'm not talking about attending this event entirely. I was talking about you taking charge and being confident. I knew you had it in you, you just need the right push," he said. You nudged him slightly in a teasing manner, "Are you trying to take credit for my success?" You asked jokingly. Yeonjun rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Hey, Kai started this wanting to become your friend and supporting you thing, you have him to thank. I just like pushing people and see if they fall," he snarked. You elbowed him lightly in the rib but it didn't hurt him whatsoever judging from the way his chest rumbled with laughter.

The night went smoothly. You and your friends managed to mingle with a lot of people who seemed to catch wind of the youngsters who are fun to have business talks with. Your initial worry of failing your plan was immediately forgotten once you got comfortable. Sure, you were in your element, talking about interesting things with interesting people. But the presence of familiar people next to you, which are your friends, allowed you to unlock your confident side.

You were so caught up in socializing that you became completely unaware of the gaze that Wooyoung had been giving you the whole night. For the first time ever, Wooyoung felt inferior in your presence. What made things worse are you were nowhere near him and you still managed to affect him so much. Scratch that, the worst thing is seeing you looking so happy in a place you claimed you never want to find yourself in with the people he hates most that seemed to be able to bring out the best side of you.

It hurt him to admit.

But he could've been that person.

He should've been that person.

In reality however, he was never that person despite the many opportunities. He had always kept your best side to himself.

His selfishness took its victim.

And sadly, it was himself.

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