You're The Light Of My Life (A Sting Eucliffe x Reader FanFic)

Sting's House

~Reader's P.O.V.~

The first thing you see after having gone to sleep was a nightstand. Now fully awake after realizing where you probably were, you shoot up into a sitting position, although you regret doing so when your leg starts to throb.

"Hey," a warm and gentle voice greeted at you. You already knew who it was, but you decided to turn around anyways.

"Hey," you mutter back. You look around for something, and start to panic when you can't find it. "Where's-"

"Here," Sting tossed your phone to you. You fumble with it until it was firmly in your grasp. You examine the phone, making sure that Sting didn't do anything to it. That was when you looked down at yourself and realized that you weren't in your school uniform anymore. You were now wearing a plain white shirt, and you now had white pants over your skirt. At first you screamed, never liking the sight of white.  But, in a couple seconds you calmed down, only to feel blood rush up your cheeks. "What's wrong?" Sting immediately asked you.

In response, you slapped him hard on the cheek.

"ITAI!" he yelped, holding his now red right cheek. "What was that for?!"

"W-w-where are my clothes??" you tried hard not to stutter, but failed terribly. Sting used his free hand to point to to your school uniform hanging on the wall.

"It was dirty," he explained nonchalantly. You on the other hand were furious that he did not understand this situation. 'How much of an idiot is he?!' You raise your hand to slap him again.

"AH!" Sting yelps, putting his hands over his face in defense. You wanted to slap him so badly, but there was something at the back of your mind that told you not to. As a result, you had your hand in a slapping position, but it was fervently shaking. Luckily Sting didn't notice because he was still waiting for the hit.

After a couple seconds, you decide to just give in to that voice in the back of your mind and lowered your hand. When your blow didn't come, Sting hesitantly opened his eyes and noticed that you were looking down, your (h/c) hair covering your eyes. You were pondering your scattered thoughts about Sting. He was flirtatious, carefree, and too much light surrounded him whenever you saw him. However, some things about him were starting to change to you. He saved you twice now, and he was stubborn as he would not let you talk him out of you going to his house.

"Hey (y/n), are you okay?" Sting's voice made you jump. For some reason, you felt butterflies in your stomach and blood rush to your cheeks. Add that to the growing list of weird things that were happening to you. 'What is Sting Eucliffe doing to me?' you think.

"I-I'm fine," you mutter, looking away from him. You didn't want him to see your red face. You slightly glances down to your clothes and panic.

The slip of paper with the warning on it was slightly peaking out. If Sting saw that, well...you didn't really want to explain it to him. Sting tilts his head in confusion to you.

"What are you looking at?" he asks, looking behind him. You could feel yourself start to panic more and try to stop him.

"I-I was just looking at a-a um...a crack on the wall!" you scrambled to say. Sting looks at you weirdly.

"Why...?" he sweatdrops.

"B-because...I'm a perfectionist!" you say. It wasn't far from the truth; you could find a crack on the wall or a chip in the paint, but it wasn't that bothering to you.

"O...kay?" Sting says slowly, probably weirded out. Sting then glances at your clothes. "Hey, what's the slip of paper in your pocket?" He gets up to go get it, but you try to stop him.

"W-wait! That's my private property!" you say.

"Yeah, like that's gonna work," Sting smirks and continues walking towards the paper. You try to run over to him, but your leg was still swollen and hurt. You curse at yourself for not defending yourself against those girls. You could do nothing but watch Sting take the piece of paper and open it up. At first you can see his blue eyes widen with shock, but then they hardened and looked at you with a steely glare, one that looked to have mixed emotions. It was like sadness, disappoint, anger, rage, and worry were all combined into one glare.

One very scary glare.

Seeing that it really didn't suit his childish and carefree personality, you knew you were in big high-school-drama-like trouble.