Anastasia

F O U R

🇦​🇳​🇦​🇸​🇹​🇦​🇸​🇮​🇦​⚘

        As I flutter my eyes open, awakening, two of the many soft, squishy pillows begins to fall off of the grey sheeted bed. Have I gone mad? How reckless could I have really become in two weeks to allow myself to get drunk and end up in some stranger's home?!

        Exactly how I got here is beyond me, but I do remember several small fragments from last night, an absolutely colossal headache being a constant reminder of my behavior. Dancing, drinking, laughing--I was having a blast. I was, finally, for once in my sad, miserable life, having some fun.

        And for what? Imagine just what could've happened if I had ended up in the wrong hands. If I had wandered over last night to someone other than him.

   "Hey, you're up." Niklaus Hensley. "I made chocolate pancakes," He grins at me from the doorway. All at the same time, his expression changes to one mimicking that of slight confusion, "because I know you like them?"

        Luckily for him, I love pancakes of all kinds. Strawberry, jelly, vanilla, wafer, blueberry? You name it because, surely, I've got in at home in the freezer, that is, if Elsii hasn't already gotten her grimy hands on them. "Sure," I respond, not really knowing what to say since he had just made me breakfast.

        Climbing out of his bed, embarrassingly, I notice that I'm only wearing my teal, laced underwear set beneath a lime green colored t-shirt. This is so awkward. He changed me last night?

   "Well, are you coming or not, cupcake?" He's got on a light blue, old-fashioned Nirvana sweatshirt. The wet, shaggy hairstyle, indicating that he had just showered, only completes this look.

   "Hey, hold on, I am not a cupcake!" I exclaim, furrowing my brows, just now realizing the pet-name he had given me. I wholeheartedly detest cutesy-ass nicknames like that. All they do is indicate how "fragile" I am, which is a load of crap. "Why don't you bring your tall ass over here and I'll show you just how small I am, sinä vitun kusipää," I mutter bitterly.

   I begin feeling nervous as he, out of nowhere, advances towards me slowly. Like a lion stalking it's prey in the middle of the savannah, he nears. "Oh, Anastasia," grinning condescendingly, he continues,"ezt később kell büntetni."
        Okay, what the actual fuck? How did he both hear and understand what I had said at the same time!? "You're not the only one able to speak a Uralic language, cupcake."--His response was on queue, as if he had read my mind.

   "W-What was that?" I mumble, looking down at my somehow barren; freshly painted white toes. I had always been told that I had the most beautiful feet, unusually. Niklaus only snickers.

   "Hungarian." He says this as if it was an everyday occurrence that you meet an American, if even, who speaks such a language. Thinking about it now, he doesn't look like he would have been born here. I suppose that his looks are a bit like mine, freakishly enough, being bleached and fair, yet tanned.
        Admittedly, he was noticeably handsome, having a more aesthetic grunge style going for him currently. "Our languages are very similar, and you'd do well to remember that one." It would've been fine if he had just said it like a normal person, but it was the narcissistic hair-flip that really set me over the edge.

        Why this supercilious jackass, he'd better watch out for me when I get my ass out of here! Watching in spite as he turns around, walking out of the room and into what I presume would be the kitchen in this place, I simply cannot begin to fathom a ridiculous coincidence such as this situation had turned out to be.

        As I follow behind him shortly after and he motions for me to take a seat on the barstool, serving the food. I do say thank you, but eye him up suspiciously all the while. He nods in response and smiles snobbishly, taking the seat opposite from me.

   "What're you just gonna sit here and watch me eat?" I question, fork in hand.

   "Obviously, what else does it look like I'll be doing." Yep, definitely an szamár. I only roll my eyes and proceed, taking conscious bites.

   "Don't you have something better to be doing!?" I exclaim, suddenly fed up with his gaze.

   His eyes go dark, "You tricked me last night." I don't like this.

   "How so?" I dare.

   "I thought you were about to kiss me." He shrugs off as if this was nothing.

   "Why would I want to kiss you?" I say, genuinely bemused. Hearing myself, it comes off a little rudely. I watch, growing anxious as his eyes narrow. Why does he frighten me so much? Honestly, I feel like a kindergartener in the presence of an eighth-grader. Big jump if I do say so myself.

   "Uhm, let's see here." He pretends to count on his fingers, looking up in fake thought. "I'm Niklaus Hensley," There's one finger, "I'm Niklaus Hensley," Two, "OH, and uh, I'm Niklaus Hensely!" As he counts off the third, grinning, I lift an eyebrow to show my boldness. I am not like other girls then, since I wouldn't date this playboy in a million years.

   "You're just in denial, cupcake."

   "Shove one up your ass then since you like cupcakes so much, princess Hensley," I respond snarkily, taking another bite of pancake. As I reach for the honey, he moves it away. "Hey!"

   "You want it?" He looks towards the honey in his hand as he gets up and out of the chair, raising the condiment high into the air. "Come and get it."

        Oh, he's so dead, using my height against me? I guess I'll have to use his man parts against him, it's only fair. As I think this, I'm sure a playful expression washes over my face. "Okay." I smile.

   "What, you've got nothing to say now, huh?"

        And so, I look him right in the eye as he lifts his chin seemingly victorious, kneeing him in the crotch. Watching as he doubles over in pain, dropping the honey, I let out a laugh at the entire scene's undoing. It looks as if he cannot form a proper sentence. But I didn't hit him that hard, did I?

        Feeling guilty, I slowly approach him. "You're alright though, princess?" I question. He flips me off, clearly still in pain.

   "You are so dead when this is over." He grumbles out to me. I'm quaking--Not. In reality, I only stand there with my arms folded across my chest. SHIT, I'm still in my underwear, aren't I? Despite the singular piece of fabric that covers my chest, my bottoms are nonexistent. "What's wrong, cupcake?" He says, "Finally realized what you've got on?" This fucking prick!

   "Sinä huijata!" He looks offended, good.

   "I am not a dickhead!" Yeah right, and I'm not a dumb blonde. I roll my eyes sarcastically as I head back into his room, gathering my belongings.

       As I return, I nod my head out of thanks for his semi-kindness, he did take me in after all.

   "See you around, princess," I say, exiting with my head held high. No one will belittle me and get away with it.

₰

sinä vitun kusipää-

You fucking asshole

ezt később kell büntetni-

You surely will be punished for saying that later

szamár-

asshole

---

αuthσr's nσtє:

Hey everyone, it's O.R here, thank you so much for reading this chapter! Thank you all for the kind words and encouragement. Please vote for my story so I can continue! Please follow my acc for updates and schedules!--I always follow back btw. Thanks for the comments and votes, please keep it up to help my story grow!