JerCes son× LanMia daughter fanfiction
Walks in nervously.So , this is kind off a juvenile attempt at writing a JerCes son × LanMia daughter fanfiction. Initially I thought to directly put in on AO3 but I just thought to put the first 2 chapters here and see if you guys like it or not.
Chapter-1
"That fucker can go fuck himself," I tell Leigh, letting out a sharp exhale.
My cousin looks at me, her warm brown eyes sparkling with amusement as she shakes her head, which only annoys me further.
"What? I’m serious, Leigh," I say, offended, narrowing my eyes.
"And overdramatic," Christian adds. He flips another page of his textbook—which he clearly isn’t reading—his gaze sweeping over me with the same boredom that mirrors his dad, Uncle Creighton.
"I’m not being overdramatic."
And I wasn’t. Nope. Not at all.
"I kind of agree with Chris here," Leigh says with a sheepish smile, picking up a bowl of chocolate macarons—her favorite snack.
My eyebrows knit together as I glare at my cousin. "Breaking the sis code now?"
"Come on, Rei. He’s not as bad as you make him out to be," she explains.
"Yeah, because he’s worse," I counter.
"I don’t get what your problem is with him."
"I hate the way he exists," I shrug, earning a snort from Sierra. Until now, she had been busy scrolling on her phone, probably searching for the mascara that went out of stock last time because she missed the window by five minutes and subsequently sobbed for an hour.
"Stop being irrational, Rei," Sierra says, chuckling.
"Irrational? That monotonous asshole made me look like a fucking fool in front of my class." I could still feel the heat rising at the back of my neck, remembering the way my *whole* class and the professor agreed with his points while I stood there, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.
"It was a debate. One side has to win and the other has to lose, Rei. That’s how it works." Leigh’s words are meant to be comforting, I know, but they only manage to irritate me further because my side did not win.
"I lost ,Leigh," I emphasize. I don’t lose. That is for the weak, and I’m not weak.
I hated the way some of my classmates passed me sympathetic smiles while others smirked because I hadn't won.
"How about you try harder next time instead of bitching behind my back?" My fists clench at my sides, gripping my knee-length dress until my nails dig crescents into my palms at the sound of his deep, controlled voice.
Okay Google, how to murder your godmother’s son and get away with it?
My eyes narrow as I take in the unpleasant sight of him standing ten steps away. He's casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest. The sleeves of his crisp black shirt are rolled up just enough to suggest comfort rather than casualty.
He smiles as he nods at Leigh, Chris, and Sierra. It’s that 'golden boy' smile that charms everyone. The same smile he wore while butchering every point I made earlier today—and I want nothing more than to wipe it off his face.
"How about you stop eavesdropping on other people’s conversations?" I counter.
"Other people?" Amusement colors his sharp features. "And here I thought we shared some special connection, Rei."
"In your dreams, Ivan."
"Oh. So now you want me to dream about you?"
"Yes, because that’s the only place where I’ll ever entertain your bullshit."
"Funny—for someone who hates how I exist, you sure spend a lot of time *obsessing* over me."
"Anyone ever tell you that your ego is bigger than your dick?"
"Careful, Rei. We don't want people to know our bedroom details now, do we?" he says in a mockingly cautious tone. My entire face turns hot as I glare at the jerk in front of me.
I would rather remain celibate for life than let this fucker lay a finger on me.
"Ahem," Christian clears his throat awkwardly. "As much as I love a good show, I’d rather not hear about my cousins' bedroom details."
"There are no bedroom details to share!" I object, feeling more offended than ever. My cousin really thinks I’d even consider the idea of bedding Ivan Volkov.
"Yet," Ivan adds. With the way my jaw drops, I’m surprised it’s not touching the floor.
The audacity.
"That was a good one, bro," Sierra says, bursting out laughing.
"I know," Ivan winks in her direction. I wish I could gouge out those cloudy gray eyes.
"You have a death wish, Si?" I ask her, hands resting on my hips, a tight smile stretched over my lips.
"I don't think it's morally good to study law and give death threats," Ivan says, dropping onto the couch beside Leigh and reaching for her macarons.
She immediately jerks the bowl away. “Get your own.”
“You wound me.”
“You ate mine yesterday.”
“And I’ll do it again.”
While they argue over macarons, I grab my bag from the table, still simmering from the debate, his smug expression, and the fact that part of me hates how good he is at getting under my skin.
"And you’re going to teach me about a moral compass now, Mr. Mafia Prince?" I ask, raising my eyebrows in challenge.
"Oh, I can teach you a lot, moya printsessa." Leigh giggles at that; I look at her questioningly, but she only continues to snicker.
"Nicknames and shit, hmm," Sierra’s pink lips curve into a teasing smile, mischief dancing in her ocean-blue eyes that are a shade lighter than my own.
"She likes it. Right, moya printsessa?" Ivan says, resting his arms behind his head and stretching his legs out on the sofa, looking like a giant wall of muscle.
I should leave.
Instead, I step closer until I’m standing directly in front of him. Close enough to notice his eyes aren’t fully gray after all—there’s a hint of blue hidden underneath, stormy and sharp. Close enough that the scent of cedarwood, spice, and expensive cologne hits my nostrils.
Clean. Masculine. Annoyingly addictive.
“You know what your problem is?” I ask.
He leans back against the couch, completely unbothered. “Tell me.”
“No one’s punched you in the face hard enough.”
Sierra bursts into laughter. Ivan just tilts his head, watching me like he’s enjoying this far too much.
“Maybe I’m waiting for the right girl to do it.”
God, I hate this man.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, turning toward the door before I say something legally concerning. My boots click sharply against the marble floor as I walk out.
And then—
“When?” his amused voice calls after me.
The bastard is lucky murder is illegal.
Chapter-2
“Take a break, Rei,” the librarian, Ana, suggests as I massage my temples.
Ana is a kind woman in her late fifties, and we’ve known each other for months now. I visit the library every day because, with the kind of chaotic people I live with, studying at home would be as difficult as finding a pearl in the ocean.
That’s why, ever since I came to the island, I’ve preferred the library. I spend a huge chunk of my day here.
“I’m good, Ana,” I assure her with a small smile.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little too harsh on yourself?” she asks, concern softening her voice.
“If I’m not harsh enough, I won’t have the straight As I do now,” I reply.
It’s not really a lie. Unlike my genius parents, I’m not a fast learner. I take time to grasp things. Something an average person can understand in minutes takes me hours, but I refuse to let that define me when I can simply work harder and overcome it.
Do I have to put in more effort than others? Yes.
Do I regret it?
Absolutely not.
“Those As aren’t worth more than your health, Rei,” Ana says gently, gesturing toward the five empty coffee mugs scattered across my desk.
Okay, so maybe she has a point there.
Still, concealer does a decent job hiding my eyebags, and sleep is overrated anyway.
“I’m a perfectly functioning human being, Ana,” I say, flashing her my best smile.
She only sighs, shaking her head. “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”
“Of course.”
“Huh. Your future husband is going to have a hard time handling you.”
I make a face. “There’s not going to be any husband.”
With a grin, Ana winks at me. “Time will tell, sweetheart.”
“It won’t,” I counter immediately.
Chuckling, she walks over and shuts my laptop before closing my textbooks one by one.
“Ana!” I gasp. “I still have work to do.”
“It’s Friday night. You have the whole weekend ahead of you, and you’re already far ahead of your deadline,” she says matter-of-factly.
I narrow my eyes at her. “And how exactly do you know that?”
Ana quickly turns away from my desk. “You told me earlier, remember?”
Did I?
Maybe.
I have a bad habit of information-dumping while talking and then forgetting half the things I say afterward. Mom constantly warns me to be more careful, but Papa always defends me, saying I can say whatever I want and if someone creates a problem, he’ll kill them and feed them to sharks.
A laugh escapes me at the memory.
I pick up my phone and switch it on, only to find over fifty notifications waiting for me.
The first few are from Mom.
Mom:Hey baby, how are you doing? I called you, but your phone was switched off. I’m guessing you’re at the library again? Call me back when you see this.
The next messages are from none other than Roman, my best friend.
Ro:Where the fuck are you?
Is it the library again?
I’m gonna burn that goddamn library someday, Rei.
Wait... wait... wait... did you and my dearest brother get into another debate?
Ohhh. So, as confirmed by my sources—and by sources I mean the boring Leigh Sokolov—you two definitely did get into another debate.
Now I understand why Ivan is glowing like a newlywed bride today.
It’s okay, Rei. You can always kick his ass next time. Though maybe don’t kick it too hard since he’s unfortunately my blood and all... but still, you can.
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
“Rei?” Ana calls from the other end of the library.
“Coming,” I answer, stuffing my phone into my pocket before gathering my books and sliding my laptop into my bag.
“You’re still here?” she asks as she approaches with a cup of green tea in hand.
“Just packing up.”
“I was starting to think I’d have to call that pretty boy again to drag you out of here.”
My good mood instantly sours.
“That pretty boy is a menace.”
“He seemed polite enough to me.”
“He is the problem.”
“Kids these days,” Ana mutters dramatically before taking another sip of her tea.
After wishing her goodnight, I walk out of the library and immediately regret it.
Across the street, leaning casually against his bike, is the person I currently despise most in the world.
Ivan Volkov.
A dimple appears on one side of his face as he talks to a brunette from our class—though I can’t remember her name. The girl laughs loudly at something he says, tossing her head back.
Then his eyes find mine.
And just like that, the noise around me fades.
We stare at each other from opposite sides of the street.
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