cinderella | sting x reader

Chapter 8- Apple Juice

Minerva's eyes were wide when I entered through the backdoor to the kitchen with a basket of green apples.

That night, it was like their insults couldn't reach me anymore. They bounced off of me like an invisible, beautiful shield was protecting me.

Even if they made me remove all of the leaves from the roof, or make me polish all of the bathroom tiles, my mind trailed to the happy smile of the unknown man.

He kept me going that night.

But soon, I realized, that just a memory wasn't going to help me against three wicked family members.

One morning, I took some plates and headed to the dining room where Minerva, Sherry, and Sherria where.

I entered, noticing that the table was already set.

I choked on my own breath, stumbling back from the neatly arranged table.

No, it wasn't because they had made the table, it was because the napkins were different.

In a squared pile, soft looking, periwinkle napkins lay.

I could tell what that cloth was from my dreams.

I dropped the three plates, them crashing to the floor. The sound echoed loudly through the room, and the seated girls clapped their hands over their ears dramatically.

"(Y/N)! What did I tell you about being careful about the plates, stupid child?" Minerva roared.

I paid no mind to her.

"The- the na-napkins," I stuttered, absolutely horrified.

"Oh?" a vile smile twisted around her lips, and she stood up gracefully. "Do you like our new napkins, (y/n)? I believe that I found the cloth in your cellar..."

She came over to me, lifting my chin with her index so I looked up at her.

The woman's eyes were as cold and cruel as always. "I do not appreciate you staining the floor. Clean up this mess at once."

She may have spoken quietly, but the order in her voice wasn't hidden.

When she sat back down, I crouched down at the broken, jagged white pieces of plates.

I winced when I picked them up, placing them in my other hand. Blood punctured through my skin as I continued with my bare hands.

When I was done, I left to the kitchen, tears already dripping down my face.

Yuka was sitting on the wooden, kitchen table, snoozing. When he opened his black eyes, he instantly hopped off and trotted away.

Mouses squeaked, and all my little mice friend surrounded me, their squeaks comfort to my ears.

If that man was just with me, I think I'd be able to go through anything.

The cloak he wore, and the glimpse of clothes underneath, showed me that he was on a different social status. Definitely higher than mine, maybe the son of a Duke or a retired Royal Knight.

I sigh.

Why am I thinking about you now? And all of these ridiculous, hopeful thoughts?

*

Today was the day that the invitations for the ball would be send out to the rest of the country.

Sting sighed, his gaze bored as he watched the knights train outside in a field next to the castle.

The blonde was already above their level, so it was pointless to join them in combat.

His thoughts kept sneaking away to the (h/c)-haired girl, and every time he thought about her fragile, pure figure he would close his eyes to regain his formal form.

That girl did something to him, a sort of feeling made him grin and a few seconds later Rogue would hit him on the head for his 'foolish smile'.

But when she thanked the tree as if talking to his mother, he knew that... that... she would be special to him.

Special.

The only special people in his life were Rogue, my dying father, and Lector.

The blonde was constantly trying to convince himself, that he didn't, in fact, open up his last ball to all the people in his country just because of her.

Maybe.

Yet, by her ragged clothing, he doubts she has any status-

"Hey, pretty boy! I challenge you to a duel!" Orga boasted, thumping a fist on his chest.

Sting snapped out of his thoughts, turning his attention to the ocean-haired man. Orga Nanagear was still not wearing the proper uniform, but then again, none of us did.

"Not in the mood right now, Orga," Sting sighed, crossing his arms over his tight-shirted chest and leaned his head against the pillar.

"Oh?" Orga challenged. "Scared to lose?"

"No," Sting says blatantly. "I'm just not in the mood to see you 6 feet under the ground right now."

Orga grinned. "Well then, your highness, how about I sing a song to celebrate your interest in something else than fighting?"

"Now now, I don't think right now- erghm, is the right occasion," Rufus quickly interfered, voice posh as always.

Rogue stayed silent.

"Your highness... what is your opinion of the upcoming ball?" Rufus turned to Sting, who groaned.

"I'm my own person, the goddamn crown prince, and I can't even choose my own wife!"

"Language, your highness!"

The blue eyed man rolled his eyes.

"They are announcing it tomorrow, after all," Rufus added, earning a nod from Orga.

"What?!" Sting roared, advancing on the two as they shuffled back instantly.

"Sting, everyone knows," Rogue sighed, running a hand through his hair and revealing more of the scar on his nose.

"I- I just, didn't expect i-it to be so soon!" Sting stuttered distractedly.

"Your father told you Sting, or did you fo-"

The rickety racket of leaving carriages was heard next.

Sting paled. 

HACK FOR EXORCISING WRITERS BLOCK:

1. Brainstorm cute drabbles during math class with your math teacher breathing down your neck like a vulture

2. Write in a public space while eating ice cream and cover your keyboard with melted vanilla stuff

3. Listen to Halsey, get some chocolate, sit behind a desk with a rolly chair and cushion, and start goddamn writing.