#but i'm out of my writer's block?
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Morning Haze
Fluff without a plot
Words: 2k
Pairing: Cinder Linh x Kai
Fandom: The Lunar Chronicles
Setting: A couple years after Stars Above
Warnings: None
Ao3 Link <3
Cinder was having trouble keeping her eyes open. The more she read about the new regulations on Public Hover Transportation, the more her eyelids felt inclined to close and never open up again. But she read on and barely managed to understand the basic changes the company made. Each blink became tortuous enough that she threw her port across the bed and chose to read the article in her mind, eyes closed.
It wasn’t much better. She realized that it wasn’t her eyes protesting the absence of sleep, but it was her brain refusing to think.
‘This is important’ Torin had said when he sent a the article to her and Kai earlier, ‘PHT hasn’t changed their rules since it was made back when Kai’s grandfather ruled. They have made many changes unofficially since then but now they needed to make an official document on how they would behave toward those who don’t follow their protocal. Recent technology, I believe, is their stated cause. Along with security purposes.”
‘So it contains their responce to people who don’t use the Bio-Lock?” Kai asked, though he knew the answer.
“Yes, but it’s mostly focused on Lunars. They are worried about one of the unlocked Lunars manipulating and hijacking a public hover.”
Of course it’s about Lunars, Cinder remembered thinking. Ever since Garan’s invention came out into the world, every major company changed something about themselves. As Queen, she had to read each article since it regarded her subjects (and each one always gave her a headache).
She thought she’d seen the last of those papers when her reign ended but they keep popping up again. Most of them had already changed their rules when the Bio-Lock was first introduced, except for a few like PHT, but they were minor companies and she didn’t need to read them.
The articles she read before were all the same and easier to understand. But this article had her reading and re-reading each sentence so it made sense. It might be the lack of sleep and how this day would never end, but she just couldn’t read this paper.
“Are you awake, love?” Cinder's eyes flew open immediately.
Kai had been inspecting her face for who knows how long. His fingers lingered on her elbow and she wondered if she was tracing her arms. He had a habit of tracing her figure while she slept and sometimes she’d wake up to it (she usually enjoyed it).
He smiled, a question on his lips, and brought her port up to her face, “Might I ask why your port is on the ground?”
His hair was wet from his recent shower, smelling like soap. It was something about this state that she liked very much and--stars, how she loved it. He was so close to her face she could barely focus.
Cinder smiled back, “I didn’t mean to throw it that far.”
He leaned in closer very slowly. Everything is always slow with him. It both excited and irritated her. “Then why was it thrown?”
“I got tired of reading on a screen so I read in my mind.” Her voice got lower the closer he came, “But the writers of that paper are so repetitive and boring.”
Kai lowered the port on her lap and gradually dragged his fingers across her stomach to rest on her waist. His other hand moved up from her elbow, up her arm, shoulder, collarbone, cheek, then dropped parallel to his other hand. All the while he kept coming closer and closer until he was teasing her with his lips.
Cinder’s heart did circus acts in her chest. Her tiredness miraculously vanished and her eyes could only focus on his perfect, beautiful lips. Lips that have tasted hers more times than her cyborg brain could count. Lips that could sway crowds and speak sweet nothings in her ears. Lips that she has met with her own almost every day. Lips that she would rather drink sewage water than live without.
Kai crept on top of her, taking his time while pretending to not notice the way he was driving her crazy. Cinder wanted to grab and kiss him but she (miraculously) forced herself to be patient.
“What were you reading?” he murmured softly, heading towards her neck.
“You know. The PHT article.” She said, careful to not let her words tremble.
“What part?”
“Uh,” she summoned the article back, “Note 37.”
“Mmm,” Kai’s nose grazed her cheek, then jaw, “The part about Lunars?”
“All of them are about Lunars. But yes.”
She could feel his smile on her skin, “Would you mind reading it to me?”
She sighed, “Note 37: Lunar citizens who do not observe the laws on-,” he finally kissed her neck, “using new technology, specifically the” another kiss, “Bioelectricity Lock-” kiss, “will be asked” kiss, “to leave the public hover-” kiss, “and to not” kiss, “access public transportation-” kiss going upwards, “until they install-” kiss on her jaw, “the lock and show-” kiss on her cheek, “proven records” kiss on the corner of her lips, “of the necessary procedure.”
“Force will be used if someone refuses to leave the public hover, then the hover will trigger an alarm that will notify the nearest Police Station,” he added just as he reached her lips. Still smiling, he tried to pull away but Cinder grabbed his shirt and kissed him.
She kissed him hurriedly, unlike his careful, cautious touches. She was impatient and hasty, digging her fingers in his hair.
They kissed until Kai pulled away with a large grin on his face. Then, he rolled off of her but still held her waist, and dug his face in her neck. He didn’t do anything, just rested there while they caught their breath.
He pulled Cinder closer until she was facing him and pecked her cheek and went up to her lips then her temple. Just like magic, her drowsiness returned and she huddled closer, feeling safe and relaxed in his arms. Not too long after, she fell into a much needed sleep.
~
Kai watched his wife’s body rise and fall. Cinder slept peacefully and deeply. She usually woke up before him (probably due to her internal alarm) and never slept enough.
Recently, Kai had been making sure she had. He would drag himself to bed earlier than usual and drag Cinder along with him.
Proven just last night, this method works.
In the mornings, he would do anything possible to keep her from waking up. If she woke up, he would convince her to not get out of bed yet via whispers in her ear. That either relaxed her or tensed her. It was a 50/50 shot.
This morning, there was no need for whispers or hugs. She slept for such a long time that it was bordering on ‘oversleeping’.
Now, Kai had to wake her up before someone would come looking for them.
He started to stroke her hair, smoothing the fly-aways and curling strands on his finger. Cinder slept facing Kai, her lips upturned just a tiny bit as if she were having a good dream. He wished she was.
He loved her hair, he loved touching it, he loved combing it, he loved pulling it, he loved styling it, he loved everything about it. More he loved her skin, face, lips, eyes, hands, legs, feet, nose, etc. He loved everything about her.
Cinder began to wake, her face twitching slightly. She opened her beautiful brown eyes, covered in a morning haze. She smiled when she saw Kai staring at her. Her lips were touched by magic. She looked ethereal in this sun, absolutely wonderful. He couldn’t believe that she was his, forever tied together, even now after their marriage. Though, it didn’t feel like it would go away in an instant anymore. Now, they could their time loving each other,
“Good morning, my love.” He murmured, kissing her forehead.
Still smiling, she stretched her arms out and looped them around his neck, “Good morning.” She yawned and shut her eyes again.
Kai pulled her closer so her head could rest on his chest. She sighed deeply and stilled for so long that he began to wonder if she fell asleep again.
Instead, she spoke, “I slept a full six hours. My system is telling me to keep it up to be healthy,” he could feel her face scrunch up, “I can’t remember the last time I did that.”
“How was it?”
“Very nice.” Her fingers slowly traced the length of the back of his neck, occasionally curling around strands of his hair, “I dreamt.”
“Oh really?” he asked.
“Yes. About us,” she smiled then with her eyes still closed.
“A good dream I hope,” it was more of a question. Sometimes, more often at the start of their relationship, she would whimper and twitch in her sleep. Sometimes she woke up in sweat and sobs. It hurt Kai to see her get hurt even by her own mind. He would hold her and kiss and remind her that he was here. That he would take care of her and love her until he can no longer breathe. His deepest confessions of love for her were admitted while she was unconscious and hurting. He’s revealed many of them since their wedding though.
“Yes. A very good dream.” She whispered.
“About...?”
Cinder opened her eyes, “Spending our day together. But we weren’t rulers of a country. We were normal and maybe the only people in the world,” she paused, frowning, “I don’t remember anyone else.”
“What did we do?”
“Mmh, kiss, talk, eat, talk, kiss, kiss, and more kissing,” she leaned in as if she was going to kiss his neck. Stars, he hoped so, “I liked that part.”
“I’m sure you did. I’m a good kisser, even in your dreams,” he smirked.
“How would you know? You’re not in them.”
“Intuition, my love.”
She humphed, “You’re just cocky.”
“If I’m ‘just cocky’, then why do you like it so much?” If only she could blush.
Her fingers froze in his hair. She pulled slightly back so she could see him and made a failed attempt at an annoyed face. It was very endearing.
“Because you’re my husband. I don’t think we would be married if I didn’t like it.”
“So you married me for my kissing skills?”
She rolled her eyes, “Yes, Kai.”
“Wowwww Cinder, I didn’t know I married someone so superficial,” he teased.
“Pay more attention.”
“I didn't know you only liked my kisses!” he exaggerated as she slowly pulled him closer, hands still in his hair.
“Among other things,” Cinder muttered while slightly biting her lip. He couldn’t help but stare at the nibble wanting to do that himself. This habit of hers was something he loved since the very day he met her. More often than not she didn’t realize she was doing it but when she did notice she would use it to tease him. And it drove him crazy every single time.
He wondered if she was doing it on purpose right now, in fact.
He pondered just grabbing her and kissing her or playing the waiting game. Meanwhile, her fingers, her beautiful miracle-working fingers, provoked something inside him. The need to kiss her (anywhere, everywhere) grew with the twist or pull of his hair, and when they swirled around his bare neck.
He stared at her as she reached his chest and then up his shirt. She leaned towards him, her hand in his hair tightening and digging itself deeper. Her mouth touched his neck.
Cinder kissed him gently, while he held her waist and brought her as close as he possibly could. He sighed pleasantly.
This was one of Kai’s favorite parts of married life. Waking up holding her every morning, kissing her temple, watching her sleep (if he was lucky enough to wake up before her). He loved it. It was peaceful and relaxing. Full of admiration and coziness. He felt like they were regular people here, waking up in the same bed as regular couples do. Like her dream. He never thought of meetings or the upcoming events of that day in these moments. Only Cinder. But she was the one who always brought it up.
As if on cue, she pulled away from him, her brow furrowed.
“What’s up?” he asked in a lazy tone.
She sighed, “Ugh. We have a meeting on the PHT article today and I can’t remember anything.” Sadly, she pulled her hand away from his chest. What a drag. He liked the feeling.
“Neither can I. But it seems you have the advantage, my love.” He twirled a lock of her hair, “Unlike our unremarkable brains that have to memorize, you get to pull it up on will.”
Cinder rolled her eyes, “Stop complaining."
"What? I was simply noting how awesome my wife's brain is."
"You're so corny." She pushed him off of her and rolled off the bed.
"Yes, but you secretly love it." He sat up, "Admit it."
She walked over to the foot of the bed, "It wouldn't be much of a secret if I did." Then she disappeared inside their giant bathroom to get ready for the day.
Kai plumped back down with a large smile on his face. Good stars, how did he end up here, with her? How did he land someone so perfect? Yes, they had their arguments. Yes, they annoyed each other sometimes. But their relationship felt like a gift from the universe itself. In a different reality, he would have been married to Levana, or some other girl from a good family without even ever meeting Cinder. He could have died without ever knowing her. But he did meet her at the stall that day and he did fall in love with her. She fell in love back. The situation was and is perfect.
As the morning haze painted his features, he contemplated his life and future with Cinder. He was excited about more mornings and late afternoons with her. To convince her to go to sleep and to wake her up. To kiss her every day to their heart's content. They had time, plenty of time, and he planned to not waste any of it.
If only this morning haze lasted forever.
A/N: I'm backkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk (no promises)
Tagging: @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @greenalmond @the-wee-woo-royal @deprivedmusicaljunkie @crescentchat @notjacinclay @wheresmymom-imlost @salt-warrior @rapunzelfromthemoon @briggycat @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp (these are for my kaider ONLY fics so please ask if you want to be tagged or removed <;3)
#kaider#tlc#kaider fic#tlc fanfic#queen selene blackburn#emperor kai of the eastern commonwealth#the lunar chronicles#prince kai <3#emperor kai <3#cinder#kai#this fic took me forever#but i'm out of my writer's block?#i think???????????#idk#is that a thing??#whatever#cinder slays#love cinder forever#mwah#this is#empress cinder#tht era#love this era#she's FINALLY happy#just let the children be happy#please ignore grammar
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Levi: *crying and bawling hus eyes out*
Mc: *comforting him*
Lucifer: .... What happened? *raising an eyebrow at the two of you*
Mc: well... Levi-
Levi: HE FUCKING CHEATED ON MEEE *cries harder*
Lucifer: he? I didn't know you have a boyfrien-
Mc: it's not a boyfriend lucifer
Lucifer: then what is it?
Mc: he's Levi gaming buddy, apparently he found a new much more 'good' gaming buddy so he played with the new game buddy while still with Levi, and couple hours earlier Levi just got dumped by him.
Lucifer: ....... Where's mammon? *Levi cries and wails can be heard in the background*
Mc: well as soon as he found out what that demon did he immediately flies to go to they're place
Lucifer: for what?
Mc: .... To kill him
Lucifer: *dialed mammon immediately* mammon do not kill him
Lucifer: no, I said do not kill him, don't drop him yet, we need to torture him first
Lucifer: good, I'll tell Satan that he can have a stress relief toy, yes bring him here
Mc: ... This is why I love them (the brothers) *smiles*
Mc: Levi... Do you want to watch the whole tsl from season one to three?
Levi: *sniff* four?
Mc: ok *smiles* four season, let's go, help me get the popcorn
Levi: *sniff* okay... *little smile*
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me mc#obey me crack#obey me incorrect quotes#obey me satan#obey me lucifer#obey me headcanons#obey me sheep mc#obey me nightbringer#obey me fluff#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#I'M BACKKK FRON THE DEADDDD#FINALLY GOT OUT IF MY WRITERS BLOCK
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Do you get the impression the live action is treating us like utter morons?? Like I thought that making it aimed at an older audience would open the doors for more subtle story telling, but no, they're just using monologues to tell us eveything! Like in the second episode Katara's like 'oh his power isn't that he's the avatar, it's that he ~connects~ to people'. Girl we're not idiots we can see that!! And the first episode with Aang's goddawful 'I don't want this responsibility' monologue
THIS, YES. The word that keeps coming to mind is definitely "subtlety". The show for literal children? Had it. The remake for adults? Not so much.
#This is literally Storytelling 101: Show Don't Tell#I'm sorry scriptwriters I know you were working before your union won minimal staffing in writers' rooms and decent pay and all that#but You Know What You Did#Also cgi artists plz unionize#A few more hours on Momo would have maybe taken him further out of the nightmare monkey puppet category#I know some people are reporting him as cute#But all I can see is a creature from the Magnus Archives#that thing is the skin of Momo being worn by something that doesn't quite move right underneath#And maybe it is looking for a better fit#Don't let it touch you adorable child actor Aang#avatar the last airbender#atla#natla#Anyone looking to block the live action posts I'll be tagging all of these with that natla tag going forward#But yeah not going to post about it much#I came I saw I deemed it not worth the hours of my life it asked#I can literally write a better Avatar AU than this#Anyway back to Toph beating up Blind Zuko!#*write write write"#(their big budget fanfic can't hurt me it can only introduce more fans to the original)
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he says, even though when we die in the second ending, he's on the floor carrying our lifeless body, crying his heart out, as his tears stream down his face and drip onto the floor where our body used to be, but is now gone without a trace like a ghost.
#yes i'm a writer#haha detailed angst i chose you!#no writer's block has been on my ass since the beginning of time so all this “talent” has been stored... s o m e w h e r e#yes I've been aggressively pumping out posts about Casper and A Date with Death because i love our babygirl too much#yes whenever i screenshot him or picture him (or both) i always include his whole hand and fingers cause yes#yes yes yes#a date with death#a date with death casper#adwd casper#a date with death grim#adwd grim#a date with death vn#casper a date with death#i legit just posted a couple of seconds ago now here's another one
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"You are going grey, my dear." Astarion grins as he seats himself in Halsin's lap, hooking his arms around the man's shoulders.
Halsin's mortality was a subject that Astarion thought about often with no small amount of trepidation. The idea that one of the only people that shared in his freedom and experienced the horrors that the Netherbrain brought would be gone left Astarion anxious.
There was Gale, the wizard had made himself virtually immortal completely by accident, but it was *Gale*.
"I was already going grey Astarion." Halsin laughs, dropping his book to lightly rest his hands on Astarion's thighs.
"Fine, more grey."
Halsin hums, "Well, it has been a few centuries my heart. Age was bound to begin to catch up with us."
"Us!? Heavens no, I still look no older than 39." Astarion says sitting back to gaze down at Halsin, holding a hand to his chest in offense.
The inconsistent aging bothered Astarion on occasion. He still had the same face as he did when he died while Halsin aged beside him. His mind drifts to Thaniel and how Halsin would have to age out of yet another person.
Astarion is dragged from his thoughts when he hears Halsin's deep laugh.
"My apologies for such an implication, little love." He pats Astarion's thighs.
"Nonetheless, the centuries have changed me."
And they have. To say Halsin has grown into his body would be an understatement. He's softer around the edges now, laugh lines engraved deeper into his face and god, the tamed beard the man's decided to support drives Astarion to insanity.
And of course, the aforementioned greying hair.
"They have." Astarion agrees leaning down to lay a kiss on the tip of Halsin's nose, earning him a breathy laugh. He sits up brushing the loose hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears.
The following shiver that his light touch against the ears edge prompts is a reaction Astarion will forever treasure.
"For the better I hope?"
Astarion laughs.
"Oh, positively. You make me down right ravenous." He purrs, burying his face in the mans neck and lightly nips at Halsin's ear.
#I'm still trying to force myself out of writers block#So enjoy this shitty little thing#Anyways#Astarion is actually struggling with the idea of losing Halsin#And this is either going to play into my majour character death idea or my idea of Astarion some how finding a way back to mortality#halstarion#halsin#astarion
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I decided to write an alternate ending to Spandam confronting Doflamingo. The thrilling conclusion to the Spandam fucks around and finds out trilogy.
Warnings for violence, body horror, torture, death, and Doflamingo using his devil fruit in egregious ways.
Warlord meetings could be mildly amusing and entertaining to a point. An opportunity to annoy other warlords and Sengoku or terrorize some lowly marines was a grand old time in Doflamingo's book.
Today was not one of those days where he could enjoy such trivial pleasures. He had too much on his mind. He didn't want to be here at all and only showed up on the off chance that they might let slip some information he wants. Much to his chagrin, nothing of note came from the meeting. His dear niece wasn't mentioned once.
With his mood already sour, he didn't care enough to turn around when he heard someone behind him yelling. No one here would dare to speak to him that way, so he knows it's not for him, and thus not important.
At least that's what he thought until someone grabbed the bottom of his coat and yanked on it.
A vein bulged in his forehead and an eye twitched. Whoever was stupid enough to do this wasn't going to be around long enough to do it again.
Doflamingo whipped around with an unnaturally wide smile on his face, ready to see who had just volunteered themselves to be some prime stress relief for him.
Far beneath him was a pathetic whelp of a man that he had recently become familiar with through his investigating. Spandam was glowering up at him with stiff posture enforced by the brace around his torso. It would appear that he's graduated from using a wheelchair. Such a shame that he won't be able to enjoy that for long.
Stooping down, Doflamingo leered at the man, "What do you want?"
"You know exactly what I want!" Spandam snapped at the warlord with a shocking level of confidence given that he didn't have so much as a single Cipher Pol guard dog with him. "I know that you know where Nubia is."
Much to Doflamingo's absolute chagrin, Spandam was wrong. Despite his best efforts, even he had been struggling to track her down. Those Straw Hat Pirates moved awfully quick, he'll give them that. As soon as he thought he had them, they were popping up somewhere else entirely. But Spandam didn't need to know this. Doflamingo chuckled, "And if I do?"
Spandam was visibly incensed by the response. His lip curled up into a snarl, "You need to disclose anything and everything you have on her to me! She is a wanted fugitive, and I'll see to it that you lose your warlord privileges if you're hiding her!"
The threat was completely empty. A Cipher Pol Chief didn't have authority over who was and wasn't a warlord. Even if he did, Doflamingo wouldn't care. He was powerful enough to not need the protection granted by the status.
Doflamingo laughed loudly, relishing in the palpable anger on Spandam's face. "I have nothing to tell you."
"Do you have any idea what that little demon did to me?!"
"Oh, yes. I'm very aware. I've never been so proud." Doflamingo chuckled as he recalled first reading the leaked medical records that he got a hold of. Truly, he didn't think Nubia had that in her, but it was a very pleasant surprise. It only made him want to have her under his care more.
Spandam was seething and noisily grinding his teeth. The ones he had left, at least. "Proud? Proud?! We'll see how proud you are when I've gotten my hands on her and reduced her to a screaming, sniveling brat begging for the mercy of death! And I w-!"
The tangent was cut short as Doflamingo forced his strings through Spandam's lips and pulled them tight. Muffled screams came out of his victim as he clawed at his mouth, desperate the pull out the strings. Even with his mouth sewn shut, his screams were surprisingly loud. It would be a shame if he anyone heard this and tried to cut the fun short...
Carefully manipulating his strings, Doflamingo forces them down Spandam's throat and into the laryn. He scream and writhes in pain, before being silenced when the strings wrap around the vocal cords and squeeze them tight.
Finally, Doflamingo was seeing the terror that he had been craving. He could tell that Spandam was putting together that Doflamingo had no intention of killing him quickly.
Doflamingo grabbed him by the brace and wrenched him up off the ground, noting how the man's eyes roll back from the pain of having his already severely damaged spine jostled violently. How cute. It was about to get so much worse.
Strings tapped into his spine, but instead of stopping there, he pushed them in deeper. Spandam flailed and tried to reach behind himself to pull them out, but that was put to rest quickly with the help of the parasitic strings taking control of his arms and forcing them to grab onto the two bars at the back of the brace instead. And pull.
The vocal cords were vibrating intensely from within his clutches, but were unable to make a sound. His strings slithered down the spinal column, wrapping around each and every vertebrate and searching for the broken ones. This was easy enough given that the metal rods stuck out like a sore thumb.
Doflamingo's grin split across his face and he brought Spandam up just enough to be at eye level with him, "What was it that you were going to do again? Reduce Nubia to 'a screaming, sniveling brat begging for the mercy of death'? That's what you said, yes?" Doflamingo paused as if Spandam could actually answer, mostly just to humor himself.
A malicious laugh crackled out of him as he saw the pleading desperation in Spandam's eyes grow more and more frantic. Doflamingo sneered at the pathetic display and ground out one last sentence, "If you're going to make threats, you need to be strong enough to face the consequences of them."
With that said, the strings tighten around the metal rods in his spine and rip. Them. Out. The bones they were once embedded in crack and shatter in response, and he can feel broken blood vessels soaking the strings. Spandam's body flails wildly for a few seconds, then jerks violently.
Without even touching the heart, Doflamingo can feel the cardiac arrhythmia clearly. The heart's rhythm couldn't regulate itself, not with the the strain it was under. Abruptly, it stopped, unable to cope with what it was being forced to endure.
Spandam's body spasmed a few times, then went limp. Doflamingo scoffed and dropped the dead body to the ground. Of course this weak coward would go into cardiac arrest and die just when things were getting interesting.
Still... Doflamingo couldn't deny that he felt much better now after blowing off some steam. How grand that the CP9 Chief had one moment of usefulness in his life.
The warlord turned on his heels and to resume the walk back to his ship, leaving the body to be discovered by whomever happens upon it first.
#strays au#crocodad series#donquixote doflamingo#spandam#i know this is random but i'm just writing whatever to try and force myself out of my writer's block
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A CHEERLEADER AND A FOOTBALLER, HOW CLICHÉ!
🏉 . . . Football player! Jason Grace x Cheerleader! Reader
in which: Sports have always brought the two of you guys together.
authors note: y'all should really be thanking pookie @chqsing-annabcth because she's the whole reason you guys keep on getting these cute little fics. anyways, I don't have much to say except for this one is a little shorter than what I would usually do ( cough, cough, writers block ) so hopefully you guys still enjoy.
warnings: literally none
If you were being honest, dating Jason wasn't originally apart of the plan.
It's not like there was anything wrong with the dude, more like the opposite. He was loved by all of the students, teacher, and the lunch ladies, and still found a way to act like he wasn't special. You found it to be really sweet, but so did everybody else. You'd known the dude for longer, and yet you didn't know if you had a chance. Everybody wanted him, and that made you feel a lot more doubtful.
But to your surprise, Jason was the one to ask you out. In a very cheesy, Lin-Manuel Miranda would be proud type way. It went like this: He randomly pulled you aside, gave you a bouquet of flowers and a pair of headphones on your head. What was it playing? Puppy Princess by Hot Freaks. It took you a second to realize what he was implying, but lets just say you were glad he was as cheesy as he was.
Ever since then? it went from everybody loves Jason to everybody loves you and Jason. Sure, some people found the cheerleader and the football player being together was a little stereotypical, but that was the only thing they could say. The two of you were too adorable together for anyone to hate on you guys.
Though, lets set a new scene: The day of your two year anniversary. Jason and the other boys on the Football team have a game today. Not that you minded spending your and Jason's special day on the field, but you wondered what you could do to make the day a little more special. Maybe Jason would take you out after the game? you weren't sure.
But right now you and your fellow cheerleader were doing what normal cheerleaders do: cheer on the players. I mean, that was in the job description. Even though you'd rather not admit it, you were a little tired. You'd been yelling, clapping, and stomping your feet onto the ground for a good few hours now and all you really wanted to do was crash into your bed. But the game was almost over, so the best thing you could do is wait. it would all be over at some point, right?
Well, you may or may not have spaced out for a little too long because by the type you looked around again, your school's student section was cheering. Did you seriously just space out so hard that you missed your school winning? maybe. not that you really cared, though, that just meant you and Jason got to do you thing.
And when I say thing, I don't mean something sexual. I mean one of the drop-dead wholesome things in the world. Instead of celebrating with his teammates, he would always run up to you and hug you. Sometimes, depending on how good the game was, he would even spin you around. It was the type of thing you looked forward to after one of the games.
And like you expected, your sunshine boy of a boyfriend walked up to you: helmet off and a smile on his face. "Hey, Blondie." you joked as he finally got close enough to you to hug you.
"Hi, baby." he mumbled as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. It was an awkward position for him to be in, but he could care less. "Guess how many touchdowns I got." Jason said out of nowhere.
"Mmm.. like, three?" you guessed.
"Six."
"Well, I mean, three Times two is six so technically I was close." You shrugged, causing Jason to laugh. He moved from the position he was original in and wrapped his arms around you waist.
"Oh! happy annv—" before you could finish your sentence, Jason placed a kiss onto your lips and finished it for you.
"Happy anniversary. I would take you out but I'd rather take you home instead." He smiled, the scar on his lip twitching when he did. "Take me home then." you smiled. "and take a shower. the smell is smelling right now."
"You didn't even have to do me like that."
#𓂃 ✴: zuri’s fics!#i'm finally out of writers block era!!#i'm living my best life rn like I finished my math homeworks on time#and I posted a new fic (on wattpad)#anyways I'm so proud of myself#see you guys later!!#heros of olympus#jason grace#jason grace x reader
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Twelve, Thirteen, and One
Words: 6k
Rating: G
Themes: Friendship, Self-Giving Love
(Written for the Four Loves Fairytale Retelling Challenge over at the @inklings-challenge! A Cinderella retelling feat. curious critters and a lot of friendship.)
When the clock chimes midnight on that third evening, thirteen creatures look to the girl who showed them all kindness.
—
It’s hours after dark, again, and the human girl still sleeps in the ashes.
The mice notice this—though it happens so often that they’ve ceased to pay attention to her. She smells like everything else in the hearth: ashy and overworked, tinged with the faint smell of herbs from the kitchen.
When she moves or shifts in her sleep (uncomfortable sleep—even they can sense the exhaustion in her posture as she sits slumped against the wall, more willing to seep up warmth from the stone than lie cold elsewhere this time of year), they simply scurry around her and continue combing for crumbs and seeds. They’d found a feast of lentils scattered about once, and many other times, the girl had beckoned them softly to her hand, where she’d held a little chunk of brown bread.
Tonight, she has nothing. They don’t mind—though three of them still come to sniff her limp hand where it lies drooped against the side of her tattered dress.
A fourth one places a little clawed hand on the side of her finger, leaning over it to investigate her palm for any sign of food.
When she stirs, it’s to the sensation of a furry brown mouse sitting in her palm.
It can feel the flickering of her muscles as she wakes—feeling slowly returning to her body. To her credit, she cracks her eyes open and merely observes it.
They’re all but tame by now. The Harsh-Mistress and the Shrieking-Girl and the Angry-Girl are to be avoided like the plague never was, but this girl—the Cinder-Girl, they think of her—is gentle and kind.
Even as she shifts a bit and they hear the dull crack of her joints, they’re too busy to mind. Some finding a few buried peas (there were always some peas or lentils still hidden here, if they looked carefully), some giving themselves an impromptu bath to wash off the dust. The one sitting on her hand is doing the latter, fur fluffed up as it scratches one ear and then scrubs tirelessly over its face with both paws.
One looks up from where it’s discovered a stray pea to check her expression.
A warm little smile has crept up her face, weary and dirty and sore as she seems to be. She stays very still in her awkward half-curl against stone, watching the mouse in her hand groom itself. The tender look about her far overwhelms—melts, even—the traces of tension in her tired limbs.
Very slowly, so much so that they really aren’t bothered by it, she raises her spare hand and begins lightly smearing the soot away from her eyes with the back of her wrist.
The mouse in her palm gives her an odd look for the movement, but has discovered her skin is warmer than the cold stone floor or the ash around the dying fire. It pads around in a circle once, then nudges its nose against her calloused skin, settling down for a moment.
The Cinder-Girl has closed her eyes again, and drops her other hand into her lap, slumping further against the wall. Her smile has grown even warmer, if sadder.
They decide she’s quite safe. Very friendly.
—
The old rat makes his rounds at the usual times of night, shuffling through a passage that leads from the ground all the way up to the attic.
When both gold sticks on the clocks’ moonlike faces point upward, there’s a faint chime from the tower-clock downstairs. He used to worry that the sound would rouse the humans. Now, he ignores it and goes about his business.
There’s a great treasury of old straw in the attic. It’s inside a large sack—and while this one doesn’t have corn or wheat like the ones near the kitchen sometimes do, he knows how to chew it open all the same.
The girl sleeps on this sack of straw, though she doesn’t seem to mind what he takes from it. There’s enough more of it to fill a hundred rat’s nests, so he supposes she doesn’t feel the difference.
Tonight, though—perhaps he’s a bit too loud in his chewing and tearing. The girl sits up slowly in bed, and he stiffens, teeth still sunk into a bit of the fabric.
“Oh.” says the girl. She smiles—and though the expression should seem threatening, all pulled mouth-corners and teeth, he feels the gentleness in her posture and wonders at novel thoughts of differing body languages. “Hello again. Do you need more straw?”
He isn’t sure what the sounds mean, but they remind him of the soft whuffles and squeaks of his siblings when they were small. Inquisitive, unafraid. Not direct or confrontational.
She’s seemed safe enough so far—almost like the woman in white and silver-gold he’s seen here sometimes, marveling at his own confidence in her safeness—so he does what signals not-afraid the best to his kind. He glances her over, twitches his whiskers briefly, and goes back to what he was doing.
Some of the straw is too big and rough, some too small and fine. He scratches a bundle out into a pile so he can shuffle through it. It’s true he doesn’t need much, but the chill of winter hasn’t left the world yet.
The girl laughs. The sound is soft and small. It reminds him again of young, friendly, peaceable.
“Take as much as you need,” she whispers. Her movements are unassuming when she reaches for something on the old wooden crate she uses as a bedside table. With something in hand, she leans against the wall her bed is a tunnel’s-width from, and offers him what she holds. “Would you like this?”
He peers at it in the dark, whiskers twitching. His eyesight isn’t the best, so he finds himself drawing closer to sniff at what she has.
It’s a feather. White and curled a bit, like the goose-down he’d once pulled out the corner of a spare pillow long ago. Soft and long, fluffy and warm.
He touches his nose to it—then, with a glance upward at her softly-smiling face, takes it in his teeth.
It makes him look like he has a mustache, and is a bit too big to fit through his hole easily. The girl giggles behind him as he leaves.
—
There’s a human out in the gardens again. Which is strange—this is a place for lizards, maybe birds and certainly bugs. Not for people, in his opinion. She’s not dressed in venomous bright colors like the other humans often are, but neither does she stay to the manicured garden path the way they do.
She doesn’t smell like unnatural rotten roses, either. A welcome change from having to dart for cover at not just the motions, but the stenches that accompany the others that appear from time to time.
This human is behind the border-shubs, beating an ornate rug that hangs over the fence with a home-tied broom. Huge clouds of dust shake from it with each hit, settling in a thin film on the leaves and grass around her.
She stops for a moment to press her palm to her forehead, then turns over her shoulder and coughs into her arm.
When she begins again, it’s with a sharp WHOP.
He jumps a bit, but only on instinct. However—
A few feet from where he settles back atop the sunning-rock, there’s a scuffle and a sharp splash. Then thrashing—waster swashing about with little churns and splishes.
It’s not the way of lizards to think of doing anything when one falls into the water. There were several basins for fish and to catch water off the roof for the garden—they simply had to not fall into them, not drown. There was little recourse for if they did. What could another lizard do, really? Fall in after them? Best to let them try to climb out if they could.
The girl hears the splashing. She stares at the water pot for a moment.
Then, she places her broom carefully on the ground and comes closer.
Closer. His heart speeds up. He skitters to the safety of a plant with low-hanging leaves—
—and then watches as she walks past his hiding place, peers into the basin, and reaches in.
Her hand comes up dripping wet, a very startled lizard still as a statue clinging to her fingers.
“Are you the same one I always find here?” she asks with a chiding little smile. “Or do all of you enjoy swimming?”
When she places her hand on the soft spring grass, the lizard darts off of it and into the underbrush. It doesn’t go as far as it could, though—something about this girl makes both of them want to stand still and wait for what she’ll do next.
The girl just watches it go. She lets out a strange sound—a weary laugh, perhaps—and turns back to her peculiar chore.
—
A song trails through the old house—under the floorboards—through the walls—into the garden, beneath the undergrowth—and lures them out of hiding.
It isn’t an audible song, not like that of the birds in the summer trees or the ashen-girl murmuring beautiful sounds to herself in the lonely hours. This one was silent. Yet, it reached deep down into their souls and said come out, please—the one who helped you needs your help.
It didn’t require any thought, no more than eat or sleep or run did.
In chains of silver and grey, all the mice who hear it converge, twenty-four tiny feet pattering along the wood in the walls. The rat joins them, but they are not afraid.
When they emerge from a hole out into the open air, the soft slip-slap of more feet surround them. Six lizards scurry from the bushes, some gleaming wet as if they’d just escaped the water trough or run through the birdbath themselves.
As a strange little hoard, they approach the kind girl. Beside her is a tall woman wearing white and silver and gold.
The girl—holding a large, round pumpkin—looks surprised to see them here. The woman is smiling.
“Set the pumpkin on the drive,” the woman says, a soft gleam in her eye. “The rest of you, line up, please.”
Bemused, but with a heartbeat fast enough for them to notice, the girl gingerly places the pumpkin on the stone of the drive. It’s natural for them, somehow, to follow—the mice line in pairs in front of it, the rat hops on top of it, and the lizards all stand beside.
“What are they doing?” asks the girl—and there’s curiosity and gingerness in her tone, like she doesn’t believe such a sight is wrong, but is worried it might be.
The older woman laughs kindly, and a feeling like blinking hard comes over the world.
It’s then—then, in that flash of darkness that turns to dazzling light, that something about them changes.
“Oh!” exclaims the girl, and they open their eyes. “Oh! They’re—“
They’re different.
The mice aren’t mice at all—and suddenly they wonder if they ever were, or if it was an odd dream.
They’re horses, steel grey and sleek-haired with with silky brown manes and tails. Their harnesses are ornate and stylish, their hooves polished and dark.
Instead of a rat, there’s a stout man in fine livery, with whiskers dark and smart as ever. He wears a fine cap with a familiar white feather, and the gleam in his eye is surprised.
“Well,” he says, examining his hands and the cuffs of his sleeves, “I suppose I won’t be wanting for adventure now.”
Instead of six lizards, six footmen stand at attention, their ivory jackets shining in the late afternoon sun.
The girl herself is different, though she’s still human—her hair is done up beautifully in the latest fashion, and instead of tattered grey she wears a shimmering dress of lovely pale green, inlaid with a design that only on close inspection is flowers.
“They are under your charge, now,” says the woman in white, stepping back and folding her hands together. “It is your responsibility to return before the clock strikes midnight—when that happens, the magic will be undone. Understood?”
“Yes,” says the girl breathlessly. She stares at them as if she’s been given the most priceless gift in all the world. “Oh, thank you.”
—
The castle is decorated brilliantly. Flowery garlands hang from every parapet, beautiful vines sprawling against walls and over archways as they climb. Dozens of picturesque lanterns hang from the walls, ready to be lit once the sky grows dark.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the castle,” the girl says, standing one step out of the carriage and looking so awed she seems happy not to go any further. “Father and I used to drive by it sometimes. But it never looked so lovely as this.”
“Shall we accompany you in, milady?” asks one of the footmen. They’re all nearly identical, though this one has freckles where he once had dark flecks in his scales.
She hesitates for only a moment, looking up at the pinnacles of the castle towers. Then, she shakes her head, and turns to look at them all with a smile like the sun.
“I think I’ll go in myself,” she says. “I’m not sure what is custom. But thank you—thank you so very much.”
And so they watch her go—stepping carefully in her radiant dress that looked lovelier than any queen’s.
Though she was not royal, it seemed there was no doubt in anyone’s minds that she was. The guards posted at the door opened it for her without question.
With a last smile over her shoulder, she stepped inside.
—
He's straightening the horses' trappings for the fifth time when the doors to the castle open, and out hurries a figure. It takes him a moment to recognize her, garbed in rich fabrics and cloaked in shadows, but it's the girl, rushing out to the gilded carriage. A footman steps forward and offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully as she steps up into the seat.
“Enjoyable evening, milady?” asks the coachman. His whiskers are raised above the corners of his mouth, and his twinkling eyes crinkle at the edges.
“Yes, quite, thank you!” she breathes in a single huff. She smooths her dress the best she can before looking at him with some urgency. “The clock just struck quarter till—will you be able to get us home?”
The gentle woman in white had said they only would remain in such states until midnight. How long was it until the middle of night? What was a quarter? Surely darkness would last for far more hours than it had already—it couldn’t be close. Yet it seemed as though it must be; the princesslike girl in the carriage sounded worried it would catch them at any moment.
“I will do all I can,” he promises, and with a sharp rap of the reins, they’re off at a swift pace.
They arrive with minutes to spare. He knows this because after she helps him down from the carriage (...wait. That should have been the other way around! He makes mental note for next time: it should be him helping her down. If he can manage it. She’s fast), she takes one of those minutes to show him how his new pocketwatch works.
He’s fascinated already. There’s a part of him that wonders if he’ll remember how to tell time when he’s a rat again—or will this, all of this, be forgotten?
The woman in white is there beside the drive, and she’s already smiling. A knowing gleam lights her eye.
“Well, how was the ball?” she asks, as Cinder-Girl turns to face her with the most elated expression. “I hear the prince is looking for fair maidens. Did he speak with you?”
The girl rushes to grasp the woman’s hands in hers, clasping them gratefully and beaming up at her.
“It was lovely! I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” she all but gushes, her smile brighter and broader than they’d ever seen it. “The castle is beautiful; it feels so alive and warm. And yes, I met the Prince—although hush, he certainly isn’t looking for me—he’s so kind. I very much enjoyed speaking with him. He asked me to dance, too; I had as wonderful a time as he seemed to. Thank you! Thank you dearly.”
The woman laughs gently. It isn’t a laugh one would describe as warm, but neither is it cold in the sense some laughs can be—it's soft and beautiful, almost crystalline.
“That’s wonderful. Now, up to bed! You’ve made it before midnight, but your sisters will be returning soon.”
“Yes! Of course,” she replies eagerly—turning to smile gratefully at coachman and stroke the nearest horses on their noses and shoulders, then curtsy to the footmen. “Thank you all, very much. I could not ask for a more lovely company.”
It’s a strange moment when all of their new hearts swell with warmth and affection for this girl—and then the world darkens and lightens so quickly they feel as though they’ve fallen asleep and woken up.
They’re them again—six mice, six lizards, a rat, and a pumpkin. And a tattered gray dress.
“Please, would you let me go again tomorrow? The ball will last three days. I had such a wonderful time.”
“Come,” the woman said simply, “and place the pumpkin beneath the bushes.”
The woman in white led the way back to the house, followed by an air-footed girl and a train of tiny critters. There was another silent song in the air, and they thought perhaps the girl could hear it too: one that said yes—but get to bed!
—
The second evening, when the door of the house thuds shut and the hoofsteps of the family’s carriage fade out of hearing, the rat peeks out of a hole in the kitchen corner to see the Cinder-Girl leap to her feet.
She leans close to the window and watched for more minutes than he quite understands—or maybe he does; it was good to be sure all cats had left before coming out into the open—and then runs with a spring in her step to the back door near the kitchen.
Ever so faintly, like music, the woman’s laughter echoes faintly from outside. Drawn to it like he had been drawn to the silent song, the rat scurries back through the labyrinth of the walls.
When he hurries out onto the lawn, the mice and lizards are already there, looking up at the two humans expectantly. This time, the Cinder-Girl looks at them and smiles broadly.
“Hello, all. So—how do you do it?” she asks the woman. Her eyes shine with eager curiosity. “I had no idea you could do such a thing. How does it work?”
The woman fixes her with a look of fond mock-sternness. “If I were to explain to you the details of how, I’d have to tell you why and whom, and you’d be here long enough to miss the royal ball.” She waves her hands she speaks. “And then you’d be very much in trouble for knowing far more than you ought.”
The rat misses the girl’s response, because the world blinks again—and now all of them once again are different. Limbs are long and slender, paws are hooves with silver shoes or feet in polished boots.
The mouse-horses mouth at their bits as they glance back at the carriage and the assortment of humans now standing by it. The footmen are dressed in deep navy this time, and the girl wears a dress as blue as the summer sky, adorned with brilliant silver stars.
“Remember—“ says the woman, watching fondly as the Cinder-Girl steps into the carriage in a whorl of beautiful silk. “Return before midnight, before the magic disappears.”
“Yes, Godmother,” she calls, voice even more joyful than the previous night. “Thank you!”
—
The castle is just as glorious as before—and the crowd within it has grown. Noblemen and women, royals and servants, and the prince himself all mill about in the grand ballroom.
He’s unsure of the etiquette, but it seems best for her not to enter alone. Once he escorts her in, the coachman bows and watches for a moment—the crowd is hushed again, taken by her beauty and how important they think her to be—and then returns to the carriage outside.
He isn’t required in the ballroom for much of the night—but he tends to the horses and checks his pocketwatch studiously, everything in him wishing to be the best coachman that ever once was a rat.
Perhaps that wouldn’t be hard. He’d raise the bar, then. The best coachman that ever drove for a princess.
Because that was what she was—or, that was what he heard dozens of hushed whispers about once she’d entered the ball. Every noble and royal and servant saw her and deemed her a grand princess nobody knew from a land far away. The prince himself stared at her in a marveling way that indicated he thought no differently.
It was a thing more wondrous than he had practice thinking. If a mouse could become a horse or a rat could become a coachman, couldn’t a kitchen-girl become a princess?
The answer was yes, it seemed—perhaps in more ways than one.
She had rushed out with surprising grace just before midnight. They took off quickly, and she kept looking back toward the castle door, as if worried—but she was smiling.
“Did you know the Prince is very nice?” she asks once they’re safely home, and she’s stepped down (drat) without help again. The woman in white stands on her same place beside the drive, and when Cinder-Girl sees her, she waves with dainty grace that clearly holds a vibrant energy and sheer thankfulness behind it. “I’ve never known what it felt like to be understood. He thinks like I do.”
“How is that?” asks the woman, quirking an amused brow. “And if I might ask, how do you know?”
“Because he mentions things first.” The girl tries to smother some of the wideness of her smile, but can’t quite do so. “And I've shared his thoughts for a long time. That he loves his father, and thinks oranges and citrons are nice for festivities especially, and that he’s always wanted to go out someday and do something new.”
—
The third evening, the clouds were dense and a few droplets of rain splattered the carriage as they arrived.
“Looks like rain, milady,” said the coachman as she disembarked to stand on water-spotted stone. “If it doesn’t blow by, we’ll come for ye at the steps, if it pleases you.”
“Certainly—thank you,” she replies, all gleaming eyes and barely-smothered smiles. How her excitement to come can increase is beyond them—but she seems more so with each night that passes.
She has hardly turned to head for the door when a smattering of rain drizzles heavily on them all. She flinches slightly, already running her palms over the skirt of her dress to rub out the spots of water.
Her golden dress glisters even in the cloudy light, and doesn’t seem to show the spots much. Still, it’s hardy an ideal thing.
“One of you hold the parasol—quick about it, now—and escort her inside,” the coachman says quickly. The nearest footman jumps into action, hop-reaching into the carriage and falling back down with the umbrella in hand, unfolding it as he lands. “Wait about in case she needs anything.”
The parasol is small and not meant for this sort of weather, but it's enough for the moment. The pair of them dash for the door, the horses chomping and stamping behind them until they’re driven beneath the bows of a huge tree.
The footman knows his duty the way a lizard knows to run from danger. He achieves it the same way—by slipping off to become invisible, melting into the many people who stood against the golden walls.
From there, he watches.
It’s so strange to see the way the prince and their princess gravitate to each other. The prince’s attention seems impossible to drag away from her, though not for many’s lack of trying.
Likewise—more so than he would have thought, though perhaps he’s a bit slow in noticing—her focus is wholly on the prince for long minutes at a time.
Her attention is always divided a bit whenever she admires the interior of the castle, the many people and glamorous dresses in the crowd, the vibrant tables of food. It’s all very new to her, and he’s not certain it doesn’t show. But the Prince seems enamored by her delight in everything—if he thinks it odd, he certainly doesn’t let on.
They talk and laugh and sample fine foods and talk to other guests together, then they turn their heads toward where the musicians are starting up and smile softly when they meet each other’s eyes. The Prince offers a hand, which is accepted and clasped gleefully.
Then, they dance.
Their motions are so smooth and light-footed that many of the crowd forgo dancing, because admiring them is more enjoyable. They’re in-sync, back and forth like slow ripples on a pond. They sometimes look around them—but not often, especially compared to how long they gaze at each other with poorly-veiled, elated smiles.
The night whirls on in flares of gold tulle and maroon velvet, ivory, carnelian, and emerald silks, the crowd a nonstop blur of color.
(Color. New to him, that. Improved vision was wonderful.)
The clock strikes eleven, but there’s still time, and he’s fairly certain he won’t be able to convince the girl to leave anytime before midnight draws near.
He was a lizard until very recently. He’s not the best at judging time, yet. Midnight does draw near, but he’s not sure he understands how near.
The clock doesn’t quite say up-up. So he still has time. When the rain drums ceaselessly outside, he darts out and runs in a well-practiced way to find their carriage.
—
Another of the footmen comes in quickly, having been sent in a rush by the coachman, who had tried to keep his pocketwatch dry just a bit too long. He’s soaking wet from the downpour when he steps close enough to get her attention.
She sees him, notices this, and—with a glimmer of recognition and amusement in her eyes—laughs softly into her hand.
ONE—TWO— the clock starts. His heart speeds up terribly, and his skin feels cold. He suddenly craves a sunny rock.
“Um,” he begins awkwardly. Lizards didn’t have much in the way of a vocal language. He bows quickly, and water drips off his face and hat and onto the floor. “The chimes, milady.”
THREE—FOUR—
Perhaps she thought it was only eleven. Her face pales. “Oh.”
FIVE—SIX—
Like a deer, she leaps from the prince’s side and only manages a stumbling, backward stride as she curtsies in an attempt at a polite goodbye.
“Thank you, I must go—“ she says, and then she’s racing alongside the footman as fast as they both can go. The crowd parts for them just enough, amidst loud murmurs of surprise.
SEVEN—EIGHT—
“Wait!” calls the prince, but they don’t. Which hopefully isn’t grounds for arrest, the footman idly thinks.
They burst through the door and out into the open air.
NINE—TEN—
It has been storming. The rain is crashing down in torrents—the walkways and steps are flooded with a firm rush of water.
She steps in a crevice she couldn’t see, the water washes over her feet, and she stumbles, slipping right out of one shoe. There’s noise at the door behind them, so she doesn’t stop or even hesitate. She runs at a hobble and all but dives through the open carriage door. The awaiting footman quickly closes it, and they’re all grasping quickly to their riding-places at the corners of the vehicle.
ELEVEN—
A flash of lightning coats the horses in white, despite the dark water that’s soaked into their coats, and with a crack of the rains and thunder they take off at a swift run.
There’s shouting behind them—the prince—as people run out and call to the departing princess.
TWELVE.
Mist swallows them up, so thick they can’t hear or see the castle, but the horses know the way.
The castle’s clock tower must have been ever-so-slightly fast. (Does magic tell truer time?) Their escape works for a few thundering strides down the invisible, cloud-drenched road—until true midnight strikes a few moments later.
—
She walks home in the rain and fog, following a white pinprick of light she can guess the source of—all the while carrying a hollow pumpkin full of lizards, with an apron pocket full of mice and a rat perched on her shoulder.
It’s quite the walk.
—
The prince makes a declaration so grand that the mice do not understand it. The rat—a bit different now—tells them most things are that way to mice, but he’s glad to explain.
The prince wants to find the girl who wore the golden slipper left on the steps, he relates. He doesn’t want to ask any other to marry him, he loved her company so.
The mice think that’s a bit silly. Concerning, even. What if he does find her? There won’t be anyone to secretly leave seeds in the ashes or sneak them bread crusts when no humans are looking.
The rat thinks they’re being silly and that they’ve become too dependent on handouts. Back in his day, rodents worked for their food. Chewing open a bag of seed was an honest day’s work for its wages.
Besides, he confides, as he looks again out the peep-hole they’ve discovered in the floor trim of the parlor. You’re being self-interested, if you ask me. Don’t you want our princess to find a good mate, and live somewhere spacious and comfortable, free of human-cats, where she’d finally have plenty to eat?
It’s hard to make a mouse look appropriately chastised, but that question comes close. They shuffle back a bit to let him look out at the strange proceedings in the parlor again.
There are many humans there. The Harsh-Mistress stands tall and rigid at the back of one of the parlor chairs, exchanging curt words with a strange man in fine clothes with a funny hat. Shrieking-Girl and Angry-Girl stand close, scoffing and laughing, looking appalled.
Cinder-Girl sits on the chair that’s been pulled to the middle of the room. She extends her foot toward a strange golden object on a large cushion.
The shoe, the rat notes so the mice can follow. They can’t quite see it from here—poor eyesight and all.
Of course, the girl’s foot fits perfectly well into her own shoe. They all saw that coming.
Evidently, the humans did not. There’s absolute uproar.
“There is no possible way she’s the princess you’re looking for!” declares Harsh-Mistress, her voice full of rage. “She’s a kitchen maid. Nothing royal about her.”
“How dare you!” Angry-Girl rages. “Why does it fit you? Why not us?”
“You sneak!” shrieks none other than Shrieking-Girl. “Mother, she snuck to the ball! She must have used magic, somehow! Princes won’t marry sneaks, will they?”
“I think they might,” says a calm voice from the doorway, and the uproar stops immediately.
The Prince steps in. He stares at Cinder-Girl.
She stares back. Her face is still smudged with soot, and her dress is her old one, gray and tattered. The golden slipper gleams on her foot, having fit as only something molded or magic could.
A blush colors her face beneath the ash and she leaps up to do courtesy. “Your Highness.”
The Prince glances at the messenger-man with the slipper-pillow and the funny hat. The man nods seriously.
The Prince blinks at this, as if he wasn’t really asking anything with his look—it’s already clear he recognizes her—and meets Cinder-Girl’s gaze with a smile. It’s the same half-nervous, half-attemptingly-charming smile as he kept giving her at the ball.
He bows to her and offers a hand. (The rat has to push three mice out of the way to maintain his view.)
“It’s my honor,” he assures her. “Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me to the castle? I’d had a question in mind, but it seems there are—“ he glances at Harsh-Mistress, who looks like a very upset rat in a mousetrap. “—situations we might discuss remedying. You’d be a most welcome guest in my father’s house, if you’d be amenable to it?”
It’s all so much more strange and unusual than anything the creatures of the house are used to seeing. They almost don’t hear it, at first—that silent song.
It grows stronger, though, and they turn their heads toward it with an odd hope in their hearts.
—
The ride to the castle is almost as strange as that prior walk back. The reasons for this are such:
One—their princess is riding in their golden carriage alongside the prince, and their chatter and awkward laughter fills the surrounding spring air. They have a good feeling about the prince, now, if they didn’t already. He can certainly take things in stride, and he is no respecter of persons. He seems just as elated to be by her side as he was at the ball, even with the added surprise of where she'd come from.
Two—they have been transformed again, and the woman in white has asked them a single question: Would you choose to stay this way?
The coachman said yes without a second thought. He’d always wanted life to be more fulfilling, he confided—and this seemed a certain path to achieving that.
The footmen might not have said yes, but there was something to be said for recently-acquired cognition. It seemed—strange, to be human, but the thought of turning back into lizards had the odd feeling of being a poor choice. Baffled by this new instinct, they said yes.
The horses, of course, said things like whuff and nyiiiehuhum, grumph. The woman seemed to understand, though. She touched one horse on the nose and told it it would be the castle’s happiest mouse once the carriage reached its destination. The others, it seemed, enjoyed their new stature.
And three—they are heading toward a castle, where they have all been offered a fine place to live. The Prince explains that he doesn’t wish for such a kind girl to live in such conditions anymore. There’s no talk of anyone marrying—just discussions of rooms and favorite foods and of course, you’ll have the finest chicken pie anytime you’d like and I can’t have others make it for me! Lend me the kitchens and I’ll make some for you; I have a very dear recipe. Perhaps you can help. (Followed in short order by a ...Certainly, but I’d—um, I’d embarrass myself trying to cook. You would teach me? and a gentle laugh that brightened the souls of all who could hear it.)
“If you’d be amenable to it,” she replies—and in clear, if surprised, agreement, the Prince truly, warmly laughs.
“Milady,” the coachman calls down to them. “Your Highness. We’re here.”
The castle stands shining amber-gold in the light of the setting sun. It will be the fourth night they’ve come here—the thirteen of them and the one of her—but midnight, they realize, will not break the spell ever again.
One by one, they disembark from the carriage. If it will stay as it is or turn back into a pumpkin, they hadn't thought to ask. There’s so much warmth swelling in their hearts that they don’t think it matters.
The girl, their princess, smiles—a dear, true smile, tentative in the face of a brand new world, but bright with hope—and suddenly, they’re all smiling too.
She steps forward, and they follow. The prince falls into step with her and offers an arm, and their glances at each other are brimming with light as she accepts.
With her arm in the arm of the prince, a small crowd of footmen and the coachman trailing behind, and a single grey mouse on her shoulder, the once-Cinder-Girl walks once again toward the palace door.
#Well this wasn't my first Cinderella retelling idea that I was excited about BUT -#since that one was turning into a tangle of Too Much Going On (though it's currently at 5k and maybe 70% done; I still plan to finish it)#I tried this one instead!#pros: I think I actually wrote myself out of writer's block? Which is AWESOME#And I feel like I'm starting to notice what needs fixed and mended about my writing; which is very helpful!#cons: due to having the additional pro of a very socially growth-filled few weeks IRL; I did not do much about that fact#please excuse the general lack of editing thus far#I have also learned that I may want to be at least a Level 5 Fairy Tale Reteller#before I tackle stories with hundreds of years of popular retellings and versions?#Although this one came much more easily than my first idea; it still felt more difficult to write than my Nix Nought Nothing story.#So another pro - I learned that I enjoy writing about lesser-known tales the most! Next time I might try a fun obscure one.#All in all this was a ton of fun!! Thanks for running the challenge! Apologies for being nearly late - I had a wonderful time!#I hope you all enjoy! <3#inklingschallenge#four loves fairy tale retelling challenge#love: philia#love: agape#Cinderella#story: complete#basil writes#salt and light
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i, like every other fic author in existence, love getting comments from people who enjoyed my work. i don't care if your comment is "late" (that's so weird to me like it's literature—do you apologize to homer for being late to reading the odyssey?) or "unintelligible" (late night commenters, english language learners, people who feel like they "just aren't that good with words", believe me, i entirely understand what you mean and appreciate it immensely), or anything else that you feel might make your comment 'not good enough'. i love all of the comments i receive and i am eternally grateful to all of you for your continued support.
and yeah, i've read fics where i felt like adding a comment would be doing the fic a disservice because there was nothing that could be said that wouldn't cheapen or patronize the magnum opus i'd just witnessed. in instances like this, that is exactly what i say in the comment: "there's nothing i can say that doesn't do this work of art a disservice. thank you for writing this."
actually, now that i think about it, there are a bunch of ao3 comments i've gotten that i still haven't replied to because i felt any thanks i could give would be inadequate. i should really get around to replying because i want them to know how spellbound they left me. i love you all, have i ever mentioned that?
all of that being said, i would like to make a public service announcement!
at least under default settings, ao3 authors do get notified every time you edit a comment. i've accidentally hit send too early before, or realized i forgot something i wanted to say, i get it, i really do. i have edited many comments in my day.
but you don't have to do this. really, it's okay. most of the time i honestly can't tell what the difference is. i'm not going to think worse of you for having typos in your comments because i guarantee that there were more in the fic you just read sfkljghsl
also these edits were over the course of twenty full minutes. i got another email while writing this post and had to update the image. please do not spend 20 minutes agonizing over your comment and changing the capitalization and adding a few words. it's okay, i promise. i love your comment, and i'm very very grateful for it, regardless of how "polished" it is. i'm not your english teacher in disguise.
tl;dr, i love you all and i hope you don't feel anxiety or a compulsion towards perfectionism in my ao3 comments section. i won't judge you, i promise <3
#squido's op#squido rambles#i hope i don't sound annoyed because i don't want to sound annoyed#but also that was a lot of emails#if they were different comments that would be sick i love that#but on several occasions i've had edit spam#and i don't really understand the logic behind it#i figured that people just don't know that we get notified every time you edit a comment#so that's all i wanted to say really but i got sidetracked with appreciation because i think someone plugged some of my works somewhere#because i've been seeing a big uptick in comments lately and it's really really sweet#i haven't written for this fandom (or at all really) in a long time now so i'm always really really happy to see my works are still#out there and being read and loved and affecting people. i do still plan to finish hfwkadwm i promise#i guess i have writer's block >:/ never had it quite like this before#BUT I SAID I WAS GONNA FINISH IT AND I AM#MARK MY WORDS I'LL FINISH THIS FIC OR DIE TRYING#eventually
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current editing moodboard, please send help
#perfectionism is really kicking my butt rn#that and the fact i had like a week away from writing properly bc chronic pain and now i can’t get back into the headspace#so yeah#perfectionism and brain fog#the inimitable duo#and i know i just need to be patient because it’ll get in the end there like it always does#but rn i’ve spent two nights in a row trying to polish up the last bits of this chapter#and i still just feel so detached from it all i want to pitch my laptop out the window#but i can’t afford a new laptop each time i want to defenestrate it#so this little rant will have to do instead#UGH#it’s so annoying because i am actually so so proud of this chapter and have loved writing it and can’t wait to share it#it’s just this last little bit that i seem to be hitting a brick wall with#anyway sorry#four walls readers don't worry i go through this just about every chapter lol#i'm just feeling it particularly this time because it's a particularly big chapter (both in terms of length and content)#and sometimes venting in the tags and creating an alex moodboard is very therapeutic#writing stuff#alex turner#writer's block#lulu posts
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heyheyhey! how are you?? I hope everything is okay!
perv!minsung x innocent f!reader?
I'm great, honey, thank you 🥰 Everything is going okey for me right now.
MinSung as perverts is one hella good of a trope, specially if you throw an innocent Reader in the mix. They're prone to manipulation already and they won't stop at anything until they get what they want.
They have different ways to proceed in this scenario, but they have one thing in common: They're obsessed with Reader's smell. Have you seen those bunch of videos of them both just shoving their noses in the other's hair or neck to sniff? Yeah, that's it.
They'll steal her clothes and underwear to get off her smell. They fucking drool when they get a sniff to her panties, even more the old ones. Minho shoves it to his face and already leaks pre-cum just by the smell alone, while Jisung straight up licks her essence from it. They'll pass next to her after shower and casually place their noses near her pulse point just to take a small sniff. It calms them down as much as it gets them horny.
They'll enjoy every second of corrupting her. It feeds their ego and their twisted fantasies too. They get off her not knowing what they do and innocently showing herself to them.
Han is a voyeur. He loves to spy her when she's alone, doing private stuff. He touches himself at the sight of Reader pleasuring herself on her bed, opening the door silently to watch her and having to bite his fist to keep his own moans hidden. He tries to synchronize his orgasm with hers, looking at the shiny toys inside her and wishing desesperatly that those were his cock instead. Once she's done, he sneaks inside her bedroom and gets a hold of the toys to use them on himself later, still covered in her juices. He convinces her to let him stay on the bathroom while she showers because "what if you trip and hurt yourself?" and so she lets him stay there, the curtain blocking the sight of her cock growing hard.
Minho is pro-active. He can't stand just watching from afar, no, he needs to act. He lures her with sweet words, caring gestures, portraying himself as just a shy, protective friend that likes to help her. She's just so innocent, so cute, she knows nothing about the world, but don't worry, they're both here to help. He talks her out into letting him help her shower, cleaning the places her hands can't. She finds it a bit weird how his hands wander off further than they're supposed to, like her waist and inner thighs. He stops her when she's about to clean her cunt, telling her to lay back down and trust him, that he'll take care of it. Her brain is so mushy by the massages and the utter submission trust he has ingrained on her that she allows it, letting out a content sigh when his fingers draw lines with the soap on her lips. He has to grap unto every bit of strenght and self-control to not devour her right there.
They both sneaks their hands under her clothes to caress her warm skin, hiding their faces on each side of her neck. They always tell her this is normal, that close friends do this all the time, and due to her lack of experience, she believes every word they spit out. She's so easily influenced, so compliant and sweet. A precious little angel for them to corrupt.
They made her sleep in the same bed as them, in the middle, with their arms trapping hugging her. When she feels hard thing poke at her sides, they hush her and distract her with kisses until she falls asleep. They're shifting positions constantly over the night, explaining they need to find a comfortable one, when in reality they're straight up grinding their dicks on her until they cum. If she feels something wet on the sheets or clothes the next morning, they gaslight her again enough until it's cleaned. They offer to massage her boobs when she's on her period and they hurt, and she doesn't say anything when they start to use their lips to bite her nipples. It's to make the massages better and relax her body, right? And it feels so good..
Whenever they get too horny and can't lay they hands on her, they fuck each other's brains out until they're spent. They use her toys, her clothes and any possession of hers they can't get their hands on. Sometimes they don't even bother into cleaning them..
Of course they're the ones to take her virginity. Who else are going to treat her better than them? She's already used to their touches, to their mouths on her skin, their filthy words. She's completely under their will, fooled by their fake friendship pretense and seduced by their ill-intended attempts, blind to their real motivations. She thinks they simply want to make the experience the most enjoyable for her because they care and are good friends like that. She can't suspect they've been fantasizing and manipulating her secretly to arrive here, to this moment. She's so shy and nervous the whole time, leaving them room to do everything they want with her body.
In short, they'll be twisted and manipulative little shits about it. And they also discovered a corruption kink they didn't know they had.
#i'm sorry for this one#it's not among my best stuff but i tried#i've been dealing with writer's block recently and this has been my attempt to force it out of my system#i'll apreciate feedback or second opinions#hope you liked it enough#minsung x reader#requested#asks#lee know/han jisung x reader#lee know x reader x han jisung#skz smut
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CURSE
GOJO X READER
He’s always believed that love is the most twisted curse of them all.
It was love that drove his mother to insanity. It was the clan’s love for power and status that made him who he is today. It was love that made Rika the Queen of Curses.
That’s why he couldn’t fault Suguru when he turned against the people they should be protecting because his best friend just loved them more than those he deemed unworthy of their sacrifices.
The thing is, Satoru loves Suguru too. He did; he does. Maybe it was romantic. Maybe it was platonic. Who knows? Does love need a label all the time? Why can’t it just mean "love"? That’s why Satoru never cursed him because he wanted Suguru to be free in the afterlife, even when Suguru asked him.
But Satoru loves you, too. Loves you too much, loves you too deep, loves you so much that he physically aches to see your blood and your life in his hands, and he sees the sands of time running out. Loves you to the point of selfishness.
(love is the most twisted curse of them all.)
He opened his eyes to see his students looking at him, and he grins, stands up from his lying position, and stretches. The memory seems like a fever dream now that he saw his students well and happy.
"Why?"
Megumi scratches his head, Yuuji chuckles awkwardly, and Nobara looks at them both as if telling her male classmates to speak.
"Ah, we’re hungry, sensei." It was Yuuji who spoke first. Nobara and Megumi chimed in, and there is no doubt that this is scripted and their attempt at intervention.
The second years are practicing, but he sees that they watch him closely. No doubt just as worried about him as the first years were.
He’s touched, but they shouldn’t be worried. Sure, there’s a physical ache in his chest after what happened, but he doesn’t feel much apart from it.
They walked together towards the restaurant they picked, and his students matched their pace with him. He smiles when he sees his students laughing and smiling together, but there’s something missing.
He sighs. When are you going to stop being mad at him?
His students stop to look at him, worried about his wellbeing after the whole ordeal. Maybe they’re wondering when he’s going to snap when he stops.
He smiles, relieved. The physical ache was gone when he finally felt your presence by his side, and Yuuta’s eyes widened when he saw that it wasn’t Rika who loomed over them.
Satoru has always known that his love is a curse.
#currently suffering from a writers block or idk ??#many ideas but so hard to start writing them i feel like i'm burn out TT___TT need to get this of the drafts tho#because my boy is back!!#and he's still as beautiful as the day i lost him#my forever husband#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk x reader#it's 3 in the morning and i havent gotten sleep ;'(#I MISS U SM @ GOJO#reynwrites#reynwrites.jjk
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hello hello!! i love your writing and your "through shadows" sanji fic series has my heart. just wanted to pop in to see if there are any plans for a part 3??
HI!!! Thank you so so soooo much for your kind words!!!
I am still planning on writing and posting part 3, but I am, unfortunately, the slowest writer to ever grace this earth and who tends to get writer's block more than I wish I would.
Buuutttt part 3 has been on my mind a lot recently, especially since I'm kinda on a Sanji kick right now
I mean, come on! Look at the guy!! LOOK!!! I LOVE HIM TO PIECES!!
I am sooooo close to finishing this part and it's been killing me that I haven't been super inspired to write for it, but now that I am energized to write for Sanji, I'm definitely going to try and finish it!
Your ask definitely is helping me with that, so thank you!!! 🩷🩷
That being said, I will share a little snippet below the break from what I already have written to hold you over until I get it done!!!
“Sanji’s outside,” Usopp said, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes. “Walk around--smoke. Ya know.” You nodded, thanking him before you headed for the night-filled streets.
You found Sanji hadn’t strayed too far from the inn, just across the street hidden almost completely in shadow. To the normal eye, he might have been near impossible to see, but you caught his flash of blond hair and the glow of his cigarette instantly.
You decided to just walk across the light-filled street to get to him, knowing he probably had already seen you. You wanted him to see you.
And the shadows seemed all too dark around you--too lonely. So, you took the lighter path--the direct path to him.
As you grew closer, you found his ocean-blue eyes tracking you, never once leaving you. It made your face flush and your nerves jump to life.
“Hi.” You said simply as you came to a stop just a little before the shadows he stood in. He gave you a small smile as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs.
“Hi.” You rocked a little on your heels, feeling all so exposed in the light as you were. Anyone would could see you--everyone. But you took a breath and smiled up at Sanji, chasing away those thoughts. Focused your whole attention on the tall man in front of you.
“Why are you hiding away over here for? It’s dark--cold.” Sanji gave a small shrug, pulling another inhale of smoke into his lungs.
“It reminds me of you.” He said simply on his exhale, like it was just something someone would say in a casual conversation. It definitely wasn’t and your face was slowly growing hotter.
“Oh…” You said on a swallow, your mouth going all too dry with your nerves. “Um--would you mind walking me to the Merry? I forgot to pack something.” Sanji gave a nod, pushing off the wall he had been leaning on.
“Of course.”
#gingernut answers#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!#I LOVE talking with you all so much!!#And sorry again it has taken me....a few months to finish this story#I really want to finish it I just have been going through it with writers block#BUUUUTT I'm gonna work on it next!!#So hopefully its out soon!!#Sanji#through shadow#one piece#wips#my wips#one piece fic#sanji x reader#divider by saradike graphics
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Prompt: filipino!reader with the turtles (separate)
Note: I'm filipino so if I get some stuff wrong, let me know and I'll make edits to this post
Leo
The day after your other family members showed up as a surprise visit. You apologized to the red slider turtle for slightly panicking. Trying to get him to the nearest window frame of a fire escape exit.
He waved off the apology, more interested that you knew spanish and didn't tell him about it.
You instantly looked at him with a confused expression.
"It's tagalog, not spanish."
It didn't help that Donnie overheard the conversation. While Leo felt a bit embarrassed, jumping to the conclusion of, confusing the language with something else.
"A total of 8 different dialects. There's more but, tagalog just happens to be the common language in the Philippines."
Just as the softshell turtle dropped off your papers with purple pen marks before heading back to his lab.
You still reassured Leo that he didn't mean to offend you. He let out a sigh of relief but, still thinks that its pretty cool that you're aware of your family's culture.
If you can speak it fluently, Leo will sometimes ask on what phrases you usually use.
Or if you're like me, who only knows a few words. He might tease you to try speaking some common phrases only if you're up to it.
Raph
Raph accidentally ran into one of your relatives. An aunt and uncle who were almost swindled out of a deal from Repo Mantis.
The alligator snapping turtle still managed to get them out of there safely. Now at a safe distance close to the Run of the Mill pizzeria.
He was still nervous at the thought of trying to escort them home until the aunt asked if he was okay.
Raph tried his best to hide the panicked tone in his voice until she gasped.
"Oh! You're one of (Y/N)'s friends!" "They're always talk about you and your brothers before any of us ask them about school!"
Timeskip a week later, they ordered pizza to thank Raph for getting them out of that situation. They couldn't stay for too long but still left with big smiles waving goodbye at the turtles.
"Uh, (Y/N). What does it mean if I'm being called 'Kuya Raph'?"
You chuckled saying "You're still the oldest brother of the group." "But it has more of a respectful manner. Since my other family members still use it for some of their friend groups."
"You know checking up on each other even when things aren't so great."
Raph smiled while you confidently stood your ground when his brothers try to find a teasing remark. Mikey eventually stepping back followed by Donnie who slowly grew bored of the banter. And you continued to playfully ignore Leo's idea of a bet that he could go a day taking over Raph's oldest brother role.
Mikey
You asked the box shell turtle for help trying to prepare pancit (a filipino noodle dish.) All of the ingredients laid out on the table and your mom's list with said instructions on cooking the food. You held onto the package containing rice noodles but hesitated opening it.
Mikey took notice of the frown on your face.
"Still nervous on trying to cook this dish on your own?" Mikey asked as you sighed
"Sort of... My mom has the 'oh you're doing this wrong...' whenever I try to cook something that isn't instant noodles." "So, sorry if I'm slow to this cooking thing..."
"Don't worry about what your mom thinks. I'm more happy that you asked for help! And I get to learn a new recipe from my best friend!"
The uneasy what if feeling slowly faded away as you and Mikey followed a few step by step videos with laughter filling the lively atmosphere.
After an hour passed, a knock from your apartment door signaled your mom and two of your relatives' arrival.
Before you told Mikey to hide, a light blue portal threw out a orange hoodie. With Mikey in a hurry putting it on.
"I might be on pizza duty for the next month but, I'm still not letting you face this alone!" Mikey said with a guaranteed grin on his face.
While the dish earned praise from your relatives, you felt more comfortable that Mikey vouched for you when your mom was still skeptical of the finished product. The relatives in agreement with him resulted in her giving up any further comments.
"(Y/N) could try making lumpia for their friends. And with how Mikey is helping them. They'll slowly get better at cooking!" Your grandma joked as you pretended not to sink below your chair.
A week later, at the lair, the three turtles often glancing back at the wrapped up uncooked spring rolls slowly beginning to stack a pile.
Donnie
"I know you said food or drinks aren't allowed at the lab but, I went out and got you halo-halo! To thank you for helping me with studying for the test next week."
"Halo-what-"
Donnie's eyes widen at the sight of the purple shaved ice dessert in a plastic cup. The spoon inside of the cup lid as he reached out now holding the drink in his hands.
"Is it actually purple or is it just the food dye that has purple in it?" Donnie said looking around the contents of the dessert while you laugh.
"I guess you never heard of ube aka purple yams. I had bread that used ube as filling. But, its been used in other pastries as well."
Donnie took a spoonful of the ube into his mouth and attempted to hide the smile on his face. But, savored the sweet treat with a light hum. He blinked noticing how he was the only one who got dessert.
"Wait, you didn't get one for yourself?" He asked as you lightly scratched your face.
"I only had enough money to buy one. And don't tell your brothers because I sort of waited when they went to the Run of the Mill pizzeria to get it. So..." You avoided eye contact finishing that sentence as Donnie got up from his seat.
"Well... Since you got me this refreshing dessert. I'm willing to let you take dibs for the first few slices of pizza. It will still apply to pineapple as well so no takebacks." Donnie immediately spotted at the grin slowly appearing on your face as you nodded.
Close to 45 minutes later, the turtles arrived back with the stack of pizza boxes. However...
"Hey, you two missed out on the limited time desserts they're giving out at the Run of the Mill pizzeria! We managed to get the last three while we waited in line. I forgot what it was called, something starting with two h's but, it has Donnie's favorite color-"
Donnie internally winced as you went to open the nearest pizza box. And took a slice without caring that it was one of your least favorite flavors. Mostly biting into the bread crust almost startling Mikey in the process.
[Note to self: repay back (Y/N) within this week with their favorite snack] (He does but both of you joke about that timing while taking a break from assignments)
#rottmnt x reader#leo x reader#raph x reader#mikey x reader#donnie x reader#I haven't written anything as of july 2023#I'm keeping my distance away from wattpad because it got really terrible to the point of burnout but#these silly guys got me through the hell that was 2019 so#I'm gonna try to put my writing here despite how this site is such a hater towards x reader writing#aside from that I'm slowly getting out of writer's block ; w ;#I'll make a post about rules later into next week so for now I hope you enjoy reading this :]
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Boy Meets World (TV 1993)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jack Hunter/Eric Matthews (Boy Meets World)
Characters: Jack Hunter, Eric Matthews (Boy Meets World)
Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, One Shot, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping
Summary:
Jack and Eric start sharing a bed. Now Jack can’t sleep.
fic for the jeric fandom because there’s like 10 of us left! enjoy :D
#i'm still working on my merlin fic but last night i couldn't get this out of my head so#here it is#jeric#boy meets world#bmw#boy meets world fic#jeric fic#jack hunter#eric matthews#fic#my fic#archive of our own#ao3#my post#i'm gonna do so badly in my SATs but at least i stopped having writer's block
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omg this shattered chapter is gonna be so long..................eep
#okay but I'M TRYING - THE WORDS JUST KEEP WORDING#spent so long trying to get out of a writers block and now my brain is giving me too many words??#boo hiss boo /j#shattered#vampire caretaker#bloodbag whumpee#captive whump#recovery fic
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