I can’t help but feel it’s a good thing Tikki has the earrings and Plagg has the ring because imagine if a holder didn’t have pierced ears. Tikki would walk them through piercing their ears or offer up an alternative like using the earrings as cuff links, whereas Plagg would just chase his new chosen around with a needle
Did this with number 1 from those post break up prompts I reblogged a few days back!
Character A is on their way to sell the engagement ring they once bough for Character B (but the never got to propose) when they run into Character B again.
Wolfstar of course :)
Sirius wished the universe had at least had the decency to make it a cloudy, dreary, possibly miserable but that might be taking it a bit far, day. If this was what it had led him too, it was the least it could do, really.
He stared at the blue sky through the small front window of James and Lily’s flat, then back down at the small, velvet box in his hand. His thumb was poised to open it, nail in the soft crease between the top and bottom… and he couldn’t. He couldn’t. If he saw it again he’d never get rid of it. And it was of no use to him. Not anymore. He’d spent enough hours staring at it, the gold rim, the small inside engraving. It had promised him everything and, now that everything had been lost, it was just a heart breaking reminder. It was worthless. He knew this. But he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see it sitting there, cold in the box still. It should be with him. A sudden image of Remus kissing him, palms to his cheeks, and feeling the cool pressure of the ring on his left flooded through his mind. He pushed it away with difficulty.
He shoved the box into his pocket, grabbing a jumper from the back of the couch and pulling it roughly over his head while calling to James.
“Okay!” A beat, and then, “Actually, wait, wait!”
Sirius turned from the direction of the door as James appeared in the kitchen doorway, tea in hand. His other rubbed the back of his neck.
“Are you, um…” He coughed, eyes flicking down to Sirius’ hands, searching, “Are you going…”
“Yeah.” Sirius said too quickly. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, and?”
James shook his head a little, shrugging and bringing his tea to his lips, “Nothing. Nothing, alright. Right…”
He shuffled his feet a little and Sirius rolled his eyes, “I’m fine,” He definitely wasn’t fine, “I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?”
James didn’t look any more at ease but he nodded, “Yeah.”
The day felt just as nice as it looked and Sirius scowled at the sun, defiantly putting his hood up and his head down.
The feeling of the box knocking against his thigh with every step was excruciating, a constant reminder of what he was about to do.
It should be with him.
His feet felt heavier with every step, every bump, and he found himself staring at the lump in his pocket. He clenched his fists tighter and tighter at his sides until his nails felt like pin pricks and the box felt like a scorching iron across his skin.
“Fucking hell-“ He dug it out of his pocket roughly, just as he collided with something— someone. Sirius’ head knocked right into a rather bony shoulder making his swear again, only to have the word mix with another curse.
“Shit, sorry, didn’t see.. you.. oh.”
Sirius’ heart started thrumming painfully in his chest. Remus straightened up in front of him.
Sirius went straight back to cursing the universe. Not now. God, please not today.
Sirius just stood there, unable to open his mouth. Remus looked… thin. His hair fell in messy curls over his forehead, as apposed to the usual neat swoop to the side. Really, Sirius couldn’t stop looking at his eyes. They were rimmed with soft purple, and as golden as ever. He thought he might drop to his knees, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, under the weight of the sheer longing that was coating his heart.
Remus opened and closed his mouth a few times before, “It’s a bit hot for a hood.”
Sirius blinked because what? “Wh- What?”
Remus’ cheeks flushed, “I- I don’t know why I said that. But- I- don’t you think?”
Sirius stared a moment more, then slowly raised his hand, swiping his hood from his head, “Right. The sun was just feeling a bit too…” He shook his head, still caught too off guard by how—normal—this conversation sounded.
Remus just nodded distractedly, eyes suddenly not on Sirius’, but trained on Sirius’ hand that was still resting on Sirius’ shoulder from removing his hood. He looked uneasy, panicked even.
Sirius watched as he swallowed thickly, voice coming out horse, “Meeting someone?”
Sirius knit his brows, cocking his head slightly at the sudden question, and the look crossing Remus’ face. How could I be meeting someone when that look is out there somewhere needing someone to kiss it away?
“No. ‘m not, why?”
When Remus’ eyes didn’t move to his, Sirius followed his gaze. His stomach dropped at what he found on the other end. The small, velvet box was still grasped in his hand. In plain sight.
“I- Oh. Fuck, no-” He realized what this must look like to Remus and it only made his heart tighten further. The mere thought that Remus could have it in his head that Sirius would ever, ever be with anyone else right now drove a knife in and twisted it, “No, Re- Remus,” Sirius corrected himself quickly at the way Remus winced.
“It’s fine.” Remus mumbled, “I- I don’t know why I asked. I guess I just…” He trailed off, “Dunno.”
Sirius’ mind whirled, desperately trying to find some lie to tell. He definitely wasn’t about to give Remus the truth, not with the way he wouldn’t even look at him.
“I- This is- I mean, I bought this for— these.” He corrected himself as a thought formed in his head, “I’m going to sell. This is- these are… cuff links. For James’ birthday. He- He didn’t like them.”
Remus’s eyes, which had still been fixed on the box, found Sirius’, “Oh.”
Sirius, gripped the box tightly in his palms, thumb, out of habit, wedging the opening but unwilling to follow through, “Y-Yeah.”
Remus’s expression suddenly changed. His eyes shifted from glazed over, and seemed to fill with a flicker of… something.
“Sirius…” Remus took a step forward.
Sirius’ eyes nearly closed at the way Remus said his name. Like he used to.
“Yeah…” Sirius breathed.
Remus’ eyes flit over his face as he stares down at him, “James’ birthday is in March.”
“I..” Fuck. “Yeah. It is.”
Sirius closed his eyes, taking in the close proximity of Remus’ presence and being silently furious with himself at the same time, “Yeah.” He sighed, defeated, “It is.”
Remus’ voice came out soft, “Can I see?”
Sirius’ eyes flashed back to the pools of bronze, panicked, “They’re really not much. Pretty plain. I mean-“ You never saw it. You didn’t want it. “They aren’t- It doesn’t really matter. He didn’t want them.”
Remus cocked his head, “How do you know?”
“Because he kind left before I could give them to y- him.” Sirius sighed, feeling heat bubble in his chest. He wasn’t sure what emotion it was, there were too many flowing through him.
Remus’ brow furrowed, “Well if you had stopped him maybe you could have foundout. Let me see.”
Sirius flushed. They definitely weren’t talking about James anymore. “How was I suppose to know he wanted to be stopped?”
“Of course I wanted to be stopped!”
The silence that followed left what little space there was between them now heavy with Remus’ words. They were both breathing hard. Remus’ hand had somehow made its way over Sirius’ on the box. Sirius was burning at the touch.
Remus closed his eyes, letting a breath out through his nose, “Of course I wanted to be stopped.” He repeated.
Sirius stared at him, the crease between his eyebrows, the frown on his mouth, the tightness of his jaw. He swallowed hard, voice coming out shaky, “You can’t expect me to know that, that’s- that isn’t fair. You were so.. You were so angry with me, I thought-”
Remus opened his eyes, fixing them on the ground. The sun cast eyelash shadows on his cheeks. He looked more tired and thin than he had when they started. He shook his head, “No, it isn’t fair.”
Sirius’ heart tugged when Remus let his hand slip away.
Remus still wouldn’t look at him, “‘m sorry, I… I don’t know.”
He turned, carefully avoiding brushing against Sirius again, and started to walk away. Sirius reeled at the loss of contact, the sudden empty space in front of him. He was thrown back in time, standing in their old flat. He was staring into Remus’ tear stricken face one moment and was hearing the door slam the next. There was a velvet box in his pocket and he was very, very alone.
Not again. He decided. Not again.
Sirius turned at the same time Remus did, eyes meeting. He was sure his looked wild. Remus’ looked just as untamed. He tried to slow his breathing, fingers tightening around the box.
He took a step forward.
“It isn’t cufflinks.”
Remus let out a breath, “No?”
“No.” He took another step, slowly closing the distance between them, “It’s-“ His eyes flitted over Remus’ face, hating ever worry marked there, every frown, each tired rim around his eyes, “God. It’s what I should have stopped you with.”
“You couldn’t have known-“
“I should have known.” He took the final step, thumb finally flicking the box open, “I should have let you know how much I…” He didn’t look down at the ring. Instead, he watched Remus’ eyes widen, he watched his lips part. He watched what he had wished he had watched for months. What he could watch for years. Remus’ eyes went back to his and they were glassy. He looked so tired. Sirius needed to fix it.
“Re..” Remus’ brows knit, eyes shutting at the nickname. He let out a soft noise when he felt Sirius’ hand on his cheek, holding him together.
“Re, I should’ve know. I- I know now, okay?” He ducked his head a little, desperately needed Remus to look at him, “Please, Re-“
But Remus was kissing him, hands on Sirius’ cheeks, a few tears on his own. And Sirius was melting, nearly dropping the box, the ring, as his arms made their way around Remus’ waist.
He closed the box as he kissed Remus. He had a lifetime to give him that ring. He needed this now, they needed this now. He slipped it into Remus’ back pocket, causing him to let out a watery laugh against his lips, and smiled as he wound his fingers in Remus’ hair, pulling their mouths back together.
And with Remus against him, laughing into his kiss, Sirius thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad the sun was out today after all.
A detective reviews the massive amount of evidence and trophies recovered from the house of serial killer John Wayne Gacy. Many of the pieces you see here are his victims’ cuff-links, necklaces and other personal belongings.
Summary: At a cast party, your favorite song starts playing and you ask your best friend Jensen if he’ll dance with you.
Word Count: 995
Warnings: this might give you a cavity, drunk!Jared, cursing
A/N: Written for @wayward-mirage‘s Rat Pack Challenge! Sorry it’s past the deadline, I really suck.
“You almost ready?” Jensen called from the
living room as he buttoned up his cuff links.
You hummed and stepped into the hallway, black
heels clicking on hardwood floors. Jensen looked up from his task, his eyebrows
You look… amazing.” He coughed and stood,
meeting you by the door.
He helped you into your jacket as you blushed,
unsure of how to respond to his compliment. Opening the door for you, the two
of you made your way to the cast party to celebrate the 300th episode of
“There they are!” Jared’s voice boomed toward
you, followed closely by his hulking figure.
“Hey Jare, few drinks deep already, huh?” You
chuckled and adjusted his bowtie for him.
“Been waiting for you two! What took so long?
Some pre-party fuckin’?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I just want to write more anxious!Tony and explore his mental illness more and I want to add sensory-overload and people actually fucking supporting him instead of the clusterfuck that is the MCU. I’m gonna throw this snippet at you and see what happens.
Edit: I just read up on Sensory Processing Disorder and EVERYTHING DESCRIBES TONY WHAT THE FUCK I’M CONSIDERING IT CANON.
“These are time-sensitive,” Pepper said, opening the folder so he could see the contracts inside. She watched Tony’s eyes track over the paper before she turned to the next page for him. “Can I leave these with you if I spread them out on the desk?”
“…Yes,” Tony decided.
“Alright.” She spread the pages out over his desk. “I need to go send some faxes. Will you be okay?”
Tony stared at the pages. “…Yes.”
Pepper turned to leave, pausing at the door. “If you have trouble, just call me.”
“I will,” Tony said, nodding. He waited for her to leave before he stuck his tongue out at the paperwork.
He read everything over and decided they were all worth signing. Unfortunate. He grabbed a pen, hand hovering over the first contract, then let out a frustrated sound and began pacing his office.
Pepper found him still pacing. “Do you need me to hold your hand?”
“No,” Tony answered immediately. “I can do it!”
“I never said you couldn’t do it. I asked if you wanted me to hold your hand.”
“Well I don’t!” Tony snapped, turning, hand hovering over the contract. After a moment, he finally pressed pen to paper, carefully keeping his hand above it.
Pepper reached out to put a hand on the paper so it wouldn’t move when he signed it. “Where are your gloves?”
“They’re–I was using them–I don’t know,” he admitted, ashamed.
“That’s fine,” she said, not accusing. “I’ll make you another pair.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Pepper reached toward him, hand hovering over his shoulder for a moment before she actually set it down. “It’s fine. I just wish you’d told me.” She began collecting the contracts before he could say anything else. “It’s fine. I’ll make them while I catch up on Desperate Housewives.”
Tony frowned, uncertain. “Okay.”
“Right? Okay.” She smiled at him. “I think we’re done here for the day.”
Tony blinked at her, then hesitantly walked around his desk, just waiting for her to say ‘oh, I forgot!’ When she didn’t, he managed an awkward but sincere smile and walked past her.
Pepper looked through the contracts one last time, frowning a little. She wished she could forge his signature.
Natalie tried to hand him a sheaf of papers.
Tony skittered away, tugging his pocket square from his jacket and beginning to rub it with his thumbs anxiously. “No thank you.”
Natalie stared at him, looking the closest to confused that he’d ever seen her. “That… that wasn’t a request.”
“I’ll take those,” Pepper said pleasantly, taking the sheaf of papers from her hands. She looked through them. “Patent paperwork.”
“Oh,” Tony said, still rubbing his pocket square.
“Not necessarily as time-sensitive, but you definitely need to sign them.”
Pepper glanced up at him. “It’s not inappropriate to be startled, Tony.” She looked at Natasha. “Tony needs to know you’re there, and he doesn’t like to be handed things.” She gave Natalie a quietly dangerous look, daring her to say something.
“…I can do that,” Natalie said after a moment. She noticed Tony’s shoulders relaxing and didn’t raise an eyebrow, instead adding, “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Don’t be afraid to tell Tony if he’s standing too close to you,” Pepper answered immediately, then turned to raise an eyebrow at Tony.
Tony flushed and looked down at his feet. “Don’t wear strong perfume. Or. Uh. Perfume at all? Um, and I don’t like to stand in large groups. And I–when I request a certain food, I’m not–I need that food. I’m not–I’m not picky. It’s the texture.”
“The… texture,” Natalie repeated slowly, eyes flicking down to the silk pocket square in his hands. “Okay. I can work with that.”
“And he has special gloves if you have any time-sensitive paperwork,” Pepper added.
“Okay,” Natalie said again, nodding. “I can make this work.” She couldn’t help but swallow thickly when Tony looked incredibly grateful, and she wondered how many times his needs had been ignored.
Natasha felt awful when she stuck him in the neck. She felt worse when he looked up at her, betrayed, and visibly closed off.
“You said I was a narcissist,” Tony said accusingly.
Natasha did not flinch, but only because she’d been trained not to. “How did you get in my room?”
“A textbook narcissist, even.”
“…I decided,” she said after a moment of thought. “That SHIELD didn’t need to know about your disorder.”
Tony stared at her for a long moment. “So you lied instead.”
“I wouldn’t have been approved for this initiative anyway, would I? Because I’m–I’m a mess?”
Natasha opened her mouth, then shut it again, tilting her head thoughtfully. “…You function,” she finally decided on. “Better than most people in your position would. And you seem to do well in the suit when you’re not dying. I wrote that evaluation under certain circumstances, and I wrote it to say the things people wanted to hear. How much it is true or false now doesn’t matter.”
Tony fidgeted with his cuff links, swaying a little where he stood. “…I’m still mad,” he finally decided.
“I’m leaving now.”
“Do you need me to walk you out of the building?”
Tony’s fidgeting grew. “…What’s the alarm for?”
Natasha could not hear an alarm, but she believed him. “I have no idea,” she admitted honestly. “I have earplugs. Would you like them?”
“…Yes,” he answered meekly.
Natasha didn’t say he was weak, because he wasn’t. And she didn’t say he could do better, because he was already doing his best. Instead she set the earplugs on her bedside table and let him pick them up, then waited for him to put them in before she led him out of her apartment, not saying a word when his arm occasionally brushed hers.
“I need,” Tony began, then stopped, clutching his sleeves.
Jim sat up with a snort, still somewhat bleary-eyed. “What? What do you need?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Tony said guiltily.
“I was on the couch, it’s fine.” Jim rubbed his eyes before looking up at him. “What do you need?”
Tony looked down at his feet. “I’m tired. …’nd sad.”
“Aw, Tones,” Jim cooed, immediately holding his arms out. “C’mere.”
Tony shuffled around him, anxious, then held out a robe. “Here.”
Jim pulled the robe on over his arms, spreading the rest of it over his body, then held his arms out again. The brunet touched the robe cautiously, and only then crawled into his lap. “I’m glad you know you can come to me, Tones. Wanna sleep?”
“It’s too loud,” Tony admitted, curling his fingers in the soft material of the robe.
“In your head, or out?”
“Okay,” Jim said, because he could work with that. “You got your earplugs in?”
He began rubbing a soothing hand up and down Tony’s spine. “Great. I’m gonna recite pi as far as I can and if you’re not asleep by then I’m gonna start reciting every component of an F-16′s motor.”
Tony was asleep just after the one hundred and forty-third number of pi. Jim was glad, because he’d only memorized the first one hundred and fifty.
Fresh laundry. Hot dogs for dinner. Cold pizza for breakfast. A really good haircut. A joke so funny that you cry. New shoes. The CRACK! of a baseball on a wooden bat. FOMO. Peppermint chewing gum. Runner's high. Your first crush.
Pine trees. Cold dew on a summer morning. MRE's that don't taste like paper pulp. Cornfields as far as the eye can see. Screaming at the sky late at night. Turkey with stuffing. White bread in a plastic sleeve. Getting gum on your shoes.
Scented candles and burnt popcorn. Fresh-cut daisies. Drawing with charcoal. Sun bleached bones. The smell of gasoline. Gel pens. Your favorite animated movie. The scapegoat. Not caring at all.
Butterscotch and sulfur. Rolling meadows of grass. Sand in your shoes. Fried fish in a greasy newspaper. Fireworks on a warm summer evening. Wool turtleneck sweaters. Being double-dog-dared to swim in the lake during winter. The best hole-in-the-wall pub in the world.
Dusty old books. Creaking floorboards. Fresh winter snow. A really good sandwich. Finding a new favorite novel. A handmade scarf. Getting a good grade on an assignment. First editions. Going to the natural history museum. Firmly believing why you were put on this earth.
Breakfast foods. Campfires. The satisfying clicking of clockwork machinery. Reading bedtime stories aloud. T-shirts with math jokes on them. Tuning a guitar. Petting zoos. Knowing your limits. Learning about something that makes you really happy. A cool looking rock.
Antiseptic. Down comforters. Really round fluffy birds. Bad puns. Doing things because you can. Hot tea. Waking up before the sun does. Whistling. Dry cleaning. Fun facts about animals. Really strange nonfiction books. Windy winter days.
Dirt and black coffee. Climbing a tree. People watching. Road trips. Going to bed and realizing you haven't spoken to anyone all day. Fairy bread. Getting caught in the rain. Really cool scars. Having a story for everything. Polarized lenses.
Vermouth and tobacco. Minimalist cuff links. Playing cards. Hair pomade. Silk ties. Your first love. A passing feeling of emptiness. Heels clicking on polished floors. Crusty dinner rolls with soft warm bread on the inside.
Lavender hand soap. Gunpowder. Lilac polo shirts. Worn black denim. Staying up late and watching the home shopping channel because you can't sleep. Beat-up firearms catalogs. Telling your mother to return your birthday gift because your workplace has strict dress codes regarding clothing colors, even though you desperately need that new skirt. Finding drawings from when you were a child. Soft wool cardigans. Shiny silver knives. Yogurt with fruit. Hating and loving your job at the same time.
Any jewelry – a ring, pendant, locket, cuff link, tie tack, bracelet – can be transformed into an amulet. Ideally, the article of jewelry should contain iron, gold, (preferably) a black gemstone such as obsidian, jet, or onyx, or contain a protective symbol such as a pentagram.
Whatever is chosen, cleanse it with blessed salt water, then clean water, and thoroughly dry it before consecrating.
chosen article of jewelry
protective sigil drawn on paper
cup of salt water
pin or needle
athame or wand (optional)
Cast a circle (optional).
Carve a pentagram into the black candle with a needle or pin. After carving, anoint the candle with the protection oil from both ends to the middle, and place it in a holder in your work space.
In front of the candle, set the jewelry on the sigil. Place the cup of salt water to the left, and the censer of burning incense to the right. Anoint your wrists, forehead, and the back of your neck with the protection oil. Light the candle.
If you have a wand or athame, point it at the jewelry; otherwise, use the index finger of your dominant / projective hand. As you do this, send and visualize energy being absorbed into the jewelry, both from you and from the sigil underneath.
Say the following to seal the spell:
Sigil of power, ignite this spell, Protective force this [jewelry] shall bear; Within this charm, energy swells, Keeping me safe whenever I wear.
Orb of security twice the length Of my outstretched arms – Radiate from this amulet And shield me from all harm!
Pick up the jewelry and anoint it with a bit of salt water. Hold it in the smoke of the incense, then pass it over the flame of the candle, to consecrate it in the four elements.
A/N: I WILL NEVER FUCKING EVER GET OVER THIS AU UGH
also highly inspired by this video and dedicated to my dear friend who is currently suffering from wisdom teeth pain bc i cant fucking wait til shes drunk of her ass bc of the meds cause i’ll be ready with the camera to make sure that shit goes down in history
“Oh shit, who are you?” His groggy voice croaks out.
You look up from your organization of the clothes you packed for him and your eyes widen when you see him come to. You rush to his side, leaning down to get a good look at him.
“Babe, are you feeling okay?“
He frowns, movements even slower than usual because of the anesthesia. His eyes rake over your features, eyebrows furrowing as he examines how your lashes flutter in confusion and your hair falling around him smells so damn good.
Could you do a fic where Sebastian (from Black Butler) is always hitting in the reader and making her flustered until she snaps and they kiss?
He was the devil.
That was the only explanation. It must have been for him to torture you so. He was the manifestation of the literal monster underneath your bed you’d thought you’d gotten rid of as a child. Your grim reaper, the skeletor come to claim your begotten soul-
You froze in the middle of the conversation you’d been having with Bard at the call of your name. That voice was unmistakable.
“Bard!” You hissed, the hairs on the back of your neck stiffly rising as if you were a frightened feline. The useless chef rose an eyebrow at your display, a wisp of smoke escaping his pale lips from the loosely held cigarette between them. “I wasn’t here!”
Bard blinked as you frantically glanced around the room for a hiding spot, your body twitching like you had been possessed. Time was running short and you finally settled on diving into the pantry, slamming the doors shut just as you heard his voice a second time.
“I’m sure you know who I’m looking for, yes?”
A nervous chuckle.
“Ah, Y/N? No I don’t know where she is - that is if you’re even searching for her anyways, though I don’t know why you would - but I can definitely tell you that she is not in here.”
You stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friend was a terrible liar, maybe even worse than his nonexistent cooking skills.
“I see. I must say, it would not hurt to look.”
When you had closed the pantry doors you had enclosed yourself into total darkness. This just made your other senses that much more sensitive, and you could feel your pulse racing as you registered movement outside. His footsteps were light, impossibly light - as if he were walking on air - but you could still hear the faint scuffle of his shoes on the kitchen floor. They were completely in time, sustaining a tempo you found to be ridiculously rhythmic for the simple act of walking.
The footfalls increasingly came closer to your shelter. If you listened hard enough, you swore you heard the chains dragging behind him, links and cuffs chinkling - your jailer - the drag of metal across the tile promising your inescapable future.
A moment of silence.
Another, and you sighed in relief.
Bright crimson eyes split through the darkness, then disappeared into that close-eyed smile you were all too familiar with.
“Ah, there you are.”
This was it. This was why you ran away from him the moment you even caught a glimpse of silken gloves, of all black. You liked to consider yourself a spitfire, a blistering ball of courage. A fierce personality that could take down anyone in your way with your bare fists. After all, you did have to have a talent to be on the young master’s staff.
“H-Hey t-there haha….w-were you looking for me?”
But the moment this guy’s eyes met yours you found yourself turning into a puddle.
Sebastian tilted his head, observing you, before he outstretched his hand.
“Indeed I was. I merely wished to tell you that the young master has requested your presence. Do you need assistance?”
You attempted to keep even a shred of your dignity and shook your head. “N-No that’s alright. I’ll b-be fine.”
You were quick to get up, maybe too quick. The close proximity of your bodies made it hard for you to find any space to maneuver yourself, and consequently you tripped over your own feet in the act.
Quicker than you could comprehend, Sebastian caught you, one hand wrapped around your wrist, the other pressing into the arch of your back to steady you against his chest.
You swear you heard angels singing in the distance.
“You should be more careful,” He spoke calmly, the smooth, deep baritone heard clearly in your ear.
You wondered if someone could die from being overly embarrassed, and if not, there was always a first for everything, right?
“No - I mean yes, I mean uh,” You were sure you were going to pass out in five point nine seconds. “I will.”
“Good,” He said, holding you for longer than necessary, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. The bastard, he knew exactly what he was doing to you!
Before you could jam your knee up into where the sun doesn’t shine, he let go, walking away like nothing had happened.
Your hands fisted, and you returned to normal as you fought off the sensation of your knees turning to jelly.
“That arrogant little-”
“- piece of crap!”
The duster in your grip nearly snapped in two as you brushed it violently against the surfaces of the porcelain statues in the glass case you had been admiring. It was only when you nearly knocked over all the precious figures in your anger that you moved on from them, stopping at the piano in the corner.
“Thinks he’s so great,” You continued to mutter underneath your breath, lifting the fall-board to lightly dust the black and white piano keys beneath the cover. “With his crazy reflexes and ridiculously flawless skin. Stupid fairy. Has the audacity to mess with me. The next time I see him I swear I’ll-”
A sound equivalent to that of a dying hyena emitted from your throat as you jumped almost fifteen feet into the air. If not for the buttons on your clothes, you were sure you would have escaped them as well. The duster went flying from your fingers, but it was not a surprise to you to see that the bane of your life had caught it as easily as one would swat a mosquito.
He shifted, his voice taking on that scolding tone he often used with hte rest of the staff that made them run with their tails behind their legs.
“Why, you did not quite finish your thought. You’d what?”
I’d take that tie of yours and shove it down your throat then hang you up by your coat tails you insufferable twat. See if you’d laugh then.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Was all you said instead. You’d chastise yourself later on your cowardice when the literal embodiment of perfection wasn’t standing three feet in front of you.
“I think you do,” He smiled again, but the expression did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, knowing him, it made them worse.
He took a step towards you.
Naturally, you took one back.
Then he took another.
You followed suit.
Another, and you turned to leg it out of there as quickly as possible.
Turns out you had been backing into the piano you’d been cleaning, and as such ran right into it. Within the time it took for you to register this, Sebastian was behind you, so close you could feel the collar of his suit brushing the back of your neck.
“I thought I told you to be more careful. You have a way with disobeying good advice.”
He pressed closer to you from behind and you leaned away, your hands flattening down into the piano keys and creating an unpleasant, chaotic series of sounds.
“It’s not like I do it on purpose.” Pest.
Sebastian hummed. “Somehow that doesn’t make it better. Will I have to punish you?”
You ignored the way your stomach turned to goo at that comment.
“You demon,” You mumbled bitterly.
The hand hovering by your waist landed, and you heard a faint sardonic chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”
He gave you no time to even dwell on that thought, twisting you around to face him. He dipped down even closer, and all you could see was the tunnel of red that was his eyes, sucking you in.
“H-Hey!” You lifted a hand to push at his chest but found that it only trapped you further. “Wait!”
Your cheeks burned brighter, breath hitching in your throat as his nose brushed yours. Close. He was so close you could count every eyelash framing that unnatural crimson gaze. You’d have thought you would be able to feel his breath but there was none? His skin was ice to the touch where it skimmed yours, a good contrast to how high your temperature was running at the moment.
You shut your eyes tight, waiting for something, anything.
Your eyes opened in confusion only to see that he had backed up, amusement dancing in his expression again.
“There,” He said simply.
“What?” Was your intelligent response.
He lifted the duster you’d forgotten he even had, pointing it towards a section on the piano, before placing it down. “You missed a spot; I fixed it. That was all.”
You resisted the urge to let your mouth fall open.
“Me?” He questioned innocently. A tsk left him. “Why, Y/N, were you perhaps expecting something else?”
You were speechless, the flush crawling up your neck and spreading across the apple of your cheeks now becoming uncomfortably hot. A splutter left you in anger, but you knew you couldn’t even argue.
“Now if you’d excuse me.” He walked away yet again, leaving you a mess. Before he was completely out of the doorway he paused. “Oh and before I forget, your punishment. An extra hour of helping Finnian in the gardens should suffice.”
The moment he left, the duster was flung into the wall, truly snapping in two this time as an enraged shout filled the air.
“I’m going to kill him!”
The spoon left the cup of ice-cream to land in your mouth.
You melted with a delighted hum around the metal on your tongue. Usually any and everything sweet in the household was used for the young master and him only, but you’d managed to be rewarded the rare delicacy that day on your lunch break.
You ate another scoop, stepping outside to enjoy the breeze. The sky was bluer than you’d ever seen it, and you sighed happily. Nothing could ruin your mood now.
Was that a cat?
You turned, only for the cheerful song playing in your mind to come to a sudden halt, like a record malfunctioning. There was a cat yes, but next to the kitty was a certain butler. Your first reaction was to run, or perhaps become one with the side wall of the mansion, but everything changed when you cleared your panicked thoughts to actually just look.
It was not one cat like you originally thought, but three that crowded around the man. His face was content, and you were shocked at the fact that he was letting the felines rub their heads into the palm of his hand, one of them merely curling up by his foot.
It was, dare you say, cute?
Nope. Nope, nope. You would not fall prey to his manipulative charms. You were stronger than that, a feared, respected member of the Phantomhive mansio-
Okay that cat just yawned and cuddled his shoe and you were gone.
“I didn’t take you for someone that would spy on others.”
You were knocked out of your fantasy by the words, and you took a startled step back. Sebastian’s focus was still on the affectionate kittens, but you knew he was talking to you.
“I am not!” You found you were quick to defend, and cleared your throat, calming. “I was only out here to enjoy the breeze. Don’t act like you own the garden, Sebastian.” You took another bite of your treat in defiance.
He lifted from his crouch, in front of you with only three long strides. You stayed rooted in your spot. He narrowed his eyes, as if looking at something, then nodded to himself. You could only stare as he removed one of his gloves, pinching the fabric in his teeth and pulling it clean off.
That was not needed. Why couldn’t he just take it off like a normal person?? Did he want you to faint??
“You’ve got something…right here.” He reached upwards to brush his thumb across the corner of your bottom lip. When he removed it, it came away with a pink, milky substance. It must have been a trick of the light, but his eyes seemed to flash the same colour as he slowly licked his thumb.
A smirk. “Delicious.”
In the distance, you think you heard something cracking, but maybe that was just the dam of restraint snapping within you.
It was as if you were watching yourself from outside your own body as you saw your hands reach out to grab his collar. The motions felt distant, detached when you yanked him down, but you were spun widely into control again once your lips connected harshly to his.
The cup fell to the floor, spilling its contents.
He froze, but you were not stopping, not now, and you took this rare chance to tangle your fingers in that soft mass of midnight hair you’d always wanted to touch. Heat seared your lips as you pulled yourself into him, forced his mouth open under yours, a long shiver rolling down your spine.
It was only when you felt him get over his initial shock and begin to respond - which must have taken what, four seconds? - that you disconnected.
“That,” you growled, chest heaving. “is for antagonizing me. Feel free to forget I ever did it, please do.”
With that you whipped around and stormed away, face red but your steps hard and infuriated. “And you owe me ice-cream!”
Sebastian’s eyes contracted into fuchsia slits, predatory excitement conflicting with another emotion that had him tightening his hold on his glove.
This was the first time he could honestly say in the last hundred years, that he had been made utterly, completely, surprised.
Prompt: Jungkook sacrifices you in exchange of true happiness. But it all comes down to one question, what really is true happiness in a world that was born out of a system who believes in soulmates?