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What Flower Would You Be? [Sebastian x Reader]If life was a flower, perhaps it would be a rose. Red, fiery, passionate or white, innocent and pure.
But if you were a flower, what flower would you be?
Life, for most, is rather happy, short, unfulfilled. But in this, is a basket of memories that people will hold dear for years to come.
That, however, does not apply to you.
Like an artificial flower that refuses to wither, you are human in appearance… but you’ll never die.
Human… but not quite. A half-demon, actually.
Your life is a bit like a record on replay. The same events, over and over, through the ages.
People may dream of living for ever, but in actuality… It’s horror. Like a sad movie that never ends.
One day, a single woman offered out a hand, offering you a name, a home…
If only at that one time, you knew that that lady was the Queen of England, Queen Victoria.
And thanks to that single event, you’re here now.
“Welcome to the Phantomhive Manor, I am E
Kuroshitsuji: Seven Minutes in Heaven [Ciel]“I got…” You look at the number, wondering who you were paired with. “Who got number three?”
Ciel walks forward, looking less than pleased with the game. “It seems that I will be your partner.”
You smile, curtsying. “It would be my pleasure, Earl Ciel Phantomhive.”
Though only faint, you hear it.
“We’ll be outside, okay?” You call over to Lizzy, and she nods, waving back. “C’mon Sebastian, Bard…” You are ready to call the others but…
They’ve already gone.
“Well then, little Phantomhive, Truth or Dare?” You walk out, to be greeted by more gunshots.
The sound of metal on metal fills your ears, and you smile, turning to face Ciel. “Let’s go.” You haul him over your shoulder, jumping high enough until you see Mei Rin, smiling at the sight of her master.
“Here’s your question.” You smile, knowing that perhaps, this isn’t t
Kuroshituji: Seven Minutes in Heaven [Snake]With a hiss of a snake, you don’t even look at your number. “Snake, are we partners?” You show him the sweet, not looking at the number yourself.
“Yes, it seems we are. Says Emily.”
You smile, looking at the snakes, their eyes seemingly looking at you. “It’s been a while hasn’t it? Emily, Goethe, Oscar, Wilde, Webster, Bronte, Dan, Keats and of course, Snake. It’s a shame we haven’t spoken more sooner. Shall we?”
Though it isn’t completely obvious, you get the feeling that Snake’s quite happy that you remember his snakes’ names. “This room?”
The both of you enter, shutting the door behind you. Nothing is inside, a single window filling the room.
“You can go first.” You say. “Truth or dare?”
Snake spends a moment, listening to the varying opinions of the snakes, until he says “truth. Says Wilde.”
“Then, here’s my question: why don’t you sp
Kuroshitsuji Seven Minutes in Heaven: Undertaker Disclaimer: As per usual, I don’t own Kuroshitsuji. I know, it really is a shame.
You look at the sweet you had picked out, wondering who got the same number as you. “Ah, Undertaker, you got…”
After looking at the number, and double checking, you smile. “It seems that we’re a pair.” Though slightly perplexed, not quite sure how to act in this situation, you smile.
But of course, this game, like all others, seems rather boring to a half-demon.
Yet, the Undertaker smiles his usual smile, nibbling on a dog shaped biscuit.
“I’ve always wondered why the biscuit is shaped like that.”
The two of you walk off into the room, and the Undertaker explains the reason behind it. “It makes it taste better if it looks like this. It also stops anyone from taking them from me.”
You stop, as you arrive in the room, a single piece of furniture inside. A double sized coffin.
“Quite befitting, considering you’ll nev
Kuroshitsuji: Seven Minutes in Heaven [Sebastian] I don't own Kuroshitsuji.
“I’ve picked number 1.” You announce, looking around.
Sebastian smiles, walking up to you. “It seems that I will be your partner today, My Lady.”
You smile. “Ironic, isn’t it?” You mutter the words, but keep on smiling.
Looking to Elizabeth, you smile, calling out to her. “Lizzy, we’ll play the game in another room, if it is alright?”
With a nod, you leave, grabbing Sebastian by the arm, leading him into an unknown room.
Inside is a single chair and a little coffee table, a window being the source of light.
“Ladies first” Sebastian smiles. “Truth or dare, My Lady?” He asks you the simple question, and you think for a moment.
“Truth” is your reply.
His eyes solely on you, you smile, no showing any other emotion. “Then, My Lady, this is my question, what is it that you are most afraid of?”
You meet his gaze, for just a moment, but look away,
Kuroshitsuji Seven Minutes in Heaven [Intro] Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji. And also, due to me writing other things, the updates may be slow.... Or I might just start writing like a maniac and update really quickly. It all depends on sugar intake...
[A/N: I will be considering writing these for other fandoms as well. So, if you want a specific character from a specific character commission me! ^_^ (Shameless self advertisement...]
All is well in the Phantomhive manor… is what I’d like to say, but with Lizzy stood proudly, giggling, you find it rather worrying. “Shall we all play a game?”
Everyone in the grand hall gives an intrigued look, and you also nod, smiling. “What is this game called?”
“True or Dare! Apparently, it is quite common, and so, let’s play!”
No one says a word. Apart from you, tearing the silence apart with a single sentence.
“How do we play this game?”
All eyes on Elizabeth, she smiles, looking you in the eyes. “You get in
Confined: Part Three [Sebastian x Reader] Disclaimer: I don’t own Kuroshitsuji… Shame, I know. I also don’t own you (in case you didn’t know that…)
Let me take you back to the rainy Tuesday, the day that we first met.
What happened on that day?
I have mentioned this once before, but let me repeat my words.
‘As the rain thuds down on all in sight, a man
with long hair and a hat comes across, hauling your limp body over his shoulder.’
“Where?” You whispered the words, looking in the room around you. “Who?”
Despite looking around the room as you said the same questions over and over again, you receive no response. But as you sat up, looking the man, right into his eyes, you asked once more.
“Who am I?”
He smiled down on you, his eyes meeting yours, as he touched your face as though you were a fragile doll that was about to break.
“You are my Daughter.” Was the reply. “You’re my hope.”
“Hope? Is that
Confined: Part Two [Sebastian x Reader][A/N Hi! A huge thanks to everyone who has favourite the story so far! I'd like to just echo the words I wrote on the Prologue. This Reader-Insert is written in the style of 'The Book Thief' which is also written from the viewpoint of death, though the plot and characters are completely different. I also highly recommend reading the Prologue (if you haven't already, since it does clear some things that could otherwise be confusing.]
Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji... Unfortunately...
Lights flicker, as you look up at the person who summoned you. Though, they look back they look through you, seemingly well aware that I’m watching.
A little about me:
Though it may be an exciting part,
I wish to exchange a little bit of information about myself.
I am a cluster, a tornado, a natural disaster.
I am death.
My eyes, my voice, my very existence is filled with death.
Do not be wary, do not be afraid
I will come in due time.
I may leave you with more questions than y
Confined: Part One [Sebastian x Reader]Disclaimer: I don’t own Kuroshitsuji, unfortunately. I also don’t own you, in case you didn’t already know.
A rather trivial thought:
Fate is like water,
one drop of it can make its surroundings ripple.
Did you know, that out of everything the world has, and will create, I think words are the most powerful weapon?
With just some simple words, the world can stop. Carriages come to a standstill, everyone’s eyes a handful of people.
“Halt! We’ll shoot anyone who moves!”
Guns held high, each of them pointing their weapons at different people. With masks covering their faces’, despair apparent on each of them. Pure despair.
Though, I found something far more interesting than these thugs: Ciel Phantomhive and his Butler. As the sky went from the beautiful turquoise to a chartreuse colour, I sighed.
After all, someone did something that changed fate itself. Today was no longer a good day.
Hand on metal, seven gunshots went off.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Will you still be there?When friendship fails,
and blood turns deep,
will you be there?
be there for me?
When tears fall down,
and insults are shouted,
will you be there,
be there with me?
As my friend wages war,
with all on her side,
will you be there,
be there for me?
As the pots break,
and jars are broken,
will you be there to pick up the pieces?
Because the pots are my heart,
the jars being my emotions,
but will you still be there?
Be there to help me.
As thunder cracks,
we turn our own our tide,
please still be there
be there for me.
When our worlds split in two,
divided by hate,
will you stand there?
Stand there with me?
When the fight never ends,
and glory shan’t prevail,
will you still be there?
Crying for me?
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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