Do You Still Take Request For Black Butler? If So Could I Rq Something With Sebastian Where His S/o (who

do you still take request for black butler? if so could i rq something with sebastian where his s/o (who is also a phantomhive servant) gets injured and/or almost drowns during the book of atlantic?

(i tried searching for rules on your page but couldn’t find any so feel free to ignore this if it goes against anything!)

Muddled Waters (Sebastian Michaelis x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗦𝗢 𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗧 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗜 𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗢𝗬 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝗼𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗰 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 (𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝘂𝘁𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟮 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛)

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you dozed off.

  Minutes? Maybe hours since you were last awake enough to answer a few questions. In all honestly, you doubt you can even remember what was asked you. You doubt you can even remember what you said in response. Were they asking about survivors? Or maybe the fallen? Perhaps a few questions about what happened in the last moments you were still on board. Or even a few inquiries about your Master. Or maybe, just maybe a question or two about your health. However poor it may be at the moment, you know you’re getting better. Slowly, but surely, you’re getting better. 

  Though it may have something to do with a certain distinguished butler with careful hands taking the utmost care of you at this moment.

  You don’t have to open your eyes to know that the individual hovering over you, neatly tying the bow on the front of the borrowed nightgown you’re dressed in is your Sebastion. You just know it’s him. Still, you fight against the sleepy lull that keeps threatening to pull you under once more to open your eyes and give your savior a small smile. 

  “Hi...” Your voice comes out in a harsh whisper that has him shushing you in an instant. And you don’t blame him. All that saltwater you must have swallowed throughout the course of the night is truly catching up to you. It burns your throat with any attempt to use your voice like no other. A sign of your survival sure, but your mind can’t help but wander to others’ perception of the ugly sound you have no other option but to produce for now. You must have sounded awful to him. To the others. It was so unlike yourself. “Sebastian, I…”

  Your mind stalls the minute his voice leaves your lips. What to say, what to say? What can you say at this point? Your head feels like it's full of clouds and your eyelids feel as heavy as stone. The nightgown covering your body is cool against your skin, still warm and tinted red from the bath Sebastian must have drawn for you. But your biggest enemy was no doubt the bed he has you laying on. The quilt beneath your body was incredibly soft. Perhaps even softer than your bed at the Phantomhive Manor- something you dare not say beyond the comfort of your own thoughts. You feel safe. It’s a welcomed change after all that you’ve been through last night. A thank you is in order. And you’d prefer for it to be sooner rather than later. But one look on your face is enough to convince you to delay your words of praise. 

  “Shh…” This time, the sound comes out firmer. An order from your senior. A request from your lover. Your lips part on instinctive, but there’s nothing for you to say. Not with him hovering over you, signs of wear and tear covering his gorgeous figure. He protected you and Master Ciel last night. He always protects you and Master Ciel, no matter what. The very least you could do was listen obediently and not cause him any more trouble. “Don’t speak now. Just rest. I’ll have something here for your throat soon enough.”

  Red eyes meet yours- so full of concern and care that it’s hard not to shiver when he takes the second away from dressing you to place his hand against your cheek. Despite your best efforts, embarrassment springs forth from the back of your mind. You’re filled with an overwhelming urge to hide yourself. You’re more capable than this. As a servant of the Phantomhive family, you know you’re more capable of this. But ever since the night started, you’ve felt like little more than a nuisance. 

  The last thing you can remember, was while you were still on the deck of the rescue ship. The one that had finally plucked you, Master Ciel, and Sebastian from the little lifeboat out in the middle of the ocean. At that point, you were fighting to stay conscious as you were carried in Sebastian’s arms. Always fading in and out against your wishes. The warmth of the sun’s beams proves to be an easy lullaby to your cold and tattered body. But the constant stream of voices in your ears and light on your face proved to be the opposite. Still, you couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything but listen when you could. Not being able to muster enough strength to stand on your own two feet or to think coherently is a humbling experience. A frightening one. And all it does is serve to remind you of the strength you just don’t have compared to the others around you. 

  Before that, you recall drawing into yourself as shivering to keep warm as Sebastian kills off the rest of the living corpses- mere seconds after pulling you from the freezing cold waters of the Atlantic. Minutes bled into hours. The gruesome show never stopped. The chill that overtook you came with a vengeance. A vengeance that took away any shred of assistance you could even offer in such a dangerous situation.

  Even now, you’re not completely sure of the details surrounding what happened after the three of you were thrown into the water. In fact, the only thing you could remember was the feeling of hitting the water and going down. Down, down, down, and not being able to tell which way is up. Thinking you were going to drown. Knowing you were going to drown. All until you felt arms circling your wasting and pulling you to the surface. 

  From there, the images in your head become a blurry mess. Master Ciel’s voice is laced through your memories. Just like the scent of rotting flesh and the sight of red-stained waters. Your mind races with the encounter you just had seconds before being through off the ship. Scientists that go too far. Reapers that fight with a laugh in their voice. The dead that find a way to walk and to bleed again just so they can die once more. Then Sebastian. Doing everything in his power to protect Master Ciel. To protect you. Including getting hurt. 

  Including getting hurt.

  “Sebastian!” His name tumbles out of your mouth clumsily as you sit up and make a mad dash for him. He’s quick to stop you from moving any further with a firm push to your shoulders. Still, the damage has already been done. You can’t focus on anything else. You can’t think of anything else. With your memories from last night slowly uncovering themselves, your attention zeros in on a dark red, ugly stain left on his torso. The place he was stabbed. “You’re…you’re injured!”

  “And you…” In a flash, his voice is dangerously close to your ear. Another shiver passes over you as his labored breaths brush over your skin. His tone was serious. A quiet type of fury only he held when he was frustrated while trying to keep his composure. You’ve seen it a few times. Directed at the other servants. Directed at those who proved to be a nuisance in the way of Master Ciel’s plans. Directed at those who set out to harm you. But to feel it- to feel it with every breath he takes, and to wonder where his anger lies. It’s a different story entirely. “You were very close to a grave last night. Too close. Too close.”

  A story that you’re not sure you want to hear at all.

  “I’m-” You start to say. His hands squeeze your shoulders once. Twice, as if to serve as a reminder that you’re still here with him, before traveling downward. It takes him little effort to lift you from the bed once his hands have found a suitable position. And even less of an effort as he holds you like a bride upon his lap. The servant in you can’t help but think of all the stains that might rub off just from close contact like this. But the human in you just sits there and breathes in the sight of a lover growing closer and closer until it’s impossible to part from each other. And even then, he grows closer. “I just…”

  An apology. An apology sits in your throat. An apology for getting in the way. For not being of more use. For making him vulnerable. Weak. For getting him hurt. But it dies right where it lies due to a silent killer. A kiss. Behind your ear. Then on the lobe. And on the cheek. The nose. The eyelids, the forehead, the chin, the jaw, the neck, the lips- everywhere. Quiet kisses that told you that the danger has passed. Quiet kisses that land on every tear that rolls down your cheeks. Quiet kisses that make you feel warm. Warmer than embrace he holds you in. 

  And the warmest you’ve felt since getting on this damned boat and sailing straight past hell. 

Hear me out,

Crowley building a statue of MC to represent how thankful he is for what they have done to help NRC once they go home because It’s pretty obvious that he’ll miss the prefect whom he saw as his child.

Then the ones who were close with the said prefect would flex on the people who questions about MC’s statue, saying that they were ‘close friends’ (Ace and Grim would definitely do that, maybe Epel and Deuce too eheheheh). Or maybe something more; developing romantic feelings that ends up getting reciprocated by the well-known prefect \(//∇//)\

Or not because there are hints that Malleus is going to put MC into a (possibly) long sleep in chapter 7 😭 (pretty scared of that but curious)

OR MC ends up staying in Twisted Wonderland ueueueuhehrheueu

2928 : ARMAGEDDON - 000

prev. next. wattpad.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒;

the gods. 

astra. ❝ goddess of the moon and the night.❞

•

cheryl. ❝ goddess of souls and love.❞

•

asya. ❝ the harbinger of discord.❞

•

lucius. ❝ god of the sun and the day.❞

•

natrix. ❝ god of the sea and depth.❞

•

aarush. ❝ god of fire and temper.❞

•

mystral. ❝ goddess of the wind and determination.❞

•

nunzia. ❝ messenger of the realm.❞

The god of sleep has no dreams of his own. When Hypnos sleeps, it grants him the opportunity of visiting those of others, drifting along as on a gentle river. It’s comforting. Shards and glimpses of lives that aren’t his own, of people and places that won’t ever mean the same to him, the visions indirectly threaded by his fingers. There are far too many dreams for him to make, which is why most aren’t. He brings them to sleep, and their bodies do most of the work.

Regardless, it is his domain. Every mortal needs to sleep, whether they like it or not, which makes him an inevitable part of their life. A third of every human’s day rests in his hands. As payment, all he wants to do is observe, to be in their company. (Hypnos likes humans. They don’t notice him in sleep, or worship him in their days, but he doesn’t mind. It’s easier to handle being ignored when it’s not their choice, when it’s impossible for them to notice him, rather than his mom’s cold eyes passing through him like he’s a sliver of mist.

At least when he’s among the dreams of the living, he’s less alone. There’s no judgement, but no praise either.) With how many mortals and dreams there are to go around, it’s rare for him to visit more than once. Though it’s much rarer for anyone to take note of him. Most people aren’t aware they’re dreaming while doing so, being swept along by their dreams instead of having control, but you’re not one of those. You’re blessed with lucidity, morphing bits and pieces of the experience as you go. Most importantly…

You see him. You laugh. “Well, I didn’t think I was lonely enough to make up some guy to keep me company… Guess you learn something new every day!”

In one motion, you pinch his chin between your fingers and pull his face towards yours. He lets out a surprised noise, at the fact you can touch him in the first place, and the movement itself. And it’s a high and squeaky sound, one that makes him want to curl up in his blanket and slip from this dream to the next. You make no comment on it, only smiling wider.

“Ooooh, your eyes are golden! So pretty… Glad my subconsciousness has good taste, at least.” You add the last part to yourself, laughing again.

You don’t think he’s real, just some made up character of your dream. It’s no surprise you aren’t aware that you can’t dream about someone you’ve never seen before. For now, he’s glad to have you believe that. It’d be more humiliating if you knew a god was making such a fool out of himself, heat rising to his face. His tongue is limp in his mouth. When was the last time someone called him pretty? Had anyone ever called him that, and touched him so carelessly? You save him from the burden of speaking up first.

“What’s your name? Do you have one?”

He hesitates. If you knew who he was, you wouldn’t treat him the same anymore. “I don’t! But, um-!“

Hypnos knows and accepts what others think of him, knows that he’s no good at his job or much else, but if there’s one thing he would excel in, it would be here. He straightens his back a bit from its usual slouch, the tips of his feet grazing the ground as he floats. “I’m here to make sure you’re going to have a grand old time, you know? I know aaaall about having fun in dreams! Why, you could call me an expert! At your service.”

He does this stupid little bow, and immediately regrets it. You laugh, but not at him, and people don’t usually find him this entertaining, he thinks, and if you keep this up, it will become one of his favourite sounds.

“Alright, mister dream expert,” You say with a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

He helps you float like he does, and assists you at conjuring up whatever idea pops into your brain. Hypnos expected you , but that’s not all you do. You try to ask him questions about himself, even if you supposedly don’t think he’s real, and you actually listen. And when you tell him about yourself in return, he does the same. It’s fun, he’s having a good time, and he’s disappointed when he’s jolted awake because of someone walking too close past him. He’ll have to apologise for suddenly disappearing next time. (Next time? Does he want there to be a next time?)

Hypnos makes a habit out of visiting you. You’re not always aware you’re asleep, sometimes your dreams are the same as any other human’s. He savours those days too, at the insights into your life it offers him. However, it’s most enjoyable when you look at him with bright eyes and talk to him, and laugh at things he says and joke around at this side. There’s a warm tightness in his chest around you, he’s happy, he is, but also impossibly nervous to mess up and have your smile turn into a sneer. It’s surprising you even still want to be around him, if past experience is anything to go by, he isn’t any good at not annoying people. But you’re different. You haven’t insulted him at any point, either! You must really be some blessing.

Hypnos thinks he likes you. A lot. He’s never thought of it before, whether this is allowed or not. Never considered the possibility of forming a close bond through dreams. Hypnos decides that it is, and who would he even ask, isn’t he the deity of sleep? He’ll make his own rules, number one being that it’s totally a-okay to have dream friends! That you visit and think about all the time and spend all your time thinking up new fun ideas for! And sometimes you scratch their name into the margins of your lists while zoning out! He’s getting off track. (And, well, this all seems more like a problem exclusive to him…) What he wants most is to have you down here with him, to touch you and feel something, to have you around while you’re awake and asleep.

But to do that… It would be an offense to all sacred rules to meddle directly with the path the Fates had set out for you. Perhaps they’ll have some mercy on him for being family. Either way, he’s going to falsify your cause of death in the records. He’s tired of being a bystander in your life. Hypnos doubts whether you can even remember him when you wake up. He isn’t exhausted in his normal way however, it’s no tugging at his eyelids or yawns hidden behind an open palm. This hurts. It’s an ache, an empty hole beyond his ribs. Your warmth needs to fill it, he’s sure. He wouldn’t be able to stand and watch as your life blossomed, how you would inevitably love someone else, be happy and forget about him all together. (It’s unfair. He’s never had anyone that wanted be anything of his. Not a friend, not family, not a lover. And now you’re here, the first to not see him as a disgrace, and now he should let himself be stopped by some old rules?) Because compared to what someone right there with you could give, what did he have to offer? If he believed everyone else, he had nothing of worth to give anyone. All he had was this love, what he thinks is love. But you laugh with him, you seem happy, and what he knows of human life is suffering. So many terrible deaths, so many unresolved emotions, so many wishes that never came to be.

Hypnos could save you from it all. You would never have to worry about anything again. But he knows how much humans fear death: It’s reflected so often in their worst nightmares, after all. The last thing he wants to do is scare you.. How surprised you’ll be at suddenly finding out he’s real, not just a figment of imagination!

He’s giddy. The two of you could have be together forever! (And if you didn’t love him back, why would you smile at him like that? Why did you always say you were happy to see him return? He has neither experience in friendships or relationships, but he shares those sentiments, so you must love him too. Otherwise… He doesn’t want to think about it .)

So he visits you. Hypnos floats above your bed, watching down upon you. He caresses your face as you rest, watching you through lidded eyes. You called him it first, but you’re pretty too. He doesn’t care about your hair being a mess, or the dried drool on your chin, or how you lay in a weird position, legs and blanket all tangled up. Your soft breaths are adorable, and he wants to coo at you, to make your face turn warm instead of his.

The thought of his brother seeing you and taking your soul makes him uncomfortable, he wants this vision of you to be only his.

Your eyes crack open with a little groan and before you have the chance to struggle or cry out, he presses a kiss against your forehead, forcing some of his raw power into your frail, mortal body.

It shouldn’t hurt. He asked. Your form was never meant to take godly powers, it’s too overwhelming, destroying you from within, and you go limp within a second. It’s like you fell asleep. A sleep so deep you will never awaken again. (i know hypnos doesn’t govern dreams his sons do but i had an Idea,, hope u enjoyed!!)

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(THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE OH MY GOSH!!!!! You’re so talented, this is written so beautifully, it’s amazing!!!!

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO POST!!! I’ve had a busy past few days ^^; I also hope it’s okay that I had to edit it, or it’d be a big block of text, hehe. Thank you so much again!!!! 💚💚💚)

PLEASE SANEMI IS SO FUCKING FUNNY