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Sting seemed to have an unnerving habit he himself couldn't get rid of. It would happen, every once in a while when he came back from work, winding through the sparkling city streets. And there it would appear; a little trinket hanging behind a shops window, something that would look particularly nice with (y/n)'s eyes. He'd enter; the bell ringing. The blonde would always chat a bit with the owner of the shop, over the sunny weather or how the Jewel lowered in value again, and miraculously earn a discount. So that cute charm ended up in his pocket, wrapped in gold paper(you could never go wrong with gold, Sting had claimed last week).
