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ladyartemesia · 3 years

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To Once Upon A Bracelet Jin and Jungkook, how did telling your parents about your braceltes go?

“You asked us to take a considerable risk Jeon Alaya.”

“There is no risk if I am certain. And I was.”

The high queen had been blessed with two unusually stubborn sons and frankly she had let them wreck their own lives for long enough.

“The people will question us—”

“No they won’t. The announcement read ‘The Esteemed Prince of the Jeon Bloodline and The Mistress of The Wastes.’ Seokjin is my son, but there is only one prince of the Jeon bloodline—and that is Jungkook.”

King Tiemore Rus shifted uncomfortably.

“And what about Seokjin? According to my niece at the Royal Archives, he disappeared with Lin Yuna and forty-five minutes later she blew out every window in the complex due to—”

His face reddened and the high queen bit back a snort. Lin Yuna was a sonic mage. A blast like that indicated a significant release...of power.

“Due to?”

“Due to your eldest son’s enthusiasm.”

She grinned.

“He’s always been an overachiever.”

King Namjoon, the youngest member of the Council (and Jin’s close friend), was struggling to keep a straight face.

“I am willing to use one of my six allotted pardons to absolve him.”

Queen Sola Miez sneered a little.

“How proud you must be to have both of your sons as beneficiaries of a Royal pardon.”

“At least my children still speak to me.”

“Why you-”

“In conclusion—” Namjoon cut in sharply, “—the papers we filed carry the names of Jungkook and his lady and they are enchanted—tamper proof. The dates indicate that we approved the match before the bracelet was activated. Once this goes public, the people’s faith will be restored.”

Queen Park Inira sighed heavily as she looked over the documents that would announce the bonding of not one—but two royal princes.

“I still cannot believe you resorted to such measures.”

“The last time we tried to force his hand I nearly lost him. He’s a stubborn as a Fae donkey and twice as proud. That girl from The Wastes is the only woman I’ve ever seen who can handle him.”

“Yes but...” Namjoon tilted his head in consideration, “aren’t you still forcing his hand somewhat?”

“Not at all. If we had rejected the match then Jungkook might had rotted away in his study like the bloody martyr he believes himself to be.” The high queen’s voice softened a little as she considered her sons. “He would never pursue her on his own, but he would do anything to spare his brother from heartbreak. As long as he could justify being near her for Jin’s sake, I knew he’d never back down.”

“And you’re sure he bonded with her? We have witnesses that saw Kim Seokjin’s bracelet on Lin Yuna’s wrist. But no one’s seen Jungkook in—”

“I’m absolutely positive.”

Upon returning to work this morning, the butler of Golden Starlight had been challenged to a duel by the sofa, propositioned by a sculpture, and thoroughly lectured by a portrait of Aunt Mildred who had spared no detail when recounting the events of the previous evening.

“Your Majesties—”

The six members of the Royal Council looked up to see their chief aide entering the audience hall.

“Prince Kim Seokjin, Prince Jeon Jungkook, the Mistress of the Wastes, and Archivist Lin Yuna have requested an audience.”

“Took them long enough,” Namjoon mumbled.

“I think they were busy,” King Jung Hanwoo observed dryly.

The rest of the Council broke out into snickers. Even crabby old Queen Sola stifled a snort behind her jeweled hand.

“Enough of that.” Alaya shook her head. “Everyone needs to look furious and stern. They may have done exactly as we wanted, but they gave me a massive headache throughout the entire ordeal and I apparently have to replace all the windows in the Royal Archives.”

Namjoon lost it again and put his head down on the desk to try and contain himself.

“I mean it—” she warned after the young king’s shoulders finally stopped shaking with laughter. “No one is to smile for at least the first ten minutes.”

The high queen straightened her shoulders and plastered on a suitably austere expression.

“Now let them in.”

read Once Upon a Bracelet here

#bts #Jeon jungkook #once upon a bracelet #jungkook smut #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #ask my characters #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet

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afni-fics · 3 years

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In Hindsight: Chapter 5: In the Present... At Face Value

In Hindsight: Chapter 5: In the Present... At Face Value by C_R_Scott

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox

Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: When Tim was a child, his father Jack had told him and his mother that his beloved grandmother had passed away while she was in the hospital due to pneumonia. But eight years later, a trusted family friend is telling him something very different.

"Is that what Jack told you and your mother? He told you both your Nana was dead?"

Out of all of Bruce's Robins, past and present, Tim was proud of having the distinction of being known as the best detective out of all of them. His mind was as nimble as Nightwing was agile. He had figured out Batman's true identity at age nine. He discovered his father was lost in time when everyone else thought he was dead. He successfully routed Ra's al Ghul and prevented him from stealing Wayne Enterprises out from under the family.

Unfortunately, having such a nimble mind meant that the moment Lucius Fox's words left his mouth, Tim was already more than halfway to formulating a theory based on the statement he heard and the context of the conversation that immediately preceded it. However, it was the horrified tone of Lucius's voice, the appalled expression he saw on the elder man's face, and something deeper in his subconscious that slammed the brakes on his thought processes and caused his brain to short circuit before it could reach the conclusion they had been barreling towards.

Tim froze. He felt his heart stutter in his chest. Outwardly, he clamped down on his composure before daring to add his voice to the air. He took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"I'm fine," he thought to himself. "This is all just a misunderstanding."

Everything Jack told him that awful day was burned into his memory. It was the very first death of a loved one in his life and his first experience with grief. However, it endured it. He accepted it. He moved on.

"Everything is fine."

"Of course he did," Tim said matter-of-factly with a slight tilt of his head. "Nana was sick. She passed away in the hospital. Dad told us the day he got the call."

However, Tim felt a churning start low in his stomach as he observed Lucius's reaction to his words. The sensation was faint at first, but grew slowly in intensity as he watched the man on the other side of the desk. Lucius's expression was stricken as he shook his head. "No. Timber..." he started tentatively, as if trying to speak to a spooked animal. "That's not... Your grandmother isn't--"

"She had pneumonia," Tim interrupted with a shake of his head as he turned away from his old family friend, from the man who had been like an uncle to him once upon a time. "And she never got better." He closed his eyes as he clung to his faded memories from that horrible time so many years ago. "Mom was so depressed because we couldn't go to the funeral. She and Dad had a job in Cairo the same--"

"Timothy--"

He felt Lucius's hand settle on his shoulder. It should have been a comforting gesture, along with the elder man's gentle but firm expression of his full name. Instead, it caused of army of goosebumps to race across his skin and seemed to disconnect his brain from his voice box. Lucius waited until Tim hesitantly turned to meet and hold his gaze before continuing.

"--There was no funeral."

The muscles beneath Lucius's hand tensed immediately.

"It took a few months, but she recovered. She went home. She's alive."

Tim shook his head again before finally finding his voice. When he spoke, his tone was strained and brittle.

"No. That can't be right," he said. "Dad said... He told us she died. Why would he tell us that if it wasn't true?"

"I'm sorry Tim, but Jack lied to you and your mother."

The faded memories in Tim's mind began to crack. The aborted theory his brain had been processing earlier suddenly re-asserted itself and reached its logical conclusion. However, it was not a conclusion that Tim was in any frame of mind to accept.

Not in that moment.

"I'm sorry Lucius. I... I need to go."

Before Lucius could say anything more, Tim shrugged himself out from under the older man's hand and slipped out of the office, shutting the door quickly behind him.

As soon as he was in the relative privacy and safety of the elevator, he used his security clearance to make sure it would go straight to the garage where his car was parked without stopping on any other floor. As the elevator descended, Tim backed himself into the corner and buried his face in his hand while his mind ran a mile a minute.

"Nana can't be alive. Dad said she died...

"But Lucius would never say something like this if it wasn't true...

"But it can't be true...

"If Nana's alive, then that mean...

"No! That makes no sense...

"Dad wouldn't have lied to me about Nana...

"He wouldn't have lied to Mom...

"He couldn't have...

"He didn't...

Tim lifted his head from his hand and stared at hand, which was trembling slightly.

"Did he?"

It was a little nearly ten in the morning when Bruce's cell phone started ringing, the light from the screen illuminating the nightstand that rested next to his bed in the otherwise pitch black room. A weary arm snaked its way out from beneath the thick comforter on the bed. It took several tries, but finally the hand landed on the phone and pulled it toward the head still lying on the pillow.

Bleary eyes squinted as they peered at name on the too-bright screen before reluctantly pressing the "Accept" button.

"Yes Lucius?" Bruce mumbled, his deep voice weighed down by the bone-deep fatigue trying to drag him back into slumber.

"Is Tim at the manor?"

Bruce's brow furrowed. There was an edge of distress in his old friend's voice that managed to shove some of the lethargy out of his mind with a small spike of adrenaline. He pushed himself up into a seated position. "He shouldn't be? Last I saw him was around five am in the Cave before I went to bed. Did he not make it to the office?"

"He did," Lucius confirmed as Bruce put on his bluetooth headset so he could pull on his housecoat. "But something happened in the office that upset him, and now he won't answer my calls and the tracker in his work cell has been shut off."

It didn't take long for Bruce to leave his bedroom and go a few doors down the hall to Tim's bedroom. As he expected, the room was empty. The bed itself was still perfectly made with Alfred's usual attention to detail, but his closet door was open and there was a notable gap where one of his spare business suits was missing. His bathroom door was also ajar. Tim may not have slept at the manor, but he did shower and change there before heading to work.

"What happened at the office?" Bruce asked as he left Tim's room and made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

It took longer than it should have for Lucius to answer. "It's complicated."

Bruce frowned. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. "One moment Lucius." He'd just entered the kitchen and zeroed in on Alfred, who was sitting at the breakfast nook sipping a cup of tea.

The old butler was startled at the sight of the Wayne patriarch awake and out of bed before noon. "Master Bruce? What on earth--"

"Has Tim come back from the office this morning?"

Alfred shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him since he left the manor around eight am." He set down his teacup and immediately got to his feet.

"Can you check the Cave and make sure he didn't return when no one was looking? Also, if he's not there, can you activate the tracker in his personal cell and find out where he is right now?"

"Of course sir." With a crisp nod, Alfred went to the library where the entrance to the Cave was hidden.

Finally, Bruce turned his attention back to Lucius. "I'm back, so explain. What happened at the office?"

"It actually started last night when Tim got hit with Crane's new fear toxin..." Lucius told Bruce about the encounter Tim had with Tam after crashing into her apartment, and quickly explained how Bruce's adopted son was actually the same boy who used to live next door to him for several years as he was raised by his grandmother.

Bruce absorbed the new information with confusion. "Ok... That's definitely surprising, but doesn't sound bad at all. Why would that upset Tim?"

On the other end of the phone, Bruce could hear Lucius groan in frustration. "When Tim was eight, his grandmother got sick and ended up hospitalized so he had to go back to living with his parents. Then Jack told him and his mom that his Nana had died."

"I remember. Before I adopted Tim, he told me all his grandparents had passed away, and he had no other living relatives."

"Jack lied."

Bruce's blood ran ice cold in his veins. "What?"

"Tim's grandmother never died. Her name is Susan Klein and she still lives next door to my family. I tried to tell Tim his Nana was alive, and that's when he ran off. I think he's in denial."

Bruce had to sit down as he processed this information. For years, he'd cared for Tim while his parents were out of the country, and then after his mother died and his father was in a coma. And then when Jack died, he adopted the boy he'd grown to love as his own son... But it was all under the assumption that Tim had no one else in his life. Tim had believed he had no one else.

And it was all a lie?

"Why?" Bruce asked, confused. "Why would Jack lie about that?"

Before Lucius could offer any explanation, Bruce saw Alfred emerge from the library. "Timothy is not in the Cave, but I did track his phone. Right now he's stationary in his new house in Gotham. He's logged into his workstation in the Nest." The old man's brow furrowed. "I've tried reaching out to him both by phone and computer, but he's not responding to anything."

Bruce got to his feet. "We can talk more about this later, Lucius. Tim's at his new place in the city, so I'm going to check on him now."

"I'll have Tam meet you there."

"That's not necess--"

"Do either you or Alfred have a key to the front door, and have your biometrics been programed into the house security system yet?"

Bruce and Alfred shared a glance, but said nothing, much to both of their mutual surprises.

Lucius apparently took their joint silence as a negative. "Tam was present while the theater renovations were in their early planning stages, and her biometrics were preinstalled into the security matrix while Tim was programming it. She can get you in without the Nest locking itself down." Bruce could hear the sound of Lucius's computer shutting down as well as the rustling of an overcoat being pulled on. "I'll call Tam on my way home."

"You're leaving the office?" Bruce asked as he went to his bedroom so he could change out of his nightclothes.

"This is a family emergency, and Susan has been like a grandmother to my own kids for nearly twenty-five years now. She needs to know her grandson is alive and well."

Bruce had just gotten back to his room, though he paused at the door. That feeling of ice in his veins had reasserted itself. "Did she think Tim was dead?"

In the background, Bruce could hear the sound of Lucius taking the elevator. "Honestly... we didn't know what had happened to him," Lucius admitted in a low tone. "We weren't sure exactly what Jack was capable of back then."

Once inside his bedroom, Bruce immediately began to quickly gather his clothes to change. "Please Lucius. I want to help my son, but I need more information. Tell me what you know about Tim's parents and grandmother."

Author's Notes:

At first, I was going to make this a much longer chapter. However, midway through writing it, I decided to split this chapter into two parts, with another chapter taking place in the past splitting the differences. I really hope everyone is enjoying this tale so far. If anyone has any questions or comments, please feel free to post them. I'll do my best to answer them.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

#tim drake #tam fox #tim/tam #red robin #fanfiction #wip #rr: in hindsight #batfam #batfamily #lucius fox #bruce wayne

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k0saji · 5 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Sebastian Michaelis Characters: Sebastian Michaelis, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Nedzu (My Hero Academia), Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic Additional Tags: Demon Sebastian Michaelis, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Loves Cats, Demon Summoning, Summoning gone wrong, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler References Summary:

An interrupted summoning on the UA school ground brings Sebastian Michaelis and Aizawa together.

Aizawa disapproves.

Sebastian on the other hand is DELIGHTED upon finding a human that acts like a cat.

Shouta works at a highschool. He learns through experience that sometimes, no matter HOW hard he tries, there is no getting around teenage stupidity.

Such as right now, as he stares down a small group from the support class, dressed in loose, billowing robes all tied together by his capture equipment.

“What is going on here?” Shouta asks, not because he wants to know, but because its his job.

He would rather NOT know why a bunch of kids decided that this weekend would be the perfect night to perform a satanic ritual instead of more important things. Like sleep.

One of the kids, a girl Aizawa vaguely remembers Maijima complaining about during a staff meeting, squirms furiously in her binds.

“Talk,” he says, tightening the capture weapon.

“We’ll talk, we’ll talk!” one of the students wheezes out.

“Shinji!”

“Look Fujiwara, it didn’t work! Just give it up and maybe we won’t get expelled!” Shinji says, squirming around to glare at the girl.

Fujiwara Satoko, Shouta remembers. Maijima had said she was brilliant at recreating historical weaponry. It looks like weapons aren’t the only historical thing she likes to dabble in. Fujiwara keeps struggling, trying to get closer to the star inscribed inside a circle that is drawn on the concrete in dark red. It’s not blood, otherwise these five students would be inside Nezu’s office with their homeroom teacher instead of dealing with Shouta.

“Enough,” Shouta sighs, closing his eyes and tugging the group firmly away from the circle. He releases his capture weapon and pins them all with an unimpressed look. “Who’s your homeroom teacher?” Best to just hand them off to someone else, he’s getting late for his patrol.

Its a mistake, as Fujiwara lunges for the circle. Her fire quirk flares, weaker than Todoroki’s but still enough to make him flinch, catching him off guard. Shouta blinks the dots out of his eyes and at the same time snaps his capture equipment in her direction.

It’s too late though, as Fujiwara has lit all the candles and cuts her finger. A drop of blood falls down into the center of the circle as Shouta pulls her away, and the candlelight flares. Shouta shoves the girl back with her classmates, standing in front of them as the flames grow to the size of a large bush before going out, leaving a puddle of wax at each point of the star. In the middle of the circle stands a man dressed in a black suit. Black hair with long chin length bangs frame a face with skin so pale it’s almost unnatural. Red eyes shine in the darkness as they look beyond Shouta to the silent children and then slowly back to him.

“Who the hell are you?” Shouta asks, ready to activate his quirk. The man smiles, slow and delighted as he gives Shouta a once over.

“Oh my,” the stranger breathes out, his voice low and dark. He takes a step out of the circle, eliciting screams from the children. Another step has their courage failing as Shouta hears them run away, still screaming their heads off.

At least they’ll catch someone’s attention, Shouta thinks, shifting his grip on his capture weapon, keeping his body between the intruder and the fleeing students.

They’re all still getting detention though.

“I didn’t think that answering the summons would have gotten me this,” Shouta jerks away from the hand coming towards his face. He lashes out with a fist only to have it caught in ice cold hands, the man not even looking as he twists Shouta’s hand away up and away. “This really is quite a surprise! A good surprise I assure you,” the man adds, tilting his head towards Shouta.

Shouta fixes his face into his most deadpan stare. “Thanks,” he says, his other hand coming around to clap against the man’s ear. That hand is also caught and when Shouta tries to yank back and get distance he can’t move, held in place by the grip on his hands.

“Aizawa Shouta,” he freezes as the man purrs out his name, leaning into his pace with a sultry look in his red eyes. “You’re a rather interesting man, aren’t you?”

“Let go!” he growls, dropping to kick at the man’s legs. His hands are dropped as the man jumps, avoiding his kick and tackles Shouta to the ground, pinning his thighs down with his knees as his hands are caught up above his head.

“Now why would I do that?” the man asks, tilting Shouta’s chin up with his free hand.

Erase.

Shouta takes the chance and activates his quirk, but the man keeps smiling down at him, unperturbed as Shouta’s eyes start to ache. He struggles but nothing he does makes the man budge, and he’s quickly reaching the time limit for his quirk.

He blinks and the stranger just watches him, not making any other movements even as Shouta stops trying to escape.

“What do you want?” Shouta finally asks, fed up with being trapped on the cold ground. The man pulls back, still wearing that unnerving smile.

“I wasn’t going to answer the summoning you know.” Shouta freezes. There’s something heavy in the way man says summoning, something that makes the hair on the back of Shouta’s neck raise up. “With such a sloppy execution, it was almost an insult. But,” red eyes burn with a fire that Shouta can’t help but describe as unholy, “then I saw you.”

What the hell? Shouta starts squirming again, really not liking where this is going.

“You’re rather famous in our circles, you know?” The man continues, “It’s rather embarrassing that I would meet you like this, instead of greeting you properly. Though,” the man casts his eyes down looking down at him under half-lidded eyes, “I suppose you would be just as uncooperative. Part of your charm.”

Great, a stalker. “What are you?”

That smug, satisfied smile grows, revealing white teeth that gleam in the low light, catching on unnaturally sharp incisors that make Shouta more aware of just how vulnerable his neck is.

“I am a demon, call me Sebastian,” the man, no demon says leaning in, coming far too close for comfort-!

“Eraserhead!”

Shouta has never been so happy to have his eardrums assaulted by Present Mic’s quirk. Sebastian covers his ears with a grimace, looking rattled for once and Shouta takes the opening, twisting his hips to toss him off, jumping to his feet and putting some much needed distance between them.

Present Mic, Snipe and surprisingly All Might stand at ready, Present Mic already blasting another sound wave at Sebastian. Shouta grabs his scarf and not a moment too soon. Sebastian just waves his hand, physically batting aside Present Mic’s attack with a dark scowl. Shouta snaps his wrist and his scarf whips out, looping around Sebastian and pulling tight, binding his arms to his sides the same time Shouta activates his quirk, just in case. Somehow, despite all odds it works.

Sebastian looks surprised as the red glow abruptly fades from his eyes. He looks at Shouta with an unnervingly hungry stare before smiling and offering his surrender.

“So, you are a demon,” Nezu says, sipping his tea. Across from him, in one of the holding cells in the police department Sebastian smiles, even as he is surrounded not only by armed policemen but several pro heroes.

“Yes,” Sebastian confirms again, smiling like this is a normal tea party and he isn’t being interrogated.

“And you were summoned by a few of my students?”

“Not quite,” Sebastian says, leaning back in his chair, the multiple chains and cuffs wrapped around him jingling with every movement. “They did summon me, but I was not going to answer it. Summons from curious children really are nothing but a waste of time.”

“And yet here you are.”

Shouta frowns from behind his scarf. So far Sebastian has been cooperative, letting himself be arrested and taken into custody. He still can’t shake the feeling of doom that has been following him though.

Especially since Sebastian keeps looking at him through the one way glass, even when Shouta changes places with Present Mic.

“So why did you answer the summons, Mr…”

“Michaelis.”

“Of course.” Shouta gives Nezu credit, keeping a straight face when a demon gives the ostentatious, foreign fake name takes effort. “Why are you still in this realm?”

Red eyes gleam, and Shouta gets a bad feeling as they look past Nezu and stare directly right at him.

Hours later Shouta is nursing a beer as Hizashi laughs at him.

“So, wait, wait,” Hizashi slaps his hand on the table, his own beer a safe distance away. “You once saved a demon cat, and it went around Hell singing your praises?” He takes one look at Shouta and starts laughing again. “Only you, man. Only you.”

Shouta just grumbles into his capture weapon and regards his mostly empty bottle.

Apparently no good deed goes unpunished, and he only had himself to blame.

“Did you know Mittens was a demon?”

Nemuri snorts, slamming down another beer in front of him as she drops to the adjacent seat. “Shouta, I think you were the only one that cat actually liked, and it bit you half the time anyways.”

Shouta blinks.

"Of course no one knew she was a demon! Hell no one knew demons existed until this morning!" Nemuri throws her hands up, collapsing back against the couch.

Shouta grumbles and drowns the rest of his beer. He eyes the open case on the table, debating on whether he should drink another one. It was a school night, and it would be illogical- irresponsible even- for him to arrive at work with a hangover.

“So how many other demon cats have you been secretly cozying up to?” Nemuri smirks over her bottle, jerking it safely out of the way as Mic bends over laughing.

Screw it, he decides, cracking the tab decisively. The troublemakers can spend the day doing physical conditioning, Hound Dog owes him one.

There is a glimpse of white teeth against black shadows out of the corner of his eye that he firmly ignores. The faster the demon gets bored of him the better.

Three days later, when the same demon is fussing over the bleeding cut under his eye as they are surrounded by the (unconscious) bodies of numerous villain he privately admits that it might be useful to have Sebastian around.

Logical even, given how he had struck the Nomu down after it had thoroughly thrashed Shouta .

“Tsk, that’s going to leave a scar,” Sebastian murmurs, dabbing at the edge of the wound lightly. His eyes burn faintly as they track the trails of red streaking down his face, expression too hungry to mean anything innocent.

“Whatever, next time I’ll ask villains to avoid the face,” Shouta grunts, and freezes as Sebastian’s long cold fingers curl around his chin, keeping him in place as his pupils slit like a cat, irises glowing with malevolence.

It says something about just how fucked up his tastes are when his stomach clenches and swoops out from under him as Sebastian pulls him closer, fingers firm and unyielding even as Shouta tries to yank his face away.

“There will not be a next time,” the words are purred out against his lips, a promise burning between them that Shouta is too exhausted to navigate even as his lips tingle. “I believe that mouse offered a teaching position earlier.”

Shouta ’s eyes widen, a croaked “What?” said in alarm as Sebastian, that bastard, smiles and gets off the ground. He growls and a twist of his arm has the tatters of his capture weapon up and around the demon’s arm, holding him in place.

“Oi, what do you mean by that?” Shouta asks, stepping closer to where Sebastian is admiring the wrap of cloth around his arm like a woman admiring her engagement ring. The thought sends a shiver through him, and he immediately releases the demon with a snap of his wrist. Sebastian catches the capture weapon, bringing the ends up to his lips, parting them with a sigh when the capture weapon retracts back around his neck.

“Nedzu-sensei offered me a job. A teacher’s aide,” he smirks at Shouta , taking advantage of the clearly eavesdropping classroom of children that Shouta has inadvertently caught the attention of to raise his voice so that it also carried over to the less obvious but still eavesdropping adults. “I said I had some experience as a tutor, and he agreed that it might be the most unobtrusive use of my time here.”

Unobtrusive his ass, Nezu probably wanted to one up the police force by keeping a pet demon.

A pet demon that protected him and his charges, Shouta grudgingly admits, walking past Sebastian, his hands tucked into his pants as he goes to make sure all members of the class are accounted for. Sebastian falls into step behind him, dark eyes focused on the back of his neck, making him away of just how present Sebastian’s attention is.

It’s creepy.

And kind of hot.

Shouta groans into the remains of his capture weapon as Sebastian chuckles knowingly behind him.

Fine, maybe he won’t mind being the catnip in this scenario.

He’s still going to make his opinion known to Nedzu. After he gets some sleep.

Without that dratted demon.

Author’s Note: Spoiler : He goes home with that dratted demon.

#I'm writing #BNHA #Black Butler #aizawa shouta #sebastian michaelis

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aprofessorbhaer · 7 years

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Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji Part 8

trigger warnings: rudeness, discussion of power dynamics, mention of the possiblility of rape (not acted on)

Word Count: 1101

Part Eight: Arrangement

“So, you believe that Lau knows, Robert?”

I was in the master’s study, again the subject of his interrogation. I inclined my head. “My lord, Mr. Lau is an acquaintance of the late madam and therefore Lady Elizabeth, who both know. I am uncertain as to the extent of his knowledge, but—” I cut myself off, not sure how to continue.

“What is it?” the master demanded. “Spit it out, boy.”

I soldiered on. “Just now, he commented on the similarities between myself and Mary, my lord. He also illuminated the fate of a woman who is believed to be a crossdresser. He did not give away how much he knows, but managed to impress his possible power over me nonetheless.”

“And how did you respond to this?”

“Robert responded admirably, my lord. He gave nothing away.”

I was shocked by this interjection. How much had Sebastian witnessed? The master, however, looked disgruntled. “I did not ask you for your personal opinion, Sebastian.”

The butler bowed. “Of course, my lord. I merely thought a third party may be a better judge, especially given Robert’s humble nature.”

I gave a small bow to Sebastian, unsure how else to respond to such a declaration.

The master scowled. “Very well. You may retire, Robert, if you have finished all your chores. I have no further use for you tonight.”

I bowed. “Yes, my lord.” I turned and left the room.

Once outside, I stopped and contemplated my next move. Where would I be sleeping? As far as I knew, there weren’t any free servants’ quarters ready for habitation in the male wing. All of my things were in Sebastian’s room. And what would I wear to bed? It would not be healthy to sleep with my chest bound, surely. But would that mean I ought to wear a nightgown? What if I was called in the night?

Panicking, I didn’t notice the door open and close silently behind me until I heard “Trying to sort out your sleeping arrangements, I’d wager?”

I spun around to see Sebastian standing behind me. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, there is no need. You will simply share my room.” And with that, he started walking briskly down the hallway. Stunned, I eventually caught up with him, staring at his back in a futile attempt to decrypt the puzzle he presented. Once we were at his room, again, he opened the door and indicated I enter before him. When I did, he closed it behind us, locking it.

I turned to face him. “Sir, there is only one bed here.”

“We will only need one bed, miss.” My eyes widened at the feminine word.

Fear rising, I inquired “May I ask what you want of me, sir?”

Sebastian tilted his head. “What I want of you?”

I nodded. “What do you expect to happen, sir? How will our arrangement work?”

His expression became thoughtful. “Are you asking if I want something in exchange for your room and board, Mary?” I nodded again, not trusting my voice. He seemed to consider that. “I only ask that you maintain the work ethic you have so far displayed.”

I couldn’t quite believe it. “I beg your pardon, sir. But you are in a unique position. I am unsure what you can gain from sharing your space with me, but I confess—“

“To put it crudely, you expect to pay me with your body because I know your secret, and also have you here in my room. Therefore, I am perfectly placed, and no one will be the wiser.”

I lowered my head in apprehension and shame. “Y-yes, sir. I apologize if I have offended you. But I am quite in your power.”

“And you don’t see what is keeping me from abusing it?”

For once, I made no answer of any kind. My day had been unusual, trying, and so had my entire stay so far at Phantomhive Manor. I certainly didn’t want to be taken against my will, but I didn’t see any way around it. I felt a gloved hand under my chin, raising my face to Sebastian’s.

He studied me intently. “You are a good servant, a hard worker. You follow orders...usually,” he smirked at my blush, “and you don’t question them. I believe you to be an asset, and I don’t wish to jeopardize that by forcing myself upon you. Therefore, no harm will come to you in my room. You will sleep here. I will make due. You will not argue with me.” He released his hold.

I bowed, fervently grateful. “Thank you, sir.”

His mouth twisted. “Do not thank me for refraining from raping you, Mary.” He looked over my outfit, then back at my eyes. “Do you have a nightshirt, Mary?” I shook my head. He headed to a wardrobe, and returned momentarily with a white garment. He laid it on the bed. “Here. It was too small, anyway.” The corner of his mouth twitched in humor, then smoothed out. “I trust that you will not be sleeping in your…bindings, correct?”

I blushed and nodded. He nodded in return. “Good. I suppose male sleep clothes are unavoidable, in this part of the house, but your health demands that at least your nights are free.” His eyes darted up to my hair. “Perhaps, you ought to sport a braid, however. Wearing you hair loose would likely shatter anyone’s illusion that you are not a lady.”

I flushed deeply at the flattery. Hoping to change the subject, I asked, perhaps foolishly “Sir, do you not think it best I am always treated as Robert, so long as I am here? For the sake of caution?”

His eyes narrowed. “No. No one will get to you here. You can be Mary in this room. No one will hear, or see. I will make sure of it. The door locks for your protection and privacy.”

I protested. “But, sir; If I lock the door, how will you get in to sleep and such?”

He smirked. “Do not worry about that, Mary. After all, I am one hell of a butler, and my duties do not leave me much time to myself, anyways. Any Phantomhive butler who would have it otherwise isn’t worth his salt.” He bowed, ever a gentleman. “Good night.” With that, he unlocked the door, and closed it behind his retreating form.

I quickly stepped forward to relock it, then went about getting ready for bed in a daze. As I slipped under the covers, I wondered how life at the manor could possibly get any stranger.

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