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thecandywrites · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022 Day 3- Dirty Talk

So this is a fun twist on the prompt that I had a blast writing. Enjoy.

Again, many, many thanks to @starsandskies for her Kinktober prompts. Again, I'm still playing catch up. But! Hopefully you'll really like it.

Kinktober Day 3

Dirty Talk- Food Poisoning

You spotted your potential client and grinned and sauntered up to him and put your hand on one shoulder as you moved your hand from one shoulder to the other as you came around him.

“So what brings you around here Handsome?” You cooed to him as you took the glass of wine that was in his hand and daringly took a sip of it as you held his gaze almost defiantly.

“The usual reasons.” He answered back, as if he had been rehearsing that line at least a hundred times only moments before you asked your question.

“The usual reasons?” You scoffed before you put his glass of pinot noir back into his hand as you sucked your teeth in disappointment.

“Too bad. I don’t waste my time with the usual.” You tossed back before you turned around to walk away to find another potential client that would be worth your time.

“Why?” He called after you which halted your escape as you turned to the side to appraise him and give him an unimpressed look.

“Usual reasons means you have usual problems. It means you’ll need usual solutions to said problems. And it also means that you have the usual pay to solve those usual problems. And I’m not that kind of problem solver and my price is way higher than "the usual pay". Because I'm a specialist. But there are plenty of others in this place that will fix that usual problem for you right up without a single issue, you're surrounded by all kinds of tools whose bread and butter is "the usual". And I'm frankly unimpressed and find 'the usual' boring and not worth my time.” You answered back as you gestured to all the others that were walking around the place, scoping out potentials there while others came and headed straight to their preferred "problem solver". While you could only hope and pray that your favorite "subcontractors" would be coming in today to give you worthy of your time and expertise, and with the bank roll to make it worth your while too.

The “problem fixers” were indicated by key items. If they were male, or preferred to present as male, they wore black suits with red ties, red pocket squares in thier suit jackets and red shoes with gold and ruby tiebars and cufflinks and earrings if they so desired. With the occasional black gold chain encrusted with rubies among them or regular yellow gold chains, encrusted with rubies, garnets or any other precious red stone if they so desired.

If they were female, or at least- preferred to present as female- they wore black dresses or pantsuits with either a red belt, or sash. But with your dress this evening, you forewent the belt and the sash since it would break up the sleek designs of the dress itself and would break up the look and aesthetic you were going for. Because you sure did love putting the femme into femmefatal. But it was required that the black outfit have red shoes and a red clutch and red lipstick to match. Along with gold and ruby jewelry. Whether that be yellow, white, rose or black gold was up to the discerning taste of the wearer. Since the shade of red could vary slightly to make sure it was a was a flattering shade of red for the wearer. And also afforded for the "problem fixers" to differentiate themselves from the others while more of the senior members had thier own signiture look that didn't take kindly to copy-cats.

And if the "problem fixer" was either nonbinary or gender neutral or simply refused the classic gender roles, they had the most freedom of how they could dress their bodies. Just as long as it went with the theme of black, gold and red and very fashionable.

But usually, the more jewelry, especially the quality of said jewelry, or bling, the higher end designer brands you wore- indicated- how much your cost would be if you got commissioned to "fix problems". Cheap costume jewelry? While flashy- indicated you were new, barely trained and untested and had yet to earn any "real" money taking jobs from bids from the subcontractors. If you wore something real, but smaller and simpler- it either indicated you had a few jobs under your belt, but yet to build up enough of a portfolio of work or pay for that matter- to invest in your appearance in this place. But the big rollers, the ones who had been in this game the longest and had the most amazing wet work in their portfolio and they still wanted to be hired and to stay sharp- could afford to go all out. And some of the male presenting "problem presenters" could afford to practically look like a pimp with jewel encrusted everything, thick heavy furs, even in the heat of summer. And oppulant extravagance and it was usually the subcontractors- depending on their need- willing to increase thier price for the job ten fold if not more- to have "the best" fix thier problem for them.

And while you weren't quite to that level. You had enough experience to ask and demand a higher wage for your work while your quality of work was on par with some of the greats. But the only thing they had on you- was experience and connections. Which is what you were looking to build in yourself now. And you were hoping this ruby and diamond jewelry set would be worth it's investment if it got you viewed as one of the more desireable- "specialists" in here.

And it was the red that distinguished the "problem fixers" from the rest of the staff. Who wore black and gold exclusively. For female presenting persons, usually gold pearls on an item to distinguish them or if they were male, or presented as male, pure solid yellow-preferrably 24 karat gold for their accessories with no gemstones on the off chance they would be mistaken as anything other than the wait staff. But even they could afford to invest in thier own attire so that thier own tips for thier service would make any other waiter or waitress willing to slit thier own family's throats just to get the paydays these guys did. Because- just like in Vegas- with gambling Whales. The clientelle in this place could afford the best in food and drink and afford to leave thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of dollars in tips depending on how much food or drink they needed.

Otherwise the very lavish and luxurious private club could be mistaken for an exclusive nightclub but it far away from the flashing lights of Vegas, but in a city just as bright and just as bustling as any other world reknowned city. But this particular establishment was open 24/7 to serve it's own exclusive clientelle who could come from any time zone on the planet and need "work" done at any time of the day or night.

And the design of the place was exclusively black and gold with diamond or crystal accents in the chandeliers, which was why the "dress code" for those that worked here and got the privledge to work from here was so strict. There were many codes that many lived by here. And if you were serious and took your work seriously- you needed to present yourself as such, but still play into the illusion that this was just some fancy, super exclusive club. And not the assassin's den it was.

But this client, from the looks of him, wasn't worth your time. So you simply gave him a little waive goodbye with a smirk over your shoulder before you continued to walk away from him to look for another potential client before he came walking after you.

“Well what if I could offer you something unusual?” He offered, just a tad desperately too. Which was intriguing as you read him top to bottom and looked around to see if anyone else was watching your interaction with him to see if any other had overheard and was now on their way to try to claim this client right out from under your nose.

“Which is what? Vallina? Only distinguished by the fact that it’s from Madagascar as opposed to any other kind from any other source?” You returned as you paused again but turned all the way around to fully face him this time.

“No, I’m talking about the kind that is as dangerous and deadly- like food poisoning.” He tried to convey, as he dropped his volume to say the term 'food poisoning' as his cheeks flushed harder while fear flashed in his eyes. Which made you blink in surprise, not thinking he would have the nerve to say something like that- especially out loud and out on the open floor for anyone nearby to hear. Because "food poisoning" could have many implications in this establishment. But was never something to be taken lightly or dismissed. Because "food poisoning" was like a mini SOS signal. And the way he said it- told you it was a serious case. And depending on the severity, could be dangerous to the establishment as a whole.

Ok, so 'the usual' was more than what he seemed at first glance as you closed the distance between him and yourself as you looked into his eyes, trying to read his soul beyond them as your grin grew. Because "food poisoning" was also the kind of threat that many "contractors" allowed thier "subcontractors" to offer. It usually paid at least double or triple to get rid of. And if anything, your curiosity was piqued and you decided to give him a second chance to make a bid for your time and attention.

“Now why didn’t you lead with that? I love it when subcontractors talk dirty to me.” You cooed as you slipped back into your courtesan facade.

“Is there anywhere we could go privately to discuss the further details?” He asked hopefully before he pulled out a black envelope gilded in gold with the design that marked that what was inside was a job- open for bidding with a skull imprinted on the wax seal, which meant it was a kill order. Which only made the curve to your grin that much more dangerously wicked.

“Of course, come with me.” You offered as he pocketed the envelope and you took his arm, and since you were on his arm, the guards at the bottom of the stairs allowed both of you to ascend them in the first place. Because the VIP section was actually a series of booths for negotiations on the orders, offers and jobs. You brought him up the black and gold glittering stairs to the VIP booths that lined both sides of the hallway, looking for an open one- which they were all numbered, but if the booth was in use- it had a cover over the number to signify it as being in use.

The booths themselves were distinguised by the black silk curtains between the black marble columns that had gold leaf pressed into the various reliefs carved into the pillars themselves that indicated where one booth started and ended. But between the pillars- hung all around, both inside and out with long, black silk curtains- with gold glittering jewels sewn into a cascading design down the length of them. You pulled his pocket square from his business jacket pocket and put it over the number over the number jutting out of the pillar to indicate you were putting it into use. Since each "subcontractor" always had to have a pocket square or something similar to get the privlidge to come up here and get a private booth to discuss the details and negotiate.

And once you did that, you pulled back the curtains to reveal a set of doors before you opened one of them and gestured for him to enter it first which he did before you closed the curtains and then shut the door. You pressed a button inlaid into the special table inside the booth- to close that set of noise canceling doors since the space was enclosed in bulletproof, and noise proof plexiglass, hidden by long curtains of silk to hide the safety and security measure, just in case "negotiations" went south and got messy.

“Now, the room is secure, what is this ‘deadly dangerous food poisoning’ problem that you might need an exquisite problem solving tool- like me to fix? Come on, talk dirty to me.” You invited, your tone as salacious as the pose you struck on the small half circle black velvet couch in this little private booth.

“Uh, um, well, actually it’s all in here.” He rather nervously answered before he took the envelope back out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it over to you which made your eyebrow raise in critical if not surprised fashion as your smile shrunk down to a pout. While this wasn't "unusual". It had been a while since you had a new client that used this particular proper proceedure. Usually only those who were brand new to this used this exact "proper" proceedure and formality. But such protocols and formalities could usually be dismissed and unused once there was more familiarity. But he was honoring the proper proceedure and protocol so you followed it in turn.

He must have been new. Very new. Because usually the subcontractors only let you glance at orders like these as they read the details which were more like ‘demands’ off to you, using coded language that sounded like “dirty talk” but was in reality- instructions for “problems” that they wanted “tools” and "problem solvers" like you to fix.

You took the envelope from him and took a moment to inspect it closely. Because this wasn’t your first encounter with a plant, or the bait for a trap, which this room was specifically built to save the tool, but kill the unlucky bastard who tried to play "subcontractor". But something about him didn’t lead you to believe that he wasn’t necessarily a plant- just a nervous first timer.

But this particular envelope was thicker than usual, which meant there were many "details" about this offer. The envelope was authentic though. And that’s all that mattered in that moment.

Because usually the fakes never got the tiny details about the envelope right. They either had the spacing off, or they didn’t have the gold embossing raised or quite the right pattern on the silken satined black paper. Or they got the paper it was printed on- wrong in thickness. It was a unique silk blend paper, with areas of matte or glossy pearl finish with real 24 karat gold leaf on the embossing. And gold foil lazer printed in other areas. You turned it around and noticed the second seal that under the first. The first seal simply held a special band around the envelope. The skull in gold wax- indicated it was a kill order.

But the second seal was to the actual envelope. That seal was what defined and dictated who the contractor was- that was offering the job. Each crime syndicate family had it’s own seal. And the seals themselves were also very hard to duplicate. You tapped your acrylic nail on the seal to make sure it was real wax and not that cheap plastic-y wax that the skull seal was always in because it was meant to glitter and glow like real gold but was essentially trash once it was broken and could be kept for your records as part of your portfolio. And the relief was also embossed with gold leaf too.

You recognized the seal. You had done many jobs for this particular syndicate before. And it was actually this syndicate you were hoping had a job lined up for you tonight since this syndicate never seemed to rest. Always working, always moving, always growing and expanding. It had started out as a big fish in a little pond and then when they made it to "the big time" they realized they were a small sardine in an ocean. But they were quickly gobbling up other fish and just kept on swimming and eating and were now quite the shark in comparison. Something to have a healthy fear of, high respect for, and graciousness and respect when dealing with. So you knew the seal was authentic. Which only led you to believe that the man next to you must be brand new to this. And probably wasn’t saying anything other than that one buzz word because he probably had no clue what to even say beyond that.

You broke the wax seal which for you- was another sign he must have been new- like newborn baby- still covered in afterbirth kind of new. Because the normal subcontractors broke the seals when they got the order and it was the order- made to look like a couture invitation- to even get through the doors and enter the establishment in the first place. The subcontractors had to- themselves have a dress code of thier own. Grays and either blues and greens, to contrast the black, gold and red.

But even at the door of the establishment, the invitation was scanned for "contrand". It was X-rayed, ultrasounded, wieghed, measured, and inspected to make sure it wasn't a fake as a security measure. But even the best fakes had gotten passed before, so each "problem solver" were always on thier toes so to speak because if a few had gotten through and past the doormen before, it could happen again, at any other moment.

But the regular subcontractors liked to open it and read it first and then “resealed it”. Which you could tell by how the red wax would have been partially remelted to restick to the paper. But this looked and felt like he was simply handed this by the contractor and sent in here, practically almost blind with the bare minimum of knowledge to not get himself killed on sight. Which meant he was either being protected, or- most likely- had not proven his trustworthiness and this was always the big test for "subcontractors" is if they could get into this place that was affectionately referred to as "the tool shed". Thus the construction terminology.

“You’re new.” You noted as you dropped the courtesan act and looked at him even more closely, keeping an eye out for every single detail possible to make sure he wasn't a plant. Because if he was, you had every right to kill him where he sat, because "food poisoning" was practically communicable in a place like this and posed just as big of a threat to the establishment as it could pose to it's respective syndicate.

New could be good though. Very good for the business, because the newest additions to the exclusive clientelle lists paid the most, while the oldest ones paid what they originally did when they first entered the agreement to have the right to even send someone in here with thier bids for jobs. It could also be good if he was new especially if this particular syndicate was growing.

But new could also be dangerous because new always came with the risk of it being a trap and "the new guy" or "new girl" being a plant from any of the agencies like the FBI- CIA or MI6 or whatever. Even though most "problem solvers" usually were ex military or had any kind of "formal" or "informal" training as an assassin to be "deemed good enough" to be "a tool" for any particular "tool box" in this "tool shed".

But so far- he was following protocol. So you didn’t feel the need to press the hidden panic button that was hidden in an unassuming gold tile in the other wise black marble with gold inlay on the floors- to get the room surrounded and to open up a trap door for you to fall through before the room would be blasted and kill anything and everything within the booth, thus- the bomb proof plexiglass.

Because you didn’t see how he could pose a serious threat to you. At least from his spot on that couch and especially since while this dress didn’t leave much to the imagination, it still held the fact that you were armed to the teeth and could kill him at least 16, if not 17 ways just from sitting here without breaking a sweat, or a nail.

You opened the envelope and pulled out the distinct card. The correct perfect thickness of the sleek and silken pearlized pitch black but patterened paper. Complete with the embossed- gold gilded border. So far, so good. The gold foil type was even correct. It had a sequence number at the top and the correct date typed under the sequence number so that both the contractor, the tool and the tool shed could keep track of any and all work done.

The establishment sent out these "blank"- "invitations" to the syndicates with deliberate spaces in gold foiled lettering and lines in any language the syndicate liked to work in- so that the syndicate could fill in the blanks with gold ink as to what they needed. But each "invitation" had a cost unto itself to even get a single one of. But most syndicates could afford to buy them in bulk and by the dozen, if not by the hundreds for any given year. And any "unused" invitations from the previous years, could be exchanged and "rolled over" into the next year while others had standing orders and only the original members of this club could use invitations that didn't need to be numbered according to the year but still had to be serialized in number. So it was an authentic offer from an authentic syndicate.

Just a new subcontractor who didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing in the tool shed.

Great.

You needed to ask for more in your fee for them to send you the FNG and scaring you into thinking that the syndicate and the establishemnt were in danger from this "food poisoning". Which was very fatal in it's full understanding.

“Is it that obvious?” He asked as he flushed a bit sheepishly and fidgeted with his watch, which you could appreciate was probably standard issue for him in that particular syndicate because each syndicate did have thier own unique styling as well. But you could tell it was recording your interaction with him, probably more for his protection than yours to make sure that you both followed proceedure and protocol. Which was allowed, since syndicates needed to be a bit paranoid to make sure that the tool they were using was authentic too. Because it wasn't unusual for "plants" to hide as "new tools" in the tool shed either. And thankfully, the plants got picked out pretty quickly because they didn't follow the protocol or the full dresscode. Because otherwise, tools could be traded and moved to different tool boxes in different tool sheds because of the vetting process involved in becoming a tool. And communication between tool sheds was immaculate and nothing seemed to get passed them.

“The usual subcontractors- which is what you are for coming in here- have usually already broken the seal and read the offer and choose their desired tools according to the needs of the situation or "problem" that needs a "problem solver" or "tool" like me to fix. The fact that you didn’t, means either you are not that familiar with the catalog that lists all the tools in this "tool box" for this particular "tool shed". Or it could have meant that you already knew what was in here without having to open it, and that any tool would do. Or, possibly, that you're looking to pinch a few pennies and are hoping a cheaper tool that doesn’t get used that much- is eager to make it out of the tool box to be used and get resharpened before it’s considered no longer a viable or productive tool and no longer kept as a tool. Because no one keeps rusty tools in their tool boxes. Because rust- like food poisoning- can spread and be more of a liability rather than useful.” You waived off dismissively as you read it over before you grinned when you read it and were delighted by the "problem" that needed to be fixed.

The bid to solve and correct the rather dangerous and indeed deadly problem that definitely counted as "food poisoning" was, as you expected and hoped for- two and a half times the usual price for such a job, mostly because of who had caused it. Because this problem- risked this family’s exposure and could lead to multiple members of the contractor's immediate family as well as the key members of the syndicate being vulnerable and needing "medical assistance". Which usually meant a trip to a very special hospital that was a line of hospitals around the world that tools, subcontractors and contractors alike could use and access to get the "medical care" they needed. That could range from anything to plastic surgery to alter appearance, fake thier deaths and actual medical records, patch ups and recovery, you name it- they could provide it- to keep you alive, even if you had to use one of many "spare" lives you could afford and if at all possible- keep everyone healthy and happy and most important- functioning so that business wouldn't be interrupted, and neither would the flow of funds in all of it's glorious forms. Gone were the days of cold hard cash, but now that practically everything was digital, you really only needed to have a cache of hard currency, as more of a disaster preparedness kind of situation. Otherwise, because all tools in the tool shed, depending on what kind they were and what specialties they had- meant that with every successful job, not only did your fee increase, but so did the "budjet" from the establishment so that you- as a tool- had everything you needed to get the job done and done well. And this job had an offer that the syndicate would vouch for the tool to be 100% funded and backed. With even a special care package guaranteed. Which for you was icing on this surprisingly exciting and dangerous cake for taking out the deadly point of threat.

And right now, this syndicate was hoping to keep the "food poisoning" to as few in number of people as possible. It needed not just any tool with any particular skillset, quite the opposite. It needed to have a very special tool with a very special skill set to fix the problem. And clean up the mess, scrub the area, clean up any signs of any food poisoning. Which, depending on how many people could "contract" it. Could threaten the entire syndicate and potentially cross-contaminate the establishment. Which was why the establishment already put thier stamp of approval for full funding when they recieved the order for this particular job's bid invitation. The offer also requested that that the tool- tie up any and all loose ends and leave the scene spotless. And it was right in your wheelhouse.

But this was only the initial bid, with only the biggest and most important details listed. However, what was unique was that this offer came with a very quick timeline because "food poisoning" could be quite contageous quite quickly and it was very urgent and needed immediate action to rectify and cure, clean, decontaminate and immobolize, deactivate and sterlize the source of the food poisoning so that the threat was rendered inert and came with a shockingly short deadline, which would also explain the higher than usual fee. Because the point of threat was trying to use what they had gotten and use it as blackmail against the syndicate. Which was why it now counted as "food poisoning". And the job required you to retrieve the blackmail intact but of course, not see what said blackmail was so you yourself wouldn’t be seen as a potential threat either and be "exposed" to the "contamination".

Food poisoning indeed.

“So what’s the take?” You asked him.

“Excuse me?” He asked.

“Wow, you are really brand-spankin' new. Do you need me to really spell all of this out for you?” You asked him with a frown.

“Uh, no, I uh, just need to know if you’ll accept it or not.” He answered.

“Any special conditions if I do?” You asked.

“Only that you do so and finish the job before the deadline that’s on it.” He answered before you nodded and hummed in response.

So you pulled your special fountain pen out of your clutch- with ink that glowed under black light- so that to the onlooker under normal light- it never had anything written on it at all. The pen was specially made just for you, and your pen that distinguished you from the other “tools” in this toolbox. But the ink- was rather universal to be used by all the tools belonging to this particular tool shed becuase under blacklight- instead of glowing blue or even a slight purpleish blue- it glowed pink which was as close to red as they could get since the color of choice for this tool shed was red since all the toolsheds kept to the black and gold styling and decore, but the accent color to signify the "tools" was unique to the toolshed itself and the very lucky tools could go and work from any and all tool sheds around the world and had all the sets of "dress code" to match.

And the only other identification you could give was your handwriting style and signiture, that was also in the catalog too. You swiped your fountain pen's tip to get the special ink over your thumb before you pressed your thumb print into the paper with your signature, as another safety precaution and protocol to protect the subcontractor that they were working with a professional tool, and not a fake or a plant. The thumb print especially was used to distinguish each tool from the others and was also in the catalog that only the heads of the syndicate had access to such things and were kept under more locks and keys than any gold or jewels could be. Because a tool's thumb print was just tantamount to signing the contract- or in this case- your counter offer- in blood because of all the layers of anonymity to keep everyone safe and to keep the contractors themselves- clean and safe which in turn was a layer of protection for their immediate friends and family.

You wrote your own special conditions on the back in order for you to take the offer and be the "tool- used” to fix this problem on such short notice. But with the same quality of work as previously given on your previous work with them. You blew on the ink to make sure it dried into the special paper and didn't smudge. Then once the ink dried, you slipped the paper back into the envelope and used the heat from your cigarette lighter to reheat the wax on the bottom edge of the seal on the envelope before you sealed it again and handed it back to him, but kept the strip of special black paper with the gold wax seal showing a skull with you- as proof that you were in active negotiations with a client.

“I’ll be waiting right here for the answer. The guards at the bottom of the stairs will let you back up without me because your pocket square is still on the number because we are now negotiating terms.” But this envelope is your key in and out of the tool shed. Guard it with your life." You offered to him as you pressed the same button hidden in the inlay of the table that opened the doors so he could go and deliver your counter offer before a server came in just after he left and noticed your subcontractor left the booth- envelope in hand as he quickly walked down the long hallway and down the steps to go outside where he could give the counter offer to the contractor- who- should be nearby, but not so close so as to be caught up- just in case the establishment came under fire from an ambush.

“Anything I can get for you while you wait Love?” The waiter asked with a tray tucked under his arm.

“I’ll take a Viper Venom and a Fluer slider- medium rare. I have a feeling I might have a while to wait and I’m hungry. Also, is there any way you can tell me what FNG subcontractor I just got a bid from? He practically still had afterbirth on him. He followed protocol but if he had not had an authentic bid on him, I would have thought he was a plant and would and could have killed him on sight and ordered that whoever's offer he had on him- got compromised.” You requested.

“Yes Ma’am.” He answered before he left to get you what you requested as you sipped on the wine that the subcontractor had left in his glass on the table.

Besides, every time you came into the "tool shed" you got comped a meal for however many hours it took for you to secure a bid. Usually the negotiations for such jobs could take a whole hour in itself, if not two or three.

But the Fluer sandwhich was your favorite thing on the menu. It had an A5 Wagyu steak cooked perfectly to your preferred tastes- medium rare, with generous slices of truffles, aoli and arugula on some fancy brioche bun. Big enough to satisfy an appetite but not so large that one felt sleepy or sluggish after eating it. It was positively delectable. Along with your favorite drink that was a favorite among all the other “tools” here. It was sweet, fruity, and practically lethal in potency because the bartenders were very generous in thier pours at the bar. It was a common practice among the bartenders here to be very genous in thier pours because the more liquored up the subcontractors and tools were, the more likely they could amicably come to a solution to the problem presented to them. And the drink countered all the dry wines or other drinks the other subcontractors ordered.

The waiter came back a little later than usual, but your drink was still ice cold and the food hot and fresh from the kitchen as the folder barely had much of anything in it.

“What in the everloving fucking hell?!” You frowned when you looked at the folder.

“Is the food or drink not up to your standards Ma'am?” The waiter asked.

“No, of course they are always excellent. But what is up with this file? Is this the cliff notes to the real thing or is he really so new that can barely fill a folder at all?” You asked rather rhetorically.

"That's all I could get from management." The waitor shrugged which earned an irritated eyeroll.

"Well thanks anyway for pulling it. I appreciate it." You thanked him as you tipped him a crisp hundred dollar bill, because while your meal was free, the waitor deserved to be paid well for thier work and discretion. Because that wine tasted expensive, like at least a grand just for a glass expensive.

You picked up the pitifully thin file up and looked through it and just frowned deeper and deeper as you read through the scant details inside of it. The "subcontractor" which that title was a big streatch for what he was- his name wasn’t ringing any bells. His face didn’t have any of the “familiar” facial features from the well known “contractor” that sent “subcontractors” who were usually direct decendants or very close compatriots here as "subcontractors"- out to get “tools”.

He had to be either a son in law or a nephew or something. Someone close but not necessarily of blood relation. Because otherwise there was nothing in this folder that suggested he should qualify as even a subcontractor and should not even been allowed to set foot into this establishment.

'Newbie indeed.' You mentally griped as a low, dangerous growl left your throat before you picked up the sandwhich and took a big bite of it and chewed it rather aggressively and not at all in a "lady like manner". But this FNG was getting on your nerves, if the FNG was even worth the suit he was wearing. He would need to clean the afterbirth off of himself and learn to act his part and do so quickly if you were going to have to do deal with him in the future. God, if he really was so new, that he couldn't grasp more than "food poisoning". You'd have to talk shop and practically hold his hand and it'd be like teaching a kindergardener- trying to teach him the "right" lingo here. Because it very much was a language all it's own. With it's own rules and slang too. And if the counter offer included a demand that you'd have to hold the FNG's hand to walk him through this process, you were going to demand twice the already generous price. You lost your patience for dealing with FNG's and newbies years ago.

You finished your meal and your drink by the time he had made it back to the room just in time for the waitor to "refresh" his wine glass with more wine.

“Did you get lost?” You asked him rather dryly, if not sarcastically as you reached your hand out for the envelope that would either be a confirmation or would be a counter offer.

“Uh, no just, um the contractor had more details for your consideration.” He answered as he handed it back to you as you opened the envelope, popping the seal with ease. You flipped a switch under the table so you could read what had been written back - under your bid for the job. Since all negotiations were always written in UV ink as it turned the purple lights on in the booth and got your own ink to glow pink and your contractor's ink to glow the usual ultraviolet color.

“Sit down.” You ordered him before he obeyed and immediately sat, very ridgidly on the couch and didn't even reach for the glass of wine as you could hear his heavy labored breathing as if he just got done running a marathon.

“Whose son in law or nephew are you? Because you're of no blood relation to the contractor and his familiy. Not unless you're the son of any number of the contractor's mistresses.” You asked him pointedly as you read over the counter offer and frowned even deeper as your coy smile was replaced with a hard, serious look instead.

“Excuse me?” He asked as he balked at your very serious question and tone.

“First off, this? Is pathetic.” You began as you lifted up his file folder before you slid it to him across the table.

“You would need ten times the experience and have way more modalities to even have you qualify as “subcontractor”. The fact that you are not just a newbie, you practically have your umbilical cord attached and afterbirth on you. So that means in order for this to be authentic- and legitimate." You held up the invitation that had been in the envelope for emphasis.

"For you to be this inexperienced but still be considered a subcontractor that is even allowed to enter the tool shed and into this particular tool box to select a tool- means you must have very considerable and serious connections. So to explain your newness- you have to be either the son of a contractor, the son in law of one or the nephew of one because other than your blood relation to the contractor, they're the only ones allowed in here without proving themselves to the establishment's management. So before I give you my answer to the counter offer, I need you to cut through all the cat and mouse bullshit and tell me who you really are and what’s really going on. Don’t start talking dirty to me now, because I sincerely doubt you know what any of it would really mean anyway.” You demanded firmly before you pulled your hold handled gun from it's holster on your hip and pointed it at him after you pushed the safety off since it was already chambered with a live round.

"You have to the count of three, one..." You began before he put his hands up in surrender.

"No! No! No! Don't shoot, you're right. I'm the son in law to the contractor!" He immediately confessed.

“Fuck, I'm not cut out for this. You're right. I have no business in here. I'm the newest of newbies. I didn't know until this afternoon I was even coming here. I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm in way over my head.” He practically blubbered as tears came to his eyes.

“Yes. My father in law is Victor Von Marriongnois. He wants me in the family business. But I had no idea just what kind or how big or all encompassing said “family business” was. And yes, this is the first time I'm doing any of this. I know that you’re an assassin that likes to go by either "a problem fixer" or a "tool" for anonymity's sake, for your safety and for mine. And that if I tried to say the wrong thing you’d kill me on the spot because of how weary all of you have to be for your own survival. Look, I’m just an accountant from IT. I'm barely able to keep up with the others on the financial team since IT and finance are so integrated now- for my fahter in law. I used to just launder money for him and his family and their businesses and probably not even half of what’s in that folder is true. It's probably just filler to make me out to be more "experienced" as whatever I'm supposed to be in here. Once I realized I fucked up, Falicia took me in for a "family meeting" to explain what I did. And I tried to fix it. But I don't know if I made it worse or what." He began to confess as you could finally see the real fear and other emotions on his face and in his voice which got you to lower your gun but still kept the safety off, just in case.

"My father in law told me that since I fucked up- that I needed to clean it up. And do it right and finish what I started. That in order to that- I needed to come to the "tool shed" to get the right tool to do so for me because I apprently didn't clean it up right or whatever. But he said all I needed to do is come in here, that a “tool” would approach me and for me to say it was “usual business” and that that would get me into a room like this and to keep an eye on the kind of pen you had because each pen apprently is unique to the tool and to tell him what the pen was so he would know which tool I got. But to otherwise not say anything else, that all I needed to do was to hand the “bid” to the tool, and the tool would either accept or decline but I was not to leave this place without getting a tool to accept it and to fix it." He continued.

"And in the worst case scenerio- that if I said "food poisoning" it would convey whatever that term is meant to convey. But it would get a serious tool to consider me and the offer seriously. I have no idea what any of that means. I’m just doing as I’m told. Because Falicia needs me to, so I’m not a liability to her, any more than I already am since she's practically royalty and I'm just a geek from nowhere but just happened to have a thing for computers and for technology and numbers and for laundering money and moving it around so it all seems legitamate." He explained.

"Falicia is her father's head accountant so we worked really closely for a lot of things and just...closeness bred fondness that grew from there. We just got married, we just got back from our honeymoon for crying out loud! But because I fucked up while we were on said honeymoon- she's in trouble and this could get her whole family and everyone she loves in trouble.” He readily confessed before you ‘oh’ed’ in understanding and put the safety back into place on your gun and reholstered it.

“Ok, that explains things. Yeah, you totally would have completely fucked up if you tried to “talk dirty” to me and you would have gotten yourself killed for doing it wrong, because people have been killed in here over less. You poor thing. Show me Falicia.” You sympathized with him as you appreciated his wedding ring and just shook your head.

But Falicia was a friend. You had dealt with her personally many times since she was her father's daughter and had a gift for her family's business. So you gladly and happily signed off on accepting the counter offer and put both thumb prints on it from each hand- to show that it was a done deal. Then put the invitation back into the envelope and you re-sealed the wax seal again and put it back into his hands as he blew a sigh of relief. Especially once he brought up his wedding pictures with his bride Falicia Von Marriongnois-Chantemont on his phone to show you as you recognized Falicia and her obvious new husband in them, and you were now relieved that you didn't have to kill him, just because he was a newbie who just happened to know he was in way over his head. You got to learn that this subcontractor-Falicia’s husband- was indeed Thomas Chantemont and the two did look really happy, both for the wedding and all the other pictures he had of the both them on his phone as you could see how long the relationship had been going on since the man had pictures of the two of them going back for over a year. But Falicia never talked personal life and details in here. Always only business, which you appreciated.

“Well, it's a good thing you said "food poisoning". Because to the Von Marriongnois, that's something very, very serious. And I would hate for any member of that family to fall ill. Tell Falicia that Valincia is going to take care of it and that, as always, I have her back. I take it this is to cover up the fact that you and her got into a little too much trouble and got caught or at least photographed doing it?” You guessed as you nodded to the envelope.

“Yeah. I had to do some “business” on our honeymoon and I- like the literally drunken idiot used the hotel’s wifi to do it. So my internet traffic practically had to use a public highway and of course it got spotted. Stupid, rookie mistake. Hindsight is 20/20 I guess.” He admitted as you sucked in a breath between your teeth as you grimaced.

“Yikes. Yeah. That counts as food poisoning. And Falicia is Victor's favorite daughter. I can't imagine the hoops you had to jump through to get her to be your bride. Well at least you’re sweet and honest, which is a very big rarity. Especially in this business. And is probably why she likes you and loves you enough to trust you to be a big boy about this and deal with this yourself. You manned up. I'm sure she's very proud of you, as is your father in law. Good for you. I’m happy for you both. So, as a favor to Falicia, I’m going to do you a favor and give you some pointers on how to clean that afterbirth off of you because of how much of a newbie you are to all of this. If you ever have to come into this place again, or any other “tool shed” again. Because many contractors use many tools in many toolboxes and may have multiple tool sheds- right?” You explained metaphorically as he slowly nodded in understanding.

“Next time, heaven forbid, you have to come in here and do this again- first, ask your father in law for the opportunity to look at the catalog for the toolshed and toolbox of his choice. Because, he– as a “contractor”- is allowed to have one for every tool box in every toolshed available to him. And you- as one of his “subcontractors” as brand new to this as you are- are allowed to be familiar with it too- if you so choose to be, that is. If not, that’s ok, and I’m sure Falicia would be happier if her husband wasn’t “talking dirty” to another woman, or even another guy, even if it’s metaphorically speaking. Each tool in said catalog will list what each tool is best for what purpose and which tool specializes in what. You don’t send a scalpel to hammer in a nail, right? You follow?” You explained.

“Yes Ma’am.” He nodded.

“Good. Next, if you ever have to do this again, memorize the catalog to the point that you know who are the tried and true, who are the new tools, but most importantly- which ones are the untested tools. Because they haven’t been used so they’re cheaper but they’re a gamble if they’ll get the job done and not leave a bigger mess and more problems than you were trying to fix and clean up by using them in the first place. You still with me?” You asked.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“And the way you can tell that- is look at what they're wearing- simple jewels- newer tools that haven't had a whole lot of experience, the bigger the jewelry or the bigger the bling, especially if it's the real thing and not fucking cubic zirconia stained red to imitate a ruby- the more expensive the tool will cost to use. But usually the better quality of work they do. But this was not "usual business" this really was serious and potentially deadly. So you got lucky by catching my interest and I'm sure Falicia will be relieved to know that I will be handling this for her personally. I've taken bullets for her before in the past and I'll pass through hail, rain, sleet, snow, magma, whatever- for her and for her familiy. But in the future- If you need "a snake in the grass", you should also know to not send a black mamba when a garden snake will do. You still follow? The right tool for the right job. Each tool in here- to you and to the untrained eye- they may all look alike. But trust me, some of us have gained a little speck of rust here and there, some of us are very shiny, either because we polish ourselves to mirror finish or are shiny because we’ve never been used before, much less, just fresh out of the box and brand new to the tool box and the tool shed. And if you’re going to be a real subcontractor, and a regular one at that- you’ll need to learn the difference between us all. And usually, the more disastrous the problem, the more tools you’ll need to fix it and the more sophisticated those tools will need to be to fix it too because your problems may not be just a leak in a pipe causing mold. It may need tools from carpentry, drywall and plumbing in addition to hazmat for the mold. You still with me?” You furthered.

“Yes.” He nodded.

"Next thing. Especially if you’re the person who fucked up and made a mess and are sent into this toolshed to find the right tools to fix it. But even if it’s not your problem, if the contractor trusts you enough to be their subcontractor to come into this tool shed and into this tool box to select a tool. Open up the bid or offer- whichever term you prefer- to read it yourself. Because sometimes some contractors will slip extra things into it- and either won’t tell you to protect you so you can claim that you had no idea what you were doing or what you were involved with if what we do in the shadows ever comes into the light." You advised him.

"But mostly, because you're Falicia's husband, you probably got a pass on this one because of how close and entrenched into the family you are and will continue to be. But I’ve also seen when subcontractors fuck up bad enough, that they are sent into a particular tool shed that’s really more of a slaughterhouse. And the bid is really to actually kill the messenger." You warned him, because for Falicia's sake, you felt he was owed that much at least.

"So that kind of blind faith and blind obedience can get you killed when it's not earning you faith and trust from your father in law or in this case- your contractor. It almost did tonight because even though you followed protocol, because you were so new, I almost thought you were a trap sent in here to try to snare either myself or any of the other tools and when i saw your father in law's seal, I worried that the whole familiy had already been compromised and completely poisoned by that food poisoning and I didn't want that to cross contaminate this place. This is our place of business, this is where we earn a living and every tool shed that has to shut down, the tools, when they're not caught in the crossfire, have to be shuffled and sent to other tool sheds to keep them as tools. Which is again, very dangerous and obviously deadly. But I'm telling you this because it has happened in the past and it can happen again. Which I'm sure Falicia and her father could tell you all kinds of stories about. So, again, if you ever have to do this again, know the job, so you select the right tool. Because there are some tools here that flock to amatures and take advantage of their inexperience to ask for more pay, more perks from the establishment, more everything just to get ahead and fatten up their own bottom lines at your expense. And Falicia is my friend and I would never dream of doing her or her family dirty just because you’re brand new baby level of new to this. Ok?” You emphasized.

“Right, makes sense.” He nodded in understanding.

“Also, if and when you learn how to first- talk shop- meaning you- plainly talk about the problem and plainly ask for solutions. There are some tools that don’t even like talking shop. They prefer to “talk dirty” in euphemism and metaphor, because talking plain shop can make people uneasy. Because usually plants will talk plain shop because when they can’t talk dirty and talk dirty right- their lives are on the line. And they are just in this tool box looking for a dirty tool. So when you have graduated from talking shop to “talking dirty”, make sure you can speak it fluently and make sure you completely and fully understand what each thing means. And don’t let your mouth make promises that you- as a subcontractor and not a full contractor yourself, have the authority to offer or say in the first place. I’ve seen too many subcontractors just trying to secure enough tools for “a build” or “a repair” or “a problem” that they weren’t authorized to say or offer. And it costed the contractor way too much than the subcontractor themselves were worth. which lead to those subcontractor's demise. Hopefully this is the one and only time we ever have to meet in person and face to face unless I'm pulled into to act as your shield to protect you and Falicia and any little kiddos you may have along the way. But if you do ever get to have the privilege to come in here again, look for me if I’m not otherwise occupied. Now that I know your face and your connection. We can build rapport with each other and learn to trust each other for a more fruitful working relationship." You offered your hand for him to shake.

“Thank you. I’ll tell Falicia you said hi and tell her that you told all me this as a favor to her, which I'm sure she'll appreciate because my father in law only told me just enough to get me in here, and it was like plunging a kid into the deep end of the pool to see if I would sink or swim." He admitted as his blush started to fade and he reached for his wine and gulped it down.

"But, wait, if you’re such good friends, how come you didn’t come to the wedding?” He asked as an afterthought.

“Did you have all of your computers and laptops lined up at the wedding or reception to show everyone there how you laundered all that money for them and exactly which computers you used to do it with?” You asked with a tilt of your head and a sympathetic grin.

“Ah, I see. No. No I didn’t.” He shook his head no.

“Same thing. Tools should be kept safe from the weather and elements in a toolbox and in a tool shed until they need to be used. It’s safer for everyone involved. Thus- why contractors have subcontractors- it gives everyone a sense of safe anonymity. Usually the only times the tools see the contractors themselves- is when there’s a problem big enough they need the whole toolbox and the whole tool shed to fix. Because remember, tool sheds can hold many, many tool boxes and each tool box is for usually reserved to fix various kinds of work- like how a plumber's tool box is specifically stocked with special plumbing tools. Just like there are carpentry tools, drywall tools, roofing tools, plumbing tools, same thing. And then there are just “general tools” that you can use for anything and everything. And it takes a lot for a tool to be counted trustworthy and universally applicable enough to make it to that utility tool belt if you catch my drift.” You explained.

“I see, so, just out of curiosity, if I had needed to "talk dirty" to you about this, what would I have said?” He asked curiously.

“You would have said "That we should get on a plane and go to a five star all inclusive resort and get room service with a view and ask for our room to be scrubbed extra clean because the last maid got sloppy with the room service and you have to watch out for food poisoning.” You answered.

“Oohh.” He nodded.

“Ok, that makes sense, I think.” He answered as he blinked a few times as he gave his brain a moment to process that.

“Well, it was a pleasure to do business with you. As always please send my thanks and regards to your father in law and of course to your divinely gorgeous bride Falicia. And stay in the honeymoon phase as long as you can. And try not to make any more mistakes, especially of the "stupid" variety. Especially onces that could lead to the whole family getting food poisoning if you catch my drift.” You offered. Then you stood, which prompted him to stand with you and you firmly shook his hand and left the booth, while the busboy quickly cleaned the room and got it ready to be put back into use by another subcontractor.

You got his pocket square from the doorway's number and folded it in a peculiar way, because how it was folded and placed into the pocket also had meaning to the contractor.

“Don’t forget to grab a bite to eat and get another drink for the road before you go. If this place was a public restaurant, it would get a 3 Michilan star rating. Most subcontractors usually eat before they get down to business.” You offered to him as you gestured to the bar and the variety of tables below you that various other members were enjoying a meal at.

“Will do. Thanks again Valincia.” He offered as he shook your hand again which got you to giggle. Oh sweet innocent thing he was.

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #starsandskieskinktober #starsandskies #Kinktober Day 3 #Kinktober Day 3 Dirty Talk

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crazydreamercycle · 2 years

Text

A catalogue of names that are just straight up normal words

Female

Acacia

Amber

Amethyst

Amity

Anemone

Anise

April

Aria

Aspen

Aster

Aura

Aurora

Autumn

Avalon

Avril (April, French)

Azalea

Azure

Bee

Beryl

Blanche (White, French)

Blondie

Blossom

Brandy

Bunny

Burgundy

Cadence

Calanthe

Calla

Camellia

Candy

Caprice

Chalice

Charisma

Charity

Chastity

Cherish

Cherry

Clarity

Clematis

Clemency

Columbine

Comfort

Coral

Coriander

Crystal

Daffodil

Dahlia

Daisy

Dawn

Delight

Delta

Destiny

Diamond

Dot

Dove

Dream

Easter

Ebony

Eglantine

Emerald

Epiphany

Essence

Fae

Faith

Fancy

Fawn

Felicity

Fern

Flower

Gay

Genesis

Genie

Gill

Ginger

Glory

Grace

Harmony

Hazel

Heather

Heaven

Holly

Honey

Honour

Hope

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Jacinth

Jasmine

Jonquil

Journey

Joy

July

June

Kay

Kitty

Lacy

Lark

Laurel

Lavender

Liberty

Lilac

Lily

Lotus

Love

Magnolia

Maple

Marigold

May

Meadow

Melody

Mercy

Merry

Minty

Miracle

Missy

Misty

Modesty

Monday

Myrtle

Nan

Nanny

Olive

Opal

Paisley

Pansy

Patience

Peace

Pearl

Pen

Penny

Peony

Petal

Petunia

Piety

Piper

Pleasance

Poppy

Porsche

Posy

Precious

Primrose

Princess

Prissy

Queen

Rainbow

Rose

Rosemary

Rosy

Royalty

Ruby

Rue

Sapphire

Scarlet

Scout

Serenity

Shell

Sherry

Sienna

Spirit

Spring

Star

Sue

Summer

Sunshine

Symphony

Tansy

Tawny

Teal

Temperance

Tempest

Tiara

Topaz

Treasure

Trinity

Unique

Unity

Velvet

Verity

Violet

Willow

Winter

Male

Ace

Archer

Art

August

Baker

Bishop

Blaze

Brand

Brock

Bud

Buddy

Buster

Case

Cash

Chance

Chip

Chuck

Clair (Light/clear, French)

Clay

Clement

Cliff

Colt

Constant

Coy

Crew

Curt

Dane

Deacon

Dean

Den

Drake

Duke

Dutch

Earl

Earnest

Fisher

Fletcher

Flint

Ford

Forest

Foster

Fox

Frank

Garland

Gene

Gore

Grant

Gray

Grey

Griffin

Gunner

Guy

Hale

Hall

Hardy

Heath

Herb

Jack

Junior

Kelvin

King

Kip

Lane

Legend

Leo

Major

Mark

Marshal

Mason

Mat

Merit

Messiah

Miles

Moss

Newt

Noble

Norm

Pace

Peers

Peregrine

Pierce

Piers

Placid

Porter

Prince

Prosper

Ray

Read

Red

Reed

Rich

Ridge

Rob

Rocky

Rod

Roman

Rusty

Satchel

Scott

Shaw

Shepherd

Sly

Smith

Sonny

Spike

Stan

Sterling

Stew

Stone

Tad

Talon

Tanner

Teddy

Tiger

Trace

Van

Walker

Ward

Webster

Will

Wilt

Wolf

Woody

Wright

Unisex

Alpha

Angel

Ash

Berry

Blessing

Briar

Brook

Carol

Cat

Cedar

Christmas

Cyan

Dell

Derby

Dusty

Flick

Fortune

Gale

Garnet

Happy

Harper

Haven

Haze

Honor

Hunter

Indigo

Jade

Jewel

Justice

Kit

Lake

Lucky

Max

Merle

Noel

Ocean

Page

Patsy

Phoenix

Praise

Prudence

Rain

Raven

Reign

River

Rowan

Royal

Sage

Sandy

September

Sequoia

Silver

Sky

Sparrow

Storm

Sunday

Sunny

Temple

Wisdom

#names

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

You said it yourself… —the demon interjected, taking, to the woman's surprise, her face in one of his hands —I pledged allegiance to someone. But I know that this is not what you and your master expect... Nor what I myself desire...

Ruby's eyes widened when, before she could even notice it, the butler's pale, cold lips had placed, just subtly, on her own painted dark magenta. Without any of them noticing it, two men had watched that scene, discreetly hidden behind a leafy tree, while the only woman who accompanied them, with a wide smile adorning her snowy face, and tried to preserve every detail. of it, immortalize it, on video***.

Notes:

End of this very special two-shot Crossover for my beautiful friends Rose Zoldyck, Liz Leyva Mariscal and Monse Michaelis-san!

And here go the pertinent notes:

*I decided to use the English names of the Cards, simply because they sounded rather unpleasant to my ear, or inconsistent with the text, in Spanish.

**Those who have read the first part, which I will attach again when I upload this file, to make the assignment easier, will remember that, at the end of it, it is mentioned that Ciel has already discovered his butler's feelings for Ruby.

***Finally, was it possible to include Tomoyo in a story without her top two fetishes? I mean, the extravagant outfits and, above all, his healthy habit of filming everything on her camera?

Chapter 9: This Will Be Goodbye, See You Forever

Summary:

Weekly Challenge

Two—Member Sentences (or how to write without one—member sentences)

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji—SCC (Crossover)

Title: This Will Be A Goodbye, See You Forever...

Ships: SebastianxRuby, EriolxTomoyo

Characters: Sakura, Syaoran, Ciel Phantomhive, OC.

Synopsis: Ciel had always believed his butler to be a man completely devoid of emotions and feelings. Until he made perhaps the biggest mistake of his immortal existence. Sebastian fell madly in love with a woman who, although endowed with superhuman abilities like those he himself possessed, was sadly condemned to the cruel fate of disappearing once the one who had created her exhaled his last breath.

Warnings: AU. OoC. Character Death. Magic. Demons

Chapter Text

Hiiragizawa Mansion, London

Ruby Moon was sitting next to her master's large bed, as he lay completely still, as if in some kind of induced sleep. The woman with straight hair and maroon eyes didn't know who had plunged him into it, or if it was even a spell. Eriol was an extremely powerful wizard and both she and her partner, Spinel Sun, were more than aware of it. He had created them, after all. The door to the room opened suddenly and very slowly, still snapping Ruby out of her thoughts, and a low, male voice that by now was not only familiar but comforting asked, unable to suppress the concern in it if she was planning on staying there longer. The crimson—lipped Guardian raised her garnet orbs to the piercing crimson ones of the man standing sentinel at the door of the room, waving at him to invite him in. Sebastian Michaelis, Ciel Phantomhive's butler, wasn't there just for the sake of visiting that woman. In fact, precisely his master had sent him on a 'special mission' (because it hadn't been entrusted to him by Queen Victoria), after receiving a somewhat alarming message from Eriol's wife, Tomoyo Daidöuji, informing him of the situation of the British sorcerer.

—You can't stay like this, Ruby—san... He wouldn't take it... And I don't need to have known him for 20 years to vouch for my words...

The redhead saw him brush the index and middle fingers of his right hand over the stone in the ring on his left hand and only then did she realize that his features looked even paler than they naturally were. Ruby widened her maroon eyes as she slowly approached the butler and, laying a hand on his face, she stated with an accusing and concerned scowl on her face and her tone of voice:

—Eriol isn't the only one, I should have guessed. Tell me the truth, Sebastian; you know what's happening, don't you?

—Ruby—san, I think you should know by now that I can't lie. And that includes you from now on. The young master sent me to see you because there is something you should know...

The black—haired, crimson—eyed man let out a deep breath that, for a moment, alarmed Ruby. The woman had verified that Sebastian could be hurt; although not precisely by conventional weapons or methods. Her eyes widened and she winced at the thought of imagining that somehow the spell, or whatever was affecting her master, could also have some sort of effect on the crimson—eyed demon. Her fear was only intensified by the thought that, most likely, the magic she had given him in the ring he wore on his left hand might have had something to do with it. Ruby reacted suddenly when she noticed that Michaelis had moved away from her, slowly making his way to Eriol's bed, where the sorcerer was sound asleep. His left hand, devoid of the white glove he used to wear as part of his uniform, rested on the pale—skinned, raven—haired British man's forehead and the butler shook his head, letting out another sigh. Minutes later, Ruby saw him flinch conspicuously, as if a sudden chill had seized him, and immediately she moved closer to him. The woman arched an eyebrow as she realized that the tremors only intensified once Michaelis removed his hand from Hiiragizawa's face, almost impulsively bringing it to his forehead. An exclamation between astonished and confused escaped from his lips, at the same time that his crimsons subtly opened accompanying said gesture, recognizing that sensation in his own face, and even in his chest, that he remembered having perceived in his master and in his fiancée —his current wife— on more than one occasion.

—Sebastian... Ruby called, as concern grew in her with each passing second, —what's wrong? Tell me something please...

The demon put his hand to his chest and closed his eyes for a few moments, as if trying to regulate his breathing. This, however, was as unsteady as his pulse; which only alarmed him exponentially. Long, agonizing minutes passed until he began to feel that unbearable heat slowly fade away, though he didn't expect what happened next. The hand previously on his chest suddenly went up to his face covering his lips as he began to cough uncontrollably. The once neat, white glove on his hand quickly turned a red even deeper than his eyes. Alarmed, Ruby approached the butler once more, pulling him away from the bed and holding his shoulders. Ignoring the woman in front of him for the moment, Michaelis brushed her hand away from his face and turned his crimson gaze slightly toward the raven—haired wizard.

—Ruby...go away, please. I don't know what's going on here, but I have a feeling you'll be in danger if you stay...

The woman wouldn't allow herself to leave him there in such conditions. She couldn't just abandon him; neither to him, much less to her master. However, she was aware that she had to do something soon. Therefore, she decided to visit the only people who might be able to help her at that time. And she wasn't thinking of one of the other Guardians, but actually Sakura and Syaoran. She glanced back at Eriol and then once more at Sebastian, asking him where his room was so she could leave him there to rest. The butler shook his head as he held on to her, stating that he couldn't abandon her master. However, he also had to admit that he could barely stand on his feet at the moment. Ruby lifted her garnet eyes slightly to the wide sofa a little way from her master's bed and, turning her gaze once more to Michaelis, she simply motioned for him to hold on to her. Knowing there would be no convincing her otherwise, the butler agreed to Eriol's Guardian's request without offering the slightest hint of protest. Although, even when he was in top form, which he was most of the time, such attitudes weren't at all common to him. Normally, it was he himself, or some other member of the service, who had to demand that his master rested when the situation warranted it.

—I'll bring you some tea... —the garnet—eyed woman mentioned after laying the dark—haired man on the sofa in the room —Tomoyo must have already prepared it. You are British; I doubt you are oblivious to those customs...

Sebastian allowed himself to smile at Ruby's statement, pointing out that, in this case, it was more of a habit to combat insomnia. Although, he wasn't sure why, but he didn't imagine Mrs. Hiiragizawa as someone who suffered from that kind of sleep disorder. His master Ciel, on the contrary, was; or at least he had been for about 10 years. And, unfortunately, his job wouldn't allow that disorder to disappear overnight. Ruby nodded, asking him once more to try to rest and reiterating that she would go get Eriol a cup of tea as well. She was afraid that the fever would cause him to wake up in the middle of the night.

—I know you will try to find a solution to this problem... —the demon stated, causing an exclamation of surprise to escape from the woman's lips. —I doubt any of them will dare to return, but... Just take care of yourself, please...

Ruby kissed the demon's pale lips ever so subtly and, almost as if he had a bad feeling about her, Sebastian felt an intense shiver run down his spine as soon as he saw her move away from him. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his suddenly ragged breathing, and also to erase that thought from his mind. However, he didn't imagine how close to reality he would be.

Li—Kinomoto Residence, Hong Kong

Li Syaoran was in the residence he shared with his wife, Sakura Kinomoto, accompanied only by one of his Guardians at the time; Yue, the Judge of the Moon. The sorcerer with hazel hair and honey—coloured eyes could tell, even without meeting the albino's eyes that something seemed to bother him, although, for the moment, he chose not to question him about it. Until it was the creature with an angelic appearance and bluish and feline eyes who noticed the insistent and penetrating gaze of the Chinese sorcerer on him and, slowly turning around until he was facing him, commented with his usual impassiveness:

—I guess you've noticed too, Syaoran, right? It won't be long before his life is gone. And we both know what that means...

The brunette nodded, admitting anyway that he had a strange feeling that Hiiragizawa's death wouldn't just mean the disappearance of Ruby and Spinel. An exclamation of surprise from a female voice behind Li's back caused both the sorcerer and Yue to turn towards the entrance of the room. Standing pale and with crystalline garnet eyes, Ruby Moon practically demanded that the Moon Judge explained himself. How he knew that Eriol would die soon. And that he had meant that it wouldn't be just them that would disappear when that happened. Not even flinching, the albino asked if she had given the present that Eriol created for her to her 'mate'. The maroon—haired creature nodded, still not fully understanding where he intended to go with that question. Until, after a couple of seconds, she realized the somewhat strange attitude, so to speak, of Sebastian since he visited her in her master's mansion.

—You shouldn't worry about him... —Yue pointed out —Unlike any of us, humans and magical creatures, his existence is eternal, even after having fulfilled the purpose for which he was invoked. By giving him that ring, with your magic embedded in it, Eriol only hoped that Michaelis would reciprocate your feelings; however, I fear that Hiiragizawa himself is unaware of the consequences of what he truly intended to do. Although, on second thought, there is a possibility that someone outside of us, and I mean us and the butler, has intervened without us noticing... Do you know if Phantomhive, and obviously Michaelis, have enemies capable of something similar?

Ruby considered the Shinigami for a moment. However, Sebastian had mentioned to her that their only duty was to collect souls. Although it was true that they also had a unique method of damaging him, unlike what would happen with any conventional human weapon. And they could even see into his past if they wanted to. However, she still didn't believe that such a thing could leave him in the state he was currently in. In fact, he gave the impression that he was nothing more than a human being fighting for his life. Again, and widening her eyes at her own insinuations, she wondered if what was afflicting both Eriol and Sebastian had exactly that purpose; that is, to deprive them of their abilities, or, in other words, to reduce them to ordinary human beings. The Guardian decided to discuss her doubts with her friends. After all, that was the reason for her visit. Once her partner finished speaking, Yue brought his left hand to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. The Moon Judge remained for several seconds in a silence that even Syaoran found uncomfortable; himself a naturally calm and reserved man. However, and why deny it, the Chinese sorcerer was also worried, and even anxious at the moment.

—Speak, please, Yue... —Li asked, precisely, after a couple of minutes. —What's happening? What are you thinking about?

—I met many wizards when we lived with Clow Reed, Syaoran. However, I have also met beings that had little to do with magic. There was a woman whom I don't know whether to call a sorceress or a witch, but she had a habit that was as strange as it was dangerous. Ruby, do you have any idea how that butler got into young Phantomhive?

—Ciel offered, or was forced to offer his twin brother as a sacrifice to a cult. Wait... Tell me you're not thinking about...?

—As far as I remember, her name is Madame Raven. And I'm afraid if you asked him, Michaelis would be able to tell you more about it. After all, she is a millennial being, as is him; he hasn't been the only demon in her service. But he had been the only one who must have dared to break his pact with her...

Ruby didn't reply. However, Yue's words left many questions running through her mind. Was there something else Eriol was hiding from her, besides the fact that he had known the Phantomhive's butler, and obviously his master, for over 20 years? And, on the other hand, was Ciel aware of that other dark secret of his butler?

Meanwhile, in a place that was not only remote, but also practically taken straight out of a horror story, stood an enormous palace that looked even older than the mansions that Eriol and Ciel lived in in London. The place, surrounded by dense forests of leafy bushes and trees that hid any vestige of light that might dare to sneak through its branches, housed a solitary lady who was as beautiful as she was mysterious. She had straight purple hair down to her waist, with a single silver strand hiding her right eye, snowy skin set off by her angry lipstick lips and amber eyes. She was sitting in a luxurious antique gold chair upholstered in black velvet. On her left armrest rested an immense cat with silky black fur and curious heterochromatic orbs. Its right eye was amber; the left, amethyst. The woman caressed the feline's back absently until she heard the door to the living room open almost cautiously. As if the person on the other end was afraid of her, or at least they didn't want to disturb her. Madame Raven, however, was aware that this was not the case. She called out to the man waiting at the entrance and simply asked, a sarcastic smile gracing his features, if he, too, would keep to the damned habit of not knocking before entering.

—And you will keep the damned habit of using beings like us to preserve your eternal youth? Shall I remind you that there is only one way we can stay here without being seen?

The man, curiously similar to Sebastian Michaelis except for his amber eyes and feline appearance, didn't even hesitate to stop right in front of the woman's face, take her left hand without any decorum and brush his thin fingers against the onyx stone embedded on the ring in her middle finger. He himself wore a similar ring; however, he was not her slave, but, on the contrary, he was the one who kept her alive. Raven was however someone extremely powerful in the world of the dark arts. Even though she had a single weakness; and so she had agreed to accept the conditions of the man next to her. Over the centuries that she had managed to extend her existence, she had done so by 'feeding', so to speak, on the abilities of whatever demon or magical creature had agreed to consort her. Only two people had dared to reject her; the former had been dead for more than two centuries, while the latter was now the servant – or faithful dog, as the lady used to call him – of a man of the British aristocracy. And it was, precisely, the latter of which she truly wanted revenge. On the other hand, she was unaware that Clow Reed had incarnated in modern England. She snapped back to reality when the ebony—haired man announced that he was leaving. He didn't even bother to bow as he turned his back on her, only to walk seconds later to the door he hadn't closed all the way. The woman gave him a sidelong glance and arched one of her fine, dark eyebrows, however, she didn't say anything. She knew what he would do; where he would go. However, she didn't plan to stop him simply because she was also aware of how that story would end.

Hiiragizawa Mansion

"As soon as he closed his eyes that night, Sebastian had that strange recurring dream again, and one he had never mentioned a word about to his master. It wasn't really a dream, but rather a scene from his past. Centuries before his encounter with the Phantomhive heir. On that occasion, however, nothing he saw resembled what he had previously experienced. In fact, the images felt and looked too real to be a dream. He was standing under an intense storm, while he observed in the distance a figure that even from afar seemed familiar to him in a certain way, approaching him with great calm. Michaelis opened his crimson eyes with undisguised astonishment when he found himself before those ambers that, definitely, reminded him of someone he had known a long time ago. Someone he had, in fact, thought to be dead, since, unlike him and despite not being an ordinary human being, he wasn't an immortal being either. Without introducing himself, the stranger bowed to the butler, to then remove the ring in his hand and, carefully observing the ring that the demon was wearing at that moment, finally speaking:

—Does Raven know that this is the reason you rejected her? For falling in love with Clow Reed's Guardian? And don't ask how I know, Sebastian; that ring gives you away, as much as the one I wear on my right hand does me. Except I can't go back to who I was before I made a deal with her. You must if you intend to save her. And we both know what that means...

—And you know that I can't and I shouldn't break the pact I made with that young man. Even though he has fulfilled his revenge, I am not willing to abandon him... Much less to take his soul; I just can't do it... And no; I rejected it because I wouldn't have allowed myself to take the soul of someone who has only harmed so many beings like us as have passed in front of her. Call it compassion, but that's my reason...

As he left, the other dark—haired man was thankful that he hadn't revealed his name. Something not even the woman knew about, simply because he didn't think it was necessary for his job to reveal that information to him. Michaelis smiled, pointing out that he would never reveal his own brother's dark secret. Besides, he barely remembered his own name at this point; to him, his identity would always be that of Sebastian, Ciel Phantomhive's butler. And so he would remain until the end of his life."

Sebastian's eyes snapped open, clutching a hand to his chest, instinctively looking down at his left hand. Indeed, next to the ring Ruby gave him was the one he received in his dream. The demon knew perfectly well why that ring had been given to him by the guardian rather than a servant of Madame Raven; he was hoping that with it he would save Clow —or his incarnation—, without the woman realizing it. And assuming, in this way, the direct consequence of losing his immortality, but not his demonic powers. He couldn't however allow Ruby to suffer a loss as great as her master's; after all, and although he had struggled to admit it for years, he himself would be sorry if something similar happened to Ciel. He shook his head, slowly getting up from the couch Ruby had left him lying on, and walked over to Eriol's bed once more. He removed the ring containing Ruby's magic from his hand. As he placed the jewel in the British sorcerer's slightly sweaty hand, he murmured to himself, trying to maintain his usual impassiveness:

—I beg you to excuse me with my master, and of course with Ruby, but I fear that this situation cannot continue like this, Eriol—san. If I must sacrifice my life, or my immortal existence, to ensure that she and my master are safe and well, then I will not hesitate for a moment to do so... Goodbye, Clow...

He left the place in complete silence and, with the same stealth, he entered his beloved's room. Walking over to her bed, trying not to wake her, Sebastian placed a barely subtle kiss on the woman's lips and, for the first time in centuries, allowed himself to shed a single tear before walking away. He wouldn't say goodbye to Ciel or the rest of the Phantomhive mansion members; he just couldn't do it.

The young Earl only learned of the bitter fate of that demon who had served him for 30 years when, on one occasion when he was having tea with Elizabeth —which, curiously, had been served by Mey—Rin, his maid— Ruby showed up at his mansion with tears in her eyes. When the indigo—haired man asked what had happened, and if she had news of Sebastian, the Guardian of Clow approached him, handing him the pocket watch that the Phantomhive's own butler had given Michaelis upon his arrival at the mansion, as well as the onyx ring that Yue and Syaoran found when they found his body. And whose origin they didn't know; although now it was most likely that this secret would never be revealed. Phantomhive raised his one visible, sky—coloured eye to the woman's garnet ones and said, as Elizabeth clung to him tightly as she realized what had happened:

—He decided that, before leaving this world after fulfilling the purpose for which he was summoned, he would give his life for the only person he had truly loved. Now, you must try to fulfil his will and never abandon your master...

Ruby didn't say anything. Like Elizabeth's emerald orbs, her garnet ones were misted with tears. Tears the woman wasn't sure when they would stop. Although, deep inside her, she was certain that, wherever he was, Michaelis would be with her. And that, until the time came for their reunion, her love and her friends should be the most important thing to her. She looked back at Ciel, smiled slightly at him and, bowing, left to go back to her friends.

Chapter 10: A Love For Eternity

Summary:

#BeMyCrack

Phase 4: Unexpected

Prompt: A is able to see all the timelines in which he exists. In most, the other versions of him are in a relationship with B. SU B, however, has not been in his life for a long time.

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Title: A Love For Eternity

Ship: SebastianxGrell

Characters: Ciel Phantomhive, Elizabeth Midford

Warnings: Angst. Time—Skip. (Implied) Death of Major Character. AU. Magic

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Since he could remember, he had had that strange ability that allowed him to observe each and every one of his past lives, even without being present in that timeline. Because, truth was, that he wasn't an ordinary human being, even though that was what he appeared to be. He was a sorcerer born with that peculiarity that he considered a curse rather than a gift now. Why? Because at least every time he managed to move through timelines, he could be with his beloved. In his current reality, she had been out of his life since six years ago. He had made perhaps the biggest mistake an immortal could make. Falling in love with a woman whose life would vanish even faster than a candlestick's flame. That wasn't the worst that could happen, though. This kind of time skip only occurred when he was sound asleep, as if it were a dream. And until now, there had been few times in which he had managed to reunite with his beloved Grell.

He wasn't a man who found it easy to fall asleep. That night, however, he fell fast asleep in the huge chair in front of the fireplace in his room. He squeezed his eyes shut when the first image in his mind was that of himself next to a beautiful woman with curious crimson hair and green eyes who looked at him in surprise, as if she had never seen someone like him in her life.

It was a cold afternoon in those lands where the eternal snow bathed the mountains. Two figures stood before the huge window of that ancient house. She, a young woman who must have been barely 20 years old, slender, with long crimson hair, almost pale skin and bright jade eyes. He, on the other hand, was a man who barely looked the same age as her, when in fact he had surpassed little more than two centuries of existence. Taller and slenderer than the woman next to him (and who was admiring him in awe), Sebastian Michaelis had black hair, pale skin, and eyes the same reddish hue as his companion's hair. Grell Sutcliff glanced at him for the umpteenth time and just barely before asking once more, and with clear reproach in her voice, why he had agreed to stay by her side.

Sebastian never answered. He could never answer. He couldn't confess to a human being whom he had, in effect, been ordered to protect, that he had fallen head over heels in love with her. But that, if he were to correspond to those feelings, both would die. He froze when he felt Grell's hands grab onto his left arm and then he heard the woman murmur that she loved him.

He opened his eyes suddenly, rising from the awkward position in which he had fallen asleep, sitting across from his desk. He was usually alone whenever those dreams, memories, or whatever they were came back to him. At that moment and to his utter horror, he discovered that the young couple who inhabited the old Victorian mansion were back from their trip to Scotland. And that the woman, with blonde curls and jade eyes, was staring at him with a concerned expression.

—You should go... Both of you...

The boy, with neck—length indigo hair and sky blue eyes looked at him with an expression of obvious suspicion, arching an eyebrow.

—Do you hate humans so much that you can't stand having one around? We live in this mansion, in case you've forgotten...

Sebastian stood up, categorically ignoring the words of this young man who, if he was to be honest, he considered pedantic. And even he considered that he was too much for the girl next to him. He went up the stairs to the upper floor of the mansion and, seconds later, a door slammed from the office where he used to lock himself up. Using his powers, he made sure that neither of the two 'brats' could enter. No one but he and whoever sent him to that mansion could break the spell with which he sealed the doors. Or the one that he kept the mansion invisible to any ordinary being in the first place. In other words, to any unsuspecting passer—by, that property didn't exist. Instead, there was only one forest of so many that could be found in the Scottish Lowlands*.

In the solitude of that room, as spacious as the rest of the rooms in the mansion, he again felt tiredness invade him and, as soon as he closed his eyes, a new memory came to his mind.

She had lost the glint and grace of her crimson strands and jade orbs almost completely while, kneeling under the heavy rain, Sebastian held her nearly limp body against him. He wouldn't dare cry. He wasn't supposed to. In the first place, he should have never taken what was only planned as a bond between guardian and protégé to the extreme that both had eventually and inevitably led it to. Because, to his misfortune, loving each other was inevitable from the first moment the black—haired man appeared before Grell. Michaelis cursed that his master prevented him from confessing his identity to that woman from the first meeting with her. Was he expecting that ending? Would it be the same with every human being he dared to fall in love with from that moment on? Because there was something he was sure of; now that Grell had taught him what love was, he would no longer try to run from it when he found it again.

Ciel and Elizabeth, sitting in front of the fireplace in the living room, were alarmed by the piercing scream coming from the room in which Sebastian had locked himself moments before. Oblivious to the fact that he had secured the doors with his magic, they made their way quickly.

Upon arrival, they tried to open the door and, finding it apparently closed, Elizabeth looked at her husband in alarm. To which the indigo haired man denied clenching her fists to the sides of her body.

—It will be impossible for us to enter...

The curly—haired woman said, with sadness and concern evident in her voice. That, until she noticed her husband reaching out her hand, on whose ring finger she had a ring that she remembered seeing before. But not in Ciel's hands. She covered her face upon discovering that, in fact, it belonged to the dark—haired man. The ebony—haired man shook his head in a gesture for her to be silent and not question him about it, and then subtly knocked on the door with the curious ebony—purple stone. As he had imagined, it undid the spell placed on the door, but not the one that hid the house. Although this little mattered to him. Both of their eyes widened as they found the dark—haired man lying on the burgundy rug in the living room. He was holding in his left hand a small golden dagger that Ciel had never seen before, although he completely ignored that, focusing instead on what he had done with it. Ciel was the first to squat in front of him and take the blade in his hands, moving it to a side of him, to then raise the dark—haired man's chin so that he could see his eyes. His once bright crimson orbs had begun to dim. Still, he managed to focus his gaze on the sky—coloured orbs of the boy in front of him long enough to leave him his last words:

—I remember you... you asked me if I hated you humans enough to not have you around...I wouldn't...do something so stupid like killing myself if I did, would I?

He let out one last – and pitiful – sigh before his eyes closed forever. Ciel and Elizabeth could only watch the scene in amazement.

Notes:

Note:

Lowlands: The territory of Scotland is divided between these, formed by the plateaus and river valleys, and the Highlands, formed by the mountains.

Chapter 11: Coincidences?

Summary:

Activity

Valentine Gifts

To: Rose Zoldyck (DustySunflower44)

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Title: Coincidences?

Ship: SebastianxGrell

Characters: Ciel Phantomhive, Elizabeth Midford.

Synopsis: Past Lives. Sebastian believed, rather, he was convinced that he had seen that woman before. Where, however? He didn't remember. Until an unexpected encounter will make him relive that past that he thought was forgotten.

Prompt: "A and B share the same life after death."

Warnings: Modern School AU. Canonverse. Soulmates. OoC. Post WWII. Reincarnation. Reunion.

Notes: I will keep aspects of the original story, such as the fact that Ciel is an Earl, Lizzie is his fiancée, and Sebastian is his butler, as well as, in this story, the Chancellor of Eton. And also a demon. Ditto for Grell, except that while he will continue to be a Shinigami, she will also be a woman who was once part of Sebastian's past.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Eton College, Berkshire, England, July 1946

That institution of more than seven centuries of existence had housed great teachers and exemplary students. Therefore, that beautiful woman of German origin, just graduated from the University of Bremen, felt strange just entering the imposing hall of the old, historic Eton University. Grell Sutcliff was only 35 years old at the time. She was a beautiful slender woman, with long crimson hair and eyes of a curious greenish—yellowish tone. She approached the enormous table in the reception, where, to her surprise, she was received by a young woman who could not have been more than 20 years old. In other words, rather than the receptionist, she looked like a student. The girl, with long curly blonde hair gathered in a long braid over her right shoulder and green eyes, smiled at the newcomer, asking if she was the new secretary that her mother had told her she was. would arrive.

—Mother... —Grell muttered, quietly and in perfect English. —Then you must be Lady Elizabeth Midford, the Marchioness's daughter. The one who sent me mentioned that she was the benefactor of this institution...

She bowed respectfully and then introduced herself properly:

—My name is Greta, or Grell Sutcliff. I was born, studied and graduated as a lawyer and a graduate in Philosophy and Letters in Bremen, Germany. Precisely, I was transferred from that University to teach here for the next five years. Likewise, they informed me that it was the rector who requested my transfer, but they didn't give me the reasons...

Elizabeth stood up to offer her hand covered in a fine white glove to the redhead, who accepted it without a moment's hesitation, smiling at her in thanks. After that, a grey—haired man who must have been around 70 years old and who had a monocle on his right eye appeared, greeting the ladies with a bow, explaining to Grell that he should take her to the rector, since he was his personal assistant. And warning him, furthermore, that he should not be surprised to see him.

—Of course, Ms. Sutcliff, if you've ever heard of appearances being deceiving...

The redhead did not understand the old man's words until they stopped behind the doors of the rector's office and, after requesting permission to enter, the woman heard an extremely deep and masculine voice grant it. She paled at the thought that if only his voice had left her like that, she couldn't imagine her reaction once she was face to face with that man. Who, she assumed, must obviously be older than her. Even if she wasn't as much as her gentle — and quiet — companion.

They entered the large office where, at the back of it, behind a large table and, in turn, with his back to a huge window, was a man whose mere appearance, even without having seen him standing, left Grell shocked. Unable to utter a word. This only became more apparent when she saw him get to his feet, practically in slow motion, and move until he was right in front of her, barely leaning against his desk. Grell had seen strange subjects in her native Germany. In fact, one of her classmates from her university had an appearance just as imposing as the man in front of her. However, William was a completely ordinary man. The rector in front of her? He seemed to have lived for years despite the fact that, at first glance, he must have been only about 40. He was tall, slender and with black hair, as well as very good looking. However, it was not only that that caught Sutcliff's attention, but, in fact, the most peculiar pallor of his face and the even stranger colour of his eyes. It was crimson as deep as her own hair.

—I'll leave you alone, Monsieur Michaelis...

The old man said, snapping Grell out of her thoughts and causing her to look at him askance and with an arched eyebrow. Eton was one of the most renowned schools not only in England, but in all of Europe. Therefore, no one would be surprised to find not only academics, but also students who are fluent in foreign languages, in addition to their native English. Or that there might even be students or staff members of foreign origin. Although, to be honest, both the old man and the man he had referred to as Michaelis looked British. The same as the young lady at the reception. Again, a male voice snapped her out of her musings, this time causing her eyes to rest on the intense crimson orbs of the rector, slightly taller than her. He smiled at her, then bowed in a way she only remembered certain people used to do. None of them, in a position of superiority like the one held by the black—haired man. In other words, only servants behaved that way. At that moment, Sutcliff noticed that he was wearing white gloves on both hands and something similar to a royal emblem on the lapel of his coat. In addition to the emblem of Eton and the Crown, like any school under the wing of the kings of the day.

—I see you've discovered me, Miss Sutcliff. And I appreciate that they left us alone, since nobody knows about it. At the moment, I can only, or rather, it is only up to me to tell you that my duties are far from this place. If I'm here, it's because the person I serve gave me this task...

He walked slowly past her to leave the office though, when he was only a couple of steps from the door, he turned his crimson orbs over his shoulder towards the redhead.

—And, by the way, if you like, you can call me Sebastian. Let's just say... my 'master' granted me the name Michaelis. On the other hand, I wasn't even born in England but in Bremen... And before you say a word, I don't believe in coincidences. I find them as absurd as faith...

He left without giving Grell time to say a word. The woman then decided to return to Tanaka, who had to take her to her place of residence there within the institution. This, in addition to carrying out academic activities, was a boarding school that housed both students and academics, especially those from other cities or foreigners. Sebastian, for his part, also decided to withdraw. Outside the mansion, a luxurious black vehicle awaited him. Waiting by the passenger seat stood Tanaka, who bowed to the crimson—eyed man before opening the door. Sebastian glanced at him slightly, then, after entering the vehicle, looked up over his shoulder at the only female passenger. Elizabeth Midford turned her face away from the pale man's, as a soft blush settled on her cheeks. Michaelis could only manage to smile before ordering the old man to lead them to his master's mansion.

During the trip, the dark—haired man once again turned his attention to the girl with blond curls and said, without the slightest hint of emotion on his face or his voice:

—Mrs. Phantomhive, I take it you haven't mentioned to our 'guest' who you really are. If you understand what I mean...

—I do; and I haven't, Sebastian. I just wonder... why shouldn't I?

—It's too much of a coincidence, in my opinion, that a woman from Bremen, that is, from Germany, arrives in England, precisely at a university like Eton, a year after the end of the Great War... What do you think?

Lizzie covered her face. The members of the Phantomhive Residence, including her, her parents, and her brother Edward, had been forced to leave London after World War II. Eton was her chosen destination and, since then, they had decided to take a job at the University of that city. Considering that both she and her fiancé Ciel were highly educated and Sebastian, mainly due to his nature, was fully capable of performing more than one task. Not to mention that he was proficient in more than one language as well. She didn't imagine, however, how he could have formed such a guess after only seeing Grell once. Though she had always wondered if there was more to Michaelis than her fiancé, and even Tanaka was still keeping it from her.

—I thought scepticism, and even agnosticism, was just a natural trait for beings like me, milady. You know what I am, although you have never seen me... How long do you think I have lived until now? If it's any clue, so to speak, I was a long—lived being when the young master required my services...

Lizzie didn't reply. Yes; honestly, she believed it possible that this butler had seen countless important and historical events happen in front of him. And even that he had been part, in one way or another, of some of them. Beyond his more than obvious intervention in the ritual in which her fiancé was involved. Arriving at the mansion, they chose not to mention a word to Ciel or the rest of the servants about the mysterious Teutonic woman*. And, curiously, the boy with indigo hair, and whose right eye was hidden behind a black patch, didn't ask anything either. Beyond some trivia about his day at work. To which Sebastian simply replied, with obvious weariness in his expression:

—Being a demon in charge of a spoiled rich kid was too much, young master. Being, or pretending to be, a rector for a horde of arrogant, spoiled, rich young men is worse than the Fifth Hell**. If you understand what I'm talking about...

Ciel smiled. He couldn't imagine his butler having to act as guardian to souls as lacking in faith as himself. And Eton was not exactly characterized as a religious school, beyond the teachings based on Anglican doctrine that were dictated in any institution. The Earl was convinced that the demon would prefer a thousand times to be the executioner.

However, Michaelis didn't imagine how much his life would change from that moment. And all thanks to that mysterious – and why not, suspicious – German redhead. And, especially, to a more than absurd coincidence.

That day, like any other, Sebastian served breakfast to his master and then prepared the small briefcase that he carried along to work. And in which he only carried a couple of books —among them, the statute of the University—, a notebook and a couple of pens. His task done, he turned to Ciel, bowing respectfully, and informed him that he would pick up Elizabeth on the way to Eton along with Tanaka. Warning him, moreover, that he had already assigned his tasks to the rest of the servants and that, until his return, his servant, Mey—Rin, would be in charge of his needs. The boy with sky—coloured eyes nodded and then, in a tone full of irony, wished him luck. Also commenting that he hoped he wouldn't have some unforeseen and unpleasant encounter. Michaelis arched an eyebrow at the comment, but he didn't reply. Instead, he bowed again and then walked away.

They finally arrived at Eton after picking up Elizabeth, and while the curly—haired girl made her way to her reception desk, Tanaka once again escorted Sebastian to his office. Once the dark—haired man excused him, the old man with the monocle bowed, pointing out in a low voice, as if it were a secret that he believed that the most prudent thing was that, for that day at least, he returned to Earl Phantomhive. Michaelis nodded with a smile, whereupon the older man (only in appearance) left, bowing once more in farewell.

The dark—haired man entered his office, hung his coat on a rack in the corner of his desk, then went to the coffee machine and poured a black, slightly sweetened one. He had gotten used to traditional English tea ever since he started serving Ciel. However, he had also adopted the habit of drinking black coffee while he was there at the university. Having prepared his drink, which he sipped a few times to make sure it had just the right sweetness, he took a seat behind his desk, placing the briefcase on it. He finally opened it and began to review the documents that he still had pending from both students and new teachers. Among the latter, he obviously found Grell's. Though he didn't remember when he had put it there. He shook his head to dismiss that thought, instead turning his attention to the document in question. His crimson eyes parted just slightly in surprise as he realized that the small – and almost obsessively neat – handwriting, and even the woman's perfect spelling were familiar. He took from his briefcase a letter, practically yellowish and illegible, written in by a woman whom he had met centuries before his meeting with Ciel and which he had kept with him since they left London, and placed it next to the document he was reading at that moment. He arched an eyebrow and parted his lips just slightly after finally discovering why that style of writing was familiar to him.

—"Bremen, 1912..." —he read in a low voice, even though there was no one to hear him in the place. —Certainly, it is her handwriting; However, as far as...

—Greta Sutcliff was her name... —interrupted the voice of the redhead —And it was my mother. Don't you think it's too old a record for someone who shouldn't be more than 40 years old to have it? Or do you keep as many secrets as I do?

—Should I honestly ask, what kind of secrets can a refugee from the War keep? Unless, of course, Germany sent you to England for some other reason than to teach at Eton...

Grell stared at him for long seconds, until finally he walked towards the office door, closing it with a lock and, returning to the dark—haired man with slow steps, he took his chin without any decorum, lowering his face and said:

—I don't; I have no reason to be here other than to meet a certain person. However, whoever sent me told me not to hold out hope of finding him. That he had died in London. Unfortunately, I don't have any proof of his existence either, since he...

—He died and then lost his humanity more than 500 years ago. In Bremen, the land where I was born; and where my wife and son were taken from me. Sebastian Michaelis is just the name by which whoever decided to bring me back knows me... I reckon Grell must be your name after being burned at the stake. As far as I remember, Greta was also my wife's name. Both you and your mother were executed for heresy.. .And it was a Tudor who ordered his execution... When I came back, in London, I served the House of Germany**; more precisely, Victoria...

The redhead opened her yellow—green eyes wide. She, too, remembered that man. Although she wouldn't have recognized him with the naked eye due to the evident —and spectral— current paleness in his skin and his not at all common crimson eyes. Actually, his first name was Sebastian ***, but his last name when she met him was Voight. Germany was then part of the Germanic—Roman Empire, while Bremen belonged to the Kingdom of Saxony within it. He had been her first and only love. The father of her only child, from whom the British Tudor Dynasty had kept her away to prevent them from apparently intervening in their plans to specifically seize **** Germanic territory. Sebastian caught her attention asking her what she was thinking though, before she could say or do anything, Grell grabbed chin a little harder, then placed a brief kiss on his pale cold lips. .

—I have to go back... —she said slowly moving away from the black—haired man —To Bremen, I mean; my duty here is done. However, he will never know about it. Just tell me one thing before I go, Sebastian... I guess you're not here for what you appear to be either. The last I heard from my husband was that he had made a pact with an English nobleman...

Michaelis smiled, pointing out that he, too, had accomplished his mission, only halfway. He had made a pact with that young nobleman that he would assist him in his revenge against the cult that took his twin brother from him and then murdered his family. In return, he would take his master's soul from him. However, he was incapable of taking a soul as dark and empty as his own. After all, he too had lost his family before he died.

—I'm afraid it's probably best that we both go home. Just forget it; young Phantomhive doesn't deserve a farewell like this. Not from someone like me. Also, he will soon start a family with Lady Elizabeth...

This time Grell took him by the face again, but the kiss was even more intense, passionate. And he wouldn't dare push her from his side.

Notes:

Here, the first Valentine's gift!

And then the relevant notes.

(*) Teutonic: lit. Relating to an ancient Germanic people who settled on the Baltic coast around the 2nd century. Currently, it is also a common demonym to refer to Germans in general.

(**) The Black Butler manga takes place in the 19th century; more precisely, in the reign of Victoria. Said British sovereign belonged to a Royal House of German roots, Hannover.

(***) Continuing with the German issue, the name Sebastian has, in effect, Franco—German roots. He is known as Sebastien in Germany and Austria, Sebastién in France and Sebastián in Spanish—speaking countries (Spain and Latin America).

(****) I don't know if the historical context is correct, but it is true that, during the Germanic Roman Empire, England was ruled by the House of Tudor.

Final Note: As Dante cannot be missing in my life, and I know that you have read it, my child, you will remember that the Fifth Hell is where the Styx Lagoon is located and where the souls that have incurred the sin of Wrath are condemned.

Chapter 12: Sweet Poison

Summary:

To: Liz Leyva Mariscal

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Title: Sweet Poison

Ship: GrellxMadam Red, SebastianxMadam Red

Songfic: Song – The Rose (La Rosa) – Bette Midler

Prompt: —The song that's stuck in your soulmate's head will also be stuck in yours.—

Synopsis: Grell Sutcliff, main tenor of the London Philharmonic Orchestra, has been in love with the conductor, Angelina Durless, ever since they met, when the red-haired, red-eyed woman came to town from Berlin, Germany. However, also, Angelina could never reciprocate, since her heart had an owner. It is her pianist.

Warnings: AU with slight Canonverse. Past Lives. Soulmates. Music. Genderbending. Possible Love Triangle. Unrequited love. Angst.

Notes:

Notes: In this version, although I will not change anything about his naturally androgynous looks, Grell Sutcliff will be male.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Some say love, it is a river

That drowns the tender reed

Some say love, it is a razor

That leads your soul to bleed

Some say love, it is a hunger,

An endless aching need

I say love, it is a flower

And you, its only seed

Royal Festival Hall, London, England

An ovation was heard from end to end in that concert hall. It was one of the only five halls in the British capital that served that purpose. The members of the orchestra and the night's guests approached the center of the stage for the final salute and, after receiving another ovation, the enormous midnight blue curtain closed in front of them. The applause and cheers, however, were heard for long minutes after that. When they relented, Angelina Durless, the slender, beautiful and elegant conductor of the orchestra, with straight shoulder-length hair and eyes of the same shade of crimson, turned her gaze to the only member of the group who used to stand apart from the rest after the final salute. When Sebastian Michaelis, the pianist, slightly taller and slender than Angelina, with black hair, pale skin, and intense crimson eyes, noticed this, he returned a barely subtle smile. That attitude was not lost on the observation of the man standing to Mrs. Durless' left. That was, the orchestra's lead tenor, Grell Sutcliff. However, as it happened almost every night, he decided that it would be best to keep his thoughts to himself. He couldn't blame that dark-haired British man for falling in love with a heartless woman. Because Sebastian hadn't been her first man; he had spent ten years with Durless before the arrival of the dark-haired man. And yet, he couldn't blame him for stealing his only love.

—Sutcliff? Are you used to getting lost in your thoughts very often? You remind me of someone I used to serve...

Grell looked at Michaelis with a look of genuine confusion on his face. The red-haired man imagined that, like anyone in his position, he shouldn't have devoted his entire life to being a concert performer. No one there, except for Angelina, was exactly noble indeed. On the other hand, however, the dark-haired man was not someone who spoke so easily about his private life. Helplessly, he asked if he had just had to serve the nobility before joining the orchestra. Sebastian smirked, pointing out that he would not be in the orchestra otherwise. Considering that he was just an amateur pianist; even though he might not look like one now. He sighed and, after a couple of seconds, explained that he had, in fact, been a butler and bodyguard, so to speak, to Angelina's only nephew. An Earl currently 23 years old, married to the girl to whom he was betrothed when he was 10 years old. Sutcliff arched an eyebrow.

—Tell me you're not talking about Phantomhive's son... Before you ask how I know, his wedding must have been news even in the non-Crown newspapers *...

The redhead with straight hair in a low ponytail and curious yellowish-green gaze could swear that the man next to him wasn't entirely happy with that information. As if he had taken a certain liking for that young man rather than simply having served him and his family. However, once again, he chose to keep his doubts to himself. Sebastian's voice calling him brought him back to reality. When Grell turned his attention back to the crimson-eyed pianist, the latter simply announced that they had to leave.

—Easy for you to say... —Sutcliff answered, unable to hide his frustration. —I must spend another night in that filthy hotel. I should have thought better of it before reconsidering Angelina's proposal...

This time, Michaelis raised an eyebrow in confusion. Unable to contain his curiosity, which was an unusual trait of his, he asked what exactly he meant. Grell sighed, again, admitting to himself that he shouldn't blame his companion for his 'misfortunes'. So, after a brief pause and another, deeper sigh, he shook his head and asked Sebastian if he would agree to join him for a cup of tea.

—I have never accepted an invitation of that sort from my master, or from Lady Durless, Grell. However, there is always a first time for everything, isn't there?

They left the place, almost categorically ignoring the gaze of the conductor, who could only watch the two men in her life walk away, strangely, together. Of course, she didn't suspect that there was something between them. However, she couldn't help but be surprised, mainly at Grell's attitude. He wasn't a reserved man; if something didn't satisfy him, he was used to saying face to face. And she was fully aware of his jealousy of the pianist. After all, the redhead had been her first love.

It's the heart afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance

It's the dream afraid of waking

That never takes the chance

It's the one who won't be taken

Who cannot seem to give

And the soul, afraid of dying

That never learns to live

Durless residence, that night...

—Must I honestly ask why are you late, Sebastian?

—Should I really remind you that I have a life outside of this place? Before I forget, I'd like to remind you that I haven't quit my job. And I can't do it while living as a foreigner in Great Britain. By the way, tomorrow will be my last performance. I must return to Leicester** with my family...

Angelina's eyes widened. It was true, neither Sebastian nor Grell had been born there in Britain. In fact, the former had come to the Phantomhive residence in Leicester as the first butler of the family and, after the couple's death, of his sole heir. Even today, he served the young Earl and his wife. He was, finally, originally from Vienna, Austria. Grell was German, from Berlin, and had served as lead tenor in the Berlin Symphony Orchestra until his arrival in London. However, in the time that he remained by her side, Michaelis had never expressed his desire to return to his master so directly. Why would he have changed his mind so suddenly?

—I'll have to have a serious talk with Sutcliff tomorrow. I can't think of anyone else who could have put that idea into your head. That guy hates me...

—In fact, it's exactly the opposite...

The dark-haired man said as he adjusted the white glove on his left hand and wound his pocket watch. Which, curiously and despite its age, still worked. Those were habits he had adopted since he began his service to the Phantomhive family. He looked up from the little piece of gold again to the one who called herself his 'lover' and, letting out a long sigh (another sadly common habit of his), he took up his words:

—I mean, Sutcliff loves you, miss. However, it is more than evident that you prefer to ignore his feelings, or worse, break his heart. As for me, even after all this time, I will never be able to reciprocate as expected if you decides to act that way. Not to mention that commitment has never been in my plans...

Angelina Durless had never shed tears for a man when she had had the chance to have anyone who crossed her path at her mercy. She had a husband, whom a tragic end took from her. Then Grell would arrive, with whom she thought she had regained happiness. Until, before the tenor could even think about proposing, a new man appeared in her path. And this time, it was she who made the mistake of falling head over heels for him. Why a mistake? The redhead hadn't even waited to meet Sebastian before confessing; In other words, it was love at first sight. However, she didn't know until now that this was one-sided.

—Tell me, please... Who is she?

The pianist widened his eyes slightly, and then arched an eyebrow at the question. Hadn't he already mentioned to her that he owed his loyalty, and even his affection, to someone else? Though, in reality, rather than seeing Ciel Phantomhive as his master or his protégé, he considered the Earl and his wife as his only family. After all, he too had lost his in Austria. He sighed, shook his head and, turning his back on her, picked up a suitcase that he had already packed -and which Angelina hadn't seen until that moment-. Then, he said:

—I should go now. Let me just say that it's been an honour to be with you until today, but for your own good, you must end this. And be honest with yourself before this becomes torture for both of you. By the way, don't mention to Grell that I'm leaving... Maybe you don't mind hurting people's feelings. I, on the other hand, cannot betray the closest thing I have had to a brother since I came here. Although I fear that you will never understand what a family is; after all, you didn't even attend your only nephew's wedding...

Those words instantly caught the ruby-eyed woman's attention. What had Sebastian meant? Her eyes and identically furious crimson lips widened in a gesture between surprise and recognition as she remembered that she had seen a man very similar to Michaelis accompanying her nephew, Ciel Phantomhive, ever since he was 10 years old. Despite the fact that she hadn't visited him many times in those 13 years.

—My sister never mentioned that there was another servant in the family besides Tanaka...

—I think I mentioned to you that I'm Austrian; I've been with the Phantomhive ever since the Earl's parents passed away, Miss Durless...

He bowed politely, turning his body toward the woman to see her eyes one last time, and after repeating his request that she didn't inform Grell of his departure, he left. That would be the last time Angelina Durless would see Sebastian Michaelis as her conductor and her principal pianist. When they met again, none of them, not even Grell, existed on this plane. He was a demon; Angelina, or Madame Red, was a soul thirsty for revenge on her own sister, who had died years ago; and, finally, Grell had committed suicide after his love failure, although he had been reborn in a new job. He was now a Shinigami, fighting alongside that love that blatantly despised him in his human life.

When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong.

Just remember, in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snows

Lies the seed that with the sun's love

In the spring, becomes the rose

Notes:

Notes

Only one and it is historical: (*) The 'affinity' of the British written press was divided between three poles: the Conservatives, center-left, called 'Tory'; the Labour, or Workers' Party; and the neutrals. In general, it is the members of the Labour Party, made up of Commons (members of the Lower House of Parliament) and, therefore, the media related to it, who are most critical of the acts of the Crown. Except in the occasions when there is an event of national relevance.

Liz Leyva Mariscal (LizzyMichaellis25), Rose Zoldyck (DustySunflower44) and Monse Michaelis-san (Alei_sama89), read this. Although the gift is only for one, I hope all three like it!

Lizzy, I hope it's what you expected from this ship!

Chapter 13: An Unexpected Twist of Fate

Summary:

Weekly Challenges

Repechage

No Unimembres Sentences

Title: An Unexpected Twist of Fate

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Ships: Ciel x Elizabeth. SebastianxGrell

Characters: William T. Spears, Undertaker

Synopsis: Once the Count's revenge for the death of his family was accomplished, Sebastian was supposed to take his soul. What, or who could stop him now? Nothing less than the worst sin that a being naturally stained with darkness could probably incur. He became attached not only to his master, but even to the one he would soon become his wife. And what was worse, giving in to the wishes –or rather, the pleas— of the latter.

Warnings: AU Canonverse. Romance. Angst. Demons. OOC

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

At the dawn of the new century, on the morning of his master's twenty—fifth birthday, Sebastian Michaelis, butler to the young Phantomhive heir since he was 10 years old, sat in the wide armchair in the main hall. His intense crimson gaze was lost in the idyllic landscape offered by the vast variety of flowers that adorned the mansion's front garden. On his lap, sound asleep like a new—born child, was none other than the reason that led that being from the shadows to that mansion, once in ruins. Sebastian Michaelis, the demonic butler with black hair and spectrally pale skin, would never have imagined reaching the day when he would finally fulfil —or conclude— the pact he had with the young Earl, Ciel Phantomhive, in which he would have to give him his soul in exchange for his services in his revenge against those who had taken his family from him. A long, nostalgic sigh escaped his lips as he recalled the fateful night (fateful for the 25—year—old). That is, a day like that night, although 15 years ago, when Ciel had just turned 10 years old.

—Sebastian... for good grief, haven't you gone to sleep yet?

The butler with a slender and graceful figure and black hair lowered his crimson orbs to the evidently sleepy face of his young master at such questioning, meeting the blue eyes —both visible— of the minor. These, however, were not exactly the same shade of bluish; in fact, and as proof of his pact with Michaelis, Phantomhive had a cyan—coloured seal on his right eye, while his left eye was sky—coloured. Likewise, the demon carried the symbol that he himself engraved on his master on the back of his left hand, hidden under his white glove. It had been that way for ten of the last fifteen years, since the Earl had removed the patch that concealed the seal. Sebastian, on the other hand, couldn't and shouldn't. Especially, before those who didn't know his true nature.

—Go to sleep, will you?

Said the boy with indigo hair, once again and with a little more insistence despite the tiredness that tinged his own voice. Sebastian couldn't help the small, barely audible laugh that escaped his lips at hearing it. And noticing that, while giving him that warning, Ciel himself was unable to keep his eyes open. He slowly got to his feet, carefully moving the boy onto his lap and then picking him up as he recalled having done so many times since he had met him. As he walked, with his usual calm grace towards the mansion's master bedroom, he realized that he truly felt tired.

He entered the room and, after laying Ciel down and wrapping him up with the same dedication and care that had characterized him since their meeting 15 years ago, he sat down on the edge of the bed, letting out a deep sigh. He didn't know why, but he suddenly brought his left hand to the glove that concealed the symbol of the pact and carefully removed it. For a split second, he was seized by a sharp pang that faded as soon as the piece of cloth was removed. To his surprise, although he wouldn't say horror – not out loud, at least – he noticed that it looked slightly reddish, as if it were on fire. He had to hold back a groan of pain when, sure enough, an intense sensation of stinging rather than burning came over him. He looked back at his hands and saw, or at least he thought he saw, the seal about to vanish. This time, he did utter an exclamation of horror that wouldn't reach the ears of the young man next to him for the simple fact that he was already fast asleep. The butler blinked repeatedly —and quickly—, as if he were trying to clear his eyes and, seeing his hands one last time, a new sigh came out even against his will. The seal was still intact; and he imagined that Ciel's would be too. He covered the black symbol again with his work gloves, then slowly got to his feet, properly tucked the boy beside him, and retreated to his own room. A last and even deeper sigh escaped from his mouth when he finally, and without any decorum, lay on his back on his bed, without even taking off his shoes.

—He... he mentioned that this might happen... —he said, panting slightly as he closed his crimson eyes. —I never thought it would be so soon, though...

He fell into a deep sleep before he could even breathe another sigh. Which, strangely, was beginning to become even more frequent than it had been upon his arrival at the mansion. That was, it felt as if he was urged to catch his breath at times.

He was beginning to doze off as he rocked ever so slightly on the bed, when a new figure leaned in next to him, laying her right hand, equally pale and cold, on the demon's cheek. However, Michaelis didn't move an inch; at least at that time. 'Thanks' to the same twists of fate that brought Michaelis to his current situation, Grell Sutcliff had also abandoned her ambitions and sinister plans, but not her nature. After all, she had brought that fate upon herself, so to speak. She had voluntarily taken her own life, becoming a Shinigami. On the other hand, and perhaps that was the most surprising part of the story, after having been almost bitter enemies for years, Sutcliff and Michaelis were now a couple. However, despite the fact that their relationship had grown to such an extent, there was something that the woman with crimson hair and curious green-yellow eyes ignored about Sebastian. Or the 'price' that he had agreed to pay after his decision; which was unexpected even for him. A hand as pale and cold as her own on her face snapped the woman out of her thoughts, causing her to look back into the half-closed eyes of her lover. She slowly backed away from him, smiling back at him before speaking:

—Sorry; I didn't know you were asleep. It is not like you; it's never been...

After those last, brief words, a small grimace of concern was drawn on the face of her redhead, while she arched an eyebrow before continuing:

—Are you okay? Is there something you need to tell me?

Sebastian sat up slowly, hiding a new grimace –or a new groan- of pain as he did so. Which, luckily for him, Grell hadn't noticed. He smiled just subtly, as he used to do and then he simply explained that Ciel had asked him to rest, that was all. Sutcliff wouldn't take such a terse answer, so she decided to dig deeper. Finally defeated, the demon asked her to lie down beside him again. The Shinigami did so, resting her left hand on Sebastian's chest as she lay down next to him. She was surprised to hear his heartbeat more clearly than she should have. When she looked up at Michaelis again, the butler simply brought his own index finger to his lips, indicating her to keep quiet and allow him to explain. Grell nodded, now resting her head on the hand she still held on the demon's chest. Sebastian wasn't sure he could even stay awake long enough to finish recounting to the Shinigami the events that had led to the situation he and his master had found themselves in now. Of his demonic power, there was practically nothing left but the extraordinary, superhuman strength that his nature endowed him with.

Flash Back

Phantomhive Mansion, 5 years ago

Sebastian Michaelis looked up menacingly at that long grey-haired accursed spectre from hell, whom he would ever dare trust with his master, if only as an informer. Next to him, the bastard twin that Ciel believed to have died in the sacrifice for which the demon butler had been summoned.

—Please... Take Lady Midford and her mother and Mey-Rin and get out of here... And don't make me repeat myself, Earl...

The 20-year-old looked seriously at Sebastian, for long seconds. Again, as it had happened when they boarded the zombie-infested cruise ship, his butler had been injured. Although this time he seemed to be firmly on his feet. However, Phantomhive was aware that, despite his promise not to lie, Michaelis had always kept something from him. Either because he truly cared for his welfare or because of the treacherous nature of his 'race'. After all, if he had trusted a demon, it was because he was desperate to get rid of the ones that had destroyed his family. He suddenly felt the frightened voice of Lizzie, his fiancée, calling out to him desperately and then Sebastian's neat white gloved hands on his shoulders. Slightly glancing back at him, he fell silent, waiting for what he had to say.

—Young master... Earl Phantomhive, I'm afraid I can no longer serve you as before... I know it might be unbelievable for someone like me, but... Once this is all over, Sebastian Michaelis, the demon Sebastian Michaelis will be gone forever. I have never given up taking what I have agreed to; however, you don't deserve to lose more than you have already lost. Lady Elizabeth doesn't deserve to lose the only person she's ever loved...

Ciel arched an eyebrow, stating that he wouldn't believe such a reason. There had to be something else behind his decision. Sebastian didn't reply. Or at least he didn't do it the way Ciel expected. His body turned sharply towards the young man with indigo hair, practically embracing him as the Shinigami accompanying his twin launched his heavy –and lethal- scythe. It hit Sebastian, deeply injuring his right arm, but not before hitting a second body, whose owner barely let out a moan of pain trying to simulate the agony he was experiencing.

—Take him away; and do what he asks of you. And don't ask anything. Just... run away...

Sebastian raised his already blurry crimson orbs briefly at the sound of that voice. It couldn't be possible; he couldn't really be seeing that disgusting guy in front of him. He wondered where he would have gotten enough compassion to do such a thing. The man with black hair, neatly combed back and dark eyes looked at him without avoiding a hint of disdain in his expression, although then he turned his attention to the younger man.

—Don't make me repeat myself, brat*. Just leave if you don't want your butler to die here. And you with him... Besides, and believe me, just thinking about it disgusts me, but someone would be desperate if something happened to this bastard...

Michaelis could no longer respond to William's otherwise scathing words. On the other hand, he was fully aware of whom he was referring to; and, to be honest, he himself distrusted being able to continue with his 'life' without that being with the intense red hair. As well as the Count and his little 'family'. Ciel, for his part, obeyed, albeit reluctantly. He had to finish with his brother, with the Undertaker, who was only using him, and even with that black-haired Shinigami and his partner. He walked away from the main room to the kitchen where his servants used to gather and, with the help of his cook, he laid Michaelis down on a kind of wooden bench. Sebastian did not say a word. He wouldn't even dare protesting when Baldroy and, oddly enough, Mey-Rin, offered to treat his wounds once Ciel's fiancée and her mother left. The demon fell fast asleep at that moment, although he seemed to be in a kind of delirium, since he heard him muttering in his sleep. And, to the Earl's surprise, he wasn't only calling Grell Sutcliff but also apologizing to Ciel for failing his task.

It was all finally over. Although nothing had turned out the way that Ciel had expected, in the end he had managed to avenge his family. Not to mention that his butler had done a lot of the work anyway. That night, he was sitting next to his own bed, on which a sound asleep Sebastian was resting. He noticed, not without a hint of surprise on his face, that the butler was not wearing his gloves, and then, opening his eyes and lips even more surprised, and even scared, he realized that the mark on his left hand seemed to be slowly fading. That definitely shouldn't be happening, right?

—It should... Or rather it is possible, if whoever gave it to you has broken his pact, young master. I remember mentioning it to you before, have you forgotten?

—No, but why would you do such a thing?

—I don't understand it myself yet, I'm just... I'm probably becoming too compassionate, indulgent or sentimental. I fear that even Lady Elizabeth would blame that on me for the rest of my existence...

Phantomhive was about to reply that they would die long before he did. However, he stopped as soon as Michaelis looked back at him, his eyes barely half open. The demon smiled, pointing out that probably even without his demonic powers, he could somehow 'keep' himself longer. However, he would grow old sooner or later. After all, he had had a long existence as a demon. It would be impossible for him to erase all his memories. He didn't plan on being locked up forever in a portrait** or anything like that.

—However, young master, there is something I cannot, even if I wanted to, take with me. That bastard is right...

—Explain, Sebastian, please. What are you talking about?

For the umpteenth time in years, Michaelis sighed, deep and long, as if trying to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to confess. Ciel seemed to realize this, so he asked him to try to calm down, reminding him that he was just recovering from his injuries. The demon nodded, and then let out a new and even deeper sigh. Finally, and when he thought he was ready, he opened his eyes a little more, still somewhat blurry, in order to better focus on the boy sitting next to him.

—I can't explain exactly how or when it happened, Earl, but... I fell in love with the least expected person; or being. In fact, I never thought I would be able to experience such a feeling in the first place. It has always seemed too human to me and, forgive me if this sounds too direct, and even hurtful, but I also found it extremely banal...

Ciel's bluish orbs, the right one momentarily uncovered, widened as he realized who Michaelis could be referring to. And, to be honest, he was really surprised to hear something like that. It was true that Grell had always shown a certain attraction towards his butler, if only as part of her strategy to fulfil her dirty purposes. However, Michaelis' contempt was also true not only for Grell itself, but also for his 'race', so to speak: the Shinigami. He turned his gaze back to the butler to reply to his confession. However, he had fallen sound asleep once more. Phantomhive smiled and, as he got up to make a cup of tea, he whispered looking at the dark-haired man over his shoulder.

—What can I say? You have never abandoned me, even despite breaking our contract. Rest assured that neither Lizzy nor I will walk away from you. It doesn't matter who you've chosen to live with for the rest of your years. I will only regret having taken, or being responsible for having your most precious asset or, rather, your essence, taken from you. That... that wasn't in our deal. I was supposed to be the one to disappear, Sebastian...

End of Flashback

Grell looked surprised and for long minutes at Sebastian, while the dark-haired man tried to sit up again. He wasn't sure if it was a reflex action or what had happened to him, but Sebastian quickly looked down at his still naked left hand, watching with his crimson eyes open almost like saucers as the seal had indeed vanished once and for all. His free hand settled, also instinctively, on his chest. He felt no pain or discomfort; on the contrary, he was trying to check if what he was listening to was really his heartbeat. He blinked, glanced sideways at Sutcliff, and the redhead nodded, as if she had realized what had happened. And then she smiled, bringing his face closer to hers to leave a barely subtle kiss on his cheek. She then turned away from him and, getting up from the bed, she spoke:

—Don't you think it's time for them to find out, Sebas-chan? I doubt the Earl has anything to say about it...

The Shinigami arched an eyebrow at the look and the enigmatic smile that the butler gave her in response. Because that was his practically primordial function for 5 years. And so it would be until he exhaled his last breath. With or without his powers, he wasn't thinking of abandoning the young man for whom he had devoted so many years of his existence. Before he would take him with him to the depths of Hell. Before Sutcliff could formulate an answer, although he imagined his companion would have guessed it, the butler moved closer to her, placing a kiss on her forehead as he cupped her chin subtly and gently with his left hand. He even felt a little dazed. Despite the 5 years that had passed since that event, he was not convinced if he would be able to fit in a world where he should behave more like a bodyguard than what he had always been.

—I think I can say it with absolute certainty now... —Michaelis muttered, outlining a smile —Human beings are strange creatures...

Notes:

So far my contribution to the Repechage!

Notes: (*) I don't see Will calling Ciel a brat. But he is certainly a rather grumpy Shinigami, just for that reason I decided to give him that note of colour.

(**) "The Portrait of Dorian Grey", written by the Irishman Oscar Wilde, tells the story of Dorian Grey, who asks an artist to paint his portrait in order to remain forever young. Over time, Dorian does indeed preserve his youth; however, it is the portrait that ages.

This fiqui goes, as always, with a very special dedication to DustySunflower44, LizzyMichaellis25 and Alei_sama89

I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that it will be of the greatest pleasure to you!

Chapter 14: A Very... Peculiar Couple

Summary:

Weekly Challenges

1st Person

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Title: A Very... Peculiar Couple

Ships: GrellxSebastian, CielxElizabeth

Characters: Tanaka, Prince Soma, Agni

Synopsis: AU. Such a situation had to be impossible between two beings of their nature. No matter how deep their love was. However, when they least expected it, that day finally arrived.

Warnings. AU. OoC. Crack Ship. Fancy. Paternity. Angst family. Demons. Death of a Character (mentioned).

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Phantomhive Mansion, London

Sebastian's POV

It’s been 20 years since we’ve been together under the same roof. Twenty years in which the young Earl had finally achieved his goal of revenge. It hadn’t been the same story as far as I was concerned, though. Honestly speaking, I wouldn’t have allowed, let alone forgiven myself, to take a soul that was probably more corrupted by darkness than my own. And I never had a soul. Anyway, I suppose you are wondering why I had decided to give it up. The reason is even more complex to describe than the simple fact of not corrupting an innocent young man at all. If that was the case, my presence here for the last 20 years wouldn’t have made the slightest sense. Anyway, the real reason for such a decision has, if I can put it that way, a proper name. And what is even worse, this is someone whom, for more than three centuries, I should have hated more than I did my own race. That is to say, those beings known as ‘soul reapers’; or, in more specific terms, a Shinigami. Even more precisely, it was one with long red hair and curious green—yellow eyes. And I mean curious, because it’s not an everyday thing to come across a being with crimson eyes. Anyway, going back to my companion, he is also an absolutely insane being. He still is, even after the highly unusual event that we had to experience 5 years ago.

—Sebastian! Are you there?

And speaking of Satan, or whatever you want to call him, there was Grell Sutcliff. I think her yelling must have woken up even the little twins sleeping upstairs. Even despite the fact that they are only six months old. Yes, as you hear, the mansion has also been filled with children; beginning with my masters’ twins. Geez, I never thought Earl Phantomhive would become a father. However, he doesn’t only have his little twins, but also a 7—year—old girl. Their names are Angelina, Edward and Albert. I think her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, would have been most happy to see him, if she were still with us. Even more so, if she knew that her Guardian Dog decided to honour her late husband by giving his name to one of his little children. Oh, good grief, I think this is getting out of hand. Since when have I been so sentimental? I had the answer almost numbing my left arm as I held her in my lap and sipped a cup of tea. I think I didn't mention it, but I wasn't the only butler of the Phantomhive Manor anymore. Unfortunately, Mr. Tanaka was no longer with us either. However, my master decided to welcome back two old acquaintances. And why deny it? I couldn't honestly object.

—This must be the fourth time I try to get your attention... —Grell said once again, staring at me and with an accusing gesture that practically broke when she looked down. —Has she fallen asleep yet? Again?

I raised an eyebrow. Victoria was only two years old, what else did she expect to happen? I stood up, leaving the empty cup on the table in front of me and rearranging our daughter in my arms. Sure enough, the little bundle of black hair and eyes that were closed at the time but were green was our daughter. Obviously, such an event would have never been possible in a natural way, when none of us was even a human being, much less alive. To whom did we owe such a 'gift' then? None other than Madame Phantomhive; that is, the young Countess Elizabeth. I almost instinctively brought my left hand to my temple and began massaging slowly as that memory flashed through my mind. Then I sat down again and sighed. Unfortunately, the latter was a habit I hadn't been able to shake since meeting the young master. On the other hand, and particularly since the arrival of little Angelina, I began to experience something similar to insomnia, and even migraines, even though, under normal circumstances, someone like me should not. I never needed to sleep. That was, until seven years ago. I shook my head when I realized that the woman in front of me extended her arms with the intention of taking little Victoria and, unable to help it, I simply handed her over.

—You should go to sleep. It may be true that you are his butler; however, if I am not mistaken, the Earl is no longer your master...

I saw her offer me the same, almost trained lopsided smile that she used to give me back in the day, when we were enemies. Though, this time, I knew perfectly well that, far from being just an ironic gesture on her part, it was a warning to comply with her request. To which, on any other occasion, I would have declined. However, I couldn't do it this time. I had to admit that, strangely, I didn't feel too good. I had spent, as usual, a large part of the night awake, although I didn’t imagine that finally a habit that I had had since I arrived at the mansion would make a dent in me. Perhaps it was the other drastic turn our lives had taken in the last 5 years. I don’t know; but I can certainly attest to one thing. Beyond the confusion in which I still find myself, I think I wouldn’t change this life. It is strange that something like that can be heard from someone like me.

A new day began in the Phantomhive mansion. An otherwise dreadful winter's day, that was. Despite being an immortal creature, I honestly can't remember the last time I witnessed a day as frigid as this. So much so that the cold that seeped through the half—open window chilled me to the bone. That shouldn't definitely happen to me under normal circumstances. Though, to be absolutely honest, there wasn’t anything normal in this mansion anymore. Let alone in our lives. I slowly opened my eyes and turned slightly to my left, checking that, as I imagined, Grell was no longer by my side. However, I couldn't help but wonder where she was. Suddenly, I heard the door open slowly and, after that, a male voice asked if he could come in. I felt an urge to roll my eyes at the question. Precisely and after allowing him to get in, I couldn't help but ask if he had forgotten that we were both servants. Although some —more precisely the Countess— would prefer to ignore it at times.

—Have you seen the Earl, Michaelis—san?

And this time, I definitely felt the need to externalize my frustration in some way. So, without further ado, I let out a deep breath. How long had it been since we met? Or, what was worse, how long had that butler and his master been living together in the mansion? I quickly turned my attention to the man with Indian features, grey eyes and white hair and nodded before explaining to him, this time without being able to hide my frustration at all, that his wife had had the brilliant idea of going out with the children. With all of them, I pointed out as I sighed once more and with an even more obvious grimace of boredom rather than frustration. Agni's eyes widened as if he had suddenly remembered something and then he mentioned that Prince Soma had suggested this idea to Earl Phantomhive. However, hadn’t expected my master to accept the proposal. Furthermore, he pointed out with a look of surprise on his face, apparently someone else had offered to accompany them. And it wasn’t any of the other three servants of the mansion, since they were unaware of the fact until he told them about it. I smiled, causing Agni to stare at me with an impassive gesture on his features. Which he didn't understand how he was able to maintain even today. It was probably because his life before Soma had been as tragic as my own master's. I sighed, pushing that thought from my mind, and asked him if he needed anything else.

—I don’t; that was all… —Prince Soma's butler said, giving me a slight smile and bowing politely. —I'll go make some tea. Will you accompany me?

I smiled once more as he pulled me to my feet. As usual, I had lain down with only my shoes off and on the perfectly made bed. I even had my white gloves on. Although this custom actually had a specific reason; the same one for which the Earl still wore a patch covering his right eye. We both still bore the seal of our contract. On the other hand, by now not only Grell and the Earl obviously knew about my nature, but even the Countess, Elizabeth and the three oldest servants in the mansion; our cook, Baldroy; the gardener, Finnian; and, finally, the maid, Mey Rin. Our most recent guests, on the other hand, were still ignorant of it. I shook my head and turned my attention to the butler, patiently and stoically waiting to escort me out. And, once again, I found myself smiling at that gesture. I have no notion that Mr. Agni, much less Prince Soma, have been remotely so formal since their arrival at the mansion. Rather, since their return, for master Ciel had decided to send them back to Bengal after the unexpected 'return' –it was literally, a resurrection— of his twin *.

We went down to the room at the precise moment that the Prince, Master Ciel and Elizabeth were returning. I was surprised at first that only the little twins and Victoria were with them. Until, for the second time that day (which, I have to admit, I was beginning to worry), I couldn't help the smile on my lips, and later an obvious laugh at hearing a certain redhead cry desperately begging for her existence while she was 'savagely attacked' by a little monstrosity with blond curls and blue eyes. Yes, you have probably guessed it. Grell entered the mansion with Angelina literally wrapped around her waist. I mean, if such a thing was possible in a 7—year—old girl barely as tall as her mother’s waistline. The little girl turned her face slightly and almost automatically in my direction, showing me a broad smile with her pristine white teeth in sight; and an arched eyebrow. At that moment, I deeply regretted that she ignored who she was making such a rude face at, and even wanted to let her know right now. However, instead, I just welcomed her as I was used to, followed by Agni, who only asked her to accompany him to the room. The Earl and the others had left, if clarification be needed. I turned, also with an arched eyebrow, at Grell and simply shook my head.

—You could have done something; don't you think so, Sebastian?

—No; I don't think... —I answered without further ado —I guess I shouldn't remind you that that word doesn't exist in my world. And I guess it does not in yours either. We both know you wouldn't be a Shinigami if that were the case**...

Without saying another word, I turned to the living room; or, rather, to the kitchen. I was the butler of the mansion; now, even, I was the chief of staff in Tanaka's absence. In other words, I had tasks to accomplish. As I walked away, I could hear my companion cursing in as wide variety of dialects as there were on the British Islands. Yes; even in Celtic and Gaelic***.

When I joined the rest of the group, I had to admit that I was practically frozen at the scene in the room. For one thing, Angelina had already found a new victim for her pranks, Finnian. And I had to admit that that scene gave me a curious feeling of apprehension. If only little Phantomhive knew who she was messing with. On the other hand, the twins were fast asleep, one in his mother's arms and the other in his father's. Finally, and unable to help it, I widened my eyes when I saw such a thing. Victoria slept peacefully in the arms of our guest —or one of them—, who only stared at him, completely enthralled with his curious golden gaze. Apparently, however, the young purple—haired Indian didn’t have his full attention on the girl in his arms, since he was aware of my presence even before my master and his wife. In the old days, and if such a thing had been possible, Prince Soma would have paled to almost the same as my own natural shade. At that point, however, he offered me a smile before asking if it was normal for my daughter to fall asleep so quickly in the arms of strangers. Considering that he had only seen her with me or with Elizabeth.

—Let me think… —I said, bringing my left hand to my chin —You must be the first person; at least, that I have seen. And, honestly, I'm surprised... I think humans will never cease to amaze me, even in these circumstances...

Before sitting down at the table after that brief conversation (and at Agni's insistence), I briefly turned my attention to Finnian and Angelina. The little demon dressed as a cherub with blonde curls was definitely hell—bent on testing the gardener's –little— tolerance. And, to be honest, I would have allowed Finnian to please the girl. However, it was also part of my butler’s duties to make sure that a peaceful environment was maintained in the house. That was why Grell and I shared one of the most remote corners of the property. Therefore, cautiously approaching Angelina, I took her left hand before it brushed so much as a strand of hair from the boy next to her and, before she tried to make any protest, I covered her lips with my index finger. The Earl and Elizabeth just watched the scene unfazed. It wasn't necessary, after all.

—Thank you...

It was the blonde man’s simple, succinct, and as always, timid response. He would have usually addressed me more formally. Why had he stopped doing it? It just didn't make sense for me that he did so when I was also a servant in the first place and then I wasn't even what I appeared to be. And Finnian was, unfortunately, the first person to notice it. Normally, I shouldn't feel sorry for him; actually, I shouldn't be able to express any emotion. However, I had to admit that I never thought that my master's fiancée could ever have such an effect on a being as cold, cruel and ruthless as I am. But she did. And, strange as it may sound, I must sincerely thank her for it. And I would insist until exhaustion, or until some supreme being, if there is one, decides to end my existence, that human beings truly are extremely curious creatures. But, also, ones that I wouldn’t dare to abandon. When I realized that I was deep in thought, which was happening to me too often lately, I looked up at the married couple in front of me and, getting to my feet, I politely excused myself with them as usual.

—If you will allow me, young masters, I must withdraw. Victoria needs her rest and her 'mother' isn’t very akin to these schedules, if you understand me, Earl...

—I just wonder... —said the man (I couldn't call him a boy anymore) with indigo hair, staring at me and with his right eye, curiously, uncovered, —how the hell could you fall in love with her? Furthermore, how was it possible for you two to accept that child?

—I guess you must have heard the saying… —I said, not even attempting to stop the smile that threatened to grace my pale features —Opposites attract. As for Victoria, I don't know; I'm honestly still trying to figure it out. But if there's one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty...

I turned my back almost completely on them although, before withdrawing and raising my reddish gaze over my shoulder, I confessed:

—I regret nothing, Earl Phantomhive. Absolutely nothing, if you know what I mean...

Although it might be considered irreverent on the part of one owing allegiance to a noble, I left without offering even the slightest gesture of farewell. I discovered that Victoria definitely had an incredible ability to not flinch in the least from the constant movement that children her age were frequently subjected to. She was still as peacefully asleep as when Prince Soma had her in his arms. I couldn't help but wonder how absurdly needy these creatures could be. Although, also, and while I entered our room, completely in the dark, it was also inevitable for me to leave something remotely similar to a kiss**** on the little girl's forehead before leaving her in her crib. Gesture that I repeated in the pale red—haired woman, who I knew that, even though her eyes were closed, she was awake, waiting for me. I wasn’t planning on staying here this time, though. Therefore, and after having fulfilled the task I had come to accomplish here, I looked back at Grell and murmured:

—I'll see you tonight... —I looked away from her face and added, in an even more inaudible tone, —I love Thee, Milady (I love you, My Lady) *****...

Notes:

New Weekly Challenge!

Notes:

(*) This one-shot (I'm still thinking whether to continue it or not) takes place once Ciel has exacted his revenge, with obvious changes, obviously. For this reason, it occurred to me that it was appropriate to highlight events that occurred in the original manga.

(**) I think I mentioned it in another story, but in the Kuroshitsuji universe, Shinigami are human beings who have committed suicide.

(***) The Kingdom of Great Britain, before the Independence of Ireland in 1912, had a wide variety of dialects used in the different civilizations that made it up, related to the peoples who had occupied those lands in Antiquity and in the Middle Ages. Saxon was the dialect of present-day England; Celtic was that of Scotland and Wales; and, finally, Gaelic was that of nowadays Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. All dialects originated from the Celtic and Viking peoples, the first occupants of the island.

(****) As you know, our demon butler is someone very formal and polite, as far as behaviour and etiquette goes and, on the other hand, the story is set in Victorian England. It is actually set in the 1885-88 period, shortly before the Queen's death, in 1901. Therefore, I preferred to use a more colloquial way of calling a kiss.

(*****) Continuing with the previous example, Sebastian isn't only correct, but he is a demon whose age hasn't been determined by the author, but who obviously doesn't belong to the 19th century. Personal pronouns such as thee or thou (you or your) fell out of use in the 17th century, except in specific works of literature. Example: any English version you find of 'The Divine Comedy', which dates back to the 14th century, is written in that style of English.

Story dedicated, as always, to Rose Zoldyck (DustySunflower44), Liz Leyva Mariscal (LizzyMichaellis25) and Monse-Michaelis-san (Alei_sama89).

Chapter 15: Who Is She?

Summary:

Special Gift

To: Monse Michaelis—san

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler)

Title: Who Is She?

Characters: Sebastian Michaelis, Ciel Phantomhive, Elizabeth Midford, OC

Synopsis: Ciel Phantomhive had begun to notice that her senior was acting strange. Of course, if his usual attitudes could be considered normal in the first place. This time, however, she was almost certain that Sebastian Michaelis was keeping something from her. Little did he know that he was not only right in his suspicions, but that it was something as strange, and even sinister, as the very circumstances of his encounter with the demon.

Warnings: AU. OoC. sacrifices. Obscene language. Angst. Amnesia. Demons

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Phantomhive Manor

Like every night, Sebastian Michaelis took his master to his room and, after laying him down and tucking him in as usual, he said goodbye to him with almost trained courtesy, and then he turned his back on him and left. All the while, he kept the most absolute, respectful silence. Such behaviour wasn't in the least usual for the man with black hair and crimson eyes at all. However, on the other hand, it was neither the first time something like this had happened nor the only strange thing in the butler's attitude. Although the 21—year—old boy with indigo hair down to his neck and sky—coloured eyes, chose to once again keep his doubts to himself. What he didn't imagine was that Michaelis could only be grateful that he had taken that path. Anyway, though, the demon knew that Ciel had never been someone curious; at least not like his future wife, Elizabeth Midford. Though, fortunately for Michaelis, she was a highly distracted woman. Not to mention ignorant of anything going on around her. Once he verified that his master had fallen asleep, Sebastian left the room, slowly closing the door behind him. He let out a deep breath as he continued down the long corridor, checking to see if the rest of the servants, including Tanaka, had retreated to their rooms as well. Only when he made sure of it did he retire to rest. Which had never been usual for him; however, on this particular night, he had taken it upon himself to finish his chores with the utmost urgency. He even made the preparations for breakfast earlier that his regular schedule.

soon as his eyes closed, he again had the same feeling that someone was watching him. But on none of the previous occasions had he managed to even get a glimpse of that person. That night, however, everything was different. In the first place, a scene that was sadly familiar to him appeared before his eyes, since him himself, or rather his master, had experienced it at the time of their meeting. A huge house was on fire, while a young woman who must not have been older than 13 years old was desperately fleeing from there. Her blue orbs were misted with tears as she exclaimed, her voice cracking with tears, the names of who, probably, from what he could make out between her sobs, were her parents and older brother. He watched her run until she tripped over a huge root sticking out of the rather tall grass floor. However, before she tumbled face first to the ground, she ran into a figure that quickly scooped her up, pressing her face against their chest. Sebastian instinctively raised an eyebrow. He couldn't see her, since she had her back to him; yet, even despite this, he was able to recognize her –or her nature– only by her presence as sinister as his own. In other words, she was another demon.

—I wouldn't dare ask who and why they sent you to spy on me... Just let me warn you one thing... I don't know who the hell you are or what you're doing in this place, but would you please return to him...

—It sounds absurdly ironic that you have forgotten who I am, but instead remember who I serve...

As was the case every time he had such a dream, the image before him faded as he heard the sound of a distant male voice calling his name. It was a voice that he could recognize perfectly and that, just thinking about it, caused an intense pain in his chest that he didn't remember having experienced in all his long existence. But that Sebastian was fully aware that it wasn't physical pain, which alarmed him even more. That woman in front of him wasn't just another demon; he had met her nearly 300 years ago. She was his sister.

—Good grief, Sebastian. Wake up!

The demon opened his eyes slowly and let out an almost involuntary hiss as he heard the Earl's voice practically above him. Particularly, the sharp tone it bore.

—If you'll allow me, young master... your voice doesn't exactly sound like a symphony orchestra in my ears... I'm most certain I'm hearing ear-throbbing mourning... if you understand what I mean...

—I should say the same, Sebastian... —the indigo-haired boy then countered. —Should I honestly ask who Claudia is? And, before you say anything, it's not the first time I've heard you call her... And not precisely while you sleep, since you haven't done it in months...

Michaelis would have responded with some characteristic sardonic comment. As, for instance, highlighting that he was precisely sleeping when he called him with little to none subtlety. However, there was something more important occupying his mind at the moment. His master had heard him call -or mention- his sister in his dreams. He sat up slowly, raising his left hand to his head just to keep from falling forward from the still lingering daze. The times that he slept were scarce, or almost null, simply because it wasn't a primary need for his subsistence. When he did, however, his sleep was extremely light. Therefore, for someone to wake him up in such an abrupt manner was extremely overwhelming. He sighed deeply before turning his crimson gaze to his master as he got up ready to start his day. Ciel chose not to question him further, at least for the time being. His curiosity was great; it was eating at him inside out. However, he was also aware of how reserved Sebastian was about certain situations.

In another place, in the meantime, a 13-year-old girl with long, straight blonde hair gathered in a braid falling over her right shoulder and blue eyes, stopped before the imposing entrance of the mansion she inhabited, slowly descending from her even more majestic shiny jet-black furred horse as a hand with long, slender fingers covered in a black glove was held out to her. Her owner also dressed completely in black, and she even wore black lipstick and her long eyelashes were painted the same shade. Alexia stared at her bodyguard, Claudia, for long seconds, wondering to herself why her appearance seemed to remind her of someone she used to see at gala balls to which she used to be invited, whether by Queen Victoria or by the most powerful man in London; and even the UK. Her Guard Dog, Ciel Phantomhive. That man, practically identical from head to toe to Claudia, was, as she remembered, the Phantomhive's butler, and possibly bodyguard, too. Though, to be honest, she had forgotten his name.

—You'd better hurry, young Alexia. Unless, of course that you want to miss out on seeing the young Earl again...

The blonde girl frowned. She hated that that damned demon reminded her every second, even in the most subtle way, that she could never have Ciel Phantomhive. Not only because they were 8 years apart, but also because he was about to marry his fiancée since they were teenagers. She growled low before reminding Claudia that she was nothing more than her servant and, as such, she could only fulfil her orders, but not question her decisions or opinions. To that, the demoness always responded in the same way, while her intense crimson eyes took on a sinister glow:

—Don't make me remind you that I saved you from death. And that I don't have a contract with you... In other words, neither do I owe you nor you owe me anything...

She was suddenly petrified at her own words. It wasn't the first time that she addressed the girl in this way; however, she had no idea why she did it in the first place. It was true; she had agreed to stay with her without any contract or condition. Nevertheless, she didn't remember that any being like her had ever done such a thing. At that moment, a series of images seemed to return to her mind, one after another. As if they were memories she kept in the back of her head.

"That room was full of people and adorned with the most ostentatious luxury. In other words, it was worthy of that property's owner's arrogance. Though, if she had to be honest, her own mistress wasn't any different from the pedantic personality of Ciel Phantomhive and his usual entourage. Although it was the first time she had attended a celebration at his mansion, she had heard too much about the customs of that young man and his fiancée. The 'honouree' on that occasion, that was. She interrupted her musings when a man not only extremely handsome, but with features as peculiar -or even more so than hers- appeared. He was visibly taller than her but equally slender and dressed in a neat -too much, in her opinion- black uniform. Thus, she assumed that he had to be not only a servant of the Phantomhive mansion but, quite possibly, the butler.

—Welcome... —that man with black hair and crimson eyes said when he received them, with excessive cordiality. Exactly like her —to whom do we owe the honour? My name is Sebastian Michaelis; I am the butler of the Phantomhive mansion... If I can even hold that title, that is...

Alexia didn't hear his last words; she, on the other hand, had heard him perfectly. She was a demon; she could even hear a conversation from miles away. However, she decided to keep her manners and she only replied that her companion was Alexia Voight.

—Daughter of the Earl of Hamburg. I don't remember the Lords not having attended a formal invitation from my master before. Unless...

He stared at her for long seconds, which didn't seem to bother her at all. After a moment, to her surprise, Michaelis' face got slightly sombre, and then he offered his condolences to the younger lady. He nevertheless decided not to question her motives for accompanying the sole heiress of the family. Although he didn't miss the opportunity to do so once Alexia was introduced to the owner of the house –his Master- and his companions. Among which there were their Bengal guests; Prince Soma and his butler, Agni.

—Must I honestly ask what the hell brought you here? I imagine you must not have agreed to voluntarily escort the Duchess...

Claudia arched an eyebrow before directly berating him for facing her like that without even knowing who she was. Unless, of course, that his bastard master had commanded him to do so. It wasn't the first time, and she knew it wouldn't be the last, that she found herself being suddenly – and not subtly – pinned against the wall of that study, while the man in front of her held an unconventional* weapon against her throat. However, to her surprise, he never carried out his threat. Not in that way at least.

—You know I can make you disappear in seconds if I wanted to. And, before you ask, I know perfectly well that you're a demoness. And that's not all; although, apparently, you have forgotten God knows how or why, I also know exactly who you are...

He sighed deeply, taking his gaze away from her for a moment, and then turning his face one last time in her direction. The butler's next words, if such a thing could happen to a demon, chilled her:

—It's been 300 years since our first and only meeting, Aria... Although, apparently, that young lady is completely unaware of what you really are and, therefore, she has given you another name... "

Claudia was shaken from her thoughts when Alexia asked, with an arched eyebrow and a hint of sarcasm in her voice, if it was natural for demons to ponder that way, admitting that it wasn't the first time she had seen her in that situation. The dark-haired woman shook her head, grunted under her breath, cursing the stubborn and pedantic attitude of her little mistress and finally urged the girl to hasten to take her bath, pointing out that the maid had already prepared it as she liked it. After those last words, she smiled sarcastically. The young blonde blithely ignored her, as was her custom, and instead she headed for the private bathroom in her spacious bedroom. When she was alone in that immense room, Claudia approached the window observing the beautiful garden of roses in front of that room of the house, and then she went to a corner of it, near the fireplace, where there was a huge and fine black grand piano. Her only inheritance, beyond her incalculable fortune, left to her by her deceased parents. She sat in front of the piano, pulling her coat to her chest and began to play a soft melody that, once again, brought back the memory of that man with black hair and crimson eyes that she had seen in the Phantomhive mansion. Her own red eyes widened as she finally realized who he really was. Only one person -actually, a demon, like her- knew her by her real name, since, through the centuries and in front of every mortal before whom she had appeared, she did so under the same identity as she had now. That person, that being was her only brother. Such a bond was, in fact, non-existent among demons; however, they had been 'born' on the same new moon night as mortals and had 'died' under the same full moon at just 21 years old. She didn't remember, however, either the reasons or the circumstances in which that had happened. On the other hand, she remembered at that moment that the name she knew him by was Alistair. In other words, just as her 'masters' had known her as Claudia, she guessed that Ciel Phantomhive would have given her brother the name Sebastian Michaelis.

Phantomhive Manor, that night...

As it was his custom, Sebastian went out that night to the main gate of the mansion to receive the guests of his master. To whom, also as usual, he received with utmost cordiality. At last, a carriage pulled by two beautiful and imposing black horses arrived; Ciel didn't remember seeing that transport before. Not to mention that kind of admittedly exquisitely fine equine specimen. Michaelis, for his part, remembered them perfectly. Although he wasn't at all surprised that his master had forgotten who they were, since, although they had attended numerous celebrations, both in his mansion and in the Royal Palace, they weren't the most regular attendees. And he perfectly understood why. In fact, he had been the one to blame for it, to some extent. Of course, he had no business preventing a guest of Queen Victoria from attending her meetings; however, on the contrary, he had almost the absolute power to decide who could -or should- attend the celebrations in the Phantomhive residence. After all, unlike the 'lady' escorting the Earl's guest of honour, he was the mansion's head butler.

—Good evening...

He greeted the three occupants of the carriage (the third, obviously the driver), then opened the door of the carriage and extended his hand to the female passengers. The first to descend from it was Alexia, who instantly locked her blue orbs on Michaelis' crimson ones. Taking advantage, in a certain way, of her mistress's distraction, Claudia got out of the vehicle, walking lightly, trying to go unnoticed. Of course, she didn't make it though, instead of pointing out her lack of manners directly from her, Sebastian offered the girl his arm to lead her into the mansion. When he spotted the dark-haired woman, he apologized to Alexia, excusing himself on the pretext –not entirely false– that he had to make sure everything was in order with the guests.

—Oh, of course, Michaelis-san...

The dark-haired man offered her a small smile before replying that no guest of his master called him that way. In other words, if she wanted, he could just call him Sebastian. Before the young blonde could respond, she realized that the butler was heading towards her bodyguard. And that, after a brief exchange of words, both left the room. Unable to help it, she arched an eyebrow, and immediately tried to follow them. Until a very manly, yet calm voice behind her said:

—I doubt your late parents will agree to your spying on the servants. Was it a custom in Hamburg, perhaps?

Her skin was naturally snowy. When Earl Phantomhive caught her, however, her cheeks turned a reddish hue as intense as those of her demon companion's. However, she would keep her pride intact. She didn't plan to admit her guilt as, if she did, she would be betraying her status as heir to one of the most important members of the German nobility. She therefore simply shook her head and walked away from her host to where Elizabeth was, in the company of two of her servants, Mey-Rin and Finnian, and Prince Soma and Agni.

The two demons, meanwhile, were gathered in the room that Ciel usually used for his studies. After offering a cup of tea to his companion, who wouldn't reject him however unforeseen his presence, was to her, Sebastian Michaelis turned his crimson gaze briefly and sideways to Claudia's equally intense orbs and said, without waiting for her to even try to articulate a sentence:

—I honestly don't know, and I doubt I have any business knowing what brought you here. However, for your sake and that of your protégé, if that is your duty towards that girl, I must beg you please to return to Hamburg... I have never spoken to my master about you; in fact, all he knows about me is strictly what I deemed paramount for our contract to go smoothly...

—Then you also voluntarily agreed to stay by his side... I'm not naïve enough not to have realized that he has fulfilled her wish. However, you didn't get from him what you bargained for, Alistair... I don't remember, in more than 300 years that I have lived, that a demon has had any mercy on his victim...

Sebastian finally turned to face her and, giving her a meaningful smile, he replied that he certainly hadn't managed to take his master's soul. However, he had obtained much more than he would have wished for, just by being faithful to him until the last moment**. Claudia's eyes widened as she understood what he had meant. However, when she tried to question her brother about it, he had turned his back on her, ready to leave. Before he left her there, however, Sebastian looked up over his shoulder at her and stated; his expression unruffled and a tone of utter coldness in his voice:

—And something else. Please forget that you saw me tonight, as well as in all our previous meetings; and never, ever call me that again. In this life, to my current master and his friends, my name is Sebastian Michaelis. And so it will be until the day he decides otherwise...

He left the study slamming the door loudly and then secured the entrance as he was used to doing. He would already find a way to justify the absence of Claudia, or Aria, with her young protégé.

Notes:

Notes: (*) I imagine, my beloved Monse, that you will remember the not at all common 'weapons' used by our favourite demon butler. But, for those who don't know the data (and forgive the spoiler), it is fine silverware.

(**) Here's a spoiler of the final episode in the anime. Sebastian discovers, in attempting to 'collect' his part of the contract from Ciel, that his master's soul is empty. In reality, it has been taken from him by Earl Alois Trancy. Finally, when the butler fulfils his mission, rather than taking the master's soul from him, Ciel is reincarnated as a demon like himself.

And here, this little work dedicated with all my love to the beautiful Alei_sama89 or Monse Michaelis-san for virtual friends.

I hope this is to your liking. And, as I told you, 2000 words would be very little for me. Not to mention #BlackButler is worth it hehe 💗💗😻😻

The Colour Of Death

Summary:

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Title: The Colour of Death

Ship: GrellxSebastian

Characters: Ciel Phantomhive, Elizabeth Midford

Synopsis: Neither Sebastian, much less Earl Phantomhive would have ever thought they would find themselves in such a situation. Mainly considering that the butler was a demon. However, one fateful morning, Ciel discovered that Michaelis could indeed fall prey to something as human as illness. This one, however, wasn't remotely like any he had ever heard of. Unlike his millennia-old butler, that is.

Warnings: AU Canonverse. Implied mention of scenes taken from the original manga series. OoC. Angst. Romance. Reference to historical events.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Streets of London

Sebastian Michaelis, Earl Phantomhive's butler, had gone out that morning, even under the intense storm that was shaking London, after receiving, through a letter from one of Queen Victoria's bodyguards/butlers, a curious message that, in the first place, warned him of a series of strange deaths that had occurred unexpectedly in recent days. And whose victims hadn't suffered any injury at the time of their deaths; in addition to that, they were mainly healthy, without any history of their own or hereditary disease. On the other hand, Charles Grey had expressly requested in the letter that he didn't inform his master about it, or the reason for it, and instead to conduct the investigation completely alone. That was the only order –if he could call it that– which the black-haired, crimson-eyed demon chose to ignore. He wouldn't mention a word to Ciel, even though in a way that meant violating one of the conditions of his contract. However, he was under the impression that he wouldn't be able to solve that situation on his own. Not this time.

And there he was then, walking along the dark and eerily quiet London streets, closely followed, though not exactly accompanied by his 'research partner'. Ironically, he was a being more than a person whom he had detested for what he had been in existence, simply because of his duty. He shook his head, blew out a deep breath, and raised his crimson gaze to the ceiling where Grell Sutcliff stood, of course, carrying her scythe over her shoulder. When the Shinigami with long crimson hair, pale skin and curious green-yellow eyes noticed it, she quickly came down from the ceiling, placing herself next to the demon, without him even managing to separate himself from her. However, and laying one of his hands on the Shinigami's arm when he leaned slightly on his shoulder, Michaelis offered him a brief smile and stated:

—There will be time for that when we're done here, Grell...

The redhead looked at him with her bright green eyes, with a hopeful expression in them.

—Are you serious?

—You know I can't and shouldn't lie to anyone... Though I think I bought a ticket to the Eighth Hell* with the young master...

Neither of them mentioned another word after that brief exchange and instead they continued on their way.

They were surprised not to hear any sounds, not even any birds or vermin of the kind hovering around the area, though they decided to ignore that situation altogether. They wouldn't deny, however, that this wasn't at all normal in London, even at such late night hours. After another two hours with no trace of the possible reason for those deaths, or of new victims, they thought of giving up their search, at least temporarily. However, at that precise moment and thanks to his naturally acute hearing, Sebastian caught a sound that was intermittent, but still perfectly audible, at least to him. This, however, seemed to come from a place far from where they were, so this time, he decided to resort to his equally sharp vision. And that even gave him the ability to see at distances normally impossible for the human eye**. He opened his crimson orbs in a gesture of genuine astonishment, and why not stupor, upon discovering that the sound he heard belonged to children's desperate screams, mixed with adult voices that seemed to exclaim expletives. On the other hand, he further discovered that the latter came from a mob of angry adults, mostly men, with torches in their hands. The roaring laugh of the Shinigami, standing a couple of steps from the butler, caused him to turn towards him with an arched eyebrow.

—Honestly, I don't see the point of it, Grell... Think that you could be the one who has to face the fire. After all, your faith is as worthless, non-existent rather, as mine...***

—That sounds tempting, Sebas-chan... —said the redhead, showing one of her usual smiles —However, faith has little to do with this situation... You've seen it; you know that not only heretics were persecuted and burned. Especially when it comes to that kind of crowd...

The demon stifled an exclamation of surprise at the Shinigami's words. Indeed, he could clearly remember another situation in which the people who experienced it ended up being persecuted and burned in the belief that only in this way would they eliminate the evil that afflicted them. Or, rather, that had possessed them. That was, the Black Death that shook Great Britain in the 14th century. He clearly remembered that it could come in three forms and primarily affect one area of the body in each case. However, they all had symptoms in common, such as an excessive increase in body temperature and alterations of various kinds in the blood, such as inflammation of the vessels, which prevented normal coagulation****. He turned his face towards the Shinigami upon hearing the not-too-disguised exclamation of surprise on her part. That, too, made him realize that he had been voicing his thoughts out loud. Far from even being embarrassed, he shook his head and, looking straight ahead as he started walking again, he announced that they had work to do.

In a nearby alley, meanwhile, a group of people literally cornered two teenagers no older than 12 years old, raising their torches in front of them, while uttering insults and curses of all kinds. The two youths could only defend themselves by hugging each other, trembling desperately. Until, when three subjects were about to throw their torches at them, not only did they disappear without them even noticing, but they also noticed as a scream of deep agony arose from their throats that four fingers -all except the thumb- had been cut of the hand in which they held the burning piece of wood. They turned to where the teenagers were, realizing that they had disappeared and that, in their place, there was a man standing in his full imposing stature. They didn't remember having seen him before, but his very appearance was so sinister that it caused a shock. chill on their back.

—I must say that it would be good for you to flee at this moment... —the butler murmured, with a visibly threatening tone and, in addition, one of his customary lopsided smiles. —My... escort is armed. Not to mention she'd get more than good use out of your souls...

However, it wasn't in his plans to allow them to flee. Therefore, and while Grell seemed to rejoice in anticipation of what was to come, Michaelis assumed his demon form, much to the horror of the three subjects, getting rid of them in a matter of seconds. It had been a fortune that there were no other people than those bastards. Once his 'homework' was done, Sebastian shook his hands with a disgusted scowl on his face, as if he really was removing dirt from it. Afterwards, he sighed deeply with his eyes closed and, finally, he went to where Grell was with the two brothers. He stopped in front of them, squatting down to their height, and his eyes widened as he noticed some peculiar, deep purple patches rather than simple markings on the bare shoulders of one of them. The boy, 13 years old, medium-sized, practically languid, with dishevelled brown hair and skin practically pale except for a slight reddening on his cheeks raised his grey-violet eyes to the man in front of him, a look of horror on his face.

—P-please... stay away if you don't intend to die... Nobody should get close..."

Ignoring the teen's pleas, Michaelis barely turned his crimson gaze on the other boy, who lay asleep (or unconscious); leaning slightly against the young man he was talking to. He carefully removed his barely partially open shirt, discovering on his chest the same marks his brother had on his shoulders. That definitely couldn't be possible. At least, if it was what he supposed. He had had the opportunity, so to speak, to witness first-hand the greatest outbreak of this strange and extremely deadly disease, in British territory around mid-1300s. It had spread mainly in London and Southampton. He shook his head turning his attention back to the young men in front of him and, raising his crimson eyes briefly to Grell, he asked her to get back to her companions. Honestly, he wasn't in the mood to deal with an exasperated –and infuriating– William Spears at the moment.

—These kids need attention... And someone needs to check in with Grey. And if I'm being honest, leaving that task to you makes my blood run cold. If something like this is possible...

Reluctantly, Grell finally nodded. Though, of course, she wouldn't leave without giving him a not too discreet goodbye kiss. As soon as she had turned his back on him, however, she heard a very unpleasant sound and, when she turned back to the demon, Sutcliff realized that his shirt, pristinely white, was stained with blood, while the boy he was holding in his arms had blood at the corner of the lips. As he slowly got to his feet, carrying both young men with him, Sebastian offered her a barely subtle smile, assuring her that she had nothing to worry about. His expression however darkened almost immediately and, glancing at the two brothers, as if he had just noticed something, he then returned his gaze to the Shinigami, without saying a word. As if he expected Sutcliff to understand him with that gesture alone. And, indeed, the redhead did, since she stated simply and, strangely, without any expression on her face:

—I was indeed to collect their souls... And you should return to your master. Though I doubt you want to present yourself to him like that...

He approached Michaelis again, leaving yet another kiss, although, this time, on the dark-haired man's cheek; then, he disappeared. Sebastian looked down at his uniform then, realizing that he should definitely go back to the mansion and change. What he did not imagine was that that bloodstain, notorious by the way, wouldn't be the only 'mark' that he would receive from this unusual mission.

Phantomhive Manor, that morning...

Ciel woke up somewhat surprised that morning at not having received breakfast from Sebastian, as usual, but instead it was the elderly butler Tanaka who informed him that tea was served in the main room. And that his future wife and his in-laws were also there. When he joined them, after washing himself and dressing appropriately, he immediately noticed the expression of not only sadness, but also concern on the face of the woman with curly blonde hair and jade orbs. He gently took her hand and, unable to prevent sadness from replicating in his own sky-coloured gaze, he asked if something had happened that he should know about; and, also, if it had anything to do with Sebastian's unforeseen absence. Tanaka answered for the blonde lady, pointing out that he had been in the dark-haired man's room moments before and that, apparently, he didn't look too good. It was evident that his complexion was naturally pale, though he wasn't sure, nor would he ask why. However, it looked slightly flushed, plus he had a thin layer of sweat on his face. Not to mention that it was more than obvious that something seemed to be making it extremely difficult for him to breathe.

—His breathing, you say?

Elizabeth asked in surprise. Although, before she could add anything, or even think about questioning his fiancé about it, Ciel was already on the stairs, heading to his butler's room. Once there, he knocked on the door a couple of times and with some impatience; until, the third time he insisted, he finally heard Michaelis' voice on the other end, even though what he heard made his blood run cold. Not just because of the tone in which he uttered his response, but rather because of his actual words:

—Young master, please... you must not be here... My duty is to protect you... And I would be endangering your life if I allowed you to come near..."

Phantomhive heard him cough loudly, which only caused a lump to form in his chest. He wasn't sure what was going on with his butler, but he needed to find out somehow. Therefore, categorically ignoring Michaelis' warnings, he managed to open the door by pushing it hard, stopping next to the dark-haired man. As he had been warned, the demon's face was bathed in sweat, in addition to presenting a very unusual reddish tone in a being of his kind on his cheeks. He tried to put a hand on his face, but Sebastian stopped him, pleading with him not to even dare to touch him. If he did, he himself might contract the disease he had caught.

—I am sorry... to have broken our contract, young master... But... it would have been extremely risky for you to face... something like that... Not even a being like me was able to escape this. I'm afraid... This is definitely... not the Plague...

Alarmed, the Earl asked if he meant what he was thinking. He received no response, however, as Michaelis sat up abruptly and began to cough even more violently. Suddenly he took off his grey vest and white uniform shirt as if they were in his way, exposing to the Earl's horrified gaze a series of ominous-looking purple patch-like spots that spread down his right side, from the shoulder to your waist line. The demon himself seemed horrified. He knew then that, in fact, the feeling of intense heat and suffocation that invaded him as soon as he reached his room had been a fever. And that he didn't have much time left before those spots spread all over his body. When he seemed to calm down at least enough, despite the fact that the pain still persisted, Sebastian explained, as briefly and concisely as he could, the details of the mission he had carried out with Grell. And behind his back. He also pointed out, obviously, that the corpses that he had found presented, for the most part, the same characteristics, or the same symptoms that he was experiencing at that moment. However, it was likely that someone had somehow replicated the strain that originally caused that pandemic. Considering that it was a bacterium from the fleas of a rodent*****.

—Sutcliff was with you, right? I'll talk to her; you rest. It's obvious that whatever you've contracted is causing you too much pain... I don't remember seeing you like this even on that occasion...

Michaelis was about to protest. However, his body was not willing to allow that possibility, or to let him rest. He didn't remember anything like this happening to him before, but suddenly he found himself literally torn between lucidity and unconsciousness, while he could hear himself babbling incoherently. Was he delusional, perhaps? Could it be possible?

At dawn the next day, despite the warnings of both Ciel and the rest of the servants, and plunged into utter despair, a slim and rather refined female hand suddenly pressed a cloth practically soaked in ice water rather than moistened on the butler's forehead, then carefully wiped away the sweat on his face and the dried blood on his lips. The dark-haired man slowly opened his eyes, covering himself with his left arm, which, he noticed at that moment, was bandaged. Ditto his torso and right arm to just below his elbow. In other words, his movements were visibly restricted. He coughed a couple of times, which did nothing but put intense pressure on his chest and back. He smiled bitterly, stating towards his companion that, if she didn't value her life enough to fulfil the request of the man she loved, at least she would do him the favour of put down the lights. He had a feeling that his head was about to explode, and even his body heat felt almost like that of an ordinary mortal.

—I don't understand exactly what you mean, Sebastian... —said the curly-haired blonde. —For now, I'm just glad you woke up. However... Ciel mentioned that someone deliberately killed those children... And that, indeed, the method was likely a replica of...

—It is impossible to obtain, or create a replica of a disease if there is no living thing to obtain a blood sample from, Lady Elizabeth. In addition, that particular bacterium completely destroyed the blood cells of those who contracted it... However, there are diseases with similar characteristics and symptoms to those of the plague. Not to mention the mortality rate. I estimate that our culprit must have had at least minimal medical knowledge. However, I wouldn't like to imagine how perverse that mind may have been to create something capable of affecting a being like me...

Elizabeth didn't understand what he had meant by 'a being like him'. However, she decided to ignore her hesitation and instead turned her jades to the somewhat tired crimson gaze of the demon, pointing out that Ciel had mentioned to her that he had had a conversation with his partner on the mission. And that, unfortunately, after exhaustive investigations, they hadn't been able to find a definitive cure for that disease. Michaelis sighed, pointing out that he had already fulfilled the purpose for which his fiancé had sought him out. If he stayed by his side it was simply because he had decided to. And, if he died trying to protect the Earl, he would gladly do so. Strange that she could hear such things from someone like him. Hearing that expression again, the blonde with curls couldn't contain her curiosity and, even though she was aware of the state Michaelis was in, she asked what he was referring to. The butler smiled. He had waited for this moment for a long time, even if he had to face Midford's more than logical reaction. Therefore, asking her almost in a whisper to come closer, he said:

—Milady Elizabeth, there is... something I probably should have mentioned to you a long time ago. However... I doubted that you were ready to accept it at that moment... I don't know if you've heard of the sacrifice my master, your fiancé, was subjected to... He had to give a life, that of his twin, to a demon when he was only 10 years old... I was that demon; I have blindly served his revenge as Sebastian Michaelis ever since that day...

He slowly closed his eyes. He felt fatigue take over him once more. However, he wouldn't give in until he finished her story. Or until he had spoken his last words.

—You can... in fact you have every right to hate me if you want to. Just know that... I don't regret not honouring our contract. Much less having met him...

He definitively closed his eyes, falling deeply asleep, although a small smile adorned his peculiar and already pale features again. Lizzie's jades clouded slightly before she answered, despite the fact that her intended listener would obviously no longer hear her.

—Hate you? Do you really think I could, Sebastian? That's ridiculous...

She approached the black-haired man, covered him with the blanket he was wearing when he felt him shiver slightly in his sleep, and before leaving, she smiled at him and said:

—Perhaps you have been the only one who managed to get Ciel out of his loneliness. And I will never forget that...

With that said, she finally withdrew, closing the door behind her.

Notes:

Author Notes:

(*) Dante: In his Divine Comedy, the Eighth Hell is destined for those who have committed different forms of fraud. According to the contract between the two, Sebastian cannot lie; Dante sees the demons, whatever their form, as fraudulent and treacherous beings and therefore they are in this circle.

(**) Sebastian repeatedly mentions that he is gifted with a sense of smell and vision much more acute than that of an ordinary human. In the Arc of the Green Witch of the manga, it is thanks to his vision that they find the cabin in Germany where she takes refuge.

(***) Following with Dante. In his Divine Comedy, as well as in records about persecutions carried out in the XIII-XIV centuries, heretics were condemned to burn at the stake. Joan of Arc is the most 'popular' historical case on record.

(****) The Black Death that hit England in 1348 manifested itself in three ways. Bubonic, characterized by intense fever and vomiting of blood; pneumonic, which directly affected the lungs, also producing episodes of high fever, cough and vomiting of blood; and septic, which directly attacked the blood vessels, producing purple spots, which were caused by the blood vessels failing to clot properly.

(*****) In relation to the previous note, this bacterium was transmitted by rodent fleas. More precisely, the rats.

This one-shot goes with a special dedication to AyrtonSantiago, as a special gift for his beautiful editions for another project I'm working on.

Also, as anime fans, and because I can't help it, I dedicate it to DustySunflower44, who needs some pampering, Alei_sama89 and LizzyMichaellis25.

Chapter 17: Gathering Of Black Souls (Special)

Summary:

Fandom: Crossover Crack Kuroshitsuji-Sabrina the Teenage Witch

Title: Black Souls Gathering

Characters: Sebastian Michaelis, Salem, Ciel Phantomhive, Sabrina Spellman

Synopsis: It was well-known that Sebastian had an, in the very personal opinion of his master, absurd obsession with cats. On the other hand, he also had a peculiar habit of having 'conversations' with the mansion's pet cat which, by the way, his master detested. However, not even in his wildest dream would the demon butler have imagined that, one day, he wouldn't only have an extremely peculiar encounter with a talking cat, but he would also take advantage of one of his almost non-existent moments of absolute solitude to have a conversation with his peculiar guest.

Warnings: OoC. Comedy. AU. Crossover Anime-TV Series. Fancy. Witches. Demons. Post-anime events.

Notes:

Notes: This is my first experience (and maybe the last) in this style of crossover. But I saw a meme on Face and I was like, 'Seb and Salem look so much alike! So fine, let it be what the coven wants.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Phantomhive Mansion, year 1900

That was strange to him, but that afternoon Sebastian Michaelis was completely alone in the mansion on the outskirts of London to which they had moved 10 years ago, after his last battle caused the total destruction -for the second time- of his master's home. This had been rebuilt by him at the time of their encounter, shortly after making their contract. What had become of his deal with the Earl? Ciel Phantomhive was now exactly like him; he hadn't managed to take his soul from him even when the indigo-haired noble asked him to. He shook his head and looked up from the yellowed-leaf book he was reading, and which he had taken from the mansion's huge library and then closed it. It was strange for his master to leave the mansion on his own. Actually, he wasn't completely alone, but he had left with his wife, Elizabeth Phantomhive, neé* Midford.

He left the library and decided to make some tea to take to the garden. The weather was simply splendid to relax and take a moment away from his daily routine. Even despite the fact that he didn't need it, given the nature of his self. Nor was it essential for his existence to be fed or hydrated. However, and to be completely honest, he had to attribute his acquisition of such unusual habits to the new Countess. He laughed to himself and hid his face with his left hand while he went to the large kitchen to make the infusion. To be honest, he had no appetite, so once tea was ready, he served it in a pot on a tray, with a single cup, and headed out into the garden. Although, before he turned to change direction, something like a foreboding made him retrace his steps and grab a second cup from the shelf where he kept them neatly stored. He smiled wistfully at the obsessively perfect order each item was placed in the respective cupboards in the kitchen, and couldn't help but remember his master's maid, Mey-Rin. A woman that, contrary to him, was deliberately clumsy and clueless. Though, to be honest, that was just a consequence of her poor eyesight. She was a trained sniper, with perfect medium and long range vision. However, on the other hand, she was unable to see less than a finger's length away. Or, to put it another way, she wouldn't see what was right under her nose.

—Oh dear... —he thought to himself, shaking his head, the tray in his hand not even trembling. —The young master would surely think I'm getting too sentimental. However, sometimes I can't help it...

—Hmmm... Let me think about it; whoever you are... are you really sorry you're experiencing human emotions?"

Hearing those words, quite unexpected, since he was certain he was alone in the mansion Michaelis almost dropped the tray in his hand. And, along with it, the fine crockery on it on the perfectly mowed lawn of the garden space where his master used to drink his tea. Not to mention the steaming brew in the kettle; although that wouldn't have been a problem, since he was almost immune to pain. He searched everywhere for the owner of that evidently male voice but, on the contrary, not exactly human. She set the tray down on a low table, around which there were four chairs neatly arranged and looked down to find, to his surprise, a huge cat with short, shiny jet-black fur that looked nothing like the one he used to live with. Among many others, that he was in charge of hiding from his master, who not only hated them, but was actually allergic to their fur. All of them, however, were simple domestic cats; that is, he used to talk to them, so to speak, but they would never answer. The truth is that, seeing him, the butler was completely petrified. He felt the impulse to take him in his arms, however he declined that option. Such attitude seemed to surprise even him. The cat, meanwhile, remained unmoved, watching him.

—I'm afraid the mice got his tongue. Oh; that sure sounds strange coming from someone like me...

The feline's curious greenish orbs were suddenly fixed on the even rarer crimson eyes of the man in front of him, while the butler could only stare at him without even saying a word. That was, without a doubt, unusual in him. Sebastian blinked repeatedly, trying to get out of that kind of trance and, when he finally got it, he stated as if speaking to himself that he probably should have heeded Elizabeth's warnings and taken a break. He was no longer the same as when he met his master, after all.

—Should I ask what or who you were? —the cat questioned —Oh, wait; you shouldn't be able to hear me if you were a mere human. My mistress is, but... Let's just say she has something like special abilities to communicate with me...

Michaelis seemed to understand that this feline wasn't exactly ordinary when he heard those words. Throughout his long existence, he had certainly heard of –and come across- beings endowed with inhuman abilities who were subjected to spells or curses in which they were imprisoned in an animal's body. Or, otherwise, legendary beasts encased in human bodies. In fact, in a way, his original form was anything but human; indeed, it was under all circumstances abominable to look at. He sighed deeply, shook his head, and finally –and for the first time– responded to the cat's words.

—Sebastian Michaelis. That is, at least, the name my master decided to give me. I don't know what the hell happened to you, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm just a demon... If you've heard of such a thing, wherever you come from, I made a contract with my master... Let me keep the details of it to myself. ...

—No need... —the black cat replied, watching Sebastian calmly sip from his cup of tea. —I think it's up to me to 'return the favour'. I reckon you must have noticed that I am no ordinary house cat. My mistress only knows me as Salem, and that is indeed my name. Moreover, and although it may not seem like it, I am 500 years old and I was once human; a witch, more precisely...

He went on to explain to the butler the circumstances in which he had ended up with that form. That is to say, he told him about his ambitions to conquer the world, about his 'infidelities' and traps towards the witches of his community. And, finally, he explained that the highest body among wizards, the Council, had sentenced him to live for 100 years as a cat, in charge of a human woman named Zelda Spellman. She, too, was a witch, as were her sister Hilda and her niece Sabrina. The latter, he concluded, was his current mistress.

—I think now I deserve a more coherent explanation, don't I?

Sebastian could clearly detect the obvious sarcasm in the cat's words. After all, it was also his favourite way of addressing his master on occasion. And it was also Ciel's own to address certain people who weren't to his liking, while he only did it as a joke; most of the time that was. He shook his head and, turning his crimson orbs back to Salem, he stood as he picked up the tray, motioning for his companion to follow him into the mansion. Once again, Salem looked at him curiously, asking him after a brief moment of silence –quite comfortable for both of them, by the way– if his master wouldn't mind if he brought a stranger into his property. He didn't turn to see him at the question; however, an otherwise significant smile was reflected on Michaelis' face. The silence lasted for a few more minutes until, finally, the black-haired demon answered:

—If I have to be honest, this isn't something that happens often, but I'm alone right now. My master went out in the company of his wife and ordered me to wait here... As for the staff of the mansion, I am also the only one. However, I can tell that he would definitely be upset if he saw you... —He laughed subtly and covered his lips with his gloved right hand before continuing. —Unless, of course that you have learned how to disappear, if you really are a sorcerer...

—I guess there's no need to answer that. By the way, there is something that makes me very curious... Why Sebastian Michaelis?

The demon didn't respond for a long time. Instead, they entered the mansion's vast main room, where they made their way to an antique carved wooden table surrounded by four copper-coloured chairs upholstered in blue**. Salem literally jumped on one of them, snuggling into the soft upholstery, causing a scowl of mock disgust on Sebastian's pale face, which was quickly replaced by one of his usual wry smiles. The demon hoped that it would have gone unnoticed by his feline companion; however, Salem made a grimace similar to raising an eyebrow in his direction when Michaelis returned his gaze and asked the reason for that gesture. Perhaps, he pointed out, deepening the scowl on his face a little more, there was something he hadn't mentioned about him yet. Or about his master who, in fact, he hadn't even told him what his name was. The smile never left the butler's face, pondering the details that he had not yet told his guest; particularly, those concerning his origin and his contract with Ciel.

—Let me think... —he finally said, taking a seat in a small one-piece chair next to the little table —First of all, I must warn you that my master despises cats as much as I do dogs. Let's say that... just seeing them from afar gives him an allergy...

A deep sigh escaped his lips almost unintentionally before continuing. He had never spoken to anyone about the details of his contract with Earl Phantomhive. Yet at the same time, he was aware that Salem was right. He had revealed his 'dark secret' to him. The least he deserved was retribution for it. He sighed again, while the black cat wondered if that demon had lived so long among humans as to have even adopted their habits.

—On the other hand, and as I mentioned, he gave me the name Sebastian Michaelis; precisely, his deceased pet, a dog, had that same name...

The not-so-subtle tinge of disgust in both the butler's face and voice didn't escape Salem's attention. In fact, had he been able to laugh, he would have without hesitation. However, he just nodded indicating that he had understood and that he could continue the conversation. Sebastian nodded at that silent gesture.

—I believe that understanding the circumstances of my meeting with my master shouldn't be difficult for someone related to the dark arts... Magic and witchcraft were seen as such in the fourteenth century...

A new sigh escaped his lips. He felt a strange tightness in his chest; as if remembering that experience at that point was a torture for him as great as the sacrifice that brought him to that world had been for Ciel. He needed to finish –or start- his story; however, first of all, he needed to calm down. And that, if he was to be honest, worried him as he didn't remember him anything to have done it before. Except for the extreme situations he had experienced with his master on more than one occasion.

—His name's Ciel Phantomhive... —he began his story, after a new and deeper breath —my master, I mean. When he was just a 10-year-old boy, he was sold along with his twin to a cult. They forced him to deliver his brother as a sacrifice to summon a demon... I guess I shouldn't explain who it was. I can't, it's not up to me to show myself to anyone other than the Earl, but I can only tell you that my appearance is even more terrifying than imagining the Satan of the Ninth Hell***. Finally, our contract was that I assisted him in his revenge against the murderers of his family; in exchange for it, I would get his soul. As far as the formal aspects of our contract are concerned, there are three conditions that I must fulfil without fail. Never betray him; follow his orders and serve him without question; and, finally, never lie to him... You must imagine that something similar would be impossible in a being of my nature...

—Ours too, Michaelis... —Salem replied. —You mentioned that you've heard about us witches and wizards. Therefore, I suppose you must know about our nature. In fact, that was the reason for the state I am currently in. And I still have more than a century left until my penance is over...

Sebastian blinked, confused. Had he said more than a century? What era, exactly, did that creature belong to? He remembered that he had told him about the real age of his human identity. That is, he was 500 years old; he had also told him that he had to remain in cat form for this last century. They were in the 19th century. Salem probably came from...

—The 20th century... —he muttered, with a slight and most unusual tremor in his voice —exactly what year and place do you come from?

—Boston, Massachusetts; year 2003. I know very well that we are in London, in the Victorian era... However, I cannot explain to you how I got here. On the other hand, Michaelis, I'm afraid it's time to leave. No one but someone endowed with supernatural abilities should see me. And I have the impression that the owners of the house returned...

At the butler's surprised, confused, and even frightened look, Salem vanished from his sight as if he had never been there. That wasn't all, however. When he tried to stand up again, he felt the room around him spin, and he tried to hold on to a nearby wall, but he failed. Shortly after that, darkness completely took over his consciousness as soon as he managed to take a step. Only distant screams from voices he was unable to recognize reached his ears. Seconds later, he lost consciousness, collapsing unseemly on the living room rug.

—Sebastian! For God's sake, please wake up! What the hell is wrong with you?

He knew it was the voice of his master, but he was unable to move even to open his eyes and try to focus his gaze on the man next to him. When a second voice, feminine and clearly desperate, made itself heard, however, he slowly and painfully opened his eyes, quietly asking the owner of that voice to try to control herself. He blinked to clear his vision and, finally looking at the married couple beside him, he asked what had happened. To that, Earl Phantomhive replied as he rested his hand on the dark-haired man's shoulder, preventing him from even trying to get up:

—Sometimes you alarm me, Sebastian. You've been sleeping all this time. However... you seemed to be having a rather interesting conversation with a... —He feigned a loud sneeze and continued, —with one of those furry devil creatures... Have you had any nightmares, strange dreams, lately?

Sebastian sat up so abruptly that it caused a brief sensation of electricity to run down his spine. However, he felt no pain other than a constant throbbing in his left temple. Even his vision was a little blurry. However, he decided to ignore that. Instead, he turned his gaze to Ciel and explained as briefly as he could what had happened. Of course, he had expected the Earl to react the way he did when he mentioned that there were cats involved in his dream, or whatever that was. However, he seemed relieved -although he didn't know why- to know that that black cat was nothing more than a human under a spell. Not to mention the fact that he, apparently, would never see it. He sighed at that last thought and, moving a little closer to the bed and resting a hand on the butler's forehead, the man with indigo hair and sky-coloured eyes shook his head:

—I think I have warned you, on more than one occasion, to take a break. Remember that, even though you are still a demon...

—My strength is not the same... —completed the butler with black hair and crimson eyes —But don't worry; I still... I can still protect you. Anyway, I'm afraid that now I have to lecture you like that time****...

Ciel sighed, throwing a 'yes, whatever you say' into the air, practically inaudible except to Sebastian's ears. The butler smiled as he lay back down. A dream; in the end, that peculiar encounter had turned out to be nothing more than a dream. Or perhaps it had been a kind of joke of his somewhat despondent mind. Apparently, the years with Ciel, but, mainly, the consequences of his contract –or the partial breach of it-, were already taking their toll on him. On the other hand, the image of Salem wouldn't disappear from his mind for several days, months; perhaps, even years. After all, such an encounter wasn't an everyday occurrence; not even for him, a demon and, therefore, a supernatural creature like that feline.

Meanwhile, in another place completely oblivious to that reality that seemed taken from a story, a black cat slowly opened its eyes, letting out an involuntary yawn. Had he really dreamed this, or did the being he had seen exist in some kind of alternate reality? He wasn't sure what to think, but he could tell one thing for sure. He wouldn't forget the name Sebastian Michaelis for the remainder of his punishment. And even after he had fulfilled it and returned to his original human form. He was silently grateful that none of his two mistresses –there were actually three of them, but one of them had married and left home some time ago– was home at that time. Probably, in addition to taking him for ambitious, arrogant and sarcastic, they would now also take him for crazy if he told them about his experience.

—To hell with it... —he whispered, letting out a frustrated sigh. —After all, they're witches too. I mean, strange beings, right? I'm only sorry I didn't meet that boy... I think he said that Ciel was his name... Sell his soul to a demon? What the hell was he thinking?

He smiled sarcastically at those last words. Not even he himself would believe his feigned astonishment. A yawn suddenly escaped his small mouth and, curling up on the back of the chair where he was, he was asleep in a matter of seconds. A pair of intense crimson orbs was the first image he saw as soon as his own eyes shut. It was later followed a curious symbol that he knew very well. He had never summoned demons; however, he was no stranger to the rituals of said satanic cults.

Notes:

So far this Crossover attempt between Kuroshitsuji and Sabrina, the Teenage Witch!

I sincerely hope that it is to the greatest liking of him!

And here, as always, the pertinent notes.

(*) Née: is the denomination, in French, for a woman's maiden name. It literally means 'born'.

(**) It was common in the fashion of decorating Victorian homes that large simple armchairs, made of copper-coloured iron and upholstered in general with dark tones were placed in the main room. The most commonly used colours were blue, maroon, black, or even white.

(***) As I have repeated several times, allusions to Dante and his masterpiece, the Divine Comedy, cannot be missing from my stories. In this case, Sebastian makes reference to his actual demonic appearance being just as creepy as Alighieri's vision of Satan. A winged being, with a deformed face and horns and whose body is not complete because it is sunk up to the hip in Cocytos, the frozen river, which is the punishment for Traitors.

This 'peculiar' one-shot goes with a special dedication to my beautiful DustySunflower44. Of course, I also dedicate it to Alei_sama89, LizzyMichaellis25 and AyrtonSantiago, but Rose is... special. And the girls know it. 💗💗💗

Chapter 18: Fantasy Come True

Summary:

Weekly Challenges

Repechage: Idioms

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Title: Fantasy Come True

Characters: Sebastian Michaelis, Ciel Phantomhive, Elizabeth Midford, Grell Sutcliff

Special Guests: DustySunflower and VirginofAquarius (jojo, you'll see what this is about).

Synopsis: Two enthusiastic fickers suddenly find themselves in one of their favourite anime universes. What will happen when that long-awaited meeting with their beloved characters occurs?

Warnings: AU What If. OoC. Self—Insert. Foul language (mild). Fancy. Idioms. Modernism.

Notes:

First of all, this is a self-insert, including yours truly and my beautiful friend Rose Zoldyck (DustySunflower44). It also goes with all love to Alei_sama89 and LizzyMichaellis25. 💗💗💗

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

#black butler fanfiction

0 notes

madmanwonder · 1 year

Note

Type: Ask

Summary of the Question: How does Bleiss act like towards Garnet?

The same way she act toward Jeanne. Lust and affection.

#rwby #bleiss schnee #male!ruby rose #garnet rose #jeanne arc #fem!jaune arc

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therealmofamorus · 2 years

Note

Ask (Original au) "Ship bias" for Garnet Rose

Garnet x Weiss: A lesson in respect and obedience

Garnet x Blake: Kitty love her Master

Garnet x Raven: Raven truly adore her stepson

Garnet x Jeanne: Too dorks with too much libido and stamina for their own good

Garnet x Olivia: Time to seed the farmland

#rwby #rwby smut #m!ruby rose #weiss schnee #garnet rose (male ruby rose)#blake belladonna #raven branwen #fem!jaune arc #fem!oscar pine #jaune arc #oscar pine #original male stud au #original male stud ask #ship bias meme #shipping post #shipping ask

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katsukikitten · 3 years

Text

Just some general warnings and disclaimers, this is an aged up Victorian era AU that I did a sort of collab with @bakugotrashpanda, so please check out BTP’s work as well. We had so much fun discussing this idea and breathing life into it, we would love to hear how these stories made you feel. Please also note that the woman in the banner is NOT the set skin tone for reader so please feel free to have that match your own skin tone! Also this is one of my bigger works coming in at a little over 14,000 words! (maybe a part two idk) but enjoy~

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food.

Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not.

Countless eyes rake over your long dress, always choosing a color so deep in hue it is often mistaken for black. They often murmur curiosities as they ponder over what exactly you are mourning.

Little do they know it is your freedom.

Tonight you are in blood red with matching gloves to your elbows, diamonds, garnets and rubies drip from your throat and ears. A sight to be seen in your bold dark colors that are often frowned upon during the bright season of spring and summer.

A bold male approaches and yet the closer he gets to your stunning form the more meek he becomes. He nods his head and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to your gloved knuckles.

"May I have your first dance?" He peers up at you as you stare down with an icy glare. Removing your hand with deadly precision from a man you know of but could not care less about.

"You may not." You say simply and all he can do is stew in his rejection, affirming your wishes with a small nod. Another male in a smooth storm grey suit approaches. His large hand grasping onto your fingers, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

"You look exquisite my dear. Would you honor me with your first dance?"

"I shall not." Another subtle yet swift removal of your hand from his, wishing you had worn two pairs of gloves for this sniveling little asshole. Not everyone knew his secret love for abusing women but you did. He would never get the pleasure of dancing with you and in the two years since your introduction into the market you've made sure he had no one to wed. Using the power and respect people had towards your Father's name, towards you for guidance, ultimately steering them away from this pathetic sack of bones.

And with your power you were dubbed the icy hot debutante of Alryne, fierce as a flame so hot, it felt cold.

You wear a neutral face, but you do not smile, making yourself a touch unapproachable. This already weeds out the weak men who want nothing more than to suck the blood and money from your father's estate.

But it wasn't as if the neutral face was easy to achieve, oftentimes you had to fight a scowl. For two years you've hated every second of every ball, party, or soiree since the Queen smiled in your favor during your first debut. She often praised, as did your mother, your cold precision, quick wit, and intelligent political decisions that were so well disguised that men just thought you modest.

When in actuality you were playing the game, and since you were being forced to play by your father then by Hell's flames you would win it all.

The first half of the ball drags in stupor of tedious repetition as you idly chat with women of various titles to gather any information you could without revealing your own hand.

Besides all of the pestering gnats, everyone knows that your first dance is always reserved for important males, to never approach until after the two of your six stamps have already been taken. Even then there was a high chance of rejection, as there were no men of value to be seen.

At least not yet. For as long as you could remember the higher ranked males arrived a touch late, "fashionably late" they claim. Abhorrently annoying is what you call it.

Fashionably late men such as Lord Bakugou, son to the Duke of Summer or his distant cousin Lord Kirishima, son to the Duke of Spring.

Bakugou arrives first, his grin wolfish as he scans the crowd, women flock to his arrogance in troves, although he ignores them. He has one woman in his sights yet it is not the woman he stands before. You give a small courtesy as you speak.

"My Lord." Offering your hand gently.

"My Starlight." He presses his lips to your silky glove for a long moment unable to keep his cocky smirk off of his face, "May I take your first dance?"

Fighting to keep the delighted smile off of your face you offer a flutter of your lashes. He kisses your knuckles once more as if you needed convincing but the two of you know what you are doing.

"You may." And with that his wolfish grin returns as he sweeps you onto the dance floor, showcasing your abilities as he shows off his own. Not to mention the dance floor is a great place to talk in private. His hand lingers just above your lower back, firm in his grip as his other hand holds yours almost delicately.

"We match tonight, my Starlight. A brilliant touch." He guides you along the floor with ease, his eyes gesturing towards his vest and tie.

"I only took an educated guess as to what you would wear, my Lord."

"Do not sell yourself short. I know how sharp that mind is." Another wolfish grin, his eyes never leaving yours while feeling the court gaze upon the two of you. You give him a knowing smile before asking.

"Any luck with her majesty, the prized diamond?" You ask, eyes blazing with curiosity. He smirks again, only his eyes revealing his true scoff as he twirls you in your jeweled slippers.

"I did as you instructed and went with my father to that dreaded stay at the countryside Manor, how did you know her Majesty and Princess Amila would be close by."

"I took an educated guess." A blatant lie that has him grinning from ear to ear. He leans closer, pulling the attention of the ladies especially as his ember eyes burn into you.

"Far more than an educated guess." He spins you again and you fight the tightness in your gut. Enjoying the dance as he parades you around the room as if to say look at what I have that you could never.

Even if the two of you agreed you would never be his. The two of you having struck up an arrangement of sorts on your first dance. He was forced by his Grace to ask at least one woman to dance and he had only chosen you with hopes that you would say no.

But you loved the honest, irritated look that lingered in his eyes and on his lips. So of course you said yes as misery loves company. It was then he told you not to fall for him as he had his eyes set on the Crown, you laughed loudly and said "As if I would ever fall for an arrogant pig such as yourself, my Lord." His smile was wild as he enjoyed your insult, it was then you told him you would help him with the Crown, only if he made you his first and last dance of the evening at every event.

Back then he had hesitantly agreed, now he can see how far your scheming mind went. Saw the numerous callers and suitors who loitered in your parlor, the extravagant flowers that they sent in excess. The rings they bestowed to you as they dropped to one knee, bold enough to peacock the large diamonds in front of other callers.

And all after Bakugou had done as you asked for only three parties. He got a front row seat to rejection every single time, which in turn started the talk, the gossip, that this city loved. You were desired because of how you painted yourself and in turn made Lord Bakugou desired as well. Talked about, all because he was the only male who had your approval.

He loved your scheming mind so much he could kiss you, but alas you did not wear a crown. Although you often had a braid of jewels atop your head, sadly you were not kin to royalty, only a Baron's daughter after all.

Bakugou wonders what you could have done as a queen. He would think you an empress.

"Is that all the detail I get? Just a confirmation that I was correct about their holiday?" He spins the two of you in step, hand guiding you although you did not need it. Having memorized every step to every dance there was since before your debut.

"She saw me."

"And?!" You can hardly keep up the façade of calm collection as you wait.

"And she flushed. Her cheeks were as red as any rose, Starlight, she was a rare red diamond sparkling by the lake. She must already be in love with me." You snort, unable to stop the smile on your lips.

"I've never heard you so poetic before. Normally you leave that to Lord Kirishima. How many times did you run into her? Not more than three I hope."

"Oi, I am a well versed student and I listened to my teacher. I made her wait for the fourth and denied it. Left her in wonder and hope as you said." He rolls his eyes, fingers sliding up to your dress line touching your bare skin with his beneath your guise of hair. The sensation of his warm fingers against your cool skin does not go unnoticed.

"Are you practicing for your dance with the 'rare red diamond' now?" You taunt, earning that chest tightening wolf grin.

"I'm only doing as my teacher has instructed."

"Well the Princess will fall for you the moment you kiss her hand."

"One can only hope. Her official debut is less than a month away. I want it to be perfect." His eyes shimmer with plotting mischief as does yours.

"So it shall."

The music flows and ebbs to the end of the song as Bakugou deposits you right back where he got you. Bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he holds your gaze once more.

"My Starlight." When he straightens you curtsy.

"My Grace." With that he leaves, heading towards the table of sweets and beverages, you were sure he would be ordering bourbon. Your mother clears her throat from her chair, the out of season silk blanket over her thick skirts pulls at your heart. She sits on that plush chair as if it were her throne.

"You dance with Lord Bakugou often." An observation.

"Indeed." A dry retort.

"I am sure Lord Kirishima will be your next dance, correct?"

"One can only hope."

"So you have an eye for a Duke's son?"

"I am happy to dance with those deserving, Mother." Your mother keeps her eyes on the turning bodies on the hardwood floor, Kirishima makes his way through the crowd once he spies you. Your mother turns to face you as she says

"Is the Duke of Winter's son deserving?"

"Hmm, he has three sons, mother." You keep your eyes away from her until she finally looks back into the crowd.

"Ah yes but only one is ever at these events." You follow your mother's gaze and they fall upon the Lord, he is the third son, he opted to chase after the world of medicine rather than women. Earning his doctorate much faster than his peers, he only just returned to conduct his practice in Alryne.

Pity he returned at all.

He catches your eye and you make a point to turn your cheek, unable to stomach his heterochromatic, condensing gaze. Your turned cheek was as close to fuck you as you could ever say to the high and mighty Lord. Still the words burned on your tongue as if you swallowed acid.

"It is not as if he ever dances mother. Therefore, how can I give him my attention? As you taught me a woman must wait to be asked as it is every woman's dream to be wed to a handsome, skilled dancer." Out of the corner of your eye you can feel her displeased look before she straightens.

"At least do not string along Lord Kirishima, that boy is not as zealous as his cousin." She says just as the large man slips through the last throng of the crowd.

"My shining gem." He smiles with sharp teeth before he places a chaste kiss atop your hand.

"My Lord." A curtsy before he asks.

"May I have this dance?" His smile is plastered on his face as he knows your answer.

"You may." Kirishima sweeps you across the floor in a different manner than Bakugou. Lord Kirishima is more flirtatious in the way that he guides you. Always choosing more of the upbeat dances as opposed to his cousin's serious selection. You do not hesitate to go in for the kill.

"So when do you plan to ask Lady Mina for her hand?" He blushes at your words. Biting the inside of his lip subtly, a habit you could only notice from being up close.

"Have you even attempted to court her? What fear plagues you, Lord?" Confusion dots your features as a sad smile paints his soft lips.

"I am not sure she would- That we would be an ideal fit." Kirishima admits, turning you gracefully, pulling you close to his body. Scandalous some would say had the two of you been an inch closer.

"Well my Lord, I believe, had you actually talked to her while the two of you danced, as I suggested, then you would come to find out that she is lovely. Pure hearted as she is honest in this game seeking love. Most women here are making attempts to move up in position, my Lord. As a Duke's first son the title of Grace is yours to master. She is a delight and air is not the only thing between her ears as some of these…"You survey the room as everyone watches with greedy eyes, "Vultures."

He laughs never used to your own unwavering honesty. He knows you are not participating by your own free will, he knows because you are helping himself and his cousin when he was sure you could have had anyone in this room.

If the Majesty's nephew, Prince of the Yarrow were to attend even one ball this season, Kirishima was sure you would have his attention too.

He twirls your body away from his and brings you back to the safety of his sturdy form. Your eyes are molten determination as you all but hiss

"Ask her to dance next. You know the host prefers the set to be serious, flirtatious, and then a slow dance. It will be the perfect time to talk."

Lord Kirishima sighs, squeezing your hand as he guides the two of you closer to your mother so he can leave you in her company.

"You could turn any dull man into something more. Whoever wins your hand is getting a precious gem indeed." He kisses your hand as the music begins to change into something slower as you had predicted.

"One shall only hope." You curtsy as he takes his flushed neck towards a certain Countess. Your mother gives you a knowing look and you offer her a cat smirk. She shakes her head but even she cannot hide her own satisfied smile.

A blonde male approaches, as he does every third ball after he ensures your first two dances have been taken. The flamboyant male has not once asked for a dance first, trying to be just as calculating as you. Although he is much more obvious.

You suppose it was not half bad for a male.

"My lady." He bends lower than he should for his station in life, but he is obviously copying the cousins before him having seen how it makes you smile.

Lavender eyes shine up at you as the Viscount brings his lips to your gloved hand. You debate if you should say yes tonight. Having left him in the dark as your desire to dance with him solely depended on your mood.

"May I show the room the grace in which steals the breath from my lungs?" Your eyes smirk as your lips form a small smile. It seems flattery would earn him a dance tonight.

"You may."

The Viscount smiles with delight as he gently takes you to the dance floor, holding you to him as he takes you across the hardwood. The candle lights play along your features as Monoma's face grows soft. Had he been anyone else his gaze might have brought a flush about you. The two of you shared a few dances before, he has sat in your parlor in the time he has attempted to court you and the flowers he sends are always the most expensive.

He has even brought you chocolate from a month's long trip. Even you had to admit that was thoughtful, not too many people knew of your Achilles heel. A small part of you thought that if no one else would do, at least this man would bring you luxurious chocolates.

"No trips this season?" You smile politely, he blinks as he seems to come to.

"Only if I can take you with me." He smiles, a hint. You pretend yourself modest and look away to fight the roll of your eyes.

Maybe chocolate would not be enough to sate you.

His eyes flicker to your mother as a question forms on his lips.

"Neither your brothers nor the Baron attended tonight?"

"Ah unfortunately no. My mother is my chaperone tonight." You say tilting your head, he turns so you can face her, stepping slowly as the song lulls on.

"I am elated she is well enough to attend." He smiles, you cannot tell if it reaches his eyes so instead you offer

"As am I."

The rest of the night is filled with rejection tumbling from your rouged lips as champagne flutes seem to find their way into your hand.

"Not too much of that dear or you will not be able to enjoy the company of your suitors."

"Truly a pity." You say taking another from a passing waiter. Eyes trained on Lord Iida and the lovely dancer in his hands, a blue dress sweeping across the floor and a white carnation nestled in her hair.

A beautiful touch and it pays homage to their first dance before they were even wed.

The love that embraced the couple could turn anyone in the room green with envy.

You down your flute as you reach for another.

Night brightens into morning much too soon as curtains are ripped open in your room.

"My lady callers will be here soon." Rose, your handmaiden says softly, "I have a bath waiting for you."

You groan in response having not had enough sleep after pouring over your drafts for your book until your candle snuffed itself out.

"Turn them all away Rose." You growl turning away from the irritating light, could it not have rained this morning to delay the suitors as it always did in this forsaken town?

"She will do no such thing." Your mother says as she walks into your room with her cane, her hand gripping onto the golden beak of a bird.

"Mother, why not marry off Hendrix or Hideki?"

"Hendrix must apprentice under your Father for a period of time while Hideki can do as he pleases for now. He is only 20, besides he makes an excellent chaperone does he not? He isn't too nosy nor does he neglect his duties to intimidate pushy men." She pushes some of your hair back as she sighs, "Although I doubt you need help in that manor."

"I deserve a strong bloodline, so I will do what I must to ensure that. Even if my face has to be scary at times." You and your mother share a laugh before she adds.

"Your face is far from scary my dear." She touches your cheek softly rising from the bed to allow you to get ready, "The suitors shall arrive within the hour. Make haste."

"Yes mother." You half groan rising to wash. Enjoying the warm water that Rose has so kindly added aromatic flora and citrus to. Once you enter your bedroom Rose has a dress picked out for you, waiting for your final approval. You nod allowing Rose to assist you with your corset and strings of your dress before you pick out jewelry to match your silver finery. You choose a silver bracelet with little diamonds as stars that Lord Bakugou had given you for your birthday this past year, smiling down at the small thing before assessing yourself in the mirror.

"What do you think Rose, should I add some rouge to my lips?" She gives you a smile of delight.

"And your cheeks too, my Lady."

Breakfast is served in the parlor as it consists mostly of fruits and finger pastries that will be served to the other guests. Hideki comes down in a fine and deep sapphire suit.

“Sister.” He gives a smirk to which you nod.

“Brother.”

“And what trouble will you get into today?” He stage whispers, causing you to cut him a glare as your father comes around to loom in the arch way of the parlor.

“Remember, you need to pick a husband this season or I will pick for you. It is disgraceful to have gone through two seasons at your age.”

“I am only twenty four, dearest Father..”

“That just proves my point. You have a month before I extend an offer to the Duke's-.” He takes in a sharp breath to chide you further only for his Grace to swoop in and save the day.

“Baron.” Bakugou says, his eyes challenging as your father bows his head. As Bakugou makes his way towards the delicate foods. Father cuts you a knowing glare. As if to say I know your games child.

You offer a sweet smile as you make your way towards your small writing desk, fighting off the urge to groan outwardly. You just wanted to work on your manuscript or read for that matter. Instead you would have to entertain men who cared not what you thought only what your pretty mouth would not say. They would swarm you, demanding attention as you waved them off gently, half you had never even spoken too. Bakugou gives you a wicked smile from beside you as if he could read your thoughts. At least he always sat closest to you, saving you in a way although you never instructed him to sit close.

He just always had.

"Do you not want to play the piano today, my shining Gem?" Kirishima asks from the door.

"Ah I am not sure I am in the mood for it, my Lord."

"Easier to avoid people as the bench is only meant for one." Bakugou gives a devilish smirk, Kirishima almost pouts, his sullen expression does not go unnoticed by his cousin.

"It has been an eon since you last played for us." Bakugou adds.

"Am I to be your song bird today?" You cut a glare at him.

"Yes, Starlight I believe you are." It seems it had no effect. Sighing you stand, collecting your skirts as your wrist twinkles in the morning sun. Garnet eyes bore into the delicate wristlet. Your fingers pluck a key here or there until you begin to play. Losing yourself in the music as you sing ballads from ages ago, melding them into songs you've written until it all sounds like a cohesive piece. Each old song is lost in transition to the new one, time ticks on but you do not notice the string of men who come and go from your parlor. Resting your voice for the time being as your fingers fly across the keys to something you composed while thinking of your father and his ever pushing hand towards a Duke's son you had great distaste for. The notes are sharp, almost jarring at times yet still the piece is stunning. In that time you had not noticed the lavender eyed man who sat closest to you, right in front of the piano in the corner of the couch. The finger cramping song ends on a somber, harsh note.

"What a beautifully charged song." Monoma says breathlessly.

“Well I was thinking of my enemies when I composed it.” You smile at the sunshine blonde with a devilish grin, he feels unsettled by it but says nothing nonetheless. His lavender eyes glance over to the wolves at the back of your den. Hideki gives him a small nod, Kirishima a soft smile but Bakugou gives him a glare that feels like Monoma is gripping needles.

He swallows thickly, adjusting himself on the plushed silk of the couch before your small piano.

“Ah before I forget.” He smiles pulling out a box setting it atop the polished wood. Gifts were a natural part of courtship or so your mother said. You offer a smile, grabbing for the box with poised eagerness and yet not overly so.

Not that you were excited but you had to pretend to be. You unbox the obvious jewelry and fight back the distaste as you stare down at a gaudy, overly large necklace. The colors are a soft green and yellow, colors you avoid for many reasons.

“Thank you.” You think to add a chord or two to your unnamed song in honor of Monoma. Bakugou laughs loudly from the back of the room, feeling how much you hate the gift, you look over your shoulder to send him a glare that he can only smile at.

After hours of trepid and boring conversation Monoma takes his leave.

“Another evening my Lady.” He smiles softly and you return it half heartedly.

“Another evening.” Lavender looks over your shoulder before Monoma clears his throat

“Your Grace and your Grace.” He bows his head, the ash blonde and redhead nod in unison.

"Shall we go and drink my high friends?" Hideki asks, hoping for an excuse to leave the stuff house. He was more than over bearing witness to gag worthy stares and compliments some of these men gave you.

"An excellent idea!" Kirishima exclaims, standing before stopping by you. He takes your gloveless hand with a sharp, flirtatious smile.

"My shining gem." He presses his lips to your skin and you return his smile.

"My Lord." He nods and takes his leave, Hideki at his heels as Bakugou approaches. He does an exaggerated sigh unable to hide his smirk.

"Little songbird how will I ever get through the night without my Starlight?" He holds your hand, lowering his upper half as did his cousin before him.

"I suppose you will fumble in the dark."

"If only I had the pleasure." He purrs as he presses his lips to your bare skin. Suddenly his fingers are too warm as he holds your gaze, he looks as if he could devour you.

Lest he forget he is staring down a panther himself.

"Have fun fumbling in the dark by yourself, my Lord." You remove your hand and look out of the corner of your eye at him. He backs towards the door of the room.

"I should hope to have thoughts of Starlight." He calls before he disappears into the hall. You tap a key as your mind wanders before you rise, famished and ready for dinner before you would take a long night of writing.

A month passes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself outside of the ballroom in the grand hall of the castle. Soft music filters in through the doors as your Father insisted the family be a bit late this evening.

For he wanted to make a statement and one at your expense.

"If Duke Enji's son asks you for a dance you will oblige." Your father hisses, his large hand curling around your bicep. You bare your teeth, stepping out of his grip as you collect yourself.

"He has three." Acid drips from your tongue as sure as morning dew.

"The doctor. Not the failure first born and not the inadequate second. The third. Shoto. Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

"I think you will not weaponize her. So do as I please and decline." You hold his burning glare as you add, "If the Duke's family is as bad off as you make it seem."

"Oh I think you shall accept his dance. Or so help me God I will burn every book your ill, grief stricken mother ever shoved into your scrubby little hands." He leans closer, a nasty smile forming as his lips, "And if that is not enough I will throw your manuscript into the fire for fodder."

Your eyes blaze with a rage that ignites beneath your skin, burning your blood as your eyes make unspoken promises. When I am through with you

You part your lips to retort but your eye catches Hendrix and Hideki, their eyes filled with pity before your mother slowly approaches.

Father chose his battleground well, knowing you would be unable to react as you pleased and with Bakugou already at the party there was no other male to save you. You bite your tongue until you taste blood.

"Is everything alright?" Mother asks tentatively, fussing with your hair, "Darling you must mind your face, my love."

You swat her away, breathing through your nose as if you were a dragon. Heat still dancing in your veins as you allow your feet to move on their own.

"Announce me. Only me. And do not announce another soul until I am beyond the last step." You hiss to the harbinger whose eyes grow wide before he nods. His voice booms over the murmurers of the crowd and once eyes begin to land on you they are silenced.

Your eyes are set hard and as cold as stone as you look over the crowd, slowly descending the steps in your deep ombre gown. Starless night black from the bodice before it lightens gradually into a charcoal grey, glittering crystals sewn into the material shine in the candle light like miniature stars. Your gloves followed the same gradual pattern except it seemed as if each finger was dipped in glittering silver and atop your wrist was your favorite piece, diamonds winking in the low light set into silver pointed stars. Woven in your hair were diamonds and pale citrine alike forming a crown in its own nature.

Had Her Royal Highness not have already been announced and seated it would be easy to mistake you for the Crown. Considering how you commanded attention and held yourself, eyes looking at no one but seeing all.

The envy, the awe, the lust.

A pivotal moment was coming, the last three stairs is where a woman would normally hold out their hand, expecting their favorite suitor to take action but you did not hold out your hand. Keeping one firmly on the dark wood of the banister while the other was eloquently posed beside you. Even if you had held out your hand the men in the room were too stunned to step up to help you. This allowed a soft, devilish smile to form on your painted lips as they performed exactly as you had planned. Finally your gem encrusted slipper touched the hardwood, parting the crowd before the spell was broken by the announcement of the rest of your family. The room let out a collective breath and instantly erupted in hot gossip. All of it falling on deaf ears as you grabbed onto a flute of trusted champaign.

From across the room you felt burning garnet eyes on you, you met them briefly before sipping at your bubbly beverage. He begins to cross the sea of bodies when a large man steps into your view.

His eyes are cold as they bore into you, a shining sapphire paired with a smokey quartz. Distaste curdles your stomach as you fight to keep your face neutral and your eyes trained on him. Fans block painted lips as they spread more gossip about the man before you.

"Is she ensnaring another Duke's son?"

"She is becoming too haughty for a Baron's daughter."

"Do you think she insulted the Crown with her entrance?"

"Would you allow me your first dance?" His deep voice cuts through the vultures' cries pulling you back to him. He has your glittering left hand in his. Brining the dazzling glove to his lips in greeting, there is no joy in his gemstone gaze.

The hot rage bears its teeth again as it surges through your blood like liquid fire, burning so hot it felt cold as it licked at your bones. Your lip barely twitches, No poised on your tongue as your father's grating voice echoes in your head.

"Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

And so your mouth finally forms the words.

"You may." He looks surprised, surrounding faces mirror his own before he fully takes your hand. Guiding you to the floor during one of your favorite songs that you always sat out as no dance partner ever dared the secret, advanced steps. You were steeling yourself for disappointment

Shoto's grip on your body is tight but not uncomfortable as he sweeps you across the dance floor, twirling you, guiding you as he holds your gaze. His stare is heavy and intense in a different manner from Bakugou's with a hint of something that could be mistaken as flirtatious. But you saw it for what it was, discontent.

As the song pushed on the discontent seemed to change into something new entirely as he showcased your skill while hiding his own. Allowing you to twirl away from him in several rotations that would make even the most skillful dancer fearful of misstep and yet you breathed in the music as if it were precious air. Neither of you notice how the other dancers give you room, allowing for more twirls and advanced steps as the two of you are becoming lost to the music. His fingers brush your bare skin as he pulls you back to him for guided, sharp steps as the music heightens. His skin brushes yours again, electricity thrums beneath the pads of his fingers before he sends you into another dizzying rotation but to you it was nothing. Briefly you wonder if this were a test until you see the soft smile on his lips when you return to his arms safely for the final set of guided steps before the music were to abruptly end, just as the dance was intended. His eyes were glued to yours the entirety of the dance, softening with each step.

Both of you stop in beat with the last soaring note panting as the movement seems to catch up with the two of you. Neither of you realize how quiet the room is until clapping comes from the royal dais high above the room, the rest of the crowd follows suit. Shock melts into a smile as your eyes return to his. A sharp pain rings out in his chest.

"Not bad for a Baron's daughter." Disgust settles on your face faster than you can stop it spewing from your lips.

"Not bad for a recluse of a Duke's son." You tilt your head up, fighting the snarl of your lip as his face becomes so mind numbingly neutral while his eyes darken. Shoto drops you off by your mother only for Bakugou to approach, swiftly bringing you to the floor for a slow song.

"Starlight. How did I not know you could dance like that?" He is astonished by your skill, "I've never seen you so happy. Maybe the Duke of Winter's third son will do you justice yet."

You scoff but all Bakugou can do is offer you a deadly smile.

"Enough about my dead end dancing." Your eyes glance towards the dias, the Princess cannot look away from the two of you, "This should be enough for the Princess to want to dance soon."

It is Bakugou's turn to scoff.

"Are you sure she is even going to have the opportunity to dance? No one is even allowed on the stairs to their enclave."

"Ah but this is her debut. The Queen will allow it, besides the princess cannot keep her gaze off of a certain ash blonde."

"How could she ever?" Your laugh rings out, it warms even the coldest hearts as Bakugou pulls you closer to him. Heat radiates from his body in a calming manner, your fingers squeeze his.

"Arrogant as ever." You smile, thinking how you will miss dancing with him or even having him at the back of your parlor to laugh with over sad attempts at your hand, "Remember once you take her one dance for the night, she must be your first and last dance of the night in the future, if not your only."

Bakugou cannot hide the dejection in his eyes even as he feigns cockiness.

"I am a well versed student, remember?" His fingers brush over your skin, his middle finger tracing a small circle.

"The best student I could ask for." The music comes to a close on more than just the song as Bakugou returns you to your family. He presses a long kiss to your glittering glove.

"Until we meet again, my Starlight." He holds your stare.

"Until then my Grace." With that the night sets into motion as you turn down dances left and right. Eyeing a ruby haired man who twirls a certain countess in his hands. As the music ends the Queen stands earning a hushed crowd.

"My daughter, the Royal Princess shall take the dance floor, she will only allow one dance on the night of her debut." It is not a shock that she is allowed so little but there is no worry on Bakugou's face. The princess straightens at the top of the stairs, trying to exude the same commanding energy you did. She falls short in power but outshines you in other wordly innocence and grace. As if she were a lily that only bloomed for the moon, her beauty unmatched in her pale pink dress. Carefully she guides the layers of it down the steps as diamonds and pearls drip from her hair and throat. She tries to keep her eyes from sticking to a broad shouldered man and yet at the same time from wandering, as she stares at the back wall of the room.

As she nears the third step Bakugou struts towards his prize with the ease of a relaxed swagger, glaring at men as he passes before he reaches the bottom of the steps. Extending his hand to the Princess just as she hits the third step from the bottom. She cannot keep the smile off of her face as her gloved hand claps onto his bare fingers. He bows deeply, raising her hand above him to look from beneath long lashes before he brings his lips to the silk.

"Your Royal Highness, my shining diamond. You are truly the envy of the night." A flush gives the Princess' lack of experience away, "May I have this dance?"

"You may." It is a breathy answer before Bakugou sweeps her off of her feet. Charming her with each calculated step and arrogant quip. The princess smiles wide and almost pouts once the music begins to ebb. Bakugou returns her to the stairs, supporting her hand as long as he can before she rises out of reach.

But to Bakugou she never was and never will be unattainable.

Before the night is over an envelope is pressed into your hands with the Crown's seal pressed into the wax. You quirk your brow, tucking it away to be read at home.

"I am so elated you came." Her voice is like honey as the butler opens the doors to a parlor so large it could hold your entire home. She guides you towards a small table and fights with the layers of her silk dress before sitting.

"How could I reject a personal invitation from her majesty?" You sit across from her, eyes going over the deck of cards and a set of tea.

"Well, believe it or not, I do not have the pleasure of friends, so please call me Amila."

"Everyone would desire to be a friend of the Crown, your Royal Highness." You counter, quickly she points her fan towards you, tapping your side of the small ornate card table.

"Ah but you do not have the desire to befriend the Crown, so I have high hopes that you will befriend me for me." She smiles, a certain gleam to her eye before she says, "Now let's talk about handsome Bakugou and how well you played me."

Your face gives nothing away as you look up from the cards you've been dealt. Your mind rushes down all possible avenues but you know to avoid the one of playing dumb. It is obvious that the Princess has a keen eye.

"Surely you'll reveal to me what gave us away."

"After that dance Bakugou had with me, had I been anyone else he would have returned to you. He either has his only dance with you or his last dance with you. I figured him or Lord Kirishima to be heavily interested in you. You are a sparkling gem amongst the coal down there so I know you have many callers and suitors. But the last to leave are always Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima. That is what has thrown me off the scent." You laugh at her honesty of the knowledge she has obviously collected about you or was tactful enough to guess.

"This is what we do, your Royal Highness." Your gloved hand gestures to the table, "I take them for all that they are worth." An honest giggle leaves Amilia's lips.

"For that I am grateful and some would dare say I am in your debt."

"A brazen statement." Your eyes return to your cards, "I would not state it as a debt although I am happy to receive your gratitude. Especially since it is in the form of cards and cake."

A laugh falls from her lips as a smile settles on yours. The round of cards continues. You win the first few rounds and then Amelia has a lucky hand. Winning the last white tea macaron.

"Did you allow me to best you?"

"Lady Luck just happened to take favor of the Crown."

"Or maybe she took pity. " She smiles, fingers fidgeting nervously, "Would you care to admire the art? Mother allows me to have this as my own personal parlor so I decorate it as I wish."

"I would love to admire some of these lovely paintings. Starting with the one behind you." You stand, heading to the large piece you had been eyeing for some time during the games. You could tell by the stroke of the brush that the artist was newer to painting but they were quite talented, the strokes almost went unnoticed even by your sharp eye.

Most importantly were the emotions the work of art evoked from the viewer.

Silently the two of you drank in the large oil painting. The canvas colored in deep pinks, reds and oranges as the sun laid to rest to allow its lover the full scope of the sky. Shadows stretched far and towards the viewer and if one paid close attention they would notice the black cat in the corner with two large moon eyes.

You especially liked this painting, the ease it made you feel even earning a small smile.

"I can already tell this one is by far my favorite, your Royal Highness you have a fine eye for art." She blushes at your compliment, twisting some of her low hanging hair. You keep your amusement of her flustering to yourself, eyes trained on the swirling colors of the rippling blue mirror of the sky, looking for a signature.

Odd, there isn't a looping set of initials in the corner like most have. As if reading it on your face she speaks.

"I- I am the artist…" It is shy and soft, unlike the Princess and you realize the weight of the truth. That she had not heard one genuine compliment of anything that she had ever done.

All she would ever receive is flattery and only for the hopes of kindness from the Crown. Finally time swallows up her sudden meekness as she blurts out.

"Are you sure Lord Bakugou is not in love with you? I know you fancy Lord Todoroki, Doctor Shoto."

"I do not fancy the Doctor, he simply is the most logical option I have currently, he would make a fine partner and husband. The seasons have not brought anyone new and my days of spring are limited." You idly move to the next painting as you speak, "As far as Lord Bakugou, he and I are too much alike. Too ambitious for our own good, we'd either explode or implode I'm afraid. Like some tragic star in the vast galaxy."

"You would not marry for love?"

"It is best to marry for a strong partnership, love is a possible byproduct, however it proves to be a rarity. Love comes with time, your Royal Highness, a luxury us women do not have." You glance her way, "Not even a Princess is immune to this unfortunate condition from which all women suffer."

"But he looks at you with intense burning, with...love."

A quiet moment passes between the two of you before you offer your honesty.

"He would learn to look at you that way, more than he would see the Crown. Especially with your mind and artistic skill. He would be a fool not to fall for you." Her eyes water at your response, "Come, let me teach you how to best Bakugou at his favorite card game, Amelia."

When you return home later that afternoon Bakugou is fidgeting outside of the manor causing your brow to furrow. Then it dawns on you that one of your brother's has a big mouth and told his Grace where you would be.

"My Lord."

"Starlight." He offers you a strong arm and you take it as he guides you up the stairs and into the parlor just off the foyer.

"Are you here to gossip?" You trust Bakugou enough to go without a chaperone, besides the doors to the parlor are wide open. You sink into your writing chair as he takes his normal seat by your side. The plush cushions do not ease his twitching fingers before you give him a playful shove.

"Out with it then!" You giggle, the sound pulls a devilish smirk from the blonde seemingly easing whatever troubled his mind. He leans back into the cushions.

"So, how much did her Highness speak of me? Endless compliments no doubt." His teeth flash white as you roll your eyes.

"And here I thought you had a pressing matter." You move to turn away from him to focus on writing but he grabs onto your knee. Giving it a gentle squeeze as his face gives him away. The tips of his ears burn before he clears his throat.

"I have to show you something and I need your honest opinion." Silence is his answer as you patiently wait for him to produce the mystery item. Slowly he reaches into his pocket, a black velvet box is in his hands. A smile blooms on your lips as you anticipate the ring he must have picked for the princess. He opens the box and your heart free falls into your stomach.

It is a pear shaped black diamond flanked by silvery diamonds that wink in the afternoon sun. At the top of the circle of diamonds was a deep red garnet that looked like a drop of blood. The ring felt powerful if it could make one feel such a thing. You fist your skirts as you collect yourself. He watches your face contort as you look over the ring, his jaw ticking with worry as you assess what is essentially both his ego and pride.

But the ring is breathtaking, perfect really.

"Katsuki, it is a gorgeous ring…" Your voice trails as you admire it, "But I believe the princess to have less...moody tastes. She does not normally wear dark colors."

A small silence stretches between the two of you, almost as if he expects something else, quickly he snaps the box shut.

"This is why I ask you things, my stunning Starlight." He pulls out a red velvet box popping it open. This ring is beautiful as well but does not have your heart as much as the first.

It is a stunning and giant marquise cut white diamond. Blinding in the light with a halo of pale pink diamonds. It is vibrant, radiant like the princess. Katsuki always did pick out the perfect jewelry to match a woman's tastes. Bakugou watches your face carefully, the sad smile that pulls your lips upward causes a deep ache in his chest. His jaw ticks again but you answer before he can even think to lash out.

"Your Grace, this will surely win her heart." He looks you in your eyes, a flash of an emotion you cannot quite catch before his arrogance returns.

"Indeed it shall. We can discuss the best date to ask another time." He closes the box and tucks them both away, he grabs your left hand, fingers ghosting over the bracelet he gave you, "You seem tired, you should get some rest."

"I believe that to be a grand idea." You say softly as he kisses each knuckle. He squeezes your fingers.

"My life would be dark without you my Starlight." You fight to keep the bitterness out of your voice as you reply.

"Soon you will have a shining diamond to light up your life."

"Only thanks to you." With that he takes his leave.

With burning eyes you add to your manuscript, foolishly writing a love story as your other novels have been completed. The candle dwindles as the hours pass before your hunched shoulders ache from the poor posture and lack of movement. You stretch, yawning as you do before you decide to head to bed.

Expecting an empty foyer you are surprised to see your father looming in the hall, your mother standing solemn by his side. Her fingers clutch at her pearls as your eyes catch sight of bags at their feet. It is not unusual for them to leave in the middle of the night in order to keep the severity of your mother's health from the limelight.

"Is there troubling news?" Anxiety twitches in your fingers as you clasp them together. Although your father's next words make your fingers want to wrap around his thick neck.

"We have been invited for an extended stay at Duke Enji's manner in the countryside in hopes the two of you will court one another."

"Father that is scandalous in itself."

"Not if an engagement comes of it. Which one will, whether you fall for him or not, young lady. The matter has been decided among the men." His words sting like a slap in the face. Where most would cry you lash out.

"Oh, I get it. Per usual the men can think with nothing more than what hangs between their legs, fearful that theirs is not long enough. So the men do all that they can to control everything but their own fragility." You step towards your father and he takes a step back, "Or is it more gruesome than that? One blackmailing the other? I just cannot imagine the ambitious Duke wanting a Baron's daughter for his son. Unless his family is so far in decline he must place the weight on his new heir and bride."

His eyes widen unnaturally before he is frothing at the mouth.

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN. YOU WILL LEARN YOUR DAMN PLACE. " He slaps you, causing a hush to fall over your family. Your eyes are wide with animalistic rage as you lunge only for Hendrix and Hideki to hold you back. Both strong men begin dragging you away.

"Forgive her, Father." Hendrix starts before Hideki finishes, "You know how the heat gives women a touch of hysteria."

"We will help her pack her bags."

All the while your mother looks at her husband in horror. The sight falls beneath the stairs before you are shoved onto your bed.

"Sister!" Hendrix roars while the youngest brother looks flustered, worried, "What were you thinking? You know how closed minded father is."

Hideki cuts the eldest a look before he adds.

"We are just worried. Normally you keep your wrath at bay."

"As much as it may come as a surprise. I am only human." You rise from the bed asking Rose to prepare you a trunk. To pack anything, that you did not care as you sat at your desk furiously writing. Your bothers watch you with curious eyes as the tension seems to subside before they take their leave.

Minutes tick by before you're standing in the foyer. Father and mother were already sitting in the carriage that waited outside under the cover of misty rain. Hendrix and Hideki stand awkwardly by the round table in the middle of the foyer. Pretending to fuss over lavish flowers Lord Bakugou had sent that morning. A beautiful arrangement of roses and hydrangeas, two of your favorites, the Lord knew of them through observation alone. You wait patiently until one brother makes eye contact with you. Hideki breaks first, guilt shining in his eyes as it threatens to spill over. It is obvious he does not want you to leave the house, his normally crooked smile falters. You cup his cheek, smiling up at your sentimental younger brother, he acts as if you will never come back.

Maybe there is some truth in that.

"Cry not, for I have an iron will while father's is but made of glass." You swipe the tear, before pressing two letters into his chest, "Besides I have an important task for you."

"Is it your scheming?" Hendrix chides and you laugh in answer before continuing.

"These are for Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima, it is imperative you deliver these letters." The paper contained important instructions for not only a successful proposal but a marriage as well.

You'd be damned if all three of you would turn out miserable.

"I'll put them in the post."

"No hand deliver them." Your eyes turn icy causing both brothers to go rigid, "And should I find out the seal has been broken before their arrival I shall take the family jewels from between your legs."

"Is that any way for a lady to talk, my dearest sister?" A jest in an attempt to lighten your souring mood.

"Yes, it is."

"They will be in their hands by this evening. We are wagering on a fight tonight. Enjoy your stay." Hideki leans in close with a tease but his voice almost cracks, "Make sure the rock is huge."

"Indeed." Hendrix agrees with an almost sad look in his eye, leaving you to wonder what it is that they know and you do not.

Well, you do know why they have such long faces, you just do not care to admit. You wave to them and their eyes catch on the silvery reflection of diamonds on your wrist.

The manner is stifling to say the least. The large, grand thing is as your trunk is set in your room that overlooks a small garden and the long sweeping hill that leads home. You pace your room before a knock comes at your door.

Hoping to ignore it, having not the desire to speak to a soul, your feet quiet. You listen for them to retreat but instead a louder knock sounds out. Before his grating voice floats from beneath the door and through the keyhole.

"I know you are in there, my lady."

Ugh, that stupid doctor stood on the other side of the door. Still you ignore him.

"It is rude to ignore your host." It ignites something in your stomach before you rip the door open. Eyes ablaze as Todoroki stands perfectly still in his onyx black suit sans jacket. White sleeves rolled up showcasing his strong forearms.

"Surely, a good host would not force his guests to his estate?"

"A good host would not mention how unwanted their guest is." His smile is sickeningly polite, eyes as cold as yours. It is hard to keep your composure as you breathe in deeply through your nose, eyes widening before you slam the door in his face.

Only once you hear his footfalls retreat and the moon shines long on your floor boards do you finally make your way towards the door. A woman on a mission as you yank the door open, uncaring that you were not in much but a thick white nightgown that could be mistaken for a dress. You rush for the stairs and through the door just off their back parlor, having memorized it from the long winded tour both your father and his Grace Enji insisted the small party take of the grounds.

A cool summer breeze whips your hair this way and that as it dries the sweat that sits at your nape. Normally people would describe this feeling as miserable, that even the breeze had a bit of heat to it, but you.

You lived for it. Twirling in the moonlight you allow yourself a moment for vulnerability you often cannot afford before you go deeper on the grounds, closer to the woods that lie just beyond the manor.

Once you are at the edge you give the grand home a glare with your back towards the woods. The creatures of the night sing their symphonies well into the late hour. A twig snaps behind you cause you to turn about face, your eyes meet with lavender framed beneath light lashes.

Ice runs through your blood as you faintly recall him speaking of these trees by his own countryside manor. He often went to these grounds to hunt.

So why was he standing on the Todoroki grounds?

"So it is true?" Monoma chokes out an ugly sound. It is between defeat and a snarl. He takes a step closer, "Whisked away in the night. Did Todoroki steal your maiden head from me?"

Your eyes widen at his scandalous accusation and it is then you see how truly disheveled he is. Hair plastered to his forehead, his canary suit stained green from foliage. The fabric even darkening beneath his armpits and at his collar, it sends a sort of frantic look to his eye. He steps forward and for once in your life you yield, stepping back.

"That is a damning accusation." You fight to keep the cracking rage from your voice, the small fear that blooms in your belly like poison nightshade. Swallowing thickly he steps forward.

"He, he can't take what's mine. I- I was going to propose today. But that damn Bakugou is always lingering around like toxic gas. Poisoning your mind with his….ambitions." It is then you see red.

How dare anyone thing you were so fucking fragile and innocent some young blonde could corrupt you. Your palm strikes his cheek with enough force that he is facing away from you. You strike again and then as you rear up your fist he pulls you to him. Pressing his whisky soaked lips to yours as he swallows you whole. Mouth extended over your lips, sloppily engulfing you as he makes sounds that make you want to retch. His tongue slides past your lips and you bite.

Not enough that he loses it, although you wish you could afford to do such a thing. But you still lived in a society where a man's word was far more valuable than that of a "whore." Shaking you pull back, so much rage that you do not see the flash of light until it is too late.

"Fucking bitch!" He slashes at your nightgown, cutting the fabric away as you think you've doged, he goes to slash again, "God damn whore!"

His voice echoes through the trees and that scares you more than the knife in his hand, his sloppy demnor creates an opening as you kick him so hard between his legs he falls to the ground, puking up his belly full of liquor onto the moss floor.

Suddenly the summer night is too hot, the frogs and crickets too loud as an owl calls deep within the wood. Thunder roars overhead before the clouds become too heavy. Panic slicks your skin before the pounding rain as you turn to run, hopping you kicked hard enough to rupture something in this cowardly man.

If you lived in any other world, you would have tried your best to seize that knife and plunge it into his chest.

But you didn't, so you ran. Vision blurring as the pain finally catches up to you. Hand instinctively flying to your stomach only to come up wet.

"It's the rain, it's just the rain." You gasp out rushing into the house and shutting the glass paned door as quickly and quietly as you can. Fumbling for a lock before you give up all together, arms outstretched in the dim room looking for a candle or a mirror. Shaking fingers find a match that you light using the wallpaper, uncaring of the risks as you frantically look for a stick of wax. Lighting the wick once you've found one and taking it to the mirror above a small runner table. You set the wax down, close to the glass, thunder shakes the windows and the house as you pull the fabric from your torso. It reveals an angry red slash that weeps crimson, a choked gasp leaves your lips as lightning flashes illuminating the whole room. Still you do not see the reflection of the man in the mirror.

"What happened?" It sounds animalistic as it comes from the corner. Your whirl to face him, pulling the cloth back down to cover your decency. A lie falls from your lips as easy as breath.

"Nothing." Your rasp, feigning embarrassment, "My-my courses have come early. Your Grace this is not something you should witness."

"Do you take me for a fool?" He steps closer, eyes burning in the candle light, "I may not be an expert of female anatomy but I know the basics."

You swallow thickly, trying to jest.

"Then my Lord you are far more experienced than myself. I am bashful to be in the presence of a skilled womanizer. This truly is nothing." He closes the distance, wrapping his deadly hand around your small wrist. Pulling it away from your body.

"That laceration does not look like 'nothing'." He mocks, "I will not ask again."

Silence engulfs you as the storm rages on, it competes with the roaring in your head. Your knees slowly buckle as Shoto keeps you up right. His winter's night by the hearth scent floods your senses.

"I feel a bit faint." Your voice sounds so small, so far away that it stirs something in Todoroki. In the year that he has watched you, he has not once seen your falter or become meek. He makes way to scoop you into your arms and is a mixed of relieved and agitated as you swat him away.

"I-I can walk." You straighten your back, smoothing the reddening fabric over your bodess and for once you're thankful the blasted nightgown is so thick. He gently guides you to your room.

Once there he prepares a basin as you try to sit on the plush bed.

"Aht!" He whispers harshly, "Change."

You relax into the foot of the bed anyway, unable to hold yourself up right any longer. He sucks his teeth, bringing the supplies to the bedside table before searching through your trunk.

"A Lady's things should not just be rummaged through."

"Hmm is that so?" He finds another night gown before he hovers over you, face pinched as he asks, "Can you undress yourself, truthfully?"

Moments pass before you admit that you are not sure that you can with a shake of your head. Slowly he eases you out of the damp fabric, dabbing at your wet skin with a towel. He avoids looking at your breasts and as much as he would love to stare a weeping wound commands his attention. He places the gown just enough to hide your breasts before he lies you down on your back.

"From beginning to end, tell me what happened." When you do not answer he forces your chin to face him, "Tell me, now."

And your name slips off his lips like poisoned honey, a truth serum you swallow whole. You retell the quick exchange, including the damning kiss as you watch rage blister across Shoto's handsome features as he silently begins to work.

"We must prosecute him."

"We must not!" You exclaim as he dabs antiseptic at your wound. He gives your an exasperated

"What would have happened if he had nicked an internal organ?"

"I suppose I would be free of this wretched world." A nonchalant shrug as best as you can manage.a glare cuts your way as his roar turns soft.

"Why would you say such a thing? Do you think no one would mourn the loss of you? Do you think he would not weep at your service?" Shoto touches the bracelet of dancing stars and you pull your wrist back. Tears burning your eyes, you do not allow them to fall.

"He is not up for discussion!" It's a loud whisper before you grip Shoto's jaw with enough force it grinds, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Lord. You can take your leave as I do not need a soul."

He melts as he watches the pain flutter in your eyes, a long sigh escapes him as he melts into your touch. His fingers feathering over your forearm.

"Pride is a deadly sin. Allow me to help. I will be quick." Slowly you drop your arm away from him. He digs around in his bag before you change your mind. He disinfects the sutures before he sends the needle through tender flesh, your tears dry as you allow your mind to retreat. Shoto takes quick notice.

"You do that a lot…" He comments softly, pulling the suture through your skin, you glance his way, "You seem to disassociate."

"Well, feelings hurt so it is better to not feel at all." You grind your teeth as he pulls the widest part of your wound together.

"Is that why you push him away so often?" He holds your gaze before returning to his work.

"Did I not tell you that he is not up for discussion. No matter, I do not have feelings for Lord Bakugou." He scoffs at your lie.

"Ah so then it was not you who suggested the Princess in the form of flattery? Lord Bakugou is a smart man but you played into his blind spot, stroking his ego and enticing his ambition." Your gritted teeth say it all.

"And how pray tell would you even guess at such grandor things when you are not in attendance at even half of these events?"

"I am privy to this knowledge because I too keep everyone and everything at arm's length. It is much easier to see the moves when one is far enough away from the board." He dabs at your abdomen, "And you my Lady are by far the best player."

"Flattery does not go far with me." You sigh softly, fingers idly playing with the wrinkles in the sheets, "Father wants me to set a final round."

"Mine wishes for me to begin and end in the same turn." He slowly places your nightgown down, "Which is why we should make an effort to at least get to know one another. With your wound I suggest staying an extra week or two to ensure it closes properly. I can convince our Wardens that the extension is for an attempt to win your hand."

He leans back in his chair, sweat on his brow from fusing with your wound, from worry as it furrows. Your chest tightens and suddenly the urge to be in control sinks its teeth into your skin. Quickly you unclasp the birthday present Lord Katsuki had given you, setting it on the nightstand beside Shoto with dramatic flare. His eyes widen as he reads between the lines, the silent vow of "I will make an effort...for now". The promise seems to pierce his heart.

"Fine. I enjoy picnics, I suggest we do that on the grounds so that we may be chaperoned from afar and yet have privacy. My expectation is unbashful honesty from both parties." You turn over to give him your back as you pull the fine blankets to your shoulders, "Furthermore you must come up with some sort of endearment for me. Anyone who has ever tried to seriously court me has. I have come quite fond of them as titles bore me. Something lovely so give it thought."

Shoto is stunned into silence for a moment before he lets out a dark laugh.

"I see, this is still your game"

"Precisely." You say, he stands, lingering in the doorway before shutting the heavy oak.

It was difficult to sleep to say the least. Still you were grateful to have risen before Rose. Dressing yourself before she could see your wound. More grateful still when Rose set down some tea claiming Lord Shoto sent it.

You downed the scalding liquid in three swallows, surprising Rose, before she passes you a folded note.

Meet me in the back garden for lunch.

-Shoto

A muscle ticks in your jaw as pain blooms across your stomach as you stare at his lovely script.

Shoto hates to admit that the first thing he looks for is that bracelet on your wrist, when he does not see it he lets out his held breath. Drinking in your deep, sapphire dress. It sparkles as if covered in stardust, his heart clenches. He looks towards your stomach, worry etched on his features.

"How are your stitches? No corset right?" He asks, gently guiding you to the plush pillows on the ground. Maybe he should have asked the butler to bring out chairs instead.

"I feel naked without it." You admit, he sees a bit of nervousness you have normally schooled away.

"You look lovely." His eyes are gentle, lips formed in a soft, genuine smile. Your heart tried to skip a beat. It's the heat you tell yourself.

"Flattery will not get you far remember?"

"I'm only being honest, my sweet petunia." You give him a puzzled look, was this going to be his nickname for you? You were not a delicate thing.

"A flower?" You give him a look but his smile does not falter.

"Ah would you rather I say my dew kissed rose? My begonia?"

You both laugh at his last suggestion.

"My sunflower." Your heart stutters, you glance away for just a moment and he takes notice.

"Ah so you approve," He collects a strand of your hair between his fingertips, "Sunflower?"

Heat rushes your cheeks as you fight the smile on your lips. You lose as he kisses your hair. Maybe you could be a delicate thing.

"Did you know sunflowers can remediate soil? It is why they are planted after tobacco is harvested in hopes to use the fields once more." He is quiet as he waits for your admission.

"It is my favorite flower, it is in season now. Alas not one suitor has sent them. Roses and hydrangeas are my favorites too but nothing quite says summer like a sunflower." You sigh, looking over the manicured bushes and flowers in the garden.

"Is that your favorite season?" He is perceptive, you take a moment to breathe in the sweltering breeze with closed eyes. Humming your answer.

"Indeed." You kick off your shoes and place your feet into the grass, leaning back to allow your face in the sun. Not many women would be so open to sitting on only a blanket and with no umbrella or covering. And yet here you were soaking up the sun like a lazy cat. Heat rushes Shoto's cheeks as he realizes just how perfect his name for you is.

"Have you ever had intercourse with a woman?" You ask, eyes still closed as Shoto flushes further. His cheeks are as red as part of his hair.

"Sunflower." He gasps but you giggle.

"Unbashful honesty, remember?" He lets small silence stretch between the two of you before he answers.

"I have. My brother convinced me it was a good idea." His eyes look sad, it makes your gut clench as you look away for a moment. Question burning on your tongue.

"What if I were to say my maiden head was taken?"

"Who am I to judge after I have slept with another. Sadly I know some are stolen." He answers without hesitation.

"This is true. Mine is still intact, I am grateful Monoma had only stolen a kiss." You sigh.

"You'd never kissed anyone?" His tone is curious although his eyes are dark with anger for you.

"I tried to be a proper lady. More so because I do not like to touch people or feel their skin. Touching them makes them real, you know? And when someone is real they can have power over your heart." Shoto mulls over your words and realizes how much he relates. He places his hands near your fingers but does not touch them. You notice the gesture and scoff without the pretension you skillfully lace his fingers with his. Delighted to see the burning blush on his cheeks.

Maybe life with Shoto would not be half bad, if only he gave you more moments like this.

Moments like this last over the two weeks that drag into three. Days are spent beneath the summer sun with exchanged and often heated, intellectual debates. Both of you feeling mentally stimulated for the first time as each of you allowed a few walls to come down, pulling each other closer than arm's length. While a few hours of the night are spent beneath the moon. His gem stone eyes raking over your abdomen in worry but nothing more than his checking on your wound as he was ever the gentlemen.

On Monday of the second week Shoto has come fond of his summer sunflower, so much so he brings a large black box to the next picnic, tucked away in his pocket is a matching, much smaller box. He presents to you the medium sized box as you giggle in delight.

"My Lord, my shining Shoto. What could this be?" Your cheeks hurt from the width of your smile as he opens the box for you to see. Your face flutters into shock before joy returns as you hold out your wrist. Shoto takes the delicate golden bracelet that has several round onyx surrounded by citrine in the shape of petals. Sunflowers dance on your wrist as you twist it this way and that, unable to school your features into your normal distaste for guadry gifts from suitors. But this gift was far from gaudy, only one man before Shoto had earned this reaction. You bring your parasol to hide your face and his from the prying eyes of the manor as you gently press your lips to Shoto's cheeks.

"I love it." You admit. It gives him enough courage to commit to ask you on Friday, the bigger question.

Having you walk for "therapy" through the grounds, pointing over your shoulder to point out phantom ducks on the lake as he nervously sinks to one knee.

"Shoto, love I do not see-" You turn to face him and see his loving eyes, wavering smile and shaking fingers holding open the box that reveals a giant oval ruby surrounded by diamonds. He clears his throat.

"My sunflower," You fling your arms around him, making him fall off balance as you land on top of him. Peppering his face with uncharacteristic kisses as excitement, for once, rushes through your veins like a second blood. He laughs lifting you by your ribs, careful of your slowly closing wound as he spins you before setting you on your feet. He fumbles for the momentarily forgotten ring before he slips it onto your ring finger. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling warmly. It reaches his eyes in such a way your gut clenches.

And for a moment you forgot you were ever anyone's starlight.

For one returning to the manor seems almost dreadful and not because of waiting suitors but because you would be without your own. He insisted the two of you be seperate as your mother and his, prepared to arrange the wedding, as you demanded the ceremony to be small. Despite your desire for to keep the engagement quiet for just a week or so, your mother and father took it upon themselves to spread word back home before you could even arrive.

You exit the carriage as the house looks quiet, earning a soft smile. Your ring catches your eye and you remind yourself that this truly was the best possible outcome.

The foyer is covered in flowers, from congratulations to a giant trove of sunflowers on the center table.

You smile at the flowers Shoto must have sent this morning, they sit in a glass globe of a vase, their usually tall stems cut short. Their flower heads are large and vibrant even in the ambient candle light. You finger a petal as you reminisce over the past few weeks, your stomach hardly protesting as you stand on tip toe to look at them all. Relishing the moment of silence before you realize you are most likely home alone. Your brothers lost in some fighting match while your parents took their leave from the Todoroki manor to busy themselves with venues. You figured a change of clothes would do you nicely before you settled down over your much neglected work.

A black nightgown and almost sheer robe clung to your frame as you stepped down the grand staircase, smiling once more at the flowers before slipping into your parlor. Lighting only one other candle by the door before taking yours to your desk. With deft hands you pull out one of your manuscripts and tap along the top with a manicured nail. A sigh leaves your lips, you finger with your bracelet, with the ring on your finger before a fresh page is found on your desk. You write furiously.

About something as trivial as love.

Still the quil seems to move on its own as if enchanted as words dot the parchment in ink. Suddenly your work is disturbed by someone entering your parlor. You assume it is a brother who has come home, glancing up you see locks of ash blonde causing you to grip at your robe to close it tighter. The moment you realize it is just Bakugou your grip on the fabric loosens.

"I wasn't expecting you at this hour." Fear of needing a chaperone barely crosses your mind since it was Lord Bakugou who was your company. You relax into your seat as he crosses the room to sit in his normal seat, on the corner of the couch, closest to you. His posture is poor as he leans his forearms on thick thighs, garnet eyes cast downward, he grips at his own hands as his knuckles turn white. You wonder if he did not heed your letter.

"How did the proposal go with Princess Amelia?" Your voice sounds out over the silence of the room, still he remains quiet. It is unnerving how solemn and silent the normally wolfish man is. Something pulls at the strings of your heart. His eyes seem misty. He keeps them to the ground or so you think, as they rake over the ring on your finger, on the bracelet on your wrist. The onyx and citrine dance in the low light of your burning candle. Bakugou feels a sheen of sweat coat his hands, bile rising in his throat that he has to swallow down.

You think the worst, you think the Princess rejected him but that didn't make sense either. She was so obviously in love with the ambitious man, you heard while away that she even turned down a dance with a forgein prince.

"What's wrong, Katsuki?" The way your voice forms around his name, the way your eyes look with unbiased worry causes Katsuki's limbs to act on their own. In one swift motion he cups your face in his broad hands, bringing his lips to yours so softly. Once the plush of your lips touch his he cannot stop as his hunger for you comes to the forefront. He kisses you with a fervor unmatched as his lips move yours, his hand moves to the back of your neck. Tilting your head so he may deepen the kiss, tongue sliding over yours as the world falls from beneath your feet.

But as quickly as it fell it returns, pushing him away while turning to face away from him. You keep your head held high as he pants on the couch beside you. He grabs your thigh, desperate for touch, for anything but rejection.

"Starlight." His voice is deep, rough from what might be disuse as it cracks on the second syllable. A question runs rampid in your mind. How long had he felt like this?

"Please, my starlight." He squeezes your smooth thigh and you look towards him. Watch his force contort with pain, as if you held his beating heart in his hands and crushed it.

Really it is what he had done to you, as you look down at him with hot tears.

He is the first and only soul to see you cry in decades. It seemingly tears him about but he brought this among himself.

The kiss is answer enough as to why he is here.

It should not be this tempting to throw it all away.

"Get. Out." You seethe, fat droplets catching on your sheer robe, falling down your cheeks as if you were an actress going through a tragic scene. He does not move, does not breathe as he hopes your temper will cool.

Instead it heats.

"Get out, Get OUT. GET OUT GET OUT!!" More composure lost with each increase of volume before you completely lose it, "FUCKING GET OUT!"

He hardly moves and the ruckus calls alarm for your brothers who were home, who let Bakugou in at such a late hour. They come from the office across the hall in hurried steps, expecting to see an assailant, hoping that Bakugou could fight them off.

They silently determine what they see is far worse. Bakugou gripping at your thighs with this pleading look while your face is now firmly buried in your hands. A sob racks through your body setting your brothers ablaze.

Hendrix speaks first.

"What did you do?!" His eyes are flaming as he sets them on Bakugou, who ignores the two men. Hideki begins to close the distance and his eldest brother follows suit.

"What have you done to make my lovely sister cry?" Hideki's voice is full of hurt, disappointment and when they receive no answer they decide it is time to remove your true assailant.

Both grab at Bakugou, pulling him away from the couch as you wet your palms with years worth of tears.

Everything in your life, no matter how hard you tried to conduct it, was truly wrong wasn't it?

The fresh swirling ink on the pages answered you enough, the love story you did not know you needed with a protagonist with soft ash blonde hair.

"Please. Do not make me BEG!" He yells as your brothers' sad attempt at forcing him from the room topples furniture and the like.

Still you weep your self pity away.

His next words are deafening as your heart finally cleaves apart, the pieces falling to the floor before shattering like glass at your feet. He brandishes the black velvet box with the black diamond ring tucked inside as you finally look up to him.

"IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU, STARLIGHT!"

#bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha historical au #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

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