#Ciel Phantomhive fanfiction

[writing-fanics]

| brightest star | Our!Ciel Phantomhive x Fem!Reader

| summary: y/n was told to follow the brightest star in the night sky, and now that very star was burning out with recent events, as secrets and lord are revealed |

She held a candelabra as she walked down a dark hallway toward the young master's chambers. She sensed his unease and decided to make warm milk with sugar to help him sleep. She opened, the door and found him sitting up in bed unable to sleep.

"I sensed your unease and made some warm milk and sugar." She said, and he looked up at her with a faint smile. As if glad she was the one to enter rather than Sebastian.

She handed him a warm milk and sugar drink. He tapped the empty space beside him and she sat on the other side of the bed. She took a sip from her mug, revealing a scar on her arm from the Campania. Despite being a demon, she never feasted on a soul and only ate human food. To fully heal, she needed rest.

He'd never been more scared in his life at that moment on the ship when she passed out in his arms as she bled out from the wound sustained from death scythe. He didn't want to lose another person he cared about.

“My mother, used to tell me to follow the brightest star in the sky.” She said smiling, as she looked down at the warm milk.

She chuckled softly as if reliving the moment. "My mother used to hold me and point to the brightest star in the night sky. She'd say, 'If I'm not here, follow that star and I'll be near.' " She took a sip of the warm milk, reminded of her mother.

She then turned towards him, “That stars name, Sirius.” She said, and he looked at her not saying a word.

“I even named my cat, Sirius,”

He couldn’t help but look at her and scoff, just as he named Sebastian after his dog. She named her cat after…

“He was the cutest little black cat ever, and had the most softest fur and cutest meows.” She said, looking at him.

“You sound just like, Sebastian.” He said, and she giggled, at what he said.

“Like father like daughter,” she said, raising the mug to her lips and taking another sip of warm milk.

Before pausing, she knew he had his reasons of keeping such a deep rooted lie. “I don’t blame you,” she said, looking down at the warm milk that was slowly starting to cool off. She rubbed the mug with her thumb before turning to look at him.

He looked at her and looked away, as if wanting to avoid the conversation. “I’ve also been lying,” She said, and he looked at her in shock.

“Pfft, who isn’t lying everyone lies that’s what people do.” He said, and she looked at him.

She finished her mug and placed it on the nightstand before turning to him. "People have their reasons, just as you had your own, and I have mine."

She then gives him a playful side eye, “Like Y/n isn’t my actual name.” She said, and he looked at her and she grinned.

He asked if y/n was her real name. She grinned and explained that it was her human name and she couldn't reveal her demon name because it was too terrifying. He gave her a deadpan stare, unamused.

She shook her head, smirking. "Don't give me that look, young master," she said before turning to face him. Leaning in, she whispered her true name - something she had never done before, and would only do for someone she trusts.

As the demonic whispers subsided, she pulled back and her eyes returned to the same color as her father. "No need to tell me your real name. You can tell me when you're ready, or never." She said, smiling and he looked at her and then looked away.

"But, I will say"

She smiled at him and said, "I've always liked the name Sirius. It's the brightest star in the night sky. It's always been there for me, and now it's my turn to be there for him," despite her panicked heart, she wanted to support him through the rough time.

She decided to give him some space and got out of bed, grabbing her mug from the nightstand. "I should go, I've already overstayed my welcome," she said.

She felt a grip on her wrist and turned to see him. "Stay," he said. She raised an eyebrow and replied, "Very well." She placed the mug on the nightstand, sat on the bed, and slipped under the covers.

As they stood facing each other, her cheeks started to flush, and they delicately interlocked their pinkies. "The name Earl Ciel Phantomhive is rightfully mine, and I am determined to take it back," he declared, with a resolute tone in his voice. She furrowed her brows a little, silently hoping that he would reveal his true identity. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but smile warmly at him and responded, "I have no doubt that you will succeed." As they settled into bed, the atmosphere was serene and tranquil.

He briefly looked at her with a smile, then took her hand and kissed it. "I want you to be by my side to help me achieve my goals," he said. She couldn't help blushing and her heart was racing.

"I'm here for you," she said as they intertwined their fingers. Using her powers, she waved her fingers to blow out the candles. They fell asleep with smiles on their faces, having found each other.

[jinisnuggets]

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒊𝒆𝒍

ᴾᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᴬᵈᵘˡᵗ! ᶜⁱᵉˡ ˣ ᴬᵈᵘˡᵗ! ᴳⁿ! ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ⁰.³ᵏ

ᴳᵉⁿʳᵉ: ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᴺᵉᶜᵏ ᴷⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ?

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ: ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᶜⁱᵉˡ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵈᵃʸ.

The married life wasn't easy… both of you being young and a married couple, you were never exactly sure how to feel, but you were happy. You fell in love with him and he managed to fall in love with you. Maybe things hadn't started out in the best way but as time passed, you were sure you'd have a happy ending with him.

“Y/n.”

You glanced over at your husband who stood at the doorway looking at you, you smiled, you weren't having the best of days and you were honestly looking forward to this moment with him.

“Yeah?” You responded accordingly, Ciel took note of how long it had taken you to respond and he automatically knew something was wrong, he glanced behind him to check if his butler was hovering over him and upon seeing he wasn't he walked over to the bed where you sat and gave you a back hug.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern filling every corner of his voice, which made you crack out a small smile. Throughout your time with Ciel you were never able to hear his concerned voice be directed at you, so hearing him talk to you with that pitch made you feel some sort of way.

“I'm okay Ciel, don't worry.”

Feeling his head which was now resting on your shoulder, he gave you a small nod in response to your comment. “Bad day?” He asked, at least wanting to have some justice to why you felt upset.

“Yes, just a bad day.”

Again, you felt his head nod in response to you. You both stayed in silence, feeling his breath touching your neck as he lightly kissed you, unwilling to trigger any of your defensive system and wanting to let you relax.

That was what married life with Ciel was like…

Quiet, peaceful, and although you always had disagreements. You would always fix them before you went to bed.

[kiyo-cant-write]

ciel & sebastian w/ servant!reader around ciel's age ✧･ﾟ

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Hello! My writing blog was always meant to be multifandom, but recently I have had many twst requests. To keep up with my personal interests, here is a Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler post about my childhood bias/crush (when I was 11-12): Ciel Phantomhive.

While this post is tagged Sebastian x Reader, their relationship is platonic in this particular work because of the reader's design.

Please note that while requests are open, they will not be posted until after the 27th of December or more accurately into the new year (January 2025). Feel free to request anything within the parameters of my rules, but keep this scheduling fact in mind! Thank you!

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Summary: [Name] is a recent addition to the Phantomhive Staff, gathered by Sebastian and Ciel. They are around Ciel's age and this leads to some... shenanigans.

TW/CW: canon-typical darkness, manga compliant

Notes: pre-relationship (Ciel), explicitly platonic (Sebastian), the reader is human, the reader is 12-13 years old, they/them pronouns for the reader, take place explicitly pre-Campania

Guest Stars: Phantomhive Staff, Elizabeth Midford (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Ciel Phantomhive

Ciel is initially indifferent to [Name] similar to his feelings toward his other servants about half of the time (even Sebastian).

He doesn't see himself as a child so does it matter?

He honestly tries to avoid [Name] at first because he wants to be seen as an equal to the adults. Baldo commenting to "play" with his "friend" really doesn't help the early stages of the relationship.

Being persistent but not forceful will work well.

[Name] needs to prove their worth and use in the household.

[Name] will quickly prove themselves with "clean-up."

They will kill in the name of Earl Phantomhive.

Ciel notices their willingness to serve.

He admires their dedication to protecting him/the estate.

He is impressed if they do not hesitate to strike.

The more he realizes their use and loyalty, the more likely he is to speak to them or even allow [Name] to speak freely with him.

He doesn't like when Sebastian teases him for it, though.

Sebastian might be the biggest obstacle.

If Ciel feels that [Name] is being overbearing, they get sent to spend time with Finny (16) who is also relatively close in age to them. Though Finny is similar to a child brother at times.

Once they are closer, Ciel may become a bit irritable if [Name] gives Finny too much attention or coddling.

"He needs to act his own age."

Ciel cannot do anything about any possible feelings.

[Name] hesitates to do anything either.

They both understand the betrothal between Elizabeth and Ciel.

Finny had given them a suggestion that they weren't sure what to do with. Was it a good idea? No. Was it a curious one? Yes, indeed. They wanted to know what the master's response would be, but they feared it would only be anger for their disrespect. Still... tempting.

[Name] considered their options as they helped Finny in the garden.

"Do you really think that would be a good idea?" they asked him.

Finny nodded as he attempted to gently weed the garden. The last time Finny did this he ripped out some important plants and Sebastian had been ready to skin him. Since that happened, and after the events of last night's clean-up, maintenance was needed and Sebastian chose [Name] as "Finny Watch."

[Name] accepted it as it was.

"I think it would do the young master some good to have a friend his age who calls him by name! He doesn't have any friends..."

Finny seemed sad about it. [Name] wondered why Finny did not try to be a "friend" to their master, but Finny seemed to sense their curiosity. He shook his head.

"It can't be me, I'm older than the young master for one," he explained, "And the young master doesn't think of me like that."

"And he thinks of me as a friend?" [Name] chose to ask.

Finny nodded.

"I can tell he thinks differently of you!"

The gardener beamed at them and they didn't want to crush whatever whimsy and joy this was giving him. They sighed and gave in, knowing they wouldn't hear the end of it otherwise, especially after Finny told Baldo and Mey-Rin about it.

"I'll try and see," they agreed.

[SEVERAL HOURS LATER]

At the end of the day, Sebastian asked [Name] to report to the young master directly about their supervision of Finny and the state of the estate's gardens. [Name] walked into the room and bowed to their lord, nodding to Sebastian a moment after.

"Good evening," they spoke, not making eye contact with either.

"Good evening, [Name]," Ciel greeted, taking a sip of his tea as he watched them, "I trust you kept Finny under control?"

[Name] nodded.

"Yes, he took care of replanting and weeding. There were no, ah, plant deaths," they explained in as succinct a way as they could, "We talked as we worked and completed everything Sebastian told us to."

They had to ignore the soft stifled laugh that came from Sebastian when they fumbled for a phrase and chose "plant deaths."

"I see, very good then."

He seemed pleased. The master was in a good mood? Hm. This might be their chance so they took it without hesitation.

"Master, if I may speak freely for a moment?" they asked him

Ciel raised an eyebrow but he nodded slowly after a moment of contemplation.

"You may but whatever about?"

[Name] felt bad for confusing him but it was somewhat refreshing to hear the master speak without that underlying darkness in his tone.

"Finny suggested something to me. I would like to try something," [Name] explained, hoping this wouldn't ruin whatever relationship they did have with the master.

"Something. Very specific," was Ciel's comment, "Go ahead."

Ciel seemed certain [Name] wouldn't hurt him and even if they tried, Sebastian would handle them swiftly like he always did.

"Ah, thank you for your permission... Ciel."

There was a silence that fell over the room as neither child spoke. Ciel was frozen in place, Sebastian seemed to be holding back another laugh, and [Name] was unsure if Finny's theory was true.

A faint hue of pink dusted Ciel's cheeks as he averted his gaze.

"Was," he began, "Was that all you wanted?"

"Yes," [Name] admitted, "I'm sorry, sir."

Ciel was silent once again and [Name] worried they really had crossed a line, but then he spoke again, softer this time.

"It isn't as though I care what you call me when there aren't guests around," he said, waving the hand that wore his family's crest, "Do as you like with the estate's image in mind... I suppose."

[Name] couldn't disguise the smile that took over their features.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Sebastian Michaelis

To be quite frank, Sebastian thinks children are brats.

He didn't want another child around but it cannot be helped because [Name] is useful for the estate's security.

Despite not liking them at first, Sebastian is always "nice."

He is never without a polite smile, it's a bit unnerving.

As [Name]'s work proves proficient, he eases up.

They make fewer mistakes than the others.

Because of this, they are not so annoying to him.

"Child, you would do best not to hinder my work. But if you would like to lend me your help, you may."

He refers to [Name] more often as "child" or "littlest one."

He means they are the youngest of the servants.

He often lets [Name] off easy with punishment, similar to how he never scolds Tanaka the way he does with Baldo, Mey-Rin, Snake, and Finny.

Sebastian likes to make fun of [Name] and Ciel's similar ages.

He allows [Name] to sit in for Ciel's lessons at times.

In the end, Sebastian might be fond of the human.

Still, he won't say that kind of thing. What use would kind words be from someone like him? He doesn't much care for anyone.

He is bound to his master until the end of their contract.

That is all. Right?

"What in the world are you doing?" Sebastian asked as he came up to them, essentially appearing from thin air.

The young servant jumped at the sudden voice in the silence of the cellar and whipped around to face him, dropping their cleaning rag on the floor in the motion. Noting it was Sebastian, they let out a relieved sigh and bent down to pick up the rag.

"Sebastian! You startled me!" they told him, brows furrowed, "Why do you like to sneak up on me like that?"

Sebastian chuckled softly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"I don't mean to. Perhaps you are just easily scared, child?"

"I don't think so," they said softly before they moved to continue their task, "And, I'm not done with this task yet. Did you have something else for me to do?"

They couldn't believe they had more work to do now. That was always why Sebastian came to see them, to give them a task someone else had botched or enlist their help with something else entirely.

"I did," the butler told them, "I seem to require your help with a lesson for the young master."

[Name] paused.

"A lesson?" they asked him, giving a skeptical look though they tried their best to mask it, "Would I be expected to come with you now?"

They were unsure if he was telling the truth. Sebastian enjoyed messing with them, just a little. But it was enough to make [Name] wonder every time the butler told them much of anything. They wanted to go to the lesson, though. Learning was... fun.

Sebastian noticed the look, being a demon and all, but said nothing about it. Instead, he simply nodded and smiled at them as he always did to the guests the manor received.

"Indeed. I would need you to accompany me to the study."

They weighed their options. Sebastian was probably not lying.

"Alright," they agreed a moment later, "Do I need to finish this task first? You did give me a list of things to make certain of here."

Sebastian shook his head.

"No, that won't be necessary. I will take care of it."

They almost bowed to him but caught themself. It was hard to treat Sebastian as a butler when he held himself with as much pride as any man would. Still, the one time they had spoken too highly of him, the young master had gotten upset with them (and Sebastian too).

It had been an... ordeal.

"I see. Thank you, then," they told him curtly though they couldn't help but smile.

A lesson! How fun! They wanted to cheer but didn't.

Even if they were only cleaning the room to spectate, it was a chance to learn things. They would learn something and earl was learning! It seemed like a fairly good deal in [Name]'s opinion.

Too focused on rushing to put away their supplies and head toward Ciel's study, they did not see a softer expression adorn the butler's face as he watched them move past him.

Perhaps they would never know his true affection for his littlest one.

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Imagine the rest yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a kuro-only blog! ^^

[mrsvnk]

Brick by Brick

I finished writing fic and decided to share the beginning here. This is the only part in English.

I hope You enjoy reading this!

“Can I hug you?” her whisper is lost among the dead around them. Her hands are instinctively still clutching the swords, unwilling to part with the imaginary safety. Her face is covered in blood. Her hair, barely grown out since college, is completely disheveled and dirty. Her lips, despite her strong body,  is trembling. Her eyes, still glowing with kindness and love, meet his. “Yes,” his whisper cuts the silence into pieces. His hands are the first to reach out to her, hesitantly grabbing the wet fabric of her dress. His face burrows into her shoulder, the hardness of her muscles against his cheek making him feel ridiculously calm. His hair is touchingly soft and smells musty when the pale girlish cheek touches it. His lips, unfortunately, are trembling too.

[kywaslost]

How would Ciel feel if he had a fem s/o who wore gothic Lolita style dresses?

Stylish Choices - Ciel Phantomhive

A/N: I had to search this one up to be honest lol. I haven’t heard of these dresses before but I absolutely love them now that I know what they are! Hope this turned out ok <3

Personally I think Ciel would love your clothing style

He loves the way you look in your dress, how puffy yet form-fitting it is

Ciel likes the way the dark colors bring out your eyes

And it’s a plus that he also enjoys wearing darker colors, so the two of you tend to match coincidentally

It doesn’t matter how long or short the dress is, he loves how gorgeous you are in it

You’re just as ‘edgy’ and ‘mysterious’ as he is in the way you both present yourselves, and it is just so aesthetically pleasing 

[manias-wordcount]

Hello! I hope your taking requests

ciel x reader, it’s like an au where ciel is still the Queen’s Guard/Watch Dog except Queen Victoria is replaced with the reader as the Queen. Not like future Queen like she is ruling the country. She is still very young, perhaps one or two years older than ciel with a crown that is too big for her head and heavy making her movements slow. She’s much like the Queen of Hearts from the original Alice in Wonderland. With her being very strict and easy to offend, often leading to the beheading of people. Other than that she is quite calm and likes it when people make her laugh. She’s very well educated and efficient with all the responsibilities that follow behind her even at her age, so she has quite a lot of free time that she spends with ciel.

Queen! Reader HCs (Ciel Phantomhive)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You weren’t expecting to rise to power so quickly and yet here you are

For the most part, your subjects are fine with you…or perhaps it’s that they fear you

Nevertheless, you still do know that deep down inside, you’re still young at heart

So maybe that’s why you like to spend so much time in your guard dog’s manor

Because Ciel is a polite and respectful enough boy to you

And admittedly, you’ve grown to see him as a friend in between the long hideaways in his library and the quiet tea-time sessions you both share in his garden 

You feel that although your relationship started purely transactional, this relationship the two of you have could bloom into something more one day

Or maybe that’s just you coping with the fact that you’re never surrounded by anyone your own age these days

…And maybe all the times Ciel has offered to fix your hair and your crown for you is really starting to mess with your heart (but that’s an issue you and your court can deal with on another day)

That being said, his staff is nice enough too

Sebastian is probably the most efficient butler you’ve ever met, and the other three make you laugh much more than they disappoint you

They’re much better than the boring and stiff members of your staff who always drag down your mood by acting too prim and proper (especially in the moments when you don’t want that!)

 So the Phantomhive Staff make the perfect excuse to visit your guard dog for a bit of relaxation time

And although you’re still his queen and he is still you’re loyal subject

It is truly nice to meet a boy who doesn’t fear your every word and lives in a house full of people who make you laugh every time you come to visit

[serve-corps]

Ciel Phantomhive x reader

He wants a kiss but you pull a little lipstick prank ♡ 3k words

you finish adding the little details to your soft make-up look, finessing it with the setting powder and now smacking your lips as you coat them with a seemingly clear lipstick, you need to take action fast as not only would your plans setup reveal itself, but your victim may never trust you again. OR better yet, leave the building. You stood after finishing applying all of your makeup and your special lipstick.

Walking to Ciel's study, you feel your lips tingle as you use your pocket mirror, seeing your lips become slightly juicier. You can't tell that you've got makeup, which is a gift from God. While doing your final touch-ups on the way with your mini hand mirror, you arrived at Ciel's study.

Hehehehe... time to start some shit...

You knocked politely but on the contrary, just opened the doors straight after; waltzing into a boy who was cosplaying a pirate, glaring at your soul but not telling you to leave him alone, more or so just annoyed you didn't kiss him first or something. You sat your phat ass on his desk and started swinging your legs to and fro, admiring your earls pretty yet grumpy face. He continued to try and focus on his work however that was cut short as his eyes kept drifting to you, your pretty frame sat on his desk, out of his way. But even as you're out of his way physically, you are the biggest distraction in his head, God you made his head light, but heavy thoughts of you kept him from feeling alone.

The bluenette pushed himself and his papers away from his desk and leaned back, sighing in exasperation as his lover's presence somehow made him crave physical attention.

"Yes, love?" He asked, his one-eyed self looking at you with a soft gaze giving you a look of curiosity.

"C'mere sweetie" you said (PLEASE DONT CRINGE, YOURE SAYING IT IN A WHINEY VOICE) gently as you opened your arms for the earl to give you a hug. He does as you command and stands up sluggishly but drags his feet to you, sat on the edge of the desk, you separate your legs so you can be closer as you two hug. the boy groaned in fake annoyance as he wrapped his arms around your waist, bending down so he could bury his face in the crevice between your shoulder and neck. Just from the contact alone, you felt a small smile appear on the earl's face in your neck. it enlarged as you wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders.

you softly placed your lips on his neck with a clear lipstick mark being left to fill the empty space where your lips were. At this point he was melting into your embrace, the earl sinking more and more into you, You pepper kisses all over his neck, managing to get a clean mark on his crisp white shirt collar, you slowly started moving the kisses up his neck to his jaw, his eyes were closed with a content smile gracing his lips, sighs leaving his mouth as his body is practically a ragdoll in your hands, he opened his eyes that were half lidded with love and gratitude, placing one of his hands on your cheek, moving it so your lips are right across each other. The earl's eyes flickered from your gaze to your lips that were glossed, kissable and alluring. He pondered if it was a good idea to fall into a rabbit hole of affection just before he has a meeting with a new client. His thoughts exactly.

"fuck it." (his thought not mine)

he dove straight in and pulled you so your lips collided, you squeaked as you now felt mean and guilty as your plan was working so well. However you melted into the sweet kiss as Ciel's face was scarlet as you pulled away, he coughed into his hand to hide his embarrassment from his partner. you moved your hand up to his face and started wiping off the clear lipstick the was making his lips shimmer, ridding him of some embarrassment later on. you place one last kiss on his cheek, while his face gradually kept heating up that he didn't even notice the lipstick residue.

you talked for a little while about his work and about his clientele and about what this meeting will be based on, you learned this is a close client who Ciel has met many a time. that's good. this wont be too embarrassing.

You take note that the lipstick marks that only left behind a clear residue are now a transparent pink, barely noticeable, even if you strained your eyes.

Another few minutes go by and Ciel has to bid you farewell as his meeting was about to commence. You nuzzle your head into his hair and his face flushes at your affection, he stands from his chair while you lean against his desk. despite being his lover for a few years now, he still gets flustered over the little thing...how cute!!

as he was walking out of the door, the lipstick was dried. this'll be fun.

you tailed the boy from a distance as his butler paused for a moment when collecting his master, not only did he notice you following the both of them; that he could easily brush off; but the unnoticeable kiss marks of a lipstick.... that's a gradual thermal reactant lipstick, it takes a while to show the true pigmentation, but of course, Sebastian sensed it. The demon had a smile on his face, knowing your plan. He understood and wanted to have a laugh himself, seeing ciel in a state always brought a chuckle out of him and a wheeze out of you. This was surely going to be good.

The earl and his butler walked into the meeting, pride emanating off of the boy with an eyepatch.

The earl greeted his contractor, sitting down in the chair at the end of the table to show his authority.

That was about to be swiped from him in no more than five minutes.

One minute went by.....

The lipstick started to turn a pale transparent pink, if you saw Ciel in the right light, you would notice it indefinitely. Ciel looked as stoic as ever, being serious and impending. Leaving no room for trickery or deception.

Two minutes went by....

The lipstick was shiny, it was a darker pink now, the contractor noticed some slight discolouration on the earl, maybe he had bruises, but they weren't there before? Best not to ask, he could completely cut ties if he finds it insulting.

Three minutes went by...

The contractor; Mr. Whitley's lips were pressed together, trying to cover a small smile as he notices that the pink marks now faded into a light red, this must have been without the earls knowledge as he seems to be as dominant in the conversation as ever, acting on his high horse.

Four minutes went by....

The room was a bit lighter as the sun came out from its hiding spot amongst the grey clouds, it illuminated the young earls fact, the marks were more visible now in their light red pinkish colour, they were kiss marks...

Mr. Whitley leaned back in his chair to rest his elbow on the arm rest, he used his hand to cover his mouth that had a large smile.

'Oh how this little earl has grown.' He thought

Five minutes went by...

The marks were a deep red, some were very faint marks that were a smeared red, obviously attempted to be wiped off. So the misses planned this ay?

Mr. Whitley released a deep chuckle as he shook his head.

"Does my offer amuse you Mr. Whitley?..." the earl said in his ominous tone that would send chills down anyone's spine if they knew what he was capable of, but now? It just made it even funnier. The earl felt nothing but disrespect from the man as they had been close friends for a while, was he really mocking him right now?

"No, no sir, its just...I can see your misses cares for you very dearly..." the man said with a chuckle.

Ciel's glared hardened as you got brought into the conversation.

"Leave."

"W-wait! M-my lord!-"

"Do not bring my spouse into business interactions or I will treat it as a threat to her safety. Sebastian, show him the way out." The earl stood from his desk as the butler smiled and bowed.

As the butler walked down the hallway with Mr. Whitley; the man spoke up.

"Are you really not going to tell your master about his appearance?.." he asked the man hesitantly.

"Why on earth would I? This was miss (last name)'s plan after all." The butler responded coolly as if it were a daily occurrence.

"Well he might diminish our contract out of paranoia for his fiancé.." the man uttered worriedly as he was worried about the young earl as a friend.

Sebastian took note of the tone of his voice, recognising the consideration of the blue haired boy.

"Do not fret sire, he will come to realize and send an apology to your doorstep soon enough." The demon responded with a chuckle as he opened the door for him to leave.

The man looked at the butler and nodded in thanks for the hospitality, exiting through the door, closing it behind him; Sebastian chuckled.

'just how long will it take for him to realize?'

the grumpy earl had sent off one of his close acquaintances due to being disrespected. that was the last thing he was hoping for today, he only just had a good time with his fiancé after all. god somehow he misses her and it hasn't even been an hour yet. aahhh the power of love 😔

he was thinking to himself on how everyone in the manor for the past few minutes has been looking at him and giggling, all of them in fact. minus Tanaka with his 'hohoho'ing.

what? did something come undone? WAS HIS FLY DOWN?!

the boy discretely looked down and checked, seeing that the zip was at the top. a sigh of relief left his lips. this left him to his thoughts, why was everyone making a mockery of him today? is it some sort of rebellion phase? does he just look silly? maybe his hair is messy, is his tie undone?

he looked down at his collar to check if his little bow that you did for him this morning came undone, it was still in pristine condition, huh, so's the lipstick too, nice red. he looked back up and tried harder to think of a reason.

WAIT....WHAT?

he snapped his head back to his collar, seeing a bold red lipstick kiss mark on his collar.

you weren't wearing lipstick before when you two kissed! how?! how did this show up?! is that why everyone was looking at him strangely?!

he picked up the pace of his walk towards a bathroom which had a rather large mirror in it.

he gawked as the image before him was far more worse than he ever could of imagined. his face was covered. in. your. kiss. marks.

the earl took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs for the entire manor to hear,

"(Y/N)!!!!!!!!!"

his face was nearly as red as the lipstick that covered his lips, cheeks, neck and collar, dear god its like you painted him in red. he heard soft footsteps and hushed giggles from down the hallway, soon after hearing a gentle tapping at the door, this wasn't his bedroom but a bathroom.

he swung the door wide open with his cheeks growing in heat by the passing second, grabbing your arm and pulling your giggling form into the room.

Ciel pointed at his face and looked exasperated as he asked in a whiney childish voice, "what did you do (Y/n)?!"

you couldn't help but giggle harder as the little earl was ensnared in your trap of affection.

"want more, sweetheart?-"

"no!" the earl; if he could, blushed harder. he turned to the mirror and started wiping and scrubbing at his face with the cloth beside the sink, turning on the tap, letting the water run as he dampened the towel, trying his best to get it off.

you know your pity would get the best of you as you predicted, you were right. you were grateful to your past self that the lipstick didn't stain the skin and was not waterproof.

"here, Ciel. let me do it..." You gently pulled the cloth away from his face, not liking how aggressive he was with his scrubbing, his skin looked irritated. but not nearly how irritated the boy was with you however.

he pouted as you softly wiped off the lipstick, covering the cloth in a dark red that would definitely wash out. the earl was still pouting even though he was cleared of the red make-up.

he grumbled out a question directed at you, still grumpy but he could never hold anything against the love of his life.

"How did you do it? you weren't wearing any back then..." he was blushing recalling his bold actions prior to his meeting.

"well...I got a new lipstick that gained pigmentation the longer it's worn, I just happened to kiss you" you say sarcastically and roll your eyes, booping him on his cute little nose; resulting in him scrunching his face a bit. god, he was so adorable.

"well throw it away. it may have been funny to you but it was embarrassing. I'm making Sebastian bin them all. no arguments." he said, shaking his head still blushing faintly.

you chuckle softly at your lover's embarrassment and cherished his face. you grab him by the chin, making him face you. you brought the cloth to your lips and wiped off the remaining lipstick on your face. you pulled the cheap lipstick out of your pocket and threw it with surprisingly very accurate aim into the bin in the room. you stroked Ciel's cheek and looked into his eyes.

"see? no lipstick this time... can I?..."

the boy was almost as red as your previous lipstick, nodding softly and trying to look away, only for his chin to get picked back up by you as you brought your faces closer, closing the gap between you, kissing him softly and sweetly, hoping to make this moment last.

the earl's face relaxed as you kissed him innocently. wrapping his arms around your waist as he returned your love, pulling away you both smiled, gosh. The Ciel Phantomhive smiling? the world is ending. tell my mum I love her.

the roles were now reversed as you were putty in the blue-haired male's arms, eagerly accepting any type of affection from him like a deprived puppy.

the earl paused, realising the situation you were in, showing such affection in a bathroom is dastardly. disgusting.

he grabbed your wrist gently, leading you out of the room, not a single objection leaving your lips as you followed your lover blindly through the hallways, apparently he was walking to his bedroom, was it late at night? was it time to retire for the day?

you managed to pass a grandfather clock along the way, 7:30 in the afternoon. hm...so he wants an early night with you. that's sweet.

as he reached his bedroom doors, he flicked his eyes back to you, giving you a warm, soft and small smile to calm you if you were thinking anything.

he pulled you through, throwing you a nightshirt, expecting you to get changed in the bathroom. no words were exchanged but a silent conversation took place. one explaining that your spending the night. cuddles were apart of the package deal.

both of you were now in your nightshirts, very comfortable and thin fabric for breathability and softness. peak. the earl was led down in his massive ass bed, pulling back the heavy duvet, wide enough for you to get in and pull it over yourself. this was on the inside of the earl so you'd be spooned by him as you led down. your face was dusted pink at the innocent gesture.

as you got into the bed, you felt him shuffle closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist once more, snuggling into your neck seeking the comfort of your warmth. your body relaxed as you were held, normally it's you being the big spoon because of his small stature but today was an exception.

Ciel entangled his legs with yours, feeling tired but awake, he started a conversation that was barely above a whisper.

"so why did you leave all of that on me?.."

you responded back, turning around to face the earl, still being encircled in his arms, both of his eyes were visible. you stared mesmerised or even hypnotised by the blue and lilac colouring.

"how could I not let everyone know how much I'm in love with you?..."

your whisper was so soft it sounded almost as though you mouthed it, but the earl heard it loud and clear, his heart hammering in his chest at your words. he strained upwards and kissed your forehead with a featherlike touch.

"Maybe next time I should do the same, but make it last a week or two..." the earl said innocently, despite the fact your mind went to the gutter, thinking of love bites when he meant one of the lipstick stains or permanent ink.

you squeaked and buried your head in his chest embarrassed about your mind drifting down to the gates of hell because this boy had the least dirty mind out of the two of you, you felt bad.

several minutes later, the boy twitched as he finally came to the realisation of your thought process, feeling ashamed of not only how long it took for him to discover the secret meaning behind your flusteredness but how he worded his statement, he groaned and buried his face in your hair.

"T-That's now what I meant-"

"I know." you squeaked out. your body now succumbing to the urge of sleep, he really was comfortable and comforting.

"I love you..." you mumbled as you felt yourself drift off to a land of dreams, the only thing keeping you in the real world being your partner, you weren't leaving till he joined you.

Ciel also closed his eyes and cuddled you closer as he started to drift of too. his voice grumbly and low.

"I love you too angel...."

both of you were no longer awake but both of you had smiles on your faces, subconsciously you both loved the presence of your partner even in the world of dreams.

♡ Thanks for reading lovelies ♡

[localratman]

listen, i can acknowledge that in canon, ciel and sebastion have an inherently toxic and unbalanced relationship and that they're victim and abuser and that sebastian is preying on and manipulating ciel and neither of them are wonderful people and all that sad and nuance shit, but dammit im sad and im gonna read found family/parent!sebastian fics on ao3 about it.

[alastor-simp]

Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis Reacting to a reader who sings like Japanese singer “Ado”

Deciding to try doing another fandom, so I’m gonna do black butler. Only doing Sebby and Ciel since I’m more in tune on how to write them compared to the other characters. Gonna continue the Ado series with them too. I know that this was the Victorian Era so they didn't have stuff like Youtube, so I'm gonna try to change it a bit, and not include that. Enjoy everyone :)

Ciel Phantomhive♟️

♟️Ciel had many duties to attend to as he was the head of Phantomhive manor along with being the Queen’s Watchdog. Apart from filling out paperwork for his company, he had many hobbies that Sebastian help teach him like hunting or playing the violin.

♟️He had met you by Lizzy, as she had found you during one of her strolls in London. You were a frail little thing, but you had a certain amount of skills, so Ciel decided to hire you as a maid for the manor. Hopefully your skills you be much better then the other three. You were a fast learner, and quickly adapted to life at the manor. Both him and Sebastian were impressed with how well you handle your tasks.

♟️Ciel was on his way back to his office when he heard the sound of someone singing. Curious, he headed to wear the sound was coming from and made his way over to one of the rooms which had the door slightly open. Ciel peeked in and saw you in the middle of the room, leaning against the window. You had just finished up dusting the area and decided to take a small break, and while in your break, you started singing as it was something you loved to do.

♟️Once you finished, you heard the sound of clapping and turned to see Lord Phantomhive, leaning against the door with a small smile on his face. “Ahh, Young Master, I was just um-”, you were flustered and tried to explain yourself, but Ciel just put his hand up, which made you stop talking

♟️ “I am not upset with you, y/n. I’m very surprised actually. You never told me you could sing.” Ciel said as he walked closer towards you, standing next to the window. You went on to explain to him that you always loved singing, but you had a slight problem with revealing yourself to everyone as you preferred keeping your identity hidden.

♟️Ciel listened to you and he smiled softly, walking closer to you and grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. He said that you were very talented and should pursue what you loved doing instead of working as a maid. You would still live in the manor, but he would do everything he can to support you in anyway. He knew that hiding your identity would be a challenge, but he assume that maybe a mask would be beneficial to hide your identity.

♟️After that, Ciel would host events at the manor where he would have you perform in front of all of the guests. Everyone was blown away by you that all of the nobles were gossiping about who you were. Pretty soon, you were getting requests to perform at theaters and balls. Everyone was referring to you as the mysterious singer since no one could see your face when you performed, but no one really question it.

♟️Ciel was happy for you that you were achieving your dreams and he was glad to assist in any way with events. He also would like to know what was the new song you were working on, as he was feeling giddy, but he tried to tried to hide it to avoid teasing from Sebastian.

♟️His favorite song that you sang was a cover you did called " Crime & Punishment". He wasn't familiar with that genre of music, but he did enjoy it, and loved how high you went with certain notes in the song.

Sebastian Michaelis😈

😈Sebastian had many duties to fulfill for his young master. There was many tasks he had to play, playing his role as a butler for the manor while also serving as the demon contractor/protector for the young masters soul. Tasks like this for a human would be difficult, but for Sebastian it was nothing.

😈Since Sebastian as been around for a long time, he possessed many talents and skills, ranging from speaking Latin, horseback riding, and playing certain instruments. He was tasked with teaching the young master these things as he was the Lord of Phantomhive manor, though his skills for the violin needed a lot of work.

😈Sebastian had met you during one of his strolls in London. He was on his way back from receiving supplies, when he passed an alley and saw you being held against the wall by three men, with knives. Ahh humans, always so greedy that they would resort to stealing from a young maiden. It all happen so quick, one second you were being threatened by these guys for money then all of a sudden, all three of the men ended being knocked out, and a tall handsome man wearing a suit was in front of you. You thanked him for helping you, and went out of your way to say you were looking for a place to work, to which led you to being introduce to Ciel Phantomhive and becoming a maid for the manor.

😈Sebastian noticed that you were nothing like the other three workers, as you didn't possess any secret skills, but he did appreciate how quick you were to learn and perform your tasks at the manor. There was something about you that drew you to him, he wasn't sure what it was, but he figured there was more too you then just being a regular human.

😈Upon leaving the young masters study after serving him his afternoon tea, Sebastian started to make his way back to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal, and to make sure Bard wasn't using the flamethrower again. He stopped once he heard the sounds of someone singing nearby. Curious, he ventured closer to where the singing was coming from, and noticed that one of the doors was opened slightly. Peeking his head through the door, Sebastian saw you in the middle of the room, dusting one of the shelves, while singing a random melody.

😈"Oya, this human is very interesting", Sebastian thought as he entered the room slowly as not to disturb your singing. Upon turning around after you finished dusting, you dropped the feather duster in shock and covered your mouth as you realized Sebastian was in the room and heard you singing: "S-sebastian! U-um I was um-." Stumbling over your words, you were unable to explain anything to him, and quickly ducked your head down in embarrassment. Chuckling, Sebastian walked closer towards you, lifting your head by placing his fingers on your chin: "Your singing is quite beautiful, Y/N. How come you never told me or the young master you could sing?"

😈Looking away from his gorgeous eyes, you explained to him that you always loved singing, but you preferred to sing in private, or sing where no one could tell it was you. You apologized again if you had distracted him from his duties, but Sebastian just shook his head and smiled saying there was no need to apologize for something like this, but he still wondered why you decided to work as a maid and not a singer.

😈After that, Sebastian explained what had happened with the young master about your hidden talents and insisted in a plan that could benefit both his company and your dream. Ciel was surprised that Sebastian had taken an interest in you, but he didn't think to hard on it and listened to what plan Sebastian had in mind.

😈The both of them discussed the plan with you to be a private singer for the Funtom company. Whenever they would travel to an event for one of the other lords, they would have you there to sing and entertain the guests with your beautiful singing, in disguise of course as you were insistent that you wanted your appearance hidden from everyone. Word spread quickly over the streets of London about the mysterious singer of the Funtom company, including reaching the Queen herself as she was amazed by this singer and sent a letter to Lord Phantomhive herself, requesting the mysterious singer to attend the next ball/event she would plan.

😈Sebastian was quite pleased with how well things were going. Not only was the young masters company becoming extremely popular now, but also you were able to do what you loved which was sing. Of course, Sebastian had to make sure your needs were met and made sure you were not overworking yourself too much as what kind of butler would he be if he didn't provide the best care for you.

😈His favorite song of yours is "Domestic De Violence" . He finds the melody to be very beautiful and finds the lyrics to be very manipulating, but in a good way for him.

[delicate-pointofview]

GUYS. JUST. LOOK. AT. IT.

This incredible artist, @vivi-ships, made this fanart for my fanfiction, AND I AM IN AWE, REALLY!

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! WHY IS THIS SO GOOD?!

This drawing overcame all my expectations about the art that was in my head! That's the first time this happens!

I almost started to cry (not joking), because LOOK AT THEM!

Seb worshipping Ciel's body, and the distant expression Ciel makes, like he's in other world, evading reality... REINASSANCE PAINTING, BITCH! That's all I wanna pass through my story!

Thank you so much @vivi-ships, love you, really! <3

follow them oh their other platforms, you not gonna regret it:

pixiv and twitter: @ShriekingBeast

[serikaafuro]

Meet my Black Butler Oc, She is Edgar Redmond's older sister, Evelyn Redmond.

Evelyn is 23 years old and, like the rest of her family, is known to be very beautiful and in fact, attracts so many men.

She is a graceful, elegant and calm woman, but on the other hand she is very overprotective, over-involved and worried towards her younger brother. Hence her dangerous side, as she will even disregard ethics for his sake.

Her first appearance was on the eve of a cricket tournament. Evelyn came with her uncle, Viscount Druitt, to meet Edgar. After she told him she was looking forward to the match, she and Lawrence's sisters had been a chat.

Even after the incident at Weston School came to light, Evelyn never blamed her younger brother. She consoled Edgar and suggested that if he was uncomfortable at home, he should go to his uncle's house until things cooled down.

She frequented the Sphere Music Hall after Edgar became S4 in the Blue Cult arc, but she was unaware of the anomalies there. By the time the newspapers exposed the evil of the Sphere Music Hall, it was already too late and she and her family couldn't contact with Edgar or any of the other three. She has been emotionally unstable ever since, and hates Blavat Sky so much that his mug shot in the newspaper was torn to shreds with a knife. She is also spending a lot of money searching for Edgar to somehow bring him back.

// I will post more about her other than these in due course.

[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter X: To Be A Hidden Treasure…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: mentions of suicide, detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, body shaming, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

REMINDER: This is a heavier chapter that hits MOST of those warnings and your safety and comfort comes before everything! Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you would like clarification about this chapter’s subject matter.

Author’s Note: Hi Everyone! Thank you so much for reading Straight Laced, I'm so happy I can finally show you the last chapter of this exhilarating story. Including this chapter, you will have read 70,249 words of my writing, and I'm so, so grateful for your time. I have more to say about this fic all the way at the bottom of this post, so I'll keep this brief and leave you with one helpful hint: the part of the grand pas that Y/n is talking about can be found at 2:56 in the video I linked. With that, I hope this chapter is everything you've all been so patiently waiting for. And more.

Happy Reading!!

Dan <3

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER |

MASTERLIST

Postlude

February, 1889

The Imperial Ballet School, Russia

The frosty draft of St. Petersburg’s unforgiving winter slipped underneath The Imperial Ballet School’s multitude of long windows, sending a chill through the air. A thick layer of frost shrouded the dance studio’s large windows, both shielding the expansive room from both the outside, and the outside from seeing inside. 

The soft piano played the beginning notes of Giselle’s Act I scene where she realizes that the young man who had been courting her had been lying about his identity. The Duke Albrecht had been posing as a peasant to woo the beautiful village girl, but now, one of the woman’s competing suitors exposed his lie. With the truth exposed, Giselle fell into heartbroken panic. 

The first ballerina of two in consideration for the role started to arrange her body into the beginning steps into Giselle’s pained rendition of her previous pas de deux with the disguised duke. The dance, once loving and serene, was now supposed to be frantic and wrecked with pain, as displayed by the ballerina’s stricken expression. 

Seconds before she could begin, the ballet master knocked her cane into the floor, halting all—the ballerina, the music, any onlookers. When the cane came crashing down, nobody breathed.

“Anastasia Gusev. How many hours did you rehearse this week?” Irina Abramova demanded, scrutiny weighing heavily on her drawn eyebrows and pursed lips.

Without waiting for Natasha’s response, the ballet master continued in Russian, shaking her head, red-rouged lips pursed. “Whatever it was, it is far from enough. The combination has not even started yet, and I can already see you are doing it wrong. In fact, if I made you step outside naked and beg for change, holding a sign that says ‘I cannot dance,’ you would not feel anywhere close to the amount of shame I feel at this moment for considering you,” the retired prima ballerina noted. “I may even hate myself now. Because of you.” 

No matter the chill of the gelid weather that the winter sighed into the room, nothing was more biting than Irina’s commentary. Still, in the face of her heart shattering, Natasha held her chin high and rolled her shoulders back, biting down on the fact that she’d put in over 50 hours of work in that past week. She’d skipped most meals, most full nights of sleep, with the specific intent to secure Giselle. 

Now? The young ballerina felt her eyes sting with tears that threatened to fall. Fury squeezed at her chest.

Clearing her throat, Irina addressed the rest of the class. Her gnarled hands tapped her cane against the smooth floor, her onyx gaze alight with determination. Per usual, the ballet master kept her wiry gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, reminiscent of the ballerina bun she wore in her prime. 

“Does Anastasia here resemble our Giselle, right now? Does she portray a woman descending into madness after her lover has betrayed her? I want to see a heartbroken tour de force. I want to be rendered speechless from the sheer depth of emotion on your face.” 

Giving Natasha another bored once over, Irina looked disinterested. She addressed the class once more. “Honestly! Is anyone rendered speechless? I certainly am not.”

As Natasha expected, the rest of the company betrayed her, mumbling their doubts, shaking their heads, weakly suppressing their snide smiles. They never failed to disappoint her. Natasha bit her tongue, swallowing down her desire to challenge them to portray Act One’s infamous Mad Scene better than she. No one else wanted this role like she did.

The wrinkles marring Irina’s face creased with her satisfied expression, watching Natasha’s face redden. She was well-aware of the young ballerina’s hatred of her first name, her hatred of her company members. This humiliation was more effective than anything—more than the feeling of Irina’s cane digging itself into Natasha’s lower back to correct her posture, or dodging a swing at her lowering leg. Irina swung at lowering legs to inspire dancers to hold arabesques more firmly. 

The young dancer could withstand any pain, save for this public humiliation.

“Anastasia, show yourself to the barre. I am growing tired of your mediocrity—your intent to waste our time. Faina Nikotinova, you will be my Giselle. Anastasia, do try to improve. Before I send you outside to freeze some talent into you,” her eyes flashed meaningfully, insinuating that her earlier words were not just a threat. They were a promise If Natasha couldn’t improve her dancing. 

But she had. Irina was simply refusing to allow her to perform.

“You did not let me start,” Natasha snapped, raising her blue eyes to meet Irina’s. Her hands curled into fists, her manicured nails digging into her palms. Faina wasn’t half the dancer she was—her jumps were lazy, she was too chubby to last much longer. Irina had said it herself, and that was the most offensive aspect of this.

“There was no need to. Now, go away. Better yet, leave my school. I do not tolerate this attitude in my company and I have no desire to see you again,” Irina replied coolly, motioning for Faina to take the center of the floor. She tapped her cane against the floor to cue the piano back. 

Hot, angry tears brimmed in Natasha’s eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Fine. Fine. If Irina wished for Duck Butt to lead the company as Giselle, she was more than welcome to choose her and watch the company sink under her mediocrity.

The force Natasha slammed the door with caused the walls to tremble. The muffled laughter from behind her sparked molten rage to flow through her veins. Surely she’d go mad if she was made to face such a stunning defeat again.

May, 1890

The Royal Opera House

No one could compare to Natasha Gusev‘s Aurora in The Royal Opera House’s first and breathtaking run of Sleeping Beauty, the product of sleepless nights spent slaving at the barre. Spent rehearsing her expressions in a mirror, forcing herself to learn to tear up on command, envisioning the very moment that Faina stole her opportunity. 

Anastasia died in Petrograd. Natasha would never allow herself to be humiliated in such a way again. She’d sooner die.

Natasha practiced until she passed out, until her feet bled and swelled, and her legs cramped. She worked herself harder than Irina could ever dream of, drilling the same moves and sequences into her body until she could dance them in her sleep. 

The ballerina had fought for this, brandished her soul for it, pushed herself through classes that were taught in a language she couldn’t understand. The only language Natasha shared with Londoners was the French terminology used in ballet. She could hardly decipher the rest: not the abuse, not the praise. It took much longer for her to master English than it did for her to secure this coveted role.

And Natasha’s reward was thundering applause, night after night. Each adoring yell louder than the last. They had come to watch her, in spite of the lies that cursed school poisoned her mind with. She made this company the best in London—if not, Europe. She had no idea what came of Faina and The Imperial Ballet’s run of Giselle, but it didn’t matter.

Nonetheless, it didn’t take long for Natasha’s star to capture more attention than she had initially bargained for, either. Alongside the unabashed adoration for her dancing came competition for her. That was how she found herself at the center of William Wood’s attention—his gray eyes lingered on her, no matter where she found herself. 

They would narrow each time she met with a new subscriber, they’d scan her with consideration each time he pulled up a chair and watched the company rehearse. William liked to claim that he was merely interested in the artistic integrity of the show, but from the way he’d bite his lip and adjust his trousers, everyone knew better. Everyone understood that he was the heir to the business supporting the Opera House—everything would belong to him in a decade or so. 

Natasha was the center of her own world. She had her patrons to satisfy, the stage to alight with her talent. The ballerina made a careful effort to rebuff William without ever needing to speak with him. 

That was, until he outsmarted her one dawn. He’d waited in the Opera House’s main rehearsal room—Natasha’s favorite because of the tall mirrors that lined the walls. 

“Hello, there,” William said, flashing his most winning smile at her. He couldn’t have been much older than Natasha. “You’re the principal dancer, aren’t you?” The young man had been poised on his usual chair from the side of the studio, but he stood to meet her. 

“Yes,” Natasha’s words were clipped because she could see through his disposition. He knew who she was—he was pretending not to. “If you would excuse me—” she immediately took a step back, preferring to rehearse in private. Or anywhere William was not. The prima ballerina shouldered her bag and turned to leave, only to freeze at the sound of her full name.

“Anastasia is a powerful name. Did you know it means resurrection?” William asked, chancing several steps closer. He caught her wrist, but maintained a lax grip. She could pull away if she wished to. 

“My name is Natasha,” she corrected crisply, her blank expression unchanged. 

“I’m William Wood,” he ignored her, gently guiding her closer. Now, she could see a kaleidoscope of different gray shades, ranging from near-white to intense storm clouds. “Did you know my name means desire?” 

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed, unimpressed with his onomastics lesson. “How lovely,” she answered flatly, extricating her hand. Now, his sterling gaze landed on her thin lips, wanting to kiss her, presumably. “I really should be going. I have to rehearse—if you know that I am the prima ballerina, then…” leave me be, she wanted to conclude.

Instead, Natasha let her words hang in the air, allowing William to put them together on his own.

“Look—wait, all I mean is…” William paused, moistening his lips. Clearly, he was unused to the prospect of no.  “You’re flawless. And I would simply like the chance to…”

“To what?” Natasha asked indignantly, allowing the offense she took to show on her face. Normally, she wasn’t quite so harsh against these advances—she had a tendency to simply allow herself to enjoy the attention she received from such men—but William? Now? The sun hardly had a chance to start the day, and this man had put all of this time and planning into seducing her? 

“I like you. I would like the chance to get to know you. Beyond the dancing because there’s clearly so much more to get to know,” he clarified, softening his expression into something more intimate. “Please, Natasha.” 

The ballerina was unsure if she relented because of William’s honeyed words, the way his steel gaze reminded her of a singular spotlight focused on her, or because he was the heir to the Opera House, but she felt her resolve crumble. After all, there were plenty of other ballerinas who glowed with envy of her in the first place. Natasha loved to imagine how their hatred of her would intensify with William Wood courting her. That thought would feel better than any seduction tactic he could try on her.

It took weeks of flowers, lavish gifts, and fiery touches stolen between rehearsals before Natasha agreed to marry him. They were in William’s Southampton home, entangled with one another in his bed, unclothed. Sweaty after a round of passionate sex because it made William tired and affectionate. The perfect combination for an agreeable mood in a man. 

“Marry me. Be my wife,” the man practically begged, kissing Natasha’s knuckles. It wasn’t the first time he asked, his father John having pressured him into proposing ever since the rumors of their sneaking around began. It was indecent behavior of William—not unexpected, but embarrassing to the Woods, their eldest son messing around with a foreign dancer. “Please. You’re all I want, Nat,” he sighed, burying his face into the crook of her neck, kissing the clammy skin there as well. 

No one in the company could claim that Natasha was the principal dancer because she was sleeping with William, either. Her talent more than spoke for itself, illuminating the stage just as much as the spotlights did. The ballerina was addicted to this pining of his, the fortune she’d come into by taking his name. He was a puppy of a man that would be at her side, hanging onto her every word, touch, and glance so long as she could maintain her perfection. It just so happened that he had direct access to generations of wealth and influence.

“All right, Will. We can get married,” she relented, only for the man to pull her into an intense kiss, his fingers running through her unruly brown curls. 

For months, her life was blissful. 

Natasha maintained her position as prima ballerina, and they were married, which also ended her responsibilities at the dance foyer. Being married to William gave Natasha the right to all of the Opera House’s paperwork, granting her information on each of her company members, the ballet’s revenue—noting the spike in sales with delight, considering it had come in tandem with her publicity. Having a run of the same show continue for so long was unprecedented, but Natasha’s performances sold out each night. The company was only beginning its considerations for the next ballet’s lead.

Accordingly, Natasha would dance almost day and night. She ate once a day, if she remembered to, more intent on maintaining the lean body that kept jealous suitors leering. The more they looked, the more William spent for her, the more he doted on her. All the more fulfilled the young dancer felt, the more she desired.

Another starring role, more lovers, more press coverage. More rehearsal time. 

Natasha etched the hard work into her bones... until it broke her. 

She remembered searing pain in her hip, crashing to the floor. And she found herself undone against the rehearsal room’s floor, the clammy wood cold against her cheek. Yelling out for William, lips pursed with pain she refused to allow to surface past. She would never allow herself to cry. 

The doctors had given her a prescription for morphine powder for the pain. They suggested she stop dancing for the next year or two, but the morphine had done plenty for her discomfort. Enough for Natasha to refuse giving her position to a ballerina who couldn’t have put a quarter of sacrifice into earning her role. 

No—anyone else interested would need to pry it out of her cold, dead grip. 

Each day, Natasha’s extensive routine only grew harder to sustain: rehearsing for the company’s future run of Mlada and perfecting any movement she might have mishandled as Aurora from the evening before. She would mix the morphine powder into her tea between rehearsals, between acts, before she met her husband each night.

Stopping now would be a death sentence with early casting for Mlada so close…there was no doubt the director would care to cast Natasha in the lead if she seemed unreliable. 

Anyone who wanted it enough would see themselves through, Natasha reminded herself. In time, my body will learn to keep up. 

Smile through it. Hold back your tears. Smile through it.

Natasha held her life together through the painkiller and sheer force of will, but it was only a matter of time before the injury became unbearable. Overly stiff, Natasha’s hips began to lock, ruining her range of motion. She could no longer hold her arabesques. 

The pain had spread down to her groin and her backside, those joints as good as rusting door hinges, stiffening with each movement.

Weeks after her initial fall, Natasha collapsed on the rehearsal floor. Again. Only this time, she couldn’t hold her tears at bay, an incredibly dark (and realistic) part of the young woman knowing fully well that it had been her last day in pointe shoes. 

“You need a break. Be reasonable, Nat.” William ordered bluntly, shoving the cane in her hands days after. Weary of her and the same tedious argument. “Would you prefer to need a full-time wheelchair before 25?”

Natasha held the ivory cane in her hands, testing its weight. She frowned at the medical accessory, feeling her life slip away each second she held the cursed thing. Her husband, as typical of him, didn’t understand. Ballet had been her purpose—she’d been put on the Earth to capture the breath of an audience. And now?

She was a disturbing failure. How could she look at herself in the mirror?

“Will…” Natasha fixed her hard gaze on her husband, reading his mounting frustration with her like a book. 

“Shut. Up.” She all but threw the cane back at her husband and the offending doctor who brought it into their home. She slammed the door behind her in an attempt to charge back to their shared bedroom. Though unsurprisingly, she only accomplished a few short paces before her hip locked, failing Natasha’s next step and sending her to the ground again.  

The former ballerina couldn’t hold back her tears, this time. They fell in droves, in pained sobs. The grievous sound of an ingénue knowing her life was over.

“Come on, Nat,” William said in the same tired voice, attempting to help lift her off the floor. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Natasha waved him off haphazardly, hiding her face. She heard William's heavy, retreating steps.  

Nearly a year into Natasha’s injury, she’d become proficient with her walking cane. Technically, she could hobble clumsily without the assistance, but watching the rest of the company’s pitying gaze at the sight of her ungainliness became overwhelming. If she was to be the Opera House’s new ballet master and director, no one could pity her.

There was no room in ballet for pity. Only perfection.

So, she preferred to test the dancers around her. Break the weak ones—the ones who turned to dancing out of desperation, failing to understand that it was an elusive skill that required years of nurturing. She liked to push them until they fractured like a mirror, leaving the company on their own accord or giving Natasha a valid reason to excuse them. Particularly the ones her husband was bedding behind her back and mortifying her with. 

“I’m so sorry, Natasha, I didn’t even– I don’t even want him!” Norah Vincent cried out, “please just listen to me, please!” 

The young ballerina chased her director up the cement stairs leading from the Opera House’s lowest floor—where the largest rehearsal room was located—to the first floor. It was late at night, and there wasn’t a soul on the property, save for them. Natasha had reserved the pleasure of informing Norah that she knew fully well of the liberties she’d taken with William until they were alone, more interested in watching the young woman’s composure implode as a private show. To ensure such an outcome, Natasha waited until the end of their private rehearsal to inform Norah of her termination. The ballerina didn’t even have the chance to unlace her pointe shoes. 

“No. You will make yourself scarce from my company. I like Analisse better for Mlada, so you were bound to be let go soon, anyhow,” Natasha answered indifferently, keeping her face impassive. She knew that the aloofness in her statement would make Norah feel just as worthless as she was as a dancer.

“I don’t understand, please. I need this work. Please. Just allow me one more chance,” Norah continued, struggling to keep pace with Natasha. 

“You sleep with my husband, and even worse, you continue to curse my stage with your mediocrity, and you have the audacity to ask me for another chance? After all of the chances I’ve already given you?” The ballet master plunged her cane against the top of the final stair for leverage to reach the top. “I told you that if I gave you Mlada, you would need to work on your stamina and flexibility night and day. I see no change.” 

Natasha finally turned around to face the weeping ballerina, watching her trudge up the remaining stairs. Crying was so ugly.

“I swear I practice every day, I-I-I…” Norah couldn’t even decide which claim to refute first. “I only…I just,” she wiped her face. “I love this company, and dancing, and…” she begged. “I do my very best each and every day, I practice, I stretch, I observe, I listen. Don’t you see?”

Norah still had a functioning body. Her health and mobility. All the time in the world. There was no excuse. Natasha practically gift wrapped and handed Norah her career.

The director’s head pounded, frustrated tears begging to fall from her eyes. What was there to not understand? Norah simply didn’t want the success enough or she would give every spare moment to cultivating her skills.

“Stop. Blubbering.” Natasha ordered sharply, turning on her heel to continue to her office. Norah had just stepped up to the level floor, the expansive staircase behind her. 

“N-No! I need you to hear me! Haven’t you ever made a mistake? You know, I don’t understand why you always have to demand perfection! From everyone! No matter how hard we try or how hard we–” 

“That’s enough!”

Without another thought, Natasha found herself turning around. Her cane fell to the floor as she put all of her strength into shoving Norah down the stairwell. Of course, it hadn’t been her plan to dispose of the ballerina in such a way. Really, it should have been horrifying, but Natasha couldn’t force herself to feel any bit of remorse. Her squealing had given her quite a headache.

In fact, when Natasha failed to find a pulse from the young woman’s lifeless body, she felt the first sense of true gratification she’d felt in months. As her shoulders had been relieved of a burden as heavy as the world.

And each time afterwards, it only grew easier. Each time, Natasha planned a bit more intricately. She could only win: if the Yard took notice, all signs would point to her power-drunk husband, leaving Natasha to his assets. Revenge.

It became a game of strategy: who, when, where, how. 

Louise, Georgina, and Mabel were a blur over the course of the next few weeks. They disappeared, Natasha explained they couldn’t handle the burdens from the company and resigned, no one questioned her. Most ballerinas didn’t have family, the profession often a last resort for income. The public deemed them prostitutes: unworthy of care.

Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse had moved to new companies, but that didn’t stop her. Natasha knew who her husband had seen. Who betrayed her. They wore their guilt on their sleeves. It didn’t matter if they transferred to new companies—how could they be allowed to live after betraying their mentor? They were mediocre ballerinas, anyhow, merely ensemble members that Natasha stuck in the back of formation. 

The Yard was never finding them.

Eliza had a host of lethal allergies. All it took was a well-timed cross-contamination—it was only a matter of time. 

Janet was weak. Natasha probably could have asked the girl to jump off of the Tower Bridge and she would have done it, surely. 

Amelié never noticed that her perfume bottle was tampered with. Dimethylmercury was a life-changing discovery on Natasha’s part. Honestly, Natasha wished she’d used it with all of the nuisances that came before her… and after. 

The new success should have satisfied Natasha. Until Maisie—her first mistake. As if marrying some fraud was a feat to be proud of. Maisie thought it appropriate to inform Natasha that she was leaving the Opera House company for a new opportunity, an unseemly topic at her husband’s gallery reveal. Somehow, Terrance had offered to co-found his ballet company with Maisie as the star. And this came a week after the Yard fell for the trap Natasha had set, having followed her carefully planned trail of breadcrumbs that implicated her dear, cheating husband for murdering his company members. She simply had to make an appearance at the event to save face for the Wood family—setting the narrative straight before the press could.

Natasha would have been able to successfully send William to prison in her stead, had she not lost her temper the night of that bloody gala. She;d only gone to safe face after William’s arrest, after all. To manage the poor publicity his infidelity would poison Natasha’s hard work with.

“My husband is renovating the Pavillion Theatre. You know what that means? It means that I don’t need you pestering me anymore! You’re practically an old maid, a bloody relic now, you know that?” Maisie grinned, euphoric with the ability to finally speak freely. She’d asked Natasha to step out from the museum with her, and the ballet master had suspected it was to discuss something unseemly when there was a lack of witnesses around. 

“You have no idea how much we all hate you, Natasha.”

Those were Maisie’s last words. Because Natasha had pulled out William’s Flintlock Pocket Pistol and shot her. She hardly had any time to ensure Maisie was dead before fleeing the scene, tucking her walking cane under her arm. Best of luck with your new company, Blondie. 

After that blunder, Natasha had a choice. Herself, or Y/n Y/l/n, a French girl who happened upon the wrong man and his misguided investigation at the wrong time. In Natasha’s haste, she’d also lost control again, landing her at a criminal sentencing at London’s City Hall. 

Y/n was willing to destroy her opponents to succeed. Y/n had been the first ballerina Natasha had finally considered to be somewhere near the eminence of her own former glory, and had ended her, handing her a crushing defeat. 

Natasha should have put the dimethylmercury in Y/n’s make-up much sooner, arsenic in that wine she self-soothed with. By the time Natasha had offered Y/n that toast, there was no chance that she would have accepted a drink from her. Waiting had sealed Natasha’s fate to this wretched courtroom. 

Thundering applause and scarce cheering pulled Natasha from her thoughts. She must have missed her sentencing, lost in her ruminating, judging by the immediate lift in the courtroom’s somber atmosphere. 

This entire audience wanted her punished for her choices. Why? She felt the magnitude of her decisions spoke for themselves.

The former prima ballerina stared back into the prima ballerina’s vacant gaze from the defendant’s table, attempting to dissect the poison Y/n regarded her with. 

For the first time since St. Petersburg, Natasha could confidently say what Giselle was supposed to look like.

November 25, 1895

London City Hall

“Anastasia Natalia Gusev-Wood, this court sentences you to lifelong service in the Reading Gaol Correctional Facility with no chance of appeal,” the judge announced. 

The room— the press, sparse onlookers including the few bereaved family members of victims, cheered, but the woman only stared at you. She didn’t react to her sentencing or the relief that erupted from the room. All she fixated on was you, her face illegible. 

You refused to give the killer the satisfaction of analyzing your mood, the opportunity to insert herself in your head. Violent narcissists like her craved attention like flies to fruit. Instead, you released your captive breath and sent a tired look to Ciel to signal your readiness to leave. This woman was nobody to you: the result of a vain monster picking and choosing which lessons to take from ballet.

It was an art form before it was a competition. And certainly, no competition should ever lead to bloodshed. 

That was why you failed to feel any semblance of relief, even as you watched the officers escort Natasha away in handcuffs. You had still failed so many of your kin: eleven dead, their stories stolen and suppressed. The killer had painted them as weak after their deaths, dishonoring them, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. You couldn’t have been more wrong to ignore each and every one. 

You hardly remembered the sound of Norah Vincent’s voice. The color of her hair. In fact, save for Amelié, you didn’t know any of these victims on a personal level—you remembered how tall Mabel was because you were envious; Louise had trouble with her stamina because she was newer to the company; Georgina always had a smile on her face, she let you borrow her scissors to break in a new pair of shoes. That was all you could recall. Other than these minute instances, you hadn’t bothered to concern yourself with anyone besides yourself, and failed to notice these disappearances happening right under your nose. The Yard couldn’t even find the bodies of Norah, Mabel, Louise, Georgina, Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse, severely limiting the investigation you and Ciel could accomplish for them.

Even worse, you failed to piece together the evidence pointing to Natasha and refused to listen to Ciel’s concerns. You had allowed your personal feelings to erode your judgment, delaying the investigation. 

How could you feel a sense of victory, when so much had been lost? 

The only way you could proceed was honoring them in death, especially now that their true killer was brought to justice.

“Ciel, I want to bring the flowers over before it becomes too dark” You requested, referring to the bouquets you asked Sebastian to arrange. Given that most of the victims did not have any next of kin— or were the sole earners for their destitute relatives— Ciel personally took on their burial expenses. Apparently, he had a personal contact working in the burial industry. An Undertaker. 

Additionally, you wished to always honor their memorials with fresh florals. 

“Certainly. Our work is complete here, for now,” Ciel answered, ending the officer he’d been talking to away with a nod. 

Later 

The Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park

The sun started to descend below the treeline, casting a shadow over the graves lined in front of you and Ciel. Norah Vincent, Louise Crowley, Georgina Dawson, Mabel Hughes, Sophia Ludwig, Harriet White, Analisse Sterling, Eliza O’Malley, Janet Fischer, and Amelié Langston. All of the victims, save for Maisie Stannard. Distraught, her husband opted to bury her with his family.

“Do you think this really makes a difference?” You asked Ciel, standing from your kneeling position. You dirtied the front of your plain dress from kneeling in the dirt to arrange the flowers around the headstones. It was too cold to plant them, but they did make a lovely display of white and baby blue among the warm autumnal foliage.

The wind made the bare tree branches rustle and their fallen leaves dance, but thankfully, it left the white flowers you placed unmussed. You placed a combination of daisies, blue irises, and calla lilies around them, hoping their serene beauty might bring some peace to the souls around. Though most of these graves were missing bodies, you still hoped their spirits would resonate with the resting place. Body and mind were separate entities, no?

“I believe it does.” Ciel answered, dusting off his knees. He righted himself after you, having helped you arrange the flowers. You were clear that the flowers were a project you were set on seeing through with your own two hands, and apparently, that resonated with the Earl. Enough for him to accompany you and even help. You vowed that you would visit these graves as often as you needed to keep the flowers fresh. 

Remembrance was the least you could do, given that you hardly remembered most of the ballerinas in life.

Stepping back to admire the full picture of your work, you lit a cigar. You always kept a small humidor box in your deep coat pocket, along with a small knife to cut the cap and cedar spills to light it.

“My aunt adored the color red,” Ciel recalled, nostalgia softening his stoic face. “Sebastian and I filled the church with red rose petals, and I brought her favorite scarlet gown—she would have thought that white gown they had her in the most plain thing she’d ever seen. I believe she rested easier, knowing that she was being honored.”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, looking up from your igniting cigar to properly look at Ciel. He’d gone through those extra lengths just to make his aunt’s soul feel better at rest, despite never being able to know if the efforts made a difference. And yet, he liked to act like the most selfish man to walk the Earth. But he wasn’t. Far from it. Instead, he pulled at your heart and tugged at your stomach. “She must have enjoyed that. I’m sorry to hear you lost her.”

“I believe she did,” Ciel said, addressing your apology with a miniscule smile. It was barely there, no more evident than the corners of his lips pulling upward. He watched you take a long drag of your cigar in slow, deliberate puffs, as always. “And I think these women know that you brought their killer to justice, above all. Surely that matters a great deal to them.”

Watching smoke from your lips dissipate into the atmosphere, you chuckled sadly. You shook your head, rejecting the notion that you brought Natasha to justice. “You would have caught onto her sooner without me—you mistrusted Natasha from the start. You warned me last week, and I’m confident she tried to poison me that night.”

“She did a masterful job of framing her husband. I would have arrested him regardless, and I wouldn’t have access to investigating either of them without you. I’ve told you once, I shall repeat it a thousand times, if I have to: you were instrumental to our investigation,” Ciel took a short pull from your cigar. The days where he would admonish you for the habit felt like decades past.

Our investigation. You could have sworn your traitorous heart skipped a beat. Your palms felt clammy. After you confronted Natasha and her subsequent arrest last week, you and Ciel had been, for the most part, cautious around one another. The two of you were unsure of the boundaries that mutual forgiveness meant without a proper conversation. There simply hadn’t been any time, given the legal chaos that erupted between convicting a wife and husband for separate, yet related, crimes.

“A thousand times, you say? I may have to consider that request,” you said, smiling to denote your joke. Your cheeks felt traitorously warm, your smile unfortunately bashful. The Earl did this to you without trying.

Because you still loved him. The first man to notice anything about you beyond your looks and your dancing. The first man to care for your wellbeing, and take the time to unlearn the bitter beliefs that his class instilled into him. He fought for you, even when you had demanded he didn’t. But that didn’t mean he didn’t reject you the morning after you gave yourself to him. It certainly didn’t erase the fact that he’d danced with another woman in front of you. 

The misunderstanding between you may as well have been a chasm at the time. But now, you were each gradually bridging that gap in equal strides. 

Was that fair? You supposed not— Ciel was made to dance with another woman, just as fiercely as her duchess bullied her way into afternoon tea with him. And she had lied to you. Ironically, given the way she’d considered you vulgar. Was it not vulgar to lie in British polite society? Or was it only acceptable because she was lying to a commoner? 

“So long as you don’t overdo it, I shall oblige,” the Earl relented, meeting your eyes in the longest bout of eye contact you shared in two weeks. You almost forgot the sheer depths of sea Ciel’s eye held, and the intelligence those sapphire leagues captured. Mesmerizing—it was a shame that the fire damaged his other eye so severely. He, like you, was alone. Save for his staff. 

You accepted your cigar back, enjoying the taste of it on your tongue, the heat in your lungs a burning constant. You closed your eyes for a moment, appreciating the crisp air. Less than a month away from winter, you relished in this weather. Chilly, but not freezing. The best weather for a cigar. 

“I…” you started, your face red. “Thank you, Ciel,” you said, a touch more earnestly than you had meant to. But honesty was the only way to move forward, you felt. 

“Ballet…the aesthetic differs from all other professions. We have to hide all of our pain and discomfort behind a smile— make an illusion for our audiences.” There was no retreating, now that you’ve started. Ciel had already seen behind your facade—there was no meaning in reinforcing capitulated defenses. “Growing up in it from a young age, I suppose… I started to hide too much. I stopped trying to be close with others, and I-I thought you didn’t care for me anymore…” you admitted. 

You thought about the way all of your ballet instructors reminded you to maintain a pleasant face during rehearsals and performances, even though all of the contortions were unnatural to the human body. The best ballerina in the world was worthless if she couldn’t shroud her pain behind her character.

No matter how you felt, you had to maintain a pleasant face for the audience, the ballet patrons that paid your school (and later, the Opera House) for the right to your body. All to allow you to make a salary that kept you just above the poverty line. You had never dropped your pleasant face until you realized how false it was, the product of habit and sheer necessity. Everything had to appear effortless, even when it was excruciating. That was the industry.

You couldn’t help but chuckle; not even two weeks ago, you would’ve defended these sacrifices.

“I can see that now,” Ciel admitted, taking a guilty pull from your cigar. You both watched the smoke escape into the atmosphere. The light of dusk made the sky look pink. “I must have been a classist fool to assume that all aspects of this profession happened at dancer’s volition.” 

“You were certainly a classist fool,” you affirmed with a playful smile. After taking a final hit from the cigar, you extinguished it beneath your boot heel. 

“I am aware, thank you,” Ciel answered pointedly, making the corners of your lips form a smile. 

“Though unfortunately, most everyone still thinks that way,” he took your hand in his. The Earl ran his thumb over the top of your hand. You both wore gloves now, a measure against the cold especially now that autumn was in full swing with winter just on the horizon. 

You hummed in response, knowing fully well the social abuse you’d take for having Ciel at your side. For daring to love a man this privileged society deemed above your stature. Gwen, that miserable woman, was only the beginning. But you were no stranger to critique—nothing could possibly sting as much as some of the commentary you’ve suffered in ballet school and in your professional career. You were strong.

“But it is not a tradition I will allow to continue,” Ciel said resolutely, meeting your eyes again. “I brought accounts of the prostitution and power imbalances to Her Majesty, and she has decided to purchase the Opera House. She will also be instituting a series of Theatre Company Reform Acts to ensure it ends here—Swan Laws, they want to refer to them.”

The meaning wasn’t lost on you. 

You didn’t know how to start thanking him. Instead, you threw your arms around him, your gloves curling into his thick coat. Hot tears slid down your cheeks, they had been slightly chilled from the soft wind, the cold chapping your lips somewhat as well. 

“I do not know where to begin,” you mumbled, settling into the way the Earl’s stiff posture relaxed to accommodate you. His coat was soft against your cheek, his arms came around your back to embrace you. You let your eyes flutter closed for a moment, appreciating the safety and strength he offered you. 

Ciel held you close, his hand rubbing your back languidly as you sniffled, your appreciative tears  rolled down your cheeks. “I will always be endlessly fascinated and enamored by you. It would be a privilege if you could reconsider being with me, after the confusion I caused you. I… tend to push the wrong people away. But you? I never could have asked for a better partner for this investigation, and otherwise.”

A new warmth spread in your cheeks. Your heartbeat thumped with hope, light from Ciel’s confession. How could you reject that? He saved you. He listened to you. He seemed sure.

You wiped away any tears left on your face. Words were never a strength of yours, you had always thought. 

“Ciel, I want to be with you,” you declared confidently, your smile glowing as you looked up at the Earl’s thoughtful expression. The worry he tried to hide from you. Your eyes fluttered closed again as you kissed him, his familiar lips immediately responding to yours. A gentle hand held the left side of your jaw, lightly brushing strands of your hair out of your face.  

“That is an honor I do not and will never take lightly again,” Ciel promised, his pensive gaze inspecting your face. He was the most exacting perfectionist you’d ever met; you could never decide what he was thinking when he regarded you so closely. 

“I’m not sure you could if you tried,” you affirmed, a shiver running down your back. The wind picked up, causing the trees around you to rustle and whisper. 

“I’ll have Sebastian bring the carriage around. It’s getting rather dark out here, now,” Ciel mumbled against your lips, pressing on one more innocent kiss before he retreated, keeping your hand in his as he guided you out of the cemetery. 

December 13, 1895

The Royal Opera House 

From your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra begin to play The Nutcracker’s overture, a jovial melody on strings. The chatter of the live audience was palpable through the thin walls, you could hear the theatre fill with attendees. The run of this show was delayed an extra two weeks as your company appointed new interim leadership to run the performances—- she was one of the ballet teachers who worked under the Woods. She used to teach the classes for the newest ballerinas, the most patient of the staff.

Without the previous director and the short hiatus between the end of Swan Lake and this premiere, the entire company was revitalized. You could hear it in the music. You could see it in everyone’s faces. Rehearsal the past week was magnetic: you were all ready for this evening. 

You beamed at yourself in your vanity mirror, enamored with your matching pink corset and tutu combination. Humming the intense melody of the Act II pas de deux with the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier, you started to pin your tiara to the top of your head, careful not to ruin your sleek bun. You were made of pure anticipation and energy, a sense of certainty that you had never known in your life. Once you secured the accessory, you dabbled extra lip rouge and blush to your face in hope. Stage lights always washed out performers’ complexions. 

“You look brilliant,” Ciel told you, rising from the loveseat to the side of your vanity. He closed his copy of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King and left it on the small table to the side of the chair. The ballet adaptation of the story was fairly recent in comparison, having premiered three years ago in St. Petersburg. Your production was one of the first to happen in England. Despite having significant plotting differences from the novella, the Earl insisted on reading the source material prior to watching your opening performance. 

“How do you feel? Will you be alright if I join the rest?” he asked you, understanding that the overture signaled the audience to find their seats. 

You couldn’t have smiled more, your wide, childish grin was unbreakable. For the first time, it was starting to strain your cheeks. You had everything and more than you could’ve possibly asked for: the greatest love you’d ever felt, your stomach was full, your costume sparkled. All of this on the heels of a short performance hiatus that left you more rested than ever, each day supplemented with dance class and rehearsal to keep your body in shape during the break. You’d never had so much strength going into a performance. Ever. 

“I am indestructible, Ciel,” you answered, rolling onto the platforms of your pointe shoes for added height. Kissing the Earl left his lips a bright shade of pink, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I shall take my leave for the time being then, mon trésor,” Ciel said, employing that endearing name you loved so much. His treasure. “If you might need me, you know where to look. And I will meet you back here afterwards.” 

Ciel made a sizable donation to the theater to ensure that the box on to the right of the stage was exclusive to him. Although Her Majesty took ownership of the property, she could not dedicate state funding without the Parliament; the Opera House would have needed to function without two week’s worth of performance revenue, had Ciel not intervened. He’d been watching from the box during your final dress rehearsal yesterday, and watching you rehearse your arrangements hours earlier. When Ciel could steal time away from his executive work for his company, he managed to immerse himself in your career, playing the piano when you rehearsed at home, and now, publicly supporting your debut as The Sugar Plum Fairy. 

“Thank you. Watch closely—I will be dancing for you,” you sent the Earl a playful wink as he left your dressing room. He left a parting kiss on your knuckles so as not to ruin your makeup. 

While you were heavily featured in most of the scenes of Swan Lake, now your appearance as Sugar Plum was concentrated into short, intense scenes back to back in the second act. That made your stamina all the more important as you needed to be regal and in control, detail-oriented with almost no breaks. 

That required every ounce of strength in your lower legs particularly, but you were prepared, when it came time. You were strong and fortified, learning to accept that as your vehicle, your body was beholden to better care. This full grand pas de deux consisted of a duet between you and Antoine, who played the Sugar Plum Fairy’s Cavalier—her romantic interest, followed by the Cavalier’s solo variation, your solo variation after, and finally, you both danced together again in the coda, or the finale. 

You were all but a firecracker. Knowing you had someone in the audience who mattered to you, feeling your body sufficiently rested and fed, were frankly magical sensations. For the past two weeks, Sebastian had you on an incredibly balanced food regiment— he suggested you eliminate the word diet from your vocabulary in a broader effort to reframe your thoughts around food— and you prioritized a full night of rest. The butler even had you dipping your feet in iced water after long rehearsals to reduce swelling and inflammation. You had no idea. 

Hard work was not equivalent to dragging your body through abuse each day and night. Skipping meals and sleep did not make you a better prima ballerina—it only made you vulnerable to injury.

In fact, with all of this care reinforcing your natural talent, you could have fought an army. You had already proven yourself a valiant soldier, maybe even more than you were a perfect heroine. You embodied many roles rather well. 

Now, your characters danced for Clara’s honor in Act II, signifying their gratefulness for her and the Nutcracker’s victory against the Mouse King in Act I’s battle scene. This grand pas came at the end of the celebration after numerous ensemble characters— Arabian princesses, Russian Cossacks, Spanish chocolate, as well as Dewdrop and her Flowers. 

You were serene yet playful, encapsulating the magnanimous fairy. You were one with both your partner and the music, the perfect unit. The Sugar Plum Fairy knew who she was quite well, independent of her Cavalier. Still, they moved together, perfectly in tune as the music built to its climax. You stopped on the exact same stage marks, your arms reached into the same space, even your legs mirrored one another. The Sugar Plum’s Cavalier lifted her confidently—there was no hesitation in the escort’s hold— he never once dropped her.

Even as he lifted his significant other atop his shoulder, Cavalier was unwavering. This strength was the physical manifestation of his love for his dear fairy: supporting her, reliably catching her in one of your favorite moments of the show. Running from stage right, you leapt into Antoine’s grip in the center of the stage. Your fingertips nearly touched above your head in the standard fifth position. 

At your high perch, you could only think to peer at the box where you knew the love of your life was watching you. While you couldn’t see any distinctive faces from the stage, all you cared to know was that Ciel was there. For you. 

You’d never been in such a partnership before, the object of someone’s genuine care and interest. Sure, you’d been a plaything, a temporary trophy to trifle with and discard when your novelty subsided. But no one had ever deemed you a treasure. Someone always worthy of an apology, protection, someone worthy of love—the sacrifice and hard work that came with it. All that value seemed to be hidden away, like precious gems. 

Catching you by the waist, Antoine tilted the upper half of your body towards the floor for a moment. Moving quickly to maintain momentum, he used the leverage to face the audience and place you back steadily on the platforms of your pointe shoes. You danced in tandem with one another, flawlessly showcasing the secure love between your characters: the adoring way the Cavalier cared for the Sugar Plum, and her own adoring trust in him as she jumped into his arms once again. He lifted her high, and she held him close. 

The Earl supported you, and you trusted him implicitly. 

On your pointe shoes, you let yourself tip backwards, knowing Antoine would catch you with the same certainty Ciel would kick down a door. For you. The Cavalier caught Sugar Plum by her waist and her extended leg, lifting slightly only to resettle her at his side. The characters were a couple in love. 

At the end of your second premiere as prima ballerina, you didn’t linger to further absorb the applause in front of you. Instead, you hurried back to your dressing room because you knew the most important person was waiting for you behind the curtains.

Epilogue 

“Ciel!” Your Earl had been awaiting you in the backstage wings, paces away from where you exited the stage. He’d opted to wear a black evening suit for this occasion, the raven suit making his deep hair and ultramarine eye all the more conspicuous. Much like the night you met him, it was a number composed entirely of neutral shades. Apparently, a tailored suit on the man came as natural as leotards and restrictive pointe shoes came to you. 

With the same intensity as the Sugar Plum Fairy had, you bounded towards your lover and held him close to you, in spite of the heat your body carried and the sweat that slicked your skin. You couldn’t help but snap to his side like an opposing magnet, your face burying into the side of his neck when you lifted yourself en pointe. He caught you just as Sugar Plum's Cavalier would have.

“You put on quite a show,” Ciel told you, pride palpable in his warm tone. “That was masterful. You always are.” An arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand flat against your bare back. His leather glove felt cold against your skin, a welcome change from the blazing stage lights. You swore that one day, they would cause you sunburn.

You were exhausted. Your heart pounded, droplets of sweat fell down your neck tracing the side of your spine. Your breaths came in hard bursts, your lungs working to their limit. The muscles in your legs and feet were molton. But you smiled in spite of this pain, and not out of necessity for once. It was because of the sheer love you had for this man.  Your heart beat for him—the slightest quirk of his lips as he watched you, the unsuppressed chuckle in his chest from your question.

“No flowers for me?” You smarted playfully, pulling away before you could damage your costume from the embrace. Not to mention, you weren’t anxious to allow the rest of the company free access to your private relationship with Ciel. You knew that The Queen’s Guard Dog had an infinite supply of enemies and British society had countless newspapers cautiously watching you. They were waiting for you to fail, but you would never give them the satisfaction. 

“I like to think I have something a little better in store for you than flowers,” your Earl’s arm remained around your waist, helping support your worn body between the bustling backstage to your dressing room. The moment the door locked behind the both of you, asked Ciel to unclip your corset, overwhelmed with the need to get out of your suffocating costume. As much as you adored its shining accents and the pink, it grew burdensome after expending every last bit of your energy. 

“What for? I mean, what could be better than flowers?” you quirked an eyebrow, your smile lopsided. Ciel never failed to bring you a bouquet, even when your courtship had been a ruse. You adored them every time, the least materialistic person.

You hurriedly unlaced your pointe shoes, stepped out of your tutu and stockings, and clipped on a simple navy blue gown.

“I suppose, they will just wither and die, eventually. I want to commemorate this night perhaps more…intentionally,” he explained as he hooked your costume onto a hanger. 

This night? More intentionally?

“Of course,” you turned towards your vanity mirror, wiping at your face with cold cream. The next day was December 14, after all. His birthday. Could that be what he was mentioning?  While you knew a share of the trauma he felt from that day—-losing his family in the fire— you also hoped to give Ciel some lingering sense of celebration with a waiting wine bottle you purchased for the makings of a relaxed night in. You’d been rehearsing a short self-choreographed piece for him, knowing his adoration for your dancing, and his lack of interest in making a spectacle out of his day.

There was a short silence that followed as you finished cleaning off your face. You were checking your reflection for any leftover face makeup when Ciel spoke again. You watched him approach you from the mirror, turning to face him properly as he stopped at your side. Still sitting in your vanity chair, you looked up at him, a curious smile on your face as you analyzed his serious expression.

“As you recall, I first met you here,” Ciel started, his hand toying with something square in his jacket pocket. “So, each time I’ve thought about how I wanted to approach this, I couldn’t imagine being somewhere else. This was the only right way.”

You snickered, thinking back to the best aspects of that night—an evening you never thought you’d come to look back at with fond nostalgia. That night, you would have told anyone who asked that you disliked Ciel Phantomhive. You thought he was classist and misogynistic, cold. Condescending. You never would have thought he would come to be the most intelligent, thoughtful, empathetic, and determined person you’d ever get to know. Loving not outright, but in his own way: re-considering his belief system, playing the piano, constructing a dance studio on his estate. For you. 

“You wore some red gown. I thought…you were breathtaking. I had to ask you to put on more clothes in order to let myself focus,” Ciel admitted, his face flushing to the tips of his ears from the admission. 

“To let yourself focus? I thought it was because–” you started to assert that he told you to cover up because he was a noble clinging to traditionalism, but your Earl interrupted you with a lovingly stern expression, fixating his gaze on you. He titled his head to suggest mild exasperation with your never-ending need to chime in.

You obeyed, silencing yourself with another dazzling grin at Ciel. As he…sank down on one knee in front of you and retrieved a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a ring.

“Veux-tu m'épouser?” Ciel asked. You blinked, swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat. Tears immediately formed in your eyes, causing you to blink rapidly to keep them from blurring your vision. 

Because that meant…

Will you marry me?

You felt as if someone knocked the wind out of you. A scarlet blush spread across your face with the intensity of a wildfire. Goosebumps littered your arms, despite your gown’s sleeves. He wanted to marry you. He truly wanted you as his Countess. He was legitimizing your claim to his heart with this ring. To all.

“I couldn’t imagine my life without you, Y/n. You have broadened my worldview in so many ways. I never dreamed myself capable of accepting love from anyone, much less someone as breathtaking as you. You shine both on a stage and off, challenging me to better myself each day, inspiring me with your passion for ballet and that stunning intellect of yours. I would be incredibly fortunate to be enlightened by you each and every day, for as long as I may live. If you would do me the honor,” Ciel said. He always held such a noticeable degree of reverence for you, regarding you as some precious being.

“Absolutely, I will,” you beamed as Ciel held your hand, gently siding the engagement down your ring finger. The band was gold, its diamond cut into a square. Two smaller diamonds sat on either side of the largest diamond. Still on his knees, Ciel was still tall enough for you to kiss by leaning down to meet his face. 

Lingering close to your Earl’s face, your smile grew sly. You blinked guilelessly. “Though are you certain you do not wish to discuss how we will allow our courtship to slowly burn out over the next month to avoid public suspicion? Would that suffice? That would allow you to resume your real search for a—”

He didn’t even let you finish your sentence, pulling you back in for another intense kiss. 

“There will never be a need for that. I put an end to that search ages ago, for all intents and purposes,” he admonished you with no real weight to his words. 

Before you could verbalize your next quip, your new fiancé interrupted you once more. “Yes, I am certain. Y/n… you are all I could possibly want,” his hand was gentle as it cupped the side of your face. His thumb caressed your jawline, a touch that was barely there against your electrified skin. 

“I cannot wait to see what our life looks like, together, my Lord,” you kissed Ciel, taking his hands in yours. As you rose from your seat, you guided Ciel to stand properly on his feet, clinging to him the moment he righted himself.

“That’s Ciel, to you, mon trésor.”

You welcomed your incoming new role, the future Countess of Phantomhive, with your widest possible port de bras.

Acknowledgements: 

First thing’s first, I want to thank you. Thank you so much for reading and interacting in any capacity with me!! I appreciate every second you put into checking out my writing, and I hope it really touched you! This story is meant to show copious amounts of growth in a person and the importance of empathy and compassion. I’ve loved Ciel since middle school and I like to think this love has matured with me, lol! 

This is also my first mystery storyline!! I put so much thought into every detail, and I don’t think I could have gotten to this point without you all being here and so so so supportive and patient at every turn. 

Thank you especially to my amazing friends here on Tumblr, @mylostleftfootsock and @earls-wife, and my amazing best friend IRL @readfreak03. (She literally made a Tumblr account to read my updates, I'm crying). Thank you all so much for being so inspiring and supportive of me—especially for hearing me and my chaotic ideas out. Without your endless support for both my writing (and my personal life endeavors) and your detailed feedback and ideas, there wouldn’t have been this. 

I want to thank everyone who reaches out to me in comments, asks, dms, mentions, and reblogs, everyone on my tag list, and all of my amazing anons. 

I want to shout out @katherine101, @endlesslovesick, @suniika, @goby10, @lavendervogh, @eunisyia, @luckyladylottie, @soleil-lei, @lottiehasadvice, and my lovely Random & Sweet anons: I always, always look forward to reading what you have to say!! It’s so much fun to chat, and your feedback is so amazing. I really do appreciate each comment you leave for me! You’re all so kind, it’s endlessly motivating for me. I read every single comment, ask, and reblog multiple times. 

I genuinely had so much fun writing this fic. I’ve wanted to write a ballerina!reader x Ciel for so long—probably since I was in the middle of writing The Indignant Pawn. I was developing this story as I was writing! Ever since I stumbled on a History.com article about prostitution in vintage ballet, I was hooked. I knew I needed a fire-brand reader experiencing this in real time, and a Black Butler-level scandal to draw Ciel into the fold. Their polar-opposite personalities essentially wrote themselves. Their natural chemistry, the arguments, the sweeter moments just flowed. 

To make this story as accurate as I could, I read countless interviews with real prima ballerinas regarding their interpretations of their characters—their hardships, their advice, their day-to-day lives. I watched so many TikToks (special thanks to @/lifeof.lori!) and tutorial videos, too. I really came into this knowing nothing about ballet besides having an excited curiosity, and now I can confidently say that I understand it a whole lot better and I definitely have a newfound respect for real ballerinas. What they do is incredible. 

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. I can’t believe this is my second complete fic ever! I’m so excited to show you what I have in the works. When I finished The Indignant Pawn, I gave you a hint about this story, my next full body of work, because I was a little mean with the way I ended my first story. Literally it was the tallest of cliffs I could leave you hanging from. This time, I was nice, so I think I’ll leave you guessing :)

Stay Tuned,

Dannnn

[jinisnuggets]

༊*·˚ 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖗 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖉

INCLUDES | Ciel, Sebastian, Grell, Undertaker, Alois, Vincent,

READER | Gn

GENRE | Fluff, Headcanons

WARNINGS | Mention of the word seductive in a non suggestive way

WORD COUNT | 0.3k (50ish per character)

A/N | Is there any other character from Black Butler who'd you like me to add to these headcanons? Please let me know :D

🪻 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌

Sebastian

He's the loving type and there's nothing you can do to convince me otherwise. Despite being a demon, he'll make sure you're his queen and he's only ever doing what you ask of him. Of course, due to his personality, he'd absolutely love to tease you, but it's more of a love language for him.

Undertaker

His way of showing affection is far more seductive; teasing you often with heart-fluttering jokes and close proximity. He knows the best ways to edge you on and it's really what he wants, however when you do the same he'd tend to get more intimate (in a fluffy way).

Vincent

This man knows he's attractive and what's the least he can do than shower his S/O with gifts and love. He knows his partner's interests and likes, so it's quite simple to pick out good and high quality gifts, and although it isn't common, he doesn't mind physical affection such as hugs or kisses.

🪻 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖉

Ciel

What more can you expect from our tsundere king. Ciel isn't the best at expressing his emotions and because of it, it often causes him to come off as cold to his S/O.. however, he is an easily flustered boy, who will definitely become flushed in blush if his partner is just one step too close. He will often buy his partner gifts though.

Alois

He's been through a lot, so he doesn't enjoy the company of someone more than that of his S/O. Now, Alois is a great lover, fight the wall; but he's also quite clingy, and that is mainly because of his fear to lose yet another important person to him, so he'd often have nightmares where he'd need to cuddle up in between your arms.

🪻 𝕭𝖔𝖙𝖍

Grell

There's no need to say, they'd shower you with complements and absolutely die when you do the same. Their affection has no limit and they're willing to sacrifice absolutely anything for you, and of course, they love it when you show the same level of care and sincerity for them.

[sjsm751]

Sebastian: The view is quite nice.

Ciel: You haven't taken your eyes off me once (or blinked for that matter!)

Sebastian responding with an infuriating heartfelt smile: Young Master...

Ciel, whose face is "just red from anger" and nothing else: Shut up.

[razbrry]

Grell with a vampire SO?

note 💋— grrrrrr!!!!! i love this prompt. D1 vamp lover over here. -> this is me trying to not go off the rails and make it a smut. my greatest apologies!

when you’re a vampire— ft. grell sutcliff

apart from this whole honor she has by the ripping grim reaper activities…

you’re her biggest flex!

way to keep the secrecy, grell. greatly appreciated.

she’ll be fawning over you.

grell would push her hair back to leave her neck bare for you to behold, purposefully tilting her head.

she’s soooooo obvious.

but so tempting!

you of course don’t want to hurt her, but that should honestly be the least of your concerns.

have you SEEN grell? she’s freaky.

“ou, and the sun today was so…! dazzling and sunny! oh, right, you’re more of a darkness connoisseur, aren’t you?”

oh, shut up grell. we haven’t seen you in daylight since the stone age.

(stone age=butler duties for angelina)

she teases you about your gargoyle-like tendencies as if she goes out every day out of pure productivity. YOU’RE NOT CUTE.

(that’s the fattest lie ever, shes the cutest.)

more on your nutrition,

both of your supernatural roles fit in surprisingly well!

she’ll lead you around discreetly while she’s over here absolutely ripping.

it *is* a regulation to not tamper with a corpse.

bit you’re not a grim reaper, are you?

free dinner!!!

grell feeds you well. <3

and the whole ‘being invited in’ phenomenon? she’s got you covered.

grell would try to coax the host/property owner to verbally let you in by the most over the top monologue.

“oh?! and you’re going to just let us waltz right in by ourselves like we’re some ordinary mortals?”

the host is all like ‘are you… not?’

one of you has fangs and drips of dark and broody… and the other has sharpened teeth bearing a chainsaw.

we are NOT the same.

so yes, entering royal estates is a royal pain with grell.

ciel is sick of you two.

you and grell are a match made in hell :3 she feels like she’s living a rom-com fantasy with you!

‘ooh, a VAMPIRE, how sexy☆!!’

oh, i can totally hear her say that.

[kywaslost]

hello! may I request for Ciel with him slowly falling for his maid (fem reader + someone who is also a skilled demon) who gives him pure love and attention and is just serving him out of romantic love. Even if reader is sometimes serious at certain times, she's also just like most girly girls who frets about clothes and make ups

Supernatural Love - Ciel Phantomhive

A/N: Hi! Sorry this took so long! I was waiting until I felt like I could write this to the best of my ability. I hope it turned out alright!

Never in his life did Ciel think that he could fall in love with a supernatural being

He lived in denial for the longest time, and if he was honest he wasn’t even aware he had a crush on you until Sebastian brought it up

When Sebastian first started searching for servants for the Phantomhive Manor, he ran into you

He hired you, hesitant at first because you were also a demon, but regardless you were a skilled fighter with supernatural abilities so it wouldn’t hurt to have you around

Of course he told Ciel about you being a demon

The boy didn’t care, as long as you didn’t cause trouble

You were ordered to work alongside Sebastian for a while so he could keep an eye on you, and that meant that you were constantly around Ciel

You had been dragged with the two when they went on missions

Ciel didn’t start falling in love with you until you saved his life, quite literally, one day during a risky mission

Just the way that you cared for him while being so kind and gentle baffled him

Ciel began giving you chores that kept you near him, or at least so he could see you more frequently. 

Sebastian got a kick out of the whole ordeal, especially because he didn’t think Ciel was aware of his obvious crush

The butler didn’t say anything until one night you came rushing into Ciel’s study, two different dresses in hand

You first turned your attention to Sebastian. “Which one? The one I’m wearing, or one of these? I can’t decide.”

Ciel practically glowed at the sight of you as Sebastian replied, “I assure you, Y/N, you will look beautiful in whatever you decide to wear.”

“That’s not what I asked, Sebastian.”

You turn to Ciel with hopeful eyes. “Which one do you think, master?”

He took a moment to look at the dresses, then said, “The blue one. The pink one is too bright for the occasion, and the green one makes you look older.”

You thanked him for his advice and ran off to get ready

“You really are hopeless, aren’t you master?” Sebastian chuckled

And that’s when Ciel realizes he has the biggest crush on you

Later that night at the ball, you’re touching up your makeup for the third time within the hour

“Y/N,” Ciel says softly with a smile. “Your makeup is just fine. You do not need to keep trying to fix what does not need to be fixed.”

He even works up the courage to ask you to dance, and at the end of the night he confesses his love to you

Ciel finally came to terms with his emotions, loving you regardless of your supernatural status