#Clothing Embroidery in London | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sipitdownlikecherrysoup · 3 months ago

Text

i noticed - l.jn # 1

chapter 1. an evening dress to remember. (3.1k)

pairing: regency era gentleman! jeno x dressmaker! reader

blurb: Y/N is a popular dressmaker in regency-era london, and foolishly decides to gatecrash the first ball of the season: a masquerade. even a mask can't stop jeno from noticing that she doesn't belong.

tags: fem & she/her reader, present tense, use of Y/N, reader is paranoid, jeno is incredibly observant, i know nothing about embroidery/tailoring but i try my best, inspired by benedict's story (bridgerton).

Your heart pounds so rapidly in your chest that it feels like it might explode, and you feel terribly sick. You worry that the insane amount of effort you’d put into this dress will be ruined with the amount you've sweat in your anxiety.

Maybe you are making a mistake. No, you definitely are, but it's a little too late to back out now. You are already at the ball. The famed Lee Masquerade Ball. The Lee’s always have the privilege of opening the season with their extravagant masquerade, and it's a favorite among many of the high-society families you now find yourself surrounded with.

You should be having an excellent time yourself, just like the blushing young ladies on the dance floor, and the men happily chatting alongside a tower of sparkling drinks so high that you would definitely send yourself into the cardiac arrest you’re so worried about should you attempt to take a glass for yourself. The only problem is that it's hard to have much fun when you’re worried that someone will discover that you do not belong here.

Should anybody notice that perhaps your posture is incorrect, or your manners aren't quite right, or that you do not know the correct way to formally address many of these guests, or Heaven forbid somebody recognises you as their dressmaker, you will be thrown out of London for good. You’ll lose your home, the flourishing career you have built for yourself, your whole life.

All you had wanted was to experience what a ball was like yourself. The young ladies that frequent your store gush about them all day long. You’ve heard so many tales of the fanciful foods, the most amazing music, and mesmerizing decorations that could make you feel transported to another world. And you know nearly half of the dresses in this very room were hand designed, or even hand tailored by yourself, as well as a decent portion of the gentlemens’ clothing, too. Foolishly, selfishly, you had thought maybe you deserved to attend one of these events after all your hard work. And even if it is as magical as those young ladies made it sound, is it worth all the risk?

This is a mistake.

“If you stare at that tower much longer, you might be able to make it fall with that piercing gaze alone.” A voice shakes you out of your thoughts, making you startle. It’s soft but deep, too, and comes from much closer than you thought anybody was to where you had tried to hide yourself in a far corner of the room.

When you turn to face the owner of the mysterious voice, your breath catches in your throat.

Like yourself, some guests to the masquerade opt for a look that conceals their identity. Some say it's part of the fun. For you, it is a genuine disguise.

Others opt for a simple mask that does little to hide their identity.

The thin and sleek, deep-blue mask adorning Jeno Lee’s face does nothing to disguise him, and the fact that you are speaking to one of the hosts of this prestigious event does nothing to calm your nerves.

You had only seen him once, when he accompanied his mother to the store over a year ago and she insisted he purchase a new pair of silk-white gloves. Startlingly, you realize he is wearing them right now.

It must amuse Jeno, the way you stare at him, slack-jawed and wordless and dumb, if the way he smiles gently at you has anything to say about it.

“Did you want one?” He asks you, politely.

“I Want… One?” Is all you manage to speak brokenly

He blinks at you, a faint smile gracing his lips again. “A drink. From the tower. I can fetch one for you if you wish.”

You spy an opportunity to escape, to send him on his way and dart out of this far-too-big house, to run all the way back to your cozy apartment above the shop and forget this ever happened, so you nod and try your best to match his niceties, “If you would, please, I would be grateful.”

You know something you said was wrong from the way his eyebrows crease ever so slightly but he doesn't call you out on it. He must be too polite.

“Very well.” He turns to approach the drink tower in question before pausing, swiveling on his heels to look at you again, “I apologize. I didn't get your name, Miss…?” He prompts, looking at you expectantly.

Your brain short circuits. You swear you can feel it pouring from your ears as you fumble wildly for a response. Your name— No! Not your name! Any name but your name.

“Miss… Throckbottom!” You squeak out, only to internally wince when your words reach your ears. Somehow, you have mixed up the worst aspects of two of your clients surnames. Lord Throckmorton, and Lady Oakenbottom. Curiously, it sounds a lot like ‘rock bottom’ and that is exactly how you feel right now.

Still, Jeno has that stupid, and yet incredibly endearing, amused but polite smile. His eyes crinkle this time, too, so you know you’ve really humored him. You worry that he will question you, or that he knows but he only happily replies, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Throckbottom.”

The moment he turns away from you, the escape plan begins. Your eyes dart around the room to locate the nearest exit and then you break for it. In your haste, you try to exit a different way than you entered and get utterly lost in a maze of hallways that seem to stretch on forever.

As you race around the corridors, finding several rooms that seem only to be filled with different types of chairs, multiple locked doors, and a large hall that surely rivaled even the finest art galleries with the collection adorning it's walls, you panic about how deep into this mansion you now are. If you are caught so far away from where you should be, you will be all the more suspicious. And what if you are assumed to be a thief?! Forget being banished from London, you would be thrown straight to the execution block!

Looping back around on yourself, you barely have any air left in your burning lungs when you make it back to the ballroom, but you are rewarded with a hopeful glimpse of your way out. You try your best to casually make your way across the entire ballroom, sticking to the far edges and drawing as little attention to yourself as possible. Your heart aches when you pass by a tray of sweets unlike any you had ever seen, but you could not risk stopping to try them. Not when you were so close to getting out.

Finally, you reach the door, but just as you are about to duck and run, a hand catches yours to gently pull you indoors before it lets go. It’s firm and yet much gentler than you would have assumed given that whoever had grabbed you surely wants you arrested or put to death.

“There you are, Miss…”

He snuck up on you again. Just who is Mister Lee that he has the ability to go entirely undetected by your senses!? What kind of training does he have? Does he know that you were running about his house like a headless chicken just minutes ago? Has he been following you undetected the whole time?

Despite your thoughts getting away from you, you muster the strength to turn and face Jeno, planning on at least attempting to defend yourself. You are shocked still by the careful concern written across his face, and dancing in his eyes, entirely unhidden by the flimsy mask he wears. He looks worried, terribly so, about you, you realize. As if he’s aware of the dangerous situation that you have gotten yourself into.

But he can’t be. Not when he says, “Are you unchaperoned, Miss? Surely you should not be. I was surprised when you had vanished.”

Of course. This is the polite gentleman you had been speaking to, after all. He would be worried about the safety and honor of any lady. It doesn't have anything to do with you in particular.

You shake your head quickly, trying your best to lie your way out of this, “No, my mama is somewhere around here. I only wanted some fresh air, but I forgot myself. It would not do well to leave alone, thank you for the reminder.”

You spot the drink in his hand, the one you had requested, or rather the one he had asked you if you wanted. He had been carrying it around dutifully, then.

“Perhaps a drink will cool my nerves, actually.” You add, trying your best to come up with a convincing story, “I apologize for leaving so suddenly. This is my first ball and I am rather nervous.”

Jeno passes you the drink, but you don't miss the inquisitive look in his expression, like once again you’ve said something wrong. This time, he does not ignore your mistake.

“Ah, this is your debut season? You are… somewhat older than the usual debutante, but I can appreciate that it is likely still nerve wracking.”

Shit. You had thought it would be good cover to play the clueless debutante. It would explain your lack of manners, and your nerves, but you were not sixteen, nor seventeen, nor even eighteen, but twenty-three! You’re not sure whether to be upset or not that he can tell your age from behind your mask.

You panic, totally blanking, before digging yourself deeper into the hole of lies, “W-well! You see, my family is not… so… wealthy, at the moment, and we have had to save for my dowry… so…” You give up talking and then down the drink, far too quickly, almost choking on the slight burn of the alcohol. You had not realized it would have strong liquor in it.

Jeno watches you closely, just as he has been the entire time you’ve been speaking to him. Again, he appears endeared, presumably by the way you just threw back your drink, and then he looks as though he has an idea.

“Would you like to share a dance?”

He looks so genuine as he asks you, like maybe he truly does wish to dance with you. You cannot think of a single reason why. Perhaps he is trying to help you appear more desirable, then? He really is kind.

“Yes.”

No. What are you doing? Why did you agree?

You don't have time to think about that because a pleased-looking Jeno is already leading you towards the floor, and somehow he is perfectly timed with the beginning of the next song. A song that you have no idea how to dance to. You don't know how to dance to any song!

Jeno takes one of your hands into his, and then places the other onto your waist. Thankfully, this appears to be a slow dance rather than anything too complicated. You quickly respond by resting your free hand on his shoulder, and then try your best to follow his lead as the dance starts.

It's evident almost immediately that you have no idea what you're doing. You’re staring down at your feet instead of looking at him. Even with such simple steps, you’re treading on his feet and messing up the timing. Your eyes snap up to his face worriedly, but there isn't any judgment. Instead, Jeno simply looks contemplative before he leans closer to ask you a question in a hushed voice, “Have you never danced before?”

Your head is spinning. He’s so close. You’ve never been this close to a man before, not even when tailoring their suit jackets to perfectly fit their arms— and goodness, does Jeno’s jacket fit him well. You are almost mad that you didn't get to tailor it yourself.

It’s almost a relief that Jeno doesn't seem to require an answer to his question, unbothered that you stare dumbly at him once again, because he certainly already knows the answer. The hand resting at the side of your waist shifts, curling around your lower back, and then he pulls you closer still. He smells faintly of cedarwood and orange blossom and it nearly sends you into a frenzy because why is it so good? You think whatever he is doing to your mind, the way he is hypnotizing you, has tricked you into feeling that you are floating.

Until you realize that your feet are not on the ground. Jeno is lifting you, with the strength of only one arm, so that you are just barely hovering from the ground. The skirts of your dress are long enough that they still touch the ground, concealing the fact that Jeno is all but puppeteering you into the perfect dancer.

You must look shocked because Jeno whispers to confirm that you are alright with this before you quickly school your expression back to neutrality and nod.

It's far too fun dancing with him like this, or just being spun around given that it's very little work for your part. It doesn't look like it's any effort for Jeno either, somehow. How crazy is this guy's core strength, anyways? It wasn't too typical for a gentleman to be that strong, because why would they need to be?

There is a subtle mirth dancing in his eyes when he continues prodding at your facade, “It is strange to neglect to teach a debutante to dance when that is the prime tactic for capturing a suitor.”

Call you crazy but you might even think that Jeno is having fun, too. At your expense.

“We could not afford dance lessons.” You grasp onto that same excuse from earlier, hoping he will let it go.

“Ah, then you must have been planning to charm a suitor some other way.” Jeno muses, and he’s still giving you that soft smile that makes you want to just melt, “From what I have seen, you do not seem to be conversationally gifted either, perhaps you have other talents?”

You have half a mind to scowl at him but manage to refrain. It would be too risky to claim being talented in areas you're unable to talk about, especially when you’ve painstakingly learned how curious Jeno is. You know nothing of pianoforte or watercolors, but embroidery you know.

“Needlework.” You say, before remembering to expand on the subject, “It is my greatest passion. I am never prouder of myself than when I am able to create a unique pattern.”

Unfortunately, you find it hard to stop yourself from rambling too much.

“The pattern on my gloves, for example, uses multiple types of stitching to create what looks like drooping wisteria. Mostly the herringbone stitch and the continental knot stand out, hm, but the humble chain stitch should not go unforgotten. It is a classic.”

Jeno appears to look at your gloves with an incredible intensity that almost makes you clam up self-consciously before he begins his praise, “It is fine work. Your modiste could be jealous.”

You tried to hide your nervous laughter behind a smile, feeling warm from his compliments, but dying inside at the ironic image of feeling jealousy towards yourself.

The conversation lulls, but it's a comfortable silence you find yourself in whilst your eyes drift to take in the scenery of the ballroom again.

You catch a glare from a short, pretty-looking lady and immediately you tense up. It's not just her, the woman next to her is glaring too, and you recognise her as one of your customers, wearing a dress you’d finished laboring over just days ago. You quickly scan the room to find that there are hardly any ladies not giving you some form of nasty look, and there are plenty of gentlemen looking your way as well.

But of course the ladies are giving you such evil looks. You are dancing with Mister Lee, arguably the most desirable bachelor in the ton, perhaps only aside from his titled brother, though maybe still preferable based on the way you had seen debutantes fawn over his ‘handsome visage, kind eyes, and kinder still personality’ many a time while taking their measurements. The man that holds the supposed unofficial record for highest number of ladies trying to faint on him at a single event, as rumor has it, was still looking only at you. The Jeno Lee that many mothers had scorned whilst waiting for their daughters to finish trying their new gowns on for the fact that he has yet to announce his intention to marry is ever so close to you. The very Jeno that currently has an arm tightly wrapped around you is renowned for putting off his need to marry because he would much rather spend his time at home than at high society parties, so of course the fact that you are taking up so much of his time makes you the target of every unwed lady from here to… The rest of England!

You feel dizzy from all of the attention, from how you can feel the hundreds of pairs of eyes glued to you.

You need to leave. As soon as this dance is over. As soon as he lets you back onto the ground.

Almost as if you had pleaded hard enough to the Gods, the dance ends just as you will it to. Jeno finally lets you go. He’s wordless, but again there's something questioning in his eyes that you ignore. You offer your best, and yet definitely still shoddy, curtsey to Jeno and immediately hightail it back towards the main door.

You have no idea what possesses you but you turn your head back for one last look, unable to stop yourself, to see that Jeno is standing stock still in the middle of the dance floor, watching you leave. His gaze does not falter, it almost burns into you. He makes no move to follow you this time, in fact, he makes no move at all, much to the confusion of the other attendees that watch him linger alone in the dancefloor even after it has been abandoned by everyone else. He just watches you, and then everybody else does as well. That seems to snap him from his daze, and then he’s walking away from the floor but you don't bother to look long enough to find out where to.

You focus back on your escape, near running now and it isn't long before you are through the door.

You do not stop running, and you do not look back again.

---

author's note:

thank you so much for reading <3. this is the first time i've published on this blog, so i hope it's well-received. i can make a taglist going forward if anybody is interested, and please stay tuned for part 2! i have at least 8 parts planned overall :). thanks very much to cherry for proofreading this for me <33. - soup

#soup writes!#jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno x y/n #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno fic #jeno #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct x reader #lee jeno x reader

65 notes · View notes

ashmouthbooks · 7 months ago

Text

Læg nu smukt din hånd i min by katekane

A6 quarto hardback with homemade bookcloth - first time making it myself! and the title stamped on the front cover with fabric paint. I have never watched a single Far til fire film (not even the modern remakes) but when I stumbled across this on ao3 I couldn’t pass it by. this fic touches on Danish queer history with such heart and warmth and wonderful characters (I should probably watch the films) that it became an instant favourite.

for ikke at tale om at når man har tilbragt tyve plus år i fandom på engelsk og med engelske canons så er det at læse fic på dansk, der har udgangspunkt i dansk kultur og historie, som regn for sjælens ødemarker.

craft talk under the cut.

this is my first time making bookcloth so I want about it the cheapest possible way - fabric square from Søstrene Grene’s craft section backed with tissue paper which was a) the only paper I had that was big enough for the fabric square and b) salvaged from a past gifty delivery. it went ok but after drying some of the tissue separated from the fabric. hashtag yolo etc. I decided to use it anyway, and I think the moisture in the PVA was just enough to reactivate the paste on the paper backing, because the finished case came out beautifully smooth - and soft. I opted not to infill the cloth so it’s open weave cotton and feels as soft as a pillow to the touch.

the endpapers are also from Søstrene Grene, decorative paper 120gsm. The textblock is printed on 90gsm Munken Lynx Smooth Natural White, I wanted a whiter paper than usual as the chapter end notes have colour photos that I wanted to preserve. headbands are sewn on, the core is leather cord and the thread is embroidery thread.

the title is stamped on using rubber stamps from, you guessed it - Søstrene Grene. (they actually have letter stamps with the Scandinavian alphabet characters but the London store only has that particular set in all caps and the lower case set only had the English alphabet. luckily an æ is easily improvised and I have both a steady hand and a fine tip paintbrush for the circle over the å.) the paint is shimmery metallic fabric paint from Lumiere.

#fanbinding #bookbinding #my bindings #far til fire #katekane #læg nu smukt din hånd i min #dansk

109 notes · View notes

beyondthisdarkhouse · 1 year ago

Text

God I feel like the luckiest person in the world sometimes.

My embroidery research led me to this article I mean to write a kind of field notes report on, since it took me months to get my hands on a copy, and it's a really careful and thoughtful examination of how embroiderers thought about and shared new and foreign ideas. It's titled “‘From Scorching Spain and Freezing Muscovy’: English Embroidery and Early Modern Mediterranean Trade,” by Sylvia Houghteling in The Mobility of People and Things in the Early Modern Mediterranean, ed. Elisabeth A. Fraser (London: Routledge, 2020).

It whetted my appetite for more such articles, and Dr Houghteling lists some really cool ones, including:

“Origins in Entanglement: Connections Between English Crewel Embroidery and Indian Chintz” in Cloth that Changed the World: The Coloured Cottons of India, ed. Sarah Fee (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2020).

Cloth that Changed the World was actually an exhibit that ran several years at the Royal Ontario Museum, and it sounds like it was really cool. And this book combines photos of the exhibit with modern scholarship, but it is not available in a digital form and I cannot get so much as a printed off copy of a copy through Interlibrary Loan. It costs $50 and that's the end of it until I have an actual research budget. Still, a girl can lust and gripe about the unattainable.

Then this came in the mail today , invoiced to a friend.

🥹🥹🥹

It's a totally amazing book. I love it so much. God, this stuff.

#costuming

231 notes · View notes

myfairstarlight · 4 months ago

Text

A Perfectly Gallant Plan

AO3 Link.

Length: 2.4k.

Written for @turnaboutballroom with spot art from the talented @cassiferlynnart ♡

Content warnings: none

Leftover sales are now open until September 24th, don't miss out on a project full of talent and love!

Summary:

The plan is quite simple, but effective. Haori wanted to experience a real British ball like she’s read in her favourite books so Kazuma-sama offered to be her official partner at the ball while Susato would have Naruhodo-san as her dancing partner. However, Haori also expressed the desire to dance with Susato, even though it is not conventional and she did not wish to attract people’s attention, especially from the judgemental British crowd, thus Susato thought of a way they could find themselves alone. With an additional surprise to boot.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“It’s an intricate design, Iris truly is a genius,” Susato praises as she spins once to test out the skirts of her dress. The pale pink fabric flows gracefully around her but, unbeknownst to anyone else, Susato wears a pantsuit hidden beneath the frilliness.

“Then could you stop moving so I can properly tighten your bodice?” Kazuma-sama calls, although there’s an endeared smile on his lips.

“I appreciate my ability to breathe, Kazuma-sama.” She sighs even as she obeys and stands still.

“And Barok is awfully uptight about dress codes, unfortunately for everyone,” Kazuma-sama says as he gets to work, lacing the strings of the bodice together to form a bow. She tentatively moves her arms around, smiling at the floral embroidery in her puffed-up sleeves before tracing the delicate lines of the bodice carefully with the tip of her gloved fingers. “Alright, you should be able to easily detach the skirts from behind, but you’ll need help putting them back on.”

“That won’t be an issue… I think.” The most likely scenario is that they will stay until the ball is over and spend the night at the manor, after all. “You'll make sure no one else tries to go to the balcony, right?”

"If anyone needs some air, I'll redirect them to the garden," her brother confirms, a hand held high and another on his chest as if swearing an oath. “But no one ever goes to the balcony during these events, they’re all too busy trying to gain Barok’s favour. It’s all about status and politics, really.”

“What about your favour, then?” Susato teases. He doesn’t dignify her with a reply and reaches forward instead to adjust the floral pins in her hair. Susato closes her eyes at the familiarity of it all, it almost feels like being back in Japan, except the clothes are different, perhaps a bit more restrictive but as elegant nonetheless, and she will experience her first western ball instead of a familiar night outdoors surrounded by pretty lights and lively chatter.

��So, how do I look?” she asks.

Kazuma-sama smiles, offering his hand. She takes it and laughs softly as her brother makes her twirl. “Like you could blow all of London away,” he praises.

She rolls her eyes. “Mm, I only need to impress one person.”

“And you will,” he says as if it’s the simplest truth in the world. And perhaps it is.

Even so, she asks, “Would you mind if we just practise dancing one more time? But I will lead this time.” She just needs to be sure she can comfortably lead the dance with someone taller. Haori isn’t usually that much taller than her, but she will surely be wearing heels and with that she’d be around Kazuma-sama’s height.

Kazuma-sama bows and offers his hand once again, “Well then, shall we?”

“I should be the one offering my hand, shouldn’t I?”

“Do not overthink it,” he replies.

Right. She lightly slaps her cheeks before she steps forward and takes Kazuma-sama’s hand. His other hand lands on her shoulder while she rests hers on his waist. She’s practised before, of course, her father had taught her right before leaving for London again. “Just in case,” he had said, because apparently he and Mr Sholmes had to sneak into ballroom events often during their investigations. Fortunately, in this case, no mystery is to be resolved, it should only be a moment of leisure and celebration. Susato is still unsure exactly how Iris managed to convince Lord van Zieks to organise a ball essentially for them but she will take full advantage of it to make her best friend live out one of her hopelessly romantic dreams.

Nodding to herself, she starts the dance with a confident first step and then counts the beats in her head as she leads her and Kazuma-sama in a simple waltz around the room. As both her father and brother instructed her, a dance is all about trust, in yourself and in your partner. She chances a look up, to see that Kazuma-sama has his eyes closed, leaving her the full reign of both this dance and his faith that she won’t lead them towards a fall. She smiles, quickly looking around and spotting a stool nearby. She expertly leads them closer so she can jump on it so she is able to twirl Kazuma-sama without struggle. She laughs at his bewildered look as his eyes fly open although he quickly recovers.

“Thank you, Kazuma-sama,” she says, bowing her head.

Kazuma-sama laughs softly. “My pleasure, though I don’t feel like I did anything. Ready to blow all of London— I mean, sweep Haori-san off her feet?”

Susato hums, “More than, let’s make my girl’s dream come true!”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Susato does not end up blowing all of London away, in fact, because it turns out that Naruhodo-san, despite the many dances of deductions, is a clumsy ballroom dancer. It is most likely the nerves and the need to appear all proper; his hands are all sweaty even through the gloves they both wear. Susato ends up being the one to lead between them because Naruhodo-san hesitates at each step, eyes always downcast, afraid to step on her feet. It’s a bit of a shame, Susato thinks, he looks quite dapper in the suit he has borrowed from her father — a dark blue suit paired with a white blouse and a light blue waistcoat underneath. He ditched any head cover, however; apparently he still hasn’t recovered from her and Iris making fun of the way he looks with a top hat.

(Susato only feels slightly guilty about it.)

On the other hand, Kazuma-sama is a natural in the ballroom. It makes sense, as Lord van Zieks’ former apprentice, he must have followed the man to countless events such as these. From the corner of her eye, Susato watches as her brother and Haori breeze through the British crowd, outshining absolutely everyone in the room, in her eyes at the very least. They’re quite the contrasting pair; Kazuma, hair slicked-back, wears a dark burgundy suit with gold buttons paired with a lace cape over the shoulders, while Haori wears a pale yellow silky dress that gently hugs her form with purple flower accents, but she insisted on having her obi belt wrapped around the waist.

Susato is quite eager to have her turn.

“The sun is setting,” she says, tearing her eyes away from the pair to focus on Naruhodo-san again. The defence attorney lets out a relieved breath. She rolls her eyes at him as the music comes to an end and she lets him lead them towards a buffet table, not too far from the balcony.

Another song starts and she catches Kazuma-sama’s eyes just as Haori’s back is turned to her. In that split second, Susato raises the glass she grabbed from the table a moment prior. Kazuma-sama nods, looking briefly at Naruhodo-san before focusing back on his dance.

“Here,” Naruhodo-san says, taking a small key out of his breast pocket. “The key to the balcony’s doors, just in case. Me and Kazuma will close the curtains once Haori-san joins you so you don’t have to worry about being seen either.”

“Oh,” is all she manages to say as she takes the key. That wasn’t part of her original plan.

“Kazuma has another key in case something goes wrong though, don’t worry! But I’m sure everything will be fine,” Naruhodo-san continues with a smile. “Now go, Mr Sholmes will make a scene so you can safely sneak away.”

“Mr Sholmes will what—”

As if on cue, she hears a commotion behind her, eliciting several gasps and a very loud groan — Lord van Zieks, surely. She almost turns around to see what it is about but Naruhodo-san nudges her towards the balcony instead. She chuckles to herself as she disappears behind the beige and lavender curtains. As the cool air of London’s autumn hits her skin, her hands expertly detach the skirt from her bodice, before draping the fabric over her shoulders like a cape.

Time to channel her inner Ryutaro.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

When Mr Sholmes suddenly collapses, Haori jumps in fright and the only reason she does not fall or get pushed around when people rush to the detective’s side is because Kazuma-kun expertly leads the both of them to safety, joining Ryunosuke-kun’s side near a buffet table. The defence attorney already has a glass of wine ready for Kazuma-kun to take, and one of lemonade that he hands to Haori.

“Shouldn’t we check on Mr Sholmes as well?” she asks, accepting the drink and immediately downing it. Dancing is tiring after all, she needs to remain hydrated.

“Barok is handling it,” Kazuma-kun replies.

Haori turns around and notices that the crowd has parted enough for her to be able to see Mr Sholmes sprawled on the floor, a hand dramatically draped over his forehead like a fainting lady, with a very annoyed Lord van Zieks standing above him.

“Lord van Zieks looks like he’d rather die,” she says.

“Exactly,” both men concur at the same time.

“To be fair, he always looks like that,” Kazuma-kun adds, lifting his glass up slightly as if cheering to that fact.

Coincidentally, Mr Sholmes suddenly stands up again with flourish. Haori frowns, about to question that as well, until she looks at Ryunosuke-kun again and realises—

“Where’s Susato?”

The two men share a conspiratorial smile before Kazuma-kun points towards the balcony. “She’s waiting for you.”

Haori decides against asking out loud the many questions that suddenly pop into her mind, in between Mr Sholmes’ sudden collapse and subsequent instant recovery and these two’s odd behaviour. She has not been able to talk with her best friend since this ball has started, however, therefore, she will simply head towards the balcony.

“Alright then,” she hands her glass back to Ryunosuke-kun, “I will be right back!”

“I don’t think so,” she hears the defence attorney mutter to himself before Kazuma-kun elbows him on the side. She just chuckles at their antics.

Haori shields her eyes with her right hand when she passes through the curtains. The chilly air of London fights against the warm sunset that greets her as she walks into the balcony. To her surprise, the balcony is decorated as well, vines and flowers slithering their way through the cobbled-stone railguard, looking as radiant as the flowers inside the ballroom. Temporarily distracted from what she had originally intended to do, she walks towards the guardrail, her gloved hand tracing the delicate petals of a lily when she hears someone clear their throat.

Oh, right, Susato!

Haori spins on her feet, already smiling wide to greet her friend only to falter at the sight before her. It is indeed Susato standing there with a sheepish smile on her lips but it is what she is now wearing that strikes Haori. Whereas she previously wore a beautiful ball gown made of shades of pink and ruffles, it is now replaced by a slick purple suit. Her bodice seems to be the same, although Haori could have sworn it was beige in the ballroom. It appears as a dark purple now against the sunset and under the cape Susato wears over her shoulders.

Susato clears her throat once more, offering a gloved hand as she bows.

“May I have this dance, Haori Murasame?”

Haori squeals and takes her hand without hesitation. “I’d be honoured, Susato Mikotoba!”

Relief washes over Susato as their fingers intertwine. Haori smiles, reaching with her free hand to push back a loose strand of hair behind Susato’s ear so she can properly look into those lovely brown eyes. Then, she rests her hand on Susato’s shoulder just as Susato pulls her closer with a hand on her waist.

“Can I say you look rather gallant or are you tired of me saying that yet?” Haori chuckles.

“You really do have a favourite word,” Susato deflects although she’s smiling.

“That I use only for my favourite person,” she replies easily.

Susato blushes ever so slightly and Haori smiles. The music from inside can still be heard, although muffled behind the closed glass doors of the balcony. Haori can only see shadows dancing against the sunset from where she and Susato stand, a vision from a dream.

They start swaying, slowly, nervously. So unlike the Susato she knows, actually.

“Come on, we’re supposed to have fun,” Haori says lightly, bumping their foreheads together. “Stop fretting, you look like Ryunosuke-kun.”

That seems to do the trick because Susato straightens her back with a huff. “I sure hope not! He was sweating through his suit, do I look as nervous as him?”

Haori laughs. “Only teasing you.”

But there’s a fire in Susato’s eyes now, her posture more confident, her smile more carefree. Her touch on Haori’s waist is firmer, warmer and suddenly they’re moving. Susato moves expertly, as she does everything else. Haori smiles as she follows naturally, warmth and love filling her senses. Their feet glide over the balcony to the muffled sound of the music inside, Susato twirling her at every crescendo to the point of Haori’s head spinning as well, but she doesn’t mind, she isn’t afraid, she laughs, even, because Susato’s touch around her is steady and safe.

Then the music goes from lively to slow, and Susato matches the pace. Haori breathes in, not realising how out of breath she had been while Susato doesn’t seem all that tired outside of the healthy flush to her cheeks. The dance becomes slow again, but this time intentionally rather than out of nervousness. Haori leans their foreheads together again.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For this whole evening. A dream come true.”

The twinkle in Susato’s eyes only shines brighter. “Anything for my favourite person.”

The music ends just as the sun sets, letting the moon bathe them in her light, but Haori and Susato keep swaying to the gentle beat of their hearts.

#the great ace attorney #susahao #susahao fic #turnabout ballroom zine #my fics #tgaa fic #dgs fic #dgs spoilers #dai gyakuten saiban

26 notes · View notes

chic-a-gigot · 20 days ago

Text

Beaux-arts des modes (New York, Paris, London, Milano, Wien, Bruxelles), no. 8, décembre 1921. Bibliothèque nationale de France

460 Cape élégante de style espagnol, de drap blanc et velours foncé, ornée de broderie cachemire. Châle de velours terminé par de longues franges de soie grillagées. Haut volant de velours festonnant.

460 Elegant Spanish-style cape, made of white cloth and dark velvet, decorated with cashmere embroidery. Velvet shawl finished with long silk fringes. High scalloped velvet flounce.

#Beaux-arts des modes #20th century #1920s #1921 #publication #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #bibliothèque nationale de france #dress #devant et dos #december color plates #cape

7 notes · View notes

thunder-threnodies · 2 months ago

Note

🦉🎭🐈

A Confession of Whimsy

From time to time, I just sit at the edge of the Flit, feet dangling off the edge, the bottom of a bottle my only company and just watch the Urchins wage war to each other.

And I may or may not have sent some in a mirror just to see what cimes put of it. If you see some children half animal... No you didn't.

A Confession of Impropriety

How one has a their wine can say a lot about an individual. Giorgione for example is quite the bon vivant but never finishes their wine but rather swirl the poor thing so much it must taste horribly while sipping it little by little. I feel bad for the wine though.

A Confession of Curiosity

Even though I do have a seamstress I trust in London, I keep stitching my clothes by hand myself. I find it strangely relaxing and I've even picked up embroidery lately.

#thunder threnodies #fallen london #oc:captain francis dargor #oc: captain dargor #ask game

7 notes · View notes

kasiabobula · 2 years ago

Text

#east london cloth #linens #kitchen counter #sink #kitchen sink #kitchen #interior design #kitchen curtains #embroidery #children drawing #kasia bobula #cressida jamieson

2 notes · View notes

expatesque · 2 months ago

Note

for the sleepover: you have such great taste in clothes imo, any suggestions on where to shop for a dress for my will-be sister in law’s upcoming wedding?

Ooh how fun! Okay well must mention the classic: Reformation, the go to for a reason. My favorite kooky starting point: Wolf & Badger (not sure the time of year of this wedding but how pretty would this be for a winter wedding?). Want to be fun and fabulous? La Double J (with feathers!). Committed to being the coolest person at the wedding? It has to be Tibi (this or this with a slip). Ready to invest in some amazing embroidery? Yulia. Is it time for organza? It might be time for organza (on sale!). Or instead do you want to be the most romantic guest there? Zimmerman. Do you have great legs and want to sparkle the night away? I've got you. Is it time for a bold hue that works across seasons? Tada.

Honestly though, with formal wear I find trying it on in person helps so much, so if you've got the option to go to a department store, do go! For Chicago, the Bloomingdale's dress section is the best. In London, save yourself time and go straight to Harrods.

+ let's have a sleepover

#s shops #sleepovers #also if none of these work send more specifics and i will reshop!

8 notes · View notes

guilty-pleasures21 · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 5 - the opera

Part A

Part B

Part C

Warnings: none.

----------------------------------------------------------

She glanced up from her embroidery when she heard the sound of a carriage pulling into their driveway. She set her cloth aside, tucking the needle carefully into it so it wouldn’t get loose, then she rushed to join the rest of her family at the door.

“Pavitr!” Lord Singh exclaimed, greeting his nephew with a hug when he stepped out of the carriage. “How was your journey?”

The young man flashed his uncle a tired smile.

“Exhausting,” he admitted truthfully, “but I am so grateful that you have given me a place to stay, Mamaji.” The tension between the foreigners and the natives in British-occupied India had been escalating in recent months, so his mother had asked her brother if he would be willing to let her son stay with him for a while. Lord Singh waved away his nephew’s thanks as he led him into their house.

“You are always welcome here, Pavitr,” he reassured him, patting him gently on the back. “Come, have some cha (tea) and take some rest. The servants have already prepared your room and I am sure your cousins will be happy to show you to it.”

“Sat sri akal, Veerji (Greetings, older brother)!” Anjali exclaimed, wrapping Pavitr in a hug as he stepped through the entryway. “It is wonderful to see you again!”

They had not been back to India since they had moved to London eight years ago, but their aunt, uncle and cousin had visited them once before, leaving them with fond memories of their extended family. Pavitr returned Anjali’s hug with a delighted grin.

“You too, Anjali,” he agreed before turning to Rohan next. His eyes widened with surprise when he saw how tall his young cousin had grown. “Hai Raba (Oh my God)! You could probably see all the way to Punjab, Rohan!”

Rohan chuckled and bent over to give Pavitr a brief hug in greeting. “It is good to see you too, Veerji. How are Bhuaji and Fufarji (aunty and uncle)?”

“They are doing well,” Pavitr replied, his bright expression faltering as he thought about his parents back home. “How have you guys been?”

“All right,” Rohan shrugged, taking a step back so X could take her turn to greet their cousin. Then suddenly, he remembered the most exciting piece of news to happen as of late. “Oh! Penji just had her debut the other night. The whole town was practically knocking down our door yesterday morning!”

Pavitr’s eyes lit up with excitement and he turned his attention to X when she pulled away.

“Really?” he asked, eager to find out more. “Anyone catch your eye, Penji?”

X rolled her eyes as her lips twisted up at the ends in amusement.

“It has barely been a week, Pav,” she pointed out calmly. “I have time.”

Except that she didn’t - well, Miguel didn’t have time. X felt her stomach tighten with nerves at the reminder of the façade she’d agreed to put on for his sake. But she didn’t need to burden her cousin with that right now. “But enough about me! We can catch up later. Let us show you to your room!”

Gabe jogged down the steps to the carriage where his brother was already tending to the horses. He looked up and his gaze landed on their neighbour’s house across the road. They’d been to the opera a few times together after X had begged Miguel to bring her along: she didn’t understand Italian, so she’d always sit right by him, right where he could lean over and murmur the translations into her ear. “Miguel, have you-”

But that had been before she’d come of age; before she’d become a viable prospect whom his brother couldn’t seem to take his eyes off anytime she stepped into a room. So perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to bring her along to a darkened theatre where the two of them would be trapped next to one another in intimately close proximity for three hours. Miguel looked up at his brother, waiting for him to finish his sentence and Gabe pursed his lips as he tried to come up with a different question instead. “Uh … Tied your shoe? I … don’t want us to be late …”

He trailed his sentence off into an awkward chuckle and Miguel’s expression turned even more suspicious.

“My shoes are fine …” he replied carefully. “And I think we will make it perfectly on time, brother.” He turned around to get into the carriage and Gabe rushed down the rest of the stairs, desperately trying to stop his brother from seeing X as she walked out of her house. But he was too late.

A comfortable warmth filled his chest when he saw his neighbour. She was clothed in a pale lavender dress that swirled around her ankles as she walked out of her house. He waved at her to try to get her attention, but she was too absorbed by her conversation with her family, her sweet features lit up with delight as she chatted to them excitedly. Miguel turned back to Gabe and gestured across the road. “I will ask X if she would like to join us.”

Gabe flashed his brother an awkward smile, just managing to conceal his defeated sigh: it was going to be a long night.

Pav tugged on the collar of his shirt, allowing himself a little more space to breathe.

“These outfits seem … unnecessarily fancy,” he pointed out, keeping his tone light so no one would take offence at his complaint: they had offered him a safe place to stay, after all, he should be grateful for their generosity. Rohan shrugged as he walked towards their carriage.

“At least they keep the cold out.”

X smiled at the way her brother’s easy manner put their cousin at ease: she’d noticed how careful Pav was with his words, always thinking twice before speaking his mind around them. But she didn’t want him to spend his time with them walking on eggshells and constantly policing himself to make sure he didn’t unintentionally offend anyone: that was the exact reason for which he’d left India, after all.

“Lady X!” She startled as the familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Might you be on your way to the opera?”

X turned to find the owner of the voice and her heart gave a little flutter when she saw Miguel approaching her. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from reciprocating the wide grin on his face, but she did allow herself a polite smile of greeting. “Lord Miguel. We are indeed paying a visit to the opera. And yourself?”

“We are heading there as well,” Miguel revealed, feeling his heart speed up at the thought of accompanying her to the opera. “For the eight o’clock show, I take it?”

X opened her mouth to respond, but was immediately interrupted by her sister.

“Lord Miguel!” Anjali exclaimed, rushing over to join their conversation. “How lovely to see you! Are you off to the opera?”

She leaned to the side, sneaking a glimpse of Miguel’s carriage, then she turned back to him with an expectant look on her face.

“Yes,” Miguel confirmed, amused by Anjali’s inexplicable enthusiasm. “I was just asking X if-”

“Wow!” Pav gasped, scurrying up to the group to take in Miguel’s broad and towering form. “You’re as big as an ox, Sir! I bet you could plough fields all on your own!”

Miguel furrowed his brows at the unfamiliar young man, unsure how to respond to such a comment. “Uh …”

“Oh! Miguel, this is our cousin, Pavitr,” X introduced him. “He has come to visit us from Punjab. He will be staying with us for a while.”

She shot him a meaningful look, silently conveying to him that the matter was a sensitive topic, and Miguel nodded in understanding. “Nice to meet you, Pavitr.”

“And you as well, Sir,” Pavitr replied, shaking Miguel’s outstretched hand enthusiastically. X flashed Miguel an embarrassed look, but he returned it with a warm smile that immediately eased the tension from her body.

“So, will you be joining us at the opera today, Pavitr?” Miguel asked. Pav’s features lit up at the question.

“Oh, yes! I have never been to an opera before! Although I have been told that everything is in Italian.” His brow furrowed with anxiety and Miguel quickly waved his concerns away.

“That is all right. If you don’t mind riding in the carriage with me and my brother, I could explain some of tonight’s story to you on the way over?” he offered. Pavitr turned to X in question, a hesitant expression on his features.

“You are perfectly safe, Pavitr,” Miguel added quickly, instantly understanding the reason behind his unease. “X and I have known each other since we were children. I am sure she trusts me with your safety.”

“Oh! Yes! Of course!” X agreed. She gestured to Miguel’s large and imposing frame, trying to stop her eyes from lingering on the outlines of his muscles pressing against his shirt. “ I mean, you said so yourself: he could probably take down an ox.”

Goodness! Whatever could have possessed her to say something so silly?! She forced out an awkward laugh as she glanced between the two men, then she straightened her features again when neither of them joined in. “But anyway! Let us make haste before we arrive late.”

She nodded at each of them in turn, then rushed into her own carriage. Miguel’s lips curled at the ends as he watched her skitter away and his chest warmed at how cute she was whenever she got embarrassed. She’d started being embarrassed around him a lot lately, if he really thought about it. Though he couldn’t figure out a possible reason for her to-

“Er, shall we go, Sir?” Pav asked, clearing his throat when the silence had stretched on for a little too long.

“Oh! Right, yes.” Miguel forced all thoughts of his neighbour out of his mind and turned around to lead Pav over to his carriage. “But please, ‘Miguel’ is fine.”

“All right, Miguel,” Pav replied, bouncing after him obliviously.

Continue

10 notes · View notes

neverwanttofallasleep · 1 year ago

Text

I Never Want To Fall Asleep - Chapter 3

Word count: 4,519

For pairings, warnings, and disclaimer - see Masterpost

Saturday, December 17th, 2022

London, England

“Freddie, can you hand that empty rack down?”

He passes the clothing rack to you from the back of the truck, before lowering the lift and jumping down himself.

“Thanks!” You call over your shoulder as you begin to wheel the rack toward the loading bay of the venue.

Almost all the gear has been set up now. The crew have been here since 11am, while you got to work from your hotel room. Your trunks of mended, cleaned and ironed outfits are the last thing to be brought in by the roadies.

The backstage area of this venue is much bigger than the last few you’ve been to. Usually, you stow all the trunks in the green room and just unpack what’s needed for each member of the band. Tonight, though, you have the luxury of setting up each trunk in the respective dressing room, with all the selected outfits for this tour available to each boy to choose from. Sam and Josh are sharing one room, Jake and Danny in the other.

The selections they’ve made for this tour are incredible, tailored pieces of black, white and shades of gold, all adorned with sparkly embroidery, rhinestones and sequins. You love seeing them all dressed up together, truly a vision come to life, and you feel so prideful that you’re the one that gets to look after these incredible garments while they’re on the road.

You’d spent your morning meticulously steaming Josh’s sheer, floaty golden robe, among other things, as per his requests. They all usually have a vision for each night, swapping out the pieces to give themselves a fresh yet cohesive look for each city.

Josh is partial to his jumpsuits, he has 13 with him on this tour. They suit his personality so perfectly, heightening that spunk and flair he naturally exudes. Your favourite is his gold velvet one, covered in embroidered white roses.

Sammy wears suits, no shirt underneath, always high-waisted trousers with hip-length jackets, and always with his signature pleated wing under the left arm. This tour he’d been rocking the sword appliqué on all his pieces.

“It’s my new thing!” He’d told you.

Danny has his own style, same-same but different from the rest of the band. Like Josh, he loves the sparkles and capes, but his outfits have to be extra-functional for drumming, so he usually wears a seperate bejewelled top and short cape with his classic, pleated satin pants.

Jake’s outfits are always your favourite. Like Sam, he wears suits, but with tighter trousers and cropped jackets. The silhouette reminds you of a military uniform, like he’s preparing for battle before he takes the stage. You love the many black suits he wears, all similar with unique gold embellishments, but your favourite is his white suit. Unlike his others, this one has lapels, and is covered in incredibly detailed gold archery motifs. When you first saw him in it, you’d felt your heart skip a beat. You’d tried to keep your awe to yourself, not wanting to inflate his ego further, but you had to compliment him. He’d looked phenomenal.

“This one looks the best on you.” You’d tried to sound casual, with a mouth full of sewing pins, as you marked the alterations on his shoulder.

He’d raised an eyebrow at you. “Huh. You think so?”

You nodded.

He hummed. “I’ll have to remember that.”

You’d smiled at that, your cheeks reddening.

He’s yet to wear it for a show, but you imagine he’s saving it up for a special one, perhaps when you return to the States. You always keep all their options available for them, as some people (Josh) like to change their mind a few times before settling on a look.

You eye the white suit as you open up his trunk, beginning to unload their selections for this evening’s show. You consult the list you’ve been emailed, hanging Jake’s rose suit and Danny’s black satin trousers and silver vest onto the rack you brought with you, triple checking for any loose threads.

It’s nearing 5pm, and you know the boys will be done with soundcheck soon. According to your itinerary, doors tonight open at 6.30. You’re keen to have everything set up before they come down, not eager to run into Jake after your strange interaction last night.

Danny and Jake’s bags are already stowed in the corner of the room, with an opened bottle of Jack Daniels on the dressing table. You sigh. The excessive drinking just proves to you that Jake can’t possibly be as unaffected by your situation as he’s putting on.

You’ve been replaying last night in your head all day, unsure what to make of it. He was obviously drunk, you knew that. But after the awful non-interactions you’d had earlier in the day, his desperation for you to stay with him last night was making your head spin. You want to confront him about it, but you decide that now isn’t the time. One last show, and you’ll be heading home tomorrow.

Once you’re satisfied with the set up, you head over to Sam and Josh’s dressing room. As you reach the door at the corner of the hallway, all painted black bricks and fluorescent lighting, you hear footsteps coming from the other direction. You poke your head around, and when you see Danny’s smiling face moving toward you, you step out fully.

“Hey, Y/N!” He gives you a genuine grin. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since we left Manchester! Busy day yesterday?” He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

If anyone can catch onto your mood without you having to say a word, it’s Danny. He can just read people like that.

You return the smile, realising he’s right. You’d been so determined to coop yourself up to avoid Jake, you’d missed out on seeing the rest of your friends.

“Sorry, Dan. I had so much work to do - had to fix your cape! Missed you though. How was your first night in London?”

“Fucking awesome.” He chuckles. “A few of the gang went a bit too hard, too early, though. By 1am it was only Josh, Jules, Meghan and I left.” He shakes his head. “How did Jake manage this morning? He and Sam were the first to bail.”

You give a little smile. “Not sure, I wasn’t with him this morning.”

Danny raises an eyebrow. “Really? Surprised to hear it, if I’m honest. He wouldn’t shut up about you last night. Thought you might’ve finally broken your rule and done the deed.” He smirks.

You chew your lip and shake your head. “No, nothing like that. I saw him when he got in, though, he was in pretty rough shape.” You give him a rueful smile.

Danny is the only member of the band that you’ve really talked to about your friendship with Jake. Although he doesn’t explicitly know of your feelings, you imagine he has an inkling as to why you won’t cross that line.

As Danny’s about to reply, the other three boys emerge from the stairs at the end of the corridor, presumably making their way back from soundcheck.

Jake glances up and sees you, immediately looking back to the floor.

He’s embarrassed.

Well, at least that solidifies your theory that he wouldn’t have said any of it if he was sober.

Sam and Josh greet you enthusiastically, Jake giving a small nod.

You see Danny’s eyes flick between you and Jake.

“How’s the set up going, Y/N?” Josh places his hand on your shoulder. “Need us to do anything?”

You’re thankful for Josh. “Nah, I’m almost done. Jake and Danny’s is all good to go, I’m just heading in here now to unpack your trunks.”

He nods. “Easy. We can stay out of your way. We’ll just go hang out down the hall ‘til you’re ready for us.”

“Thanks, Josh.”

“Come join us for a drink when you’re done?” Sammy chimes in.

You glance at Jake, who’s still staring into space, anywhere but you.

“I’m alright. I’m going to meet Jules out in the gardens, she’s bringing us some dinner.”

Sam looks disappointed. “You gotta come in for a pre-show shot then, both of you. It’s the last night of Europe, can’t have you missin’ out.”

You sigh, glancing to Jake and back to Sam. “I’ll be there. Can’t let you go out on stage without a once over. Gotta check you for boogers.”

Danny and Josh laugh.

Sammy frowns. “I’m proudly booger-free, I’ll have you know.” He retorts.

You grin. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Samuel.”

The four of you giggle, and you notice Jake getting restless.

“Alright, gotta get back to work. See you in a bit!”

You shuffle around Sam and slide into the second dressing room.

“You want the last bite?” Julie waves her pastry at you.

You shake your head. “I’m good. The sandwich filled me up. Thanks, though. Just not a huge appetite today.” You take a swig of your now-cold coffee.

She hums. “I noticed. What’s on your mind, girl?”

You consider for a moment. If you can tell anyone what’s been going on, it’s Jules. She’s your colleague and your friend, and she doesn’t have any loyalty to the band. You feel the need to share what’s been filling your mind these past 48 hours, just to unload some of the stress.

When you look up from tracing circles on the lid of your cup, you find her empathetic eyes assessing you. “Jake and I had a fight.”

“Oh, babe. What the fuck happened?”

You feel your eyes welling already. “That’s the thing. I don’t even really know.”

She sips her coffee. “How did it come about?”

You tell her the story of the other night, explaining your worries about the friendship becoming too close, and your admission. You tell her how he acted yesterday, and even how he was earlier by the dressing rooms. Julie knows why you keep things platonic with Jake, so she gets it.

Once you’ve finished, she just sighs.

“So, you haven’t spoken since Manchester?”

You groan. “I think that was his plan, if I’m honest. But I caught him last night, blackout drunk and struggling to get into his room. He asked for my help, and he just seemed, well, normal.”

“Fuck. And did you? Help him, I mean?” She says through the last bite of her croissant.

“Yeah, I helped him inside and take off his shoes and stuff. Got him some water. He kept asking me to stay with him. Told me I was beautiful.” The tears are coming now.

Jules puts her hand over yours. “Babe, I get it. That would be fucking hard to hear. Especially after what you told him. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that shit.” She frowns. “That boy needs to keep his dick in his pants. He’s been leading you on, even if he doesn’t realise it.”

You hear the truth in her words, but the worst part is, all you can think is how you wish things could go back to how they were before. You’d take him leading you on over this any day.

You choke out a little sob. “I know that. You’re right. I just, I dunno. I just miss him.”

Jules takes both your hands in hers now. “I know you do, babe. And if that fucker has any sense, which I think he does, he’ll get his shit together and apologise.” She sighs. “I can’t tell you where to go from here, because I know it’ll be hard either way. But if you’re really prepared to just have a friendship with him, then I’m sure you guys will work it out. Fuck, he’d be an idiot not to.”

You laugh a little through the tears, throwing your arms around your friend.

“Thank you, Jules. I love you. I’m sorry to drag you into all this, but I’m so glad I have you.”

She laughs. “Don’t worry about me, girl. I fucking live for the drama. And I’ll always be here for you.”

“Right back at you.”

“I love you, too, Y/N. Just take care of yourself. Danny was right, you know. Jake couldn’t stop talking about you last night. Just don’t let him hurt you.”

You pull back and nod, sniffling.

“I’ll try.”

At about 7, after a brief crew meeting, you and Jules head back down to the dressing rooms. It’s time for her to start on Josh’s makeup, and you figure that his dressing room is the safest hiding place for you right now. At least Sam’s constant babbling and Josh’s telling him off will keep you entertained for an hour or so.

Sam mixes you a drink, some tequila and soda from their rider, and sits with you on the couch.

“Where’s Lennon?” You question. You realise you haven’t seen or spoken to her since breakfast this morning.

“She’s watching from GA tonight. Got some friends coming along. They have passes so I’m sure they’ll be back here after the show.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice for her. Anyone you know?”

“Yeah, a friend of hers from school and his partner who’s from here. We met up with them at the pub last night.”

You smile. “Ah, yes. The infamous pub. I hear you didn’t make it past 11, Sammy boy.”

“Neither did Jake!” He says defensively.

You roll your eyes.

He grimaces. “I was still hungover, alright? Plus, I needed my beauty sleep. I don’t get to just slap on some concealer and rhinestones to hide my eye-bags like some of us do.” He gestures to Josh.

Josh chucks a brush at him. “Hey, don’t come at me. It’s my war paint. I need it to focus.”

“It’s alright, brother. Not all the Kiszkas could be blessed with natural beauty. There had to be one dud.”

Josh throws another brush and Jules scolds him.

“Sit still, Josh, or you’ll end up looking worse than you fucking started.”

Sam chuckles.

When she’s done with Josh and given Sammy some shimmer, Julie leaves to go and sort out Danny, and you hang back to fuss over Josh and Sam.

With about 15 minutes till their set starts, Julie, Danny and Jake make it back into Sam and Josh’s dressing room.

When you see Jake, your breath catches.

He’s wearing the white suit, and he looks radiant. Looks like Jules has even talked him into a little eyeliner. You see him peek a glance at you before quickly looking away.

Why tonight, Jake?

Surely he had to know that would mean something to you. Did it mean something to him, too?

Craig and couple of the techs join you all too, including Freddie, and you all stand in a circle while Josh and Sam hand out shots of tequila.

You lean over to Jules and Freddie. “After this tour, I’m never drinking tequila again.”

They giggle. “Fuckin’ amen to that, sister.”

Josh clears his throat, and begins his pre-show toast. “Well, we’ve done it, folks. We’re officially on the last European show of this Dreams In Gold circus. I’d like to thank our fabulous team for working so hard for us these past few months. We know it’s been gruelling, but you’ve all done a stellar job at getting us places on time, making us sound and look beautiful,” he gives you and Julie a wink, “and keeping us from murdering each other. If I don’t see you, I hope you all have a wonderful holidays, may we reunite Stateside in the new year! Bajabule!”

“Bajabule!” You all cheer and toast your shots.

Across the circle, Jake makes eye contact with you, raising his shot glass towards yours.

You give him a meek smile, unsure how to respond.

You turn back to Julie and grin, downing your drink, as you hear a chorus of groans and coughs around you from the burning liquor.

Freddie gets a call through his comms.

“Alright boys, time to hit side stage.”

They all file out of the dressing room. You hang back to tidy up a little, Josh and Sammy having left discarded items of clothing all over the floor and couch. You pick up Sam’s underwear, grimacing as you toss them into the drawer of his trunk.

As you turn to walk out, you see Jake lingering in the doorway, looking at you.

“What are you doing? You’re gonna be late.” You say quietly.

He nods.

He goes to turn, and then stops, his eyes meeting yours again. “Like the suit?”

You sigh. “Yeah, Jake. I do.”

He smiles to himself and makes his way up to the stage.

The set is electric, you can feel the buzz of the crowd from backstage. The boys are really giving it their all for this last show abroad.

You watch most of it, unable to peel your eyes away from Jake in that suit.

Your favourite suit.

And he knew it.

You figure this is his form of an olive branch, but you mentally curse him for not choosing a less romantic gesture. It was sweet of him to think of you in that way, knowing that this was your passion, and this would be the most meaningful way he could show you he cared. You just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.

He was always gorgeous, but this suit… it just made him angelic. You had a hard time keeping your eyes off him on your best day, but tonight, he was magnetic.

After shedding a tear during ‘Broken Bells’, Jules gripping your hand, you decide now is as good a time as any to start the pack up. If you weren’t waiting for them side stage, you hoped the boys and crew would just bring their stuff back to the dressing rooms. You just couldn’t be there right now. You didn’t want to see him when he stepped off stage, glistening with sweat and radiating with adrenaline. It would be too much. It was already too much.

Julie follows you, and you both solemnly keep to your devices as you rehang Jake’s rose suit into his trunk, quietly cursing him again. Julie packs up the pieces of her kit she’s left in each room, wiping her brushes, and leaving some makeup wipes by the mirrors for the boys when they return. You fold their street clothes and leave them in neat piles in their trunks, trying to be as prepared as possible. Julie helps you disassemble the now-empty racks, ready to be stowed back on the truck.

When you’re both happy with the state of the rooms, you steal two beers from Josh and Sam’s rider and head out to the loading dock for a cigarette, waiting for the chaos to ensue.

Pack down goes fast enough and pretty smoothly. You manage to successfully avoid Jake, finding his suit already hung up in his trunk and his street clothes gone when you to go close them up. Every time you and Jules cross paths, she gives you a sweet look or squeezes your arm gently. You’re so grateful for your friend, and so glad you confided in her. You’d thought about talking to Lennon, but really, you aren’t that close. Plus, she’s Sammy’s girlfriend, so you really don’t know where she’d stand. You make a mental note to text her later, as you haven’t seen her during the chaos. You figure she’s with the band, celebrating somewhere.

After everything is securely back on the truck and you’ve reported your checklist to Craig, you board the mini-bus, ready to head to your hotel room and crash. Jules sits beside you and rests her head on your shoulder. Truthfully, you’re beat. It’s been an exhausting few days, both mentally and physically. You’re grateful for the late start tomorrow, your flight out of Heathrow not until 3pm. You plan to sleep until the last possible minute.

When you finally get back to your room, you strip off your coat, crew shirt and black pants, tossing them in a pile in the corner for you to deal with tomorrow. You’re too exhausted to think about having a shower, and you mentally thank yourself for choosing not to wear makeup on show nights. You throw on a sleep shirt, braid your hair, brush your teeth as thoroughly as you can manage, and flick off the lights, eagerly anticipating the warm bed.

Once you’re bundled up under the covers, you shoot Lennon a message, wishing her a good night, letting her know you’ll catch up with her at some point tomorrow before you leave. You recall Sam mentioning they were staying in London for a few extra days, so you’d have to find her for a coffee before you head to the airport.

You’re elated about not having to set an alarm. You put some music on and switch off the lamp, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

You’re awoken by your phone ringing. You have no idea what time it is, but it’s definitely still dark outside. You’d put your phone on do not disturb, so it must be one of your emergency contacts. You groan and roll over, fishing by the pillow for your cell. When you finally locate it, you squint at the bright light, seeing Jake’s name flashing on the screen. 3.26am. You answer.

“Hello?” Your voice is thick with sleep.

“Can you open your door? I’m outside.”

You flick on the lamp. “What? Why?”

You hear Jake sigh through the phone. “I need to talk to you, Y/N. Can you please come to the door?”

“Okay. Hold on.” You hang up and roll out of bed, pulling down your t-shirt from where it’s ridden up over your belly. You tuck your loose hair behind your ears, and open the door.

Jake is standing there, hands in his pockets, still wearing his clothes from earlier today.

“What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk. Please let me in.”

You’re annoyed that he’s chosen to do this right now. “Does it have to be at 3.30 in the morning? Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve already left it too long. I need to say this now.”

He’s definitely had a drink, but he’s not drunk like you imagined him to be. Actually, he seems quite lucid. You take a step back and gesture inside. He steps past you, walks to the centre of the room and turns back to face you. You shut the door and look at him, unsure how to proceed, so you don’t. You wait for him to speak.

He looks nervous. He runs his hand through his hair, pacing the carpet, staring at the floor.

“Look, I, uh, I'm really sorry. I really fucked up the other night. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was cruel and you didn’t deserve that.”

You let out the breath you’ve been holding. “Okay. Thanks for saying that.”

“I really mean it. It wasn’t fair of me to put it all back on you. I didn’t know that’s how you felt, and I reacted poorly. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You walk over and sit on the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry too, Jake.” He looks down at you with those soft, brown eyes. “It wasn’t fair of me to say that, knowing your situation. There was a better way of handling it. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. I want you to be able to be honest with me.” He sits down next to you. “You mean a lot to me, y’know, and these past couple days have been really shitty. I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t want to go home without explaining myself to you.”

“I appreciate that, Jake. I missed you too.”

He hums.

You pat the back of his hand where it’s gripping the edge of the bed. “Can we just go back to how we were before?”

He looks directly into your eyes, flipping his hand up to thread his fingers through yours.

He brings his other hand up to your chin, his index finger tilting your head up lightly toward his.

You can feel your heart hammering.

His gaze flicks to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

He leans in, ghosting his lips ever so softly over yours.

You lean into it for a moment. You’ve spent so long wondering what this would feel like.

It’s fireworks.

After a few seconds, you pull away.

“What are you doing?”

He frowns. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I know it’s complicated. You know I can’t be with you. But I need you in my life, Y/N. So if you want this, you know,” he gestures to himself, “I want it too.”

“Want what? To sleep with you?” You pull back further, so none of you is touching him.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess so? God, it sounds so crass when you say it like that. I just mean, you know what I can offer you. This is it. And I want you around. So let me give this to you.”

You sigh, running all this over in your head. You think back to what Jules said.

“No, Jake. I don’t want sex. I want to be friends, like we were before. If you want that.”

“What about what you told me the other night? This not being just friendship to you?”

“It is. You said so yourself. We’re close, and we like each other’s company. I want you in my life too. It’s just friendship.”

He sighs and drops his hands into his lap. You wish you knew what he was thinking.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I can’t stand not being around you. I need you, Y/N.”

“I need you too, Jake.” You rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Thanks for wearing my suit tonight.”

He hums. “I just wanted you to see me how I see you. When we ran into each other in the elevator yesterday, and you had my sweatshirt on, y’know…” He sighs. “I can’t explain it. It just made me happy.”

Your heart flutters.

“Can I, uh, can I sleep in here?” He puts his hand on your thigh. “I meant what I said, I don’t sleep the same without you.”

You giggle. “Of course you can. This bed is huge.”

He grins. “Good.”

You scoot back up the bed as he kicks off his shoes and shucks off his jeans, unbuttoning the bottom few buttons of his navy shirt and letting it fall to the floor.

“Alright. Move over, bed hog.”

You giggle and scoot over to your side as he climbs in.

You both get comfortable and you reach up to switch off the light.

His hand finds yours under the covers.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Jake.”

“Will you come home with me for Christmas?”

Chapter 4

@sinarainbows

Message me if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

#sam kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #danny wagner

46 notes · View notes

darkdevasofdestruction · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 5 - Anti-Thesis

One would think Katrina's life couldn't border away from the limits of perfection; What more was for her to desire? She's already gotten her freedom, some kind of excitement in her life in the form of the demon and how he was able to catch her interest so; Her wholesome reunion with her fiance, and her friendship with the prefects was very much appreciated also.

Being able to study so many subjects, especially her main area of interest, and then going hang out with Edgar by the flower field, with him playing with her hair, and she would read her medical textbooks, resting her head on his lap. At some point, she even was gifted a beautifully embroidered handkerchief, done with his own hands - She was going to cherish it forever. It was the first time she was able to learn what camaraderie truly was, as she received and offered help to peers, older or younger than her.

To think that her simple yet equally brilliant idea of going to Undertaker would upturn her whole life, and would make her experience happiness at its peak. The ignorant bliss of an ordinary life. She was compelled to write weekly letters to her benefactor, expressing her gratitude and telling him all the gossips and stories that she wanted to tell him over a cup of tea, but could not.

However, all fairy tales have some kind of dark twist of events, and for Katrina, said critical point of ultimate distress materialised as Derek Arden, the Duke of Clemens' son... Otherwise known as the cousin of the Queen herself. From an outside perspective, Derek was the embodiment of perfection, without the littlest flaw to him.

Of course, being a vixen herself, she could sense the cunning lies that hid behind the seraphic mask he was hiding behind - Much like Sebastian himself, a butler without a flaw is suspicious without a speck of doubt, yet unlike the demon, Arden was the devil only in an adjective sense, a devil in human's skin.

He bullies people, he beats them, accuses them baselessly, he makes them do his homework, his embroideries, his poems... He does nothing except blackmail people into doing his bidding, and of course, Katrina, with her detective sense, without even meaning to, found him out. Adrian Crevan, however, was the protegee of the Prefects, a seemingly perfect young gentleman himself who excelled in various studies - The perfect victim for the privileged young man who had it all.

But during one of Adrian Crevan's nights of berating, degradation and physical altercations, one of Arden's own goonies manhandled him so roughly that he managed to rip the expensive textile of his clothing, revealing his secret - Adrian Crevan was actually a cross-dressing lady with no right to study in a men's only college. Much was the Duke's son's delight as he had something to extort and threaten to reveal her secret - He was gracious enough not to report her, of course, with the right price of working for him, just like everyone else.

Not only that, but he found out her true identity and that she was engaged to Edgar Redmond; Adding that to knowing the prefects already knew of her, their reputation was going to be tarnished if these things were to be made public - A huge scandal was going to take place. The daughter of the High Court Judge making a mockery of the tradition of London's most prestigious college, and the nephew of the renowned Viscount Druitt - While he, the son of Duke Clemens, the cousin of the Queen herself, will be shown in a graceful light as he did the righteous thing of revealing the truth he uncovered.

Katrina had just gotten a taste of happiness, she didn't want it to be so harshly taken away from her like that. She couldn't have that. She had to be saved somehow, to unmask the devilry of his actions and get justice without also being brought down the drain herself. She couldn't even get back home to get some relief, some kind of de-stressing, laugh with the Undertaker, flirt and give a hard time to Sebastian, beat Grell up and spew slander at William - There was nothing more she needed than to be allowed the comfort of her little home, and perhaps something to sooth her bruised skin.

Every day, without fail, late at night when she was sure there was no one spying, she would send a line into the complaint box, written in golden ink on an elegant black stationary paper.

"𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝓂𝒶𝓁ℯ 𝒻ℴ𝓍'𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓀ℯ𝓃 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝒶 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓉ℴ 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓇. 𝒲𝒽ℴ'𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓁 𝓋𝒾𝓍ℯ𝓃 𝓃ℴ𝓌, ℐ 𝓌ℴ𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇?"

Likewise, it seemed as though Edgar was able to figure out there was something wrong with, based on her speaking less than usual, and even flinching at the slightest of touches; The poor blond would flash confused, worried glances her way - At the same time, Derek would smirk at her, reminding her of their unspeakable deal. How long would it take for either of the Prefects would realise, she wondered.

She hoped soon, because she wasn't sure how long her body could take this frequent abuse before her milky complexion would turn blue, purple, black and yellow, and every other shade in-between. She was supposed to be a lady, how in the world could she possibly show herself with bruises and marks all all over her arms. Not only for her sake, but for everyone else who was in the same situation, she hoped this nightmare would end soon... Though she doubted that would be the case, as she noticed even the Vice-Principal being an accomplice, an arrogant man, bribed with alcohol and favour.

Weeks passed at an alarming pace, and nothing was being done. Realising that the Prefects still had no idea of the horrors and corruption happening right under their noses, she came up with the idea of dedicating a poem to them. Along with the other bullied boys, they came up with the perfect key-words that would have just the perfect amount of vagueness that it would attract the eye and wonder their enigma. She was almost proud of the way she was capable of writing coded lines - Blue ink instead of black, to subtly highlight the words of interest. Kat knew her fiance the best - Him, of all people, should be able to pick up on such a difference; His keen sight was always attentive to detail, and there was none like him, capable of deciphering the true meaning of the poem.

"𝒲𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝒯𝒽ℴ𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝓎𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒷ℯ𝓈𝒾𝒹ℯ𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓁𝒶𝓀ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝒾𝓃𝓉ℯℊ𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒸𝒽 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝒹ℯ, ℒℯ𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒽𝒾𝓈 ℯ𝒶𝓇 𝓉ℴ 𝒶 𝒷ℯ𝓃ℯ𝓋ℴ𝓁ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓅ℴ𝓈𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒶 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓅 ℴ𝒻 𝒷ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝓅ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓁, 𝒜 𝓃𝒶𝓊ℊ𝒽𝓉𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝓅𝓅ℯ𝒶𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓉ℴ𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓃𝓉ℴ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓁𝒶𝓀ℯ. 𝒲𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝒽ℯ 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓈ℴ, 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒸𝒽 𝓌ℯ𝓃𝓉 ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁ℯ𝒹 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓁𝒶𝓀ℯ 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈. 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓁𝒶𝓀ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝒸𝒶𝓂ℯ 𝓁ℯℊℯ𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓅ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝓉, 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒢ℴ𝒹 𝓌𝒽ℴ 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒷ℯℯ𝓃 𝒹ℯ𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓋ℯ𝒹 ℴ𝒻 𝓁𝒾ℊ𝒽𝓉 𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 ℴ𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊ℊ𝒽 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓃𝒾ℊ𝒽𝓉."

Derek Arden was Deprived of Light... They will understand it when they sees it.

As expected, that jerk, along with his friends, got three of the bullied kids beaten up and on the ground, and everyone was making fun of then, as they watched. Katrina, also was there, and though she wasn't being hit with the cricket paddle, Arden's hand was tightly gripping her hair, slammed her into the wall, her clothes pulled to ripping point, so close that she had to meekly hold her arms to hold the cloth properly over her chest. She daren't even attempt to fight back or claw her way out of his grasp, fearing being physically exposed in all her shame. Thankfully, the scene was interrupted by the door opening, and through it stepped Edgar himself, his eyes wide, shocked, and pained at the display before him. "Derek...?" there was nothing but horror in his eyes, as the culprit looked back, feeling busted. His grip loosened, allowing the lady room to wiggle away, but she couldn't fight him off. "Deprived of light... All results were fake. You took other's talents through despicable means and used them to make yourself shine... I should have known when you couldn't decipher that poem..." Edgar gritted his teeth in anger and guilt whilst Bluewer ushered everyone to their dorms.

"Sheesh... I ONLY NEEDED ONE MORE YEAR!" Derek yelled, grabbing Katrina and putting her in a choke hold with one arm, while the other oscillated between holding her tightly by the waist, or gesticulating. "I'm the heir to a famous Marquis house, right? My family have been prefects here for generations and all. I'm so over that. I didn't even want to go, but they just threw me into this place. So, can't you just overlook it when I want to let off some steam? In return, I'll supply you with a much bigger donation than everyone else, from my dad. If you like, I'll even accept a Y so..." Derek kept talking cockily, but Herman had none of it.

"STOP FOOLING AROUND, AND LET HER GO! The principal will hear about this from the Vice-Principal! Be prepared for a fitting punishment!" Herman yelled at him, hating this injustice, but he was unaware of the true corruption at hand.

"Did you hear that?" he called out, revealing the Vice-Principal himself, looking down with sheer arrogance at them.

"Vice-Principal Agares?! What is the meaning of this?! Why are you...?" Edgar blinked in confusion and betrayal.

"I see the situation. Derek and four others... You will receive 2 Y for being out at night." the VP spoke sternly, making Derek push her away and let out a fake and slurred apology.

"To think that even in the most prestigious London College, such inconceivable corruption could take place. Bullying, beating, blackmail, corruption, physical, verbal and sexual harassment, alcohol and drug dealing, getting out of the school premises, manipulating, extorting, forgery... And so many more... And yet you, Vice-Principal, would rather sell yourself for a bottle of whiskey and the grace of the Duke's family. You are as despicable for accepting it, as he is, for being the mastermind behind all this." seeing as the truth was revealed and there was little she could do anymore except speak out, considering she may get kicked out school.

She struggled to keep her clothes intact and still properly covering them, though the VP had no mercy hearing her talk back to him like that. He backhanded her so bad, she stumbled away. "The only thing I can see needing to be reported to the principal is that a nosy, impertinent woman found her way inside an all boys' school, and Derek was righteous enough to speak against rule-breaking." his eyes were bored and cold, looking down at her as though she was less than scum, and even lesser.

"The principal had already accepted me. You cannot take that away from me." she glared at him, seething through her teeth.

"B-But...! We can't let this get swept under the rug just like that!" Edgar tried to speak once again, only to feel the harshness of the VP.

"This year's prefects are quite rude and hide so many important secrets. Even more, you dare voice your opinions against the Vice-Principal? If you don't want to follow her route and be expelled for rule-breaking, I suggest you shut up and go on with your lives as you've done so far." he glared at his, making Katrina gasp at his words.

"Expelled?! You have no right to expel me! I can have you thrown out of here - There are enough witnesses who saw you selling yourself for a bottle of whiskey and some money, you disgusting, arrogant bastard!" she barked back at him, only to see the VP smirking wretchedly at her, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

"That's what rule-breakers deserve, you insolent woman." was the VP's response, as Derek started stretching next to him.

"Ah, man, I feel so down. Next year I'll have to be a prefect, huh?" he whined as Edgar rushed to her side, holding her to his chest protectively. Not only was the shock of the discovery enough to shake him to the core, but he had to watch his fiance being belittled and oppressed to an unimaginable degree.

Things turned a far different turn than they expected however, as Herman, in an impulsive fit of angry rage, used his Cricket paddle to hit Derek Arden over the head, as hard as his muscles could muster up strength. The first to grasp the gravity of the situation were the too Violet Wolves who rushed to the doors to block everyone from leaving the room, whilst Bluewer and Edgar held down the Vice-Principal... Allowing the Lion to kill everyone.

Many minutes were needed for everything to settle down with a graveyard silence; Violet took off his cloak and covered the lady, hiding her form carefully. Katrina went to each and every one of the victims, taking their pulse - She confirmed they were all dead. There was no way anyone could survive taking a paddle to the head, if it came from that musclehead Greenhill.

"I-It's all my fault... What did I do..." the poor boy was shaking, his grip tightening on the paddle.

"No." Katrina sighed. "This is all on me." her fingers went deep into her locks. "For weeks now, Arden had known my secret, and took advantage of it. I had reached the limit point of despair, and realised there was something I needed to do - It was either giving up my education... And the other, unmasking his sins. I knew the VP was involved, but... Damn." she sighed once again. "If I knew this was going to happen... If I knew I would implicate all of you... That this would happen... I wouldn't have bothered... I would have simply continued to take it for as long as needed. I am so sorry... I... I'm so sorry I got you in this mess."

"You didn't have a choice - Either of you. It was right of you to report the crimes, and they had to be punished accordingly." Bluewer shook his head, reassuring the two that neither of them was baring any ill-will. "As it stands, Greenhill will get the blame and Miss Raymond will be expelled."

"...I have an idea. Will you leave it to me?" Edgar sighed, having a plan.

"No... I can't have you commit a crime as well." Herman shook his head, almost crying.

"And I can't have you punished for being the mastermind of this reveal. I called you here, so I created this domino effect." Katrina crouched to grasp the bloody paddle from his hands.

"Katrina, not only as a Prefect, but the Prefect of your own house no less, it was me who should have protected you, and all the other Violet Wolves. I failed. We all did." Gregory got next to her, one hand on her shoulder, squeezing it, while the other was holding the handle of the murder weapon. "We're all in this together. You are not the only Prefect here, Greenhill." Violet said, walking next to me and grasping the handle as well.

"Yes. We are sworn to protect this school." Bluewer nodded, joining in.

"For that purpose we will proudly commit a crime." Edgar joined as well, making the poor Green Prefect gasp in emotion.

Kat, also, couldn't help but look down, biting her lip. Sooner rather than later, this crime will be revealed, and the Queen will be sending her Dog to investigate the situation, with her trailing behind shamelessly, playing dumb of the whole ordeal. It was going to be a great mess. If she thought dealing with Derek's abuse was the epitome of bad, the moment the Queen suspects foul play, it's all over.

After finding out the principal was conveniently on a trip around the world, Edgar admitted the potential plan of human resuscitation could potentially work. Though she wanted to ask more about such a ridiculous ordeal - How could dead humans come back to life, after all? That went beyond the laws of nature! - Her fiance placed a kiss on her forehead, begging her to forget everything that happened. It wasn't for a lovely lady like her to deal with. He was the man, and he was going to be dealing with this mess, one way or another.

Just as conveniently, Katrina received a letter from the Undertaker, stating that Ciel was ready to investigate the Noah Circus, so it was time for yet another well-deserved break. Honestly, after such hellish chaos, she wanted to get out of there faster. In spite of her dreadful feeling when thinking of the College, knowing that her dear fiance was there to protect her was rather endearing. A warm feeling was always engulfing her heart, whenever she thought of Edgar. How lucky she was, having such a kind, reliable man as her future husband. If all else fails in life, perhaps hiding inside his manor for the rest of her days and becoming that pretty eye-candy lady accessory at his side, batting her lashes and fanning herself lazily didn't sound as bad anymore.

Finally arrived at home, Katrina slept through the whole day - It felt so good, finally able to relax properly and take a hot bath in the comfort of her own home, where there was no risk of getting caught for being a man. Truly, she's accidentally seen enough male private parts when passing the showers, and she was pretty sure she needn't see one more for a few lifetimes. Concerned for her health, the mortician checked on the sleeping lady every two hours, and though he'd softly called out her name and ask if she wanted to eat something or drink some tea, he was met with not even a tweak of her body. The poor girl was entirely defeated. Once she did open her eyes, however, she was met with a tray with lots of food and tea - The Undertaker was ready to have a jovial late breakfast with his cute, little fox - There was, after all, so much gossip to catch up to!

His easy-going grin faltered however, as he put down his cup and extended his hands to grasp her arm, his long, black nails gently trailing up her arm, rolling up the fabric of her sleeve, revealing the large spots of unnatural colour painting her skin. "What in the world could have happened, my dear?" his voice was unexpectedly somber, at least an octave lower than usual.

"O-Oh... Don't worry too much about that. I... Got injured during cricket practice. Violet wants me in the team. Needless to say, Greenhill doesn't exactly know when to play casually." her awkward chuckle, however, didn't impress the man.

"There is something you haven't told me, isn't it? What is it that you're hiding?" he asked, his face leaning closer to her, weirdly intimidating.

"It's really not something to be concerned about. Not anymore, at least. The, uh... The rotten part of the golden apple had been cut off and thrown in the trash." despite saying that, she couldn't look at him directly.

"And would the Queen miss that golden apple, or is she not interested in fruit?" it was always uncomfortable almost, speaking in metaphors like that, especially with him.

"The Queen has always been rather fond of apple pie... But nobody was aware that those apples were poisoned and were parasiting every other fruit in the orchard." she muttered softly. "I only hope no animals will be thrown around to find this golden apple."

"Don't you worry, my sweetling. Even if that were to happen, the single, most appealing sweet cherry will be guarded, and far away from any harm of any kind." though it was supposed to serve as reassuring, the statement sounded more ominous than she expected, and if Katrina suspected some kind of involvement from the mortician, now she was almost sure he must be a relative or best friend of the principal, otherwise, he wouldn't have any base for such a bold declaration.

In spite of feeling nearly threatened, not only by the menacing words of the parlor owner, but of his creepy grin... She actually did feel more comforted knowing that, no matter what may come out of that mess, her future may still have some ground. "I don't deserve your kindness." though the comment made the man bark a laugh, the carefree and cheerful atmosphere returned, and the gossips and stories were in bloom.

Two of three days later, perhaps almost as though he was called, Ciel came by the parlor, just as Katrina finished baking a cake. She was very proud of the way it ended up, especially considering she had to learn everything about cooking from scratch. Undertaker was fine with eating actual dog biscuits, but she wasn't. Though, she still couldn't brew a tea as good as he did. In spite of all the try-hard attempts at cooking proper meals that were, well... Not poisonous... Katrina still wanted to go by the Phantomhive mansion and get to taste Sebastian's cooking and baking. That man was ironically Godly when it came to food.

"Hehehehe.... Did you finally want to get into one of my special coffins? Have a seat, I've just baked a cake." Undertaker giggled creepily as Katrina walked into the room as well, holding the small cake on a large platter.

"Actually, I did, so it's safe to eat... I hope." she smirked vaguely, waiting for Ciel and Sebastian to settle down and talk. "I've never baked before."

The Undertaker grinned, getting behind the lady and leaning down over her shoulder, taking a long sniff of the cake, as though he was some kind of animal. "Smells good!" he chirped enthusiastically, eagerly taking out a knife and cutting a large cake slice for himself - How greedy.

"Might not be the best looking, but as long as it's eatable, I think that's good enough for a first try." out of courtesy, she cut slices for the two new-comers, though not without having to stifle a chuckle when handing the plate to the demon. "Forgive me, I do not think it is going to be quite to your liking though."

"It's... Decent." Ciel muttered, though Kat knew it was nothing compared to every delicacy he was used to, done by his butler.

"Decently magnificent!" Undertaker wolfed down the whole slice, which was portioned rather as almost half of the whole cake.

"No need to flatter me, I have taste buds for myself. It's fine, I'm rather proud of how it came out. Suppose I should continue trying out new recipes, after all." Kat hummed, smiling cutely after taking a first taste of her cake.

"Wonderful news, my darling~!" of course he'd like the news of Katrina cooking - He needn't live on tea and dog biscuits anymore. What an exploiter.

"What do you say, Sebastian? A little ashy, innit?" she teased the demon slightly, recalling the curry nudge.

"Not at all, My Lady; In fact, I can taste the sweet taste of chocolate." his answer seemed to pleasantly surprise the girl. "If you wish for guidance, I would be honoured to provide help for your culinary journey."

"I would very much appreciate it, Sebastian. There is no one who cooks and bakes better than you." Katrina offered a shy smile - The demon couldn't help but feel a short wave of scorching fire wash over him for a split second - The little vixen can be such an adorable little lamb sometimes, how endearing. To think the one going out of her way to tease and taunt him with every chance she got, would smile like such a sweet little kitten; It only made him want her more.

"Now that we've got all sweetened up by our adorable little lady; I'm sure the Young Earl wants to get down to business already. Not one to mess around and waste time, is it?" the mortician mused with mock hilarity. "I know why you are here, earl. Children's corpses... The surface world has not yet found the missing corpses, it seems. And in the underworld, children's corpses are my everyday occurrence, after all, which the earl knows veeeeeeeery well, doesn't he?" the Undertaker slurred with a grin, sipping from the tea that Katrina poured for them.

"We've brought you the documents. Are there any children you've 'Tidied up' amongst them?" Ciel asked, all business, and she could only chuckle, realising what the goofy man was waiting for.

"Nothing's for free, Ciel." Kat winked at the blue eyed boy.

"I wonder~! Were they there~? If I saw something interesting, I think I'd remember~. A first rate laugh, if you do thaaaaat, I'l tell you anything you want ~! You understand, don't you, earl~? You'll have to give me that~!" the silver haired man was almost drooling with anticipation, until the young boy called out his butler's name.

"Are you always going to rely on others to do everything for you, Ciel? Don't you know sometimes you have to do the field work yourself? You couldn't be helpless without Sebastian... Could you~?" she innocently sipped from the tea, knowing she hit quite the nerve.

"...I'll do it." Katrina was sure poor Ciel almost popped a vein from anger as he said that.

"Young Master, are you certain?" Sebastian looked with surprise at the young one.

"Leave. And don't you DARE peek. That's an order. Both of you - Get out!" Ciel looked very dangerously at his butler, who could only bow and leave.

"But Ciel, I live here. You can't possibly kick me out of my house, can you?" the red haired lady hummed at him, making the earl flustered up violently.

"Now, now, dear, surely, we can accommodate the Young Earl a little. After all, it's his first time dabbling in comedy. With that butler of his always doing his bidding, the earl is trying to grow up, for once~!" though the child protested like a brat throwing a tantrum, all frowny and bothered, Katrina couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head, stepping outside of the parlor.

"I got kicked out of my house, how's that?" she smiled playfully, sitting down on the porch. "I hope you're wearing comfortable clothes, Sebastian. We're going to be out here for quite a while."

"If My Lady thinks we might be waiting for long, then perhaps she should have brought a jacket with her." the man teased her softly, though at once, he had already placed his coat carefully over her shoulders.

"Yes, I suppose I should be practicing what I've been preaching, yes? I am just like a pastor - A complete hypocrite." she hummed in amusement. "Regardless, I hadn't expected to be kicked out like that. Took me by surprise, really. Ciel got really embarrassed at the mere thought of me seeing him struggle with his comedy skit." Sebastian was crouched down by her side, his eyes, so warm and tender, yet holding such devilish mischief seemed to be staring intently at her. Katrina rose a quizzical eyebrow at him, unsure of his uncharacteristic silence. Usually, he'd retort with some witty reply to her playful banter - Now, however, he said nothing. "Sebastian? Is there something bothering or upset you? I would have expected you to find entertainment in me slandering the so-called messengers from God."

"Yes, you are correct, My Lady - I cannot take away from your unique sense of humour, and how much the irony of it amuses me so - However, I have to wonder..." the demon bit away his white glove, cold fingertips trailing down her neck artery and down to her cleavage, gently pushing away the thin material of her dress to reveal the traces of poorly covered bruises with fading make up powder. "What kind of savage brute you have encountered in the time we were away, that he could inflict such atrocious marks on a damsel like yourself."

Katrina's first instinct was to hide away her damaged skin with her hands, but somehow, being fixed by that demonic gaze rendered her unable to move; She felt so little, so defenseless, hearing him make such a big deal out of what happened. For a woman who beat up a Shinigami with a crowbar, she sure allowed weak humans to do away with harming her. "I..." her eyes were unable to focus on him; Instead, they seemed to search some kind of nothingness, away, to the side. "I suppose not all men are as gentlemanly as they'd wish to appear." she mumbled softly. "The real monsters have never been demons or whatever horrifying shape the shadow takes in the night. Humans are humanity's worst nightmare, Sebastian."

"And if this particular monster was to be disposed of? Would your nightmares turn to sweet dreams, My Lady?" the demon's hand gently picked her chin, making her look at him.

"Nightmares might be dispelled with the sudden disappearance of one's reason for distress... But, Sebastian..." Katrina leaned closer to him, her hands gingerly holding his hand so that she could cutely nuzzle into his palm like a little kitten, before placing a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist. "Only with a proper, loving treatment, may one achieve pleasant dreams."

The butler, though amazed by her mellow demeanour, couldn't help an almost shameless smirk from tugging at his lips. Coddling up to a demon like that, how endearing, and so different from the otherwise pleasantly feisty and provoking lady. For how long was she going to tempt him, until he finally gave in to his nefarious greed and he claimed what was rightfully his? "You are playing with fire, my dear Lady, and as it stands, you might just get your fur singed."

"I don't see a huge problem, Sebastian, after all, I am getting rather cold, and I am in dire need of some warming up." Katrina rose her hands to his face. "See? My fingers are turning blue from this dreadful weather, and your Master is taking so long in his task. Surely, you have to be somewhat responsible for the action of the one you're serving... Thus, you should be held accountable."

"Held accountable, you say~?" Sebastian's wicked simper widened enough to show off his devilish, elongated canines. "There are plenty of ways to warm up a brazzen little kitten such as yourself, to the point of suffocating even from the heat; There are ways that would leave you craving the scorch of hell, as the tongues of flame caress every inch of your skin..." the man trailed on, only to switch positions with the woman, as he was now sitting with Katrina placed on his lap - His arms were cradling her small form into his chest; He was burning with warmth and desire. "But I am not cruel, nor unfair with kittens like yourself - Not unless you've earned the need for some discipline for scraping away the drapes."

Katrina snuggled into his embrace, her face leaning in the crook of his neck, as her body was eagerly welcoming the comforting heat of his body; He felt like a furnace. Rather boldly, one of her hands found its rightful place on his chest, where his heart would be. "I never imagined demons were as alive as you are." she absent-mindedly wondered out loud. "You bleed, just like any creature alive; You have a pulse, and it is quite rapid. I wonder your heart, also, how it feels listening to it beat. I heard it is supposed to be calming, just like a cat's purr."

"If you promise to purr for me sweetly, My Lady, then I might not be opposed to allowing you to test that theory yourself." even the soft rumble of his velvety, soothing voice seemed to comfort the girl into relaxing in his arms, though her hand cutely remained over his hear, despite being unable to feel it through so many layers of clothing. Katrina purred into neck, lazily teasing the demon. "Sounds like a fair compromise, and very much in my favour. Have I mellowed you, demon?"

"I am guilty of being unable to resist the charm of beautiful cats, such as yourself." one of his hands started petting her hair, as he would to a cat. "You are being awfully tender yourself, My Lady."

"I am unable to resist you." she so daringly declared. "I have never felt anything quite like this. It is... Addicting. And you, demon, should know how greedy humans are with their pleasures."

"I am rather amazed with your forwardness, though I have to admit, I find your innocent honesty rather... Adorable." the man hummed, knowing very well the effect of his voice's vibration.

"I was wondering, Sebastian." Katrina never once let her lazy smile disappear. "Can demons die from a death scythe?"

"What an unexpected question you ask, My Lady. Yes, I suppose, I have to agree, something as ridiculous as a gardening tool is capable of bringing our demise - Nothing else." the demon answered her.

"You were bleeding rather heavily when fighting against that fool - Grell, was it? Not that his name matters - But were you close to your death? Even your breathing was affected, and you looked exhausted for a while." she recalled the events of that dreadful night.

"It takes more than that to kill a demon - I will have to ask you not to underestimate my kin so." the man could barely hold himself from scoffing in irritation.

"Why haven't you used a weapon to defend against that chainsaw?" the lady asked innocently.

"A Death Scythe can cut through anything, even the toughest material, without fail." that notion stiffened her body, as she slowly shifted her position to look at him. "I see you figured out also."

"It did not cut through my sword." she breathed out silently. "If two Death Scythes were to clash... Would they cut each other, or remain unscathed?"

"I think we both found out the answer to that, My Lady." from her genuine confusion and bewilderment as she regained her rightful spot cuddled in his arms, Sebastian easily concluded, whoever offered her that sword, hadn't quite told her of its spectacular properties.

It was already late into the evening when the door opened, signaling Ciel's success in grasping the smallest giggle out of the mortician. With some help from the butler, he guided her back inside the parlor, revealing the poor boy in a rather disheveled state. Katrina simply HAD to ask Undertaker later the full story - Now THAT was going to garner an endless stream of laughs.

"What on Earth did you do?" Sebastian asked, trying to fix his clothes.

"Don't ask." the poor boy grumbled in annoyance.

"But, for the sake of the Queen, you'll perform and even do this kind of thing. You really are a dog." Sebastian chuckled at the irony.

"Shut the hell up." Ciel gritted his teeth at his cheeky butler. "There, I gave you your reward. Now tell me about the children." he glared at the Undertaker, who grinned like the cheshire cat, throwing the documents in Kat's lap, urging her to look through the files.

"None of these children were our clients." she noticed.

"And I haven't heard any rumours from the underworld companies." Undertaker, also, spoke out.

"So, in other words, you know nothing about this case?" Ciel scowled at the man.

"You are getting rusty, Ciel." Kat smirked, theatrically throwing the folder up into the air, the papers flying around aimlessly around them. "If even the Undertaker doesn't know of the missing children, it means they weren't killed - Not only the possibility of them being alive arises... But it also means you finally get to do some legwork and investigate the circus yourself!" she barked a mocking laugh at the boy, who still was tired from his comedic skit.

"What, you aren't coming?" the Earl asked, walking towards the exit.

"And miss out on the fun? Not a chance." Katrina smirked, rushing after them as the carriage got them to Noah's Ark Circus.

The short walk from the street and to the tent itself seemed nothing out of the ordinary - People seemed joyful, there were circus artists performing idly, mascots and jesters all around. The three went inside the tent, having their tickets cut and allowed to seat themselves, awaiting the beginning of the show. As expected, some jokes were thrown around, there were people breathing fire or jumping the trapeze, acrobats showing off, others were dagger-throwing at a rotating target with another human tied to it; A lovely girl was rope-walking, a cute, silver haired snake-hybrid looking man was manipulating numerous snakes hanging around his scaly body. Sebastian mentioned he couldn't sense any of the children, just as a lasciviously dressed woman showed off her leather whip, taming a tiger.

The leader of the circus asked for a volunteer from the public, and of course, Sebastian had to get up and march up to the ring. Tigers were felines, and only Hell knows how much he adores felines. How adorable of him. He crouched down in front of the tiger, fluffing it up, admiring it, taking its paw in his hands... Until it bit his head and Katrina could only facepalm at his idiocy. He really was so cute. The woman tried to whip the tiger to let him go, but of course, Sebastian had to show off and stop the whip, while saying the feline had no fault in it - He even scolded the woman! The audacity! The tiger bit him again. Sebastian truly was one hell... Of a fool.

"Who said you could go that far?!" Ciel growled at his butler as the trio exited the circus tent.

"My apologies. I've lived for such a long time, but it's only cats whose fickle emotions I cannot read." Sebastian smiled, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Ah - Look at you, blushing so cutely - How can I resist the charm of such an angelic being like yourself?" Katrina couldn't help but tease him.

"YOU KNOW I'M ALLERGIC TO CATS! Walk further back!" Ciel kept sneezing violently.

Though Katrina was dearly enjoying seeing the butler being so innocently cute, she was unable to continue half-teasing and half-gushing over his love for all kinds of cats, as the ginger-haired presenter of the circus stopped them, pleading to the man to get checked by their doctor and make sure he was as fine as he said he was. It hadn't dawned initially, but Kat noticed, from the corner of her eye, how Ciel hid himself, allowing only the two of them to follow the man calling himself Joker to the medical tent - Still, they had to pass a rather menacing walk, where everyone was eerily glaring at them - What a disconcerting feeling the lady was feeling, she couldn't help but shiver softly, clinging to the sleeve of his coat until they reached the safety of the medical tent, and meeting the messy-looking doctor in a wheelchair.

The blond boy who looked around Finny's age asked if Sebastian was the one bitten by Betty, the gorgeous tiger, making the doctor immediately grab the butler, searching his head for any injury - Surprise surprise, there was no wound, how absolutely miraculous. During the check-up, the eccentric ginger man let it slip that he wasn't truly the ring leader, but something closer to a hired shop manager, and that the real ring leader was actually a pretty scary guy. Out of nowhere, the woman garbed in the succubus outfit of black leather strutted inside, tired, asking to have her leg looked at - Only to notice and glare at Sebastian, even scold him for ruining her show - All whilst the blond was on his knees, confessing his undying love for her.

How absolutely tragic.

"You are the mad gentleman from earlier! Why are you here?! Thanks to you, the show was--" the woman, Beast, pointed accusatory at Sebastian, while the doctor, on the other end, was scolding her, making the butler be at the middle of this banter... Quite literally.

"What are you saying to our guest?! In this case, if you weren't able to control Betty, wasn't that your own carelessness?" the doc pointed out her mistake.

"But he carelessly -" she tried to defend herself, but to no avail.

"There's no buts about it! You're a pro, aren't you?" the doctor shot right back, only to have the two men intervene.

"Now, now, doc, don't yell in front of the customer!" the ginger one grinned carefree.

"That's right! Instead of that, please take a look at my big sis's leg!" the blond one changed the subject quickly.

"Ahh, fine... After this, Beast must discipline Betty again. Right, then, let me see the prosthetic." the doctor agreed, as the brunette sat on the table.

"Prosthetic?" Sebastian blinked in surprise.

"There's a bit of a reason behind this circus. Folks with some sorta problem gather together here. I'm amissing an arm too, but thanks to doc, I've got this. Pretty cool, huh?" this one called Joker explained, showing off his skeleton hand.

"Oh, it looks lovely!" Katrina quickly threw herself into the equation, gingerly taking his hand into her own and caressing all of his phalanx... They really felt like actual human bone phalanx, she realised, though she simply plastered a sweet, bashful smile as she looked up at the man. "I think it makes you look really cool!"

"It may look cool, but that hand goes bad so quickly! Makes me want to readjust his whole body, too!" the doc scoffed at the boy.

"You're the one who made the prosthetics for this circus?" Sebastian asked, faking surprise.

"Yeah, that's right. It's hard work, since I do everything from the carving onwards." the doctor explained simply.

"Carving? Doesn't that usually involve wood? They seem much finer than simple wood - More like fine porcelain." Kat raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It's ceramic. Well, I say ceramic, but they're made of special materials that make them light and durable." the man explained, which made her question the true materials used for these prosthetics.

"I see. It also feels good." Sebastian nodded as he started feeling the woman's leg from her ankle up - He was so close, between her legs; So very close to the most private part of her body, which she only his with the tiniest skirt, leaving little to the imagination.

"Right? So that they move smoothly, I use ball-jointed doll parts." the doc continued his explanation, almost cheerful to have someone in awe at his work, completely unaware of the awfully intimate position the two were into.

"This is truly finely made." the butler agreed... But he raised the leg up so much above his shoulder, getting in a rather perverted situation - Though he looked seemingly unaware, Katrina knew very well he was trying to get a rise out of her - And it worked, as the woman named Beast blushed like crazy; It wasn't until the butler's hand touched and trailed down her ceramic thigh that people around realised the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding them. "This hallmark is...?" Kat heard him muttering - She couldn't help but wonder whose hallmark did she see engraved in that prosthetic?

"U-Uhm... Sebastian..." the red head cleared her throat, hoping he'd pick the hint and not push boundaries, but the woman reacted much quicker and violent.

"What're you doing, you pervert?!" she shrieked, using her prosthetic to attempt a hit on Sebastian; but since he's a demon, he moved out of the way quick enough.

"Ahh, that was rude of me. I've never seen someone so shameless react so modestly, so..." but this is how the mayhem continued with the dagger boy throwing his blades at Sebastian, who did some flips and somehow found himself up on a rope for hanging clothes, holding all daggers between his fingers, a smug smile plastered on his face. Show off.

As soon as Beast tried to hit her whip at the demon, Joker used his baton to create flower and stop her,mildly flirting with her as a warning, before asking Sebastian if he wanted to be recruited. The jerk started berating Ciel, which made his companion barely able to stifle her chuckle, before asking if she could be scouted as well.

"You see, I used to work as the Governess of the little Lady of a Manor in another country. She was very cute, but incredibly spoiled. I don't know if I can do physical tricks, but I'm ambitious and I can try! Besides, I know how to play various instruments, so if anything, I can provide with the music for every circus act!" Katrina's voice turned so comically soft and tender, Sebastian noted, as she enthusiastically clapped her hands together, smiling sweetly at the ginger haired man, who grinned from ear to ear.

Clearly, if he was going to win his way into the circus by proving his prowess, she had to charm her way there and play by her best abilities. What a sly little lady, Sebastian smirked, though he couldn't stand the idea of any other man getting so close and personal with his little kitten - It was him, she wanted. Him, and none else. There was no one else better than him, he was a demon after all. He had felt enough foreign scents lingering on her skin, all of them, having belonged to men - He wanted to rip them all apart limb from limb, eviscerate them and make it rain blood - Alas, he couldn't behave in such a way. "That's amazing! We could really do with someone so lovely that can create atmosphere and lighten up the mood!" Joker said, and Kat could swear she hit the jackpot. She chirped an adorable cheer, making the ginger laugh lightly in glee at her reaction.

"What are you deciding so quickly?!" Beast was already fuming... Was Kat sensing a bit of jealousy? How perfect, she thought - If she was able to charm Joker, Beast's crush, she would be an easy prey for Sebastian to lure in and exploit. Oh, how astonishingly well things fall into place.

"Now, now, they've got outstanding talent!" he chuckled sheepishly, as he bowed to the red head lady, making a pink flower come out of his baton, before putting it in her hair, watching her cheeks turn red like her hair. "There, a pretty flower for a pretty girl! I can't wait to be working with you two!" he smiled so cheerfully, so, to get in the game, she smiled back, her hands clasped together at her chest, looking down bashfully like the angelic, innocent little maiden that she was.

"I can't wait to work with you as well, Joker!" she confessed, making her voice softer and a tiny bit higher than it usually was. If Lizzie were to see her like this, she'd get jealous.

"Ah, that reminds me. The truth is, there is someone else I'd like to introduce to you." Sebastian smiled innocently, and Kat knew things were going to get so chaotic.

Hearing that, Joker explained how they will have an entrance test, and the next day, things were going to get messy as hell. As the duo exited the medical tent, they started analysing the layout of the circus, as on the way to this place, there were nine tents and ten wagons, but, as Sebastian stated, there was still no sign of any children. Their search came to an abrupt halt though, as the snake boy stopped them, warning them they were going the wrong way, and guided them towards the exit.

As they returned to the carriage where Ciel was, Sebastian explained everything there was to know on their way to the Phantomhive manor, where she will be residing for the duration of the mission. They were greeted by the obnoxious Indian Prince whose presence surprised the lady - He was so loud because he wanted to learn chess, of all things. Though Katrina was exhausted, she waved a dismissive hand for Ciel and Sebastian to leave him in her hands and do whatever they needed to be doing before going to sleep, and she proceeded to teach the basics of Chess to the young lad. Finally, too much intellectual exertion got Soma sleepy, so his butler, Agni, urged him to go sleep.

Finally, Katrina could get ready to sleep, and though Mey-Rin was kind enough to offer her assistance at that late hour, considering she needed a change of clothes and especially a nightgown to sleep in, and to take a long, relaxing bath. When she was finally done, she used some sweet perfume and scented oils, ready to go to her temporary bedroom and get to sleep.

To her surprise, the butler was there, preparing the bed for her and fluffing up the pillows. Yes, that bed looked as comfortable as a cloud, she noted. It was the single luxury she missed from back at the Raymond Manor. "A pretty flower for a pretty lady, hm~?" the demon hummed tauntingly. "What a precious little angel we have here, who would have thought." he jabbed at her, straightening up. His coat was long since discarded, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up painfully attractive.

"You know what they say, Sebastian, opposites attract, and for a hedonistic, sinful demon like yourself, I was sure the innocence of a seraphic maiden like myself would entice you." she mused vaguely at him.

"A pure soul like yours only serves as a beacon for creatures like myself - Your personality simply shines as a much welcomed addition." the butler admitted.

"Seductive, yet also innocent - What an oxymoron. Surely, that sounds rather like a demon, tempting another into falling into the abyss of their own indulgence... But I cannot help but wonder - Can a demon fall, the same as a human does? Grow so depraved, so frustrated, so greedy and denied that you cannot restrain yourself to your pristine aesthetics, and you take what's yours to claim?" Sebastian's devilish grin displayed his lustful canines, his tongue flicking over them like a starving beast - He was so very amused by her words, he couldn't help but play into her game.

"Are you calling yourself a Demoness, my dear Lady? A temptress? A seductress?" he tilted his head playfully to the side, his eyes sinfully flashing fuchsia, stepping, prowling towards her like a panther backing its prey against the wall.

"I am certainly not calling myself a Saint." the woman shrugged, smiling defiantly, one foot back, and another, with each one he took forwards towards her, as though they were waltzing so intimately.

"Saints aren't as Holy as most think they are." he mocked the divine.

"Says the one whose last name was given based on the Archangel. You are nothing more than a walking irony, Sebastian, and I will say so with every occasion." she chuckled, leaning her back against the wall, strategically standing at arm's length to the door.

"Your sharp eye never escapes anything, does it... Kitten?" his voice got much lower and slurred, as he spoke that nickname into her ear. He breathed in her scent, feeling not only that sickly sweet floral perfume that suited her so well, but her own inviting heat.

"I wonder, Sebastian - Do demons get jealous? Or, perhaps a better word would be - Territorial? Possessive?" his hot breath on her neck made her grin, despite feeling her heart beat aggressively faster. "You seemed awfully irked when Joker flirted with me. To be the reason you lose, of your own accord, at your own game - A blotch on your flawless, pristine clean demon record, how insanely entertaining, how very satisfying!" she looked at him through the hooded lids of a mischievous little vixen. "That is what demons do, don't they? Throw humans an almost broken thread of hope, and then pleasure themselves on seeing them struggle? Break themselves with needless emotions? No, don't deny it, Sebastian, for in this pitch black that you've created, the only thing I can see is that bewitching pair of glowing, magenta eyes of yours that look oddly similar to those of the felines you love so much - Such as myself." Sebastian slammed one of his hands besides her head, feeling such desire as she didn't even flinch; And instead, continue gazing deep into his soul.

"My Lady, are you attempting to become a demon expert?" he asked, snatching away the pink flower from her hair, making it glow so she could see him burning it, turning it to ashes in his palm, only to create a gorgeous black flower, shimmering other-worldly, and placing it back in her hair. "Demons and sin - They are one and the same. We don't sin - We ARE sin. Jealousy on some puny mortal in unspeakable, though I cannot stand my possessions being touched; Their filthy bodies have no place anywhere near my naughty little kitten who craves only my touch - Isn't that right, Katrina? It is as though your name was accurately chosen to be my sweet little thing, and oh, how you entertain me so. Greed, Lust, Gluttony, and so many other subcategories of these despicable deadly sins - I am them all, when it concerns you." the red head couldn't help but let a laugh out.

"Then, could it be, you were attempting to make me jealous, as you were inspecting Beast's hallmark and taunting her so ruthlessly? Despicable until the end, aren't you? As if I would ever stoop so low and degrade myself to that peasant's level. Ha! Hear that." she sardonically chuckled at him. "If getting a quick fix from someone like her can offer you a second of release and satisfaction, by all means, indulge - But I have to warn you, Sebastian... If you entertain the lower class, well... Cats like being the singular means of one's affection. Surely, a feline expert like yourself would know best, wouldn't you?" Sebastian's both hands were place on either side of her head, caging her so devilishly, so vile, with his adonis body.

"You, little Vixen, are enjoying every little word you're spitting with so much acid. You want to be my spoiled little Kitten, and mewl for me? You purr even from the simplest caress of your hair - I cannot help but be curious what kind of sounds you are capable of, should I pamper you as you deserve." his snake tongue dripped with paralysing poison. "Clearly, that woman has no class, and no worth. She is undeserving of working with such a gorgeous creature. One needs only figure out the important parts, and then leave her like the broken doll she is. There is truly no need to waste time with her." Kat could feel herself smirking with delight as his finger, now ungloved, traced her carotid artery slowly, as if feeling for her spiking pulse.

"Wooden doll, porcelain doll, ceramic doll... Human bone doll?" Kat spoke as in a melody. "You, vile incubus, felt her leg up and down, yet your hands were gloved. Not that I mind. I would rather you take your gloves off only when in my presence." she provoked. "Still... I touched every phalanx from Joker's hand. Every carpus, every metacarpus, every little joint, one by one, very thoroughly. I do like taking my time with such things, you know?" the double entendre wasn't missed on the butler. "I truly wonder though, what that miracle doctor uses for his prosthetic materials. It would be so very ironic should he, Heavens-Forbid, use those children's bones for those prosthetics, wouldn't you agree?" she accentuated the very same ironic phrase he loves using so much.

"Your pure soul is brighter than the moon, and yet, your words are darker than the darkest pits of Tartarus. You call me a walking irony, and yet, you are a true anti-thesis yourself. I have to say, I haven't had such a... Delicious challenge in a long time. I am thrilled to be in your presence." he tried to sound suave, but Kat could only laugh sarcastically.

"Oh, darling, but that's as close as you'll ever get to my soul. We have no contract. I am not Ciel. No matter how appetising my soul is... The truth is... You will never get to touch it! Haha, isn't that amusing?" Katrina giggled nefariously at him. "All you'll be able to do is drool and starve, waiting for Ciel's tarnished, tainted soul, while mine will still be here, glowing with purity and innocence, an infinite times better than his! You're working sooo hard trying to please a child, when the real challenge... The real temptation, the object of your most burning desire, is right here, in front of you. Sooo, close, and yet, farther away than you will ever dream of reaching." she grinned mockingly at him, leaning her face dangerously close to the predator's. "Only able to touch when allowed, only close enough to feel the faint aroma of the most delicious soul you've ever met, yet unable to even get the littlest taste - I may almost start pitying you... But I won't! Sweet dreams, demon~!" she roughly pushed him away, opening the door for him to leave.

"Perhaps one day you will learn that tempting demons is more dangerous than you'll ever imagine, and yet, even then, I'm sure you won't stop playing with fire, for you are a greedy little Kitten, desperate for attention." the man grabbed her chin, raising it, moving so close to her that she could feel his lips brushing against her, and the chilling breath shuddering her very core. "Before I leave, and wish you pleasant dreams, I will give you a little insight..." he inched even closer, whispering into her ear the words of the devil himself. "Devouring isn't the only way of tasting one's appetising soul." his voice was sending chills down her spine as his thumb trailed seductively across her bottom lip, hinting at a most anticipated kiss.

No matter how much her body betrayed her, she still couldn't deny how much she enjoyed every interaction she had with the demon - She truly felt alive, aflame with emotions of all kinds - And as a spoiled human, of course, she craved more. And she was going to get more, even if it meant teasing the miserable demon into losing any sort of self-restraint.

"Don't forget, Sebastian, teasing can only get you so far. When it's too much, however... I wonder how will you behave? Will you be able to control yourself... Or will the temptation be too strong, even for you, and you'll give in, fall to your knees before me, and beg for just one more little lick~?" the woman dared get an inch closer, their noses touching, their breathes getting lost on each other's skin - Yet Katrina disallowed the man from replying, or even acting any more to his flaming desires - As she pushed him out of the room. "For your sake, I hope you dream of me tonight." she waved her finger in mock-goodbye, before slamming the door shut in his face.

Sebastian was right with his wish however. Katrina slept very well, and dreamt even better that night.

< Previous Chapter

Next Chapter >

#demon standards #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x oc #kuroshitsuji imagine #black butler #black butler x oc #black butler x reader #black butler imagine #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x oc #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis imagine #sebastian michaelis x katrina raymond

8 notes · View notes