#Sebastian hates the color orange btw... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yan-lorkai · 1 year ago

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*vibrating in excitement for platonic yanderes*

Ok, so I haven't watched black butler in years, imma re-watch it soon tho, so if none of this makes sense it's cause my memories shit and you can just ignore this lol

Anyway, here's my idea/request, Obv platonic yandere Ciel with a young reaper reader (14-16)? Like maybe they meet through Grell who mentors the lil reaper. Or maybe like a young ghost reader, he meets during an investigation or smth.

Your free to pick which one obv, anyway. I hope you are having a wonderful day luv, make sure to eat and stay hydrated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Lemon, I made you wait a little but I finally finished this request hehe, despite having changed it a little and distorted some historical facts. Funfact: Ouija boards were created in 1891, but for the sake of this fic let's all ignore that Ciel was born in 1875; btw yesterday was his birthday. Congratulations Ciel <33. Also, many people have a hc that his real name has something to do with stars, hence the nickname present in the fic. Having said all that, I hope you enjoy Lemon, I loved writing this! Happy reading everyone!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, spoiler about Ciel's brother in case nobody knows about it, ouija board and some typos probably!

Ciel likes to watch the sky. He likes to watch how the clouds race to overtake each other, he likes to watch the sun dancing alone in its place, twirling its colorful skirt of orange, yellow and pink during the hours that pass until finally the moon takes its place.

Quiet moments like this now, where he just sits in his armchair, his work all done and Sebastian far away, is when he can think about the things he's lost. But also the ones he won. If Sebastian had any knowledge about such thoughts, Ciel would certainly be subjected to his jokes and mockery.

The demon, while bound by the contract, could still make fun of his little master and he knew exactly how to embarrass the young lord. But Sebastian didn't need to know how the boy thinks about his twin brother, his parents, the employees and his childhood friend, Y/n; If they were alive now they would be maybe thirteen or fourteen, just like him and his brother. It was a fateful day, indeed.

The murder, the cult, Ciel hates remembering it, but he doesn't know how to let it all go. He's a child and there's no one he can ask for help - even if there was, perhaps his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't ask for help when he was kidnapped, he didn't ask for help when he went through countless assassination attempts, nor did he ask for help with difficult tasks that the queen assigned him. He was the Phantomhive heir, the family's leader, he couldn't just simply ask for help.

The count narrows his blue eyes at the brooding darkness that has settled in his office, counting how many grains of sand fall into the hourglass and how long he has left in peace before Sebastian shows up to annoy him.

Maybe fifteen minutes.

With enough time for the boy to put his small plan into action, he pulled a wooden board from one of the drawers and placed it on the table. Ciel, by and large, was not superstitious, but recent events had left him puzzled. Moreover, he had a demon as his butler, a boy with super strength as his gardener, a sniper as his maid, and a soldier as his cook. In any case, he had even encountered death gods.

Therefore, if he suspected that the presence lingering over his shoulders while he worked or the entity hiding his items and making them appear in different places was something to be investigated, then he would investigate until his doubts were cleared. The giggles and whispers were becoming unsettling. Of course, he heard voices, but they were the voices of occultists, screams and cries from when they died at the hands of Sebastian.

But this particular voice was incredibly irritating and almost familiar.

Ciel scanned the wooden surface, wondering if he was a fool for buying it. The boy was almost certain that Sebastian knew about the board, but he decided not to comment; the butler had been rather distant since they returned from London that morning. Ciel didn't mind, quickly reading the rules and holding the pointer in his hands, trying to see something through it.

There was nothing… yet.

Ciel laid the pointer on the board and sighed, placing his fingers on it, ready to start. He hadn't said anything yet, but an aura already seemed to completely envelop his office. Or maybe he was anxious; he couldn't tell.

"Is there anyone there?" Ciel murmured, his firm voice echoing in the silent room.

For several moments, nothing happened. He really didn't expect anything to happen, judging this whole thing as something foolish that only became popular because of the horror stories that circulated in cities. He stared at the board intently, each letter in cursive, every mystical symbol adorning it, waiting for a response that would satisfy him. Impatiently, he repeated the question once more.

"Is there anyone there?" He looked at the pointer and then around. "If there is, give me a sign."

This time, the pointer began to move slowly across the board as if the entity on the other side was drowsy, gliding from one letter to another with a calmness that Ciel himself didn't possess. Ciel watched with intensity, his expression impassive. But inside, a strange feeling took hold of him.

It was real, after all. As real as shinigamis or Sebastian. He stifled another sigh in his throat.

"Who is there?" He asked, the words leaving his lips with determination.

Who behind the veil was tormenting him, holding on to him tightly so as not to be pulled into the forgetfulness of eternal sleep. He put more force on the pointer as if everything depended on the answer he would receive.

The letters came together to form words, and Ciel remained focused, but a hint of skepticism was present in his gaze when the words spelled out a name. Your first and last name.

"Y/N?" He wondered aloud.

Ciel may have lost a lot, but he also gained a lot. He gained another family, gained new friends allies, gained a new chance.

And yet… He hadn't gained you back. Or had he?

For a second, he let the pointer rest on the board, feeling a heavy sensation settle in his chest as he thought about the days when you used to stay by his side when he was bedridden with asthma, telling him your silly stories and jokes, all while holding his hand and looking tenderly at him. You were his best friend. And he missed you a lot.

And now you were here. You were here.

He placed his finger on the pointer again, still feeling doubtful if it was really you or some other spirit. Confidently, he asked something that only you knew. "What was the nickname that only you called me, and why?"

The nickname you used for him when it was just the two of you. Not for his brother, not for Ciel. If it was really you there, you would notice the small differences, as you did when you were alive.

The pointer moved, taking with each movement a beat of the young earl's heart. One by one, the letters formed a nickname forgotten by time and bitter memories of the only Phantomhive still wandering through this tedious world.

"Pleiades, that's what I used to call you." There was a pause, and Ciel felt his entire body trembling with the confirmation that yes, it was you on the other side. He straightened up in his chair, trying to show that he was calm — little did he know that you could perceive how surprised he was.

And you would tease him about it later.

"Just like your hair, they are blue, an optical phenomenon caused by the dispersion of light in the Earth's atmosphere." You explained, nodding as if he could see you. Ciel rolled his eyes but almost unconsciously smiled.

"I see you remain a know-it-all." He teased.

And you stuck your tongue out at him, moving your arms to make the chair he was sitting in slide backward. Ciel's cheeks immediately turned pink as a little yelp escaped his lips. He hadn't expected you to have more tricks up your sleeve, but soon he regained his composure and cleared his throat, watching you move the pointer.

"One of us has to be clever," You chuckled. "Obviously, I'm the smart friend."

Ciel let out a long sigh. "Your knowledge is all random, though."

You shrugged. What importance did any kind of knowledge have now that you were dead? You said nothing for a few minutes, running your fingers over the wood of the board and the supposedly mystical symbols. Being dead was boring, different for everyone, and you weren't even sure how your soul managed to escape the shinigamis for so long.

But you had one certainty; you were stuck in this world for some reason still. In many stories, there would be an unfulfilled desire or a want, and you had several, but you had made peace with the fact that you could no longer fulfill them. So what was still keeping you there?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Ciel nodded, gesturing with his hand for you to continue.

"Can you free me? Can you invite me out?"

Ciel had already broken some rules, especially the one that said he couldn't play alone and that the player should have a form of spiritual protection, whatever they had faith in — a crucifix, a talisman, anything. Ciel, however, had a mark on his eye, so you assumed that nullified this rule. Did that thing serve as a protective mark, though?

The boy remained silent for some time, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of taking such action. To bind a spirit to himself, to the world of the living, when he knew he should let you rest in peace, when he knew such agreements were dangerous.

But he was still the selfish earl who liked to monopolize your time; he was still that same sickly boy who needed a friend. And no one else could be his friend but you. Only you understood him, after all.

He nodded.

It was foolishness, but not even Sebastian could have stopped him. He pressed the pointer harder, desperate for it to work, but of course, it would work if you were already in front of him, the dead proof that there could be life in death.

"I invite you, Y/n, to leave this board."

A warm feeling flooded your chest, as if your skin were kissed by the sun again after so long. You savored it for a moment, smiling, feeling strangely more alive than before, and withdrew your hand from the pointer.

"Can you see me?" You asked, your voice hoarse from not speaking for months.

But Ciel didn't seem to understand, not yet at least. So you touched his cheek as you did when congratulating him on a chess victory, and he felt it, his eyes widening as he assimilated the situation. You figured that now that you touched him, he could hear you, so you asked the question again.

And slowly, he nodded. You could only imagine what he thought of your bloodstained shirt and disheveled appearance, so different from the one you once proudly preserved. Times change, and so do you, and you were like this now, a lost ghost that not even death seemed to want.

You smiled, squeezing both of his cheeks and watching him shudder. It was good to see him, good to be back, even if nothing would be the same. Nothing could ever be the same again, but being able to touch him again after so long, you didn't hesitate to hug him.

You were together again.

#yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere black butler #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere ciel #ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader #yandere ciel x reader #yandere ciel phantomhive x reader #platonic yandere #mutuals requests

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sebastianshaw · 4 years ago

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(Anon requested Shaw and Lourdes getting married for Fanfic Friday so here it is! Sorry, it cuts off premature because I ran out of time/ideas but I hope you like what’s there! BTW, in Spain, the bride doesn’t just toss the bouquet, she gives it to someone specific of her choosing, so that’s why there’s mention of that.) It was happening. It was actually happening. Years of coutrship, months of planning, and ridiculous amounts of money, and it was happening. Sebastian was sweating profusely under the white collar of his tuxedo shirt, and it wasn’t because of the Spanish summer air. They had chosen to do this Lourdes’ home country of Barcelona. That way, her family wouldn’t have to travel, and Sebastian had no family, so that was a non-issue on his side of things. The only downside was, well, her family, but while Lourdes was mentally preparing to run interference every time her parents spoke to him, the soon-to-be-in-laws were actually far from Sebastian’s mind---he had far too many OTHER worries coursing through it like whitewater rapids all racing in different directions at once, pumped out continuously by the lightning-fast pace of his heart beating. The specific location was La Baronia, 16th century country stone villa with an almost fairytale architecture, surrounded by Mediterranean woodland. The place was so peaceful that even Sebastian had been calm for a moment when he arrived today, before anyone else had. He’d seen it before, of course, he had gone over every possible venue with as much care as he’d ever given to any machine or project, more even, seeking absolute perfection for Lourdes---Lourdes herself mostly cared if it was simply ‘pretty’ which Sebastian had learned was a fairly capricious and nebulous set of standards at best, but in Lourdes case he had, over the years, assembled a mental catalogue of all the things she had ever given a pleasing look towards, and thus methodically calculated the exact set of stipulations that her ideal wedding local should meet. His own preferences were irrelevant to the matter--he had none. This was HER day. He was getting married to her, and that was everything he needed. He just had to make it worthy of HER. Luckily, Lourdes was a very involved bride, taking delight in planning all the aesthetic and social aspects---the flowers, the colors, the seating, and so on. It was mostly the practical aspects she left to Sebastian---his speciality. He’d still, of course, double-triple-quadruple-quintuple checked his every decision with her, to the point she was nearly exasperated. Nearly. Lourdes could never ACTUALLY be exasperated with his pursuit of perfection for her. “I know I’m marrying an engineer,” she always said. He hadn’t been an engineer in a long time, he’d made his real money in management, in business, but he still had the engineer mindset---making everything just right. Especially where it COUNTED MOST. Of course, tradition dictated that some things were out of BOTH their hands, and Lourdes WANTED a traditional Spanish wedding...part of which was that the best man was the one who picked out the bride’s bouquet. Luckily, Harry Leland had been informed---multiple times---by Sebastian that Lourdes liked lilies, did you get that Harry, she likes white lilies, the Calla ones and yes Sebastian I heard you the first five times--- What if he hadn’t though? What if he got roses instead? They had arranged for rose petals and orange blossoms to be thrown instead of rice, what if somehow he mixed that up? What if the florist got mixed up? What if the food got mixed up? He should have checked, checked, and checked again--- “Sebastian?” Tessa asked. She was his only guest besides Harry. And technically, she wasn’t his guest. He hadn’t invited anyone besides Harry, not even her. It was nothing against her. He just...hadn’t wanted anything of the Hellfire Club here today. But Lourdes had nonetheless invited Tessa and Emma, though only Tessa had come. “I need her there, Sebastian,” Lourdes had said, “I have to give the bouquet to someone. If I give it to one of my sisters, the other will hate me and her. If I give it to one of my friends, the rest all hate me and her. This way? I’m not choosing one over the others. They’ll all still hate me for not picking them, of course, but at least they won’t hate EACH OTHER.” “Well, they might hate me instead,” Sebastian had offered helpfully, “Since they’ll assume I invited her.” “Oh, querido, they already hate you,” Lourdes had replied fondly. It was a joke, of course, but, well, not untrue. Her sisters found him fascinating, and her friends were of mixed opinions, but her parents...well, they’d never quite approved. No amount of money that he made could ever transform him from a low-class atheist American into an old-money Catholic Spaniard like them, after all. And really they were right. He wasn’t--- “Sebastian?” Tessa repeated, and tugged a bit on his sleeve this time, taking him out of his trance of trepidation. They were thus far the only ones here, so it wasn’t a big deal for him to be in a daze, but she thought it best for him to get ahold of himself BEFORE the guests got here. But he was so nervous he couldn’t get out of his own head, he thought he was going to throw up, he--- “Sebastian?” It wasn’t Tessa this time. “Lourdes!” he yelled, and turned his head immediately, putting an arm over his eyes. He heard her confused laugh, “What are you---oh dios mio, querido, you never believed a single superstition in your life and NOW suddenly you can’t see me before the wedding?” “Yes!” he replied, still shielding his eyes, “This is IMPORTANT! You’re important!” (Sorry this is where I stopped! But I hope what was there was nice! Don’t worry, the whole thing goes off without a hitch!)

#fic #writing #wedding #out of shirt

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