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rambleonwaywardson · 1 month

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Clegan Olympics AU - "Pour Toujours"

Masterpost Read on AO3 - Sous Le Ciel de Paris

Author's note: This will be the last chapter of the main story, but it's longer than the others :). I will add an epilogue when I can get around to it, and I might continue doing drabbles when I have the time because I love them so much. For now, thank you so much to everyone who has read and supported this little AU throughout this Olympic season. It's been a lot of fun, and I hope you've fallen in love with these versions of the characters as much as I have.

Let's get on with some much needed damage control!

---

Believe it or not, John knows he fucked up. And he knows he fucked up bad.

So he doesn’t really expect anyone to pick up when he calls Marge the day after the equestrian team was scheduled to land back stateside. He called Gale twice last night and got no answer. He knows he deserves that.

He also knows he deserves the irritated “What do you want” when Marge answers her phone, but he’s shocked to hear someone’s voice on the other end of the line at all.

“I fucked up,” he stammers out.

She laughs mirthlessly. “Oh you figured that out did you?”

He tries desperately to explain what happened even though he knows it sounds weak. Even though he knows it doesn’t even begin to make up for the heartbreak he caused Gale. The heartbreak he caused himself. He tries to explain the way things ended in Paris, that he panicked, that he couldn’t think or breathe, that he felt paralyzed by the way everything crashed down around him and he was out of energy to hold it up. He tries to tell her, “It wasn’t just Gale. I wasn’t talking to anyone, Marge.”

That’s when she stops him, and he doesn’t know if it’s because she’s fed up with him and his stupidity or because those were the words that made her believe him. He knows the equestrians continued hanging out with the gymnasts long after he left. He’s glad for that, really. He’s happy that this ragtag bunch of Olympians found a lasting friendship with each other that would survive with or without him. He is. But he also wonders if they talked about him. He wonders what they said.

He wonders if he was simply the villain in this story, or if anyone came to his defense. He doesn’t know which possibility hurts more.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” she tells him. She’s angry, but he hears sympathy in her voice, and that gives him the smallest bit of hope for fixing the mess he left in his wake.

“He won’t answer me.” Texts. Calls. Nothing.

“I know.”

Bucky nods and bites at his lip nervously. Of course Gale tells Marge about it. She probably knows every single thing that happened. She’s probably the one that had to pick up the pieces, listen to Gale wonder whether or not he should keep trying or simply let Bucky go.

“Can you tell me where to find him?”

“You did to him exactly what he told you he was afraid of,” she accuses, instead of answering him. The frustration rises in her voice once again, and Bucky knows all he can do is sit there and hear it. He’ll take the blows, because they’re entirely his to take. He knows he deserves worse.

“You let him get close to you,” Marge admonishes him. “You let him love you. God, John, he was so in love with you. Then when things got a little hard, you asked him for sex one more time and then you fucking left. You left, just like he was so worried you would, and you told him you’d call. But you didn’t. You just fucking disappeared. Do you know what that did to him?”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. Because he knows. He knows. And it breaks his heart to think of Gale hurting and confused and blindsided like that. It breaks his heart to know he caused it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, but it comes out so quiet he doesn’t know if she hears him.

“He was sitting there, wondering what he did wrong, John. Wondering why he wasn’t good enough. Not understanding why you left. Not understanding if any of it was fucking real.” Marge scoffs. “I saw you together. Even I thought you would be good for him. And then you fucked it all up in the blink of an eye.”

“I know,” Bucky says, stronger this time. He wonders if Marge can hear the way his voice is thick with regret, tight with pain, the way it shakes because he wants nothing more than to put the pieces back together like they were before he blew it all up in their faces. “I hate myself for it, Marge. I never meant to hurt him, I was just so… fuck. I… I love him, Marge. You have to believe me. I love him.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Why?

That question rings in Bucky’s ears, resounding through his empty apartment like a ghost knocking on his walls. Why did he do it?

Why?

He sighs and puts his head in his hand, because he’s trying to work through it himself. He’s been trying to work through it ever since he left, and he keeps coming up short because there’s just so much. Too much to put together into any coherent explanation. Too much to sort through in his anxious angry brain. And none of it is an excuse and yet all of it is a reason.

He opens his mouth to speak, to try to explain, but before he can, Marge cuts him off. “Don’t answer that.” She sounds as defeated as he does, sad and angry and hurt. Tired. He wonders how much damage control she’s had to run in the last week. It makes him feel sick. “I’m so pissed at you,” she all but growls. “But I understand, too.”

Understand?

How can she understand when he barely does?

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut against tears that are threatening to break free. He has never in his life been a crying type, but he’s barely been sleeping. He’s eating like shit, his knee is killing him with every move he makes, and his anxiety is at a peak. He misses Gale so much, and he’s filled with so much regret that it threatens to tear him in half, and he thinks that might be better than sitting here in this depressed sludge of his mind for one more moment.

He takes a deep breath in a pathetic attempt to control the nervous energy coursing through him. He glances at the medal boxes just sitting on his kitchen table. He hasn’t figured out where to display them, yet, so they sit there and taunt him with the globally celebrated feats that he might never be capable of again. Sure, they called him the greatest male gymnast of all time. But if he goes out now, like this, he’ll be nothing but a washed up has-been who stood on top of the world stage for one golden moment.

Beside one of the boxes is a photograph – a legitimate, printed photograph. The one of him and Gale on that last good night before his rings final, when they sat cuddled together on his bed in the Village with their friends gathered in celebration. They each have a medal around their necks, Gale’s arm wrapped around him, holding him close. They look so happy. Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever been that happy in his entire life.

Curt, in dramatic fashion, had the photo printed when he came home after closing, and he left it here for Bucky to stare at, in hopes it would remind him of what he needed to do.

It worked.

“Where can I find him?” Bucky asks again. He presses his fingers to his lips and sniffs quietly, hoping she can’t hear it. “Please, Marge. I need to find him.”

Marge hesitates for a long moment, and Bucky fully expects her to hang up on him. He wouldn’t blame her. But then she sighs. He can picture her pinching the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, gathering all her mental strength. “I’m going to help you for one reason and one reason only,” she states. “He has never been as happy as he was with you. So I’ll give you one chance to get your head out of your goddamn ass.”

She gives him an address that he scrambles to write down, not even giving him a chance to repeat it back, like she’s decided that if he didn’t bother to listen carefully enough the first time then he’s not worth the trouble after all. He’s about to thank her profusely when she says, “Come today or not at all.” And she hangs up.

He calls Curt immediately.

Curtis Biddick is the only person that Bucky has interacted with since coming home other than their coach and their team doctor. And that’s because Curt didn’t give him a choice. Because Curt knows he’s a goddamn self-destructive idiot that needs to be defused every hour on the hour so he doesn’t implode his own life. He stayed in Paris through closing, even though he did offer to go home with Bucky (to which Bucky said “fuck no” because he was not about to take this time away from his best friend).

Curt texted and called him every day all the way from France, reminding him to eat or ice or heat or drink water. He sent him random shit to try to make him laugh, asked how he was doing, if he’d checked in with his therapist (to which he said no and Curt forced him to schedule an appointment right there and then). And if Bucky didn’t answer his calls, he’d call their coach to see if Bucky was in the gym. If he was, he’d insist on talking to him, and if he wasn’t he’d tell their coach to drop by Bucky’s apartment.

Bucky doesn’t think he deserves that kind of concern either, and he told Curt as much. But Curt looked like he wanted to slap him in the face through their facetime call, and he told Bucky that he may be stupid, but he still deserves someone to care about him.

His therapist says the same thing.

Bucky can’t really comprehend that. He doesn’t see where in this equation he deserves any kindness.

Even so, Curt was the one to confront Bucky about what he did to Gale. He was the one to tell him how much it destroyed the young equestrian, leaving him adrift and despondent. “He wasn’t the same the rest of the week,” he said. “Tried to hide it I think, but Benny said he was a wreck every night. Had to be dragged outta the room some days. Lost interest in a lotta things that he was used to doin’ with you, literally anything in the Village.”

Curt was the one to emphasize the fact that everyone else was there to pick up the pieces of Bucky’s mess when he couldn’t be bothered. And he was the one to yell and rage at Bucky and tell him he was being ridiculous and selfish and flat out stupid. When he arrived home, the first thing he did was stop by Bucky’s apartment, thrust that photograph at him, and say, “John Clarence Egan, quit the goddamn pouting and call your boyfriend right fucking now.”

So Bucky did. He called Gale right there while Curt watched. Gale just didn’t pick up.

And why would he? Why should he? After days of nothing, in what world would Gale be won over by a single phone call? Bucky may not really know what to do about this whole love thing, but he knows it doesn’t come cheap.

So now, even though he doesn’t owe Bucky a thing and Bucky probably owes him his life in exchange, Curt agrees to drop everything and drive Bucky the hour and a half to the address Marge gave him since the doctor wouldn't clear him to drive. “You don’t deserve me,” Curt tells him when he shows up at Bucky’s door for about the fifth time in two days. Bucky wholeheartedly agrees, and then Curt pulls him into a tight hug, and Bucky thinks maybe things will be okay.

He keeps zoning out on the way there, thinking about all of it. The event finals, the sprain, the doctor telling him he might be done. He thinks about Gale’s face when Bucky said he was leaving, the way it fell even as he tried not to show how much those words hurt. He thinks about Gale trying to make light of the situation, and Bucky just… didn’t. He thinks about Gale texting him with less and less frequency because Bucky couldn’t dig himself out of his hole. The guilt hangs over him like a storm cloud.

He thinks about Gale, and their time together in Paris, like a montage in a romance movie set to sappy music. Meeting him on the plane, seeing that beautiful blonde haired angel glance over at him so shyly. He thinks about the way they fell into each other’s lives like they were always meant to be there, like they were made for one another. He thinks about nights spent walking together under the beautiful Paris sky. Taking silly pictures and videos everywhere they went. Standing with his arms wrapped around Gale on top of the Eiffel Tower, looking out over a city of lights.

He thinks about Gale’s arms around him, the feeling of his soft hair rubbing against his cheek when he buried his face in Bucky’s neck. He thinks about the sound of Gale’s heartbeat as they lay together in bed, little moments where nothing mattered but the two of them. He thinks about Gale’s little half smiles, and the times he let himself laugh so freely because of something stupid Bucky said. He thinks about the way he’d look at Bucky like he was an amusing puzzle he had to figure out, but also like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever set eyes on.

He thinks about Gale until it makes him want to cry again, because what on Earth has he done?

“You were right, Curt,” he says out of nowhere when they’re about 15 minutes out. “I think I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

Curt reaches over to pat his knee. He tells him that all they can do is try.

Bucky knows that none of it can justify what he did, but he was a complete mess after event finals.

“It’s time to start thinking about what comes next, John,” the doctor told him that day in Paris, after he won gold on rings. He won gold, and in the same breath he fucked up his knee again. He was told his career might be over. Again.

“What do you mean?” he asked, even though he knew full well what she meant and it made him feel physically sick, the world tilting off-kilter around him, the ground simply falling out from beneath his feet.

“We have to see what the damage is, but we have to prepare for the possibility that your knee may never be strong enough to be competitive again. I’m sorry, John.”

Bucky felt like he was wading through quicksand after that, a ticking time bomb strapped to his back, weighing him down, counting down the seconds until self-destruction, except he didn’t know when that would be. He was getting kicked out of the Village anyways, since his events were over. The doctor told him he needed an MRI when he got back to the states, and he couldn’t stand waiting for it. He couldn’t stand the idea of trying to keep up with the energy of Paris when he couldn’t even walk and this possibility of an end was looming over him everywhere he went.

He felt hollow.

Broken.

Scared.

He doesn’t like to feel scared. He doesn’t like to feel broken. He needed that MRI asap because he thought it was the only thing that could stop making him feel those things.

Looking around the Village that day, he saw all the athletes celebrating and walking and running and biking and laughing… and he was stumbling his way back to his building alone, on crutches, trying not to fall apart. His swollen knee throbbed with every hobbled step.

Who is he, if he isn’t a gymnast? What’s left for him to do?

The pain made him feel sick and the anxiety made him feel sick and the world swirling around him with the bright colors of the Paris Olympics made him feel sick. And then there was Gale. He wanted to see Gale, needed to see Gale. But his brain was all fucked at that point and he couldn’t think straight and he was so damn angry at everything.

At life. At the sport. At the doctors. At these other gymnasts and athletes who didn’t have to face a premature end to their careers for the second time. But mostly, he was angry at himself. He hated himself more than anything else.

What is he worth, if he’s not a gymnast? To the world? To other people?

To Gale?

So many people before only wanted him for his body or for his fame. So they could say they slept with World Champion gymnast John Egan, or that they went out with an Olympic medalist, like it gave them bragging rights to fuck an athlete that they didn’t actually bother to get to know. Like he was nothing more than a name and a piece of ass with a sweet smile and a few medals on his wall.

He went along with it for a while. And over time, he started to believe that maybe that was all he was worth after all. Maybe he didn’t get that happy ending. Maybe he was married to his sport and everything else had to be secondary. Maybe he wasn’t worth getting to know. Maybe he didn’t deserve someone good, someone who loved him for him.

Maybe he deserved all the bullshit he got.

But that’s the thing: he knows Gale isn’t like that. He knows what Gale gave him was real and whole and for all the right reasons. He knows Gale cared about him in a way that no one else ever did. He knows it in his bones, better than he’s known anything in his entire life. Gale is the absolute antithesis of everything and everyone that spent years tearing Bucky down, and for the first time in Bucky’s life, he actually felt like he might get a happy ending after all.

But after finals, Bucky was so lost in his own twisted mind, his own past, his own pain, that it didn’t matter what, rationally, he knew to be true.

As far as he could tell, if he wasn’t a gymnast, he wasn’t anything.

It broke his heart to tell Gale he was leaving. It broke his heart to say goodbye. He had to walk away as fast as he could so Gale wouldn’t see him cry, hear the quiet sob that wrenched its way out of his chest. Because he didn’t want to leave. It was the last thing he wanted. But he’d already decided he had to.

When he made it home, he went to the gym once a day to see the kids there, talk to his coach, and check in with the doctor. Other than those few hours, he didn’t talk to a single person. He went quiet, just slipped away into the darkness. All his friends were still in Paris, living it up without him anyway. He answered Curt’s texts when he could stand the guilt, picked up the phone because he knew Curt would just send their coach to bang on his door if he didn’t.

He stared at his phone every time he got a message from Gale, and he couldn’t bring himself to answer.

And even now, he doesn’t know why. Everything just hurt too damn much and nothing made sense and maybe, somewhere, he really, legitimately thought Gale would be better off without him. He thought he didn’t deserve someone as beautiful and lovely as Gale Cleven. Because the truth is, not calling Gale hurt more than calling him would have, but maybe he deserved the hurt.

He stayed alone in his apartment for most of the day every day. It’s a walk-up – not exactly easy to get in and out of on crutches. He ordered takeout for dinner every night because he couldn’t be bothered to cook and didn’t want to deal with the hassle of going out, and he didn’t eat much other than that. Mostly, he moped around, agonizing over his past and his future and debating over whether or not he should call Gale or if he’d fucked it up too bad at that point. All he wanted was to fall asleep in Gale’s arms, but he knew he didn’t deserve it.

He slept a lot anyways, avoiding the life that tried to continue on around him.

He got drunk one night as he watched the Olympics on TV and scrolled social media. Looking at all the posts about his re-injury and all the posts about his disappearance. All the posts wondering what happened and all the posts agonizing over a suspected “Clegan” breakup. He woke up sick the next morning. Didn’t do that again because, if nothing else, he refused to dip back into the way he went off the rails after losing his sister.

His sister. Who would be so disappointed in him, if she could see what had transpired in the last several days. His sister, whose death he still blames himself for. The only person other than Curt who ever knew how to ground him. Who made him so afraid of losing people he loved, so afraid that the people he loved would leave.

He also knows she’d smack him and tell him to get his act together.

The day of closing ceremonies, he got his MRI results back. A full MCL tear. Getting that news helped Bucky to think clearly for the first time since he came home. It provided perspective on the situation, gave him something solid to wrap his head around after days of everything floating about as a “what if, what then.”

An MCL tear. Of the outcomes that were possible, this one is among the most manageable. The team doctor remains concerned that his knee may never be stable enough to compete. But she also told him that, if he lets his knee heal and sticks with a strict recovery regimen, it’s possible he’ll come back as strong as ever. Not guaranteed, but possible.

Having that news gave him something to focus on, something to hope for. It helped get his feet back on solid ground, shoved breath back into his lungs. It finally slowed the way his head had been spinning like a nausea-inducing carnival ride ever since he left Paris.

During closing ceremonies, he pulled out the Team USA outfit and put it on – that badass racing jacket that he’d really been looking forward to wearing as he walked with Gale and his friends into the Stade de France. He took a picture of himself in it to post on social media, saying he may be at home, but he’s still celebrating his country with pride. He even managed to watch the ceremony on TV, and he saw his friends walk out into the stadium in the exact same outfit. His whole team was there – Curt, Croz, Alex, Brady – along with Benny, Marge… and Gale.

He froze, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen, when he saw Gale walk out, the camera focused right on him. He looked like an angel as he smiled and laughed, his hair messily styled and his eyes bright. That racing jacket fit him perfectly, and Bucky knew they would’ve been the hottest couple in that whole stadium if he’d stayed.

He wishes he’d stayed.

The whole world fell in love with Gale Cleven this summer, but not a single person fell as hard as Bucky did.

Bucky thought about texting Gale, telling him he looked great and he was glad to see him having fun. But then he realized how long it had been, how long he’d spent not texting because he couldn’t get his shit together. And he realized that Gale looked legitimately happy out there without him, and maybe it was better for Bucky just to… not. Better for everyone to move on.

And then Curt came home and absolutely fumed at him over his stupidity. He told Bucky that Gale was heartbroken, that even though he made the best of the ceremony, he wanted nothing more than for Bucky to text. That he wanted nothing more than to make sure he was okay. That as much as he was hurt, he was so goddamn worried, too. And that bit of information made Bucky shatter again.

He fucked it all up, and he is painfully aware of all of it. He regrets every second. Not that any of it is an excuse. But that’s what happened.

“Bucky?”

Bucky realizes that Curt is saying his name, and he blinks and shakes his head, trying to snap out of it. He realizes that he’s sitting in the passenger seat of Curt’s car, gripping his good knee so tightly with his fingers that his knuckles are bright white. He looks at Curt.

“We’re here,” Curt says. He motions forward, through the windshield, and Bucky follows his gaze.

They’re parked in front of a massive horse barn with a sign out front that reads Harding Eventing. Underneath, in smaller lettering, it says A U.S. Equestrian Facility. Lush green fields stretch out across the Earth on all sides, lined with black wooden double fences. To their left is another barn structure with windows lining the walls from end to end. The doors are wide open to reveal an indoor arena, a few horses and riders working inside. Beyond that is a perfectly maintained outdoor arena, enclosed by a low white fence with a blue judge’s box at the far end. Behind where they’ve parked the car, there’s a cross country course that stretches out further than Bucky can see.

The farm is buzzing with activity, horses being ridden around the grounds or walked in and out of the barn, grounds staff doing maintenance work on fences or gardens, people shuttling equipment inside from the trailers that had yet to be fully unpacked after arriving home from the airport yesterday. Bucky spots Kenny, carrying a covered dressage saddle inside that he presumes is Gale’s.

Bucky opens the passenger side door and steps out onto the gravel driveway, taking it all in with a deep breath that smells like hay and sweet grain. Curt comes around from the other side and hands him his crutches.

“John Egan,” a vaguely familiar – and very displeased – voice calls. “The heartbreaker.”

Bucky looks up in time to see Neil Harding sauntering over to them from the indoor ring, a scowl on his face. Bucky tries to hold his head high and stand up straight, but the crutches make it difficult. He doesn’t smile in greeting, because he’s sure Chick knows everything.

He would be right. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kick you off my property right now,” Chick says. He stops in front of Bucky, standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest in a way Bucky can’t. It makes Bucky feel small for once in his life. Chick glances at his brace and crutches, but there’s not a lick of sympathy on his face. Not that he was expecting any.

“Marge told me to come,” he replies.

Chick works his jaw as he stares at him, then glances at Curt. “Gale’s not here. You’re gonna have to wait.”

Bucky frowns. “Where is he?”

Chick motions to the woods beyond the edge of the farm property. “Somewhere out there. Been gone all morning.” He narrows his eyes at Bucky, his voice pitching low. “That’s what he does, you know. When he’s upset.”

Bucky nods, because Gale told him that before. Told him that when he can’t stand the world anymore, when everything hurts too much, he takes his horse, and he goes out into the wild unknown. Just like he did as a kid growing up in the mountains. Just him and his horse and the Earth beneath their feet. No worries. No pain. Just the breath in his lungs and the sounds of the woods.

He’s been out there all day because of Bucky.

“How long has he been gone?”

Harding checks his watch. It’s 1pm. “About five hours now.”

Oh. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Harding shakes his head and shrugs. “Never know with him. You can ask Marge. She might have an idea.” He points into the barn and watches as Bucky and Curt make their way towards it. “John?” He says. Bucky turns back around, resting his weight on one crutch. “I’ll let him decide, because I know how much he loved you. But know that if I had it my way, you wouldn’t step foot on this property again.”

Bucky nods tersely, meeting Chick’s gaze. He’ll fight for Gale as much as he can, but in the end, if Gale doesn’t want him, he’ll go. No matter how much it hurts.

He turns to go into the barn.

Marge is standing against the door of one of the stalls in the middle of the long aisleway, chatting with someone on the other side. She looks up when she hears the tell-tale clomping of Bucky’s crutches on the rubber-matted floor, and she walks down the aisle to meet them halfway. She offers him a weak smile, and he feels relieved to have someone here not acting like they hate him, even though he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

“Hey, Marge!” Curt says excitedly, walking up behind Bucky. “Long time no see.” As in, a couple days.

Marge smiles a bit brighter at Curt and pulls him in for a hug. Then she glances over at Bucky, and she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Come here,” she says. He swallows and frowns, looking at her skeptically, but she holds her arms out, waiting, and he hops forward. Awkwardly, he wraps one arm around her while trying not to hit her with the crutch. She doesn’t seem to care, though. She hugs him tight and whispers in his ear, “I’m pissed at you. But are you doing okay?”

“Could be better,” he whispers back, and she rubs his upper back comfortingly before letting him go.

When she steps away, Bucky realizes that Benny has stepped out of the stall she’d been standing next to, and he’s watching Marge hug him with distaste. Bucky nods to him. “Benny.”

Benny glares back, looking like he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. Or like he wants to generally stab John in the neck. Who can really say. Instead, he looks at Curt. “Hey! What’s up, man?”

I deserve that, Bucky thinks.

Marge takes pity on him, though and pulls him aside so Benny and Curt can talk. “Gale’s been out all day,” she tells him. “Brooding.”

“I know,” Bucky says quietly. “Chick told me.” Then a terrifying thought pops into his head. “How do you know if he’s safe?”

For half a second, the entire planet is going up in flames around him. If he loses one more person he loves because he was caught up in his own shit…

Marge puts a hand on his shoulder, though, seeing his panic. She pulls out her phone and opens an app, waving it at Bucky. “We have a ride tracker. We turn it on when one of us goes out on the trails. It tells me his location, and it senses if he falls or something so I can get him help.”

“Has that ever happened?” Bucky asks nervously.

“Once,” Marge shrugs. “He was fine, though. Fell off into the creek and broke a rib.” That… doesn’t make Bucky feel better. Marge points to Gale’s location on the app. “He’s heading home. I’d say 30 minutes, an hour at most, if he doesn’t decide to wander off somewhere else.”

—

Marge is kind enough to show Bucky around the immediate farm area – the barn and the indoor and outdoor arenas where they train and host the occasional event or dressage show. She even takes him into the tack room. “Basically that whole corner is Gale’s,” she says, motioning to a collection of saddle and bridle racks bolted into the wall in three-high columns. There’s two dressage saddles, two jump saddles, and even a western saddle. One of the racks sits empty, awaiting Gale’s return. Next to a cabinet full of saddle pads, polo wraps, and support boots, there’s an assortment of ribbons hanging on the wall, ranging in color and size, many of them pretty blue first places.

“Whoa.” Bucky looks around, eyes wide at the amount of no doubt expensive equipment, meticulously organized and near spotless. “I didn’t know he had all this.”

“Not that you deserve to know,” Marge says behind him. “But Chick took Gale in when we were in college. Gave him a place to live in exchange for farm work. Horses to learn on. Prospects to train. Everything he could need to succeed. We all ride here, but the place belongs to the two of them.”

Bucky runs a hand across one of the dressage saddles, which he recognizes from that day Gale rode for him. “I’m glad he has someone like that.” A father figure. Someone to learn from and go to for help, someone who can show him the way after he spent so long fearing his own father and having to figure this life out on his own. No wonder Chick looked like he wanted Bucky’s head on a pike.

As he looks at all of the ribbons on the wall, Bucky notices that, stuck to the cabinet of saddle pads and wraps beside him, there’s a number of photographs. All of them include Gale and one horse or another. One picture, newly taped up in the middle, is from Paris: Gale, Whiskey… and John. Together. Gale has a medal around his neck, and he’s laughing as Whiskey tries to play with it and Bucky kisses him on the cheek. It was taken by Kenny right after Gale's final jumping round.

Bucky lightly rubs a thumb over the photo, and Marge watches him, but she doesn’t say a word about it. Gale’s only been back for a day. And yet he chose to stick this up there, where he can see it every time he gets his tack. Even after what Bucky did to him.

Bucky feels so guilty, and at the same time, he feels butterflies in his stomach.

When he steps back again, Marge starts to ask if he wants to see the beginning of the cross-country course, but then she looks at his crutches and thinks better of it. She asks if he needs to sit, but he says no even though his knee is killing him.

So instead she takes him to Whiskey’s stall, which is marked with a brass plate engraved with the name “Hundred Proof.” There’s two pretty Olympic ribbons hanging on the outer wall along with a framed photo of Gale and Whiskey in front of Versailles. Someone, presumably Marge, taped two cut-out paper Olympic medals beside the ribbons, since Gale’s actual medals are no doubt being kept somewhere safe.

The mare seems to recognize Bucky, the only other living thing here that doesn’t hate his guts right now, and he’s grateful for it. She stretches her head through the open top half of her stall door and nuzzles his arm, making him laugh and apologize for not bringing muffins this time.

“Gale didn’t take her out with him?” he asks.

Marge shakes her head. “They all get a couple weeks off after the games. And Gale never takes her out in the woods for too long anyway. He wishes he could, but he can’t risk her getting hurt out there.”

Bucky tries to reach his hand up to scratch the mare’s nose without losing his balance on the crutches. When it’s just a bit too precarious, he carefully leans one of his crutches against the wall so he has free motion with one arm. Whiskey bumps his shoulder, as if to say, What the fuck did you do?

Bucky smiles sadly and closes his eyes as he pets the side of her face. “I’m sorry, girl,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.” He thinks about Gale, and the way he always goes to the horses when he’s upset. The way he tells them everything.

He wonders how much Whiskey knows, how much he’s told her, how many tears have been cried into that soft mane because of him. Or was Bucky not worth Gale’s tears?

Everyone keeps saying Gale was heartbroken when he left. Is that true?

Marge lets him stand there for a good while, just petting this horse that he at one point hoped would be a permanent fixture in his life. Gale once told him that horses are the best therapy, that they can absorb everything you’re feeling and just leech the pain away by their presence alone. It does make Bucky feel better, even as he feels the guilt enveloping him. I’m sorry, he thinks, over and over and over.

Then Marge tells him, “He’s back.”

They leave Whiskey’s stall and walk back out to the front of the barn, where sure enough, Bucky can see a horse and rider coming up the path from the woods beyond the outdoor ring. At first glance, he wouldn’t have known it was Gale, but as they come closer, a silhouette becoming real, he realizes he knows the set of those shoulders, the motion of those hips as the horse walks towards them.

Gale isn’t on a massive warmblood decked out in English tack. And he’s not dressed in the riding clothes Bucky is used to seeing him in – the tight riding pants and polo shirt cinched with a belt. Shiny black tall boots and a sleek Charles Owen helmet. Instead, he’s on a smaller gray horse in western tack with a saddle bag strapped to the back of the saddle, a water bottle jammed into the front pocket. He’s dressed in faded jeans, brown cowboy boots, and a white t-shirt that clings to his sweaty upper body. A black cowboy hat hides his face in shadow.

In any other circumstance, Bucky would be absolutely drooling over this look.

Even through the shadow, though, he can see the way Gale’s eyes narrow, the way he hesitates when he sees him standing there with Marge. He can see the moment the surprise shifts to anger. When he hops down off the horse and pulls the reins over her head, Bucky waves awkwardly anyways.

Gale looks at Marge. “You could’ve asked.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “You disappeared for the entire morning. He called.”

He looks at Bucky. “You called her?”

Bucky nods and opens his mouth to say something, but Gale puts a hand up to stop him. “I don’t wanna hear it, John.”

Bucky feels the little bit of hope that had been holding his heart together crack apart again. “Gale, I-”

“John, please.”

He hears the pain in Gale’s voice, and it kills him. He stands there, watching as this man he’s in love with walks right on past without a second glance, leading the little gray horse towards the barn. “Wait, can you…” But Gale won’t hear it, just keeps on walking.

“Gale, please.”

Nothing.

“I love you!” Bucky blurts out into the peaceful quiet of the farm, because if nothing else, he at least needs to speak that into the world. Gale stops, the mare halting beside him. Bucky goes on. “I love you so fucking much, Gale. And I-”

Gale takes his hat off and whips around. His face is angrier than Bucky’s ever seen in the few weeks they’ve known each other, and he points the hat at Bucky. “Don’t say that, John,” he warns. The mare jumps a bit beside him at the sudden motion, and the few people nearby try to act like they’re not watching them. Watching this train wreck, wondering what’s about to happen. “You don’t get to come here and say that to me. You don’t.”

“Gale,” Marge says calmly, stepping towards him.

Gale turns on her, still full of anger. But something in his expression fades into pure hurt. “Why did you let him come here?”

Marge reaches out and pushes away the hat that he’s pointing at her, and Bucky watches him deflate the littlest bit. Gale takes a deep breath as he puts the hat back on his head, and he puts his hand on the mare’s shoulder. He mutters an apology to her and strokes her neck, calming her down.

“Cause you’re both idiots,” Marge tells him. She looks at Bucky when she says it, too. “You’re both being stupid. I know he hurt you, Gale. I’m mad as hell at him for it. But he was hurting, too, and you know that.”

Bucky… didn’t expect that. At all.

“He left,” Gale says quietly. He won’t look at Bucky. He won’t even look at Marge. He looks only at his horse.

Marge puts a hand on his shoulder. “He came back.”

“He threw me out like a piece of trash. Like he never gave a damn about me at all.”

Bucky might actually cry right now. He takes a deep breath and swallows against the lump in his throat to keep it from happening.

“I think you should hear him out,” Marge suggests. “Please?”

Gale glances back over at Bucky, who shuffles his feet and winces when he trips on a piece of gravel, sending a burst of pain through his knee that he’s momentarily worried will cause the tears to fall. Gale’s mouth does a weird thing where it kind of wants to smile at Bucky’s clumsiness, but he won’t let it, forcing it to frown instead. “Fine. It’ll have to wait until I get Lucy taken care of, though.”

Bucky nods hurriedly. “That’s fine,” he insists, cringing at the way his voice goes all high and desperate.

Gale nods once, turns on his heel, and starts heading for the barn again. Bucky scrambles to follow, tripping over the gravel on his crutches, and if Gale notices, he just keeps right on going without so much as looking over his shoulder to see if Bucky’s okay. Marge reaches out to steady him instead. “I’m gonna go meet Benny and Curt in the ring.” She points to the outdoor, where Benny is walking around in a circle on a horse that Bucky doesn’t recognize, chatting with Curt, who stands in the middle. “Don’t… say anything stupid.”

Bucky holds back a scoff. He’s the king of saying something stupid.

By the time he finally manages to hobble into the barn, Gale already has the gray mare, Lucy, hooked up to the cross-ties in the wash stall at the end of the aisle, bridle replaced with a leather halter. He’s heaving the saddle onto a saddle rack attached to the wall outside the wash stall. The saddle bags lay in a pile on the floor beneath it, empty water bottle discarded and tipped over on the rubber matting.

Bucky leans against the wall, peering into the wide open wash stall with its temperature-controlled hose, overhead heating lamp, and cabinets full of supplies. These horses really are living in luxury. He looks at Gale again, taking in this rugged western cowboy version of him. “Didn’t know you still rode western, too.”

“Mmm,” Gale nods as he runs his hands all over Lucy’s body, checking for anything abnormal. “More comfortable for long rides.”

“You really just… go out there for hours at a time?”

“Yep.”

“Don’t you need food? Water?”

Gale motions to the saddle bags. “Snacks. Horse treats. Water. First aid. We take a lot of breaks, too. Wade in the creek to cool off.”

Bucky stares at Gale’s hat, which is admittedly a really great look on him. “Shouldn’t you wear a helmet?”

Gale doesn’t so much as glance at him. “You don’t get to lecture me about safety.”

He walks around Lucy to grab the hose and adjust the water temperature. He sprays his hand first, waiting for it to get cold enough in this summer heat. Then he aims the stream of water at the mare, washing off the sweat and the dirt from the trails. He ignores Bucky as he does so, working his way down one side from Lucy’s neck to her back to her hind end. Then he moves to the other side to do the same. Bucky watches his every move.

“So, who’s this?” He asks.

Gale finally glances over at him, if only for a second, and it makes Bucky’s breath catch when those pretty eyes meet his. “Her name is Lucy. Lucy In The Sky. She’s an off-track thoroughbred. Little side project for me.”

“Side project?”

Gale frowns, like Bucky is a pesky fly that won’t leave him alone. He really doesn’t want to be dealing with him right now, but he doesn’t have a good reason not to answer questions about the horse, at least. He sighs as he wets a rag and starts using it to wipe the sweat off Lucy’s face, which she wholeheartedly protests against by throwing her head up higher in the air. He shushes her and gently guides her nose back down as he wipes around her ears. “She came through a local rescue after she came off the track last year. I’m entering her in the Thoroughbred Makeover in October. A competition for retraining retired racehorses. We’re doing eventing, but she’s been good with western tack, too. Been taking advantage of that I guess.”

Before Bucky can say anything, he goes on. And that’s okay. Bucky’s heart feels light when he sees the way Gale smiles a little bit, playfully rubbing at Lucy’s nose the same way he does with Whiskey. “She’ll never be Olympic level. She’s already seven years old and needs too much work. But she’s a good girl. Sound mind. Adaptable. That’s why I take her on the trails. She’ll go far for the right person.”

“Not you?” Bucky asks.

Gale shrugs. “We’ll see. Thinking of selling her. A lot of the makeover horses are trained to sell. But I don’t know if I can bring myself to.” Not after Apollo, goes unsaid.

Bucky holds tight to the sound of Gale’s voice, feeling calm and safe just listening to him talk even though he knows, if he doesn’t manage to make this right, it might be the last time he ever hears that beautiful sound. They continue in silence after that, Gale using a sweat scraper to get all the excess water off the mare while Bucky stands there and bites his tongue. Finally, unable to hold it in anymore, he sighs and says, “Gale, I-”

“Not yet,” Gale cuts him off.

Bucky nods and bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying not to bounce or twitch with the anxiety running through him.

It’s another ten minutes before Gale so much as speaks to him. Kenny comes by and asks if Gale wants him to take Lucy to her stall, but he shakes his head. “Can you get Whiskey ready for the farrier?” he asks instead. Kenny nods. Then he waves awkwardly to Bucky, who awkwardly waves back, and he slips away without making eye contact. Because apparently everyone here knows that something bad happened last week in Paris.

Gale walks Lucy back to her stall without another word, and Bucky follows. It’s the stall next to Whiskey’s, where Kenny is picking the other horse’s hooves out, and the two mares nuzzle each other as Lucy walks past. Once inside Lucy’s stall, Gale grabs some colorful bell boots that he straps over her hooves to protect her shoes, then sprays her all over with the bottle of fly spray hanging on the door.

With one final scratch on the forehead, Gale tells Lucy to be good, closes the door, and he walks away again, putting a hand out to signal that Bucky should wait. He comes back a minute later with Lucy’s saddle and a small bucket of water. After he sets the bucket on the floor, he smoothly flips up another saddle rack by Lucy’s stall and slides the saddle onto it. A western saddle is a whole different beast from the English saddles Bucky saw in Paris. Bigger and more ornate, with patterns carved and stitched into the smooth leather.

Gale looks at Bucky as he points to the tack box in front of the stall. “Can you open that up and grab the saddle soap sitting in the tray?”

Bucky nods, glad to be helpful, and does as he’s asked. When he opens the box, there’s a small tray laying across the top filled with various treats, grooming supplies, clippers, and whatever else Bucky can’t identify. Beneath it is all sorts of equipment. Lead ropes, a folded saddle pad, rolled up polo wraps, a grooming kit, a collection of various medical supplies for both horse and rider, a helmet. It takes a second to locate the little jar of saddle soap in the tray, but he does. He hands it to Gale, who unscrews the lid to reveal a small sponge, which he dunks in the water bucket before rubbing it around in the soap. He sets to work scrubbing the saddle.

“I threw some jolly ranchers in there this morning,” he says. “You can give them each one if they’re not melted.”

Bucky can’t hide his amusement, not that Gale’s looking at him. Muffins. Sour patch kids. Now jolly ranchers. Gale adds, “Whiskey likes green. Lucy likes red.” Because of course they have favorite flavors.

Gale reaches a hand towards him, making a grabbing motion. Bucky rolls his eyes. “Color?”

“Blue.”

Bucky searches for the candy in the tray, picking out the correct colors and unwrapping them. He drops the blue one in Gale’s waiting hand. Both mares stick their heads out of their stalls when they hear the crinkling, and Bucky smiles as they pluck them out of his palm, lips twitching. First Lucy, then Whiskey, who shoves him in the shoulder again after she’s done. Kenny chastises her as he clips a lead rope to her halter. Bucky thinks he sees Gale smile the littlest bit, too.

The groom opens the stall door and leads Whiskey out, down the aisle to the other end of the barn, and Bucky just stands there quietly on his crutches, watching Gale work. After a minute, Gale pauses, shifting the candy to one side of his mouth and biting down until it breaks in half. He looks back up at Bucky and motions to the box in exasperation. “You can sit down, Bucky. I know you’re in pain. I can see it all over your face.”

Bucky doesn’t know if he should smile or frown, but he nods. He closes the box and sits down, sighing in relief now that he can get the crutches out from under his arms and rest his legs – one in pain because it’s ruined, the other in pain from compensating.

He thinks about the fact that Gale just called him “Bucky,” not “John.” He wonders if that means anything.

They’re silent for a while again before Gale says, “I trusted you, John.” He doesn’t look up from the saddle, but his hand slows down as he says it, like admitting that fact takes up too much bandwidth in his brain.

“I-”

“No.” Gale puts a hand up. He scrubs at the saddle hard with the other, making soapy water dribble down across the leather. “I’m gonna talk this time. And you’re gonna listen.”

Bucky nods, shutting his mouth.

“I trusted you. I don’t take that lightly. I told you I wasn’t a fling kinda guy. I told you I didn’t just wanna mess around. I told you everything, John. Maybe I was naive to do that. But I… I thought we had something. I thought…” he shakes his head, and the hand holding the sponge drops away from the saddle. He lets the sponge fall into the bucket of water as he stands up straight again, hands on his hips. He takes the cowboy hat off his head and sets it on the box next to Bucky, and he wipes his arm across his sweaty forehead.

He looks Bucky in the eye. “You said you were in love with me on national television. And then you left. You fuckin’ ghosted me. Do you know how much that hurt?”

“I know,” John says, his voice rushed and tight, panic rising up in him again as he’s faced with the very real possibility that he broke this beyond repair.

“You ended up being exactly who I wanted to avoid,” Gale says sadly, and that… that is a knife to the heart.

Bucky shakes his head, biting his lip as he takes a quivering breath. He reaches a hand out before he thinks better of it, and it drops lamely back into his lap. “No,” he says. “No. I’m not. At least, I swear I don’t want to be. Buck, I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how… God, it was the biggest mistake of my life, leaving you that way. I knew it when I left, but I felt like I had to. I have felt awful every single day, but…”

He runs a hand over his face, frustrated at the way his eyes feel wet again and his face feels hot. He looks at Gale desperately, and Gale stares back, waiting. So Bucky takes a deep breath, and he tells him everything.

He tells him about the doctor in Paris. About the potential for his career to be over. He tells him everything that was going through his mind then, the fear and the worry and the dread and the self-hatred. Self-deprecating words pounding around in his brain, screaming at him that everything was over. He tells him about going home, feeling sick with anger and regret, and the misery he felt every time he so much as thought about Paris or the Olympics. He tells him how he ghosted everyone, hiding away in his apartment. He tells Gale how he thought about him every single day, wondering if he should call or if it was too late. He tells him about Curt finally trying to talk some sense into him.

He tells him how much all of it hurt, and he couldn’t process any of it anymore. Couldn’t hold himself up. Couldn’t live under the expectations and the pity of a sport so focused on John Egan and his comeback. He couldn’t cope with the fear of losing Gale, along with everything and everyone else, so he pushed him away instead.

“I’m not… the most emotionally well-rounded,” he admits meekly at the end. “I… I blew it all up, huh? That’s what I do, Gale. I self-destruct. Ask Curt, he’s been dealin’ with me for years.”

Some of the fight has gone out of Gale’s stance in the time it took for Bucky to beg and plead and sort through all the fucked up emotions he’s been feeling in the last week. Bucky feels like he’s been talking for hours; he doesn’t know how long it’s actually been. A good ten minutes at least. “I wanted to be there for you,” Gale says. “I loved you.”

Bucky nods and rubs a hand over his face. He tries not to get stuck on the word “loved,” past tense. Not present. “I know. Now. I couldn’t really understand that before.”

“I was a wreck after you left.”

Bucky looks up at that, and he feels a wave of emotions crash into him when he sees the pained expression on Gale’s face. Pity and sadness and betrayal. But also love.

“The others held me up. I tried to have a good time, and I did. But I… I was a mess. Couldn’t think straight. Marge and Benny probably had to pull me up off the ground a few times. Whiskey probably got sick of me cryin’ on her.” Gale looks embarrassed to admit it, and it pains Bucky to hear it. But he’s glad that Gale is telling him, in a way. “And even then,” Gale chuckles, shaking his head as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Even then, I just kept worryin’ about you. Hopin’ you were okay. All alone here.”

Regret sinks deeper into Bucky’s chest. He knows he should’ve called. Should’ve at least told Gale he was alright.

Except he wasn’t. Neither of them were.

Because the moment they met, they became parts of a whole. And Bucky went and ripped them apart in a way that would never let them be whole on their own again.

Bucky scoots over on the tack box, dragging his crutches around to lean them against the wall of the stall beside him. Gale hesitates, but he grabs his hat, puts it back on, and sits down. Their shoulders press together. They can hear each other’s breathing. Uncertain. They both stare at the floor below, avoiding eye contact again. “I really, really didn’t mean to hurt you,” Bucky says quietly.

“You told me you didn’t know how to do this,” Gale recalls. “Relationships.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Bucky insists. He never thought it was an excuse, even when he couldn’t get his head on straight.

“No,” Gale agrees. “But you have to learn somehow.”

Bucky glances over at Gale’s knee, where his hand is resting, palm up, waiting. He looks up at Gale’s face – the way he’s biting nervously at his lower lip like he’s the one that needs forgiving – then back at his hand. Carefully, Bucky twines their fingers together, and he closes his eyes in pure, unfiltered relief at the feeling of Gale.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he thinks aloud.

Gale shrugs. “That’s not for you to decide.” Then he admits, “I missed you at closing. We all did. Even other athletes kept askin’ me about you.”

“Looked like you were having fun.” All the athletes seemed psyched for the celebrations at the end of the Games, decked out in their closing ceremony uniforms, many of them wearing their medals. All the countries were hanging out and having their picture-perfect moment together in the Stade de France, celebrating each other with breathtaking musical and dance performances to wow the world. It was a whole massive party over there, Paris style. Bucky is still disappointed that he made himself miss it, but he isn’t sure if being there would have been better or not.

Would Gale and his friends and the magic of Paris have pulled him out of his little mental storm cloud? If he’d stayed?

Gale shrugs. “It was fun. We had a great time.” Then he looks at Bucky, and Bucky looks back. Blue on blue. “I still wished you were there every second.”

“I wished I was, too.”

Gale swallows and nods, letting that sit. Then he motions to Bucky’s screwed up knee with his free hand. “What’s the verdict?”

“MCL tear.” Bucky presses lightly on the joint, feeling the sharp twinge of pain. “Shouldn’t need surgery this time.” He sees the question in Gale’s eyes when he says that, and he smiles weakly, but it doesn’t hold. “If I’m lucky, and if I behave myself, it’ll probably heal well enough to keep competing. Big ifs, but I’m gonna give it all I’ve got.”

“Give it enough time to heal this time,” Gale advises.

Bucky nods. “I plan to. I’ve got four years this time instead of one.”

Gale hesitates, flicking his eyes away, then back to Bucky, away again. “I want you in LA with me,” he finally says. “We’ve both got more medals to win.”

Bucky’s heart swells, and he smiles, for real this time. “I want that, too.”

When Gale’s eyes find his once more, he squeezes Bucky’s hand. “Can you say it again?”

Bucky furrows his brow. “Say what?”

“That…” Gale bites his lip. “That you…”

Bucky’s smile goes crooked in that cute, dorky way that Gale first fell in love with. He reaches his free hand up to take Gale’s hat off his head, so he can see those perfect blue eyes. Then he strokes back the strands of sweaty hair stuck to Gale’s forehead, and he rubs his thumb across his jaw. “Gale Cleven,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I love you. I love you so much. Je t’aime pour toujours.”

Gale quirks an eyebrow, surprised at the french. “Pour toujours? That’s a long time.”

Bucky squeezes his hand. “I will love you for as long as you let me. If you’ll take me back.”

Gale’s eyes flutter closed, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. When he opens his eyes again, Bucky knows for certain that everything is going to be okay. Gale’s fingers play with the soft curls behind his ear, and he looks at him like no one has ever looked at Bucky before – with deep, dedicated love. “For forever?” he asks.

Bucky nods. “Pour toujours,” he repeats. His pronunciation is a bit off, even though Gale can tell he spent a long time practicing, and that makes Gale smile.

“Ever the drama queen,” he teases.

“I mean it, doll,” Bucky insists. He leans in and kisses Gale gently, softly. With love and care. A promise. Everything that the kiss before he left Paris wasn’t. When he pulls away, he says, “Meeting you on that plane was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Gale rests his forehead against Bucky’s, then he untangles their fingers and stands up. Bucky watches, worried for a moment, but Gale extends his hand towards him. Bucky takes it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Gale steadies him, making sure his knee is okay, and then he closes any remaining distance between them. He wraps his arms around Bucky, nuzzling against his neck like the shape of it was made just for him. Bucky’s hands instinctively move down to hold Gale’s waist, like they belong there. And they both just rest against each other, holding each other up. Putting each other back together, right in the middle of one of US Equestrian’s greatest training barns.

The summer heat is suffocating, and it smells like hay and grain. Gale is sweaty against him. Birds chirp in the overhead rafters. Lucy is stretching her head out as far as she can over her stall door in an attempt to nuzzle at Bucky’s hair, and she knocks his crutches over in the process, momentarily scaring them all. Bucky can hear voices and the clip-clop of hooves as Curt, Benny, and his horse walk back into the barn. But he and Gale stay right where they are, and Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I love you, too,” Gale whispers against Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m still mad at you, just so you know. But I love you so much it hurts.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and buries his nose in Gale’s soft hair. “It doesn’t have to hurt anymore. I’m here. I’m not leaving. I promise.”

He wants to stand here and hang on tight forever.

Pour toujours.

And for the first time, he really, fully believes that forever with Gale Cleven is exactly what he wants. Not only that, but it’s something he deserves. It’s something they both deserve. And it’s something that they can have, if they choose.

Paris was only their beginning. This, right here, is the start of their future.

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pain-in-the-butler · 5 months

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Could you give us some good dadbastian fanfic? Oneshots, incomplete, completed anything really, i am starved and need some more food other than coattails(which i love very much!)

Hey there, thanks so much for being a Coattails reader! As an aside, I'm not sure if you're totally caught up or not, but sorry I don't yet have an idea of when the next part will be ready. I only have 4k words written so far and chapter 33 is looking to be another doozy... I'll be sure to keep everyone informed of when we're close 🫡

Anyway, I have no idea if you're like me when it comes to Dadbastian, but I'm pretty particular about what I enjoy. Angst has to play a factor in some form, for instance. I also don't like it when Ciel and Seb are too sappy with each other without it being earned. There's a reason Coattails had like 250k words of build-up before Sebastian actually accepted his Dadbastian fate.

With that in mind, here are my suggestions!

bottom of the deep blue sea by sunflowergiorno Easily one of my favorite Dadbastian fics, hands down. I remember going positively bananas waiting for the second part to come out. It's so gentle and tender and honest. It perfectly showcases the thoughts and feelings I'd hoped for Sebastian and Ciel to have to approach after their experience on the Campania. Words, Strings, and Butterfly Wings by Kimberly_T I love this story so dearly, and it's tragic that it's unfinished. This fic is a retelling of the Circus Arc, in which Ciel and Sebastian must actually pretend to be father and son, sometimes with hilarious results, other times endearing. A major inspiration behind Coattails for sure. I would die for Falco, an original character who to me is more endearing than any of the canon Noah's Ark cast members.

Dadbastian Week Drabbles by HeartLeftovers Nobody does angst like HeartLeftovers, and you'll drink up her poetic language like nectar. My personal favorite is Midnight, but read Magnifying Glass and Domesticated Wolf first for the full impact of the final stanza.

Sensorium by OtherCat Short but sweet. A story about how Sebastian helps Ciel at the beginning of the contract to stop thinking like a boy trapped in a cage. I love that it shows that Sebastian couldn't possibly have frightened Ciel into becoming an earl: he had to actually coax Ciel towards it.

Singing in the Silence by Kimberly_T Another one from Kimberly_T. Not strictly Dadbastian, but a story about the servants learning how to help Ciel with his PTSD in their very own inventive and roundabout way. Heart-meltingly adorable. It's canon to me, dammit.

Front Page News by TheArchaeologist Also not strictly Dadbastian (in fact, Ciel is incapacitated the whole time), but I only need the slightest reason to suggest this Phantomfam-centric fic. Mey-Rin's voice is especially realized. Even though you already know Sebastian, Snake, and Ciel will make it back from the Campania in one piece, you feel the Pham's worry palpably.

Through the Years by Kimberly_T Can you tell yet that I love Kimberly_T? Admittedly, this one I haven't read with perfect thoroughness, but I can tell you that the Dadbastian moments are peak. Ciel hires a new maid, a woman who nearly killed him when he invaded a brothel on a mission for the Queen. Please mind that this involves some discussions of SA. Also mind that the story largely centers around an original character, but no one does OCs like Kimberly.

ad perpetuam memoriam by redrobin1989 Only Dadbastian if you squint, but my god if you haven't read it yet go do it now.

I also have my Dadbastian week drabbles, Cutting Teeth, if you haven't read those! I hope that's given you some food for the time being. Eat up and enjoy!

#kuroshitsuji #dadbastian #fanfic recs #coattails

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scribbleseas · 5 months

Text

in love & in war, drabble 2: the one where you meet him

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: None, save for some explicit sexual content down the line! This is just a lighthearded series for fun! Think Bridgerton :)

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the wait! I dropped this series premiere and academia decided to just become torture from then until basically now! But now I’m a bit more free to get some writing, and hopefully I can get my content consistent again! I’ve missed you all so much. I hope you guys like this drabble! I wrote it in one sitting so I will probably make some edits/additions down the line, you know how it is lol.

Also, if you would like to be put on a taglist for my fics, please comment and I will tag you for each update! Or if you only want to follow specific fics, you can let me know in your comment and I will make individual taglists for each fic :).

Happy Reading,

Dan <3

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Y/N Y/L/N

“You filled my entire dance card?” you lamented, feeling your resolve crumble as you scanned over the small piece of cardstock paper’s lineup of 20 names, each aligned with a planned piece from the ensemble: Lord Alexis Cuthbert, Mr. Nigel Crawford, The Honorable Geoffrey Wilson… The list included a plethora of noble lords and heirs to either significant corporations or well-respected aristocratic bloodlines.

“That is in accordance with the terms of the deal, yes,” your mother insisted, simpering at you while Daphne hooked long diamond teardrops in your ears, set in gold to match the thick necklace resting on your chest. “There were many house calls made about this specific inquiry, and they were all qualified young men.” By the tone of her voice, you could tell she felt she was doing you a favor.

But truly, meeting a man during a dance was excruciating. There was no respectable escape if the conversation was painfully dry or offensive. All you could do was pray for the ending measure of the music and make a swift exit.

You sighed, turning your attention back to the list: Mr. Jack Morrison, Lord Clarence Abery, The Honorable George Ackland…

“I understand. Thank you,” you surrendered, knowing fully well that there was no changing this list without disrespecting those on it already. You were fortunate that your parents were giving you the freedom to choose your suitor in the first place. Most of your peers had been betrothed since their birth, promised to a relative or a family friend as one half of a smart match.

Mr. Neil Gayton, Lord George Cuross…

You were the Earl of Richmond and founder of TransAtlantica’s only child. That was two inheritances—even if you couldn’t assume all control. Your positions should have locked you into a smart match from the start, but your parents decided to give you a chance at a love match, too. A chance at finding real love just as they did: through a cultivated list of requirements.

As painful and awkward the prospect was, it certainly wasn’t the worst outcome for a woman in your position.

“Lord Ciel Phantomhive?” your eye caught his name before you could properly descend through the list because you couldn’t believe it was there of all places. You knew the Lord Phantomhive to be incredibly private, skipping most if not all social gatherings and public appearances. The public rumored that he guarded his appearance closely because he was one of Her Majesty’s advisors and private investigators. You were most accustomed to seeing his name in stately cursive at the bottom of correspondences with your father and his associates.

“His butler called on his behalf the other day,” Daphne answered for your mother, smiling apologetically for interjecting. “He said he will be attending the charity ball tonight and wishes to meet you.”

“He is more than qualified and interested,” your mother said, “your father has always liked him.”

“Father likes his business strategy, no one knows him,” you answered, letting the dance card fall from your wrist limply. There was no merit in analyzing the names on it— you knew there was no escaping the evening.

Your mother rolled her eyes, unwilling to engage with your technicalities. “Come now. Our guests are trickling in. We should greet them with your father,” she offered her arm to you. You accepted, allowing her to guide you out of the suite with Daphne in tow. Whenever TransAtlantica co-hosted events at the Langham Hotel, your family rented the penthouse to finish preparations without having to make a commute from the estate.

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability. Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability, Ciel Phantomhive reminded himself with every step closer to The Langham Hotel’s grand ballroom, trudging through formalities and tepid greetings in the populated hall leading to it. It was the phrase he used to justify all of this unyielding frustration at each step: listening to Sebastian as he attempted to break down the confounding science of charming a young woman into comprehensible steps, and now, burdening his already-fraught calendar with unnecessary social appearances just to put himself in Lady Y/n’s path.

Unnecessary social appearances such as The British National Society for Aid and to the Sick and Wounded in War’s annual ball in partnership with TransAtlantica—one of many charitable foundations that the shipping company partnered with. TransAtlantica covered the costs of a lavish evening and invited their extensive networks of business moguls and the aristocracy to partake in raffles throughout the formal night. All proceeds went to the medical organization, and all publicity went to the company.

Until this year, Ciel was content with having Sebastian send his regrets to TransAtlantica alongside a hefty donation to maintain goodwill. But now, maintaining goodwill with this corporation and the family behind it would no longer suffice. He needed to make a personal appearance both at the ball and in the middle of Lady Y/n’s dance card. After Y/n cooly rebuffed him after moments of light teasing Sebastian made the appropriate arrangements with one of the maids to put Ciel.

While Ciel was well aware of the stubborn reputation proceeding her, few dared take such a tone with him. And for so little. Defensive, she was! Was it such a crime to be transparent about how it was careless to step onto a street without looking both ways? If Ciel hadn’t saved her at the perfect moment— even if Sebastian orchestrated the timing — she would have been hit!

“Find Lady Y/n when it comes time for your waltz,” Sebastian reminded Ciel as they entered the ballroom, “you are only on her dance card for a single number. The point is that you make a better impression this time.” The bloody butler prodded at Ciel’s lack of romantic finesse— a talent that a sleazy demon might have in surplus. Apparently, approaching her first and taking the time to see himself onto her dance card would prove Ciel’s interest in her.

“And of course, you must remember your apology, sir,” Sebastian’s words were coated in honey, the most obvious tell of his amusement. The prospect of his master having to express his regrets. “You bruised her pride,” he explained.

In response, Ciel sent him a fleeting gaze, heavy with irritation. Exhaustion after hours of coaching and correcting, endless explanations as to why Sebastian insisted that Y/n could never connect with him properly if he failed to acknowledge her grievances.

“I will,” he answered simply, clenching his jaw at the thought of verbalizing anything along the lines of ‘I apologize.’ He never had to apologize for his actions—not ones that were truly malevolent, and certainly not ones that were decently-natured. Although it seemed the exception was for the daughters of incredibly prominent figures whom he needed to charm. So much so that Sebastian had Ciel practice the series of words in front of a mirror.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

The phrase had Ciel’s shoulders relaxing into proper posture, his tense jaw relaxing with reluctance. He took a gradual inhale in, scanning the room for Lady Y/n. He found her in moments, catching her pale green gown and its gold accents shining in the warm chandelier light. She was engaged in a jubilant exchange with the wife of Selwyn Westley, the owner of a prominent watch company.

“Very good, my Lord,” Sebastian chirped, merely watching Ciel build his resolve. He’d seen the Earl tackle a number of more threatening offenses: vengeful angels, homicidal circus clowns, and corrupt monopolists with less agonizing. “There is absolutely no time to waste,” he added in reference to the rest of TransAtlantica’s suitors (they were longshot candidates, at best) as they readied themselves among their own servants. Several men’s eyes lingered on the small dance card that hung from Lady Y/n’s wrist, looking to secure a spot in the moments before the first dance started.

It was that particular thought that had the corner of Ciel’s mouth twisting upwards, satisfied. Courtship could never be left to chance. It was a strategy— a war. How could they hope to defeat him when they couldn’t even manage to get themselves in front of her?

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N

“And that’s when I told him: I think I left them in the carriage!” Inara Johnson laughed riotously, briefly touching your arm as you laughed, mirroring the young woman’s impish grin. She had been recounting a sordid story about her courtship with her husband since it seemed your mother was quite liberal in spreading the word about your season beginning. Even still, Mrs. Johnson was quite a breath of fresh air after you suffered nine suitors trying too hard to impress you.

“I can’t imagine what you could have done without a spare change of clothing!” You managed through laughs, ignoring the pinch in your cheeks after hours of simpering and entertainment. You were only about halfway through the merriment, the orchestra completing a lively movement to start transitioning to the first waltz of the evening.

You only had a few moments to find your next suitor: Lord Ciel Phantomhive.

“I should find my husband for this waltz! I certainly hope you find yours quite soon, my Lady, I’ll be looking forward to your wedding,” she chuckled, parting with you after a playful wink.

“Enjoy the night,” you nodded, unsure of how to start your search for a faceless man as Mrs. Johnson found Mr. Johnson in seconds. He’d only been paces away, engaged with your parents about something you couldn’t quite pick up.

You took another look at your card to ensure that Ciel Phantomhive was indeed your next dance partner, but just as your gaze caught his name again, the man who pulled you from the carriage approached you. The very one that you were content with never laying eyes on again.

“Lady Y/n, just the perfect timing. Were you looking to join this waltz now?” He dared to ask, his sapphire eye just as breathtaking as it had been, his lips turning in the same mildly amused manner. Trying to appear aloof. “Or were you uninterested in sharing your time with the likes of mediocre destitution such as myself?” he asked, repeating the words you threw at him.

Was he trying to get a rise out of you?

You felt your face warm from his attempts as you fashioned your falling expression into a sparking grin. The future-Countess-of-Richmond-grin that you relied on so much. There was no losing your temper in this environment without mortifying your family name.

“Unfortunately, my dance card is full,” you answered with false kindness, feeling the young man see straight through your pleasant deception. That was one of the only lines a young noblewoman had to tell a man to leave her to her lonesome; it was well-known by all of polite society. “Perhaps another time. Though I really do need to find my next—” you started, starting to take a step to walk around him, but he side-stepped in your path.

“—After I saved your life last week, I thought you might find time for a dance,” he interjected, causing the remnants of your Countess smile to falter. “That’s why I had my butler secure this waltz with you.”

Your blood ran cold, your smile finally melting off your face. He couldn’t be…could he? It would only make sense, you supposed. A person astute enough to even impress your father.

“I was scheduled with the Earl of Phantomhive,” you forced yourself to answer placidly. You readjusted your expression, unwilling to give the man the satisfaction of visibly surprising you.

“Then you found me already,” Lord Phantomhive replied, all too satisfied. You didn’t even find him! He found you!

You failed to conceal your thoughts, judging by the condescending mirth in his grin. “Shall we?”

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I— yes, I suppose we shall,” Lady Y/n cleared her throat, despite herself. She laced her arm with Ciel’s as he guided her to the center of the ballroom, more than certain that they were attracting attention, even if most people couldn’t connect his appearance to his name. The very reputation that filled a room enough to substitute his physical presence, most of the time.

Technically, he didn’t have to bow to Y/n because he outranked her, but as Sebastian insinuated, apparently Ciel needed to nurse her shallow pride.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

Taking Y/n’s hand, Ciel led her into the first steps of the waltz. She seemed more interested in studying him than starting a conversation, mechanically following the dance while her mind was elsewhere. He allowed her to dissect the performance he put on for her for a few long moments before speaking.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to extend my sincerest apologies to you, Lady Y/l/n,” Ciel said, visualizing the script that he and Sebastian formulated. He had to make the words seem genuine as if he’d given them enough thought to be considerate, but not so much that he was reciting them. He guided Y/n through a turn, feeling her back tense under his hand.

“I should have helped you find the man who took your things rather than demean you with quips that failed to land,” Ciel continued, taking her continued silence as a bid to continue. His skin crawled at his words, betrayal bristling down his spine. He didn’t apologize. It was fundamentally wrong. And yet, for TransAtlantica, he would. Perhaps this company was the Earl of Phantomhive’s only real love match. “I know I seem far from deserving, but I do hope for your forgiveness. If you give me the opportunity, I hope to show you that I can be,” he continued, fashioning a similar helpless frown that Sebastian used to appeal to frustrated women.

Y/n’s face was unchanged, the same politely engaged expression with clear notes of frustration layered beneath. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy—she was a petulant heiress unused to not having her way with people. She hummed, tilting her head as she took another moment to dissect his expression. The movement caused her long earrings to sway, drawing Ciel’s attention to the length of her neck and the complicated waves she had her hair styled in.

“You should have helped me,” Y/n agreed gruffly. “A proper gentleman would have, after all,” she mused.

Was the apology not gentlemanly enough? Ciel felt it exceeded expectations.

“I would…treasure the chance to prove myself to be a gentleman, then.” He answered, using part of a line Sebastian fed him. The demon did not have any foresight into the future, but after investigating Y/n with the intensity he would look into a criminal with, he had decent intuition regarding how these planned interactions would unfold. Sebastian accurately assumed she wouldn’t accept that apology.

“The chance to prove yourself?” Y/n repeated, her interest piqued at the proposition. Finally—a new emotion on her face besides detached politeness. “That sounds like quite the endeavor, my Lord.”

“It may very well be, should you let me accompany you on a promenade next week,” Ciel answered, watching her face redden. “If you might overlook my…” his mouth was drier than cotton, “deficiencies.”

He nearly choked on the word. Bloody Hell.

“Perhaps I might find time,” Lady Y/n answered, and Ciel’s heart soared for all the right reasons. He had a chance at the corporation, after all. It seemed acting was just as suspiciously close to lying as Sebastian had insisted.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

. . .

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anxiteyandsleep · 4 months

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It's midnight in my area; I don't know about yours. If it is, then do try to get some rest and see to this request at your leisure and convenience. :3

==================================

A headcanon where the reader is Queen Victoria's grandson (which would actually make him a prince) who decides to visit Ciel to get to know the "Queen's guard dog."

And from there the relationship would change from formal act between royal and noble to a genuine friendship. (Maybe give Soma a small part in there since they'd have one thing in common.)

You're so sweet🙏 it was around midnight for me too when I started this but I picked it back up later so it might be a little sloppy💀😭 and thank you so very much for the request❤

I will say this felt a little detailed for headcanons so I struggled but I hope you enjoy it❤

° Ciel wasn't sure what to make of you at first, there might've been a hint of annoyance when the Queen mentioned she had a grandson that would be visiting him

° he though it was some sort of test, perhaps you were visiting to make sure he didn't do anything Her Majesty didn't approve of.

° naturally, he played his part perfectly and made sure everything went smoothly when you visited, well as smoothly as possible with the servants running around. Sebastian did make your stay most pleasant though.

° He didn't really like having someone be his age but higher status than him, Ciel really got tired of being some formal and bowing to show respect but he continued to do so while your relationship was so new and strictly formal.

° the more you crossed paths, the less formal the meetings became. You'd simply address each other with proper titles and no longer bowed, besides a slight head nod.

° Ciel will start to show more of his true colors, you'll catch him being far more snappy towards Sebastian than he previously was, though Ciel is still cautious, he has no idea what you might tell your grandmother about.

° he does find your company pleasant at times, though when you visited at the same time as Prince Soma, Ciel wanted to lock himself in his room. Soma liked you very much, you two bonded over your similar lives and royalty while Ciel sat through it all with a forced smile at all the noise.

�� as time goes on and the two of you become friends more than acquaintances, he'll no longer hide his true self (to an extent) from you, you'll be able to see him be more snappy, get all flustered when Sebastian babies him, etc.

° obviously he still keeps Sebastian being a demon and the contract from you but he doesn't really let anyone know. Ciel will spoil you a bit more too, to even out the fact he teases you now too😋 expect lots of playful banter and insults thrown your way, as well as the most delicious food you've ever had

#headcanons #male reader #black butler #ciel phantomhive #platonic x reader

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icantdothistodaybruh · 5 months

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sending this anon because my main blog is disconnected from my sideblog LOL. i’m sorry i keep spam liking and reblogging all your posts but they are SO GOOD. you’ve motivated me to get back into art after a long one year hiatus (college has been rough >>). i saw that you haven’t been well lately and i sincerely hope you feel better!

my favorite headcanon is that sometimes, ciel wakes up earlier than sebastian can wake him. ciel sneaks on sebastian’s robe, much too large for him, and he tip toes down to the kitchen where he knows he will find sebastian preparing breakfast and tea. “oh, my lord, you’re up much too early- but you look so tiny and darling in my robe.” “well, that is what happens when you’re not beside me when i wake up.”

take care!

Spam liking and reblogging is great Anon! life saving even!!! don't ever let anybody tell you otherwise!!!!

I do feel better, and I'm very happy for you, may a hiatus that long never come your way again🌹🌹🌹

I really loved your headcanon, it's so so so very soft and cute, and hits me just right... Thank you so much for writing about it to me, it made me really happy that day!

I hope you won't mind if I post my vision for it separately from this post so as to not make it too long🤭

#ask #I think I might've oversimplified it with this one #but either way the hc is great even by itself soooo-#sebaciel

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caramel-whiskeys-writing · 8 months

Text

Ciel Phantomhive ~ Prepares a bath For You

Black Butler Masterlist

It had been a long and tough few days at the manor, and you had done so much work that Ciel was starting to get worried that maybe you were overworking yourself. You were currently in the garden, pulling out weeds, re-planting flowers, and trimming the hedges, anything to make the garden look freshly tended to. Your hands were covered in dirt, and you had some on your work pants that you had begged Ciel to give you since working a garden in a skirt isn't quite easy or comfortable. Time seemed to have passed a lot faster than you had thought, as evidenced by Ciel wearing his evening clothes. Walking up to you with Sebastian behind him, Ciel was shocked that you were still working in the garden and hadn't seemed to have stopped for a break. You rubbed your forehead of sweat as you spoke to Ciel.

"Oh, hi, young master." You leaned back on your knees looking at the work you had done for today, and Ciel replied,

"What are you still doing out here?" You look at him frowning.

"You've done so much work this week. Have you given yourself a break?" You smiled lightly at his concern and said back,

"Oh, don't worry about me. I enjoy working here, and the garden desperately needs working." Ciel leaned onto his cane and sighed before saying to Sebastian,

"Sebastian. Start a warm bath for her while I try and get this woman to stop working."

"Yes, young master." Sebastian bowed and quickly headed off back inside. You stood up and told Ciel,

"I'm not leaving this garden until I finish it. I'm okay working this much, really." Ciel shook his head and told you to follow him. You weren't planning on going anywhere, but it threw you off that he started walking and didn't stop walking back to the manor, so you followed. Sighing out loud as you got inside, you noticed just how dirty your clothes and hands were, and you thought to yourself how dirty my face is right now? Despite Ciel walking with a cane and being decently short he walked very quickly, and you realized that you were tired and maybe a warm bath was just the thing that you needed to get more energy back before working yourself to death again tomorrow. Once you both got to your room, Ciel asked if he could look through your wardrobe.

"Why?"

"Well, I have quite a touch for fancy clothes, and I know that after a long day, it feels really nice to wear good quality clothing." You chuckled a bit before telling him to go ahead, but don't open the bottom drawer. He nodded his head as you walked over to the bathroom to where Sebastian was checking the water that he had prepared for you. You quickly said your thanks to him, and he left quite quickly. Maybe he has other work to do, you thought. Once Ciel had picked out some clothes for you he placed them on the side counter as you stood there waiting to see if maybe he even wanted to pick what to put in the bath as he seems to know what he was talking about. Out of the blue, Ciel said to you,

"It's not common for me to see women wearing pants, but I think maybe I'll have it be a part of the maid and servant uniform." You raise your eyebrow at him in confusion, and then it hits you, but before you could say anything, Ciel said what you were thinking out loud.

"Those pants look good on you." Your face blushed, and you noticed he did a little because sure what did he just say to you? After a few seconds of silence, Ciel asked where the bath products were kept. You pointed to underneath the sink, and he bent down to look at what you had. After maybe about two minutes, he stood back up and stated that he had no idea what would go in a bath besides water. You laugh at him, and he frowns in return. You kneeled beside him and told him what things were cleaning products and which ones were bath salts and such. After some talking, he picked a few scents and poured them into the bath, mixing them into the water with his ungloved hand. Before he left, he dropped a few gold flakes into the bath and stood back, acting proud that he had just mixed together his first bath. Right before he was going to leave, you asked him which scents he put in.

"Well, at first, I wasn't quite sure what to use, so I think I added some..." He went and looked over at the bottles that he had used and read the label.

"Cactus nectar, cucumber, umm there's some aloe infused stuff to help with any cuts you might have and umm... oh, there are violet leaves and a slight floral scent, too. I'm not sure if it'll be a strong scent, though. I don't think I added enough. "You smiled at him and said," Gave him your thanks. " He smiled back and had one last comment to say before leaving.

"Oh, and umm... I added those scents because I thought maybe they'll smell nice on you." You blushed lightly as he left; after he said that, all you could think about was the smell of the bath that you were currently relaxing in.

#written #writers #writer #write #writing #fanfiction #wattpad #black butler #claude faustus #fan fiction #sebastian michaelis #black butler sebastian #sebastian x reader #ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive #one shot #oneshot #preferences

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k-s-morgan · 6 months

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hello! hope you’re doing okay all things considered <3 i have a Black Butler question! (this involves manga spoilers) i was wondering what are your thoughts on the reveal that Ciel actually took the name of his brother who was killed by the cult? and do you plan on implementing this into your story? it’s strange to imagine him with a different name, but i think the parallel of both Ciel and Sebastian having ‘true names’ would be sweet! :D

Hi! Thank you!

I have a mixed opinion about the twins arc in manga. On the one hand, I feel a lot of admiration for it from a story-telling perspective. The psychological potential of it!.. The idea of our!Ciel assuming another identity, lying to everyone, having only Sebastian as his confidant, constantly striving to secure his new name and achievements, but also fighting the feeling that his brother might have been superior, that he was supposed to be the real heir - it's fascinating. Even more so when you add some guilt over what happened. And like you said, him and Sebastian both having a true and a fake name is a fantastic element that creates even more similarities between them.

On the other hand, as a reader, I just don't like twins-based plots. I also don't like when some relative presumed to be dead makes a sudden appearance and starts playing a big role in the life of the main characters. No matter how justified it is, it's something I tend to avoid in my books/movies/etc. The manga in general feels too big for me - I prefer smaller, protagonist-driven plots, which is why I love the anime so much.

As for Those Gentle Slopes, it's based on the anime, so Ciel doesn't have a brother there. His existence would have come up otherwise since it would have made a big impact on Ciel's personality, plus Sebastian would have mentioned it. So in my story, Ciel used to be a spoilt only child, darker and much more cunning than his parents gave him credit for even at that age.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #my fics #ciel phantomhive #sebaciel

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kywaslost · 1 year

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What’s up. I too have gotten hooked on Black Butler. After 3 years of not being in the fandom anymore. I have a fanfic idea for you.It’s a Ciel x reader so it’s going to be more on the angst side but still fluffy and funny if you look at it from an angle. It’s Ciel. C’mon.

So basically the reader is very similar to him. Being that she also has intense trauma and is extremely stoic and cold. On the other hand she’s also considered eerie and ominous looking. Soon Ciel after a while starts having feeling for the reader, he sees her as someone who understands him completely and fully. Ciel starts showing that he’s interested in being in a more intimate relationship with the reader other then just being partners. The reader of course rejects all these moves even though she also likes him, not only because he’s engaged but because she knows he’s a manipulator. After a long time of driving Sebastian insane with the pinning and rejecting, Lizzy finds out about Ciel’s feelings for the reader and confronts both of them. She’s lightly bitterly and is crying at first but she does want Ciel to be happy and is good friends with the reader (and she’s an Angel) so she doesn’t hold him back. Now the reader and Ciel are in a situation where they can show there feeling for each other freely but have no idea where to start.

Just so that you have a small reference to what I mean by a stoic and eerie looking reader I have a drawing of my Black Butler OC that you can take notes from (you don’t have to just here if you want lmfao)

Thank you, hopefully it’s not too long or complicated. You don’t have to write this if you don’t feel comfortable enough just tell me if you’re not going to write it or not. Have a good day!

Troubled Love - Ciel Phantomhive

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long! This is a long one that I wanted to take time on and work on when I felt like I could write this to the best of my ability. First of all, your drawing is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS!!! I’m literally in love with it! I hope this turned out ok! I also completely skipped over the part where the reader is an angel and didn’t see it until I finished this, so I hope it’s ok that I left that bit out. Let me know if you’d like me to rewrite this properly <3

Warning/s: mentions of night terrors, mentions of panic attacks (no descriptions)

You had met the Earl Phantomhive around the time his parents had passed. You had met the Phantomhive through the grapevine of the Queen’s ‘guard dogs’, and didn’t really get to know the young boy until he returned, demon butler by his side. It was then the two of you were paired for missions. The Queen saw similarities between the two of you, and thought it would be well for you to become friends with the Earl.

You see, due to your past, you weren’t the most sociable person out there. You preferred to keep to yourself, and refrained from interacting with others as much as you could. It played in your favor that most feared you, both due to your reputation with the queen as well as the way you presented yourself. It was almost as if no one could touch you.

Until you officially met Ciel. The two of you worked well together. What you lacked in skill and intelligence, he made up for, and vice versa. It also helped that Sebastian was there. In fact, the demon butler and his master took a liking to you, even going as far as inviting you to stay at the Estate when they learned that you didn’t have an official residence. You agreed hesitantly. While you were comfortable around the two, you couldn’t bear the thought of being vulnerable around them. You were traumatized at a young age, leaving you plagued with nightmares and flashbacks from time to time. Opening yourself up to Ciel was a huge step for you, one you were unsure how to handle.

Ciel, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He’d never admit it, partially due to his personality and partially due to his engagement to Lizzy, but the Earl had begun developing feelings for you. It was more than a petty middle school crush that other boys his age experienced. He had been feeling this way for quite some time now, and couldn’t quite name his emotions until he spoke of it with Sebastian. It was worth the endless teasing that lasted weeks, but Ciel had now finally realized how much he truly loved you. And now you’re going to be living with him.

Ciel was unsure of how to show his love for you without a) making it obvious, and b) letting Lizzy know. Don’t get him wrong, Ciel truly did like Lizzy and he didn’t want to do anything to hurt her, but he loved you more than her. The boy opted to spend time with you doing small things, such as reading together or just simply sitting in the same room as you as the two of you worked separately. You were hesitant of all this at first, because you were used to being alone so often, but over time you became more comfortable.

This time spent between the two of you went from silence to small chatter. Ciel would ask how your day has been, and you’d answer then return the question. It took months of living together and getting accustomed to each other’s emotions to begin discussing deeper topics. You were both severely traumatized children who never learned how to cope with said trauma. Sure, Ciel had Sebastian, but he was a demon and therefore was incapable of feeling human emotions. So he tried talking to you.

Ciel wouldn’t ever say much about the death of his family or the events that came afterwards, but he wanted to be vulnerable around you. The boy hoped that this would bring the two of you even closer, and then he’d be comfortable enough to confess his love for you. Except every time he tried to have a deep conversation, you would turn him down almost immediately. There was one week in particular when you were having vivid night terrors, causing you to get only a few hours of sleep a night. You would wake up screaming until you couldn’t anymore, and often suffered intense panic attacks afterwards. Usually Sebastian would try and help but you would only push him away, barely muttering about how you were alright and didn’t need any help.

These night terrors always woke Ciel, and after the third night he came bursting into your room in the place of Sebastian. He desperately tried to calm you down, to try and talk to you, but you refused his help. It broke his heart to see you this way, and to know that you were unwilling to accept his help hurt him even more. How could the two of you be together if you wouldn’t let him help you?

The next day during breakfast, Ciel offered to let you speak to him anytime about anything you needed. Whether it be to get something off of your chest, or just to rant about anything, he would be there for you. You weren’t sure how you felt about his offer, so you only nodded and took a bite of your food.

The Earl Phantomhive invited you on an afternoon walk after dinner. At first you hesitantly agreed, only because Sebastian would be following closely. Yet once you saw the extravagant clothing the boy was wearing, you quickly retreated back to your room and feigned illness. It took some convincing, but Ciel finally left you to ‘recover’. In reality, you curled up on the floor, leaning against the door as you silently cried to yourself.

You were so torn between your emotions. It was blatantly obvious that Ciel saw you as more than just a friend, and he wanted to take your relationship to the next level. You wondered if your own emotions were just as easy to see. You wouldn’t admit it just yet, but you were beginning to fall for Ciel yourself. Although you hadn’t opened up much to the boy, it was easy to feel comfortable and see him. The two of you shared similar pasts, and you hadn’t met anyone else that made you feel as safe and comfortable as the Earl did.

Despite your feelings for the boy, there was one major red flag following closely behind him. Ciel was a master manipulator. It was clear as day that Ciel knew just how to act to get what he wanted, knew what to say to get his way. You weren’t even sure if he had manipulated you at some point, he was that good. Oh, and he’s also engaged.

You wanted to take Ciel up on all of his romantic gestures. You wanted to go on late night walks with him, go to balls (even though neither of you particularly enjoyed them), or even just spend the evening together almost every night of the week. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to give in to the urge.

This carried on for months. Ciel would ‘discreetly’ ask you out on small dates, and you would turn him down and most commonly retreat to your room. Once you left, Ciel’s small smile would fall and he would immediately turn to Sebastian with downcast eyes.

Sebastian was the only one Ciel could confess to at this point. He couldn’t go to Izzy, obviously, and he couldn’t go to you, so he was left with his demon butler. It was a part of their bedtime routine now. Sebastian would dress Ciel for bed, asking him about his day and his plans for the next. Ciel would grumble about paperwork before quickly changing the subject to his failed attempts of asking you out. He’d seek advice from the demon before turning in for the night.

It wasn’t until six months after Ciel’s first attempt to ask you out that Lizzy was caught in the crossfire. It wasn’t intentional, and Ciel would have never said anything if he were aware of her presence.

Lizzy had planned another surprise visit and stay at the Phantomhive Manor. She had arrived later than expected due to an extreme thunderstorm causing a delay in travel. Upon arriving at the manor, she let herself in and immediately ran to where she assumed Ciel would be in his study as her maid carried in her baggage. Lizzy quickly but silently ran to Ciel’s study, throwing open the door.

“Ciel!” she squealed in the highest pitch her voice could achieve. “Supri– oh.” Lizzy frowned slightly when she noticed the empty room. It looked as though Ciel hadn’t been there in a while. Shaking her head, the girl grinned widely yet again when she could hear faint voices coming from down the hall. Upon further expectation, she realized the voices were coming from the library.

Elizabeth wasted no time in bursting into the room rather loudly, causing you and Ciel to quite literally jump out of your seats with fear. Ciel’s hand even ghosted over the firearm he had tucked into his boot.

“Ciel!” Lizzy squeals again. She runs over to the two of you, about to tackle the poor boy in a hug before realizing what was going on between the two of you.

You had to admit, this wasn’t the ideal position to see your fiance and your best friend in. It wasn't anything too terrible, but it could definitely raise some questions. You were practically laying in Ciel’s lap, your legs draped over his as your head rested against his shoulder. A book rested against your legs where Ciel was reading to you a mere moment ago. You both were dressed in your night clothes, and overall this was a very rare sight of Ciel.

Lizzy’s smile immediately dropped to a deep frown, her bright green eyes welling with tears. “Y/N? Ciel? What’s going on?”

You jumped out of Ciel’s lap and to the other side of the couch. Your heart was beating out of your chest, fear coursing through your veins. This is exactly why you never wanted to act on your feelings for Ciel, for fear of ruining not only his relationship with Lizzy, but also your own. “Lizzy,” Ciel says quickly, standing and tossing the forgotten book onto the couch. He tried to reach out to the girl but she only took a step back and wiped at her eyes.

“I should have seen it coming,” she chokes through a broken cry. “I knew this day would come.” It takes a moment for Lizzy to calm herself down, but she wipes the last of her tears away as Ciel tries to comfort her.

“It’s ok,” she cuts him off from his senseless babbling, pushing his outstretched arms away. “I’ve known for a long time that this day would come.” Glossy green eyes met your e/c ones as she smiled softly. “I can see how much the two of you love each other,” she confesses. “And as much as I love the two of you, I can’t bear knowing I am what is keeping you from being together.” Lizzy’s gaze shifted to her fiance. “I love you Ciel. So much that I want you to be happy.” Her warm hands slowly reached for his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “So I’m ending our engagement.” Pressing one last kiss against Ciel’s cheek, Lizzy let go.

“I can only hope the best for the two of you.” Just like that, she was gone.

You and Ciel couldn’t bear to look at each other, let alone speak. You weren’t sure how to feel. You finally had the freedom to be with the man you were learning to love, yet at what cost? Did you just lose your best friend? What do you know? Ciel was asking himself the same questions. But it didn’t take long for him to drop beside you back on the couch, slowly turning to you.

“What do we do now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Ciel confessed. “To be honest, I think I need some time to process this.”

You nodded, then stood quickly. “Of course, I understand.” You retreated back to your bedroom as soon as possible, diving under the covers and staring at the ceiling. You were finally free to express your love for Ciel, yet unsure what the next steps were. It was going to take time to figure out your relationship status with the Earl, and what to do next, but it will be worth the wait.

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oya-oya-okay · 8 months

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Hello hello, it’s me again! I love your most recent kuroxtwst request comic and it got me wondering; what do the NRC professors (🐶+🐈‍⬛+ 🦌) think of Ciel? Idk if it’s something you ever thought about, but the teacher-student dynamics intrigue me 😅

(This request doesn’t even need to have visuals if it’s too much, just text is totally fine with me!)

Hi!! Thank you sm for the question.🥰🥰🥰 It was interesting to think about it! So let me get started!❣️

🎭&🐰

I think Crowley thinks Ciel is a pretty capable boy and definitely doesn't think he's some kind of silly kid. He knows that Ciel is capable of more and will do whatever he instructs him to do! Crowley is probably interested in Ciel's seal on his eye and maybe he even wanted to know more about the seal than about the world Ciel came from. In any case, we don't even know Crowley's true motives in the game..!

⚗️&🐰

I think it would be interesting for Divus to test Ciel in terms of studying. Perhaps he treated him more tenderly at first, but when he sees that Ciel is really smart and purposeful, he will treat him the same as all other students. Divus would also additionally teach Ciel! Ciel would work hard to get good grades in Divus classes 💖✨

📖&🐰

Ciel would definitely spend more time with him than with any other teacher. Ciel would be more comfortable with him than with other teachers. I can't say that Trein perceived Ciel as a grandson or something like that, but he definitely treated him well and warmly. He would also additionally teach Ciel. They could communicate well and even make friends. Train also wouldn't let his cat get too close to Ciel🥰

💪&🐰

THAT WOULD BE FUN AHAHA.. Vargas would definitely annoy Ciel. Ciel does not like to exercise, especially as much as Vargas trains. Vargas would like to train Ciel, perhaps even for his own good, so that he could somehow fight back as a bully. But considering Ciel's thinness, it would really be difficult. Perhaps someday Ciel would have an attack due to overloading in physical education, because he would really try to succeed in everything. Then Vargas changed his mind and did not demand too much from Ciel 🥺💗💗💗

☠️&🐰

Why not? Hehe! Sam would have called Ciel the little devil or given a different nickname as the little devil's child because Ciel definitely stands out from the others. It seems to me that all the teachers, as professional magicians, have noticed that Ciel is not an ordinary boy and he definitely does not tell something💔

In short, NRC teachers know that Ciel is associated with some kind of dark magic but don't want to scare other students/they don't have time to deal with it. I feel that Sebastian's appearance will be something special...🖤

#kuroXtwst #kuroXtwst ask #Kuro in TWST AU

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ulquiorrapleasecallmetrash · 1 year

Text

Improvise (Sebastian Michaelis x Kitten Play! Reader) 500 Followers Special

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Fandom: Black Butler/ Kuroshitsuji

Genre: Smutty smut smut

Rated: 18+

Warnings: Pet Play, Kitten Play, Collaring, Dirty Talk, Brat taming rough sex, pussy rubbing, fingering, fellatio, Praise Kink, 18+ content

Summary: If the Young Master won't allow Sebastian to have cats in the manor, then he will have to improvise, besides it's not like you hate it or anything~.

Admin Harmony: This one is for my Black Butler peeps out here! I hope you guys enjoy this as well! Thank you all for following me and liking my content! Everyone is so amazing I can't-

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The collar felt tight around your neck as your owner fastened it around you. You weren't exactly sure why but you didn't mind being collared, especially if it is by Sebastian himself. You two have secretly been doing this for a week, ever since the Young Master found all the cats that Sebastian hid in his room that day. Then once he had a discussion with Sebastian about his hoard of cats things changed drastically. The Young Master made it completely clear to him to never have cats again or there will be serious punishment. Of course, when Ciel orders something everyone will have to follow them especially Sebastian.

Now Sebastian was at a stand-still. What could he do to fill the void of not having cats but not breaking the rules? Simple, he found the cutest girl that worked at the manor and made them a offer they couldn't refuse. It didn't help that you already had a huge crush on him and would do almost anything to please him.

You flinched once he leaned forward to put the cute cat ears on you. You were hesitant about this offer, you still weren't fully sure on how to play part as his cat but you wanted to make Sebastian happy and this was the only way that you could.

"Now now now, no need to flinch, You're not truly a cat until I put on the ears." His silky smooth voice felt so calm even though there was a slight teasing tone to it. "S-sorry." You muttered, becoming more shy by just him being so close to you. He took a step back, staring at you with approval, he adored you even more, you look cuter now that you have a collar wrapped around your neck and cute kitty ears on. "You're so adorable, such a cute little kitten." Sebastian cooed, eyeing with adoration, You couldn't help but blush at his praise, what can you say just a little bit of it makes your heart beat so fast.

"On your knees, cats don't walk on two legs." He ordered you, watching as you slowly got down on your knees, looking up at him expectantly afterwards. Sebastian begins to circle you, taking in every detail of your outfit, or lack thereof since you were wearing nothing but a cute matching pair of black lace bra and panties. You were becoming more self-conscious and nervous, you were hoping that Sebastian liked what he saw. "I-is there anything wrong?" You stuttered out, the silence was getting too much. Sebastian tutted, giving you another verbal warning. "Cats don't talk, my dear. Do not speak out again or you will be punished, Is that clear, kitten?" You bit your lips, your face starting to turn pink from not only the nickname but his stern voice. You nodded your head, hoping this would suffice. "Good girl." He simply said, taking a seat in his fancy reading chair, Once he sat down you began to crawl towards him until he verbally stopped you, "Stop, I didn't say for you to come over. You speak, and do anything only when I tell you. That's what good kittens do, do I make myself clear?" Sebastian glared down at you. You nodded frantically, "I-i'm sorry! I won't do that again! oops!" You yipped covering your hands over your mouth. Sebastian tutted again,waving his hands over, "Come over here." His voice sounded very annoyed, you broke one of the rules and you were scared but still a bit turned on. You then crawled over to him, afraid to make eye contact with him. He lifted you up into his lap so you could face him, making sure you stare into his eyes. "Didn't I say not to speak? Not to mention you will always look into my eyes, that's what good kittens do." "I'm sorry, I didn't- ah!" You yiped as Sebastian swatted your scantily clad tush. It hurt but you wouldn't say that it was a horrible feeling, quite the opposite. "Good kittens need to learn not to make mistakes, if you keep it up there will be worse consequences." He smacked your ass again, this time it felt nice, you felt your pussy clench at the pain he had given you. He continued to give a few more erotically pleasing slaps which made your pussy wetter with each spanking. Afterward, he slid his hand from your butt to your fabric covered lips. His gloved hands rubbing you sensually feeling your wetness seeping from your panties and on his white gloves. "My my you're such a naughty little cat, getting wet just by me punishing you." He rubbed his hand harder, adding more friction to your soaking wet panties. You moaned out in pleasure, unintentionally rubbing yourself against Sebastian's hand. "Ah ah ah, Naughty kittens don't get to come before their masters." He removed his hand from under you, before giving you another sharp spank on your butt which caused you to moan out in pleasure.

"Have you ever tried fellatio before?" Sebastian asked, You slowly shook your head no, everything was so new to you. "Today will be your first time, kitten and if you do a good job then I will grant you a huge reward." Sebastian said, taking his thumb and teasing rubbing your chin with it. You were now the same color as a tomato, you couldn't believe that you were about to taste him. "Get on your knees, I'm sure you know what to do next. If not, I will guide you." You were still hesitant, but you at least had some idea on what to do. You begin to take your hands, unzipping his pants, watching Sebastian cock spring out through the hole of his dress pants. Your eyes widened at his length, you couldn't believe how pretty and thick his cock was and this will be the first time you get to actually touch it. "Go on my pet, take a lick, caress it, do what you need to do to pleasure me." He ordered, his ruby red eyes watching you intently. You lean forward, giving his length a tiny lick. Sebastian only chuckled at you, so innocent. He adored every part of it. "Take a couple minutes to touch, lick and suck because soon I am going to train you to take every inch of it." You looked up at him with shock, he was going to train you to take every huge inch of him, is that even possible? You wanted to question him but you knew that the clock was ticking way and you only have a short amount of time to really get use to him. You begin to lick the base of cock all the way up to the tip, slowly licking it since you knew that it was the most sensitive part of cock when it comes to pleasure. You then took your dominant hand, grasping firmly and stroking it. You heard a slight gasp from Sebastian as his cock became hard. You could tell that you were doing something right, so you went from licking his tip to wrapping your lips around and sucking it hard enough. The longer you sucked on his cock you felt a bit of pre-cum leaking from the tip, you licked it up and swallowed gracefully. Sebastian begin to pat your head, physically praising you for taking him so well, "Keep going kitten, you're doing an amazing job. Make sure not to use your teeth." His praise made all of your self consciousness fly out of the window, You continued your movements faster and harder with more confidence, remembering what Sebastian had said. You were learning so well, Sebastian was glad that he had chose you as his kitten. You felt his cock getting hotter as you continued to use your mouth to satisfy him. He placed his hand inside your hair, trying his hardest to keep his composure. You could have sworn you could hear panting coming from him. What you definitely feel was his cock pulsating in your mouth and hand, signaling that he was almost about to come. "I'm going to slowly push your head down so you can use your throat to take all of me. If you ever feel uncomfortable, whine to let me know." Sebastian placed his hand on top of your head, slowly pushing you down his cock, it felt awkward feeling your throat slowly being filled by his length. "Make sure you breathe through your nose, you're doing so well, kitten." He was patient and encouraging, which made this whole experience much better. You slowly made all the way to the base of his cock by then his cock was rapidly pulsating and hot with need. A few seconds later, once his whole cock was shoved down your throat his came right inside you, causing him to moan in pleasure, causing you to swallow every drop of come that was shoved down your throat. You took everything like a champ and Sebastian was very impressed by how well you did for him. Sebastian quietly pants removing his hand from your head so you can unlatch from him. Once you did, you begin to pant as well. Once Sebastian's panting seized he smiled down at you, leaning forward to grasp your chin so you could look up at him, "You did a wonderful job, my pet. Now it is my turn to return the favor to you." Your eyes widened, does he really mean…?

"Lay on the bed for me." Sebastian ordered you. You did exactly as he said, laying right on top on of it. Sebastian then followed in pursuit, standing right inf ront of you, taking in your beautiful scantily clad form. "You look so beautiful in your lingerie." He begin to take off his gloves with his teeth, never taking his eyes off of you. He placed his hand over your clothed pussy, gently rubbing it in circles. You begin to pant some more, you felt very feverish enjoying Sebastian's erotic touch. You wanted to be touched so badly, every part of your body was so sensitive and him just by touching you like this was fulfilling it. "Are you enjoying this, kitten? You're so wet for me, I can't wait to feel every crevice of your sweet wet cunt." Sebastian darkly chuckled, hovering over you to pepper several light kisses from your neck all the down to your chest, licking and biting them as well. "S-sebastian….p-please.." You moaned out, which caused Sebastian to chuckle at you. "Open your pretty legs wider for me." You did exactly what he said, spreading wide so he could see every part of you. He moved his hands at an agonizingly slow pace to further tease you. "What did I say before? Cats don't speak. All I want to hear is meows and mewls from you, no words. Do you understand?" You nodded your head vigorously, hoping Sebastian would hurry up to further please you already. "You seem so eager to be pleased by me aren't you?" You begin to whine pathetically at him, nodding your head as well. He could only chuckle at your desperation. "I'll do all I can to please you since you have been such a good little kitty." He smirked at you before rubbing your wetness faster, making sure that his hand is coated with your arousal. You begin to whimper pathetically while trying your hardest to hide all of your embarrassing sounds. Sebastian moved your panties to the side, inserting his fingers completely inside of you, curling them inside of you to make sure you hit your sweet spot. "Cats meow my dear, so make sure to mewl and cry just for me." He teased you, causing you to squirm under his touch. You begin to pant frantically, your body heating up from arousal. "Your cute little pussy is clenching around me, you're so good to me," He continued to praise you, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, your slickness slowly seeping from your heat and dripping down his hand. Your whimpers and cries of pleasure were audible now, your toes continue to curl as the erotic pain grew. You watched intently seeing you moan and pant was a treat to see, but he also wanted something else from you.

"Good kittens keep contact with their owners, make sure you look at me while I am pleasuring you."

You whimpered loudly, your mind on overdrive, how could you focus on him while he made you feel this way? You weren't sure if you could really focus on him but you tried your best. Seeing his beautful eyes gazing at you was almost too much to handle but that was why Sebastian wanted you to look at him.

"That's a good girl, keep looking at me." He encouraged, pleasuring you with his skilled fingers. Then, right when you were almost at your peaked, his hand left from inside of you, feeling the emptness on them made you moan so loud, "Aw, is my pretty kitty upset that I stopped pleasuring her? Don't worry, I will I just have to have a little taste of you. It's only fair." He couldn't take his eyes off of you as he begin to seductively lick his hands clean from your wetness, making sure you were watching every moment of it. "S-s-s…" You whined out loud, you were almost crying by now, whimpering loudly with desperate need.

"You poor thing, you really want me that bad? Then I must oblige and spoil my good little kitten." He swiftly flipped you over onto your stomach to where your pussy and ass was on display for him. He inserted himself inside of you, not waiting any longer for you to get used to his length, pumping himself in and out of you hard and fast, keeping up a rhythm, hitting your clit and G-spot perfectly. You were pretty sure by how rough he was your cat ears had fallen off somewhere on the bed but it didn't matter as each of your bodies had intertwined with each other. You screamed out in pleasure as his cock continued to abuse your pussy, he could have sworn you heard him growl, before slamming your whole body down on the bed, causing you to almost taste the sheets as you let Sebastian have his way with you. You didn't mind at all, since your screams and moans of pleasure were muffled. Until Sebastian roughly grabbed your hair lifting your head up, "Good kittens let's their master hear them meow while they breed them." He said in a teasing tone, causing you to gasp, your pussy clenching around his cock. You heard a few strings of grunts of pleasure from him,"That's good kitty clench around your master, good girl~." He praised you, as he continued to rail you ruthlessly while you screamed with pleasure.You felt him twitch inside of you, signaling that he almost done using your pussy as his own personal fleshlight. His thrusts begins to become bit more sloppy, then once he was about to finihh inside of you he grabbed you by the neck, keeping you in place as he filled you to the brim with cum. You came right after him, becoming so turned on by the feeling of his seed deep inside of you. You screamed out in pleasure as you were high as kit from your powerful orgasm, causing you to squirt all over Sebastian's flaccid cock. Sebastian could tsk at you, taking himself from out of you.

"What a naughty little kitty, you made such a mess all over me. I guess you will have to clean up the mess you made and I will have to train you to come when you're supposed to."

You laid limp, except for your eyes which widened at Sebastian's statement. You were in for a wild ride but you had to admit you weren't mad at all.

Quite the opposite.

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#500+ followers special #manga #anime #black butler #kuroshitsuji imagines #black butler imagines #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis imagines #spicy #black butler masterlist #black butler x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader

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