#but i guess my name is currently ciel

[crowfromfoggyforest]

Who else up having gender thoughts

I'm thinking about names. About how i've found a name that makes me feel euphoric when it's used online + a list of other names that i love and that i'd love to switch between for the perfect gender gremlin chaos... but how i'll probably never feel comfortable with them irl. Because my brain is weird and will go into "look for all the signs you just made a grave mistake" mode the second someone uses them in front of me. (I don't expect anyone to get this. It might also have to do with it making me painfully aware of the fact i'll never feel like any name is truly me...) In any case, using it irl will ruin any name for me.

So i'll either have to stick with my birthname forever (because it makes me uncomfortable but i've gotten used to it) - or i'll go by a name that absolutely doesn't match me or my gender and that isn't dear to me. Like Tobias. Or Michael. Because then, nothing can feel off, nothing can be ruined - that name clearly isn't me, and clearly wasn't the "right" name choice anyways. So i guess... that would actually give me the most gender euphoria.

Idk. Gender is weird, names are weird, my brain is weird. I should probably go to sleep.

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

Tag Game Response!

thank you for the tag Ciel (@incesthemes)!

Do you make your bed? I actually sleep on a couch (by choice) and so the only extent of making my bed is like, maybe folding the blanket sometimes so nope

What's your favorite number? Don't have one! I do find that I have a tendency to knock on things twice though that's more a compulsion than anything

What is your job? I work in a microbiology lab in a hospital. I promise you it's not as interesting as those words sound

If you could go back to school, would you? Yeah actually. I'm considering going back for a psychology degree for being a therapist, but I haven't been in a place to do so yet

Can you parallel park? Theoretically

A job you had that would surprise people? Uhhhh, I think my current job is the most surprising one I've ever had, and that's mainly cause most people don't know it exists

Do you think aliens are real? I'm the equivalent of agnostic towards the concept of aliens, the spiritual, all that stuff. I don't have a strong enough opinion to dismiss or agree with either direction, and since aliens or the concept thereof affect my life currently, I've never bothered to form a strong enough opinion to dismiss or agree with the concept

Can you drive a manual car? I can actually! My first car I owned was a manual and I haven't gone back since. They're fun and I like the expression on men's faces when they find out I can drive them

What's your guilty pleasure? Watching the incest show

Tattoos? I have a couple. I've got two quotes on my right arm and I just finger poked a white ivy vine on my left hand middle finger the other day. I will continue to get more, especially because I have access to a stick and poke kit now

Favorite Color? Teal! Specifically a teal that edges more towards green than blue (Fun fact, I've painted every room I lived in some form of teal up to when I was 22)

Favorite type of music? I could not tell you. I genuinely don't understand genres very well and I listen to music on a song by song basis and don't actually even know a lot of artists. I can tell you I prefer faster beats usually over slow and melodic, but don't have much of an answer beyond that

Do you like puzzles? Not in the way people normally think of them, but I like sorting information and figuring out solutions to things. Think like, math I guess. I like puzzles if they function like math

Any phobias? I wouldn't say I'm never afraid, but I don't think I genuinely am afraid of anything in the manner that would be able to be called a phobia

Favorite childhood sport? Swimming, in the form of getting in the water and it not being a contest. I don't really honestly enjoy sports much. Every once in a while I will get hit with the sudden compulsion to run and I'll get up in the middle of the night and just go running for 20-30 minutes until it goes away or I collapse in the grass, but I don't think that counts as a sport either

Do you talk to yourself? Yeah. I work in a lab alone multiple days a week, I sometimes forget I'm talking out loud actually

What movies do you adore? So I don't actually process visual media well honestly, it takes a lot of energy for me to focus in and put something on, so I don't actually watch movies much. Currently the only one coming to mind that I have actually rewatched several times is Pride and Prejudice the version with Kiera Knightley. But in general I just don't watch things unless somebody else puts it on

Coffee or tea? I do not understand why I would have to choose. I don't really consume much liquid in general and I don't require caffeine in my day to day life, so I really only drink coffee or tea if I feel like the taste, which is every once in a while for both.

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? So apparently, according to a time capsule I opened in middle school, I wanted to be a "farmer living in poverty" growing up. Yes, the poverty was specified. Yeah, your guess is as good as mine

Urls are like names and I suck at those, so I'm honestly just gonna tag Nep and Hydra because I know you two's off the top of my head: @holyfreaks @overrated-sheep

[fledglingmaster]

Dissecting the past:

In 2021 I came to realize that I have a past life from another source that is parallel to my life as Ciel. Well, as close to parallel as possible, my birth was 4 years and a few months off. This life and world are an altered version of the one I had as Ciel. One could argue my life as Ciel is from an altered life as well when compared to the current world. I will not bore you (reader) with my rambling on alternate universes or multiverses. The basic idea is that someone changed the world as it was known and now everyone still exists but perhaps differently than how they were. There are now other supernatural beings that have clashed with humans.

As Ciel, I was not aware of this other life. As…hmm what should I call him? Let’s go with “Vincent.” As “Vincent,” I was aware of my life as Ciel. I had the ability to see some of the alterations that took place and what the “true past” was like. I only gained this ability after I inherited what I deemed a curse. Most of my childhood I was unaware of this other life. It wasn’t until my late teens that I was marked. By the time I ran into Sebastian, who wasn’t a demon but something else, I knew it was him instantly. I came on a tad strong, in my defense I was dealing with two lifetimes of trauma. Sadly, he didn’t recall me as most did not. I decided to not divulge our shared past. I was stubborn and hoped he would remember it on his own. I hoped anyone would. (As I still do, yet here I am being vague. I don’t name a source because I want the memories to come back organically. I want someone to stumble upon it and connect the dots for themselves. And yes, there is a bit of fear of someone going, “meh, I don’t see it.”)

Now with two pasts…current day me has had some confusion. It’s kind of like watching two movies at the same time with the exact same actors, set in the same period, and trying to keep them straight. There are some common themes as well. I adopted someone else’s name/identity. I was orphaned. I had a traumatic childhood. I had a brother, though not by blood originally. Undertaker brought him back, yet again. Sebastian wasn’t human and I was still appetizing to him, though he wasn’t a demon. He still loves cats. Undertaker was causing chaos behind the scenes.

More: Sieglinde was considered a witch of the forest, and she had Wolfram by her side. William was too serious for his own good and wanted everything done by the book. Grell was just as murderous as before and still had gender issues. Edward had some weird rivalry with me, though this time he was a woman, and he was interested in Sebastian. Mey-Rin had a small crush on Sebastian. Finny was sunny as always. Bard was kind of moody. Madam Red met her end in front of me again. Lizzie and I loved each other, though it was a little different.

I’m sure you can see how difficult it can be to separate everything. There were things I remembered that I thought was from my time as Ciel that really was as my time as “Vincent.” One major thing, I thought the cult had conducted medical experiments on me and my brother. That was as Vincent. I thought I might have struggled with a morphine dependance at one point, also Vincent. I thought I went through some kind of transformation, despite being very aware of my death…Vincent once more. I’m now filtering any memories that come through, which life does it make more sense in? Some are obvious, others are trickier.

Why am I writing this? I guess I just want to be transparent. I know I can’t be the only one going through this and maybe by sharing this it could help someone else. I tend to keep to myself in the kin community, I am rather shy. But I haven’t heard much on anyone experiencing this. My messages and inbox are always open, if anyone wants to chat or has questions. At the least, I hope someone found this interesting and maybe they’ve gained a new perspective.

[cascading-sys]

intro to the cascading system blog

hello world, it's nice to be here. we're a diagnosed did system from hong kong currently studying in the us with a history phd programme. we got our baccalaureate in australia and have lived in four countries. we speak english and canto, and we're trying to learn spanish. our system name comes from css because we studied computer science in uni for undergrad.

🐝 bee

hi! i'm the host of this system. i use she/they pronouns and i've been around the longest. i'm trying to make this blog a nice and safe place for all my headmates to express themselves. please be niceys :3

🐴 cassie

My name is Cassie (used to spell it CaSSie) or Cassandra and I'm an introject of the CSS coding language (weird, I know)! I'm she/her. I used to be a main fronter and I guess I still am, but it's weird because we don't have much coding to do anymore ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I guess the system is named after me bc I'm the reason we realised we're plural but it was a consensus. I think it would be funny if we got an HTML introject, we could name him Hamilton or something XSWL

❤️‍🔥 austin

hey, I'm austin and I'm our caretaker, any pronouns, I don't really care, I really like going to the zoo and seeing pandas, I don't front a lot so don't expect to hear from me here much

💚 pidge

Hey there, it's pidge. They/them please :)

💎 kai

Hiii 🤠 i started out as an introject but I'm kind of over it but i do write fic about it sometimes because my lore is canon-divergent 😅 I also used to be a persecutor but I'm recovering from that haha.

🌹 Rose

hi im rose and i like to sort things, it's comforting and helps us get calm when we need to

🔭 Ciel

I'm not really going to use this blog but thanks for making it

[mysteriousangels]

Solo Para(Ciel): Only One You Can Trust

Trigger Warning:Gore

Cecelia sat at her piano on the day of Halloween, her fingers resting on the keys as she played. The sun was slowly going down and she was trying to drown out the voices in the manor. The voices of the victims her father had over the years. While she had been sleeping that morning Claude had brought her to the house in Germany, the home that she was born in without her knowledge. If it wasn't for the dust that had clouded over the items in the house she would have never known, since this house was completely identical outside of the names on the graves outside.

" Cecelia."

The music stopped as she heard her name come from the voice that haunted her dreams and her nightmares. Slowly she got up and went towards the window and stopped to watch the last rays of sunlight. But in the window, she saw a reflection of her mother standing behind her. Ciel turned and to her avail saw nothing except the piano that she was formerly sitting at.

"Why did Claude bring me to this stupid house? He knows better than anyone that this house out of all my father's homes scares me on days like this. There's too much history." She said quietly as she closed the curtain, darkening the room. Ciel took a deep breath and called out for Claude and got no answer. She paused and tilted her head listening for footsteps, hearing none she left the parlor room and stood in the hallway.

"Claude?! Where are you? I need assistance getting back to my room. I don't have my cane!" She yelled out into the dark hallways and her voice echoed, which it had never done before.

" Darling, Cecelia, haven't you just become a spoiled mess." A woman's voice said behind her and she was shoved into a wall, knocking the painting that hung above her crooked. She looked up at it and it was a painting of her mother, yet there was blood coming out of it from her chest area. She turned back to look at the female ghost and saw her mother looking as beautiful in death as she was in life. She was still wearing her opera costume but there was a gaping hole where her heart should be. " Cecelia, you shouldn't be rude too, I'm your mother. I died for you and you can't even spare a hello." She walked up to the girl who was paralyzed with fear and guilt. Her mother smiled but it didn't reach her eyes as she pressed a hand to Ciel's cheek and caressed it gently. " I'm glad I didn't have to raise you, you would have ruined my career and then I would have been forced to leave you out in the woods to rot and die. But I guess I paid for my thoughts and sentiments when your father ripped-" She reached inside Ciel's chest and gently started to squeeze Ciel's heart as Ciel gasped in pain. "out of my heart. " The bitterness seeped into her voice as she squeezed Ciel's heart harder and nearly pulled it out until all the candles lit up and Claude's silhouette came into view for her mother. Fear overcame her and she pulled her hand out of Ciel's chest, while Ciel crumbled to the ground in pain. When Ciel looked up again her mother was gone and tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to grab onto something on the wall and pull herself up.

A wind came through and all the candles went out again, this time leaving Ciel in complete darkness. The howl of wind knocked over a mini chandelier snapping her out of her daze. Ciel ran, being slowed down by the fact that her depth perception was off and the darkness. She couldn't even call for Claude using their Faustian contact since that was in the eyes that were currently healing. She accidently ran down the wrong hallway coming to a stop when she saw a man staring out the window at a dead end. 

The man turned to face her and she could see the slash across his stomach where everything was falling out as if he had committed seppuku. Ciel tried to resist the urge to throw up as she stumbled backward. “Your father isn’t here to save you from this time. Someone has to pay for his sins. If he continued to work alone maybe just maybe our wrath wouldn’t be so POTENT.”

Ciel tried to back away when she was grabbed by the arms and kicked in the back of the shins. She looked up at her assailants, twins with holes through their heads from a sword. Ciel tried to hold back her screams as more ghosts came around cornering her and holding her hostage.

When the night was over and the sun started to come up Ciel was curled into a ball crying. Claude knelt in front of her and looked at Ciel’s face. He gently caressed a hand over her eye, healing it completely and restoring their contract then he pulled Ciel up and rocked her gently. “There's a mistress. The sun is up and Halloween is over. The ghosts have had their fun.” He whispered as Ciel sobbed into his chest. He petted her hair as he smirked but his voice came out more worried.

“Where’s your sister or that friend you were just starting to trust? None of them came running, I bet they haven’t even noticed your disappearance from their life. Since you have no one to love and to love you back how about I amend our deal? You can trust me to keep my word. After all, after tonight you realized I’m the only person you can trust. The only one worth trusting in the end.” He said to Ciel trying to coax out any trust that she had given to people in his absence. At that time he also realized that he liked this world, there were so many corrupt people here who acted all high and mighty and he was quite full of souls who were way more tortured than whoever found it in their heart to care for this brat. If he could have Ciel as his last meal on earth he would but that option wasn’t available to him unless Ciel agreed to it. “One year, if you can fully open your heart to someone in a year, to the point where you would die for them. I’ll work for you free of charge, but if not I take your soul. Does this sound fair?’

Ciel looked up at him confused since the deal left her at a disadvantage. “I don’t win anything from this.” She said quietly.

“You win freedom. Freedom from loneliness, your father’s sins, the lies of humans, the freedom of never having to risk the people you love. Your soul instead of theirs keeps you from heartbreak and guilt.  I’ll even add that find someone who loves you or will die for you outside of that alcoholic within a year and I’ll apply the same. It seems fitting with Auradon and their idea of true love. There’s no downfall either way. You either die for me or find someone who loves you more than you love me and live happily ever after with them. Do we have a deal?”

Ciel thought it over for a moment, still reeling from the night before considering the pros and cons. Then she looked into the Demon’s eyes and nodded. “Deal.”

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Weekly Roundup: Prompts (June 03-June 10)

Tsukihime

someone should brat tame akiha!!

Smut, snuff, Ciel and Arc fucking and killing each other at the same time. Once one of them dies the other keeps fucking the body until they come back and repeat it again until someone is brave enough to interfere(Such person does not exist)

Melty Blood

SION AND RIESBYFE DO THE SMOOCH

Fate/Stay Night

When Rin is invited by Luvia to check out her Trophy Room, she assumes it's just so Luvia can show off to her. Little does she suspect Luvia actually intends to add her to the collection, permanently.

Smut, incest, Arturia stabbing Mordred on the hill of Camlann framed as Mordred cucking Morgan

Smut, Guenivere falls for Lancelot because he's horribly vanilla and she just couldn't get into Artoria's huge raging knotted dragon dick no matter how much she tried.

Morgan and Artoria + Lancelot and Guinevere go to group therapy and end up traumatizing the therapist(Even funnier if Kiara is the therapist)

Smut, Artoria small penis humiliation (she currently has no penis but it was small at some time previously)

Smut, i just need some where shirou takes Artoria's huge raging knotted dragon dick like a champ.

Smut, Medea, Shirou, and Rin settle their differences in a way that is appealing to all of them. By gangbanging Saber.

Smut, Archer Emiya "needs a mana transfer", so Rin's gotta grow a dick and fuck that man.

Smut, Lancelot and Guenivere having sex with Artoria's permission, framed as cucking the concept of cucking itself.

The Lesser Artoria Polycule (part of the Greater Saberface Polycule)

Age gap, Future fic where Rin & Shirou keep getting weird looks from their neighbours because from a normie perspective they're a couple of 40yo fucking Saber, a teenage girl.

when shirou & artoria get married , he takes artoria's last name , mainly out of spite towards iri.

Fate/Extra

Someone tugs down Nero's butt window and shoves a buttplug in there.

The Gudao/Gudako/Castoria/Grail saga

Grail-kun convincing Castoria to kill Gudako so she can’t force her to grind daily without breaks and instead be with Gudao.

Grail-kun convincing Castoria to kill Gudao so he can’t force her to grind daily without breaks and instead be with Gudako.

part 3: Gudao convincing Gudako to kill Castoria to fuck the grail!!

the castoria killing saga continues when gudako INSTEAD convinces Gudao to fuck Castoria as punishment for her previous attempt at killing her. Then Gudako blows up the both of them while they fuck.

Gudao, Gudako, The Grail, and Castoria go to a group counseling session

FGO

Does anyone know if there's a term for like, the opposite of omegaverse bitching? Forcemasc you into an alpha? I want this to happen to gudako...

Why do almost all twin Aus of the girl and boy master characters call the girl rikka or rika but leave ritsuka unchanged? Ritsu is an existing guy name in japanese. You can split tsu and ka between them to make ritsu and rika, perfect twin set names! Something parents might actually do! My request is basically any twin masters with the names split like above I guess

I think Miss Crane and Habetrot should kiss

I want to see Gudako suffering

Mash and Gudako holding hands. They treat it as completely innocent. The narrator treats it as the filthiest but most desirable sex act imaginable.

EMIYA doesn't know how to face Kiritusugu in chaldea, he can't help but feel like a failure. Can have a happy or sad ending

one of my first thoughts i had when it came to kotomine's 3rd ascension in fgo was " does it count as a tit job if you stick your dick into that hole in his chest?"

Anything involving Gudako and needle work, preferably where she is tortured and turned into a flesh doll

Smut, Barghest buries her bone (knots Gudako up the ass) and shows it off (carries Gudako around Chaldea like that) to everyone she can (to everyone she can).

Gudao gets sick of Habetrot trying to hook him up with other servants, and makes it extremely clear the only person he’s interested in is her.

Smut, Alternatively, Gudao uses Habetrot like an onahole

Smut, mash and gudako having kinky as hell sex, somewhat brought on by all the shit other heroic spirits have gotten them into, just fucking absolute nasty style. the narrator treats this as the most wholesome thing possible

Smut, guda gets invited to a threesome with medb and fergus. objective: survive.

okay let have gudako doing some waxplay on kiriei, it can be a private session or a demonstration for chaldea's BDSM practioners' club.

Smut, As a kinkmeme, what about Castoria/Medb doing the whole domme/sub switcheroo? One moment Medb has Castoria face down in the pillow, the next Castoria has Medb cuffed and ass up?

Smut, bestiality, Lobo and Hessian double-team Guda with lots of primal feral sex. Lobo keeps knotting Guda so they can't get away even if they want to. They don't want to.

Smut, Gee Miss Crane, that sure sounds like your girlfriend Habetrot snuck up under your floor-length skirt and is eating you out where you stand! But of course you wouldn't do that so I'm not going to investigate any further!

Kiara meets Summer Kiara: "My own clone! Now neither of us will be virgins!"

Mata Hari uses her hypnotic NP to help her Master relax. Just once. ... just a few times. only to relax. ... well okay, *maybe* she can make her Master do a couple things for her as well... just a few! ... per time she hypnotizes them... it's not like they'll remember anyway, it's fine... maybe a little longer today...

jing ke (accomplished hedonist who is "very popular with female servants for some reason") convinces qin shi huang (fundamentally cautious but also too curious for their own good and always gets complacent about their perceived superiority at the crucial moment) to allow her to "explore their body" and "show them some human experiences" which they believe is fine because its not like she can put the fear of death in them a THIRD time (incorrigible hubris) this obviously immediately turns into jing ke blowing their back out with a massive strapon and with qin shi huang's mind equally blown by the vast possibilities of human pleasure and ingenuity behind sex toy development that didn't exist in their lostbelt they're immediately absorbed into developing increasingly outlandish toys for jing ke to use on them and test the limits of pleasure this body can feel until they've looped right back around to a "human experience" that applies to zero normal mortal humans who would absolutely die from the violent fucknasty pervert sex they're having and/or don't even have the holes they're having things stuck into but jing ke's fine with it this time because they're not trying to govern other people about it this time and also she gets to fuck an extremely attractive person like she's trying to kill them on a daily basis. also you can do whatever you want for qin shi huang's genitals or swap equipment midway idc about that i care about shi huang di in their hubris willingly turning themselves into an incorrigible masochist with a crippling addiction to jing ke strap

Smut, Medb makes good on her assertion that she's a "rider of men". Now get in the ponyplay gear.

Smut, Caster Artoria is "forced" to go around town stark naked. It's definitely not her decision and she totally isn't doing this because she wants to guys.

Smut, Mash/Gudako/Musashi: Gudako has two hands! Mash/Gudako/Musashi/Barghest: Gudako has three holes!

Smut, Someone flirts with Shuten-Douji, she's receptive, they go back to her room, and this someone learns very quickly that there's a VERY important difference between "bottom" and "sub".

Gudao gets the most unique dysphoria moment of his life when he summons Jack on one of his ‘feeling like presenting as male’ days and is immediately greeted with ‘mom’ first thing in the morning. 

Smut, guda gets somno'd. listen they do not have the stamina to stay up for every heroic spirit that fucks them but they do have it in them to say "hey if i pass out/cant be woken up for it its fine to just go ahead and fuck me i dont mind"

Smut, Gudako gets railed by every woman in Chaldea who wants her, and boy do a lot of them wants her.

Gudako Killing Mash, don't care about the context as long as its brutal and tragic

Smut, Jeanne takes advantage of there being so many Saberfaces around Chaldea to disguise herself as a new one. Convinced it works, she becomes the subby well-fucked slut of everyone who wants her.

Smut, Castoria decides to get better at lockpicking. For some reason she decides the best way is by shoving a vibrator up her crotch and locking it in with a chastity belt.

Guda: ‘hey Xu Fu is it true you invented ninjas?’ Xu Fu: ‘Is it true I fucking what???’

Barghest flexes so hard her clothes fly off

Guda stuffing Mephistopheles (in a belly kink way)

Smut, Guda slips Archer Moriarty a pill that makes his dick grow substantially. He’s unaware at first, and eventually very annoyed.

Since the Knights of the Round Table and the Paladins are basically the same thing for their respective countries and since both Lancelot and Astolfo are from the other's respective country, Astolfo and Lancelot should have hot, steamy sex. For team building of course

who tf gets mash as a part of their round table , morgan or artoria ?

Smut, castoria should fuck cu alter. it wouldn't fix either of them but I think Castoria can take him + she could use a man who doesn't care if she scratches back.

since the main writers did kama so damn dirty i propose an ooku re-write where kama's goal isn't a suicide attempt but instead to get a new vessel. and they've set their crosshairs on gudao as their new body .

Xu Fu is forced to work alone with Xiang Yu, and accidentally ends up falling in love with him too

Smut, Bedivere being really fucking awkward around Castoria, because she's an incarnation of Excalibur and he sure jerked off with his Excalibur arm back in the days.

Any fandom

A character (can be any, for example Shirou) writing a letter for somebody else (can also be any, like Saber) when their friend (can be anybody, for example Emiya) comes in and shoots them, and said character shoots the friend in retaliation, then ANOTHER character (the same old can be anyone shtick, ex. Rin) enters and gets shot, and the character getting the letter gets shot multiple times by the three. P.S. then two other characters will come in and read said letter, and shoot each other. Isn’t that the most-

Crossover/Multi-fandom

*gestures to rin BB & luvia * won't somebody tame these brats ?!

Rin gets force masc'd by berserker morgan

as a show of good will morgan gets shirou & artotia a maid & butler as a wedding present. said maid & butler are a bimbofied luvia & force masc'd Rin. ( said duo are heavily brainwashed to stop fighting & work together ) their first orders are to mind the house while shirou & artoria are out of the country for their honeymoon.

[msbarrows]

Eventful few days in the du Ciel household. Benson progressed through his pregnancy. His mother Renee dropped by, so they had a family movie night together.

Jaxson finished off the last of his childhood aspirations, so I switched to short lifespans until he aged up to teen - which ended up being on the same day as his baby sister Cecelia was born. He had an excellent birthday party once everyone was home from the hospital. On growing up and redoing his outfits, him-in-my-head decided he has a complicated relationship with gender, so most of his outfits are relatively androgynous in style, with a few more feminine or masculine ones. He wears eyeliner a lot, but reserves full makeup for formal outfits. He’s also keeping his current name and pronouns for now, and will revisit his relationship with gender when he turns into a YA. For his first aspiration he’s decided to go with a painting-related one, which fits in well with both his dads spending most of their spare time standing at easels throughout his childhood.

I was amused that he became a one-star celebrity as soon as he aged to teen. I’m guessing because both his dads are celebrities, and more specifically may be related to Sephiroth being a 5 star world famous celebrity (which reminds me Seph still needs to go and oversee his star being added to the walk of fame).

I’m also amused at how bulky Seph has been getting; when he chooses an autonomous way to increase his fun, he tends to either play his violin or hit the treadmill. All that running has definitely been having an effect. And yet he was such a scrawny twig when he was younger!

Elsewhere in the neighbourhood I’ve been editing a few of the lots, doing things like making sure wedding venues include washrooms (their beachfront venue did not, which is what’s inspired the checking). Also that rental properties include at least a few things for kids and/or pets and/or skills (yeah that was lacking also). Along that line, I decided to convert the Straud mansion into a rental property so sims can actually visit it. I’ve given it the mean vibe, on a dark leyline, and vampire nexus traits. Also the spooky and cursed challenge traits. I was tempted to also do gremlins, but decided five negative things was already more than enough. Had fun finding places to tuck in things like a seance table, a couple of mouseholes (only one in a place that the sims will normally encounter it), plus assorted skill & game items, and things for pets and children to enjoy.

[random-yandere-fandom]

Hi! Your requests are open, right? Right..?👉👈

Please! Please, i'm begging you! I really need the second part, about yandere Claude and Sebastian with their mother! When our demon boys have already grown up up, but mama still loves them, and they love mama.

Maybe even in the time span of Alois and Ciel..? Or if you don't like it, then i have another idea. Like mama is very sick, and she didn't tell them about it. And the boys will have to, somehow, fulfill contracts and take care of her? OR! Or this. A man (a human, a demon, a reaper, no matter who) became romantically insistently interested in mama, and the boys do not like it very much.

Or if you don't like my ideas, i'll be very happy to read yours! If you, in general, are not interested in this idea, then everything is fine! Just say: "no". I love you so much, no matter what.

Thank you so much! Love you!

Yep, requests are open! And thanks so much for the kind words and I like all of these ideas, so guess what? It's gonna get really chaotic with all three scenarios happening at once! (I did focus on the being sick part though)

Part one

Platonic yandere Sebastian with his mother

This contract was really taking up a lot of time. Not only had the brat named him after a dog, but he had been unable to visit his mother (how he insisted on calling her, as it was the proper thing to do, ignoring the mama that sometimes slipped past his lips and made your smile shine so wonderfully bright), their only correspondence happening through the many letters he had managed to send and receive. Sebastian couldn't help but wait for this contract to end, even though, admittedly, it was one of the most eventful he ever had and therefore quite entertaining. You know what, scratch the former thought, the pact could go on longer so his meal would be more delicious, but he at least wanted to visit home once.

The opportunity to leave for a bit presented itself and he did not waste even one second to rush of, making his way through the familiar forest and reaching the cottage in record time. Before he could even open the door he felt a strange presence, one not belonging to his dear mother and without further ado he basically ripped the door of its hinges, barging in in a rather unpleasant way that he was sure you would later on scold him for.

That did not matter however as he took in the picture before him. There was you, a thick shawl covering your shoulders and hunched position, a cup with steaming tea risen to your pale face. Your eyes, tired but wide open from surprise, stared at him. So was the guy standing next to you, long brown hair tied in a low ponytail and blue eyes portraying even more shock than yours did not looking away from his, though despite this he did not budge from his position of supporting your sitting position.

You were sick, that much he could tell and from the looks of it you had been for a while, never mentioning it to him. You also never thought to bring up this new guest of yours. Sebastian could feel his human form detoriating, black whisps angrily swishing around him as he glared at the man at your side, anger quick to overtake most of his senses.

Before he could do anything he watched as you quickly did your best to stand up, shawl and tea discarded to the table as you took an unsure step towards him, clearly having trouble with keeping you balance, and calling out to him in a hoarse voice. His aggravation was immediately replaced with worry as he was beside you in a moment's notice, wrapping his arms around you to steady you, eyebrows furrowed as he assessed your current state further.

His thoughts were interrupted by the stranger calling out to you, the distressed voice of the pest annoying him to no end as he glared at him, ready to fling one of his knives before you shook your head, once again catching his attention. You gently took the weapon from him, letting it fall to the ground and asked him, your plea disturbed by yourself as you took deep and raspy breathes, to not harm your old friend.

Deciding that you were more important right now, Sebastian glared at the stranger one last time, causing him to freeze up, before aiding you to your room, quietly asking you how long you had been sick and why you hadn’t told him. You only chuckled, telling him that you did not wish to worry him, he had seemed to have much fun with his new contract and even with the friends he made (even if he never called them such in his many letters). Besides, you were strong enough to help yourself and then an old friend visited and offered to take care of you, further diminishing the need to write him about your small troubles. 

Once you were finished your son couldn’t help but scold you gently, voice strict despite his warm eyes. You had always told him to rely on you, and he hoped that you would do the same. He might even start to guilt trip you until you promise to inform him the next time, immediately. 

As soon as you’ve fallen asleep in the freshly made bed, content under the warm covers as you can currently be, Sebastian checks over you once more before leaving the room, focusing on the next problem at hand. The man is still there, patiently waiting and your son can’t help but feel an ounce of what you had taught him was sympathy, seeing as he had not further disturbed you, although his sudden appearance must have come as a shock. There is a small... talk between the both of him, the attempted friendly atmosphere the stranger tried to create by mentioning how you had praised your son in front of him destroyed by Sebastian’s simple command to leave. 

There isn’t even time to exchange names before he is basically thrown out of your home, brought to leave by the dozens of shadows moving threatengly towards him. Afterwards, the demon was quick to repair the damages caused by himself before going on to take care of any work you might have neglected, occasionally checking in on you. As soon as he noticed the telling signs of you soon waking up, a quicker breathing pattern and heartbeat, he began to brew herbal tea and preparing an easy to digest meal. 

Upon you waking up you are presented with all this. You can’t help but praise and thank your son, admiring the way his cooking had improved, even though his behavior before was less than well-behaved and you even let go of the traces of his demonic presence that tell you of what had happened while you were unconscious. You fought back a tired sigh, it seems like that dear friend wouldn’t make an appearance again anytime soon. At least you knew you would be well taken care of for now, even if Sebastian would have to leave soon again. Seeing as there was once again not much time to be spent with him you really couldn’t stay angry as he looked at you, worry clearly swimming in that deep red that had always fascinated you (and was so incredibly adorable that you couldn’t help but pinch his cheek a bit).

You are grateful as you receive his care and once you feel better, which happens quite quickly, you say your goodbyes again, playfully ruffling up his hair as your son informs you of the tea that he has left for you as well as the meals that you will only need to heat up. You can’t help but feel bittersweet as you watch him dash of, the image of his small self still fresh in your mind and now he was old enough and independent, going out into the world and experiencing adventures that you would love to aid him with if ever needed. For now, all you could was give your thanks to those making your son’s life a little more entertaining and colorful.

Ciel adornes a confused look as Sebastian hands him home made cookies. That in itself wasn’t out of the ordinary, however, the following words of it being a gift from his butler’s mother out of all things was enough to shock him into silence. Now, after the demon had left, he currently found himself staring at the small package. It was something that Sebastian had handed him, so it wouldn’t harm him, right? Hesitantly taking a bite he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe if he could get the recipe and sell these sweets his business might boom even more?

Platonic Yandere Claude with his mother

Claude was in a hurry. He was moving at a pace he was sure would leave traces, bits and pieces of him being caught up along the way, unable to keep up with his speed which even he was surprised at achieving. But there was no time to think such silly and insignificant thoughts. One of the spiders he had placed in your garden to keep watch (never in your home, he still winced when he remembered your scolding upon doing so) had reported to him. Apparently, you had not left the house in some time now. 

Normally, you were outside on the regular. You took care of the garden, walked around the forest for one reason or another, sat outside to read a book or cleaned up anything you deemed untidy. Regularly you would put out the laundry to dry and he couldn’t help but remember the times he hid between them only to jump out and scare you. You always let out a small scream before laughing and catching him in your arms, your warmth and smell mixing with those of the strung up clothing and flowers and sunshine and even he smiled, even if it was only small and of short time. Now that he thought back on it, your shriek must have been nothing more than your attempt to amuse him, causing him some embarrassment, not that he would express such emotion in any way. But once again, that was nothing he should be thinking about now.

He merely sensed that he was getting closer, his eyes long since not perceiving his surroundings as they simply changed too fast. He came to a screeching halt before your door to your, to his, home. There was an eery silence, one that he was sure he himself was responsible for, no animal daring to make a sound close to his troubled presence. He took a moment longer to listen, noticing the smaller sounds, fur brushing against trees and little tipping sounds as all small life forms were running away, careful and desperate to not catch his attention when he had appeared out of the blue. On the other side of the door he could hear your breathing and the rustling of clothing as you stood up, making your way to him despite him not even having had the chance to knock yet. The pattern was entirely wrong though, you seemed to fight for each puff of air and your movements were slow, sluggish, missing any of the elegance you carried with normally.

Before you could open the door he had already done so, refusing to let you walk any further when you did not feel well. One look only confirmed his suspicions, glassy eyes peering at him, struggling to stay open as some sort of surprise flashed through them at his sudden entrance. Before you could even utter a greeting he had swept you off your feet, quickly carrying you to bed before covering you with one of his many self made blankets before adding some more as he noticed how could this place was. It was clear that you had not made any fire in the chimney, that you had not prepared any of the bitter tea you would usual down at any signs of sickness or taken care off the home. 

Claude simply muttered that he would be taking care of you now as he kept you from pushing off the blankets, a sigh escaping as he gently scolded you for not calling him. He was quick to prepare anything you needed, pressed wet cloths against your heated forehead, forced you to drink the medicine and the potion he had to search for. It had been surprisingly hard to find, maybe you misplaced it or had simply forgotten about it in your fever but now you should finally recover, if only slowly.

Your son was quick to take care of everything in the house before sitting beside your sleeping form, crotcheting something that he was unsure of what it would end up as. It kept his mind from wandering though, the guilt of not noticing your state sooner, of not being there for you, laying heavily on his mind. His latest master, an annoying brat that was more cruel and greedy than the foulest, well, maybe not demon, but close. Claude was lucky he had managed to get some other demons to do the most work though, ignoring the way you tried to push him to befriend them. He did not need friends, he had you and your little, ironic as it may be, paradise.

The more regrettable it was that he had not managed to visit you sooner and he promised to himself to check up on you more often. He could already hear your nagging that he should concentrate more on the contract, especially if he also has his eyes on a second soul but could at the same time feel your hands guiding him to sit down all the same before you would sit across from him, asking him about his time away.

It was then that a knock shocked him out of his thoughts, irritating him. Who would dare to come here? Especially now, that his mother laid weak and defenseless. He could feel anger forming in the pit of his stomach as he smelt some measly human standing were he did only hours before, quietly moving so that this person wouldn’t wake you with another knock.

Claude opened the door just in time, a man with dark hair standing just slightly shorter before him, clearly surprised to see him in the the door frame. So he knew who he was expecting, meaning he knew his mother. What made the situation even more painfully obvious and unfortunate for the daring human was the bouquet of wild flowers he was carrying. It was wrapped up beautifully, truly, and the flowers spread a decently sweet smell, not too much to be sickening but just enough to be noticeable.

It was a shame that you wouldn’t be able to receive them. Claude stood in silence as the guy introduced himself before asking for your whereabouts. The silent glare he sent made the guy take a step back, fumbling with his free hand which looked out of place on the grown adult. He then proceeded to give a try at explaining himself, telling him how you had come to the village some time ago to buy some ingredients and how the two of you had a nice chat and he just wanted to check up on how you were doing.

The lie was so obvious that Claude couldn’t help the sinister chuckle, glowering at the scum that tried so pathetically to court you. The thought that this man might have met you, sick and frail, instead of him made him sick. With how desperate this guy appeared (what else would he be, searching for your home in a big forest after one small chat), he might have even offered to take care of you. Your son might have only been reported that too late and he wouldn’t have been able to prevent it. He didn’t even notice how his appearance began to shift, shadows darkening, stretching and twitching around him as the human stumbles back before taking of running, never getting too far and not even managing to make a simple sound as Claude practiced his effectiveness.

Before you awake your son will leave the house for a while, returning shortly after. You will wake up to a bright arrangement of flowers, the blossoms in full bloom and carefully and delicately arranged, bringing the smell of the forest with them. As you send your son a questioning look, voice still too hoarse to speak, he simply smiles, telling you it’s a small gift he got for you. After you drank something to calm your burning throat you can’t help but praise him, gratefully squeezing his hand and returning his grin with your own.

It doesn’t take long for you to recover from then on and soon you send your son back, knowing how hard he has been working to receive his next meal and not wanting him to lose it. You gently place a kiss to his forehead as goodbye, telling him to take care as he promises to come back again soon. 

Once back Claude tells Alois some lie for his absence, as if he would ever tell him about his mother. With his luck, the kid might start clinging to you and even though you probably wouldn’t mind and would also go as far as to befriend him, you were his mother and Alois was his meal, no need for the both of you to get aquainted. He couldn’t wait for this contract to end and finally return to you for a longer period of time.

[dkniade]

Translating the Chinese Title of Caelestinum Finale Termini

Spoilers for Archon Quest Prologue: Act III, Venti’s identity, and Stormterror’s past.

One thing about me: I love symbolic names and titles.

I was thinking about the term “Celeste” and my mind went to Stormterror’s boss fight theme, “Caelestinum Finale Termini”. It’s epic and beautiful on its own (yet all the more intense during the fight), highlighting Dvalin’s emotional past, but being me, I couldn’t help but wonder about the title and how its name functions as both the boss fight soundtrack and Dvalin’s ultimate attack. (Time to loop the track I guess.)

Before I knew it, I was deep in the middle of looking up figurative definitions for Chinese terms and Latin definitions.

I will include some visual flowcharts for my thought process as a tl;dl version for my interpretations of the Chinese title and Latin title.

This post will be divided up into two sections: interpreting the original Chinese name, and interpreting the English version’s Latin name. 

I’ll be taking a look at the official Chinese title and its meaning. I’ll then attempt a straightforward English translation of the Chinese title and then interpret it as both a song title and to French as an ultimate attack name. I will then attempt to interpret the Latin title in the official English version into English, with Latin definitions from wordsense.com. Lastly, I will provide a darker alternative interpretation that follows what the English translation might’ve wanted.

Let’s see what Venti meant when he named Dvalin’s attack.

Original Chinese Name

终天的闭幕曲

Straightforward Translation

Finale of One’s Life

Story-Related Interpretation 

Finale of the Miserable Sky

Song Title and Attack Name Interpretation

Finale du Ciel Misérable (French for “Finale of the Miserable Sky”)

Official English Version

Caelestinum Finale Termini

Rough English Interpretation

Divine Finale Limit

Alternative Interpretation of Chinese Name

Countdown of Final Day

Long thought process and explanation under the cut.

This section will be divided as follows: straightforward translation, looking at the in-game context, and interpretations of the title’s meaning and name.

This section will be divided as follows: straightforward translation, looking at the in-game context, and interpretations of the title’s meaning and name.

Straightforward Translation 

The first part of the title 终天 (zhōngtiān) translates literally to “final day”. However, the term means “all day long” as an adverb and “all one’s life” as a literary noun. The character 天 by itself can also mean “sky” or “heaven”, so there’s the additional image of the sky.

In the second part of the title, the term 闭幕曲 (bìbùqǔ) is has two parts: 闭幕 and 曲. 

The characters 闭幕 refers to the idea of when the curtain falls. In other words it signifies the ending of a theatrical show (e.g. play, musical, performance, etc). 曲 refers to a musical piece in general (e.g. song, concert piece, etc). The character is used as a suffix in music-related terms. For example, 夜曲 is “nocturne”, 交响曲 is “symphony”, and 歌曲 is “a song with lyrics”. 闭幕曲 can then be taken to mean “the piece that plays when the curtain falls”, or in other words, a finale (“the last part of a piece of music, an entertainment, or a public event”).

Without in-game context, 终天的闭幕曲 can then be translated to “Finale of One’s Life”, but that sounds rather dark, doesn’t it?

In-game context: Dvalin’s History

终天的闭幕曲 is the battle theme and also the ultimate attack of “Stormterror” Dvalin. The attack name is coined on the spot during the Archon Quest by Venti. 

Now, Venti is a highly talented bard who, as shown in the manga, likes to use flowery words in his poetry and songs. He’s also Barbatos, the God of Songs, the current Anemo Archon, and a close friend of Dvalin for almost 2000 years. 

Dvalin, on the other hand, is a dragon and the original Dragon of the East, part of Mondstadt’s group the Four Winds. Originally worshipped by many of Mondstadt’s people, Dvalin was poisoned by the Abyssal poison in the dragon Durin’s blood during the cataclysm’s great battle. While withstanding the torment for 500 years, the people of Mondstadt forgot about him. When he awoke again, he believed that the Anemo Archon and Mondstadt abandoned him. The Abyss Order then corrupted his mind with the crystals on his back, causing him to attack Mondstadt.

In the Archon Quest, the battle is part of the quest where the Traveler enters the Domain “Storming Terror” to rid Dvalin of his crystals, which ultimately ends Dvalin’s pain from the poison blood and crystals. Additionally, the boss’s title in the fight is “Stormterror Dvalin: The Erstwhile King of the Skies”

Interpretation as Track Title and Attack Name

So what does all of this have to do with the attack and song's title? Knowing the background, it’s clear that the battle soundtrack is a piece of anger, sadness, vengeance, and pain, and imageries associated with Dvalin include the sky, storms, and winds.

And knowing that Venti’s words can be metaphorical and flowery, the given title 终天的闭幕曲 should be interpreted as such: 终天 is a literary noun meaning “all one’s life” with the additional sky/heaven imagery, and 闭幕曲 “finale” is a musical metaphor for the end of Dvalin’s pain. It’s the “finale” of a painful chapter of Dvalin’s life.

Thus, for the soundtrack and attack, 终天的闭幕曲, I offer a few possible interpretations in English.

Finale of an Eternal Suffering

Closing Symphony of a Life-Long Pain

Finale of Misery

Finale of the Sky’s Misery

Finale of the Miserable Sky

But I’m not done yet. While “Finale of the Miserable Sky” gets the meaning across, it doesn’t sound like a very fantasy attack name… Now, I don’t know enough Latin to come up with a Latin title, so I’ll try my hand at translating it to French instead. Venti, you’re a bard, so surely you know French, right? (The French sub version of the fight keeps the Latin title…)

Finale of the Miserable Sky

finale = finale / final (masculine noun)

sky/heaven = ciel (masculine noun)

miserable = misérable (adjective)

Finale of the Miserable Sky = Finale du Ciel Misérable

终天的闭幕曲 = Finale du Ciel Misérable

Does that sound like a fancy attack name and boss fight soundtrack? I think it works. (Poetic bonus: “finale” and “ciel” somewhat rhyme in French)

Venti: A-ha, this is Dvalin’s ace in the hole: Finale du Ciel Misérable!

Interpreting the English Version’s Latin Title

How does all this compare with the Latin title “Caelestinum Finale Termini” shown in the English version?

终天的闭幕曲 is translated incorrectly in the English version because of confusion in word order and grammar.

In 终天, the character 终 means “final” or “end, and the character 天 means “sky” or “heaven”. HOWEVER, translating character-by-character is a gamble because multi-character words or phrases at times can be interpreted directly, at times need context, and at times should not be translated directly. In this interpretation, 终天 is an actual word, and the literary definition of “for all one’s life” should be prioritized.

Even more importantly, Chinese sentence structure is more fluid than English, so the word order should be kept in mind when translating to English.

But it’s clear that Genshin Impact’s English translation team doesn’t know that. As mentioned previously, 闭幕曲 can be interpreted as “finale”, and now we’ve learned it’s easy to make the mistake of translating directly based on perceived word order. 

I believe the English translation team’s thought process was as follows.

终天的闭幕曲

misinterpreted as “final day’s finale” or “heaven’s final finale” (or something similar)

天 → Caelestinum; 终 → Finale, Termini; 闭幕曲 → Finale Termini

But I will say I don’t know Latin, so I can only rely on online definitions from wordsense.eu.

caelestinum (Latin origin)

celestial, of or in the heavens

(figuratively) divine, of the gods

finale (Latin origin), form Latin finis

end; boundary, limit

terminus (Latin origin)

boundary, limit

Thus a rough interpretation of “Caelestinum Finale Termini” might be “Divine Finale Limit”.

Compared to my translation of “Finale of the Miserable Sky” or even the more straightforward translation of “Finale of One’s Life”, it’s not the same.

Darker Alternative Interpretation of Chinese Title

终天

the character 终 means “final” or “end”

the character 天 can mean “day”.  

 终天 interpreted literally can mean “final day”

闭幕曲 

means “finale” or “closing piece”

Alternatively one could say “countdown”

Original Chinese: 终天的闭幕曲 

To English: Finale of Final Day

Dvalin-centric Interpretation: Countdown of Final Day

Symbolism Explanation: countdown → Dvalin’s life slowly succumbing to Durin’s poison blood and the Abyss Order’s mind-control; final day → if the Traveler doesn’t save Dvalin during the Archon Quest, Dvalin could die

Closing Thought

This was really fun to do!! Like I said, I love symbolic names and titles, and Genshin Impact’s Chinese titles are always so poetic with lots of flourish (if not too much sometimes). I’m no stranger to figurative language, so I can more or less understand Venti’s poetic name for the attack. Thank you for reading!

[dawn-moths]

“Pulling on the Leash”

CHAPTER 3

Undertaker x Female Reader / Ron x Female Reader

word count: 22,000+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 * part 4 * part 5 * part 6 * part 7

(After attending a dinner party at the Phantomhive manor, things escalate between you and Undertaker but not in a good way. His actions put you in a position you’ve never been in before, causing you to make all kinds of hasty decisions. But as you revisit your previous affair with Ron, you gain a new perspective about what your relationship could be— should be. The only problem now is that you can’t decide who will be the best for you in the end.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ sexual content! minors DNI! descriptions of violence, abusive/controlling behavior, daddy kink, jealousy, cheating, handcuffing and whipping as punishment, this one’s actually like kinda sad sometimes like sorry i guess.

***

When Undertaker had first received the invitation to attend a dinner party being held at Ciel Phantomhive’s mansion, he’d simply thought, so he’s just as eager to meet his competitor as I am. But as his gaze traveled further down the elegant, curving script of the cursive letters and landed on your name, his keen confidence faltered.

We at the Phantomhive manor humbly invite you to join us for dinner on the night specified below, it began. Then, under the date, time, and address, an additional message had been scrawled, this one calling Undertaker and you specifically by name, before concluding with, We sincerely hope you can find time in your busy schedules to make it, as we look forward to meeting with you. All the best, Ciel Phantomhive.

So the day has finally come, Undertaker thought as he perched the invitation to sit open on the dining room table. I suppose it’s time to meet the competition.

“Hey…” you greeted sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you dragged your slippered feet towards your usual chair at the table. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, my love,” Undertaker smiled at you, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on top of the polished mahogany, the scent of Earl Grey tea drifting through the air. “Did you sleep well?” You nodded your head and gave a weak grin of your own, only a glass of water in front of you this morning. “Well, I have some good news, if you’d like to hear it?”

You perked up at the mention of something positive. Your cute and innocent reaction made Undertaker’s smirk turn a little sweeter.

He slid the invitation towards you. “We’ve been invited to a dinner party next week.” Your eyes quickly scanned over the shiny gold lettering on the cream card paper, an official crest stamped at the center. “As you can see, we’ve both been called upon by name, though I’d only take you along if you wanted to—”

“Of course I want to!” you beamed, barely letting Undertaker finish. “This is so exciting! Who is he anyway? Ciel Phantomhive…” You reread the name that curved and curled across the invitation. “That sounds kind of familiar, actually…”

“We work in the same industry,” Undertaker skillfully fibbed. Well, it was only a half-lie, afterall. And he knew that all the best lies were always half-true. “Though we’ve never met in person, I suppose he figured now was a good time. It works with my schedule currently, so…”

You continued to smile eagerly at your lover, elated to have an excuse to attend a special event with him.

You began asking a ton of questions, wanting to know if any of the others were coming, like Grell or Ron, or if there would be other guests in attendance in general, people that your host had hand-picked in addition to you two.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” Undertaker answered your many inquiries in one sweeping statement, placing a scone onto his plate to pair with his cup of morning tea. “But if you’d like a new dress to wear to the event, we can go pick one out together.”

Your cheeks turned rosy at the offer, smile widening and eyes squinting with genuine joy.

“I love you, Daddy!” you exclaimed as you threw your arms around Undertaker and hugged him tight. He wrapped a long, thin arm around your waist and pulled you in closer, settling you on his lap. And you were just so happy to have him around you, so happy that the two of you had seemed to have smoothed out the issues that had risen up as of late.

Because things were starting to feel like they used to, when you two just got to be together whether it was at home or the headquarters or— your favorite— attending fancy parties and extravagant dinners. You looked forward to having every person’s head turn in unison when you two walked into the room together, clothing coordinated and arms linked as you both wore devious smirks in knowing you were a sight to behold.

You never would’ve been able to stir such a reaction with Ron.

With Ron, you’d just be like any other couple. Perhaps catching a few fleeting glances, but never the awestruck stares of unprepared spectators.

Because, despite the fact that Undertaker held all the power all the time, the two of you gave off the illusion of being a power couple.

I mean, you had your own version of power and status and influence. All of it just happened to be digital instead of physical. Your six million followers would be envious beyond imagination if they were actually allowed to see what you got up to and with whom beyond a selfie in a foreign country or a picture one of the boys had snapped of you on an outing while you were dressed in the latest and most exclusive fashion.

But at the end of it all you knew that Undertaker held the end of your leash, never letting you stray too far or pull too hard, the diamond collar around your neck engraved with his name, further proving that you belong to him.

However, despite some of your most recent defiances, this time you actually seemed willing to wear that collar. You’d slip it around your own neck and fasten it as tight as he wanted you to, already knowing that you had zero intention of trying to test your limits and see how long it would take until you were choked out.

Because you’d gotten over your rebellious streak, you’d convinced yourself. You were going to be a good girl again, sit and stay and roll over the moment Undertaker gave the order.

Anything to make things feel right again, feel familiar.

And that week— when Undertaker took you shopping for a new dress, new shoes, jewelry, accessories, a nails and spa day, the whole nine— you acted exactly as he’d trained you, like the well behaved and adorable puppy walking perfectly by his side, accepting every treat he offered from the palm of his hand.

“Absolutely exquisite, darling,” he complimented you once you were all decked out in your newest purchases, him sitting on the end of the bed and watching you do a twirl in the middle of the master bedroom, just about ready to accompany him to the car to head to the dinner party. “Come here.”

Like you had for so long, you did exactly as he said, drawn to him both willingly and unwillingly, unable to even tell the difference anymore.

“As you know…” he began, cold palms slowly rubbing up and down the sides of your arms before going to adjust your necklace and the way the short skirt of your dress was laying, always making sure his little doll looked perfect. “Tonight is a very important night for both myself and our host.” You nodded, already having let him know throughout the week that you intended to be a perfect little angel during this dinner. “But there’s something I need you to know…” His hands paused as they rested on your shoulders, his brilliant and mysterious gaze steady with yours, making you a little nervous now.

What was he about to say?

The tension was thickening in the air between you, causing your gleeful mood to shift a little, suddenly feeling as if you were about to be given some very unpleasant news that was going to make this past week seem like nothing more than an elaborate attempt to make up for what was about to be said.

“What is it…?” you then asked anxiously as the pause that Undertaker had given began to terrify you.

His lips curved up into a vague half smirk, palms trailing back down your arms to catch your hands and hold them in each of his. “Whatever you do, don’t wander off,” he finally said, causing you to let out an exhale of relief you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “Stay where I can see you and try not to talk too much.”

Undertaker took note of the way your mouth fell slightly open at the request of you to stay quiet, then shaking his head and smiling a little wider, lightly stroking his knuckles along your jaw as he rephrased, “I just mean that I don’t want our hosts to learn too much about you. Truth be told, it’s unknown whether they’ll turn out to be our allies or our enemies just yet. I just want you to stay safe.”

With this explanation, whether it was true or false entirely, you just nodded, eyes flicking down to where each of your hands was still connected before meeting Undertaker’s gaze again. “I understand, Daddy,” you said, giving a bashful grin and swaying lightly back and forth. “You’re just trying to protect me…” You shifted forward to sit on his lap, his hands unable to resist skimming over the exposed skin of your thighs, barely able to fight the urge to pin you down on the bed and strip you of your new dress. “I’ll be careful…” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on his shoulder as his fingers gently combed themselves through your hair. “I promise.”

Undertaker’s smile turned more genuine then, dark and mysterious aura melting away into something kinder, softer.

You were the only one who could get him in such a state. He both craved and feared it. Was addicted to it and sought relief from it. But you really were, at the end of it all, his entire world. He needed you more than he needed the ache in his spine from digging the grave of one of his deceased enemies or the fear that spread across a victim’s face as the looming shadow of the Black Reaper drenched them in darkness.

And that was scary.

Because Undertaker had spent his entire life in nothing but death and decay and bitter determination before he’d met you.

Yet he’d welcomed you in so easily, so naturally, as if he’d been waiting for you to turn up all along and just hadn’t realized it until it was too late to turn back, to try and convince himself you were a beautiful trap that he was more than willing to fall into over and over and over again.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he cooed, and the words of that simple praise were enough to make you want to cry.

Not tears of sadness or regret.

But tears of unbridled happiness.

Because he’d always been able to give you what you wanted.

Now you finally felt like you could return the gesture.

“Now then…” Undertaker spoke in a low, seductive tone. “Shall we get going? I’d hate to show up late to a first meeting. Not to mention I know you don’t very well enjoy it when dinner runs cold.”

You giggled, giving him a kiss on the cheek before hopping up from his lap and telling him you’d race him downstairs, despite knowing that he’d never stoop to such childish behavior. He could still adore it in you though, and that’s all that really mattered.

So, having beat him to the bottom of the stairs with a playful skip in your step, you took his arm once he caught up and the two of you exited the dark mansion, seating yourselves side by side in the vintage Rolls-Royce and racing to a different Victorian manor on the outskirts of London.

And the whole way there felt like a different lifetime, a new dimension where you’d gotten a chance to redo— or rather, not do at all— your previous mistakes.

Because there was no Ron. Not in thought or action or appearance or mention.

There was just you and Undertaker and whoever your peculiar hosts were going to turn out to be.

***

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” Lizzy burst out, hands on her hips and looking down at Ciel, who sat at his desk, with annoyance. “If I would’ve known that she was going to be our dinner guest I would’ve dressed way cuter!”

Ciel had withheld the information about his girlfriend’s favorite fashion influencer attending the dinner party purposely, knowing that Lizzy would get too worked up and only irritate him about it more, asking questions that he didn’t have the answers to or even care to obtain.

The boy sighed, standing from his chair and heading out of his office, Lizzy trailing behind him as the two of them migrated towards the main entrance where you and Undertaker were soon to arrive, Sebastian falling into step as they passed by him.

“Well, would you rather I just not have told you at all and had the information come as a shock?” he grumbled, continuing down the hall without paying much mind to his enthusiastic significant other. “Besides, you look plenty cute the way you are. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“But you don’t understand!” Lizzy continued dramatically, catching glimpses of herself in mirrors as they walked and attempting to adjust her appearance to be as perfect as she knew yours would be. “This isn’t just some random girl who happens to be dating someone you work with—”

Unlike you, Lizzy knew nothing about the dark side of Ciel’s business. All she’d been told was that Undertaker was a trader who was looking to extend his reach into Funtom’s territory if they could strike a deal.

“She’s, like, one of the most popular people I follow! She’s always getting all kinds of shoutouts from the fashion and travel community and gets only the most exclusive brand deals!” Lizzy was also an up and coming fashion influencer herself, though she had quite a ways until she reached your level. If only she knew what you really thought of social media, your complicated and oftentimes toxic relationship with it.

“If you want something you see her wearing,” Ciel went on, just trying to appease Lizzy before the guests arrived. “Just show me and I’ll buy it for you. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”

“Becaaaauuuuse!” Lizzy whined, Sebastian stifling a chuckle at his master’s frustration with the girl. “You can’t just buy them! You have to be given them! There’s only so many that are made so they reserve them only for the most important people!”

“Well then,” Ciel stopped walking and turned to face Lizzy, attempting to mask his exhaustion. “During dinner, why don’t you get to know her and ask her how she got where she is now? I’m sure that, if she likes you, she’d be more than willing to share.”

Lizzy’s face turned from dread to contemplation to satisfaction as she smiled and said, “Yeah! You’re right! That’s actually a pretty good idea!” laughing to herself a bit at her own obliviousness as Ciel turned back around and sighed, continuing on towards the main entrance.

“I believe their car just pulled up,” Sebastian informed his master as he heard the humming of the engine momentarily before it went silent.

“I swear…” Ciel muttered under his breath so only Sebastian could hear. “This meeting better be worth it for tearing me away from my real work. If what I’ve heard about him is true though, I can’t exactly guarantee that he can be trusted outside these walls…”

“No need to worry, young master,” Sebastian smirked, also lowering his voice so the naive Lizzy who was clearly back in her own world a few paces behind them wouldn’t hear. “I’ve already ensured that nothing will happen to any of our shares without immediate repercussions for any possible thieves. He will be no exception, dare he try anything untrustworthy.”

“Yes, yes, alright,” Ciel waved off the promised threat as he prepared to wear his best hosting expression, you and Undertaker’s silhouettes coming into view from outside the mosaic glass of the double front doors. “For now, just pay close attention to the two of them. I’m curious to see if he’s actually a threat when it comes to business.”

“As you wish, sir,” Sebastian bowed, already heading to grab the front doors before Undertaker knocked.

***

“You have a beautiful home,” Undertaker complimented calmly as Ciel and Lizzy walked ahead of you and him, Sebastian trailing in the back. “If I had to guess, I’d say it had to be in your family for generations.”

Undertaker had been able to hide his surprise at his host being a child, someone almost ten years younger than his girlfriend— people who didn’t know you would wonder why you were dating someone who was almost an entire decade your senior, but neither of you really cared about what they thought— yet inside a thousand questions had began to sprout about the boy with the eyepatch, seedlings of suspicion growing into blooming intrigue.

“You have a good eye,” Ciel replied, matching his competitor’s— guest’s— cool demeanor. “Sadly, however, my parents never got to pass it down to me properly. It was only after their untimely deaths that I inherited it.”

“Well then…” Undertaker faked sympathy. “My deepest condolences. Someone as young as yourself having to take on such a heavy responsibility…” You felt Undertaker’s arm tense a bit where yours was linked with his. You didn’t pay it too much attention though, too busy looking around at all the art that was displayed or the details of the mansion itself, so different from the one you’d gotten used to living in with Undertaker.

Meanwhile, Lizzy was trying to sneak glances at you but didn’t want to make it obvious she was staring, reminding herself to act normal and not like a psychotic superfan that was going to burden you with her parasocial ideas about what good friends you could be if you gave her the chance.

You hadn’t paid her much mind yet, though when you’d been greeted in the main entrance you’d thought that she did look sort of familiar. The memory was still working on coming back to you in full, too many other distractions all around you.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” Ciel stated simply, the group of you almost to the dining hall now where the other servants, of which there were few, waited. “They taught me plenty while they were alive. Though I suppose they still had much more to pass on…”

With this, Sebastian somehow had moved to the front of the pack and appeared at the entrance to the dining hall, announcing the room that lay on the other side before swinging open the doors and allowing you all the enter, long table already decorated with tonight’s feast.

Lizzy’s eyes scanned the assortment in awe. Ciel seemed unphased. Undertaker wore his usual all-knowing smirk. And you, well…

You almost couldn’t believe it.

“Dinner is served,” Sebastian announced once you all were seated, four other servants coming around to lift the silver domed lids from the plates to expose all the delectable food underneath.

It looked like a dream, something that could almost be real but wasn’t.

You thought of the long mahogany dining table back at home, only ever filled by you and Undertaker and your individual plates. Never embellished with this many options and scents,  colors and flavors, even during his dinner parties.

But that’s because Undertaker usually cooks for me, you reminded yourself before you became lost in comparing him to someone or something else unfairly again. I bet this food doesn’t even come close to his.

But you were proven wrong upon the first bite, mouth watering before your lips even closed around your fork.

It was exquisite— different in the way that Undertaker’s cooking was still your favorite, even if at this point just by sentimentality, but still undeniably delicious. You wanted to savor every bite, sample every flavor, taking in all the spices, some of which you couldn’t even decipher.

Whoever the chef had been for tonight had outdone himself. At one point, you even asked the butler to give your compliments to him, but the man had simply smiled at you and said, “I can assure you that he’ll appreciate that greatly.” You, of course, had no inclination that you’d just thanked the chef yourself.

“Hey, wait a minute…” you finally realized halfway through a conversation with Lizzy that brought up the department store you’d been in the day Grell brought you shopping after the meeting. “I think I do know you!”

You recognized her now— the cute little blonde girl with the pink and white dress who’d bought the rose quartz ring.

“You do?” Lizzy’s emerald eyes widened, completely awestruck. You recounted that day for her and then it was her turn to behold a recollection. “Oh my gosh, that really was you, wasn’t it?” she giggled then, excitement flooding her. “I couldn’t believe it in the moment— couldn’t believe that I’d actually run into you!”

You smiled at her earnestness, appreciating her genuineness. “Well, I suppose we both have good taste to be shopping at the same store,” you said through a lighthearted giggle of your own.

And, truth be told, the little girl who you’d once envied so deeply, had been willing to do things out of spite against due to your own jealousy, was slowly becoming your friend.

You both had more in common than what originally met the eye.

You both had an affinity for fashion and were well traveled and were lucky enough to live such lavish lifestyles— though unlike you she’d actually been born into money— and you both liked cute things, even though Lizzy was more free to express that trait outwardly.

However, when Lizzy began to ask how you’d gotten so good at things like managing your social media, even bringing up the suspicious deletion of that photo you’d gotten in trouble for posting the other day, you felt yourself retracting, the gates of newfound friendship beginning to close in fear of exposing too much like Undertaker had warned you about.

But he said I shouldn’t say too much around the host, you thought, always finding a loophole. He never said anything about the host’s girlfriend.

Still, you didn’t go into too much detail, as much as you wanted to.

“More to drink, miss?” the maid asked as she held up a water pitcher and prepared to refill your glass. You nodded, turning back to face Lizzy then, the maid watching you intently, almost predatorily from behind her circular glasses. She’d been told to keep an eye on you too. All the servants had.

Because, despite your host’s lack of years, Ciel was just as suspicious of you as he was of Undertaker, and rightfully so. He’d made a point to inform his butler of such who then relayed the message throughout the housestaff, everyone watching the two of you like every move you made, every word you said, could turn out to be dangerous if not kept in check.

Also amongst the housestaff was a rough around the edges looking man who might’ve been considered quite handsome, if not for the hard past that had carved those harsh lines into his face, given him that frown. He was the chef of the estate, though only in title. He couldn’t cook anything that was actually worth eating unless the meal was going to be used to poison someone.

Then there was a small and rather innocent looking boy with strawberry-blonde hair and large greenish-blue eyes. He wore a straw hat that looped over his head and rested against his back along with the dirt-caked rubber boots that marked him as a gardener. Though, despite the teenager’s unassuming appearance— the fact that he usually wore an expression of childlike curiosity or a big, beaming smile— the boy had killed before and would do so again, given the order.

The third man of the quartet was the most peculiar, however…

His hair was a shining, pale silver— similar to Undertaker’s— but his eyes were a striking golden color. His skin scaled over in certain patches, giving him a rather reptilian look and, to add to that aesthetic, he currently had a snake curled up around his body under his clothes, the tiny head of the creature poking out and flicking its tongue as it slowly slid across its owner’s skin.

There was an older man who was also dressed as a butler somewhere else in the mansion, likely making sure that nothing important had been skimmed by curious hands during the earlier tour, and also safely securing anything that might be deemed confidential to the dinner guest’s gaze need any of them attempt any unsupervised wandering later in the evening.

The maid though… She had a set of strange traits herself, a history that one might not believe just by looking at her. Because despite the maid’s usually clumsy gait or her ridiculously thick circular glasses that took up almost her entire face, the woman was a warrior. She was a sharpshooter, able to hit any target, the further they tried to run from the end of her rifle the better her aim became. And she was the one who was currently the most suspicious of you. Because she knew how deceiving girls could be.

And this was the kind of company that Ciel Phantomhive kept closest to him. They all knew each other’s secrets, were all well aware of the darkness that lay just beyond the facade of the little boy living in the lavish mansion. However, it was really the butler who was the most dangerous. Because wasn’t it always the one who waited to show his hand that ended up winning the game?

Undertaker knew that mystery was his greatest ally.

So did Sebastian.

And the two men had picked that up about each other discretely throughout dinner.

Even as Ciel and Undertaker talked business, the clash of chartreuse and deep crimson couldn’t help but find each other every so often, a sneaking glance at one’s positions about the room or an attempt to migrate a little closer to overhear a particular topic of interest couldn’t be helped.

And Ciel was aware of this as well. He just played it off like he was none the wiser, continuing to engage in conversation with his competition— guest— and attempt to feel out where he was currently placed on the chessboard that was the gangs of London.

Currently, Ciel was the king. He was confident in that much. But this man was working his way towards checkmate, he had a feeling, each side’s pawns at the ready for when the deadly move would inevitably be made.

“So…” Undertaker said, finally finding the right place to bring up this particular topic now that enough useless pleasantries had been exchanged. “How long have you been doing business with Lau? I met with him just recently and he seemed like quite the eccentric. One has to wonder how someone forms a deal with a man like that…”

“Well,” Ciel replied, “unlike most of my other connections, which were originally made through my parents as well as the previous generations, Lau was one that I made all on my own. While I can’t discuss the specifics of the circumstances in which we originally met, I can say that we’ve been quite loyal to each other.” Ciel’s one-eyed stare narrowed, seeming to jab at Undertaker with the minute expression alone. “I suppose you could say that our business ventures aligned in just the right place at just the right time.”

Undertaker forced a friendly smile— as friendly as a smirk followed by the fantasy of nailing the child into a coffin and burying him while he was still breathing could be— and laced his fingers together on the tabletop.

“If I may ask…” he began again. “Did Mr. Lau ask for a share in your company upon making the initial deal?”

Ciel’s self-assured energy stuttered then, face dropping to something that almost looked like he thought Undertaker was messing with him before returning to a sly smile and matching Undertaker’s sitting position, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon the table, fingers interlocked just the same.

“I can’t discuss the details of a partnership outside of the partnership itself,” said the boy, choosing his next words very carefully, counting on Sebastian to pay attention as well from a distance. “However…” Ciel leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a quiet mutter. Though he needn’t have worried about being overheard. You and Lizzy were still deep into your own enthusiastic engagement. “If Lau’s making such an offer, I would take it. The man’s global reach is far greater than he lets on.”

Undertaker stored that piece of information somewhere safe in his brain, fully intending on revisiting it later. But for now, he simply nodded at Ciel and leaned back in his chair, calm grin secured in place.

“I see…” he said with a smooth nod. “Well, I suppose I have some things to consider then.”

“—You mean it?!”

Ciel and Undertaker’s heads turned to both you and Lizzy further down the table where the outburst had just sounded from.

Lizzy was smiling from ear to ear, hands clasped together in front of her chest as she went on, “I’d love to! Oh, Ciel! Listen to this!” Ciel and Undertaker exchanged a quick flicker of a side glance, both suddenly equally nervous at what the little blonde girl was about to say next.

Lizzy lightly touched a hand to your shoulder, your smile widening a bit as well. “She’s just had the brilliant idea for the four of us to take a vacation together sometime!” Ciel and Undertaker’s blood froze in their veins, Undertaker’s only heating back up once a slow rage began to seep into his body. “Wouldn’t that be fun!”

But you were unaware of Undertaker’s frustration and disappointment in your forwardness with the people who could very well turn out to be his enemies sooner rather than later.

She doesn’t know any better, he tried to convince himself as to not have a repeat of the picture posting incident and make you upset again.

He would have to have a serious conversation with you once you were home though.

“Perhaps someday…” Ciel began awkwardly, also not wanting to upset his girl who Undertaker noticed carried the same easy excitement as you usually did. “Though I’m sure Undertaker is just as busy these days as I am.”

“I guess we’ll just have to do it ourselves then,” Lizzy replied in a bratty tone with her nose in the air, her arm around you now and yours around her, already comfortable around the girl who was shaping up to be your new best friend.

You did like Lizzy. However, the more you two talked and laughed together the more you were realizing that, while you were very similar at your core, your outer shells had been treated differently, causing your behaviors to diverge.

Because when Lizzy talked back or tried to argue with Ciel, she wasn’t hit or yelled at or made to take a timeout in her room. She was allowed to say and do as she pleased, with or without Ciel’s approval.

Your spike of jealousy had been curled up in a cocoon for a while now, soon to emerge as a butterfly of raging resentment.

But not towards your new friend.

No, not towards her.

But towards Undertaker.

Because if he’d treated you differently— more fairly, you’d decided— then you too might just be able to take Lizzy and retreat to some foreign resort for the weekend regardless of the boys’ work schedules.

Though, for now, unable to stick it to Undertaker like Lizzy seemed to be able to do to Ciel, you just agreed through a chuckle with a simple, “Yeah!”

And at this, Undertaker felt you pulling on the leash.

***

“Perhaps you ought to stay the night,” Ciel strategically suggested as the hands on the clock drifted further into the later hours of the evening and the rain that had begun to pick up outside hammered harder against the windows. “The storm should be clear by morning.”

You and Lizzy were ecstatic, the mere idea of having a sleepover filling you both with exhilaration. 

“I think we should head back…” Undertaker began, watching your anticipation morph into pitiful disappointment in an instant. “It’s not very far back to my estate. A little rain never—”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase!” you begged pathetically, clutching onto Lizzy who was holding onto you just as tightly like two children who didn’t want their play date to end. “Please can’t we stay! We can leave first thing in the morning!” Undertaker’s patience with you was really being tested tonight yet, at least in front of his competition, he didn’t want it to seem that way.

Just like how you wanted Lizzy to believe that you also had freedom, that your relationship was just as healthy as her and Ciel’s seemed to be, Undertaker wanted Ciel to believe that he was as calm and unphased when it came to his girl.

“Well…” Undertaker sighed. “I suppose one night wouldn’t kill us.”

He was going to make you pay for this kindness later, this time with interest.

“Yay!” you and Lizzy both exclaimed as you hugged each other.

Sebastian was going to go prepare a guest room upstairs while Ciel and Undertaker headed into another room to further speak on topics that good little girls like the two of you weren’t allowed to hear, you and Lizzy keeping each other company in Lizzy’s room.

However, before you parted ways, you approached Undertaker timidly, little hands wringing themselves in front of you as you muttered meekly, “U-um… Th-thank you for letting us stay, Daddy. I really appreciate it.”

When you looked up at him through your lashes with those adorable puppy dog eyes and a sweet smile, some of Undertaker’s temper simmered down. He stroked the back of your head with one palm before pulling you closer to kiss your forehead, reminding you to behave yourself and not wander around.

You told him of course, promising to listen in the moment but unable to really convince yourself that you’d abide by those rules the longer you were away from him.

Besides.

This place was so big, so new.

How could you not explore it a little bit?

“C’mon!” Lizzy grabbed your hand, taking off towards her room with you. “Let’s go!”

And just like that, any nerves or anxiety you’d felt as consequence for pushing for what you wanted disappeared through the rose-colored haze of the delicate pinks and whites that painted your new friend’s room.

Lizzy showed you her many dresses, some of which you’d seen on display in stores before and wanted so badly to have for yourself, and you explained some secret tips and tricks you had to thank for your social media popularity.

And all seemed right.

All seemed fine.

All seemed good.

Too bad that nothing lasts forever.

***

Ron and Othello had waited on the Chinese side of the docks for more than four hours, hands shoved deep into their pockets to try and shield them from the cold and making smalltalk here and there when the silence that fell between them grew awkward.

But the closer it neared to midnight, the more they had to focus.

And when two figures started down the docks towards the supply crates, they stopped being friends and started turning into hunters, falling into step with the men and already holding their guns at the ready.

The instructions had been to simply investigate the shipments, only kill if it became absolutely necessary as offing more of Lau’s men could result in the severing of the potential deal that had been discussed back in Tokyo.

But Ron was itching for a fight, for any reason to pull the trigger, resentment towards himself and his boss only having grown since the last time he saw you.

It was really you who was causing his blood to boil, to make his emotions run wild and cloud his head with this need to take out his frustrations on someone.

But Ron didn’t blame you.

He just blamed the circumstances in which you’d found yourself, the man who held the leash that you were always tethered to.

But pets could run away, given the chance, Ron thought. Maybe all he had to do was hope Undertaker accidentally left the front door open the next time he was on his way out.

“Whoa, whoa, wait—” Othello stopped them, holding out a hand that Ron bumped into.

“What? What is it?” Ron hissed in a whisper, watching the two men get further away and beginning to panic.

We can’t lose them.

Othello held his ground, narrowing his eyes at their targets before shaking his head and saying, “It’s a trap.”

Ron let out an exasperated sigh, going to push past his colleague. “Like hell it is. C’mon.”

“No, really.” Othello’s tone darkened as he stood frozen in place in the middle of the docks, Ron only making it two more strides before turning back to face him. Only when he saw Othello’s grave expression did he consider his warning to be true.

“So what now then, huh?” Ron asked, voice still low to prevent his words from carrying over the water, gesturing his arms out to his sides dramatically, gun visible in one hand. “Are we just supposed to abandon the mission or…?”

Othello seemed to be looking or listening for something then, only the gentle ebb and flow of the calm ocean filling the void where their voices had just been. Then he nodded his head back in the direction they’d just come.

“Yeah, let’s get outta here. I’ll call the boss once we’re back and—”

“GET DOWN!”

Ron dove to tackle Othello just before a series of bullets whizzed past their heads, another duo appearing at the entrance to the docks with their weapons drawn.

Ron and Othello didn’t wait to start shooting back, Ron hitting one of their ambushers in the head, killing him instantly, while Othello managed to hit the other in the knee, bringing him down to the ground but still able to fire.

“Shit!” Ron swore under his breath as he peered over his shoulder and noticed the two who they'd been following coming towards them with pistols in their hands as well. “Othello, behind us!”

Othello corrected his missed shot on the remaining man who was bleeding out from his knee before turning his aim to the second set of enemies.

In the end, once the gunfire ceased and only Ron and Othello were remaining, Ron had sustained a bullet wound to his shoulder and a light graze to his cheek, Othello lucky enough to have gotten out unscathed.

“Fuckin’ cowards!” Ron growled as he gripped his bleeding shoulder. “I thought the boss was in a good place with their leader?”

“Well, that’s how it sounded, didn’t it?” Othello replied bitterly as he came over to inspect the severity of Ron’s injury. “Either way, we were trespassing on their territory. Unless their boss knew we were coming— which he didn’t— then they had no choice but to assume we were here to steal.”

“Whatever,” Ron sneered, shrugging away from Othello and pulling his blazer back over his shoulder, not caring if his blood ruined it. “We’re done here. Let’s go before more show up.”

But as Ron and Othello left the docks, they were still being watched.

Because, hidden in the safety of the shadows between the shipment containers was Lau.

And he’d seen the whole thing, smirking like the devil as his plan had played out perfectly before his very eyes.

He knew that Undertaker’s men were the real deal. That they were loyal and dangerous and determined. And if Lau wasn’t going to enter into an agreement with their boss, he had better start planning how he was going to kill every last member of the Aurora Society before Undertaker caught on.

***

Undertaker had come back to claim you from Lizzy’s room just after midnight.

He’d taken Othello’s call, been filled in by him and Ron about what had just transpired down by the docks and given them the go ahead to return to headquarters and spread the news to Grell and Will, saying that he’d be back tomorrow where they could discuss their next course of action.

But you’d had no inclination of the hostility that was growing on all sides of this three way chess game— not of Ciel’s true nature or even aware that this Lau person existed in the first place, not even given the news that, while he was ok, Ron had been injured— as Undertaker guided you back to the guest room the two of you would share and, to your surprise, simply just got into bed and fell asleep with you in his arms.

You supposed your payment for him letting you stay would come tomorrow night once you’d returned home, Undertaker not trusting the people here with the possibility of catching either of you in such a vulnerable state, but you were tired after tonight as well so you couldn’t complain.

However, it seemed as if the moment your head hit the pillow, your brain snapped awake, that urge to explore reigniting ten fold which every tick of the wall clock.

So, once you were sure Undertaker was asleep, you carefully and quietly wriggled from his grasp and tiptoed out of the room, praying the door wouldn’t creak when it opened. And it didn’t, so you closed it behind you just as cautiously before taking the biggest risk of the night and beginning to sneak around the dark, eerily silent mansion.

At first, you mainly just wanted to have some time alone with your thoughts. You didn’t always trust your emotions to not give you away when you were in Undertaker’s presence. Something as small as an unsettled pulse or uneven breathing could cause him to question you. Like you’d said before, Undertaker knew your own body better than you sometimes.

But tonight, as you slowly strolled about the empty halls, you found your mind becoming surprisingly clear.

It was a nice change, for once. Not having to spin your wheels about what to do about Ron or worry where you stood with Undertaker.

You were actually content, you thought.

You’d made a new friend, seemed to be getting along well with your lover— even if he had been secretly upset with you at one point or another throughout the evening— and didn’t feel as tempted by the affair you’d once pursued as you had a few weeks ago.

Maybe your rough patch had cleared up, you hoped.

Maybe things really would be good from here on out.

However, when a tall shadow crept up behind you as you absentmindedly stared up at a large family portrait in one of the halls, your heart nearly jumped out of your throat.

“It’s a little late to be wandering around…” the butler’s smooth voice spoke, causing you to gasp and whirl around to face the towering figure. “Perhaps you were in need of a glass of water and lost your way?”

You couldn’t quite describe the feeling— this sinking, undeniable terror that overtook you— but it made your body freeze and your words unable to form as you just stood there and gaped up at him.

“I… I— um…” you stammered.

“Allow me to direct you back to your room.” The butler leaned in closer, your back finding the wall as you instinctively retracted a step.

“I-I really would like a glass of water,” you then said, finally finding your voice and squeaking out what you prayed would be a convincing enough excuse.

Sebastian’s cruel and sinister malice dropped then, his posture straightening as he replied, “Well then, allow me to bring some to you. I’ll deliver it to your room, so please do hurry back. It will take but a moment.”

With that, he waited for you to begin back towards the direction you’d been instructed to travel and when you were halfway down the hall you peered back over your shoulder to see if he was still watching you. He was gone, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone’s eyes were still following you, as if the many portraits had suddenly come to life and had their oil painted gazes honed in on you.

And, honestly, you would’ve gone right back to your room just like you’d promised, even having an excuse to tell Undertaker if he’d happened to wake up and wondered why you’d left bed, but a door that you hadn’t noticed on your way down that was left slightly ajar caught your eye.

You looked behind you again and, still seeing no one despite that odd feeling that you were always being watched, approached the door to open it a little wider, wincing when a low creak sounded for a split second.

It appeared to be some kind of office, a big desk by an unlit fireplace with a plush velvet armchair placed behind it, a stack of papers perched neatly on one corner. As you poked your head in further and squinted through the dark you could make out several bookshelves lining the walls, an expensive looking rug, and some more armchairs placed before the desk.

So he works from home, you took note of. Clearly he wasn’t anywhere near as powerful as Undertaker was. Undertaker had an entire building full of offices aside from his personal one.

If he could’ve heard the naivety of your internal thoughts, Undertaker probably would’ve smirked to himself about how innocently cute you’d been in that moment.

You then dared to step inside, slipping through the thinnest gap you could and entering the dark office, the drawn curtains of the window offering some moonlight to seep in and cast illuminating outlines over certain pieces of furniture. You tread carefully, not wanting to knock anything over or even so much as stub your toe.

You knew you had to be quick. If that butler knocked on your guest room door to deliver you your glass of water and woke up Undertaker, who was sure to be confused as to why you were missing if he was still unaware, only for them to come face to face, you’d be in real trouble for sure.

You instantly migrated towards the stack of papers that sat on the edge of the desk.

You didn’t want to risk shuffling through them and leaving a hint that someone had been snooping, but you did want to know more about the little boy who Undertaker seemed so intrigued with when it came to business.

You’d expected to find something relating to the underworld in the contents of the page that was exposed to your view, but instead you found yet another realization— another familiarity.

Funtom Toy and Confectionary Company.

That was the front that Ciel Phantomhive had for all his nefarious activities.

So now you just couldn’t figure it out.

Just what exactly did a medical research facility run by a bunch of gangsters and a toy company owned by a child have in common?

A set of hands found you then, one pulling a wrist behind your back and pinning you down to the desk in front of you, hips digging into the wood, while the other covered your mouth and muffled a scream that jumped out of you at the sudden startle.

“I don’t believe this is your room…” the butler’s voice growled in a low, menacing tone. Still though, it sounded as if he were smiling while he said it. That only made you more afraid. “It’s not very good manners to snoop around a home that you’re a guest in, now is it?”

Your whole body was shaking. You tried to wriggle from his grasp but when he had you pinned he really had you pinned. The more you struggled the more painful his grip on your wrist became, pulling your arm further behind your back until it felt like it would snap. You hissed through the pain, sound still stifled by his gloved hand.

“Did he send his puppy to do some digging?” Sebastian pressed, whispering in your ear now. You closed your eyes as tight as you could, quaking even harder as tears began to form.

You really thought that this was it.

That this man would have his way with you then kill you all because you just couldn’t do as anyone told you anymore.

“I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to find, but sending you to do his bidding was a mistake on his part.”

“Please—” you tried to beg, voice sounding strange and pathetic from under his hand.

He pressed you harder into the desk and you yelped out in pain. You could’ve tried to thrash around and scream, but you were too afraid that he’d just break your arm and then slit your throat.

But Undertaker is here, you remembered. He might not have been able to save you but he sure as hell wouldn’t have left without getting revenge.

“So tell me, my dear…” Sebastian went on. “Just what exactly are you searching for?”

He uncovered your mouth then and immediately you sucked in a sharp gasp, ready to shriek as loud as you could. Sebastian foresaw this and covered your mouth again quickly, muffling your cries and further twisting your arm, making your breath stutter and the tears that had formed finally begin to fall.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” he warned. But you weren’t really listening anymore, too deafened by your hitching sobs and pounding pulse to hear much else. 

But then the butler seemed to give pause to his rather ungentlemanly actions, tensing as he heard the nearly silent footsteps of someone else approaching from down the hall. It wasn’t a gait he recognized as his master’s or one of the servants, not even Lizzy.

He dropped you and swiftly retreated to stand by the door, which swung open moments later, Undertaker standing in the doorway wearing a robe and with his hair only slightly tangled from the little bit he’d managed to sleep.

“What are you—” he began, almost furiously— no doubt would’ve gotten there had he been able to finish his sentence.

But the butler cut him off.

“I was just about to come get you,” he lied. You’d turned back to face them, trembling hands gripping the desk behind you for dear life, tears still streaking down your cheeks. “I found her wandering the halls—” Your brow twitched into a scowl. If this man was going to throw you under the bus like that then you wouldn’t hesitate to tell Undertaker what he’d just done to you. “She was sleepwalking, I’m afraid.” You now looked at the butler with confusion. “I didn’t want to wake her, startle or upset her, so I was just making sure that she didn’t hurt herself until I could guide her back to your room.”

You couldn’t see Undertaker’s face very well through the dark, but he was narrowing his gaze at you with both concern and suspicion, as if asking you to confirm this. You remained silent, still in shock.

“Sleepwalking?” Undertaker repeated then, the word coming out oddly as if he’d never said it before and was testing the pronunciation.

“I’ve heard you’re not supposed to wake a sleepwalking person,” Sebastian continued, lying as calm and calculated as if he’d rehearsed it. “However, when the young lady began to migrate into my master’s office, I had no choice but to try and coax her out.”

Undertaker finally came to be by your side, putting an arm around you and looking down at you with worry, rubbing a hand up and down your side and asking you quietly if you were ok as you continued to cry and shake.

“I’m afraid I startled her after all.” Sebastian gave a graceful bow. “My sincerest apologies for upsetting you.”

You couldn’t believe it.

This man was a better liar than Undertaker, than anyone you’d ever met, so much so that a part of you actually was starting to believe his story even though you knew it was false.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Undertaker replied as he began to guide you out of the room, you clutching to him tighter as you passed the butler whose gaze was glued to you. “I’ll keep a closer eye on her.”

“If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.” Sebastian smiled then, the expression of faked pleasantry so authentic that, if he hadn’t just threatened your life, you would’ve thought him to be nothing short of generous and kind. 

Undertaker brought you back to your room safely, though you were still shaken. You were conflicted if you should just tell him what had happened and risk ruining everything or keep your mouth shut. For now, it looked like your body was making that choice for you as you were struggling to speak, let alone breathe.

“It’s because you’re not used to sleeping in a bed other than our own…” Undertaker asked with care as he sat beside you on the guest bed and combed his fingers through your hair, holding you close but still trying to look into your eyes. “Isn’t it?”

You just buried your face into his fluffy robe and let out a few more sobs until he lifted you into his arms and began to rock you back and forth slowly, soothing his baby.

“Shh, shh…” he cooed gently. “It’s going to be alright. Tomorrow we’ll be back home and then we never have to stay here again. There, there…”

He didn’t even remind you that this had been your idea, your fault because you’d insisted on staying.

He really is too good for me, you thought regretfully as you drifted off to sleep.

Why can’t I just be good for him…

***

The next day when you’d arrived home, Undertaker had continued to show you the utmost care and compassion, not wanting to leave your side and trying to ask you if you remembered anything from when you were sleepwalking, but you insisted that you didn’t.

Then you kicked yourself for continuing to lie to him, even if, in your eyes, it was for his own good, whatever that even meant anymore.

He’d drawn you a bath, helping you out of your dress and into the tub where he would wash you, still sensing something was wrong but not pressing for answers for once.

However, when he saw the bruises on your hips and around your wrist, he couldn’t hold back a sinking suspicion that had briefly occurred to him last night when he’d first found that butler in the office with you.

“Where did these come from?” he asked, lightly running his fingers over the spots of black and blue.

“I don’t know…” you replied tiredly, trauma still fading at the mere thought of what had happened last night. “Must’ve run into something when I was sleepwalking…”

The two of you had departed early, Ciel awake and just beginning to sip at his early morning tea and Lizzy still fast asleep. Undertaker had gotten you settled in the car before returning to thank his host for dinner and letting the two of you stay the night, promising to be in touch sometime in the near future.

“I look forward to it,” Ciel had replied with a nod, hiding his smirk behind the porcelain teacup.

You’d wanted to say goodbye to Lizzy, but the two of you could always message each other over social media. You figured that once you felt like yourself again you’d get in contact with her and make something up as to why you hadn’t given her a formal farewell.

But now Undertaker placed his hands on you like he could imagine someone would if they’d wanted to hurt you, as if he knew exactly how to form such bruises. The distance was slightly different from his own reach, but it appeared as if someone most definitely had done this to you deliberately.

He sighed to himself before taking up the warm washcloth and gingerly continuing to run it over your shoulders and back. “From now on, if there’s any business to be discussed with Ciel Phantomhive, I’ll be going alone.”

You didn’t protest.

That in itself was uncharacteristic of you, especially since Undertaker was sure that you’d want to see your new friend again.

“I want you to stay as far away from him and anyone associated with him as you can,” he went on, meeting your eyes now. “Do you understand?”

But what about Lizzy, you then wanted to whine.

Instead you just looked down at the marks on your wrist from below the surface of the water and gave a weak, “Yes, Daddy…” with a slight nod.

Undertaker kissed your temple, smoothing back a few stray strands of your wet hair then, viewing you with such protection and love that you almost wanted to start crying again.

Besides, the sabotaging traitor in your head whispered, you can still be friends with Lizzy over social media. It’s not like Undertaker has access to your account.

“Good girl,” he said, standing to grab one of the fluffy black towels that were under the sink. Then his phone vibrated with a message from Grell, informing him that he was on his way to the mansion— along with Ron, Will, and Othello who were all driving themselves individually— and Undertaker shot back a quick message saying that he could wait in the entrance if he arrived early.

“I have to meet with the others tonight,” Undertaker only then informed you as the tub began to drain. You shot him a worried look. “But it’ll be held here, so I’m not leaving.” He settled your concern. “So why don’t you just stay up here or go watch a movie downstairs in the meantime?”

You didn’t specify which option sounded better, just simply nodded as you stood from the bath and let Undertaker begin to dry you off.

Then, unprompted, Undertaker simply assured you, “It’s all going to be ok, so don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

You just stared at him, wondering what was going to be ok, what was going to be fine?

Did he somehow have proof of what that butler had done to you— other than the bruises— and was now planning retaliation?

Was he going to have to go far away somewhere to battle it out over a business matter gone wrong?

You didn’t know, but you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“Just trust me, sweetheart,” he assured you, gaze steady yet intense. “I’m going to protect you no matter what.”

If only he knew.

***

This was so much bigger than Lau or the docks or the trade.

It was bigger than a kid and his toy company or a shady medical front controlled by dozens of killers.

It was no longer a one on one competition, like Undertaker had originally thought.

This whole thing was quickly turning into an all out war, each individual soldier unsure of what side they were really on or who they were supposed to aim at, everyone their only ally with a hundred enemies at every turn.

Because there was treason within Undertaker’s own company, within his own home.

There was treachery between his newfound ally of the Phantomhive household and the girl that he loved.

And Lau was planning on screwing over as many people as he could once he obtained the right deal.

Secrets were being held all across the chessboard that was the gangs of London, however all the rules had changed.

Pieces could move wherever and whenever they pleased, no regard for whose turn it was supposed to be or which pieces held more power.

And in all Undertaker’s years of heading this organization, things had never gotten as ugly or messy as they were currently shaping up to be.

Even his confidants were starting to get concerned, Ron and Othello recounting what had gone down at the docks while Grell and William gave their opinions on how to proceed next.

“I say we just kill them all and take over their territory,” Grell suggested with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s just wipe the entire team off the playing field.”

“Yes, but if we did that then it would cause an uproar among their allies, one of which includes that Phantomhive boy, and then we may lose the deal all together,” Will corrected with a sigh.

“We still don’t even know if their attack on us was deliberate or not,” Othello cut in. “They could’ve just been guarding their territory.”

Ron remained silent.

The four of them tossed around more ideas and theories, more plots for eradicating enemies and casting a wider net of their own interest, until Undertaker had finally had enough and interrupted with the final say.

“Lau and I have still not made a formal deal,” he admitted, silencing the others at once. “When I meet with him again, as long as all goes according to plan, we should be in a little better standing afterward. I’ll talk to him about familiarizing his men with your faces so we don’t have a deadlier repeat of what happened last night.”

“For all we knew it could’ve been payback for that time I tried to get one of them to talk,” Othello mumbled as he crossed his arms.

“No matter,” Undertaker continued, standing from his seat at the head of the table, meeting eyes with each of his men individually. “We can sort out the finer details later. What matters right now is protecting our shares and securing the profit. Ron…” Undertaker nodded at him. “I trust you brought the report like I asked?”

“Oh, right! Yeah.” Ron perked up. “I left it in the car though. I can go grab it…” He was already standing from his seat. “I’ll only be a minute. Carry on.”

So they did.

As Ron traveled upstairs from the basement level, presumably to retrieve the files from where he’d stored them in the glovebox of his Corvette, the others resumed their conversation about business.

But Ron had some other ideas on his way into the main entrance of the mansion.

Because he wanted to see you.

Especially after he’d had a brush with death on the docks.

It had been so long, or at least felt that way, and he wanted to make sure that you were doing alright. Wanted to see your sweet smile and hear the playful lilt of your carefree laughter.

He didn’t know where you were, but he knew there were only a few places you were likely to be.

If you weren’t curled up on the couch watching TV in the main living area, then you might’ve been in the kitchen skimming snacks even though it was nearing nine. And if you weren’t up to any good on the first floor, then surely you had to be getting into trouble on the second.

Ron started up the stairs and turned down the hall towards your room— the one you shared with his boss, the one where he’d gone down on you mere moments before Undertaker had returned home, making you moan and whine and say his name— and just like he’d predicted, you were there.

He could hear you humming a catchy little tune to yourself from beyond the closed doors. He stood and listened for a moment, trying to recognize the song before giving the intricately engraved wood a soft knock.

Your humming ceased and when the door cracked open, you sucked in a gasp and sat up stick straight on the bed, afraid you were about to be caught eating ice cream by Undertaker as you’d snuck down for a rule breaking sweet afterall, but then relaxed a bit when you realized it was only Ron.

Wait.

It was Ron?

“Hey…” he greeted with a slightly nervous smirk, coming in and closing the door behind him before you could tell him to leave. “I missed you, princess. How’ve you been?”

You didn’t know what to say. Truly, you were speechless. You just kept the tiny silver spoon in your mouth and focused on the cold that lingered from your last bite before finally finding the words you wanted to say.

“What… happened to you?” you inquired upon noticing the graze that marked Ron’s cheek, a thin slice right under the bottom of his glasses frame.

“Huh?” Ron looked genuinely confused for a second before remembering. Then he scratched the back of his head and gave a shaky chuckle as he took a few more steps towards you. “Oh, this? Ah, it’s nothin’. I’m fine. But what about you?” He sat on the end of the bed, now only a few feet away. “I heard you went to a dinner party last night. Was it fun?”

You knew what he was doing.

He’d done it before.

But this time, despite Ron’s fragile attempts to get back into your good graces, you didn’t give in as easily as you had before.

So instead of giving him a beaming smile and going on excitedly about how you’d made a new friend— maybe even dared to disclose to him what had happened with that butler— you simply gave a lazy, single-shouldered shrug and took another bite of your dessert as your tired gaze shifted to the floor.

“It was alright…” you muttered. Then Ron just stared at you until you finally shot your gaze back at him. “What?” you asked. It wasn’t harsh or accusatory. It was genuinely curious. You really couldn’t tell what he wanted this time. If he was just here to try and get you under him again or if he’d actually been missing you and only wanted to chat.

But Ron seemed to snap out of his daze then, averting his eyes from you as he said, “Sorry. It’s just… I just missed you, is all.”

“I—” You stopped yourself short, the rest of that sentence lodged in your throat.

I missed you too.

But you cleared your throat and concluded with, “I’ve been busy…”

“Haven’t we all?” Ron attempted to joke sarcastically, cracking a crooked smile again.

And, god, you wanted to hug him, to feel him holding you in his arms again and stroking your hair, his touch warm and gentle unlike the chilled and strategic contact of Undertaker’s skin on yours.

“Is the meeting over yet?” you forced yourself to ask then.

Ron gave pause.

“Uh, actually…” he then admitted. “I have to get back to that. I just wanted to drop by and say hello, make sure that, y’know…” He shrugged and paused again, as if he expected you to know exactly what he was talking about. When you offered no inclination, he concluded with, “I wanted to make sure that we were still ok.”

Your shoulders slumped a bit with a small sigh.

“Ron…” You gave him a sympathetic smile. “Of course we’re fine. But it’s like I said…” You reached over to set your ice cream dish and spoon on the nightstand, momentarily positioned on all fours and unintentionally giving him a quick glimpse of your lace panties, these ones a baby pink. Ron’s face blushed a similar color and he nervously gulped as you turned back to face him, sitting cross legged and scooting a little closer.

You seemed sad now, eyes downcast once more and little fingers absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread that was sticking out from the comforter. “We can’t do that anymore… It’s just…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s too risky. I don’t want either of us to—”

But you were cut off this time by a kiss, Ron quickly closing in to touch his lips to yours, a little bit of his tongue slipping in and catching the flavor of your ice cream. It was the same one as the time in the car on the way back from the city. The incident that had started all of this in the first place. Seems like you were a creature of habit in more ways than one.

“Ron!” you gasped as you flinched away from the kiss. You covered your mouth and then your face as you felt it running hot and reddening. “Did you not hear what I just said?! What is wrong with you?!”

You felt tears threatening to form but tried to hold them back.

Because, truth be told, you weren’t mad at him for kissing you.

You were mad at him for making it so hard for you to stay away from him all the time, especially after you’d promised yourself that you’d stop.

You were easily tempted by forbidden things— be it strawberry blonde boys or butterscotch after nine or roaming around unfamiliar mansions— and Ron was turning into the snake that slithered around your gothic garden of Eden, whispering hypnotically about prohibited pleasures and dangerous decisions.

“I’m sorry,” Ron said through a smirk he was desperately trying to suppress. “Just wanted a little something to hold me over.”

He licked his lips before standing from the bed, leaving your chest heaving with the suspense of what he might do next and your eyes wide, brows pulled together in annoyance and worry. You didn’t tell him to get out that time, didn’t warn him to stay away. He was gone before your protests could catch up to your brain, your body keeping them at bay with the want, the need.

You hated him.

You craved him.

You feared him, what might become of either of you if Undertaker found out.

You wanted this to stop.

You wanted him to guard you again so you could finally complete the act that the two of you had slowly been inching closer towards since this all began on the three day leave Undertaker had gone on for work.

You didn’t know what you wanted anymore, who you wanted.

Well, actually that’s not true. You knew you wanted them both.

But that would never happen. Not in a million years.

So you had better sort this all out soon.

Because you didn’t have a million years.

You didn’t even have one hundred.

And you might find yourself laid out in a coffin and buried six feet deep courtesy of your current lover before you even survived one more month if you weren’t careful.

***

“What took so long?” Undertaker asked when Ron reentered the meeting room in the basement with the file in his hand.

“Halfway up the front steps,” Ron lied, “the folder slipped out of my hand and the papers flew everywhere. Had to gather them up before the wind blew them away. Sorry ‘bout that, boss.”

Undertaker’s distrusting emerald glare stuck on Ron for a few seconds after the report had been handed to him, searching for any signs that he shouldn’t take him at his word.

But Ron was a good liar too.

Not as good as Undertaker, sure.

But good enough to fool him with something as slight as dropping a folder.

“Be more careful next time,” Ron’s boss warned as he flipped the folder open to expose the front page. “If these get into the wrong hands, it won’t be good for any of us.”

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Ron repeated as he retook his seat. “Won’t happen again.”

So the group of them surveyed the numbers and agreed on the next course of action before the meeting was officially adjourned. It was nearly eleven o’clock once they all went their separate ways and the last car pulled out of the driveway.

Undertaker was exhausted.

He watched Grell’s cherry red Lamborghini speed out of sight down the long, winding road before allowing himself to turn towards the grand staircase and head up to see how you’d entertained yourself for the past few hours.

You were laying back on a bunch of pillows that you’d stacked around you and already half asleep, your earbuds playing low music from your phone which was sliding out of your hand as you drifted further unconscious.

Undertaker stood in the doorway and just watched you for a minute, eyes scanning up and down your body a few times before landing on your wrist where the bruises speckled your skin.

The butler had something to do with it. He just knew it.

The only question now was why weren’t you telling him what really happened that night?

Because you hadn’t been sleepwalking. He wished he could believe you but something deep down inside of his better judgement just wouldn’t let him.

And when you’d insinuated the notion that you’d go on a vacation with his enemy’s girl by yourself and without his permission, the way you’d acted when he wanted the two of you to leave and you’d insisted that you should stay…

Did that have something to do with that butler too? Were the two of you somehow secretly involved?

Stop it! Undertaker snapped at his horrible assumptions. She would never do that.

Oh, but wouldn’t you though?

That night when the two of you had been out to dinner and he’d noticed that mark on your neck…

He’d been right to punish you for it, hadn’t he?

Because you’d been a dirty little slut, hadn’t you? And for someone other than him, no less.

Perhaps it’s time to remind her who’s in charge here… Undertaker’s pent up rage growled.

But the thing that made him finally put his foot down and make a decision on how he was going to deal with you wasn’t because of the butler or a suspicious bruise.

Of all things, it was the empty ice cream dish sitting on the nightstand.

Because you’d gotten bold enough to disobey him in his own house.

And that had to change.

That had to be corrected.

“D-Daddy…?” you asked through a sleepy haze as your eyelids fluttered open. He advanced on you but you weren’t yet alert enough to react. “What’s going—”

“I think we need to have a little chat,” he cut in, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning over you, hands caging you in on either side. You plucked the earbuds from your ears and swallowed thickly as you stared up into his terrifying glower, body paralyzed as you wondered what you could’ve done now that had upset him so severely.

Undertaker kept you suspended in the mystery of your wrong doing before finally reaching over to grab your dessert dish and presenting it before you as if this were a crime scene and the dish the weapon you’d been caught red handed with.

Only then did you remember that you’d left it there.

After Ron had left you’d been too distracted, disturbed, confused— you didn’t even know anymore— to realize that you ought to go back downstairs and discard the evidence before the meeting ended.

“U-uh…” you stammered pitifully, already giving him puppy dog eyes to try and save yourself from the situation. “I’m sorry, I—”

“What’s the rule?” Undertaker tested you sternly. You closed your mouth, bottom lip beginning to quiver. However, ignoring your fear, he repeated again, leaning over you further with the question. “What’s… the rule?”

“N-no sweets after nine,” you answered through a mumble, your hands fumbling in front of you again.

You let out a short and startled gasp then as Undertaker swiftly squeezed your cheeks in one of his hands, his grip on your jaw tight and making you wince and try to pull away.

“What’s that?” he baited with a low growl. “I can’t hear you, sweetheart. Why don’t you speak up?”

That time, the nickname that you’d grown so accustomed to gave you goosebumps, and not in the same way it did when Undertaker praised you during sex or simply addressed you by it lovingly when he was in a good mood and you were draped across his lap.

That time, it was a threat dripping with scorn. He might as well have called you a bitch or a whore or any other variation of insult with the way his tone implied the word.

“P-please, Daddy, you’re hurting me!” you begged, trying and failing to pull away from his grasp once more, little hands gripping his wrists weakly. It was only when tears welled in your eyes that he eased off a little bit, though still didn’t let go.

“I believe I asked you a question, princess,” Undertaker spit, glare narrowing even more. “And you know I hate it when I don’t get an answer.” 

It was a warning he’d used on you before. Though again, never in the context of real impatience or anger. Only ever the pretend kind that he used as a dark form of foreplay. But you knew he was serious that time. Deadly serious. And the last thing he was doing was playing around.

“No sweets after nine!” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would save you from whatever was to come. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

“You seem to have formed a nasty habit lately, haven’t you?” And just like that, his voice was honey smooth again, though when you opened your eyes to see if his expression matched his tone, you were petrified when he appeared even more furious. “Do you need a reminder of what happens when you’re a bad girl?”

Your tears spilled over and your breathing picked up in panic.

It had only happened once since you’d known him, about a year ago.

You’d thought it would be funny to see just how far you could push him, thinking his rules were just something he put in place for fun, something that he secretly wanted you to break so he could call you naughty and bend you over his knee, pull your skirt up and give your ass a few slaps as a “warning” just for his own sexual satisfaction.

But that hadn’t been the case at all.

And you weren’t running around and giggling after he tied you to the bed and got the whip out, the long, thin crop leaving stinging lashes on your bare skin until he finally accepted the apologies you’d sobbed out through your begs for mercy.

And he’d let you sit with your mistake for a while, left the room so you could cry alone and feel the throbbing of the lashes on your tender behind until it occurred to you that he was not a man to be tested.

You’d received the message loud and clear and never tried to break his rules in front of him since.

But this was just one slip up, one tiny hiccup that you were sure he could forgive.

I mean, couldn’t he?

Maybe if you hadn’t done so many other things that went miles beyond a few house rules, he would’ve been willing to give you a lighter sentence and let you off easy for good behavior.

But that wasn’t the case this time.

And Undertaker was pinning you down and forcing your hands above your head before you even had time to try and defend yourself.

“Please!” You begged urgently, more sobs hitching in your chest as he tightly gripped both your wrists together in one massive palm, the bones grinding and making you hiss with pain, as his other hand reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out the pair of silver handcuffs. “Please, don’t! I-I’ll do anything! Please, Daddy! I’m so sorry!”

“And I’m sorry, princess,” Undertaker sighed, faking sympathy. “But I don’t know how else you’re going to learn.”

Once he’d secured you to the headboard he stepped off of you and went to the closet where he kept the whip up on a high shelf. You struggled to break free even though you knew it was futile, even going so far as to scream, like anyone could hear you.

Undertaker studied the crop before him, your panicked gaze staring wide-eyed at him as he strolled back towards the bed at a painfully slow pace.

“I don’t do this because I want to,” Undertaker tried to reason with you as you jerked and tugged at where the handcuffs secured you to the bed, the cold metal digging into your wrists and giving you a new ring of bruises. “I don’t do this because I like to…”

“P-please!” you attempted to negotiate one last time, your speech a little more coherent but still peppered with frantic breaths. “Please, Undertaker, don’t do this!”

Undertaker’s chartreuse glare was transfixed on the end of the crop, his voice smooth and even as he said, almost as if to himself, “Daddy works so hard to give you what you want, you know… He does everything he can to make sure that you’re happy, yet you just can’t be good for him, can you?” His eyes flicked to you then and you flinched. “I love you. You know that, don’t you, baby?”

You were crying uncontrollably again.

Because how could he say that with what he was about to do to you?

How could he say that before inflicting unwanted pain upon his precious little princess?

But because you were, despite it all, a good girl, even if sometimes you did bad things, you blinked the tears from your eyes as they stuck to your lashes and croaked out through the tightening in your throat, “I… I love you too, Daddy…”

“And it’s because I love you…” Undertaker was beside you now, setting the whip on the bedside table so he could flip you to lay on your stomach. “It’s because I love you that I have to do this. Because I’d be failing you if I continued to let you misbehave…” He hiked your skirt up and your panties down, the cold air and the fear making you tense up and shiver. “And I promised myself that I’d never fail you.”

You’d been afraid that night he’d fucked you hard, ignoring your pleas for him to stop and that he was hurting you. But that night, he’d been an animal. He’d been feral and relentless, thoughts clouded by jealousy.

Now, Undertaker was calm and calculated.

He was putting on the same air he had about him when he dealt with an enemy that had fallen into his grasp, when he slipped on those black taloned gloves and sliced away at them with a straight face no matter how loud they screamed.

And while you didn’t know about what went on in the basement of headquarters in that concrete, blood-stained cell, you did know what he was like when he was getting serious about a job.

And that’s what scared you most about this. He was treating it like it was a job, a task to be dealt with no matter how brutal.

And you knew that no matter what you said or did or how loud you screamed or begged for him to stop, he wouldn’t stop until he felt the job was done.

“I’m gonna need you to count for me, sweetheart,” he instructed. You could sense him raising the crop and you winced prematurely, burning your face into one of the pillows as you continued to repeat your pleas and apologies. “Count for me and maybe I’ll let you off easy,” he bargained.

Only then did you turn your head to the side so you could speak, tears still streaming from your eyes and dampening the pillow under your head, your entire body trembling as you knew it would start any second now.

The first one came down hard and sharp, the sound that echoed through the room mixed with your yelping sob making you feel sick to your stomach. It caught you by such surprise that you almost forgot to count.

“O-one…” you whimpered, tugging on the cuffs again.

The second one came down on the other cheek, your body recoiling as it tried to turn you onto your side and away from the pain against your will. Undertaker repositioned you back where he wanted you and examined the throbbing red lashes on your ass, ignoring your pitiful discomfort as he reminded you to keep counting.

“Two…” you whined reluctantly.

He hit you a third time, a fourth, a fifth, and by the sixth your entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You wondered if you were bleeding. You hadn’t the first time, just been sore and red and bruised for days afterward, making it hard to sit right. But with how hard he was hitting you now, it made the first time seem like a game, like he’d merely been toying with you after all.

No, this time was entirely about punishment.

He was going to make sure the message was received loud and crystal fucking clear.

“Seven!” you squeaked out, getting a little used to the pain but still hissing and wincing with every hit. You hoped that maybe you were starting to go numb and each new strike would be felt a little less.

“Should I stop?” Undertaker asked, and you didn’t answer. It had to be rhetorical, only used to mess with you, right? When the eighth strike came down you got your answer. You counted it off and felt yourself getting dizzy. All the crying and hyperventilating mixed with the sharpness of the pain was going to knock you out.

“Please…” you breathed out then, voice reduced to a quiet and feeble rasp.

Undertaker was about to slash down the crop for a ninth, but then stopped his swing midair.

It was all coming back to him now, the weight of what he’d done and who he’d allowed himself to become towards you again.

Your ass was beet red and throbbing relentlessly with pain, four lashes stricken across each of your butt cheeks in jagged lines and unsymmetrical patterns, some of which trailed onto the backs of your thighs.

The Black Reaper had emerged to teach an enemy a lesson, but you were no enemy.

You were his sweet baby girl. Sure, you’d done some things to disobey him. And, yeah, he’d actually been really mad about it.

But this…

This was something only a monster would do to a girl like you, leaving her helpless and breathless and quivering while handcuffed to the headboard just because he’d lost his temper.

Undertaker had been able to apologize once for the violent slip-up, though he doubted he’d be able to make it up to you anywhere near as easily as he had last time.

Because this was unforgivable.

And now you were going to leave him.

You were going to leave him all alone in his big, eerie mansion with nothing but the droning of the grandfather clock every hour on the hour and the sound of rain pelting against the window panes during a storm.

So he didn’t try to express his sorrow and concern and hold you close to him.

He unlocked the handcuffs and staggered out of the bedroom, bringing the whip with him, leaving you to curl up into a shivering little ball on top of the bedsheets and silently cry yourself into unconsciousness.

Undertaker retreated to his personal office in the opposite wing of the manor, locking himself inside and falling into the armchair behind his desk, crop placed on the desk before him and head in his hands as he tried to figure out where everything had gone wrong.

***

You’d refused to speak to Undertaker for five days.

You’d never gone that long without talking to him.

He’d said about a total of three sentences to you in that time, but he knew that you had a right to ignore him and didn’t want to push you even further away.

Because you hadn’t left like he’d feared you would.

You’d opted to sleep in the guest room furthest from his master bedroom and only stayed in the same room as him for the shortest amount of time possible if you just so happened to be passing through.

But you’d thought about leaving.

When you’d seen the marks he’d left on you in the mirror of the guest bathroom the following afternoon you’d nearly started crying again. They’d already started turning black and blue and it hurt to sit, to walk, to move.

But where would you go?

You weren’t going back to live with your parents. You’d sort of cut contact with them after you’d admitted to dropping out of university in your senior year. They’d been paying your tuition and had had some choice words to say to you once you’d broken the news. But you’d just moved in with Undertaker by then and didn’t necessarily feel like you needed or even cared about their approval anymore.

You couldn’t go stay in your old London flat either. Sure, your friend who still lived there would gladly lend you the couch for a few days, maybe even a few weeks. But there were others there who you couldn’t admit defeat to. Your stubbornness oftentimes seemed to get the better of you, but your pride was always the winner at the end of the day.

You could take some money out of your savings— which wasn’t much since you hadn’t worked in a few years now— and go stay in the cheapest room of any hotel for a while…

Maybe you should just give your parents a call and explain…

You didn’t know what you wanted to do, but you sure as hell couldn’t stay here for much longer after what had happened.

You scrolled through your phone and considered each of your contacts carefully.

You’d narrowed it down to Grell and Ron.

You’d never seen where Grell lived before, but you were sure that he’d tell his boss if you went to stay with him. And that would put him in a sticky situation and you didn’t want to do that to him.

But Ron…

You weren’t sure if Ron would rat you out, but he was the only option you had.

You snuck out to the black rose gardens and walked all the way to the gate that surrounded the property, the twisted iron once again reminding you that this wasn’t a home, it was a prison and you were the poor soul trapped inside. You clicked the call button and closed your eyes as you waited through the painful ringing.

Please pick up…

Pleeeeeaaaase pick up…

Ron said your name before so much as a hello.

When he asked you what was wrong or if you were in any kind of trouble, you just started crying.

“Oh my god,” he continued with genuine worry. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to come get you? What’s going on?”

You sobbed and sniffled for a few more beats before finally composing yourself enough to answer. “Um… S-something happened the other night and I…” You hesitated, wondering again if he’d be more loyal to you or his boss.

“I’m on my way,” Ron said then, but you replied quickly that time.

“N-no!” you warned. You let out a shuddering breath and then continued with, “No, um… Let me come to you. I’ll have to make something up… I-I’ll say I’m going to stay with a friend or something. I…”

You’d have to pack a bag.

How would you get all your clothes out? All your jewelry and shoes and bags?

No, you scolded yourself for being so stupid, so greedy. That doesn’t matter. What matters right now is getting out of here. As long as you had your phone everything else could wait, or just be abandoned entirely as most of it hadn’t been yours before meeting Undertaker anyway.

But was this really it?

Were you really walking away for good?

“Just leave,” Ron then instructed. You asked him what he meant. “Don’t say anything. Just leave.” That idea hadn’t occurred to you.

“But what if he—”

“Listen, just…” From the other side of the call, Ron was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, his glasses pushing up a bit. He didn’t really know how he was going to get away with this either, but one thing he did know above all else was that he wasn’t going to abandon you while you were in need. Not when you seemed so desperate for his help. “Look, can you get to the main road that runs by the mansion?”

You told him it was about a mile away, but sure, you could walk that far. That would put you out of Undertaker’s sight at least, if he didn’t try and follow you.

“I’ll pick you up from there, alright,” Ron informed you as he was already getting into his car and starting the key in the ignition. “It’s all gonna be alright. Don’t worry. Just try and leave without letting him know, if you can.”

It didn’t feel right, not at least telling Undertaker that you were going somewhere.

You’d become so used to letting him know your every move, informing him if you were so much as traveling from one room to another inside the house.

But he doesn’t deserve to know, you decided. Anyone who hurts me deserves to be abandoned, left wondering where I’ve gone.

You hoped he would be worried when he realized you’d left. You hoped he’d be frantic, searching every nook and cranny of the mansion until he finally accepted your absence, gave in, and tried to call you. And you wouldn’t pick up, because the moment you found yourself sitting beside Ron in the passenger seat you’d silence your phone. Undertaker would call over and over and over again only to endure the droning rings before being sent to voicemail every single time.

God, you hoped it hurt him.

You hoped it hurt him even just a fraction of how badly he’d hurt you.

Because the lashes would fade.

The crack in his heart in knowing that he’d lost his most precious love would linger for centuries, if he had that long.

And maybe you were tired of being good, of considering how others felt over yourself.

Maybe it was high time that you decided to be bad, find someone who not only let you break rules but liked to break them with you.

So you just walked straight from the rose gardens to the driveway, down the long, gravelly stretch to the front gates and slipped through the gap in the iron that you’d noticed a while back when you and Undertaker were coming home from the city.

You walked the mile down the private side street to where a quiet “main road” merged around the bend and there he was— your strawberry blonde savior waiting to take you away in the chariot of his silver Corvette.

“C’mon, baby,” Ron said as he pulled up to you once you came into sight. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You slid into the passenger’s seat and didn’t look back.

Good riddance, you thought bitterly. And even as you cried with the conflict and confusion of it all, you didn’t regret walking away without a goodbye.

Because Ron held your hand the entire drive back to his London apartment, his thumb stroking your palm as you occasionally squeezed to let him know that you didn’t want him to let go.

***

By the time dinner rolled around, Undertaker knew you were missing.

Not missing, he had to remind himself painfully. Gone by choice.

Gone because I finally scared her away.

He hadn’t eaten that night. Just paced around the empty mansion, eventually making his way out to the rose gardens— the last place you could’ve been if by some miracle you actually hadn’t run away— and staring down the long, empty stretch of road that winded over the horizon from the driveway.

He’d spent hours— days— trying to figure out why he’d done it, why he’d been so willing to hurt you.

Was it because he had so many unresolved emotions swimming around inside of him and had just lost his temper?

Or was it because, at the end of it all, he was a monster who only knew how to bring pain and sorrow and death along with him wherever he traveled…

“I’m sorry…” he whispered as he wrapped his hands around the icy iron of the gate that surrounded the mansion— that cage that had once kept you in— and pressed his forehead to the curves of the metal bars. “I’m so, so sorry…”

The grey sky that had been looming overhead finally released the mist that had been growing up in the clouds, that mist soon turning into a drizzle which turned into rain and, by the end of the night, was sure to be a raging storm.

And Undertaker stood out in it as he silently wept to himself, stood out in the wet and the cold until he was shivering so violently he could feel it aching in his bones.

But by the time he found it in him to retreat inside, the echoing of his footsteps off the checkered black and white floors sounding even emptier and eerier than usual, he’d at least made up his mind about one thing.

He would get you back.

By any means, he’d make you his again.

He pulled out his phone, which was speckled with droplets of water from being kept inside his soggy pocket, and went right to your name.

He knew you probably wouldn’t pick up. He couldn’t even be mad at you for it.

But even so, he still waited for it to ring and then go to voicemail.

After the sound of the beep, he took in one slow, shuddering breath, exhaled, and then began to speak.

***

The mist had just begun by the time you were settled in at Ron’s apartment, the dark of night nestling overhead early on account of the clouds.

You were wrapped up in a blanket and sipping tea on the couch as Ron finished cleaning up in the tiny kitchen. He’d had some food delivered since he wasn’t much of a cook, but you didn’t mind. If he would’ve tried to cook you something it probably would’ve just reminded you how Undertaker always used to cook for you and then…

“Hey…” Ron said as he came over to join you on the couch, his voice low and calm and so, so gentle. Immediately your eyes began to well with shimmering sadness again.

But you honestly didn’t think that you had any more tears left in you tonight.

You’d cried on the car ride halfway to the apartment, cried in his arms the moment he shut and locked the door, and even cried with your face buried into the blanket on the couch while Ron stepped away to call in the order for the food.

Your eyes were red and puffy from how much you’d wiped at them and you looked exhausted, that adorable smile of yours that you’d once been so good at putting on display nowhere to be seen, not even the tiniest crack of a pitiful grin.

“Can I get you anything else?” Ron was almost whispering now, treading so lightly around you, as if you were made of the most delicate glass and so much as one step applying too much pressure would cause you to shatter under him.

In response, you just shook your head, eyes unable to lift any higher than the floor for a couple of hours now, your tea half drank as it started to run cold in the cup that not too long ago had been warming your hands.

Ron leaned in a little closer, but only a little, the motion as small as a single nod of his head. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, and that time you couldn’t even bring yourself to nod. You just set the tea cup on the side table and hugged your knees into your chest.

Because you didn’t want to talk about it. Not really. Only you also felt like, if you didn’t tell someone about the abuse that had been dealt to you you’d go crazy because the more days that passed since it had happened, the more you were struggling to recognize that it had happened at all.

Everything up to this point had left you second guessing yourself, unsure of what was right or wrong or real anymore.

Did I even know what love was in the first place? You wondered solemnly. Have I ever truly been loved at all?

“Well, if there’s anything I can do…” Ron said after a sigh. “Just tell me and I’ll—”

You flopped over to lay your head across his lap, the sudden movement after you’d been still for so long catching Ron slightly off guard. You didn’t say anything for a while. Just lay there and closed your eyes as you took comfort in his warmth. Tenderly, he ran his fingers through your hair, giving it a few strokes before finally whispering out, “What, baby? What is it?”

You reached up with trembling hands and lightly grabbed at the fabric of Ron’s clothes, squeezing your eyes shut even harder as you felt the unpleasant prickling of tears threaten to reemerge.

Guess you still had some more sadness to let out after all.

“I—” you hiccuped, sobs already constricting your throat and making it hard to speak, hard to breathe. “And he—” No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get the words out. It was still too painful.

“It’s ok, baby girl…” Ron cooed as he continued to stroke your hair. “It’s all gonna be ok…”

Once your crying managed to calm down a little bit, tears still falling from your eyes and meeting under your chin to drop down on Ron’s lap, you looked up at him with that pathetic and innocent gaze that came so naturally to you. As your bottom lip quivered, Ron took your chin between his fingers, his touch so warm, so tender.

He tilted your face up slightly so he could see you better, and his expression was nothing short of worry, of consequential concern. As he lightly ran his thumb along your jaw he asked in a quiet murmur, “He really hurt you this time, didn’t he?”

You choked on another sob to answer his question before going to bury your face in his blazer, his hand now finding purchase on your back and rubbing up and down over the exposed skin that peeked out through the opening of your dress. You inched closer and soon you were cuddled up to his side, tucked under his arm and letting him continue to comfort you with his considerate touch, his hand now on your thigh.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do…” you finally admitted, wiping at your eyes again with weak little fists until Ron offered you the handkerchief that was always tucked into his suit’s pocket. “I-I don’t have anywhere to go and I— I can’t keep on…”

“I know, baby, I know…” Ron murmured, his lips pressed gently to the crown of your hair as you rested your head on his shoulder. “But the thing is you do have somewhere to go.” His hold on you tightened a little. “Because as long as I’m around, I won’t let anything else bad happen to you, ok?”

You looked up at him again, eyes sparkling with innocent relief as your tears began to lessen, lashes pulled together in damp spikes before you inevitably dried them.

“You can stay here for as long as you like. As long as you need,” Ron continued, offering a consoling smile now. “I can take care of you. And if you’re willing to try, I think that you and I could…” He hesitated then, trying to read your expression which appeared mostly blank, perhaps in shock or exhaustion. “I think that we could be happy.”

“Ron…” you said through a nasally voice, sniffling into the handkerchief and attempting to clear your throat next.

But you didn’t know what else to say.

He’d offered you everything he had time and time again and— what?— just because it hadn’t been as much as Undertaker could give you at the time you’d turned him down.

But Undertaker had never offered you everything he had. Not really.

Because for as many dresses and dinners and extravagant vacations as he’d presented to you, there was always something missing, you now realized.

Because Ron was earnest. He wasn’t trying to hide his loneliness or make you believe that he held more money or power than he really had.

So, sure. Maybe Ron couldn’t afford to live in a huge mansion or order rare, vintage wines at a Michelin star restaurant or even buy you a single piece of fashion from a luxury brand designer. But he could always— would always— be able to give you his true self.

And that was more than Undertaker ever tried to do.

So, as the two of you continued to draw closer together, the inevitable pull of each other’s attraction radiating off of you both in that tiny London flat, you said two of the most deadly words that you knew.

“Kiss me…”

The desperate, aching poison dripping from the both of you turned into a blissful antidote the moment your lips touched, the taste of his tongue against yours sweeter than any candy or creme brulee.

And he was so relieved. Because Ron had been afraid on so many occasions now that maybe he really had messed everything up. That he’d been the cause of all your heartache and conflict.

But now he knew that your hesitations had never been about him, not really. Because he wasn’t the man who headed an organization as prestigious and nefarious as the Aurora Society. He wasn’t the one who’d been given the name the Black Reaper. He’d hurt people. Killed them. Done terrible things without hesitation because that was the price he’d had to pay.

But at the end of it all, Ron really was just that. Ron.

He was just a guy who was in love with a girl who he hoped would see that as enough cause to stay.

So when he leaned over you on the couch and asked if you were ok, if you wanted this, and you’d nodded your cute little head and said yes…

He moved about you cautiously, considerately, not wanting to do anything to trigger bad memories or press too hard into wounds that were still healing. And you shivered under his ghosting fingertips, his short nails just barely grazing your soft skin and raising goosebumps over your entire body.

You arched your back and tilted your head, exposing your neck to him, and he took your cue, bringing his lips down to your throat and sucking a constellation of love bites into your flesh, no longer restricted by the fear that his boss would find out, would see the discoloration and recognize that it hadn’t been caused by him.

And you felt safe. Safer than you ever had with Undertaker, even in his sweetest, most gentle of moods.

Because this wasn’t driven by a need to repay, a need to convince or impress or any of the other fucked up reasons you’d had to let Undertaker have his way with you.

This was just love.

This was what it probably should’ve felt like all along.

Your pretty little moans and mewling began with its constant melody by the time Ron’s hands had worked their way up under your dress, getting familiar with your body by touch before allowing sight to uncover the rest.

And you felt so good— too good— that for a moment he almost lost sight of the necessary hesitation he had to show in fear of hurting you. But, god…

He could only imagine what you were going to feel once he was inside you.

His hands traveled up your torso towards your chest, anticipating the supple feel of your breasts cupped under his palms and fingers, your nipples perking from under the silky fabric of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra under this one, were used to the design hugging you tight enough to keep the desired shape alone.

Your breath shuddered as Ron pinched and rolled the sensitive buds— not too hard, but with enough pressure to make you whine— and you glanced at him then, telling him in between increased panting, as if it were an order, “Take it off.”

Three syllables had never tasted so good.

Because, for once in your life, you actually felt in control.

And it was an intoxicating thing, to watch as others did what you told them to without hesitation.

You understood a little better why Undertaker had kept you around for so long, chasing the high of power as you’d bent to his will further and further each time, until he’d finally caused you to break.

But Ron wasn’t going to break you, and you had no intention of bending him. Not really. You just wanted to know what it felt like to have someone want you even when you told them what to do. You wanted to know what a normal relationship felt like, one where the power held between both parties was equal. Or at least, as equal as they could be given that you were a good girl and Ron belonged to an underworld crime syndicate.

Ron helped you pull your dress over your head and you threw it to the floor as soon as the majority of the fabric was bunched in your hands, only one fragment of lace left between you and total ecstasy.

Ron was about to slip them from your person and go down on you again until…

“W-wait! Wait…” you breathed. Ron did as you said and ceased. “The bed…” you then elaborated, quickly flicking your angel-eyed gaze to meet his emerald view before looking away again and noticing the growing bulge under Ron’s trousers. “I need… Take me to your room.”

“Of course…” Ron smirked then, that playfully devious nature he tried to hide slipping out for a moment. “How rude of me.” He then hoisted you up and carried you the short distance into his bedroom, which like the rest of the flat was small, but cozy nonetheless. 

Carefully he lay you back on the bed and let you catch your bearings as he shrugged off the layers of his three piece suit and undid his belt, kicking his trousers off as he undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, soon just as vulnerable and exposed as you were.

And seeing him like that, in a way you never imagined you would, brought with it a new wave of relief. Because, yes. This was actually happening. And you welcomed it, reaching towards him as he repositioned himself over you once again, his weight on top of you causing you to sink a little further into the mattress.

“Are you alright, princess?” he asked before continuing, quickly adjusting his glasses as you nodded and hummed out an adorably shy little mm-hm. And with that, he continued, mumbling something against your ear in between nipping at the lobe that at any time you could tell him to stop. That he wouldn’t be mad. That he didn’t want to hurt you.

You almost laughed. A short, curt puff of a chuckle as if to say, it wouldn’t even matter. Because that night when Undertaker had relentlessly railed you despite all your pleas and protests flashed through your mind, a twinge of the lingering pain sparking at your core before its embers faded into the sultry flames of the warm hearth Ron offered.

He kissed you deeply as his fingers pressed into the soaked fabric of your panties, a low moan escaping his throat as he felt how wet you were. He exhaled a swear of satisfaction as his gaze moved down to see it for himself, you positioning your arms above your head like you were used to, expecting the grip of hands tightening around your wrists, though the sensation never came.

Instead, Ron’s hands had their thumbs hooked into the waistband of the delicate lace, slowly pulling them down to expose your pulsing pussy to the cool air of the room, another shiver quivering through you.

You were so wet— drenched by just some kissing and touching— though you didn’t realize just how badly until Ron’s long fingers began rubbing effortlessly up and down your slit, massaging skillful circles on your clit and making your tight hole flutter around nothing, stomach turning with an almost painful need.

As you let out another moan, Ron’s hard cock slicking itself between your folds, he told you how good you were, calling you his sweetheart, his princess.

“Don’t…” you panted. “Don’t call me those names…” The names that you’d once craved on the daily now brought back bitter memories, the phantom touches of cold hands and the shining silver of long hair in the moonlight. “Call me… Call me by my real name…”

Again, Ron honored your request, your name being muttered to you through low, yearning growls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, scissoring them to stretch you in preparation for what was about to come.

And, surprisingly, the sound of your own name over the pathetic little pet names that had once been your identity were only turning you on more.

Again, maybe it was because Undertaker would never. But you were trying not to think about him. Trying not to compare.

Because by the time the head of Ron’s cock began nudging into you, making you squirm a bit at the start before letting yourself relax, letting him take you, you’d forgotten all about the man who you used to belong to. Your monochrome world was being splashed with vibrant color the further Ron sunk into you, shades of pastel orange and brilliant emerald washing over your once dreary landscape and bringing it back to life one thrust at a time.

He was going slow at first, so slow that you’d actually told him to go faster, harder, and as he seemed to be so good at indulging you he obliged.

You both became a chorus of whining moans and guttural groans, the sounds of your pleasure so overwhelming that you didn’t even hear it when your phone rang from a few yards away on the coffee table by the couch, Ron’s bedroom door having been left open as neither of you had expected any interruptions here.

It rang until the device forced it to voicemail, a new notification popping up on the screen that you wouldn’t see until morning.

But even if you had been aware that Undertaker had tried to call you, had left a message, you still wouldn’t have listened to it that night.

Because Ron was pulling reactions from you that you hadn’t even thought possible. Not just by body, but by mind as well. And by the time you both were reduced to a shivering tangle of limbs and body fluids on top of the bedsheets, you felt a weight you hadn’t even realized you’d been carrying lift.

I’m not going back… You thought to yourself with such conviction, such certainty as Ron held you close to him that night that you almost didn’t recognize it as sureness since you’d felt for so long in your life that you’d had to second guess things, that you couldn’t trust yourself to know what was best for you.

I’m not going back.

But wasn’t that the most twisted, fucked up part of anytime you thought you were certain about something?

Because, the moment you thought you knew what was right, the world always had a way of turning you on yourself and showing you how wrong you really were.

***

The morning after, as you and Ron had lazed about the flat sipping tea and enjoying breakfast— which he had actually made this time, even if it was just a simple eggs on toast— you’d eventually gotten to checking your phone, the very first thing popping up being a notification for a new voicemail.

You knew instantly who it was from, though had simply told Ron you were going to use the bathroom before pressing play and listening to the pathetic pleading in Undertaker’s tone as he asked— begged— for you to come home.

“I know I’ve given you more than enough reasons to be angry with me,” he’d began after a shuddering breath. “And I won’t blame you if you never want to see or speak with me again… But please, sweetheart…” He was almost whining, if a man like him were capable of such a submissive sound. “Please give me another chance. I promise— no— I swear to make it up to you. I swear that I’ll never, ever hurt you again…”

Your eyes were tearing up as you sat on the edge of the tub, though you couldn’t tell if it was against your own will or if you actually felt sorry for him.

“I-I’ll get rid of those handcuffs and that crop. I’ll burn them to ash right in front of you so that you know they’re gone. I’m just— I’m so sorry that I lost my temper. It wasn’t even because of you. Really, it wasn’t,” Undertaker skillfully lied with a crack in his voice. Well, half-lied. “And I’m going to get better about learning not to take things out on you. I swear I will. I’ll do anything, so please…”

It actually sounded like he was crying, breaking your fragile little heart even more.

“Please just come home. We can talk this out. I know we can. Anything you want— even if it’s to have some space for a while— I’ll understand…”

When you heard what he had to say next, you covered your mouth to try and silence the sob that leapt from your throat, your shoulders shaking as you wept, curling into yourself with the phone pressed against your ear.

“The thing is, I can’t live without you, sweetheart. I— I’d rather die than live without you, so please. Please come home and give me one more chance to prove that I really do love you. Because, despite my faults, I know that you make me a better man. You make me better than I ever was or ever could be without you so please…” He paused before hammering the final nail into the coffin with a hopeless, pathetic, “I’m begging you.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the bathroom crying after the voicemail had ended, body shaking as you slumped to the floor and tried your damnedest to stay quiet lest Ron hear you and come in to find you in such a state.

Because what were you going to do now?

Now that you were being pulled back to the side that you’d proclaimed as the enemy just as early as the previous night, what could you possibly say or do to convince Ron that you wanted— needed— to go back without him tossing you to the side for good?

Were you just going to keep using them— both of them— until you bled them dry and took all they had to give and then a little more?

Not if you could make up your mind.

But still, even now, as much as your first instinct was to go running back, to demand that Ron drive you back right this instant because you couldn’t bear how broken Undertaker had sounded, how desperate… You didn’t.

You would leave Undertaker wondering for just a little while longer if he’d lost you for good or not. You’d pull the knife out and watch the blood well before you offered to apply pressure to the wound.

Because yes, part of you had already forgiven Undertaker after that apology despite the horrors he’d put you through. But it was because you’d been able to forgive him that made the decision to stay away a little easier.

Because you were in control now.

You had him on the end of the leash and he wasn’t going to dare to tug even a fraction of an inch. At least, not until he’d somehow tricked you into securing the collar back around your pretty little neck and handing him the owner’s end of the chain.

Only then would Undertaker’s overindulgence with you fade back into the smokey haze of risk and reward, control and conditions while you continued to sit pretty on his lap like a good dog and tell everyone you knew, even if you didn’t always mean it, how amazing things were, how much you loved him, how good he was to you.

So a few days later, once the hickies that Ron had given you had disappeared to nearly undetectable shadows of an affair that once was, you finally broke it to him.

“I think I need to go back,” you’d said. It was hard not to wince at the pained look Ron gave you then, a certain shock, as if you’d just struck him across the face. He’d been silent for a long time, just staring at you in a speechless stupor until he’d finally asked you why. “Because I don’t want to run away.” Again, it was only half-true. But you were choosing to believe the better half of that lie which was that you wanted to see Undertaker own up for his mistakes. “I don’t like that I left without saying anything and I think maybe things have cooled down enough for…”

Ron was angry. He was furious. He was seething.

But not at you.

No, not at you.

The harsh emotion was directed at himself, because he’d been stupid enough, been so naive to think that this time you really would choose him over his boss.

His scowl softened and his jaw unclenched as he let out a sigh, one that you read clearly as disappointment.

And what made this even harder, just like always, was that Ron wouldn’t let himself take his anger out on you. He simply offered to drive you back, offered to wrap you up in your silky dress and deliver the pretty little package of the girl he loved right to his boss’s— his competition’s— doorstep. And you, such a generous gift to the man who’d hurt you, who you now wanted to witness hurting in return, were eager to adjust the ribbon around your neck and flaunt the sparkling parcel of your person to him after so long.

Barely a sentence was shared between the two of you as Ron drove you back, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel with enough force to snap it, had it been a particular silver-haired man’s neck.

And when the Corvette pulled up to the front steps, gravel shifting and popping under the tires, Undertaker was already coming out to claim you, his eyes looking even more tired than usual.

“For what it’s worth…” you’d begun as the monochrome man approached the vehicle, only minorly confused as to why one of his men was delivering you and— if Ron had known where you’d been this whole time— hadn’t called him beforehand. “What happened between us. I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron cut in abruptly, his entire body tense and rigid. “We can just pretend it never happened. We can just—”

“I do love you, you know.”

Ron’s head snapped over to look at you so fast he could’ve given himself whiplash.

“You—” he stammered through a puff of disbelief. “W-what?”

“I love you, Ron,” you forced yourself to meet his gaze, Undertaker’s slow stride buying you just enough time to say what you needed to next. “But the problem is, I still love him too. And…” Ron was holding his breath, heart hammering in his chest as his grip on the steering wheel only tightened, as if bracing himself for an excruciating pain. “Well, I don’t think I’m ready to choose between you two. Please don’t hate me…”

Hate you? Ron wanted to remind you, I could never hate you.

But his boss was opening the passenger door now, halting any more words of affection or affirmation that the two of you had on the tip of your tongues. 

“Welcome home, princess,” Undertaker greeted you with a smile, offering you a hand, which you took, and helping you step out of the car. “Why don’t you go wait inside. I have to have a word with—”

“Ok,” you interrupted, your pulse fluttering anxiously for a moment as you knew Undertaker didn’t usually like being interrupted. Before continuing on you glanced back at Ron and said, “Thanks for the ride,” before starting up the front steps and back into the mansion that you still weren’t sure was your prison cell or your paradise.

Once the front doors were closed behind you and Undertaker knew you were out of earshot, he leaned into the car through the rolled down passenger’s side window and glared at Ron.

“How long have you known where she was?” he asked with dark suspicion.

“What?” Ron played dumb, though still remained stiff as his boss bore daggers into him with a stare alone. Undertaker knew that his subordinate had heard him just fine, so he waited for an answer, tilting his head to one side a bit in irritation when he was kept waiting. “Wha— Oh. Well apparently she was staying at a friend’s place and then needed a ride back. The bus doesn’t come this way and she didn’t feel comfortable taking an Uber so…”

Undertaker considered Ron for a few more painfully uncomfortable, suspenseful beats until he went on to inquire, “And why didn’t you call as soon as she contacted you?”

Ron gulped, praying he could keep his voice steady as he lied his way out of an early grave. “I didn’t know she was missing,” he emphasized with a twinge of attitude. “I didn’t know anything. I haven’t seen or talked to her in weeks now. I was just—”

“That will be all, Ronald,” Undertaker cut him off, stepping back from the car. “You can go now.”

Ron hesitated, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he feared leaving you here with this man— the man who’d hurt you so badly— while he was in such a wound up state. But if it was the last fragments of anger that Undertaker needed to unleash, Ron would rather it be towards him than towards you.

“I’ll see you at the office then,” Ron replied with a sullen nod, putting the car back into drive. 

Undertaker watched until the silver Corvette disappeared over the horizon before turning to walk up those front steps and join you in the house— your home, where you belonged— and finding you sitting on the plush chaise in the main entrance.

He stopped a few paces away from you, far enough that he wasn’t necessarily standing over you but close enough so he could take in the way the whites showed under your eyes when you looked at him with that submissive innocence.

“Thank you…” he began, placing his hands behind his back as he paused to exhale a breath he’d been holding in all week, “for coming back, sweetheart, I—”

“Where is it?” you interrupted again, blood humming with the sensation of this open defiance, this newfound power. The tall, pale man gave you a look of puzzled concern. “The cuffs and the crop,” you specified as you stood from the sofa, taking a step towards him. “You said you’d burn them.”

Undertaker eventually found his words, trying to keep it together as your change in behavior was clearly irking him with the way his jaw clenched and his chin turned up a little bit. “They’re in the living room,” he replied evenly. “By the fireplace.”

Your big, doe-eyed gaze narrowed with hostility. Undertaker wanted to slap you across the face for such a dirty look, especially one directed at him, but he had to constantly remind himself that he was trying to win you back. Old habits were going to have to be forgotten if things were to be repaired. For now, at least.

“Then burn them.” It was an order, the way the stern tone tasted in your mouth coming off sweet on your tongue but burning bitterly to Undertaker’s ears.

Control yourself, he kept repeating in his head.

Then he started towards the living room, you following after him.

Sure enough, the cuffs and the crop were exactly where he’d said they’d be, and you sat with one leg crossed over the other in the center of the couch as you watched him toss them both into the fire, flames catching the leather on the end of the whip and eating away at it while the metal of the cuffs blackened in the hearth.

“If you ever do something like that to me again…” you dared to threaten, Undertaker unable to face you as he couldn’t help but contort his expression in fury towards the fire, “You will never, ever see me again. Do you understand?”

The audacity that you’d gained in such a short time away, the sheer nerve.

Undertaker didn’t know which was more terrifying— losing you again or having to adjust to this new disposition of self-righteousness you’d adopted.

It’ll fade, he told himself. She won’t be able to keep this up. Not forever. Not for long.

When he’d contained his simmering rage enough to face you, he turned and cast a calm, half-lidded chartreuse gaze befitting of falling upon his formerly obedient baby girl and said, “Of course, my love. It will never happen again. Now please…” He extended his arms, beckoning you into a hug. “Give me a chance to hold my princess again.”

You stood from the couch and approached him, bare feet pitter-pattering on the black and white checkered floor, allowing Undertaker to take you in his arms again, to wrap himself around you and hold you close. 

While he embraced you, your head turned to the side as you rested against his chest, you noticed yet another disturbing detail of the manor that you had never considered before. Because if the iron wrought gates were the prison bars keeping you in, then the checkered floors were the life-sized chessboard that further emphasized that this was all a game— a very dangerous game that was being played by all the gangs of London, the enterprises from overseas joining now as well.

And maybe you were just a perfect, pretty little pawn who was pirouetting across the spaces, twirling in your black babydoll dresses in hopes of being one of the final pieces left once all was said and done.

It takes two to play a game, you thought darkly, Undertaker’s grip around you tightening a bit before letting go. But only one can come out victorious.

“Now then, my love,” Undertaker said in that smooth, seductive tone of his, an arm around you as he guided you back towards the kitchen. “Shall I make you something to eat? When’s the last time you had a good meal?”

“I could go for some creme brulee, actually,” you informed him, a little bit of that cutesy lilt returning to your voice.

“Well then,” Undertaker chuckled, so talented at faking emotion. “If it’s creme brulee that you want, then it’s creme brulee you shall have.”

And just like that, the two of you began operating as if things were normal again, as if things were good. The only thing that neither of you could figure out just yet was who was wearing the collar and who was holding the leash. Though, to your own detriment, you were already accepting treats from the palm of Undertaker’s cold, pale hands, letting him feed you your dessert on your favorite silver spoon while you sat on the countertop and he stood between your legs.

That’s right, he relished at the sight of you morphing back to your old self so quickly with just a little persuasion. Good girls know how to sit and stay. And hungry dogs always end up returning home, in the end.

***

(So, not gonna lie, i don’t think even I fully foresaw the direction that this one was going in, so apologies if it seems… sort of out of left field heh heh…

Anyway, I have figured out for the most part some of the major plot points i want to hit in the new few chapters/leading up to the end.

But if you’ve been reading, please do let me know who you think the reader should end up with in the end. I’ve been going back and forth with the idea that perhaps i should write two different endings— one where you end up with Undertaker and another where you end up with Ron— but i’m honestly just not sure…

I’m really gonna have to think about that going into these next few chapters and hopefully whatever i decide to do doesn’t disappoint too many people lol. But I wouldn’t exactly say that this is going to be a “happy ending” type of fic.

Anyway, thanks again for reading and a reminder that your guys’ opinions would be greatly appreciated. Bye for now!)

[k-s-morgan]

Those Gentle Slopes: Snippet 1

A part of interrogation scene from Sebastian’s POV! Warning for graphic violence because possessive Sebastian is one angry demon))

As soon as he stepped inside, the entertainment ceased. Screeches, shrieks, and laughter died down in a split second, with dozens of eyes of different hellish colours fixating on him. There was a stirring of unease and curiosity before most demons with lower ranks bowed hastily and took on their human appearance — a sign of respect to the shape he was currently wearing.  

“Sebastian,” Gaap greeted him, grimacing at the human name that instinctively fell off his tongue. He didn’t bother to change how he looked like. “This is a surprise. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

A slow dark smile twisted his lips, baring his sharp teeth. It widened when half of the demons stiffened. Several took a wary step back.

“I’m looking for someone,” he said. Despite the fact that his vocal chords belonged to a human, his voice was a low, demonic hiss. “Perhaps for one amongst you.”

More unease. The stink of fear filled the air, tickling his nostrils and making his lips twitch hungrily.

“I see,” even Gaap appeared wary now, although unlike others, he was more puzzled than scared. “And what criteria will help us to narrow this search down?”

“Having a death wish would be the first clue,” Sebastian took several steps towards the gathering, absorbing the varying expressions of worry and terror. He hadn’t involved himself in such meetings for several decades, so it was no wonder his appearance was causing such a turmoil. It was hard to get on his bad side — for the most part, he simply didn’t care enough. But this? This insult couldn’t stand. The boy was his, and if he had to tear several throats out to make the point stick, he would be pleased to comply.    

“What happened, Sebastian?” Gremory asked. She remained in her demon form like Gaap, and like him, she smelled disturbed.

“I’m aware that one of the demons tried to disrupt my contract,” Sebastian said. As soon as the words were out, the rage returned with a doubled force, tearing through his body and stripping it of its human contours. Raw power seeped through his skin, heavy and oppressive, making the majority recoil from him. “I want the name.”

There was silence. And more silence. And then Raum laughed hesitantly.

“Are you serious?” he asked. “You deigned to come down to hell itself over your contract? You hate this place. What’s so important that—”

Sebastian was by his side before he finished speaking. His hand plunged into the soft chest, clenching around the shadowy iciness there and jerking it outside.

Raum screamed. His shape thrashed in Sebastian’s grip, and as soon as he collapsed onto the floor, Sebastian stepped on his throat, digging a hole in it with his heel to make sure it would be unable to produce any sounds.

“Remember your place,” he said mildly. Raum convulsed, trying to drag his half-broken shape away from him, but Sebastian was already losing interest. Someone this pitiful and weak would not risk his ire willingly. He had to look for someone with a higher rank.

As if sensing his thoughts, Gremory shook her head.

“Kings, dukes, and other princes would not do it,” she said. “Marquises are more likely. How about Claude? You know he— oh,” Gremory frowned. “So he’s taken a contract already.”

“He was the first I looked into,” Sebastian agreed. After his threats, Claude had been his first guess, but the moment he tried to speak his true name, he sensed the change to a human one. Claude had his own master to work on, he wouldn’t have time for anyone else.

Silence dwelled once again. The more it went on, the brighter his anger burned. It was a separate being now, a clawed and vicious monster that begged to be released. The mere idea of the boy summoning someone of Sebastian’s nature, speaking with them, making deals with them breathed fire into his very core, and if he didn’t find his answer, he would incinerate this whole place, the consequences be damned.

“One of you talked to my Master,” Sebastian said. Now his words were rougher, wrapped in the promise of destruction. “I want to know who it was. I won’t ask again.”    

No one replied. No one stepped forwards.

Predictable. Yet foolish.

With a small effort, Sebastian turned off most of his human sides, concentrating on his demonic senses.

All demons smelled disturbed. The majority smelled scared. His fellow princes smelled concerned.

One demon smelled guilty.

Every part of Sebastian zeroed in on this specific mass of darkness. It was Phenex — boring, obedient Phenex with his ridiculous dreams of heaven.  

He wouldn’t have been among Sebastian’s first choices, but his senses didn’t lie. This creature smelled rotten from guilt.

 Phenex must have understood what his stare meant because his eyes widened in panic.

“It’s not me!” he cried out. “I wouldn’t do that, it’s against our law! I have—”

Sebastian didn’t let him finish. Whatever disease the boy had infected him with was progressing swiftly, sending a roar of mine, mine, mine through his blood, so he bared his teeth and lunged at Phenex, tearing into him with his claws.

For a while, it was a blur. As a marquise, Phenex was strong, but he was nowhere near Sebastian’s capabilities, especially not when he was in such a state. The need to kill, to disembowel, to carve into every part of this unworthy competitor’s body and stuff it with liquid silver was pushing him forwards, making him feed on the powers he usually kept dormant.

“It’s not me!” Phenex screamed again. He was bleeding shadows from everywhere, his body shaking from shock and pain. “Everyone knows that you aren’t right in the head about— that you deem this contract important! No one would risk it! I’d never risk it!”

Sebastian growled. Now that he could imagine this specific face speaking to the boy, luring him in, urging him to form a new contract…

A new haze of fire and rage engulfed him. Sebastian grabbed Phenex by his shuddering throat with one hand and thrust his claws into his right eye socket, breathing in the howl of agony that followed.    

“Ciel Phantomhive is mine,” he whispered. “If you think I’m done with you after you tried to take him from me… I’m just getting started.”

“I didn’t do it!” Phenex shrieked. He tried to push at him with his hand, but Sebastian took this chance to snap it in half. “Stop it! Stop, I didn’t do it! I’m not interested in your contract!”

Sebastian smiled, and Phenex went grey, just like the smoke he was leaking.

“Who in their right mind would even want your contract?!” he screamed desperately. “That boy is an abomination! There is nothing alluring about his soul at all! Only you would— no! Stop it!”          

With a snarl, Sebastian dug his claws into the left eye socket, twisting it and grinding it into nothing. Whether Phenex was being truthful about his ignorant assessment of the boy’s soul or not, this was the confession. He’d seen him. He’d looked at him.  

Sebastian didn’t need to know more.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

*Who did this to you ? *from the sentence starter pack for agni :3

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭  \  sentence starter pack,  i.

who did this to you?

THE A N G S T!!

(we love it here)

It’s the same question you’ve been asking AGNI, but he seems not to want to answer it.

It doesn’t appear to you that he doesn’t want to cooperate with the police who are asking him no different than you have; it’s just that he’s hesitant. Whatever happened that led to this, there’s no question it left him with emotional scars in addition to the ones on his skin which are violently trying to heal.

All you can do is stay here with him, even as the dark night bleeds back into the oranges and pinks of early morning, trying to get him to speak to you. Moving is difficult for him right now, after having barely survived, so you don’t prompt him to do that.

You just give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and ask him again:

“Who did this to you?”

His eyes are tired, their usual grey rimmed with red and the whites shot with the same, lids heavy as if he could pass out at any moment. He’s barely gotten any sleep, resting for at most thirty minutes at a time. Not only in too much pain to find a comfortable position, too traumatized to relax. God bless him, though, he’s trying so hard to just be okay.

He shakes his head. “It… it couldn’t have been,” he says quietly. “It looked like… but… but it couldn’t have been.”

This is the only progress you’ve had in the past several hours. So you press on, not content to leave that be, as you bring his hand up to kiss the back of it. “Looked like who, darling? Who could it not have been?”

“I…” Your free hand shifts through his hair, earning a shaky breath. In a rare moment he’s devoid of his turban, thanks to the doctors removing it to check for head wounds, and you think he’s too tired to care much about putting it back on. It does, however, mean that currently you have unrestricted access to his hair. That you run your fingers through the silvery strands seems to calm him even if only marginally.

He still shuts his eyes, shaking his head. Not because of you; in response to the memory and the questions. Like he’s afraid to answer. Like he isn’t even sure who he thought he saw. A mirthless ghost of a laugh escapes him. “No, I can’t trust my mind right now. My memory is… it’s not right. I know it isn’t. It can’t be.”

“Why not? Who did it look like?”

Your heart aches for him. Even though he’s been through a lot today, surely he knows what he saw. How hurt must he be to feel like he needs to second-guess his own mind?

His lips purse together in a straight, thin line. Pointedly, he doesn’t let his eyes meet yours, as if he thinks you’ll go to pieces at his answer. “It… it looked like… Ciel.” He laughs again, and this time it’s a noise which sounds tight and anxious. “I… I told you. That can’t ― can’t be correct… right?”

Well, you have confirmation at least. The police told you Ciel Phantomhive was the same name that Soma gave when questioned about whether or not he knew who did this.

The idea shocks you. Agni and Soma were being allowed to stay in Ciel’s townhouse. They were at the manor frequently. Agni even considered Sebastian a friend and Soma thought of Ciel as a younger brother. Why would he attack them like this?

And all the wounds Agni has… dozens of literal knives in his back. The stab wound through Soma’s hand. As far as you know, that’s too brutal for Ciel.

You’re soft when you reply. “That’s what Soma said, too. You can trust yourself, Agni.”

“… No…” He opens his eyes to look at you briefly, only to shut them again so tears can well up at the edges. Exhaustion is overridden by a torrent of emotions. You can guess at some of them; anger, pain, sorrow, confusion. By all the evidence you have now, he and his prince have been betrayed by one of their closest friends.

Even when you come closer and wrap your arms around him, all he can do is lean into your touch. It takes every bit of his strength to simply lay his head on your shoulder and cry.

“It can’t be,” he sobs. “It just… can’t… why…? Why would he do this? I don’t understand…” You can feel the twitch of his muscles as his movements agitate every future scar. He’s in so much pain, but there’s nothing you can do except hold him as he hurts.

You brush a kiss over the top of his head, and your gaze lifts up to the police officer who’s standing at the door.

“I don’t understand either, love. But I promise you, we’re going to figure this out.”

And if Ciel somehow is behind this, you’ll make him pay personally.

[chibimyumi]

Hey there! hope you're doing well! So I've seen a few takes from people saying that Seb lacks character developement and I wanted to ask your opinion on this? I feel like some people just want him to have some kind of "redemption arc" which sounds weird to me because by now I'd guess people would understand his character and motivations?

Dear Anon,

I am doing great, thank you very much. I hope you too ^^

Sorry for the late reply! It was not for lack of interest because yours is a very interesting question to ask. Indeed, for any other character I would say that for a main character he lacks character development. However, with Sebastian Michaelis specifically I would disagree, because there are multiple factors that dramatically change matters for him. The most important one being Sebas’ age.

Four Years vs Centuries?

Sebas is a supernatural entity that has been around and for centuries if not millennia. We know next to nothing about this demon’s past, but one of the few things we do know is that he has been around and seen quite a lot of the world thanks to his old age.

The older one is, the more fixed their personality is, meaning the less malleable it becomes. Of course nobody is too old to grow or change, but it will ultimately require more time or effort to change such a person.

In our current story Sebas has been around for barely 4 years, which to him must be an equivalent of a few hours in human life. Let’s say you are 20 years old with a certain set of beliefs, principles, personality traits, etc. Now imagine going somewhere you probably have been to before for one hour, and that in that one hour you suddenly change entirely. Not impossible, but quite unlikely.

What must happen before a person would change in such a relative short time must be the occurrence of something either exceptionally shocking, or exceptionally inspiring. In Sebas’ case, at least one did happen, namely the former.

Exceptionally Shocking

As discussed in some detail in this post, the exceptionally shocking did in fact happen to Sebas in his current contract. Canonically Sebas said that he never fought reapers before he fought Grell, and therefore we also know that Undertaker is the second reaper he ever fought seriously. Judging from Sebas’ casual and confident reaction when Grell first invited him for a fight, we know Sebas never had any reason before that time to fear for his life. I mean, look at this confident bitch (Ô_ó)p.

Even after Sebas got really hurt by Grell, he still managed to say something as cocky as: “I have never fought [a reaper] before, so I cannot tell [whether I can beat one]. But if my master tells me to win, I shall.” That is certainly NOT the same Sebas as the one we know now.

After the Campania brawl, we see very clearly how Sebas’ attitude and confidence changed entirely, exactly because for the first time ever he experienced something exceptionally shocking; his life and death was outside his own control. The English translations I have seen are not bad, but they miss a bit of the nuance in the Japanese version. In the Japanese version when Sebas says that even a demon like him cannot withstand a blow from the death scythe, there was some eye-opening realisation in his tone. He learned something new there.

And indeed, most tellingly even at the mere mention of the Undertaker or the prospect of having to run into him again, even Sebas swallows his pride in front of his master, and admits he’d really rather not.

Much later in chapter 85 when they were investigating the mourning lockets, master and servant have a moment of silence thinking about the Undertaker. While to O!Ciel the important memory is Undertaker’s “it is my treasure,” Sebas thinks about the very first thing Undertaker said to him upon deciding to let him live: “I knew you would succeed at protecting the Earl.”

As explained in this post, Sebas has come to project condescension onto Undertaker. Sebas suspects Undertaker is looking down on him, and understandably so because he has no reason to believe otherwise. “I knew you would [...]” is a phrase that reflects control in Undertaker’s hands, and Sebas really hates that. For once Sebas is the prey, and somebody else the predator.

Now here is the character development; Sebas went from over confident and cocky to a demon with PTSD.

(Exceptionally) Inspiring

Though less explicit and game-changing, I would argue that something inspiring also occurred in Sebas’ short time on Earth this time: his master. In this post I compared O!Ciel to a piece of unprocessed raw meat to Sebas, as opposed to other past masters probably being a microwave-meal equivalent. O!Ciel is young and started without power, so to Sebas one he started to see the potential of a fully self-customisable meal, he really started to feel the excitement.

Though, however excited, it would only be a small blip on Sebastian’s radar. In the same post just mentioned, I also discussed how it is very unlikely that eating O!Ciel will change Sebas’ view on humankind because it would need to alter someone’s view shaped through thousands of years.

In this same sense I also argue that though Sebas did change over the course of 4 years in the human world, he wouldn’t change dramatically. His experience in the past four years must be like one grain of sand on a banked scale.

Sebas and Redemption?

My short answer would just be: “Kuroshitsuji ain’t some religiously-laden morale story wherein even a demon must be redeemed,” but that would not be fair (and too short for my M.O.)

It’s an unpopular opinion, but a good character arc or story does not require a redemption arc to work. It just needs to work for any reason. A redemption arc in a character is not like meringue is essential in a macaron. It’s more like chocolate on bread. It can be very nice if it suits well, but please don’t put any chocolate on a salad sandwich please.

For Sebas, I would say that a redemption arc would be the chocolate on a salad sandwich. As discussed above, Sebas is VERY OLD. If he were to be “redeemed” because of 4 years, it’d be like redeeming a lifetime sinner in one hour of repentance. Imagine redeeming Hitler after he saved one puppy or said “I’m really sorry”. Yeah, no.

Besides, this then also begs the question: “does Sebastian need to be redeemed in the first place?” As discussed extensively in this post, most of Sebas’ “evils” are done under someone else’s bidding. And otherwise, because he is not human the way he is “evil” is only because he doesn’t care about human lives; much in the same way most humans don’t care about insects. “AAH a mosquito that might make me itch for a bit! SLAP IT DED!!!” Or if we step on ants while we walk, “oh well, too bad”. That’s Sebas with humans. Do most humans consider humans who eat meat or slap insects “evil that need redemption”? No.

So for Sebas’ or demon standards, he is probably not even that bad. He just wants his food and payment for his hard work.

I hope this had been interesting!

Related posts:

What is Evil in Kuroshitsuji? Philosophy

If humans are insects, then what to Sebas are “humans”?

O!Ciel being a game-changing meal?

PTSD Sebas I

PTSD Sebas II

[the-letter-horror-lover]

A New Start

wicl93

Summary:

Sebastian didn't mark Ciel as his mate, he made Ciel his mate, and that's not the only problem Ciel has...

WARNINGS: SebaCiel, explicit yaoi, underage sex (Ciel is 13)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Normal

Thoughts

Flashback

WARNINGS: SebaCiel, explicit yaoi, underage sex (Ciel is 13).

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, it is the property of Yana Toboso.

"Is he in here?"

Bard turned to look in the direction of the voice.

"Is something wrong, young master?" he asked. It wasn't difficult to tell that Ciel was in a bad mood, from the way he was standing with his arms folded, glaring around the room.

"Is he in here?" Ciel repeated through gritted teeth.

"Er...no...I'm not sure where he is..." Bard trailed off, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Fine", Ciel practically spat, before storming off.

"I wonder what Sebastian did now", Bard mused.

Ciel stormed out of the kitchen, heading upstairs. He practically stomped along the corridor, looking in various bedrooms. As he passed by one, he noticed Mey-rin.

"Do you know where he is?" he snapped at her.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes!"

"No, I'm not sure, maybe in the kitchen?" she asked.

The blue-haired young man left the room, getting increasingly angry as he went down to the servants quarters. He stopped in front of Sebastian's door, banging on it and listening for any sort of response. He wasn't sure why he thought Sebastian would be in there, he nearly never was, but he thought he'd try just in case, as it was obvious that the demon was hiding from him.

Ciel thought back to the cause of his current problem, which had been around two months previously...

"Young master, if you become my mate then I will still ensure that you are safe, and destroy anyone who threatens to harm you. And, when your goal is achieved, rather than take your soul, nothing will happen, in fact, you will be immortal, and you won't age."

"I'm still not sure I want to be 13 forever."

"If I mark you as mine, I don't have to completely take you as my mate for anything up to five years", Sebastian replied. "All of this was in the information I left you at the back of that file on Cole..."

"I know, I just wanted to hear it from you."

"Well then, Ciel," Sebastian said, purring the name in a more seductive manner than anything he'd ever said, "do you consent to be my mate?"

"I've got nothing to lose and plenty to gain..."

"Including me by your side", Sebastian added slyly, looking at Ciel's barely dressed form, holding his gaze on Ciel's crotch for a fraction of a second longer than could be explained by anything other than desire.

"Then I accept", Ciel said, a small amount of uncertainty in his voice, but his posture indicating his resolve. Sebastian smiled and leaned over the bed.

"Well then –"

"Wait –"

"You already accepted", Sebastian purred, running his bare hands up creamy thighs.

"I know, but when you say mark me...I know from those papers what that means, but where...?"

"How about just here?" Sebastian suggested, pressing the pad of his thumb against an area so high up Ciel's inner thigh it was almost at his perineum.

"Isn't that a little personal?" Ciel asked, blushing bright red.

"That's the point – so no-one will ever see it...except me of course", Sebastian replied.

"Er...okay, I guess", Ciel said, before his uncertainty faded and he moaned loudly, as Sebastian leaned down and sunk his teeth into the pale skin, sucking a mark into it that would never fade.

Sebastian pulled back to admire his handiwork, a bright red mark, that while would fade to purple, would never disappear, as it marked Ciel as his, permanently. He leaned back in to lick off the small traces of blood, as the mating mark required a small amount of blood to be drawn. He heard Ciel hiss slightly above him, and moved half an inch to lick at Ciel's perineum, distracting the young man from the small amount of pain by arousing him instead. He pushed the nightgown further up, kissing upwards as the pale skin was revealed, until he had pushed the nightgown off over Ciel's head and was kissing him on the lips. Ciel leaned upwards eagerly, his cock hardening rapidly. Sebastian pulled backwards and quickly stripped himself, allowing Ciel to push him over onto his back and take control.

Ciel looked down at the demon spread out on the bed beneath him, ignoring the unusual feeling in his right eye as he leaned down to kiss Sebastian, small hands trailing down toned skin to grip at the large hardness between Sebastian's legs.

"Ciel", Sebastian groaned, as Ciel worked him up even more. "You're more eager than last time", Sebastian pointed out.

"Last time I was engaged...although I suppose this mark effectively makes me engaged to you, doesn't it?"

"If that's how you'd like to see it, I will gladly accept", Sebastian replied, smile turning into an expression of surprise, as the navy blue head moved down and he felt a shy tongue press against his leaking slit. He groaned as Ciel began sucking on the head of his cock, resisting the urge to reach down and encourage Ciel to take more of him in, knowing that taking any control in this position would probably end the pleasurable suction.

"Having fun?" Ciel asked, pulling back to look up at Sebastian.

"Very much so", Sebastian replied, as Ciel turned around so that Sebastian could suck on him as well. Instantly realising what Ciel wanted, Sebastian swallowed Ciel down in one go, groaning around the young man's shaft as the head of his cock was again encased in the pleasurable warmth of Ciel's mouth.

Ciel gasped as Sebastian sucked him roughly, sucking as hard as he could on the head of Sebastian's cock while his own was swallowed down a tight throat. Ciel pulled back again, moaning as he sat up, his knees on either side of Sebastian's head as the demon released his cock, instead trailing his tongue back to lick at Ciel's hole. Ciel groaned, as Sebastian's tongue pressed inside him, a long finger sliding inside as well, wiggling around to stretch open the tight hole.

"More", Ciel gasped, rocking back and forth on Sebastian's face, as the demon licked and fingered him open. Sebastian complied, sliding another finger in alongside the first, scissoring them as he withdrew his tongue. He replaced his tongue with a third, then a fourth finger.

"Like this?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes, please, yes!" Ciel almost screamed, as Sebastian struck his prostate repeatedly. Sebastian grinned as Ciel bucked on top of him, before falling forward, the pleasure becoming too much for him. Sebastian rolled Ciel over onto his back, keeping his fingers inside the young man and continuing to thrust them in and out.

Ciel whined in disappointment as Sebastian withdrew his fingers, before gasping as he felt the head of Sebastian's cock enter him.

"Sebastian, keep going", Ciel moaned.

"I should wait for you to –"

"Your fingers opened me enough, and it's not like we haven't done this before, now get all the way in", Ciel ordered. Sebastian slid halfway in, before stopping again.

"Enough?" he asked.

"I said all the way – I ordered you...", Ciel trailed off, his hand reaching up to his now blue right eye, as he realised that the mark from the pact had faded, as the mark on his thigh now held him under a different form of contract. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw that the black seal which was previously on the back of Sebastian's left hand had also disappeared.

"I no longer have to listen to your orders", Sebastian pointed out, as he slowly slid his way all the way inside.

"You said nothing would change..."

"This is the one area where things will be different, especially if ignoring your orders allows me to prolong the pleasure we both have", Sebastian responded, continuing forwards until he was fully seated inside Ciel.

Ciel groaned as he felt the heavy balls against the globes of his ass, wrapping his legs around Sebastian's waist as the demon leaned forward to look down at the now single-coloured gaze, glassy blue eyes gazing up at him. Sebastian began thrusting in and out shallowly, sitting back up to grip Ciel's legs, lifting them upwards to allow himself to thrust easier.

"Faster", Ciel gasped. Sebastian complied, moving a little faster, and continuing to increase his speed as he thrust roughly in and out of his young lover. Ciel tightened his hole, making the demon-butler moan at the pleasure Ciel was capable of giving him, even when the young man didn't mean to do so. He released Ciel's legs, and the young Lord immediately fastened them back around Sebastian's waist, tugging the demon forwards so that Ciel could kiss him.

"Sebastian, I'm – urgh", Ciel groaned, not managing to finish his warning before the overwhelming pleasure overtook him, and he came across his stomach, some spilling over onto the bedsheets beneath him. Sebastian allowed them both a few more thrusts before he came as well, filling Ciel with his own come. He pulled his cock from Ciel's hole, shooting the last strips of his come against the outside of Ciel's hole, also painting white streaks across the purpling mark he had left on the inside of Ciel's thigh. What he had released inside Ciel started dribbling back out, staining the bedcovers even more, as Sebastian sat back on his knees to observe the spent young man beneath him.

Ciel's eyes started drooping and he drifted off into sleep.

And that was when Ciel's problem had begun. And the first time Sebastian had lied to him, as he had found out the following morning – by marking Ciel as his mate, Ciel had actually become Sebastian's mate. He'd age until he was an adult anyway, that was how it worked, but he was already Sebastian's mate and already immortal...and having a serious problem, which Sebastian was clearly aware of, as he was hiding from Ciel.

Ciel continued stomping around the house, before looking outside. He stormed out there, heading to where Finnian was doing something in the garden – probably something destructive.

"Have you seen him?"

"Sebastian? He's in the greenhouse trimming the roses", Finnian replied.

Ciel slammed the door to the greenhouse so hard that it almost shattered.

"Good morning young master", Sebastian greeted him.

"Not going to call me your 'mate'?" Ciel spat at him.

"Of course not, not when someone may hear us, unless you like that idea."

"Do you want to explain?" Ciel asked, still just as angry.

Sebastian set down the shears he was using to trim the roses and moved over to where Ciel was standing. He pulled the young man over to the table and chairs the young Earl used when having tea in the greenhouse, and pushed him down into the chair. Sebastian ran his fingers through blue hair, as he knelt down on the floor, bringing himself face to face with his young mate.

"I take it you are still annoyed about me not telling you that what we did was mating?"

"You lied to me."

"Technically I said I was marking you –"

"You said we were the equivalent of engaged, not the equivalent of married. And you didn't say this would happen to me!"

"I don't know what you mean, young master", Sebastian purred, leaning in so that his face was really close to Ciel's. The young man turned bright red at this, making the demon's grin widen as he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against Ciel's. The teen groaned into the kiss, his groan deepening as Sebastian slipped his tongue into Ciel's mouth.

After a few moments, Sebastian pulled back, looking briefly at the lust-darkened eyes and flushed face of his young mate before standing up:

"My apologies, young master, but I must excuse myself to make your lunch", Sebastian said with a bow, before leaving the greenhouse. It took a moment for Ciel to realise what had happened, by which time the greenhouse door had already closed and Sebastian had already returned to the house.

"Bastard", Ciel swore under his breath, no less annoyed than he had been before, and now also somewhat aroused, which only served to increase his annoyance at his mate.

Later that day, Sebastian entered Ciel's office.

"Good afternoon, young master. For tea today I have –"

"An explanation?"

"Young master, I'm sure you know how it happened –"

"Hardly", Ciel scoffed. "And I mean that. I'm a guy –"

"It is possible, young master", Sebastian stated, setting down a cup of tea and a piece of cake for Ciel. "Can I get you anything else?"

"How about an explanation?" Ciel demanded.

"Like I said, you know what happened", Sebastian said with a wink, before leaving the room.

"Damn it", Ciel swore, annoyed at how easily Sebastian could slip away from him. He stabbed at the cake angrily. Although it was his favourite chocolate cake, he was still too annoyed, stabbing at it angrily rather than actually eating it. Sebastian was making him more and more angry, and was not giving him a real explanation of how this would work, not to mention actually helping him in any way. He glared at the mashed up chocolate cake, before pushing it aside, feeling nauseous all of a sudden. He continued to do his work, wondering when he'd be able to get Sebastian to talk about the situation.

Ciel spent the rest of the afternoon in his office, even having Sebastian bring dinner there so he didn't have to leave. He didn't leave until it was late evening, and headed upstairs to bed. He called Sebastian to help him get ready for bed, the demon arriving a short while later.

"Bedtime, young master?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes."

It was obvious that Ciel was still annoyed, so as Sebastian removed Ciel's clothes he placed a kiss on Ciel's stomach.

"What are you doing?" Ciel asked in annoyance.

"Kissing my family."

"How about explaining how I'm pregnant at all?!"

"Well, as the mate of a demon –"

"Just...never mind", Ciel interrupted. "Just stop smirking about it all the time and help me."

"Of course, young master. So, how about I explain the mechanics of male pregnancy and what we have to do now..."

Next/Final Chapter - Ciel's pregnancy progresses...

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Normal

Thoughts

Flashback

WARNINGS: SebaCiel, explicit yaoi, underage sex (Ciel is 13).

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, it is the property of Yana Toboso.

"How are you feeling, young master?" Sebastian asked, as he tidied some things on the other side of Ciel's office. The blue-haired young man continued to eat, although he was grimacing slightly as he did so.

"I'm fat, nauseous, and the only food I seem to be able to keep down is chocolate cake and onions. Which wouldn't be so bad, except having both in the same mouthful is not helping the nausea."

"I think we need to talk about what to do now", Sebastian said, moving over to Ciel. He moved the empty plates to one side and pulled Ciel's chair backwards slightly, rubbing Ciel's slightly swollen stomach.

"What do you mean?" Ciel asked.

"Well, you are beginning to show, and we can't have you obviously pregnant at any functions. However, you can't drop out of society for a few months, that wouldn't really work without a proper excuse."

"I take it you have one?"

"I believe so, young master", Sebastian smiled, as he set down an envelope in front of Ciel. The blue-haired young man looked at Sebastian suspiciously as he picked up the envelope and tipped out the contents.

"Tickets?"

"The maiden voyage of the Campania II departs from Portsmouth in three days. It is heading to America, stopping at several points up and down the East coast of the country before returning. It's a four month round trip, which is just about enough time – you're a little over five months pregnant, so that should be enough time for you to have the child and have some time to rest as well, before we return."

"And this is what you call dropping out of society?"

"No, this is only where people will think we are. I have...acquired a property out in the country, far away from any habited areas, which is where we will actually be staying for the duration of our absence."

"I see", Ciel said thoughtfully.

"I believe it is the only way that we can take you out of society", Sebastian stated.

"I suppose it would make sense", Ciel said thoughtfully. He leaned back in his chair heavily.

"How are you feeling?" Sebastian asked, standing up from where he had been crouched in front of Ciel rubbing the young man's belly.

"Fat", Ciel groaned. "It's difficult to move."

"That's why I'm here", Sebastian said, leaning down to pick up Ciel, one arm under Ciel's back and the other under his legs. He carried Ciel with ease, taking the younger man from his office to his bedroom, setting him down gently on the bed.

Ciel leaned heavily into the bed, pressing himself against the mattress.

"I'm so tired", he muttered. "And fat."

"You are pregnant", Sebastian stated, leaning down to kiss Ciel's stomach.

"And it's so much fun", Ciel retorted.

"Perhaps I can make it a little more fun", Sebastian suggested, kissing Ciel's stomach again. This time he continued, kissing down Ciel's stomach. He pushed down the loose pants Ciel was having to wear around the slight bump, which slid down the young man's legs easily, revealing his arousal.

"Sebastian", Ciel groaned.

"Yes, young master?" Sebastian looked up at Ciel slyly, licking his lips. He was so close to Ciel's erection that licking his lips caused his tongue to slide along Ciel's cock slightly.

"Urgh, don't tease me", Ciel demanded.

"Of course not, Ciel", Sebastian purred. He pressed his tongue against Ciel's erection again, much more firmly this time, eliciting another groan from the blue-haired young man. Ciel leaned back into his pillows, one arm across his face, as Sebastian continue licking stripes up Ciel's erection.

After a few minutes, Sebastian ran his tongue up Ciel's cock, but this time settled his lips around the head of Ciel's hardness, sucking harshly and pressing his tongue into the already leaking slit. Ciel moaned as Sebastian continued sucking, the demon gradually taking in more and more of Ciel's erection.

Before long, Ciel moaned loudly, arching his back and coming into Sebastian's waiting mouth. Sebastian hummed as he swallowed it all down, continuing to suck for almost a full minute, making Ciel shiver with pleasure above him. Eventually, Sebastian released Ciel's softened cock with a pop. Ciel looked down at Sebastian sleepily, before yawning widely. Sebastian smiled at his mate, pulling Ciel's trousers back up.

"Sleep now, my little mate, and I'll prepare everything for us to leave", Sebastian said soothingly, reaching up and running his hand through Ciel's hair. Ciel nodded as he drifted asleep, leaving Sebastian to sort everything out for their trip.

Ciel paced back and forward, but slowly, muttering to himself repeatedly:

"Stupid damn demon, where is he? Never here when I need him."

He was pacing back and forward in front of the large bed in the bedroom he had been using for the last few months. He and Sebastian had done as Sebastian suggested, made it known that they were going on the Campania II, while in fact staying in a cottage out in the countryside. Ciel even had managed to get time off from his duties as the Queen's watchdog, at least in a way, as she believed that the Campania II may suffer from the same problems as the first Campania, and had in fact approved of Ciel going on the voyage.

"Urgh", Ciel groaned in pain, gripping his belly. He was now coming up on 8 months pregnant. Earlier that day he had woken up to find a note from Sebastian, stating that the demon had gone to acquire items which could pass as souvenirs from America, as the ship would have docked in the final port it was stopping at by this time. What had woken Ciel was a pain in his belly, and although he knew Sebastian would be able to sense it instantly if there was any problem with the baby, he was still a little concerned at the twinges, which were only increasing in frequency.

Ciel started at the sound of the front door opening downstairs. He was going to head down the stairs, but he heard Sebastian beginning to come up the stairs, so decided to let the demon come to him. Just as Sebastian opened the bedroom door, a larger twinge hit Ciel and he groaned loudly, gripping his stomach.

"Where have you been?" Ciel groaned.

"I did leave a message –"

"It still took you ages", Ciel complained, before groaning again and sinking to the floor. Sebastian reached down and lifted up the teen, placing him on the bed.

"It seems you are in labour, my young mate", Sebastian said. "I will fetch everything we need."

"Stay", Ciel ordered, grabbing Sebastian's arm.

"It won't take long, but I have to fetch a few things to help. How long have you been feeling these pains?"

"They woke me up this morning, at least three hours ago", Ciel replied.

Sebastian felt the bed, finding a wet patch and realising that Ciel's water had broken a few hours ago.

"Just relax as much as possible, my young mate, I'll sort everything and make sure you are fine", Sebastian said soothingly, reaching up to stroke Ciel's hair.

"Sebastian, 'm tired", Ciel groaned, before grunting a bit as another contraction hit him.

"Hold on", Sebastian said, before running downstairs, grabbing something, and returning, his demonic abilities allowing him to do this in the blink of an eye.

"Sebastian –"

"Drink this", Sebastian said, handing Ciel the small bottle he'd just grabbed from the kitchen. "It will make you sleep through the birth."

Ciel looked at Sebastian a little skeptically, but still accepted the bottle of purplish-orange liquid and drank it. He closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep, knowing Sebastian would make sure everything was okay, with both Ciel and the baby.

CAMPANIA II RETURNS TO ENGLAND

Ciel set down the paper, the headline the same as it had been for the last few days, ever since the boat had returned. Probably due to what happened with the first Campania, Ciel thought to himself. He leaned on his hand, elbow on the ledge of the carriage window as he watched the countryside move past. Sebastian was sat opposite him.

"Would you like to hold her?" Sebastian asked.

"Sure", Ciel replied, tiredness evident in his voice as he took the baby girl from Sebastian and settled her on his lap.

"Are you still tired, young master?"

"Well, it would be easier if she slept during the night rather than only during the day", Ciel pointed out.

The carriage slowed down, making a turn before continuing slowly.

"I believe we are home", Sebastian stated, as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Phantomhive Manor.

"Are you sure the explanation will work?" Ciel asked.

"I believe it will. Anyway, allow me." Sebastian opened the carriage door, stepping down and helping Ciel out of the carriage, the blue-haired young teen still carrying the baby girl. Sebastian thanked the carriage driver, who circled round and headed away from the Manor, leaving Sebastian and Ciel to enter the house, Sebastian opening the door for Ciel.

The four servants were waiting inside the entryway to the house:

"Welcome back, young master", they chorused, all of them bowing.

"Is that a baby?" Finnian asked.

"I think it is", Bard added, before either Sebastian or Ciel could say anything. Ciel gave Sebastian a look, and the demon nodded, while Ciel headed upstairs to the master bedroom.

"If the four of you will head into the sitting room, I will explain", Sebastian said, indicating the four of them to head into the sitting room.

"Including about the baby?" Mey-rin asked.

"What else needs explaining?" Sebastian asked.

"Oh, yeah, I guess that's it", she mused thoughtfully, one finger on her chin.

The five Phantomhive servants headed into the sitting room, four of them sitting down, while Sebastian stood in front of them.

"Now then, as you all know, we were on the maiden voyage of the Campania II. While we were there we encountered a young widow, who was returning to her family in America. She found that the Campania II would be the quickest way to get there, as she was heavily pregnant. Her husband had died in the Sudan Campaign, a war going on at the moment which involves some English troops, but she herself was originally from America, while her husband was English. She had told many people on board that she was returning to America to her last remaining family, a distant cousin named John. While we were on the voyage, she went into labour, and ultimately died in childbirth. Her surname was that of her deceased husband, and her cousin was known only as John, so the baby would have been put in an orphanage upon arrival. Our young master, as a philanthropist, as well as due to the fact that the woman had been a good person, decided to adopt the child. She will be the Phantomhive heir rather than be left in an American orphanage. Any questions?"

"What if the young master ever gets married?" Mey-rin asked.

"I don't believe he's that interested in such matters", Sebastian responded.

"Yeah, we...know", Bard said purposefully. So he knows, Sebastian thought to himself. In fact, they probably all do, unsurprising really given the amount of noise I can get him to make.

"Well then, I will go and check on the master –"

"What's her name?" Finnian asked.

"Rachel Valentia Phantomhive."

"That's pretty", Mey-rin commented.

"Yes, it is", Sebastian agreed. "It is also made up of the young Lord's mother's name, as well as a name derived from a Latin word meaning strong, powerful and healthy. Now if you'll all excuse me, I am going to check on the young Lord and Rachel."

Sebastian left the four of them in the room, heading upstairs to check on Ciel and Rachel. He entered the bedroom to see Ciel sat on the bed, watching Rachel crawl around on the bed but also making sure she wouldn't fall off.

"They know about us", Sebastian said, as soon as he was sure the door was closed.

"And Rachel?"

"They believed my story."

"What if someone looks into the situation?"

"A pregnant woman did die in childbirth on the ship. The only detail we have changed is that the baby was in reality stillborn. However, it didn't take much to change the memories of the midwife and doctor who helped her so that they believed a young English Earl adopted the baby girl."

"What shall we do now then?" Ciel asked.

"Well, I will sort out a nursery for her in the bedroom opposite this one. I will also sort a cot in your office. For now, I suggest you go and get started on the paperwork which I'm sure has been piling up over the last few months. I will arrange for some tea."

"What about her?" Ciel asked, looking to where Rachel had fallen asleep again at the foot of Ciel's bed. In the second it took him to look at her and back at Sebastian, there was a flurry of sheets. Ciel saw that Sebastian was holding an unusual-looking piece of fabric, which the demon then tied around himself. He lifted Rachel gently, before sliding her into the fabric, which kept her firmly attached to his back.

"I will carry her while I sort a cot in your office, then she can sleep there while I build her nursery."

"Sebastian, you still haven't told me if being part-demon will affect her in any way."

"We'll have to wait and see – and that's not me avoiding the issue, if she is in any way different it will not be evident until it becomes evident."

"Fine. Go sort the cot and some tea. I'll change and then head down there."

"Do you require assistance changing clothes?"

"No. Besides, if you go and sort out the cot and tea, it'll probably be ready in the time it takes me to change and get to my office, right?"

"Of course, young master", Sebastian responded, bowing to Ciel, but only bowing a short way, so that Rachel wouldn't be disturbed on his back. The demon left the room to begin his task while Ciel stood up to get changed, hoping that everyone else would believe their story of where Rachel came from as easily as the four servants had done.

End

Series this work belongs to:

← Previous Work Part 4 of SebaCiel

[rwby-redux]

Ilia's last name change - guessing you either didn't want to use a Native name or didn't want to name her 'rainbow' just bc gay? (I might recommend googling Amirault though, I figure you mean the painter or smth but my first and overpowering result was. yikes. dunno if that guy was what you're aiming for)

[one quick Google search later]

…well, shit.

Okay, so that’s definitely getting changed. Fortunately, it’s a relatively easy fix—I can just voice the dental plosive and change it from [t] to [d], so Amirauld instead of Amirault. Thank you for catching that, anon! Rest assured, that was absolutely not my intention, and I’ll be making sure I do more thorough name-checking going forward.

There’s a few reasons why I changed Amitola to Amirauld. The first, as you correctly guessed, is because the name is Lakota (Lakȟótiyapi). I talked about it briefly here, but suffice to say, I wasn’t exactly impressed with Rooster Teeth’s choice to use a word from an endangered indigenous language, and give it an in-universe minority introduced in the show as an antagonist working for a terrorist group. The whole appropriative aspect notwithstanding, it just really struck me as offensive and rather tone-deaf.

The second is because Ilia, as it currently stands, is one of only a few canonically queer characters. Is it possible that she was called “rainbow” because she has a color-changing ability? Sure. But she was, at the time the episode debuted, the show’s first openly queer character. And tokenly calling your gay character rainbow, while also framing her motive as revenge for being rejected by a love interest, really didn’t sit well with me.

As for why I chose Amirauld, I wanted a surname that was still loosely similar-sounding to the canon, but that was also of French etymology.

I noticed a while ago that several characters from Atlas have names that are either Western Romance (Ciel Soleil, Jacques Gelé) or Germanic (Weiss Schnee). The pattern is probably a coincidence, but since Ilia is also from Atlas, I figured that I might as well roll with it.

[abybweisse]

Hi!

To begin with, I wanted to thank you for this fantastic blog of yours, I LOVE it, your posts are always awesome (especially when it comes to Kuroshitsuji) and interesting, and your theories often echo mines! 🥰

Then, I recently read your post about the similarity between the Earl Cain series and Black Butler and so I saw that you (more or less) support the theory that Undertaker could be Cedric K. Ros-(?) who was Cloudia/Claudia's husband (and Vincent's father etc.).

I must confess that I was never really into this theory as I rather consider the reason Undertaker is so enamoured by the Phantomhives is because 50 years ago, he fell in love with Claudia (and perhaps she loved him back) but unable to save her from death, he became obsessed with reviving dead people.

But anyway, after reading your post I was pretty puzzled and searched around to see what things could point into the direction of "Undertaker is Vincent", but couldn't find anything particularly convincing. At some point even, the theory is supported because of some guy holding a bloody/dead Vincent-looking man in his arms (Volume 22, Chapter 105, page 11), however it was proven that these two people were actually Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby, two original shinigami that Yana-san created for the musical Kuroshitsuji: The most beautiful DEATH in the world and who became canon in the manga. So, my question finally 😅 is that I wanted to know YOUR points to support the Undertaker/Vincent theory.

Thank you very much for the answer, your blog (again!) and all the work you do for it every time! (And sorry for the long ask 😂)

Thank you. I’m glad you are enjoying my blog.

Please see my posts about Undertaker likely being Cedric. I’ve blogged about it countless times, including reblogs of others who provided good evidence to support it. Use the tags below to find the vast majority of those posts. You can also just use this link to the Tagging Masterpost and click the link for Undertaker’s identity. I strongly suggest that anyone who wants to ask me theory questions checks out that tagging masterpost. That’s why it’s also linked in my pinned post.

But I will address a few specific things you mentioned.

You think he might have fallen in love with Cloudia/Claudia 50 years prior to the current time? It’s 1889 now, so 50 years ago was 1839. She was born in 1830. Unless Undertaker turns out to be an unforgivable pedophile, he didn’t fall in love with a 9 year old girl. And she didn’t fall in love with some weird dude when she was 9. She didn’t have Vincent until she was 21, and she died in 1866 at the age of 36.

Besides, he tried to destroy the reaper organization’s HQ around 20 years earlier than 50 years ago, which would put that event at about 1819. And there’s reason to believe his initial experiments with corpses and cinematic records started around that time, roughly 70 years ago. He said it started out as mere curiosity about humans, life, and death. It wasn’t until the attack on Phantomhive Manor that he started making the really advanced “dolls”, like real Ciel, Polaris, etc.

I’ve never said Cedric was Cloudia/Claudia’s husband, in fact I’ve said several times that I don’t think she married. She was born into the Phantomhive family and was probably expected to keep that name, thanks to her watchdog duties. Perhaps Queen Victoria even hoped the Phantomhive name would die with her. But she had children by a man she probably never married. The children got her surname instead of their father’s. This continued the Phantomhive name and, if their father is more than human, perhaps these kids would be “stronger” (in some way) than the previous generations.

I don’t know why people get so confused looking at the Phantomhive family tree. It only shows the direct lines (so Frances isn’t shown there, even though we know she’s Vincent’s full sibling; Yana-san confirmed this in a tweet years ago). It doesn’t actually show who is married to whom, unless the married couple is also the biological parents of the children. It does, however, show who the biological parents are, even if they never married each other.

I’ve never heard or read anyone claiming that the reapers shown in ch105 were anyone other than Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries. At least not anyone being serious. So 😆! Of course that’s not Vincent. And there’s no rational Undertaker = Vincent theory. None.

Undertaker became a reaper a long time ago, probably a few (maybe even several) hundred years ago. Vincent was born in 1851 and died in 1885, at the age of 34. The reaper records of births and deaths are likely to be true. Which brings us to Cedric’s birth and death dates. There’s a darn good reason why we can see the days and months but not the years. The years are not even going to be in the 1800’s. Not if Cedric is Undertaker. My best guess, so far, is he died before 1366. He could have been a regular human as early as ~1200. 😊 (Please see the posts about Ivanhoe and Cedric of Rotherwood for why I think it could go back that far. And please see my posts about 136649 to see why I think he died before 1366.)

Sorry, but I have nothing to say about Undertaker being Vincent, other than that’s hogwash. They’ve even worked together and been in the same room together.

And I have every reason to believe that Undertaker is Cedric — Vincent’s and Frances’ biological father. My previous posts and reblogs on the subject should speak for themselves.

However, feel free to ask specific questions about those posts, if something isn’t clear. Sometimes it is clear in my head but doesn’t always come across that way.