#don't expect any more fics posted so nice and early in the am lol

[forsworned]

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't. 

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night. 

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

[set-phasers-to-whump]

a little out of the ordinary

prompt: "this wasn't supposed to happen"

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi everybody and welcome to my first whumptober fic of 2022!!!! one of only two that i worked on ahead of time lmao. anyways this fic is set well into the group's partnership, we're talking a couple years probably. hope you enjoy!!

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” Napoleon shouts, and yeah, Illya had kind of gotten that idea already. Running away from at least seven guards, some of whom have machine guns, is not something that is generally supposed to happen on a simple reconnaissance mission. 

He doesn’t even know what had gone wrong. In fact, everything had gone exactly according to plan - right up to the moment that these men had appeared and started shooting at them. He doesn’t understand it, but that’s something for the debriefing. Right now, all he needs to do is not get shot. And not lose his camera, unless he wants all this running and bullet-dodging to be for nothing. 

They’re running towards a forest, and beyond that, the mountains. Gaby is ahead of them, somewhere in that forest, waiting with the car. Illya wonders if she can hear the shots. He thinks it’s nearly impossible that she wouldn’t. 

He hopes that she doesn’t try to drive out and meet them. With the kind of luck they’re experiencing at the moment, they’d probably end up missing each other, or the doors would get stuck and he and Napoleon would be shot to death trying to get in. 

Well. Maybe that’s a bit fatalistic. Not that it isn’t warranted, he’s reminded, as a bullet whizzes by so close to his ear that for several seconds he can’t hear a thing. 

He turns and fires off a shot, not slowing down. It hits home. A step or two in front of him, Napoleon does the same. He misses. Illya turns again, shoots, hits. 

“I must have loosened him up for you,” Napoleon shouts, hardly audible over the gunfire. Illya has absolutely no idea what this means. He says nothing, just keeps running.

They’re still outnumbered, but they’re at the edge of the forest and traveling lighter than their pursuers. Illya briefly turns his head and sees that they’ve gained a few feet of separation. Now that they’re in the woods, of course, there are other problems. 

Bits of wood begin to spray up around them as bullets meet trees. The noise echoes around and there are obstacles underfoot. It’s darker, too, and noticeably cooler beneath the shade of the trees. Illya gets the feeling that something is going to happen. He doesn’t much like it, tries to ignore it. 

Something happens. 

At first, he thinks he’s been shot, at long last. He hits the ground so fast he doesn’t even realize it’s happened until he’s flat on his face and breathing in dirt. His ankle feels like it’s on fire. His left wrist is pinned beneath his body, and he can feel that it’s been broken. 

“Illya!” Napoleon yells. 

“Keep running!” Illya shouts back. “I am right behind you!” 

He shoves himself to his feet, his wrist buckling from the pain. The guards are closing in and his ankle is sending waves of pain up his entire leg and he starts to run but it keeps folding underneath him and he can’t catch up to Napoleon, can’t run with him. 

But he can help him get away.

He stops running, turns around, raises his gun, and fires. Once, twice, three times. Three guards go down. A bullet hits his shoulder. He gets a fourth shot off, a fifth. The fifth misses. A round of machine-gun fire tears up the tree to his right, sending splinters into his side. He shoots one last time. The final guard goes down. 

He tries to start running again, to catch up with Napoleon, whom he can’t even see anymore. But his ankle refuses to take any weight. He forces a few steps before it folds completely. He sinks to the ground against a slightly chewed up tree and takes inventory of everything. 

Firstly, and most importantly, is the camera. The lens is shattered and its body is fairly beaten up, but the back has remained shut. The film will be fine. The mission - as far as objectives go - can still be counted as a success. 

On to himself. His ankle hurts more than anything else, but it hasn’t been shot. There is no bullet hole in his boot and no dampness inside it. Broken, he thinks, like his wrist, which is already swelling painfully. 

The bullet wound in his shoulder hurts, too, but it’s not the first time he’s been shot - not the first time he’s been shot in this shoulder, either. It’s nothing too life-threatening. He carefully pulls off his jacket and lopsidedly ties it around the wound, a difficult task with his left wrist unable to do much of anything. 

Thanks to his thick clothes, he’s mostly been spared the annoyance of splinters, but the right side of his face stings with them. He can feel the slivers of wood embedded in the skin. They’re nothing so serious at all, but they’re another thing he is going to have to deal with, assuming he ever finds the strength to get himself out of these woods. Assuming no more guards come after him. 

He’s just gathering the strength to attempt standing again when he hears, very faintly, the hum of an engine. For a second, he moves into high gear, checking his weapon and scanning the area, before he realizes that he knows this particular sound. 

It’s their getaway car. 

His partners. 

He stands up almost easily, the pain receding to the back of his mind. He walks slowly but steadily towards the sound, watching the car come closer and closer, until they meet. He’s inside the car before either of his partners even open their doors. 

“Everyone is okay?” Illya asks, as Gaby spins the car around back in the direction they’d come from. 

“Everyone but you,” says Napoleon. “I thought…” He trails off before he can finish the sentence, and does not say anything more. 

“You are very lucky and very stupid,” Gaby says. “Napoleon said you took down seven guards by yourself.”

“And he did not try to take credit for a single one of them?”

Gaby almost smiles at this. “I’m glad you’re okay. Both of you. But what happened?”

Illya shrugs with his uninjured shoulder. “Everything was fine.”

“And then it wasn’t,” adds Napoleon. “And you got shot.”

“I am fine. Besides, I made sure you did not get shot.”

“And I thank you for that, really. But. I thought you were right behind me. You said…”

He had said. “Sorry. I didn’t think it would be so bad.”

“Didn’t think what, exactly, would be so bad?”

“My foot.”

“Did you get shot more than once?” This is Gaby, turning halfway around in the driver’s seat. 

“No. Broken, I think. Annoying, that is all.”

“Anything else you haven’t shared?” Napoleon asks, himself turned fully around in the passenger’s seat. 

He does not suppose he can get away with lying, not now. He holds up his hand in lieu of saying anything. 

Napoleon sucks in a breath. “That looks bad.”

Illya shrugs his good shoulder again. “Could be worse.”

“Could be better.”

Napoleon does have a point, he supposes. “Could be better, also,” he allows. 

Napoleon finally almost smiles. “Never thought you’d actually agree with me on matters of your own safety, Peril.” 

“Shut up, Cowboy.” 

Gaby and Napoleon both grin at this. Illya can still sense the worry underneath, which he can’t fault them for, but they’re smiling nonetheless. They’re okay. 

He allows himself the smallest of smiles in return as they pull onto the main road and head towards their rendezvous point. Things certainly could have gone better today. But they could have gone worse. He has his film, his partners, and his life all still intact. 

This is how things are supposed to be.

thanks so much for reading!!!! sorry it's not super heavy on the pain but there is plenty of time for that throughout the month :) which i am hoping to complete and probably will, though i am going to be like crazy busy. we will persevere. anyways i hope you liked it, love you all and see you tomorrow!

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Valentine's Day, Kuroshitsuji style

IzzyV

Summary:

Like the butterfly effect, one action triggered another, and no one would have predicted the end result. Spending Valentine's Day with his fiancée...it made sense, didn't it? Too bad the young man wasn't sure of his feelings. It's not like Sebastian has all the answers with him... SebaCiel, lime, some OoC.

Notes:

Fanfic of 2014 that I am rescuing in case the flies and ffnet falls. I didn't reread it very well because he gave me some cringe, so if you feel any tag is missing, please tell me. c:

I rescue with everything and comments to save the whole experience, lol.

Work Text:

Happy Valentines Day! For lovers, I hope you had a very romantic day. For those of us who don't have that special being, I hope you had a nice day, surrounded by friends and family.

Strength Venezuela! If there is any Venezuelan here.

This goes to Ertal77, who put up with my twists and turns, my complaints, and my literary mess with tenses. ;)

I'm sorry if it's not Valentine's Day in your country anymore, I wanted to post early, but my brother hoarded the computer. XD

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, characters or original plot. Everything belongs to Yana Toboso. If I was entitled to even one thousandth of the right, I would have begged Yana to bring the manga forward to today. :3

Warnings: excess fluf, some OoC, lime. This was a fic that I devised to make something nice, cute and semi-porn of this beautiful and precious fandom, so don't expect anything dark or... very in keeping with their personalities. XD

Enjoy!

-.-

Valentine's Day, Kuroshitsuji style.

-.-.-.-

-.-.-

-.-

Being confused by such a small date was not something worthy of a noble. But maybe… could she give herself some time to sink into his feelings?

The young Phantomhive was getting worse every day. Hanging around those dates made him thoughtful and robbed him of sleep. So much so that at that moment he just lay in his bed waiting for Sebastián to come and pick him up, because he had been awake for hours.

He never gave himself time to think about anything other than revenge, so why not waste some time on…?

Nope! She thought to herself as she gave a loud yawn.

Valentine's… Valentine's… What exactly was that date?

A date to spend with a special being? An excuse for mass consumerism? It could be both, in a world so complicated and full of nuances, but who in this world has the opportunity to really fall in love with a person? The best example of the case was him. His parents "condemned" him to an arranged engagement, denying him any chance to fall in love on his own.

Not to mention that he would never enjoy love, even if he found it -or if he fell in love with his cousin- because he had a contract to pay.

So wasting his time thinking about that was stupid. It was stupid and yet...

It belongs to Sebastian. His soul belongs to Sebastian. All of his being belongs to Sebastian . Why did those kinds of –stupid- thoughts come to him at this moment?

I really didn't know, and I didn't want to know. But the fact of thinking that something of him belonged to Sebastian... Thinking of Sebastian, simply... made him stir between the sheets, in a not at all pleasant feeling.

In another moment, Sebastián had also spent the night awake, more out of habit than to find himself thinking about something in reality. He didn't like to sleep because he was a very heavy sleeper and with a master as demanding as Ciel Phantomhive was, he preferred to always be on the lookout for anything that might happen.

Sticky Toffee, maybe? She thought of all the desserts she knew, and given the situation, less is more. That would be perfect.

Sebastian was aware that his master was not a fan of those kinds of dates, but he knew how much he liked sweets. As he also knew that the young man's fiancee would probably appear, and having everything prepared was worthy of a servant like him. In the midst of his musings, he wondered if this year I love her would want him to keep the girl away. He was so stubborn in that regard.

It's final , Ciel thought determinedly. He was going to spend Valentine's Day with his cousin…his fiancée. Really, without pouting. He had been begging her for days, and he didn't see any problem in going on a date with her.

Ciel supposed that the presence of his cousin would remove that feeling of discomfort. Because if his future wife couldn't reassure him, what was he going to do?

"Good morning, young master," Sebastian greeted him delicately, as he drew back the curtains to let in the sunlight. I notice that you have been awake for a while, is something worrying you?

Everything sounded so false and lying that Ciel pursed his lips. That damned demon doesn't care about me in any way! he thought with annoyance. And immediately he remembered that he had decided not to think about it. He remembered that he had decided that he agreed with his fate, and that thinking such nonsense was only wreaking havoc on his sleeping hours.

The curious thing about the case was that, in fact, Sebastian was not worried about his young master. After all, he would never be hurt because it was his duty to protect him, and they hadn't been through any stressful situations for the young man. So he assumed he had just had a bad night, ergo he just asked out of courtesy.

"Sebastian," she called with as much serenity as she could muster, as she sat down lazily and directed her gaze towards the man. Today is the fourteenth of February, and you know what that means, Elizabeth will come and… He paused for a moment, as he thought over his next words.

Sebastian smiled, amused. His young master was so predictable where Miss Elizabeth was concerned. He didn't need to listen anymore, living with the young man for so long had made him get to know him. He began to pour her -almost cliche- cup of Earl Gray while he replied:

- I understand. My young master wants me to keep her distracted. Although I would recommend that she spend some time with her fiancée, master, since…

"Sebastian, you're not letting me talk," answered Ciel, somewhat dazed. Sebastian wasn't usually that talkative. He didn't mind though, because he knew even he himself would have thought that was going to be his request. What he wanted to tell you is just the opposite. I want to spend the day with my fiancée, and I want you to set up the living room to receive her there.

Fiancee? Spend the day with her?

"As you order," he blurted out. She had no reason to bother about it. She wasn't bothering about it. That would be stupid . So no, Sebastian wasn't upset that his young master wanted to spend Valentine's Day with his fiancée. He just annoyed him because he didn't like it when Ciel did that, when he found it unpredictable. Yes, that must be it , he resolved while he dedicated himself to dressing his mistress.

Ciel couldn't help but groan when the noose over his throat tightened almost to choke him.

"I beg your pardon," Sebastian said without a hint of true remorse in his voice. Ciel looked at him thoughtfully, and took a sip of his tea.

— You've been acting weird, Sebastian. Is something wrong with you? —. In truth, the whole situation gave him a bad feeling. She almost felt as if…she had to apologize to the man . And that was ridiculous . Why was Sebastian upset? If he was upset. Because of… Because of Elizabeth?

That makes no sense.

Sebastian finished putting the boy's shoes on and stood up gracefully. He looked at her with as much respect as he could muster, and replied:

"Of course not, young master. So you're sure of his decision regarding Miss Elizabeth?

“Are you defying my words? Don't make me repeat it, Sebastian.

The butler had to keep his eyes from rolling at the earl's childish attitude. He gave her a polite reply, and left the room to make sure Ciel had his breakfast ready; then he went to fulfill the order of his master.

Meanwhile, in the earl's room, he was in the same position in which the man had left him.

What's up with all this crap? No. Ciel was a capable man. He was a capable man, owner of a mansion, a company and a noble title. He was a person with a lot of power, and he was not going to let himself be intimidated by the stupid and strange attitude of an obnoxious, out of place butler. No, he wouldn't. He owned all that damn land, and if he wanted to spend his Valentine's Day with…Undertaker! He would if he wanted.

She dug her nails into her palms and made a mental note: Don't think of Undertaker in any remotely romantic way ever.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Middford girl was very happy about her date with her fiancé. Every year she went to visit him on that date, but she had a feeling that on that day, something could make Ciel happy. That was her dream of hers, and she hoped to fulfill it.

He arrived at the mansion at two in the afternoon with several suitcases to "decorate the room in a manner appropriate for Valentine's Day". Sebastian came out to greet her, while Snake took care of her luggage.

Is rare. Elizabeth thought as she looked at Sebastian. She had barely said a few polite words to him. Generally, Sebastian would tell him something about Ciel's mood, or rather make a friendly joke about Ciel's character. He was unusually quiet, though, of course, charming nonetheless.

He was thinking about that as he headed towards Ciel's study. Maybe she's sad about spending Valentine's Day alone. But he didn't think much of it because he arrived at his destination, and the only thing his brain could process was his lovely fiancé doing paperwork.

"Ciel..." she couldn't help but whisper, excited. Over the years she had worked on her self-control, and each time she tried not to throw herself into a hug until she suffocated the boy, but it was very difficult at times.

Ciel looked up and gave him his typical crooked smile. With all the chivalry that he knew he was capable of, she asked him to wait for her, that he had some documents to sign, but that she would immediately devote all of his attention to her.

*crooked smile* *crooked smile* *Lizzy dying of excitement*

The girl couldn't with herself. Ciel had never treated her like that! Could it be that she finally recognized all her efforts to make him happy?

- Excuse me for interrupting, the room is ready. Sebastian's deep voice interrupted the young people's moment. Ciel just nodded and Elizabeth looked at him confused.

"But I brought decorations to fix it myself...

"You don't have to worry about that, my young lady, what kind of butler would I be, if I couldn't handle simple themed decorations?"

That guy, and that damn phrase. Who does he think he is? And why so much trust with my fiancee?

"Sebastian, always so efficient," said the girl, while she laughed softly.

The young man finished a stroke of his stylized signature, and prepared to take his fiancée to spend the afternoon together. The weather was bad, so Lizzy was disappointed that she couldn't have a picnic outside but, as long as she went with Ciel, it didn't matter where she went.

- Sebastian! This is amazing!” The girl said as she jumped up and down with excitement. Good thing I didn't set out to accommodate it myself, this is pure genius.

The room was fully ornate, without being cheesy. The lights had been dimmed, giving the place a warm and welcoming tone. There were decorations of hearts, swans, -all kinds of matching animals- all over the place. Different shades of red filled the place, without looking ornate. The place was filled with a soft scent of roses, which were distributed throughout the place, on the tables, on the sides of the chair, there were petals on the floor...

Even Ciel had to admit that the butler-demon had done an excellent job. He didn't come across as cheesy and crude, as he imagined his cousin would have adorned him. He scans the room with his eyes and when he looks from him to Sebastian he sees him with a devilish grin on his face.

— Is the master pleased with my work? She asked, bowing respectfully, without letting go of that smile. Even if he wanted to, Sebastian couldn't contain the desire to annoy him.

Ciel was caught off guard by this question. Damned demon. He glanced quickly at Lizzy, who was looking at him with little stars in her eyes, and all she made of it was click her tongue and mumble something about a job done decently.

Sebastian smiled pleased and went to do other chores. He could live with it. Sebastian felt an inexplicable desire to be the best butler for Ciel. For being the best for him, for pleasing that child. It was the first time he had a contract, of this kind, with a human. He didn't know if he would be like that with everyone, but he did know that he loved following orders from that spoiled child. If only it wasn't so much fun to mess it up.

The appointment passed with an almost strange normality. A feeling of comfort, but not familiar. It was hard to explain. There was a place where they could settle down to have a snack, like a picnic. At Elizabeth's request, and Sebastian gladly complied. Seeing the heart-shaped cakes, Ciel began to suspect that the demon was a first-rate cheesy, deep down. Then he laughed to himself, because he knew more than anyone about his lack of feeling.

They spent the evening talking about various topics, mostly banalities. Being in this situation with her cousin made him feel better about love . He felt something warm in his chest, but he wasn't sure if it was right. For some reason, the situation made him feel homesick. As if something or someone was missing .

But overall it wasn't bad. The complaint was not because the occasion was bad. He was sitting right next to the girl, their hands intertwined and her warm breath hitting his face, as she talked about a trip to France. Everything felt…good. He generally shunned her physical contact, but he didn't dislike it, not at all... He loved her cousin, for better or for worse, but was he in love with her?

He shook his shoulders listlessly, thinking about that situation gave him a headache, and he didn't understand when Lizzy started talking about a new fashion that was sweeping England. She tried to listen to him, but she didn't quite get the point, so she proposed a game of chess.

"Ciel, that's the only game you like to play…" she complained in a somewhat childish way, pouting. I propose something to you, and if you play a violin piece for me?” She requested something excited. She was sure that Ciel would say yes to that. She already knew that her fiancé didn't have much dancing skills, and that games other than her brain skills would bore him. Just like her, she also knew how much Ciel liked her violin.

This request caught Ciel off guard, however Lizzy's excited eyes and his own affinity towards his instrument pushed him to accept the proposal. She opened her mouth to reply when a throat clearer interrupted her.

"Young master…" Sebastian told him as he shows the violin he has in his hands. Ciel wasn't as upset by the interruption, as he was by the realization that that damned demon knew everything about him.

It seemed that that –stupid- mischievous smile never disappeared from his face, and Ciel had to turn his eyes because seeing that smile made him sting, he just didn't know what kind. He directed her gaze to the girl, whose eyes were shining, smiled at her and took her instrument with a bad attitude, which made Sebastian laugh internally.

He went to the center of the room, where -the imbecile- Sebastian, had placed the music stand with the score of his favorite piece. Moron.

She smirked at Elizabeth before beginning to play. She was a few meters from him and further back was, in his correct and hateful position of her, the demon-butler listening intently to the piece.

He needed to concentrate. It was a somewhat complicated piece, which is why it was one of his favorites. She closed her eyes gently, concentrating on the movement of her hands, and when she felt comfortable she opened them again and directed her gaze to the blonde girl.

Am I doing it right? She couldn't help but wonder. Lizzy was looking at him with excitement in her eyes, but she didn't know much about music, so, in a human reflex of needing approval, she glanced at her at the one she sometimes played as her violin tutor. .

He was amazed by the count's presentation, he had never played the piece with such elegance. So he smiled approvingly at her when he glanced at her, and gave her a reassuring nod. Ciel smiled softly at that and continued the piece, looking towards his butler.

It wasn't like he needed her approval. Of course not, because what that demon thought didn't matter, and his thoughts or emotions could go to hell. But for some reason, he liked the idea of ​​knowing that Sebastian was proud of him. That Sebastian had liked an attitude or action of his.

Neither took their eyes off the other until the piece ended. Ciel lowered the violin from his shoulder, held his breath and had to look away from the man, who also did the same.

It's very intense , she thought as she let out a breath. Sebastian's look was just...

It did not make sense. What did he gain by looking at Sebastian like that? Was he a fucking masochist? Did he like that Sebastian made fun of him? She was probably gloating right now about how she needed his approval, and damn it , he didn't care what Sebastian thought or did or thought. She didn't need him to smile at her, much less for her to look at him, which was probably annoyed, although he thought it was… What with that look? She almost seemed... affectionate.

No, this could not be done. He couldn't believe for a minute that this demon was interested in him, because all he wanted was his soul. He couldn't get his hopes up about… Get his hopes up about what? It wasn't even legal to be with another man! And less with a servant... what was he thinking...

I should stop thinking nonsense. Besides, getting excited about Sebastián would imply that she liked Sebastián and he rather felt that something else… Nonsense! Knowing that Sebastián was attractive didn't make her like him, as well as feeling protected by his side, or that he was the only being who understood everything that was happening to him… Damn.

Lizzy pounced on him and showered him with compliments about how cute he looked playing.

Sebastian, for his part, managed to blow the hair that was falling on his face. He was annoyed by that situation... Wait a minute, for what reason? It was stupid. Jealous that his contractor was spending time with someone else? It was ridiculous and on top of…low-class demon attitude.

Sebastian could admit that he was attracted to the teenage brat. His soul was attractive enough for that. Just as he was also a unique and special person, with a conviction like no other, that when he got angry he would make that tender pout like a kitten and...

Damn , he thought as he massaged his temple. She couldn't be doing that, she had work to do. She left the room quickly, not noticing how blue eyes followed her trail as she walked away from her.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sebastian and Ciel were dispatching Elizabeth from the mansion. The girl planned to stay that night, but they decided that it was better not to worry the marquise in that way, that Ciel would be the one who would have to bear her scolding.

"This was an incredible evening, Ciel," the girl said as she lovingly took her hands, and Ciel gave her his best fake smile to please her.

Elizabeth was flying on cotton candy riding unicorns that spewed chocolate. Her fiancé had been incredibly tender with her – as tender as the boy could be – and at last she felt that he hadn't been her typical annoyance to him.

— Ciel I… — muttered the girl as she got as close as she could to Ciel.

The boy looked at him in surprise and understood what the girl wanted. For a few moments she found herself wondering what she had to do. His cousin was definitely attractive and she was in love with him. The girl closed her eyes and he almost decided to give her a simple kiss on the cheek, risking disappointing the girl, when she turned and saw her butler looking at him with… anger?

What happens? Why the hell is he angry? The boy frowned and watched as Sebastian dug his nails into the palms of his hands. What happened to him? Sebastian had no right to give an opinion, not even to think about anything about him. If he wanted to kiss his damn fiancée of his, he would, and there was nothing that idiot demon could do about it. That he probably didn't even want to do anything. That damned demon was probably angry because someone was touching his dinner, and Ciel decided that he wasn't interested in that idiot's selfish feelings, so he placed his hand on his cousin's cheek and gave her the best kiss he could, in his inexperience. .

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek, and sighed, relaxing his hands. He knew that this was going to happen at some point, that his master and his fiancée were going to go physical at some point. It did not matter. He wasn't upset with the girl, because she didn't know anything about what was n't going on between the two of them. He was also not interested in whether or not her master touched the -hateful- girl, because that was her duty as her future husband.

No, I wasn't upset about that. Not because he had decided to spend the date with the girl, was the most logical thing to do. Or because he had dedicated a -fucking- violin concert to the little music connoisseur. That didn't matter.

To admit her annoyance, she would have to admit a truth that she had tried to hide for years. The master of his attracted him. It was stupid, it was not new to him, but he felt that the whole development had been very ridiculous.

Coming back to the subject, the reason he was upset was because of the young man's attitude towards him. He clicked his tongue because the kiss was extending more than necessary and it bothered him that his master had no consideration for him...

Consideration with what? Since he was the damned master of that soul and that body! , and that spoiled child shouldn't be giving himself away to anyone who... But that wasn't just anyone, it was his fiancée. Ciel didn't know that Sebastian was upset, they were nothing...

Ciel believed that he had no feelings.

Damn .

Ciel released Lizzy from his grip and she was so stunned that she couldn't find the words to say, so she just got into the carriage with a wide smile and walked away, waving goodbye.

— I see that the young master has learned to… “tolerate” his fiancée more, if I'm not mistaken. Does that mean the future won't be looking for excuses to take her away from you?” Sebastian said, with all the malice he could muster. He was a much better player than Ciel in that area, that he didn't expect him to make it easy for him.

- Shut! I didn't ask for your opinion. Ciel was upset. That kiss had only left him more confused… Had he really only kissed the girl because he was upset with Sebastian?

Elizabeth didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve it and he...

Damn , he thought as he smoothed back the hair that was falling on his forehead. That while she was kissing her cousin, only she could think about how hateful Sebastian was and how she wasn't going to let him intimidate her.

Upon entering the mansion again, each went to do the last homework of the day. Ciel decided to fix some documents that he needed to review, and then go to sleep and end that tedious day. The visit of his cousin the only thing he managed to do was confuse him more and now he was confused by the always irritating Sebastian.

He paused for a moment and stretched out his arms. If... if he admitted to himself that he was... -and this is a word chosen at random for not having a better word to describe the situation...- attracted, towards Sebastian. Suppose he was. Just for a moment.

Did he have psychological problems? Seriously, being interested - falling in love - with a being like Sebastián only showed that something was wrong in her head.

She threw her head back on her desk and grabbed her hair in frustration. He was the only person in the world stupid enough to fall in love with an unfeeling being who only saw him as a gourmet dish.

He had to bite his lip in frustration, because making that discovery made him angry. He made her understand why he was so confused when he was around, with the whole idea of ​​Valentine's. He would rather remain in denial, the only thing missing is for him to come to…

"Young master, it is time for bed." Forget about it.

Ciel looked up and stared at the man in front of him. She glanced at him, not embarrassed, because he was the –fucking- master here and he did what he wanted and Sebastian couldn't tell him no.

Sebastian cringed into himself momentarily. What happened to the young man suddenly? He regained his composure quickly and asked:

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"Not at all, Sebastian," he answered as he closed his eyes in boredom and got up from his chair.

Both went to the young man's bedroom to prepare him for sleep. As usual, Ciel walked ahead and Sebastian followed about three steps behind.

The butler was reflecting on the situation. Even assuming the fact that he was somehow attracted to his contractor, that didn't change a thing. Ciel would never see it that way. For Ciel, he was just a servant who catered to his every whim and would help him complete his revenge, for a comfortable price. Ciel only saw their relationship as a business exchange. That was fine, because that was what it was all about.

Demons could get what they wanted from humans. And Sebastian was aware that he could seduce Ciel if he pleased. Ciel, despite everything, was still a human. But when you think about it...

Where did all that hypocritical morality come from? She had seduced hundreds of people in the past, why would his young master be any different? … Because he cared about Ciel.

fuck . Someone should write a book about the complications of having a master like Ciel Phantomhive.

Arriving at the room, Sebastian prepared to undress Ciel to put on his pajamas. It was a routine activity, in which they did not even look into each other's eyes, but this was not a night like the others. The tension was unbearable and almost palpable. Sebastian got down on his knees, and he couldn't help but watch the boy's neck move with each breath, and that only made him more eager to taste it, to know what it would be like to lick that neck and listen to the young man's moans of pleasure... He had to swallow thick at those thoughts.

Ciel could only get more heated, having the attractive butler between his legs, trying to remove the noose with which he almost strangled him this morning. The boy clutched his hands to the sheet, and when their eyes met, they just couldn't take it anymore. For a few minutes they hesitated, the young man grasping his wrists and lowering them to his waist, and Sebastian stopped playing games and leaned forward.

Their lips met hard. Ciel started out a bit shy, but he was getting more and more demanding. She grabbed Sebastian's tie to control him at will. Sebastian could only smile into the kiss, his young master did not change at any time. Ciel fell onto the mattress, and Sebastian climbed on top of him leaning on his knee.

Ciel opened his mouth and licked Sebastian's lower lip. He started begging furiously, to which Sebastian agreed by opening his mouth, causing their tongues to meet.

Ciel felt in the clouds. He began to take off Sebastian's jacket and his movements were more and more disordered, so he was beginning to lack air. Sebastian gently caressed her waist and the back of his neck before gently moving away. All that effort could be bad for him. Ciel made something similar to a pout when he felt them moving away from him.

Sebastian, what...

"You are very passionate, aren't you, young master?" She asked as she wiped away a trail of saliva that ran down to her chin.

Ciel felt his cheeks burn and only responded with a — Shut up! — To throw Sebastian on his bed and get on top of him.

“Do you have to ruin every moment we spend together? Ciel asked to finish taking off his tie and start taking off his jacket.

“I was just making a point, my lord. It's possible she'll have an asthma attack again if he doesn't do a better job of controlling his impulses. Sebastian had Ciel by the waist and began to take off his vest.

- You're an idiot, Sebastian. You are an idiot, as well as interested and false.

Ciel starts licking her lip, running his nose along her jaw.

— Interested and false? And why does my young lord have such a horrible notion of me? She asked as he put his hand under the young man's shirt and began to caress him.

Ciel sat up fully and began to move on top of him.

Come on, Sebastian! Let's stop being childish… I'm aware that the only reason you're reciprocating me is because I pity you, or because of some strange demonic habit that involves fucking your contractor. I don't care, I'll accept that. I just hope you keep quiet because I...

- Master, that's not...

— Oh, come on! — Ciel grabbed Sebastian's hair with such force that it almost hurt�� Now are you going to tell me that you've fallen in love with me? she said sarcastically as he looked away from the man.

"I…" Sebastian shrank into himself, and for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to answer.

Ciel raised an eyebrow and then suddenly started laughing. It wasn't a mocking or fake laugh, it was just that, a laugh. Sebastian smiled confused and asked why.

—It's just… Damn, this is so stupid and… clichéd and… —he raised the butler's body to strip him of the garment —I think we've wasted a lot of time— he whispered in his ear with all the sensuality he was capable of.

Wasted a lot of time, all in all. Sebastian couldn't contain his emotion and placed himself on top of Ciel again. He started licking her neck, and Ciel bit his lips trying to contain the moans that wanted to come out of his mouth.

Sebastian's hands ran down each side of the boy, making him shiver. He undressed him completely from the top and dedicated himself to savoring all of his chest.

"Sebastian, I…" Ciel sat up and took off his shirt, finishing undressing him. His curious hands go over all the skin he can go over. It's almost as pale as his and it's very soft.

It is a body that seems sculpted by the angels themselves. Speaking of irony. Ciel's mouth waters at the thought of him being in bed with his butler, busy with this kind of chores. Sebastián seemed to be just as ecstatic as he was, his eyes half-closed and an almost imperceptible blush on his cheeks. Ciel swallowed hard and looked back at the demon's body from him.

He traced her nipples with a naive interest, and decided to experiment with licking her breast with some shyness. She kept going down until she reached her belly, and then back up to meet her lips again.

This kid. He had received that kind of scrutiny in the past, but for some reason this time was much more intense than the previous times. Because Ciel mattered to him.

The kiss was hard and passionate. Slow, covering every inch of the other's mouth. Ciel directed his hands to the back of the butler's neck and they fell back onto the bed. It was a delicious mix of tongue and saliva that made Ciel see stars. Sebastian couldn't stop his hands that yearned to cover the entire body of the minor, who moaned in the kiss. He ran down the sides of his torso, his thighs, the small of his back that sent even more shivers up the boy's spine.

It was amazing .

Sebastian began to unbutton Ciel's pants and Ciel, by reflex, tried to close his legs.

"My master does not wish to go there?" Sebastian asked in his ear before playfully biting him. Pronouncing the words with a deep, grave once, and that my master had made Ciel have to suppress an extremely unseemly gasp.

- Do not be an idiot. It was a reflex action… And you can call me Ciel—she requested -she ordered- in a whisper, while she directed her gaze to another place.

" Okay, my Ciel , " he replied as he lowered his hand to unbutton his pants. Ciel gulped as he looked back at him and found that hellish red gaze burning with desire.

They shared another kiss and Sebastian finished stripping the boy of the garment. He shivered as he felt the cold air hit his legs.

Sebastian laughed at that reaction and Ciel sent him one of his "I'm going to kill you" looks.

The brunette made a tour with his tongue, going through his neck - bothering him until he could get all the moans he wanted - going through the nipples. His tongue licked and bit one of them while his hand took care of teasing the entire chest area.

"Sebastian that... That feels good," she groaned as her head fell onto the mattress.

"And it's going to get better," he said with a tone that made Ciel blush even more, if that was possible.

He lowered his hand to the boy's crotch and began to touch him with some reserve, which made Ciel frustrated. He knew what the man wanted him to do, but he wasn't going to beg, he wasn't going to do it under any criteria...

— Ah! Sebastian! He groaned as the man fully grasped the length of him with his hand and began nibbling at the skin on his lower belly.

— Does my Ciel like what I'm doing to him? she asked lewdly as she tightened her hold on her and began pumping slowly, up and down.

"You're a looooong…" he claimed as he sat up and looked Sebastian in the eye. It licked all over his skin. Feeling it was one thing, but seeing Sebastián in those tasks was, without a doubt, the most erotic thing she could witness in his life. He was about to order her to move his hand faster, because the idiot wouldn't let him just like that, when the man clucked his tongue and climbed up to his ear.

"Don't worry, Ciel , I'll give you what you want," he said before he started pumping quickly, making Ciel see stars.

Her whole body felt on fire, and she wanted to break free at that moment. His hips moved without his will, yearning for more and more of that contact that until moments before Sebastian had denied him.

The man in question needed to bite his lip at his master's adorable reaction. See how she moaned, how she writhed beneath him. The curses that dirty little mouth uttered. It was certainly a sight, she thought as she licked her lips.

The boy was really close. He held onto the shoulders of his ever-loyal butler. Everything was so intense and incredible that the world seemed to shine, each sensation was amplified a million, and in the middle of all that, Sebastian. It didn't take long for him to come and fall agitated on the bed.

Sebastian pushed himself up and stared at the panting youth beneath him for a moment. The boy was smiling in the post-orgasmic haze, as he brought his hand to his face.

- That was…-. She needed to show him how much she liked him. She made a move to get up, but only managed to pull Sebastian on top of him and kiss him.

Sebastian started stroking his hair and Ciel seemed to be about to fall asleep. He bit his lip as he tried to stop thinking about the erection between her legs.

Ciel was exhausted, and he couldn't force him to continue. He didn't want to anyway, he was satisfied that he had pleased his master in such a way. He got up regretfully as he went to pick up his clothes when Ciel grabbed him around the waist.

"Where… where are you going?" she asked shyly. She looked down at the crotch of his demon, and saw her erection under the fabric of his pants. Her eyes widened in surprise. You haven't...I haven't done anything with you and I...

"You shouldn't worry about that, young master, I'll be fine," he said as he kissed his forehead. Ciel closed his eyes, dazed, but before Sebastian got up he threw him on the bed.

"That's not right, Sebastian. I won't let you think I'm useless. Let me…let me help you with that. He looked away from him and began to unbutton the man's pants.

Sebastian was about to stop his master, when he completely lowered his underwear and began to pump his member rapidly.

"Besides, I told you to call me Ciel."

"Okay... Ciel," Sebastian said in a grave and hoarse tone as he tried to control the movements of his hips.

Ciel grabbed the member with both hands. It's big, he thought to himself. He licked his lips unconsciously, and started running his fingers over the tip, listening in glory as Sebastian moaned at his actions.

The boy was inexperienced and messy. He acted on instinct, not sure what to do, but wanting to give her as much pleasure as he could. Sebastian was touched by that as they had no idea. No one had ever been so… considerate of him.

They pleased him, just to please themselves with his body, and then when they were done with him, they would send him out of his room, not caring about his feelings because, ohh, he was a demon and he didn't. He had never given much importance to it, sex had never been something he had given importance to. If Ciel didn't want to continue, he wasn't going to force him, she would remove his erection with cold water, or wait for her to go down on her own...

But as always, Ciel acted beyond what he expected. There he was, in his inexperience, biting his lips, trying to give her pleasure. It was Ciel, who leaned down and was giving him tender and shy kisses on his chest. It was Ciel, the one who was worrying about his pleasure.

It was Ciel, the one who made him finish, because everything was fucking intense, and boy did he love that boy.

It ended up in the boy's hand, who looked at the semen with surprise and some curiosity, while he gasped and lay on the bed.

"Did you… did you like it?" Hmm, did I do it right? Ciel asked shyly as he lay down on his butler's chest.

"As always, Ciel, you exceeded my expectations," he said before starting to caress her hair.

"You're an idiot, Sebastian," he said as he felt his ears redden.

Sebastian laughed out loud and, when he tried to get up, Ciel caught him with his arms.

"I want you to sleep with me tonight." It was an order, but it sounded like a request. Ciel looked away and Sebastian caressed his cheeks.

— I was going to clean us up so we wouldn't sleep like this, Ciel.

— So… so yes. — Ciel crossed his arms and let the butler sit up. The man looked for some cloths and cleaned him gently, touching places he shouldn't, tickling Ciel. He was passing out from exhaustion, but he wanted to make sure that he would spend the night by his side.

When he finished cleaning, he lay down on the mattress again and the boy immediately pulled him to his body and covered them under the sheet.

"Someone is anxious..." he said as he took her by the waist.

"Shut up, I told you," he answered as he buried his nose in her neck and sniffed that rich essence... it smelled like apple, like the forbidden fruit.

Sebastian watched the boy sniff his neck and chuckled internally. The young man fell asleep shortly after and Sebastian spent a while looking at him...

Maybe he would sleep tonight, being by Ciel's side was so warm and sweet that it made him want to sleep by his side, although spending the night looking at his cute little face was also very tempting.

And well , Ciel would think the next day, now I don't feel so bad about this day.

It seems that Lizzy was right that something would make Ciel happy on that February 14th.

-.-.-.-

-.-.-

-.-

A/N: I love it when Ciel is playful, but at the same time shy. And I love when Sebastian cares about Ciel's well-being, I don't know what the obsession is to put a Sebastian hurting Ciel. He sometimes lets them hurt him, but when he knows there is no real danger, Sebastian would never really let Ciel suffer. Not for him... what happens is that Sebas is something of a sadist, but he does care about the cute count. :3

As for the aforementioned dessert, look for it, just seeing it provoked me, it's a sponge cake soaked in syrup, and it's a typical English dessert. ;3

I urge you to read Ertal77's fic, Valentine's Day at the Phantomhive mansion , it's simply beautiful. Thanks for the beteo girl. ;)

Thaks everyone for reading. If you want more fics like these (with a weird plot and taken from the fifth hell) you know that you have to encourage me with your beautiful words made review. ;)

See you. ;)

[elenatria]

Idk why I don't like thor treating loki like trash. Unless it's a kink of loki's then who am I to kinkshame a god. But thor being unkind to loki and all that name calling is a put off for me. Like treating loki like he's not good enough to love. I like it better when they bicker. Or have consensual hardcore hate sex or thor reverently kisses loki from the tip of his nose to the tip of his toes. What say?

Hi, could you be more specific? Which name calling? You mean in “Ragnarok”, or in people’s fics/posts/headcanons? If you mean mine or other people’s posts, fics and headcanons please anon ask me again about it with details and totally ignore this post. I’ll put it under a cut because it might be off topic, it’s about Thor and Loki’s behaviour in the films.

As for unkind, that’s a looooooong discussion. If you’re interested in hearing Loki’s part in Thor’s behaviour and his responsibilities I can write an essay lol.

If you think Loki is 100% guiltless maybe this is not the post for you, so please don’t read on. You’ve been warned! (that goes to everyone who’s not into that kind of of stuff.)

First of all, I hate to have to compare the two and try to find out “who started it”, “whose fault is it”, or just say “but the other one is being mean too”. Thor is supposedly “the older brother” and “the hero” and for some reason we all expect him to tolerate Loki’s weaknesses (and Loki does have some). Because Thor is “the nice guy”.

Well he isn’t. Not anymore anyway.

Unfortunately that’s how it goes with Thor and Loki, it’s a “which came first the chicken or the egg” thing and it’s endless. Thor was an immature jerk in the first “Thor” so… for some people it was a “good thing that Loki prevented him from becoming king so early”. 

Well that wasn’t Loki’s intention, was it? To “make Thor a better ruler”. It was an accident. Loki’s intention was to ruin his brother’s big day because he was jealous all along. What did Thor do to him to cause this jealousy? Well he was being Thor, the favoured son, and Loki was being Loki even BEFORE he knew he was adapted. There’s always rivalry between siblings so there goes the first argument. I’m happy knowing Loki is a trickster by nature and they’re both jerks and that’s that. Besides Loki said it himself, he didn’t want the throne, he wanted to be treated as an equal by their father. Was that Thor’s fault? Dunno. It sure had some grave repercussions on Thor: he lost his brother, literally and metaphorically.

Then we have New York. Some say it was Thanos’ and the Chitauri’s fault, Loki’s torture and the brainwashing. So Loki’s beautiful full-tilt diva act in Stuttgart was none of his doing? All that was just Thanos’ puppeteering? Loki had no involvement in it? How about his desire to be a god, a ruler, to be accepted, to conquer a world? Remember he doesn’t take for granted he’ll have a kingdom to rule (like Thor has Asgard) so he chooses Earth. His allies/tormentors helped him made that choice, but he still had a part in it.

Now see it from a New Yorker’s point of view. I imagine Marvel meant to show the whole New York battle as a kind of comfort for the New York people suffering 9/11. When it happened in 2001 no “New York” song would play on the radio and the Twin Towers were edited out of movies like Tobey Maguire’s “Spiderman”. It was a wound and it was massive and took ages to heal. Fast forward to 2012, 11 years after the attack on the Twin Towers and the wounds of the U.S. citizens were still fresh. So I can only imagine kids who weren’t around to witness 9/11 but heard it from their parents, or even the U.S. citizens themselves, felt some kind of gratification (if only a Hollywood-induced one) that… somewhere, somehow, in some parallel universe the war criminals who attacked their beautiful city, their home, got some kind of retribution: a nice beating from the Hulk, a muzzle and a golden cell in Asgard. 

Imagine all those people, all those New Yorkers, represented by one person alone: Jane Foster. Now imagine the man who loves her, Thor, and how he felt about it. So now you understand Jane’s slapping. “That was for New York”? Better “That was for the Twin Towers, bitch.” I’m sure that’s how many people felt although I dislike Jane greatly and hated her slapping Loki because it was bad taste, it looked SO bad, so tacky, so… girly. A stupid butthurt bitchslap.

So when Thor goes to Loki’s cell and “doesn’t let Loki mourn their mother” it’s because he’s still pissed, and he thinks he’s doing the right thing, having his brother locked up. I didn’t like Thor telling Loki “yes I need your help but you’ll go back to your cell after that” but whatever. Thor is cruel sometimes, he’s not perfect.

As for “Ragnarok”, Thor has come to a point where he’s had enough of Loki’s bullshit. Loki has lied to him several times (sometimes for no apparent reason), he has mocked his feelings (”Did you mourn?”) and refuses to remember the past being all fun and games. Sure Thor loved spending that time with his brother but that’s not Loki’s past, that’s not how he remembers it. After doing Thor’s bidding and following his brother in any silly adventure he chose, Loki decided to leave his own mark in the world. It just wasn’t exactly the right path. He destroyed a whole city in the process.

Then of course he faked his own death and let Thor mourn him once more. He banished their father because yeah, he’s Loki, he’s a trickster. And as a ruler he “directed most of his energies into narcissistic self-glorification and not so much time on good governance” (Tom’s words at the SDCC panel).

Now let’s go to Thor’s unkindness and name calling in “Ragnarok”. Thor calling out Loki on his past deeds in that cell was long overdue imho. Thor is done crying for him, putting up with his whims, forgiving him, letting him off the hook. Because every time Thor did that Loki tricked or betrayed him. I cannot blame Loki for faking his death in “The Dark World”, after all this was the only way to escape Thor and that cell. But the rest is all on him I’m afraid. What do I blame? What Loki said, lack of communication between the brothers. 

So far the only name-calling I’ve noticed from Thor’s part is him trying to lie about Bruce turning into the Hulk and saying to Valkyrie “There’s no beast, (Loki) is just being stupid”.

Again, I hope this wasn’t off topic. Feel free to ask me again with details!