#greylizzy

[arikittenart]

I finally drew my favorite kuro crackship!

I imagine these two constantly tease eachother like children---

CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY BECAUSE TUMBLR HATES ME

[yamabukizero]

【格伊】一只杯子

文/山吹

他又看到伊丽莎白在擦拭那只杯子了。

格雷实在是搞不明白，到底有什么每日清洁的必要。她从不用那只杯子待客或是喝茶，几乎只是把它当作一件艺术品一样，摆在深色的橱柜里。

他不是不知道她有喜欢收集杯子的癖好，他对于这种小小的收集癖并没有半点不满意。其实，这样小女孩子一样的纯粹少女情怀一定程度上让他觉得她更加有趣。

只不过这只杯子有些不一样。

说来这只杯子与世界上成千上万的杯子并没有什么不同，花纹也是极为普通的红色碎花和金色勾边样式，但是伊丽莎白好像格外偏爱它，每天都将它擦得锃亮。乳白色的杯沿反射着润泽温软的光。不得不说，有的时候格雷回到家看到橱柜里漂亮的温润光泽，也会庆幸「家」的存在。

格雷曾经也问过伊丽莎白这只杯子到底有什么不一样。伊丽莎白也很大方地告诉他这只杯子是十四岁的时候来自夏尔的礼物。

大概是年少不知世事，对于喜爱的少年的一切都予以接纳并为之兴高采烈。淡漠的未婚夫的一个小小的礼物，就足够令她欣喜不已。珍惜夏尔给她的东西，好像已���成为一种习惯。

……又是他。

伊丽莎白终于放下手上的绢布，将杯子小心翼翼地放回橱柜里层。杯子搁在托盘上的一瞬间发出轻微的脆响。

见她还是愣愣地站在那里瞧，格雷不耐地抽出佩剑点了点伊丽莎白的肩膀，挑起她垂在肩上的一缕头发。

「这么喜欢这只杯子？」

伊丽莎白拨开自己的头发撩到背后，转过身来用手指轻轻挑起剑锋的尖端，语气之中是掩饰不住的调皮的笑意。

「格雷伯爵不是一样吗，从来都是剑不离身呢。」

结婚之后她极少这么称呼他，除了偶尔心情好开开他的玩笑，或者对他生气的时候。格雷看见伊丽莎白触碰到闪着寒光的剑锋的莹白手指，还是皱着眉头极迅速地收回了剑。

伊丽莎白的眼珠转了转，看着格雷笑，目光狡黠像只小狐狸似的。

「你说你害怕剑无法砍到的东西？」

「……是，怎么？」格雷不知道为什么伊丽莎白突然谈起这个话题。

「那你应该怕我才对。」

「为什么？」

「因为你的剑……」伊丽莎白眨着眼睛冲着他笑。「永远也无法刺中我。」

「哦？这么骄傲吗，我的小女孩。」

刚刚才入鞘的剑又被抽出来，伊丽莎白一直极少向他挑衅。格雷对她扬起眉毛，眼里闪着兴奋又高傲的光。

格雷看着她，那样轻佻恶劣的笑容又回归到他的脸上。格雷的剑指向伊丽莎白的眼睛，他速度极快，可是伊丽莎白只是站在那里，并没有躲避的意思。

意料之中，在快要刺中她的时候格雷的剑锋一转，擦着她的侧耳停在半空中。剑锋破开空气带起的风落在她的头发上。

「不是骄傲。」伊丽莎白微微偏过脸，似笑非笑的眼神似是无意地飘过他的剑。「我知道，你的剑砍不到我的，因为你不会愿意的，你下不了手。」

半响，格雷突然轻笑出声。

「你说得对。」格雷的手腕侧了侧，身体微微前倾，将佩剑伸向她身后橱柜的方向。「对你，的确下不了手。」

但是……

格雷用佩剑的尖端挑起刚刚被伊丽莎白放置好的茶杯的杯柄，将它勾到自己面前。他百无聊赖地旋转着剑柄，看着茶杯在剑上转了几个圈。然后手腕一倾。

啪。

「啊，真不好意思。」

精致瓷杯在地上碎成一颗星��开的样子，细碎的白色星屑飞得老远。

格雷拾起一只碎片，故作可惜地用指腹轻抚，假意叹了口气，眼里却写满了「好家伙，终于消失在我眼前了」。

格雷承认他的确是故意的，他就是看不惯那只杯子，很久了。

明明年长她十岁，可是有时候却又比她更像小孩子，伊丽莎白叹了口气，也像看小孩子一样无奈地笑他。

「注意别伤了手。」

然后她伸手取走了他手上的碎片，看也没看一眼地扔在了地上那一堆碎片之中，顺便招呼着宝拉过来清理。从头到尾都没有生气的意思。

「没事，只是一只杯子。」

「只是一只杯子而已？」

很奇怪，她曾经捧着这只精致的瓷杯小心翼翼，当做珍宝，甚至每天的擦拭清洁都是她亲自做的。可是真当这杯子破碎成片，她却不觉得多难过，��是有点可惜。

多好看的杯子啊，就像她美好的第一次恋爱。

「对，只是一只杯子而已。不过，格雷伯爵愿意赔偿我的话，我也会非常高兴的。」

她朝他走过去，靠在他的胸口看着他笑。

碎掉的杯子已经毫无意义，就像明明知道没有结果的年轻的爱恋。但是好在伊丽莎白看得开也拎得清，毅然决然地向少女过往的恋心挥手告别，然后转头飞快地奔向他的怀里。

那里是她的未来。

「新杯子好看吗？」

「好看。不过，也只是一只杯子而已。」伊丽莎白咯咯笑着窝进他的怀里，仰起头，带着红茶香气的柔软嘴唇亲吻了他的下颚。

FIN.

小剧场

真的只不过是一只杯子而已吗……

格雷撑着脑袋，看着还在壁橱前捧着崭新茶杯端详得入神的伊丽莎白。

「……利兹，该睡觉了。」

……没人理。

格雷终于起身绕到伊丽莎白身后，几乎是咬着牙从齿缝里挤出一句话。

「有的时候还是下得了手的。」

伊丽莎白这话听得莫名其妙，却在身体腾空而起的那一刻看见他漂亮的眼睛和压下的嘴唇。

[queencamellia]

“Looks like we’re outnumbered.” 

“So we are.”

“Scared, Midford?” he challenged, unsheathing his sword.

She tossed him an uncharacteristically daring smirk, her heart thrumming loudly in anticipation. “Not a chance.”

Commissioned this GreyLizzy piece from fokkusu.art! Definitely one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time.

(tagging @cielizzydefencesquad​ because I need greylizzy companions to swoon over this piece with please)

[cielizzydefencesquad]

Confession: I always loved Lizzy and Ciel, but I never cared much for Charles Grey until I read your greylizzy content and now I love him :)

LOOK @queencamellia ANOTHER GREYLIZZY SHIPPER ABOARD OUR SILVER CAROUSEL OF HAPPINESS xD 

They are a rather hypnotic pairing aren’t they? Passionate, sharp-tongued, almost bluntly honest Grey and our sunshine princess Lizzy who can give as good as she’s got - I love this pairing because I feel like they’d be so unrestrained around each other. Lizzy’s known Grey since she was what, 8? 9? They go to the same arena (if Campania’s flashbacks are anything to go by) and knowing Grey’s pride and arrogance, he probably walked right up to Lizzy and demanded a duel to “assess” her skills. 

Cue Grey being all “how did a shrimp like you even gain entry into a club like this? You really that good or did you father buy your way in?” 

And Lizzy smiling as sweet as spun sugar and replying “Shall we make a game of it, Lord Grey? I’m not much of a gambler but I rather like my odds.” 

And that’s when Grey sees that her eyes aren’t merely green - they burn, with emerald fire and a strange sort of amused curiosity that Grey’s never seen on an English lady before.

He smirks. “Gambling huh? I have to tell you Midford, I make my own luck.” 

“Do you?” She grins. “Then you must not have much.” 

And then she strikes - giving Grey just enough time to huff a silent laugh and wonder if she’ll be back in the arena tomorrow. 

I am literally 99.9% sure that’s how their first meeting went, with their duel resulting in a tie - shocking the hell out of Grey because what the actual fuck, he hasn’t tied with anyone since he was ten freaking years old and - 

She’s good. Like, really good - and Grey is determined to defeat her, just once. So they keep meeting up and dueling, Grey smirking and taunting her with a gleam in his eyes and Lizzy laughing and teasing him right back.

And soon Grey’s taunts lose their edge and Lizzy no longer fights like she has something to prove. They gain a strange respect for one another and neither knows how this weekly battle of swords and words became something of a friendship for the two of them. 

But it’s on Lizzy’s seventeenth birthday that Grey really, truly notices her. And dear god - she’s beautiful. 

It’s a horrifying thought because she’s supposed to be “just Midford” - the cheeky, bright-eyed girl he duels two or three times a week. And who sometimes joins him while he’s training. “Just Midford.” The girl he sometimes sees at her majesty’s court, when Midford tags along with her father or mother. And sure Lizzy might be the only girl who’s not openly insulted when he makes a quip here or there, who’ll actually join in on his ridiculous jokes and laugh at his bizarre observations without thinking him uncouth or boorish. 

But really, who cares if she can make him laugh (and not the sardonic, bitter laugh that he’s learned to adopt - the real, genuine laugh that stems from pure and simple joy). Who cares. 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t care that she knows all his secrets, that she can understand him without trying, that she’ll never judge or lecture or think him mad. (And even then Grey feels this odd need to impress her, to try and do better - to make an effort.) 

It’s on Lizzy’s seventeenth birthday that Charles Grey undergoes a revelation and makes a silent, unwavering vow. 

He’ll prove himself worthy - he will. Because even though she’s a knight and a genius with the sword, even though she needs no protection, he wants to fight for her. (Because deep down he knows, it’s her. It’s always been her - and no one else.) 

Ahh thank you so much for letting me ramble away on this ask Anon, I’m so sorry for this jumble of word vomit but this crack!ship got me feelin some type of way xD

Thanks so much for stopping by! 

- mod Nina 

[yelenawithaj]

Inktober day 6- Sword As usual, the black pen is slacking so I couldn't make it black and white, but it's pretty anyway. I thought about mods of @cielizzydefencesquad while drawing so this is a present for you two

[arikittenart]

my first attempt at drawing this homicidal sexy bastard 😎🤘🏼

click or better quality :)

[yamabukizero]

【格伊】泥

文/山吹

>>> 0

十三四岁的女孩子哪里懂爱情。

有未婚夫之后尤是如此。

>>> 1

格雷从凡多姆海威后院院墙上翻越进来的时候，看到一层的玻璃窗子透出摇曳跳动的光，晃得格雷眯了眯眼。

“那是什么？这小鬼家什么时候养了颗太阳。”格雷将手背在脑后，说着莫名其妙的话，回头看了看身后的菲普斯。

“据我所知好像并没有这回事，兴许是客人。”

真可惜啊，这小鬼又不在。

格雷还是选择从后厨走，其实他只是想也许凡多姆海威家又可以吃到什么甜点。

“好久不见！”

巴鲁多警惕地看着查尔斯格雷，虽然他已经不是第一次这样突兀地出现在凡多姆海威宅邸了，可谁也不知道他又会搞出什么名堂。不过今天查尔斯格雷好像并没有做出什么让凡多姆海威家的佣人头疼的事。

如果他没有顺走桌上的那只甜点的话。

“诶——是查佛诶，菲普斯。只有一个，我就先享用了！”

“诶等等不行，那是伊丽莎白小姐做给主人的！”

不，果然还是干出了让人头疼的事啊。

格雷眼神暗了暗，那就是说，伊丽莎白米多福特也在这里。

他其实从来没刻意去注意这个小姑娘，格雷与伊丽莎白的交集仅仅在他们小时候的剑道场，说是交集也并不准确，他们其实根本就没有说过话。后来格雷对这个姑娘的所有印象，也都是与凡多姆海威伯爵相关。毕竟凡多姆海威伯爵在场的时候，她极少时候不是缠在他身边的。金色的她，太亮了，太亮了，那是与伯爵本人格格不入的一束光。格雷原本也只是觉得这两个人完全不搭，但是毕竟是女王的指婚，他也没什么可说的。他突然想到她的金发，像会发���一样，也许那就是他翻过院墙时的那道光吧。

今天凡多姆海威伯爵不在，那么，他是不是终于有机会可以好好跟她比一场了？

格雷暗里有些兴奋，像是没听见梅琳的话一样，自顾自地拿起蛋糕走到会客厅。

“菲普斯，我去转转。”

“动静不要闹太大。”

“知道了。”

>>> 2

格雷在庄园的前院见到了伊丽莎白。金色的头发和亮色的小洋裙，就和以前一样，可跟平时在伯爵身边见到的她又不太一样。格���见到的她是跪在地上的，安静的，同样是虔诚的，如果不是她有着轻微动作的手，格雷甚至以为她已经在太阳下睡着了。

伊丽莎白跪在地上，拿着手帕轻轻擦去叶片上的泥尘。她低下的头和落在她垂下的眼睫上的光，让她看上去更像是太阳的女儿。

那株蔷薇非常漂亮，枝茎要比一般的蔷薇更粗壮一些，不难看出它的主人将它照顾得非常不错。

“这株蔷薇长得真好呢，小姐。”

“啊，是的。”

伊丽莎白仰起脸，对着宝拉微笑。

伦敦的天空永远是灰白一片的，偶尔会有太阳穿过云层来到人间。但是她却永远在这片灰色里拥有独自的色彩，闪烁着与阴暗晦涩格格不入的，却又隐约悲伤着的一束光。

“你在做什么呢？”

伊丽莎白回头，看到了格雷伯爵，还有他手上的查佛蛋糕。

“等等，小姐，那是...”宝拉有些不知所措地看着伊丽莎白。

“味道还挺不错，再放凉一些也许会更好。”格雷朝伊丽莎白扬了扬眉毛，很明显是故意的。

“感谢您的夸奖，格雷伯爵。”伊丽莎白起身对他行了一礼。出乎意料地，她看上去并没有生气，即使这个点心是做给她亲爱的未婚夫的，现在却在他的嘴里。

“宝拉，走吧。”

伊丽莎白跟格雷平时见到的完全不一样，她依然是笑着的，却是淡漠的，疏离的，与那个跟在伯爵身边叽叽喳喳地叫着“夏尔夏尔”的孩子完全不一样。格雷突然想到她小时候，那时夏尔不在她身边，她就永远是安静的，乖巧的，优雅的，即使她在剑术比赛上大获全胜，也从不见她多么喜悦的样子。

“你刚刚在做什么。”他又问了一遍。

“我在种一株蔷薇。”

“哦，为谁而种呢？那个小鬼？”

这不是很显然的吗，在伯爵的庄园里种的蔷薇，自然是为了伯爵。

“啊，果然啊，为了你的小未婚夫。”

这个女孩子的手，能捧得了花，也能握得住剑。

他想起刚刚伊丽莎白抚摸着蔷薇叶的手指，那是被称作“天才”的人的手，那是能握得住剑的手。

格雷突然感到烦躁，明明是人人称赞的剑术天才，明明将这个称号生生从他的身上抢夺过来，却好像丝毫不在意一样，这样的态度实在是令人恼火。却又没有发火的理由。

他已经看够她捧着花的样子了。他有些好奇，这样的她会被激怒吗，如果被激怒的话，剑术的天才会是什么反应。

甜点没了可以重新做，可是她好像格外偏爱这株蔷薇。

>>> 3

格雷抽出剑刺向那朵就快要开花的蔷薇，剑锋破开风，擦过她金色的发丝。

当连带着半开的白色花朵的蔷薇枝茎折断落在地上的时候，伊丽莎白感觉到有什么冰冷的东西贴在她的侧颈。

那是一只剑。

“格雷伯爵，擅自在他人的庭院里比剑，是不是太过失礼了？”

伊丽莎白没有回头看他，只是弯下腰捡起了那支蔷薇。白色的花瓣和枝叶上全都沾上了泥，可是她却心里一动，伊丽莎白感觉它还活着，它还在继续生长着，甚至就快要盛开在自己的手心里。

格雷知道她没有剑，也知道这么做不公平，可是他就是控制不住地将自己的剑指向她。

格雷的速度很快，伊丽莎白想过会很快，可她还是没想到居然这么快。伊丽莎白在他刺向她的每一剑都躲得吃力，而格雷却凭借他的速度游刃有余。

手中握着的蔷薇的刺终于刺进她的手心里。

格雷似乎听见破空的声音，感觉到伊丽莎白的头发顺着风擦过自己的嘴唇。他一侧的脸上已经渗出红色。那是一枝蔷薇的枝茎，却更像是一只剑，或者说，在伊丽莎白的手中，什么都可以成为一只剑。

啊，那么，她手中应当握住的是剑还是花已经不重要了，她可以成为剑，也可以成为花。

非常好，这才是一位真正的剑士。她不以剑的存在而存在，但是剑却以她的存在而存在。

伊丽莎白握着被格雷砍下的蔷薇枝茎，因为太过用力，白嫩的手心已经被刺得鲜血淋漓，已经有血顺着绿色的枝茎落下来。

在伊丽莎白突然出现在他眼前的那一刻，他的眼睛似乎被阳光下金光闪闪的她完全占据。血液沿着伤口和脸部的轮廓流下来，格雷却像是毫无感觉似的。尽管到最后他依然完全占据上风，甚至将伊丽莎白逼到墙角，长剑架在她如花瓣一般白净柔美的颈子上，格雷依然觉得自己输给了她。像是被一束光刺穿了心脏一样，他有一瞬间脑子嗡嗡作响。他被击中了。

格雷收起剑向后退了一步，看着尚未站稳的伊丽莎白，她漂亮的小洋鞋陷进雨后过于泥泞的的潮湿土地。

“哎呀，真是糟糕啊，对吗，伊丽莎白小姐？”

格雷眯着眼睛轻笑了一声，像是在嘲弄她。

伊丽莎白没看他，只是将手伸向宝拉。

显然格雷的手更快，他的手绕过她的后背与膝弯，将她一把横抱起来。伊丽莎白的侧脸贴近了格雷的胸膛。

“请...请放我下来，格雷伯爵！”

伊丽莎白的双手反射性地搂住他的脖子，突然腾空的虚空感和意料之外的紧张使她蜷在他怀里轻微颤抖。

“泥泞的路并不是那么好走，小姐。”

伊丽莎白抬头看他，查尔斯格雷拥有一双颜色罕见的眼睛。可是除去那漂亮的颜色之外，他的眼睛太暗了，太暗了，伊丽莎白甚至无法从中看到高光，可那的确是永远包含笑意的一双眼睛。

查尔斯格雷眼睛的颜色其实非常容易让人联想到伦敦的天空，就像现在一样，落雨之后少有的晴日。伦敦是不会有绝对湛蓝的天空的，这种能够从云雾里透出的蓝，已经是最极致的美丽了。可是伊丽莎白却想到泥。

清浅河流之下沉淀着的，厚重的，黏着的，难以跋足的淤泥。

为什么会想到泥呢？那与高远天空截然不同的，甚至是对立的，混浊的泥。

泥泞的路并不是那么好走。她又想到这句话。

>>> 4

只是毫无预兆地，他低头亲吻了她的额头。也许不是毫无预兆地，他其实早就想这么做了，在很久以前。久到他在剑术训练场看见她挥舞着双剑的时候。

最吸引格雷的并不是她挥舞着剑的双手，而是伊丽莎白飞扬的金色头发和练习完之后汗涔涔的额头。剑道场馆灰色的阴影里，每当她走到透着光的玻璃窗下，金浅发丝和晶莹汗水反射的光线便将她整个人包裹起来。她在发光。伊丽莎白拾起双剑，仰起下颚的时候，就像是一个金光闪闪的战神一样。也许这样形容会很好笑，但是那时格雷真的这样想。他也曾经感到奇怪，他一直想要打败她，而事实上，因为极高的天赋和年龄的优势，他的能力本就在她之上，可他依旧在心里给伊丽莎白留下了极高的评价，即使他并不愿意，也常用厌恶与极其不爽的表情来掩盖。可是这就是真的。格雷是看得出伊丽莎白挥剑时酣畅淋漓的表情的，即使她那么悲伤，他也看得出来她对剑术压抑着的热情。格雷知道，他看得到她仰起的下颚漂亮的弧线，和如同宝石一样闪闪发光的眼睛。她跟格雷本质上其实是非常相似的人。

格雷本不喜欢她后来如舞蹈一般的使剑方式，那太过保守，长裙旋转成春天盛开的一朵花，格雷更喜欢单刀直入的狂野。很显然，原本的伊丽莎白就是这样，所以他才会格外欣赏她。但是当她将女性的柔美融入刚硬的剑，格雷才更加意识到，伊丽莎白是个漂亮优雅的女孩子，而不只是一位剑士。

伊丽莎白骄傲，同时却谦卑。她被太阳偏爱。

如果金色的她飞向太阳，那么，他想。

那么，伊卡洛斯的羽翼将永不坠落。

伊丽莎白看着他的下颚线条，似乎能闻到之前她加到查佛里的樱桃果酱的味道。她感到脸部发烫，甚至有些心跳加速，她第一次与一个并不太相熟的异性贴得这么近。她被拥抱了，被亲吻了。格雷手指的温度似乎穿透裙子的布料传达到她的皮肤。伊丽莎白的心突然以一种不同寻常的频率跳了一下，就一下，却足以让她感到害怕。

格雷走上庭前干净的台阶上将她放下。伊丽莎白慌张地抽身，格雷却牵住她的手。

“非常抱歉，伊丽莎白小姐。”

格雷单膝跪下，握住伊丽莎白渗血的手。他抓住她的手指亲吻下去，然后又郑重地亲吻了伊丽莎白的手背。

伊丽莎白愣在原地。与刚才额头上的触感一模一样，赤裸的肌肤贴上柔软的嘴唇的感觉。伊丽莎白被轻轻握住的手指甚至完全无意识地钩住了格雷的指尖。更清晰地触碰到他的温度之后，伊丽莎白被自己不自知的动作吓了一大跳，后知后觉地想将手抽出来，却对上了他蕴含深沉笑意的眼睛，泥一样的。

她看着他的眼睛，感觉自己摇摇欲坠。

在伊丽莎白和格雷都未察觉到的时候，菲普斯却突然出现在前院，并告知格雷女王陛下突然传唤的消息，今天与凡多姆海威伯爵商谈的事要暂时放下。

格雷转过头，手指似是无意的轻抚过她指间的伤口。

“那么，就此告辞了，伊丽莎白小姐。”

>>> 5

伊丽莎白在夏尔回来之前就匆忙赶回了家。她已经没有办法再等下去，即使梅琳告诉她伯爵很快就会回来，可是她已经不知道该以怎样的表情面对自己的小未婚夫。除了与她亲近的长辈，她从来没有与这样一位男性有过这么亲密的接触。可是那些亲吻和拥抱，全都不是来自于他。

伊丽莎白坐在自己的房间里，感觉手指和额头还在微微发烫。

在之后的很多天里，她的手指都在发热发烫。被亲吻过的地方，明明没有任何伤口，却像是被红铁打上了烙印，灼热得疼痛。

伊丽莎白看见窗子外无边际的，巨大得远超出自己认知的灰蓝天空，泥一样的天空，与他的眼睛无比相似的天空。蓝色的天像是要坠落下来，将她整个人都包裹吞噬。天光从玻璃窗口照进来，她内心里不可能也不应该存在的情感被完全照亮，被光亮剜开的跳动的心脏，赤裸地活生生地被展现在人们面前。

伊丽莎白飞扑过去将厚重的窗帘拉上，直到将窗户遮得严严实实。整个房间都暗下来，像是被掩埋在泥之下。伊丽莎白颓然地坐在窗帘下呆滞了半天，突然揪住自己的胸口大哭起来，连呼吸都觉得困难，她感觉就要在泥潭里窒息死去。

>>> 5.5

她终于愿意承认。

她想，夏尔庄园里的那朵蔷薇花，大抵是已经死了吧。

>>> 6

格雷带走了那一枝白蔷薇。那是多么罪孽的一枝白蔷薇啊，明明纯净得不得了，却沾上了血液和泥。

>>> 7

格雷的情感来得很快，猛烈又迅速，快到他自己都来不及意识到。他自己也不知道怎么回事，一股横冲直撞的感情冲击着他的心肺。查尔斯格雷除了对女王有着绝对忠诚之外，他没有爱过什么人，但是他知道那是爱。可是为什么？难道仅仅是因为她做的可口的甜点吗？还是因为她握住剑的双手？

格雷有些想不明白，直到他看到书桌瓶中的那枝蔷薇。

当他看到那枝花格雷才意识到，不，都不是。不是因为“与伊丽莎白有关的东西”，而是因为“伊丽莎白”。

即使他们的交集并不多，可是这又能成为什么理由呢？所有的心动都只在一瞬间而已，可到底是哪个瞬间，并不是那么重要。

格雷其实打心底地讨厌凡多姆海威伯爵，甚至是厌恶，甚至是嫉妒。要说他原来只是轻视这个如此年轻的女王的走狗而无意识地捉弄他，现在他就是明面上的嫉妒让他想去找他麻烦。

因为没有人会为他种上一株花，用自己的眼泪和爱。格雷好像从没得到过。

可现在他却觉得那枝蔷薇本来就该是他的。

格雷想到他亲吻她的手指时她羞红的脸颊和他抱起她时两人几乎碰撞在一起的心脏。啊，那实在是非常可爱的，不是吗？

格雷伸手去触碰那几近枯萎的花，白色的花瓣已经被氧化成浅褐色，滴落的血液已然干涸，暗红的颜色与花瓣上原本沾上的的泥土无法分辨。这是最最圣洁的纯白，却最终成为了泥。

格雷突然笑起来。

>>> 7.5

其实那株蔷薇没能活多久。这不是当然的吗，只剩下潮湿腐烂的根部的蔷薇，哪里还能继续生长呢？

>>> 8

不久后查尔斯格雷在贵族们举办的上流舞会中又见到了伊丽莎白。她几乎还是寸步不离地黏在凡多姆海威伯爵身边，就像以前千百次那样，这让他觉得有些好笑。

他自然地走到他们面前打招呼，对着凡多姆海威伯爵说着往常那些讥讽的话，可是他的眼睛从来都只停留在伊丽莎白身上。伊丽莎白没有看他，可是格雷却看到她隐藏在裙子花饰下不自觉地挠着的右手，他突然什么都明白了。

伊丽莎白在后庭院遇到了格雷。或者说，格雷一开始就在这里等待着她。

这里只有他们两个人，她实在是没有办法跟格雷单独���在一起。格雷银白的头发总会让她想起那朵罪恶的蔷薇花。伊丽莎白有些心慌，微微倾了倾身便转身走向前庭。

一只剑突然拦在她面前。

“怎么，这么离不开你的小未婚夫吗？”

伊丽莎白几乎听出了一种玩味的嘲讽，她没有回答他，格雷也并没有等她说话。

“那么，你是爱他的吗？”

“是的，当然是。”

“是什么？你会说你爱他吗？”

伊丽莎白张了张嘴，却无论如何也说不出那句爱。她应该是爱着夏尔的，这是她从小到大都坚信着的，从未改变过的事。她从来没有想过伊丽莎白会不爱夏尔，她甚至想象不出不爱夏尔的伊丽莎白是什么样子的。可现在真正要说出爱的时候却再也无法如她所想那样毫无顾虑地表达出来。

的确是在意他的吧，她是他的未婚妻，她为他做的，为他改变的，甚至手中的剑，都是为他而紧握，因为是女王的番犬之妻，所以不可以不去做。

正因为如此，伊丽莎白是不可以不去爱夏尔的，米多福特小姐是不可以不去爱凡多姆海威伯爵的。

可是她说不出来，可是她就是说不出来。

伊丽莎白看见格雷嘴边勾起的愈发深意的笑容，更加局促不安起来。她不该在这里的，他也是，他们不该在这里的。伊丽莎白没有回答他，甚至没有礼节上的告别，只是侧过身子慌忙朝向大厅走去。可是格雷却收起佩剑向她靠近。伊丽莎白看着白色的他，她的心也变成污浊的泥，那株本该死在夏尔庭院里的蔷薇却在她的心里重新发芽生长。好像她心里的那朵蔷薇就要穿透她的心脏与胸膛，带着不可饶恕的罪恶又荒谬的爱意，绽放在格雷面前。

伊丽莎白随着格雷的前进慌忙向后退，当她的后背快要贴上墙壁的时候，眼前突然炫白一片。

那是一枝白色的蔷薇。

“非常抱歉之前折断了你的花，这算是补偿。”

那实在是太完美的一朵蔷薇，漂亮的花型，饱满的花心，白色花瓣上还有早晨新鲜的露水，像天使落下的眼泪。

伊丽莎白看着它，突然感到晃眼，甚至分不出那到底是白色的蔷薇还是白色的执事。

她又想到泥。

也许我迟早会溺死在白色的淤泥里。伊丽莎白甚至有些荒唐地想。

那就是对着她的眼睛倾泻而下的雪，伊丽莎白一瞬间好像失明了一样，却又像是被太阳的光击中，在一片眩晕中直直地倒下去。

格雷伸手接住她，顺手搂住了她的腰，将她拉向自己。

>>> 9

“我爱你。”

伊丽莎白听见格雷这么说。

“我也…”她几乎是无意识地开口回应，却在一瞬间意识到自己说出了多么不可原谅的话。她抬头又看见格雷的笑，像是势在必得的，又骄傲又恶劣。

她挣脱格雷的怀抱，垂下眼，整理了一下裙摆，然后摆正身姿，就像所有优雅的贵族淑女一样。

“啊，感谢您的花。”

伊丽莎白没有接过那枝蔷薇，只是提裙倾身向他行了一礼。

“我也，非常非常敬爱您。”

她还是尊敬地称呼他为伯爵，却再也不看他的眼睛。

>>> 9.5

“泥泞的路并不是那么好走，伯爵。”

离开之前，伊丽莎白没头没脑地抛出这么一句话。

>>> 10

格雷望着伊丽莎白跑向她的年轻未婚夫的背影，突然笑了一声。

“我就说她不懂爱情。”

FIN.

[queencamellia]

finally finished this new chapter after literally a year lmao + proofreading now 👌👌👌

[queencamellia]

I have too many unfinished greylizzy fics to wrap up, but (after a realization that I really haven’t been posting greylizzy content recently) I figured that I could post this preview ;)

Lizzy’s hand trembles as she raises her finger, prepared to identify the boy she once loved (and perhaps, the boy she still loves) as a liar.

Before she can, however, the doors of the manor shatter and Charles Grey bursts into the room in all his blustering, electrifying glory. His eyes sweep across their shell-shocked faces before finally brightening with recognition when he spots her.

“It’s about time I found you,” Grey remarks, voice coated with confidence nearly to the point of arrogance. His blunt words, as sharp as his blade, cut through the tense atmosphere. “Come on, Midford, Her Majesty needs you for a mission.”

She feels the weight of several pairs of eyes on her. Grey waits, unperturbed by the growing discomfort of her twin cousins. He doesn’t say a word, but his mouth is turned downwards in slight irritation, as if his patience is nearing its limit even though he has managed to turn her world upside-down in a matter of seconds. In all honesty, Lizzy thinks she might be in a state of shock: she can’t tear her eyes away from the broken doors, swinging precariously from the hinges and revealing the clear cerulean shade of the sky.

“And who might—”

“Ciel,” she cuts off the boy that she has reunited with (the boy who she was rightfully engaged to). Surprisingly, Lizzy’s voice sounds stronger, somehow revitalized now that her mind has an issue to latch onto. Although Charles Grey may seem lackadaisical, his prowess at the sword and admittedly formidable cunning make him a force to be reckoned with. Her cousin doesn’t know what challenging the silver-haired earl entails.

If she had been paying attention, she would’ve noticed the surprise flashing across both azure-eyed twins’ faces. Lizzy’s severe tone, after all, had sounded remarkably similar to her austere mother whenever she berated them in the past.

Lizzy, however, is not paying attention to the Ciels for once. Instead, she locks eyes with the earl who she has sparred with for hours upon hours that probably total to a couple thousands. Though they exchange plenty of banter between clashes and are on fairly amicable terms, Grey has never sought her out in such a manner before.

He had blatantly disapproved of her diffident nature—well, when it came to demonstrating her less feminine abilities, at least—but nevertheless, he still respected her enough to remain silent about her prowess, never spilling the secrets of their evening duels to her fiance despite his distaste for him.

It dawns on Lizzy that this may be something serious.

“Earl Grey,” she says slowly, testing the waters. “We are in the middle of something right now.”

Some intense emotions flickers in his eyes as he cocks an eyebrow. Suddenly, Lizzy remembers how Grey made a cursory scan of the room when he first entered; her fencing companion is not as simple as he pretends to be. Undoubtedly, he’s already gathered the gist of the situation.

“Ah, yes,” Grey replies with an almost bored drawl. He pretends to swoon melodramatically, earning a nearly imperceptible smile from Lizzy. “The Phantomhive soap opera—how dare I interrupt such an important matter? Come now, Midford. A younger brother scheming against the elder one...it’s a tale as old as the Greeks.”

Although she only sees Ciel’s reaction out of the corner of her eye, Lizzy is sure that the other occupants of the room are similarly bristling in fury at his nonchalant dismissal of their situation.

She stifles her smile, sombering. “Grey,” she starts, her formalities forgotten.

“This is a matter of national security, Midford,” he snaps. “International security, perhaps.”

Though Lizzy knows she has changed since she first found out The Truth (sometimes she even wonders if she is “Lizzy” anymore), this manner of tic-for-tac banter is comfortingly familiar. She props her hand against her hip, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, perfect. I’m not sure how that pertains to me, though—”

“Well, we’ve been monitoring the dual Phantomhive situation,” Grey interrupts with a sugary but fake grin, eliciting gasps from some of their listeners. He waves a hand dismissively. “Since Phantomhive screwed his brother over, yadda yadda yadda, but he also did some things, yadda yadda...well, essentially, Her Majesty is suspending both of the Phantomhive twins’ statuses as the incumbent Queen’s Watchdog until we sort out matters. Legalities, and all of that. As such, the role falls to you, next.”

Silence permeates the room.

[queencamellia]

(swoons) all the Kuro hcs that the lovely Mod Nina’s coming up with are inspiring me, so--

concept: post-Phantomhive-drama, several years after OC’s death, Lizzy pioneers the new co-gender program at Weston College alongside Sieglinde and proceeds to woo the entire student populace (males and females alike)

greylizzy hcs (because ya’ll know I would die for that ship): newly-made fencing instructor Charles Grey is not pleased with his new student’s insubordination (read: sass, because Lizzy had dueled with Grey when she was a wee teen and she’s not going to be afraid of him now), but grudgingly duels her nearly everyday (”to demonstrate proper technique,” he explains, casting a chilling glare at one of the clumsy boys in the back). he’s one of the few males who don’t look down on the newly-admitted female populace (for their gender, at least), which makes him super popular among the ladies (Lizzy is not jealous, dammit, it’s just annoying that their practice time is cut short for some girls to bat their eyes and simper coquettishly at a semi-amused, semi-annoyed earl).

sieglinde/lizzy: they’re the queens of the school and nobody is sure whether or not they’re gay for each other because they’re so, so intimate; if boys try to confess to Lizzy while Sieglinde is around...well, they don’t. and so Lizzy continues on her merry way, none the wiser, while Sieglinde sends them all a smug smirk as she trails after her.

also, upperclassman soma (probably in his last year or so of college): would 100% fight any guys who belittle the girls and literally whisk them away everywhere

alois (because I love this little shit): discovers that Lizzy Midford’s reactions are even better than the late Earl Phantomhive’s; proceeds to vie for her attention in classes like dancing; he, lizzy, and sieglinde become a study group; he and sieglinde also have a veryyyy friendly rivalry; he mellows out as time goes on; he also dislikes grey a lot; he and Lizzy become dancing partners because that must be a thing

[queencamellia]

Elizabeth Midford x Charles Grey (GreyLizzy) Aesthetic | Lizzy's Side

[queencamellia]

more secret agent!Kuroshitsuji

Just updated e v a n e s c e.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860913/chapters/33597834

Feel free to check it out! :)

Summary

Lizzy’s past has a habit of catching up to her.

Or: Two azure-eyed twins, one stubborn silver-haired assassin, and a very overprotective blonde hacker attempt to convince Ronald Knox’s best friend, Liz, to “come back” to them. Ronald and the Reapers are not amused.

[Secret Agent/Organization AU]

[queencamellia]

hanahaki!greylizzy fic

Yo yo I finally published it (and now I’m finally going back to that Lizzy!Disney AU idea I had back in January).

Dedicated to @pangeasexual​ and @your-lovers-and-drifters​, who introduced me to this ship that is still consuming my life oh my god how dare you

Ao3 Link Here!

Summary:

“I’ve always been your second option, haven’t I?”

His words strike her like lightning, and she’s unable to respond. He takes less than three seconds to examine her expression: after all, Lizzy has always worn her heart on her sleeve.

His lips curl upwards. “It’s okay,” he lies, “I understand.”

(He doesn’t come back next week. Or the following week. Or the next.) (She never knew she’d miss him so much.)

[Hanahaki Disease AU]

unformatted, nonitalicized version below if ya’ll lazy

p.s. Wrote it while listening to this song.

The Budding.

Elizabeth Midford storms into the dojo with an expression that screams murder. Tossing her bag to the side and whipping around to face him, she demands, “Match. Now.” Her expression, wrought with tumultuous emotions of pain and anger, makes several kendo practitioners give them a wide berth. A storm brews in her eyes.

Charles Grey, resident kendo prodigy, blinks in surprise before studying his fellow kendo genius. There’s a beat of silence, then he shrugs and tosses her a shinai. “Wanna put on our bougu first?���

She scowls, fierce and strong and utterly beautiful. If Midford’s smiles are the gentle rays of the Sun, then her scowls are from the fiery pits of hell. She’s fire, her every action and expression unexpected, quick, and exhilarating. She’s fire, beautiful from afar and alluringly dangerous when close. She’s fire, passionate and brilliant.

Well...if Elizabeth “Lizzy” Midford is fire, then Charles Grey is ice. He lunges forward and brandishes his sword with cool, slick elegance only attained with years of hard work. His silver eyes are cutting, perceptive, knowing as they begin to duel. Midford can be beautifully deadly at times, but it takes lots to work up her to this extent.

Undoubtedly, Phantomhive’s done something again.

It’s always Phantomhive, Grey muses bitterly, blocking her blow before pirouetting around. It takes Grey loads of jibes and insults to rile Midford this much, and the blue-haired brat probably didn’t have to work for it at all. Grey can make the golden-haired girl fight out of annoyance or competitiveness. He can’t make her fight out of anger and passion. He's just Grey, Midford's sparring partner and friend; although he already knows that Midford values Phantomhive more than him, the reminder stings.

Grey notices that her eyes are red and he scowls, doubling his efforts to gain a point. His movements are agile, his sword slicing through the air adeptly. Each blow is strategic: for all of his blustering and arrogance, Charles Grey is smart. More than that — he is perceptive, calculative, and ready to strike at any given moment. The tears glinting in her eyes spur him on.

It’s irritating, knowing that Phantomhive has enough influence over her to anger her to the point of tears.

They stop after thirty minutes of an intense back-and-forth battle, their foreheads glistening with sweat as they remove their stifling headgear. The other kendo practitioners swarm them, congratulating and praising them for their awe-inspiring duel; several girls attempt to talk to him, but Grey settles for a scowl that shuts them up. The majority of the girls attending the dojo came for whimsical, silly reasons like seeking love, and after his long string of victories in the previous kendo tournaments, he had become one of their prime targets. He does accept a proffered towel from one of the more tolerable girls, though, throwing it around his neck nonchalantly as his eyes sweep the area before landing on Midford.

She’s breathing heavily — they both are — and chatting happily with one of the girls in the dojo. Grey’s eyes narrow and he abruptly stands up straighter, pushing through the crowd and making his way to her. “Midford, you’re coming with me,” he commands bluntly, ignoring the numerous eyes on them. “You can talk with four-eyes some other time.”

“Her name’s Mey-Rin, Grey, and she’s been attending the dojo with us for the past four years,” Midford protests, but she allows herself to be tugged away by the irate kendo genius. They grab their bags and exit the dojo, heedless of the whispers left in their wake.

The dying rays of sunlight, shining softly past the canopy of cherry blossoms, illuminate their path. The air is cool, but not necessarily chilly; in fact, the breeze is refreshing after two hours of kendo practice. A boy on a bicycle zooms past them, but Grey isn’t inclined to speed up. It’s nice to bask in leisure silence. Each step he takes is languid, but controlled: he matches Midford’s footsteps one by one.

Grey sighs, holding his bag over his shoulder lazily and shoving his other hand in his pocket. He doesn’t speak, but meets her eyes as they wait for the stoplight to change colors so they can cross the intersection.

He’s waiting for her to spill.

Sure enough, after a few more minutes of silence, Midford breaks and asks ever so casually, “Grey...am I annoying?”

Grey halts in his tracks, pivots on his heel, and gives Midford a blatant stare of disbelief. At first, he thinks that she’s kidding. “Midford,” he says, about to joke and answer in affirmation before noticing her trembling hands and downtrodden expression.

Unlike her usually fiery, straightforward gaze, Midford’s eyes are firmly pinned on the ground. The look doesn’t suit her at all.

Instead of saying something remarkably untactful, Grey shifts his weight to his other foot to face her and demands, “Do you think I’d waste my time around people I find annoying? I have standards, you know.”

Something about his indirect answer alleviates the burden weighing on her chest: Midford stands taller, the spark she had been missing finallyigniting in her eyes again. “O-hoh, standards, you say?” she parrots, nudging him in the shoulder. It only partially works: Grey hit his growth spurt about two years ago, and Midford barely makes it to his chin. He indulges her, though, stumbling and sending her a look of mock pain. She snorts, amusement lining her smile. “Careful, Grey. It almost sounded like you cared.”

“We can’t have that, now can we?” Grey agrees amiably. He pokes her forehead and says quite clearly, “You’re hideous.”

Midford beams, swatting away his hand. “So are you,” she returns sweetly. If she notices how he leans a little closer into her as they walk side-by-side, she doesn't point it out. They continue along their well-travelled path in comfortable silence; after all, this is their weekly routine.

They round the corner and enter the convenience store. Grey straightens, his lackadaisical attitude immediately disappearing as he exudes determination and domineering confidence in waves. Immediately, he makes a beeline for the snack section, passing by racks of magazines and alcohol without a second glance. “Midford, the basket!” he orders, pointing at the general direction of the grocery baskets dramatically before grabbing two boxes of Pocky and examining them critically.

This is, after all, serious business.

She rolls her eyes, but nonetheless holds out the green shopping basket obligingly. “You’re going to get fat someday, you know,” Midford chides. Despite her admonishment, she grabs a strawberry Ramune for herself and places it in the basket. When she looks up, Grey’s smirking at her smugly, his face obviously spelling hypocrite.

Ever the mature one, Midford sticks her tongue out at him.

“I work out: I'll never get fat,” Grey dismisses, eyeing the large selection of instant noodles with interest. Midford glowers, grabbing Grey’s sleeve and tugging him to the counter before he can grab any of the large packs of ramen.

“Don’t you dare,” she says, giving him a dirty look. Her stern expression is reminiscent of Francis Midford’s classic knee-shaking glare. Grey tries to look chastised and utterly fails. It’s unfair: she’s even prettier when she’s angry. With narrowed eyes, Midford continues, “I still have an entire stash of cup noodles because of your last instant noodle escapade.”

“How would you know which brand is the best if you don’t try them all?” Grey protests, grabbing his wallet and handing the cashier the amount necessary. Midford frowns when he pays for her items, but doesn’t protest: they’ve come to an agreement that Grey would fund their convenience store expenditures while Midford pays whenever they buy from food vendors. They nod their heads at the cashier in thanks, then hurry out of the store with their bounty.

“Pocky?” he offers, wagging the chocolate-covered snack in front of her face teasingly.

Midford blinks, then nods. “Sur—”

Grey laughs at her shell-shocked expression when he unceremoniously shoves the snack in her mouth, his silver eyes daring her to eat more. She blushes a fierce red, swatting away his hand and shoving the rest of the stick in her mouth. “I really hate it when you’re like this,” she mutters, snatching his box of Pocky out of his hand.

Grey laughs, pretending not to notice how cute she is when she nibbles on another piece. “You’re so sensitive,” he jibes.

The girl sputters, waving her hands in the air dramatically. Grey has no doubt that she would have done well in drama had she taken it. “You can’t just...just... do that to people all the time, Grey!” she exclaims indignantly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses lazily. His flippant dismissal is met with a roll of the eyes, which Grey pretends not to notice. He sobers abruptly, raising an eyebrow at her. “So…” he drawls. “What did Phantomhive do?”

Grey curses himself when her face falls. Then, he mentally scolds himself: since when has he grown so soft, dammit?

Midford’s smile wavers until it’s strained at best. “It’s...nothing.”

He waits.

Sure enough, she recognizes that he’s not going to drop the subject matter. “It...wasn’t to me personally,” Midford admits. She averts her gaze, emerald eyes focusing on anything but him as she bites her lip hesitantly. “He was just...complaining a little,” she explains.

“Kendo’s such a boorish sport, its practitioners are all stupid, and Charles Grey is an ass?” Grey surmises, his voice raising in pitch to imitate the azure-eyed boy.

“...essentially.”

Grey sniffs and stuffs another chocolate-covered stick in his mouth. “Why do you even bother with him?”

Midford pauses, tilting her head and seriously considering his question. A battle wages within herself, conflicting emotions clearly flickering in her eyes. Then, she turns to stare at Grey, expression unusually bashful.  

“Well...because I...”

“...you?” Grey prompts, feeling a peculiar sense of dread well in his chest as she fiddles with the Ramune in her hands. Light, pastel pink dusts her cheeks and she shuffles her feet. Grey has never seen her look more alive, even their matches. She looks almost like those frail, lovesick girls with rounded doe eyes and pursed lips on the front of cheesy romance novels. It’s wrong.

“...I like him,” she admits, her face flushed with life as his heart thrums uselessly in his chest. Embarrassed, she averts her eyes. Her shy bashfulness, although cute, isn’t meant for him.

Roses wither away slowly, petal by petal. In contrast, camellias —the roses of winter— fall in one swoop.

Grey feels something plummet in his heart.

She’s still talking. “D-don’t go blabbing about that though, alright? I’m only saying this because I trust you!” Midford blabs, stammering and pushing back a stray strand of golden hair in an attempt to calm her nerves.

There’s this strange atmosphere of tension between them. Grey knows that he’s supposed to respond, now: he’s supposed to tease her, to parody her expression of love. He can’t, though: somehow, his bravado has all but abandoned him. If he says Phantomhive’s name, he thinks he might throw up.

His response is automatic, instinct taking over as his brain fails to understand the weight of her words. “Aw, you trust me? I’m honored, Midford.” For particular dramatic emphasis, he places a hand to his heart and flutters his eyelashes coquettishly at her. Grey’s comment has an immediate effect: the atmosphere around them lightens, and they’re “just Midford and Grey” once more.

She giggles, punching his arm playfully. “You should feel honored, peasant. I’m bestowing upon you my hard-earned trust,” she says, deigning him a particularly regal look.

Grey’s laugh is brittle (fake). “Your trust, hard earned? Hah! You’re much too soft, Midford. Any pickpocket could just ask for your money and you’d happily give them your wallet after hearing whatever sob story they concocted.”

“It pays to be kind, Grey,” Midford admonishes him. She sounds exactly like her stick-in-the-mud brother who is all too much obsessed with chivalry and honor.

Grey pivots on his heel and begins walking backwards leisurely, hands placed lazily behind his neck. “Your kindness will be your downfall,” he predicts.

“'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” Midford quotes. She really should have tried for the drama club; instead, she dedicated her afternoons to dueling Grey in the dojo. “Besides, I could think of worse fatal flaws than kindness.” She pauses to raise an eyebrow at him. “Hubris, for example.”

He scowls, raising a finger in protest. “Say, what are you implying—”

She giggles, rushing ahead of him with laughter bubbling in her throat. “Nothing~” she calls teasingly.

Grey sighs, watching her retreating figure for a long moment. Even with her back facing him, he still finds her...beautiful. Not in the romantic sense (at least, he doesn’t think so), but perhaps in a way that one views art: rapturing, vivacious, and captivating.

She’s Midford, his friend for all of eight years. She’s Midford, the girl who he had dueled practically everyday, exchanging jabs and bantering between sword thrusts and parries. She’s Midford, the girl who he has comforted far too many times than he should. (She should always be smiling.)

She’s Midford.

She’s Lizzy.

Something heavy constricts in his chest.

Grey sighs again, his pace languid as he follows her.

“He’s coming to the tournament,” Midford frets, barely ducking his strike. Her voice is higher than usual, her anxiety obvious despite the helmet shielding her expression from view. She’s nervous, and it shows: thrice already, she had barely avoided his blows, moving around sloppily with the grace of an elephant. She had been too distracted by the fanciful scenarios her mind readily supplied. “Maybe I should just sit this one out?”

Grey is sick of it. Dueling is supposed to be their time (his time), and hearing Midford put herself down because of fucking Phantomhive puts him in the worst of moods.

“No, I can’t do that,” Midford agonizes. “What do I do? If he sees me—”

“—then he’ll realize how skilled and strong you are,” Grey cuts her off, rolling his eyes. Barely concealed contempt for the Phantomhive brat boils in his veins, threatening to seep into his movements, but Grey suppresses it. He is ice, not fire. Swiftly, he easily counters her next blow and twists around to meet another lightning-quick strike. “I don’t see why you’re worrying so much.”

“He hates women like me!” she bursts out, half hysterical. Grey is finished with this nonsense.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you, goddammit!” Grey snaps, pulling off his helmet and allowing her to see his blazing silver eyes. The dojo suddenly grows very quiet as the other kendo practitioners avert their eyes uncomfortably. Despite the attention focused on them, Grey’s eyes are focused solely on Midford. “Try to value yourself more, Midford. If he doesn’t like you for who you are, then he’s not worth your affection.”

Midford shifts her weight from her right to left side, removing her helmet to stare at him. She looks as if she has been struck by lightning, her eyes round with wonder.

It’s in that very moment when Grey’s struck by a realization: the uncomfortable feeling in his chest isn’t annoyance. It’s jealousy.

He wants her to smile at him like that. He wants her to care about him to the point that she misses a crucial opportunity for a counterattack. He wants her to fuss over him, not stupid Phantomhive who has made her cry more times than he knows.

Grey wants her to love him.

He loves her.

It’s as if the world has shifted on its axis; suddenly, he finds it harder to breathe, unable to tear his eyes away from Midford, Elizabeth, Lizzy—

“Grey?” she asks tentatively, her voice suddenly meek. She eyes him as though he were a wild animal; he realizes that his body is still tense. Grey forcibly calms himself, relaxing his taut shoulders and falling back into his usual slouched stance.

“Come on, Midford,” Grey chides. He adopts the same lackadaisical tone he always uses around her, but somehow it’s harder to force the words out. “Your backbone seems to disappear when you’re around him. If Phantomhive’s as wonderful as you claim, he shouldn’t care that you can beat older men without breaking a sweat.”

(I care. I care for your strength; I love you for your strength.)

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable,” Midford emphasizes, eyes trained on the floor.

(Do you ever consider accommodating me like that?)

(Of course. She’s Midford, kind and much too caring for her own good: if there’s any way she can help others, she’ll do it with no consideration for herself.)

Grey scowls, then impulsively strides over to her and grabs her by the chin. Pushing her chin upwards so she’s looking him in the eyes, he says, “You’re always worrying about others’ happiness. Who’s going to worry about you?”

She stares at him unflinchingly. Then she tilts her head and smiles, sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach as if he’s a giggling schoolgirl, for pity’s sake. “Well, you obviously,” Midford says.

Grey blinks in surprise, then releases her and takes a step back. “Me?”

“You know, despite what you say about yourself...you’re a good person, Grey,” Midford beams, charisma rolling off her in waves. Her eyes are sparkling in such a vivacious way that he can’t look away. Her smile is like the sun: dangerous, but too captivating to look away. If Phantomhive is the Sun to Midford’s Earth, then Grey is the moon (a shallow substitute for her sun, unable to escape her gravity). “And even more than that: you’re a good friend. Maybe even my best friend.”

“I think that honor goes to Sullivan,” he deadpans.

“Sieglinde’s a sweetheart,” Midford acknowledges, “But she’s always busy with schoolwork to really talk to me, you know? You...you’re different. You pretend to be coarse and ruthless, but underneath that facade is a heart of gold. Wouldn’t you say so?”

Grey scoffs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he responds evasively.

She beams at him again, and suddenly Grey feels as if he’s choking. “And I’m here for y—”

“Shit, I have stuff to do,” he curses, interrupting her. His throat is painfully raw, but he forces himself to speak. “Catch you later, Midford.”

“You can’t escape the truth, you softie!” she calls, laughing as he quickly escapes to the changing room to change out of his equipment.

He manages to stumble into his house, coughing. It’s sheer luck that nobody else is inside: Phipps is probably at the Handiworks Club and Undertaker is away at work. Grey coughs again, nearly tripping over his feet as he manages to toss off his shoes and enter the foyer. His chest is constricting painfully, each step a monumental effort as Grey struggles to breathe.

It's almost embarrassing how hard it is for him to do something that he always took for granted. If Grey lives through this, he swears that he’ll never taking breathing naturally for granted again.

Swaying precariously, he leans against the wall for support. His knees buckle, and he staggers forward, slowly sliding to the ground. It feels as if the world is tilting and God damn it, he can’t breathe!

“Fuck,” he breathes. That one word is enough to elicit another storm of coughs, even more tortuous than the previous ones. His lungs are on fire and are drowning all at once, and each breath saps more of Grey’s willpower.

What’s wrong with me?

Pulling his hand away from his mouth, he stares at the bloody flowers he undoubtedly coughed up with utter bewilderment. Because of the blood, they’re slippery, but he still manages to recognize the scarlet flower. His silver eyes flicker with thought.

Camellias. What the hell?

Grey coughs again, letting out an agonizing wheeze. Black spots dance before his eyes, but he pulls himself up to his feet and staggers to his computer.

.

.

.

He learns it's called Hanahaki Disease.

.

.

.

Heh, although Midford always threatened to kill me...I never thought that it would actually come true.

[cielizzydefencesquad]

Hello loves! To kick off the new year I wrote a little Grey/Lizzy fic entitled starlight supernova. It’s a screwball adventure-comedy that involves Lizzy, Grey, a dinner party, and a somewhat courteous kidnapping. 

Snippet:

“Do you think me considerate?” He asks, eyes tracing the hourglass curve of her waist, the fullness of her chest, and the delicate hollow of her snow-pale throat.

“I think you’re perfectly wretched.” Elizabeth smiles, now standing a foot away from where Grey reclined. “I think you’re wretched and I won’t go anywhere with you.”

“Ah, so you won’t leave with me willingly?”

“No.” Lizzy clarifies and Grey nearly laughs out loud, catching the hint of mischief in her voice. “I wouldn’t go anywhere with you willingly.” She emphasizes the last word, eyes bright with false innocence.

Oh-ho. Grey can’t believe it.

Perfect little Elizabeth Midford! Who would have guessed. 

“Then tell me, my lady,” he reaches for her hand (and she willing acquiesces), allowing Grey to lace their fingers together, “what would you say to a kidnapping?”

[queencamellia]

Cielizzy AND GreyLizzy tho ✨✨ Or: Grey and Ciel could've been pretty cool bros years later Or: mhmmm angssssst Dedicated to my fellow GreyLizzy and Cielizzy lovers 😘😘

[queencamellia]

Kuro Gakuen AU (Ch.1)

Based on this post by @rheaaasss​. I think I’m going to be writing a lot for this AU LMAO.

Ao3 Link Here!

Chapter 1: Signing Up

I’ve learned so much about fencing from writing these two and nOW I’M LEARNING ABOUT KENDO. I’ll be a martial arts expert by the time Lizzy appears again in the manga.

(Yana, bring my angel back. I beg of you.)

 The bell rang, signalling the end of class. Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford, known as “Lizzy” to most, stood up from her seat, having already prepped her bag minutes before. Emerald eyes darting from the left to the right, she sent her seatmate a friendly smile. “Well, cheers to Spring vacation,” she said, offering a hand.

“Take care of yourself, Lizzy,” Sieglinde instructed, shaking her hand and rolling her eyes. “The boys from the upper division hardly look...innocuous.”

Lizzy snorted, knowing her friend was only saying so out of concern. “I’ll keep that in mind. Please... try to come outside every once in awhile?” she begged, clasping onto her friend’s hand. “We have twelve days of relaxation until the school year starts again.”

“I have books to read, new inventions to be made, and other matters to be addressed,” Sieglinde droned, counting off her tasks on a hand. “Not to mention preparation for the coming school year.”

“Sieglinde …”

“Just kidding,” the raven haired girl laughed, nudging Lizzy gently. “I’ll come to whatever barbecue party you’re arranging for the cherry blossom festival.”

Lizzy brightened, beaming at her friend. “Great! I’ll text you with the details, later.”

“Is that your brother?”

“Huh?” Lizzy turned around, blinking in surprise and recognizing the irate look of her brother surrounded by various gushing teenage girls. “Oh, I’d better go save him before he spontaneously combusts from embarrassment. See you later, Sieglinde!”

“Take care.”

“Nii-san!” Lizzy called, exuding innocence as she shoved past all of the squealing girls. “Ready to go home?”

Edward gave her a look of blatant relief for saving him. “Y-yeah. Let’s go, Lizzy.” Gently, he attempted to pry one of the fangirls off of him. The two Midfords took off as if they were being chased by vultures — which, in a way, was a fair comparison. Once they reached the lower-division’s shoe lockers, Lizzy literally shoved her bag at her brother to slip on her shoes as quickly as possible.

“Come on, let’s go,” Lizzy tugged at Edward’s sleeve desperately, grabbing her bag back with her other hand.

But by then, it was too late.

“Midford!”

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. Pivoting on her heel, she gave a tiny smile at the approaching figure. “Grey-senpai, nice to see you. Will you be coming to the barbecue party as well?”

“Of course, I never pass down free food,” Grey dismissed immediately, slowing down as he caught up to the two Midfords. “Anyways, that’s not what I came to speak to you of.”

“Has my mother cancelled kendo lessons?” Lizzy guessed.

In response, a flier was shoved in her face. Lizzy blinked, stupefied for a moment, then took the flier. “Sign ups for Kuro Academy’s kendo...club?” she read aloud, glancing at Grey in question. “I thought we didn’t have a kendo club?”

“Phipps and I got it running ourselves,” Grey proclaimed smugly. “We’ve already got a couple of fellows to sign up, including your brother.”

“Hm. That’s great.” Lizzy handed him back the flier, smiling at him. “Good for you.”

Grey stared at her, then his silver eyes narrowed. “Is that all?’

“Uh...I’m glad to see that kendo is becoming more popular around here? It’s about time a club was started up,” Lizzy tried.

His scowl deepened.

“...you’ll do well as a coach?” she tried again.

His glare darkened to the point that several bystanders took a step back.

“I’m rooting for you...and Phipps-senpai...and nii-san ?”

“God damn it, Midford,” he snapped. “I’m asking you to join the club.”

Realization dawned on Lizzy’s features. “Ohhhh, I see now.”

“About time,” Grey muttered to himself, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Well?” he demanded.

Lizzy shifted awkwardly, glancing longingly at the doors. “Sorry, but I’ll have to decline.”

“Great, now just sign—what. ”

“I’m not joining.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

Lizzy shrugged.

Grey glared.

“...is this still about you trying to be one of those weak and dainty lolis that your cousin has a complex for?”

“Astre does not have a loli-complex,” Lizzy protested immediately, whipping around to face him. “But strong girls make him feel uncomfortable. I’m his cousin, for heaven’s sake, and he already can’t attend school because of his sickness. And Ciel’s recently gotten a job at a café, so he’s probably even more lonely than usual.”

“Grey-san,” Edward said suddenly, cutting in. Lizzy nearly startled: she had forgotten that her brother was standing next to her. “Don’t you have to find Phipps-san?”

Grey scowled, but glanced at his watch and winced. “I’ll be back, Midford,” he promised darkly. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he stalked past them to search for his fellow silver-haired classmate. Lizzy stared at the empty space he once occupied thoughtfully, then nodded at her brother and began walking outside.

They had just exited the school when Edward said hesitantly, “Lizzy…”

“Mm?”

“Are you sure about this?”

Lizzy angled her head slightly so she could meet her brother’s eyes. “About what?” she echoed, waving at Paula, their chauffeur. The brunette servant waved back, flustered, before entering their slick black car.

“You don’t need to sacrifice your happiness for him,” Edward explained softly. “Astre will understand. That new butler has been keeping him company, anyways, and I heard that Uncle Vincent is hiring a few new hands that are closer to his age, too.”

Lizzy was silent for a few moments, entering the car once it pulled up to the pair of siblings. “He’s still mycousin,” Lizzy said hoarsely. “I don’t want him to be...to be scared of me.”

“Exactly,” Edward insisted. “He’s your cousin, which is why he won’t think any less of you even if he learns of your kendo prowess. He’s your cousin, so he’ll still love you just the way you are.”

“But…”

“You care too much, Lizzy. You’re an amazing girl, and I’m proud to have you as my sister. Astre loves you, and the fact that you’re strong enough to take home several kendo trophies won’t make him love you any less,” Edward said affectionately, leaning over to ruffle her hair. “He...he’d want you to enjoy yourself. I want you to do what you want, too.”

Lizzy stared out of the window in contemplative silence.

 “Midford!”

“Oh my god , Grey-senpai, how the hell did you get inside my house?”

“Your mother invited me. Early kendo practice, remember?”

“Then... why are you in my room?”

“”Because you would be here? Anyways, I brought the kendo club sign ups right here, all you have to do is sign.”

“Lizzy, I heard screaming. Is something goin— how dare you defile my little sister like this, you ungentlemanly swine!”

“...why the fuck does he sound like he’s quoting Shakespeare?”

“God damn it, Grey-senpai — run!”

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

 “Midford!”

“Why are you in my kitchen?”

“Like I said: your mother let me in. These creampuffs are delicious, by the way.”

“T-those were supposed to be for Ciel and Astre, you dumbass.”

“I brought the kendo club sign up sheet—oi, Midford, where are you going?”

“Out.”

 “Midford! Oi, Midford, get out here!”

“Why is Charles Grey standing outside of our house calling for you?”

“Ignore him, Astre. Here, why don’t we head to the living room where there aren’t any windows?”

“It vaguely sounds like he’s talking about kendo—”

“Let’s go, Astre.”

 “Midfo—”

“Give. Me. The. Sheet.”

Grey blinked in surprise for a minute, then hastily fumbled in grabbing the paper and literally throwing it at her with all his might, as if afraid she would suddenly take back her statement if she considered it a moment longer. “Have my charms finally won you over?” he asked, giving her a cocky grin.

“I just realized that if I didn’t address the manner, you’d ruin the flower viewing party with your insistent demands,” Lizzy sniffed, setting down her shopping bags and whipping out a pen. She’d just finished shopping with Ciel for Astre’s birthday present. “Don’t give yourself so much credit.”

“Hah, you know, Midford...there’s a term for girls like you.”

“And that is?”

“Tsun…” And here, Grey leaned closer, leering at her and poking her forehead with his finger. “...dere.”

Lizzy adopted an affronted look, swatting away his hand and grabbing her bags. “I am not .”

“Are too.”

“Am not ,” Lizzy said with finality, rolling her eyes and resuming her walk back to the parking lot where Paula was waiting. “And we are not going to get into one of those kind of childish debates.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grey easily fell in pace with her, maintaining a distance of about ten centimeters between them.

“I’ll see you at the party?” Lizzy presumed, raising an eyebrow and signing her name on the sheet with a particularly dramatic flourish. Then, she offered said sheet to her suddenly smug silver-haired companion.

He took the proffered paper with particular grace. “Of course.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” Lizzy nodded at Paula in acknowledgment for opening the car door.

“The first practice starts on the first. Don’t be late,” Grey called after her.

“I’ll be there,” Lizzy returned coolly, shutting the door. It wasn’t until they had driven for several minutes before she finally allowed herself to slump back in her seat, sheer giddiness making her unable to stop smiling.

She’d done it! She actually signed up for the kendo club! It’d taken her several days to gather the courage to do so, but suddenly it felt as if a large weight was lifted off of her shoulders. Lizzy couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her lips, buoyed by the bubbling happiness in her chest.

She did it.

Signing up for this would either become the best or worst thing in her life.

next chapter will be out soon??? maybe???