#t r a d e m a r k e d. // fake ciel

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[the-letter-horror-lover]

Kuroshitsuji One-Shots

LadyCookieCupcake

Summary: A collection of one-shots centred around the characters of Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, based around various prompts I find over the internet.

Chapter 1: One-Shot Guide

Chapter Text

NSFW Tags:

NSFW-S = Not Safe For Work-Smut

NSFW-V = Not Safe For Work-Violence

NSFW-D = Not Safe For Work-Death

SFW Tags:

SFW-Fa = Safe For Work-Family

SFW-Fl = Safe For Work-Fluff

SFW-G = Safe For Work-Generic

SFW-H/C = Safe For Work-Hurt/Comfort

SFW-Co = Safe For Work-Comfort

SFW-ER = Safe For Work-Established Relationship

Also, you may have seen a lot of these already, as I published them before on here. However, I wanted all of the one-shots put together, though, so they're a bit neater. So apologies for any confusion I may have caused. :)

{{ C i e l . P h a n t o m h i v e }}

Guardian Angel | Chapter One (( SFW-H/C; SFW-Fa; NSFW-V ))

Halloween Night | Chapter Two (( SFW-Fl; SFW-G; pre-Kuroshitsuji ))

{{ M e y - R i n }}

Don't Hurt Him! | Chapter Three ((SFW-G; NSFW-V; SFW-C ))

{{ U n d e r t a k e r }}

Massages | Chapter Four ((SFW-G; SFW-Fl ))

Chapter 2: Guardian Angel | Ciel Phantomhive

Summary:

what if the demon was late?

Notes:

originally published: n/a

sort-of edited: 17/03/2020

Chapter Text

The first tug came at night, midnight to be precise, when you were watching over a child who'd lost her way. You had been so focused on this lost child, watching intently as her smile became less fake and more genuine, her once-dull eyes sparkling with sincere happiness, that you hadn't even realised there was a tug.

When you finally did realise, it was so faint, almost hesitant, that you almost just passed it off as nothing. It couldn't be anything. After all, all those who call to an Angel are desperate; there would never be a single ounce of hesitance.

So you shook your head and ignored it- or tried to. Despite what you had been taught, you shrugged it off as nothing and tried to ignore it, so very sure of yourself, and slowly but surely it worked.

Until it just didn't.

The sky had been clear of clouds that day, allowing the bright sun rays to beam down upon the happy passerby, a gentle wind ruffling their hair and outfits. It had been peaceful, happy- and yet you were not.

The tug was there, still hesitant, still faint, but there was this feeling now. This odd, strange feeling of...something. You weren't sure what it was - dread? fear? sorrow? - but it was strong, so very strong that when it hit you, you had to stop, clench your eyes shut and take a few deep breaths, head pounding and feet stumbling whenever you moved.

But then it disappeared. The feeling was there one second and gone the next, leaving you to go back to normal- but you didn't. You couldn't. Despite the hesitance, despite the faint tug, that feeling - odd, desperate - had been too much, too strong to just ignore, but you couldn't go. Even if you wanted to help - which you found you did -, you didn't even know who was calling. There was no certain direction, just a faint tug and an odd feeling.

You didn't want to give up (Angels don't give up on Humans, no matter what), but-.

Before you could continue that train of thought, however, that feeling came back, along with that tug but- but it was different. The feeling was stronger, the tug no longer hesitant. This person, they wanted your help, now! Needed it, in fact but how?

Again, you did not know where to go. You suddenly felt helpless, and you dreaded the thought that not all of this helplessness was from yourself.

Gripping the tree you had been walking by that day, you clenched your eyes shut, took a couple of deep breaths, and tried to block your surroundings out. It took a little longer than normal - though you were sure that was due to your overwhelming emotions - but finally, you managed to do it, and soon your mind was searching.

You could picture yourself moving from place to place, different buildings quickly moulding into one, people walking by turning into just blurring movement- and then you stopped.

There, in front of you, was a church. An ordinary church, that you would've probably thought nothing of under different circumstances. Maybe you would have gone inside, but you certainly would not have thought anything so tragically desperate would be inside.

You could feel the slight simmer of anger bubble in your stomach, but you quickly quenched it.

No, don't get angry. Be calm and help whoever needs your help. You scolded yourself. Opening your eyes, you took off running, hitching up your skirt so you wouldn't trip and fall. You didn't have any time to waste, you needed to get there quickly.

As you ran you could feel the glances and hear the snickers but you ignored them. None of these people was as important to you as this desperate being was suddenly.

People shrieked and shouted at you as you bumped into them, hastily apologising but they didn't matter, because suddenly the church was in front of you. You never knew a church could be as imposing as it was now, and you had been in plenty of them, always reminding yourself to say hello to Father.

A church should not be terrifying, you thought, angry at anybody who made it so.

Suddenly you felt the tug become stronger like somebody had hold of your hand in a tight grip and was dragging you in. You shook your head, soothing the anger away, and ran straight up to the doors, making sure not to trip over your skirt or feet. You practically threw yourself at the door.

You were making enough noise to get anybody's attention but you didn't care. Instead, you continued to throw yourself at the door, again and again, until finally, the doors opened and in you stumbled, straight to the floor.

You huffed at the strand of hair that fell into your eyes and scrambled your way upwards. You took one step- but stopped, because there, right there, in front of you were people. People dressed in dark robes. They looked as imposing and terrifying as ever, and if those robes weren't enough, the fact that they stood in front of a table, on which a young boy laid, eyes wide and searching desperately around him for someone to help.

Eh...what? This- this...? What? Why are they-? These are children of God, they- they wouldn't-... Would they? Why though? No, they can't but it's right there, the proof that they are.

A light glint blinded you for a second, and you looked up, just in time to see one of the robed people lift up a dagger, right above the boy's heart. You can't remember much of what happened next; just the sound of the boy's scream, mixed with the terrified shouts of the robed people and a loud clatter to the floor where the dagger now laid, and then- nothing.

You blinked a few times - once, twice, thrice - and looked around, wincing when you saw the bodies on the floor.

Are they-? Have I just-?

One of the people groaned and your head snapped in their direction, but their eyes were still closed, chest still lifting (though barely). They weren't dead, just gravely injured.... You weren't sure whether to be happy about that or not.

A light whimper brought your attention back to the boy in front of you and you turned, taking in the boy. He was skinny, too skinny, as evident by his hollow cheeks, and he wore nothing but a white button-up that stopped half-way to his thighs. His eyes, dark blue and wide, were showing fear, pure fear as they took you in, and you realised he was terrified of you.

As much as this hurt you, you understood. If you had been placed in his shoes, you would be too, fearful of any living thing. You didn't want to scare him though, so you took a deep breath and calmly smiled, keeping a good enough distance between the two of you.

"Hello, mister." You calmly said. He winced which caused you to wince as well. He seemed to want to shrink into himself, but he didn't. For some strange reason, he didn't. Instead, he tried to appear strong, undefeated, which may have worked had it not been for how tired and scared his eyes looked.

No amount of hiding could prevent you - who had seen eyes as hallow as his before - from seeing how broken this boy was.

And if there's anything I do best, it's helping people, you thought and decided right then and there, that you would be the one to help him. He called to you, though unknowingly (as most often do). This young, broken boy wanted somebody, anybody to help him, and that you can and will do.

"Let's get you out of these chains, shall we?" You carefully spoke, your voice gentle and soft, and waited for him to let you. You did not want to rush things.

He took a while, seemingly debating whether or not to let you near, but eventually he sighed and laid his head down, nodding ever-so-softly. You carefully walked over, swiftly taking the chains off of his ankles and wrists. You watched for any sudden movements from the boy, but he seemed too tired to even keep his eyes open, let alone fight you.

"Are you going to kill me?" The boy suddenly spoke and you froze, halfway between walking closer to him. You were going to ask if you could pick him up, so you could take him home and care for him there when he had spoken. His voice was as broken as his eyes were, hoarse and quiet at the same time. You dreaded to think about what had caused such hoarseness.

"Of course, not." You answered. The offence you felt altered how hard your tone was just a little and your eyes narrowed a little at such a thought. You were not those horrible, nasty people currently laying on the ground. You were here to protect him, not hurt him, and you said as much.

He did not seem to believe you but he also did not seem to care, and when you asked to pick him up, you got the slightest reaction from his body freezing up before it relaxed and he nodded silently.

Carefully, mindful of the cuts and bruises (which became more obvious the closer you looked), you placed one arm around his back and the other under his legs and carefully lifted him up, cradling him close to your chest.

As you turned, you carefully stepped over the men below, making sure not to trip and drop the boy. The young boy yawned as he curled into your embrace, though he tried to hide it, and you smiled gently at him, eyes shining with all the love and care a mother's eyes would.

"Get some sleep, my dear boy. I'll wake you when we get home." You said gently, and he did not waste a second to listen, eyes slipping close and his chest evening out a second later. His face, though still hollow and broken, looked quite peaceful, and you had a feeling this was the first time he had been at peace.

Your smile widened a little. Yes, you were going to care for him, treat him as one of your own, teach him and love him. You would be his Guardian Angel, and you promised to whoever would listen, that if anybody hurt him, they would have you to pay to.

Chapter 3: Don't Hurt Him! | Meyrin

Notes:

originally published: n/a

edited: n/a

written as a request for a male reader x meyrin

Chapter Text

"Remember our deal."

He remembered resisting the urge to gulp as he nodded, eyes cast down despite his head facing straight ahead. He wasn't to look him in the eyes or else the other would think he was challenging him, and that's the last thing he wanted. (Y/N) couldn't even think of doing so without thought of what would happen to his parents appearing in his head as well.

So, he nodded, waited for his glaring to stop and for the other to turn away, and then left the room, dressed nicely and neatly. He looked like a true gentleman, dressed handsomely in a black suit and white dress shirt.

Black dress shoes clicked against the floor as he walked, and for a second (Y/N) felt like the king of the world��and then the carriage pulled up and it all dispersed.

Now, here he was, sitting in the too-fancy carriage, dressed in his too-fancy clothing, pretending to be a too-fancy bastard of a man; and to make matters worse he was nearly at the manor of Earl Phantomhive, the boy who after disappearing for a while, came back and reclaimed his rightful title of Earl Phantomhive like nothing had happened.

Everybody has heard of him—it's hard not to—but no one knew where he'd disappeared to, what happened to him to make the once lively boy turn so cold, and how he arrived with a butler in tow.

No one even knew who the butler was, just that he was extremely skilled in his job and, as (Y/N) noticed (and refused to admit, was quite envious of) made quite a few girls swoon.

The Earl Phantomhive intrigued him, a little but there was just something there that...scared him more. And now he was in front of the Phantomhive Manor, which only served to tighten the nerves he had whenever he thought about the whole situation.

Somewhere in that large building—maybe behind the front doors, maybe in his office— was the young Earl, waiting patiently (or impatiently) for his new guest to arrive. He was probably eager to go to bed, or at least relax. (Y/N) sure were.

The sound of the carriage door opening brought him back to reality, and (Y/N) looked up, eyes wide for a second before he quickly replaced his startled expression with a clear one, making sure to show only an appropriate amount of surprise before smiling at the tall man politely.

The butler—you assumed at least, he was dressed as such—did nothing but continue to stare at him, and he coughed awkwardly, eager to get out of the man's sight.

Standing up, (Y/N) walked over to the entrance, carefully stepped down the stairs and thanked the butler, to which he replied simply with a closed-eye smile and a soft bow.

Alright then, he thought and resisted the urge to cough again. He turned towards the manor.

It was as large and imposing as he had thought it would be. (Y/N) felt his heartbeat quicken and he gulped, watching as the butler worked ahead and disappeared within the manor before taking a deep breath and preparing himself.

Get in, get the required files, and then get out. Simple... yes, simple.

Ignoring the voice inside his head that shouted it would be anything but, (Y/N) followed after the butler inside the manor.

This will be easy...ish...maybe...hopefully.

•

As soon as he was inside the manor, the door was shut behind him and (Y/N) was led to Earl Phantomhive's office. It didn't take too long to get there, though maybe that was because he was nervous.

Time always seemed to sped up when he didn't want it to.

(Y/N) clenched his teeth and tried to focus on breathing quietly through his nose.

Don't panic, (Y/N). Don't panic.

Walking into the room, the first thing he noticed was how...ordinary the office appeared to be. He wasn't sure what he'd expected but this wasn't it.

Lining the wall were shelves and cabinets of books and more books, all of which he knew he couldn't read. They appeared to be quite old, from the condition of them anyway. The carpet looked soft and matched the dark atmosphere in the room. There was a desk situated in front of the door but closer to the opposite side of the room, where a large window lay behind him. There was also a chair in front of the desk, closer to him, but he wasn't sure whether to sit down or not. So, instead, (Y/N) lingered, hovering just behind the chair.

The chair behind the desk suddenly turned, and the image of the Earl dressed up like some comedic villain popped inside his head. What would've made it better, was if there'd been a cat in his arms.

He'd never seen the Earl but it wasn't strange to think that he was an adult. His reputation was usually only made by one twice his age, and yet here he was, a child of mere eleven or twelve.

And that was when (Y/N) realised that no, he was not a villain. Just a child trying to be older than he actually was.

A faint swing of sorrow pooled in the pit of his stomach. He knew what it was like having to grow up so quickly.

But then he switched his gaze from his butler to him and (Y/N) froze, realising that his age meant nothing. He deserved that reputation of danger.

He wasn't sure how long the gaze lasted (though it felt like forever), but when the Earl finally turned away he couldn't help but breathe out a silent sigh of relief.

"Please, have a seat." Earl Phantomhive said, though his tone left no move to question. He wasn't asking. (Y/N) finally sat down in one quick move, placing his hands in his lap as he'd seen the master do before.

(Y/N) tried to resist the urge to fiddle with his fingers and instead focused on the Earl. All he wanted to do was run and hide—sitting under that gaze was the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced, and he had to grow up with the Abbott twins.

Little demons they were.

"So, Lord... Abbott, am I correct?" He began and (Y/N) quickly snapped back to attention, keeping his face as neutral as he could.

"Yes, that is correct."

And unsure of what to do next, he decided to simply outstretch his hand for a handshake. Master Abbott had done so many times to those he had over as guests. But a quirked eyebrow caused him to quickly withdraw his arm.

He coughed awkwardly before settling on just staying silent. (Y/N) rose his chin a little, hoping he looked as professional as Master Abbott.

Be like Lord Abbott!

It wasn't as easy as one might expect; Earl Phantomhive kept asking questions, and he had to answer them at a reasonable speed, with a certain air of indifferent politeness and all without stuttering.

Goodness, why was this so hard?

All (Y/N) wanted to do was grab the files and then leave, but he couldn't. He couldn't do it until both the Earl and his butler left but neither seemed ready to leave just yet. He was frozen to his chair too.

And of course, it didn't help that he seemed to see right through (Y/N)'s facade. That ever-present frown only seemed to deepen more every second. He could feel it was only a matter of time before something happened.

There were so many things that could go wrong, so many punishments he would suffer—and not just from Earl Phantomhive.

As time passed, (Y/N) felt the urge to run and hide mix with the urge to scream, and he wasn't sure how much of this he could deal with—and then there was a loud crash right outside of the office, cutting the Earl off halfway through.

With an annoyed sigh, he gestured for the butler to go see. The butler nodded, bowed politely and with that closed-eye, tight-lipped smile he'd seen earlier, he left the room, shutting the door quietly.

Then it was just (Y/N) and the Earl but the air, though still somewhat tense, got a little easier to breathe in. (Y/N) took a deep breath, in through his nose and silently out through his mouth, before turning back to the Earl—and then froze.

Oh, no, he was wrong. Though the air became a little less tense, the Earl had not. In fact, his frown depended even more, more so that now it looked downright murderous. (Y/N) gulped before he could stop himself, and suddenly he realised he needed to leave. Now!

(Y/N) will suffer the punishment of his master if it meant getting out of this godforsaken manor!

"E-eh," He stuttered, coughing quickly to try and disguise it, "I- Well, I must say it's getting quite late. I mu-must get going, I wouldn't wa-want to impose a-any longer. Th-thank you for, um, agreeing to this rather erupt meeting, and I-I hope to sp-speak with you again s-soon."

(Y/N) stood as he spoke, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't question the stuttering and just allow him to leave. Making sure he had everything he'd came with, (Y/N) began to back up towards the door, an almost-primal fear refusing to allow him to turn his back to him.

The Earl watched him, eyes still narrowed and frown still evident, and (Y/N) made sure to maintain polite eye contact, afraid of what may happen if he didn't.

All too soon, he hit the door. (Y/N) couldn't stop the yelp from breaking free, though he refused to let it stop him. He felt for the doorknob and quickly turned it, opening the door.

(Y/N) bowed as a final farewell and turned, eager to leave—only to crash right into a firm chest. A quick glance upwards showed it was the butler, and he apologised hastily, shoving right past him.

It took everything to not run. He could feel the butler's gaze burn itself into his back, and only when he turned the corner did (Y/N) feel it was safe enough to breathe. It came out shaky, though, and a wave of dizziness threatened to overtake him.

Fingers clenched into a fist and he focused solely on breathing, placing a quivering hand against his racing heart.

Eyes slipping closed, he took one, two, three deep breaths and slowly, (Y/N) felt his heartbeat decrease to a healthy speed. He felt he could actually get out of this without a panic attack.

Unfortunately, (Y/N) wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings, and if he had he would've become aware of the ever-increasing shadows and how they seemed to grow darker.

As it was, he didn't realise the atmosphere becoming colder, darker to the point of suffocation—and then it stopped. He blinked his eyes open and took a step forward, paused, wondered why the hallway felt...weird, and then shrugged.

It didn't matter. Just leave.

(Y/N) speed-walked down the hallway, head dead but eyes flickering left and right. The reputation of the servants was just as well-known and dangerous as that of the Earl and his butler. It was said they were just as, if not more, deadly than the Earl himself.

Some said they knew how to kill without so much as a droplet of blood as evidence. Some said they were monsters masquerading as men. Some even said the maid herself could clean up one murder while she committed another at the same time.

There were many rumours concerning this manor and its residents, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know the truth.

Finally, the stairs came into view and his walking sped up a little. (Y/N) was so focused on how close to the front door, to freedom that he hadn't even realised there was another person with him— not until he felt a hand on his shoulder, however.

Panicking, (Y/N) turned quickly, arms flailing a little in surprise. His eyes went wide as they took in the person who'd grabbed him, and (Y/N) took a step back upon realising it was the butler.

How? How did he get here so quick? Was there a secret passageway he wasn't aware of? Could he just run really fast? (Y/N) didn't know and frankly, he didn't care. He just wanted to get as far away from him as possible, away from those piercing red eyes—!

Suddenly, he felt the air woosh up from underneath him, and then he was falling. Oh yeah, (Y/N) had forgotten the steps were behind him.

The fall seemed to last forever. He hit every step with a painful thud, and every pray for it to finally end seemed to remain ignored.

Until finally it was over.

He was sprawled out at the bottom of the steps, body aching all over. His legs hurt, his arms hurt, his chest hurt, everything hurt. Even groaning seemed to only succeed at hurting his head more.

Slowly, (Y/N) sat up, eyes gazing around. For a moment he felt light, too far away to recognise the footsteps—and then he froze. Those footsteps belonged to the butler himself, and he was getting closer and closer. He looked like a predator, closing in on his prey at a slow speed—like he knew there was no getting away for (Y/N).

He could still see those eyes, glowing in the dark, illuminating his pale skin with a sickly glow. The shadows trailing after him seemed to grow and he felt a primal fear eat away at his heart. (Y/N) tried to stand, and when that failed he tried to scramble away, hands and feet clumsy as they tried to back as far away from him as possible.

The aches were still there though, stopping him from moving much. All too soon his legs collapsed, a dull ache pulsing through his limbs but he didn't stop. Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, he continued to stalk towards (Y/N) and for a fleeting moment, the image of bloody claws holding his torn-apart remains appeared inside his head.

(Y/N) didn't want to see that. He didn't want to see what he would do. So he clenched his eyes shut and turned away, body tense in preparation for an attack.

Nothing happened.

He kept his eyes shut, just in case, but minutes passed and nothing happened. (Y/N) continued to breathe, body aching only from the fall down the stairs. Risking it, he slowly peaked an eye open—and gasped when he saw a tallish figure standing in front of him, her back turned to him.

She had her arms raised in front of her but he couldn't see what, if anything, she had in her hands. Her body was tense, though, and (Y/N) had a feeling she was incredibly furious. The only problem was, why?

He assumed this was the maid of the manor, someone he'd never met but one of the servants he'd heard many things about. He'd imagined many ways he might've met her but this? This was not one of them.

Why was she defending him? What was she doing?

"Step away from him, Master Sebastian." She said, her voice even. There was a hidden...something there, however, underneath the calmness of her voice, and he wasn't sure what was worse—Mr Michaelis or this maid.

The butler stood straighter and even from his awkward angle, (Y/N) could see the shock on his face. But in the next second, it was gone, replaced quickly with a smirk. He stepped forward, hand curling inwards a little, and for a split second, he was sure the other man was about to attack the woman.

It was this fear that made (Y/N) lurch forward, aches long-forgotten in favour of hopefully taking the brunt of the attack. He wouldn't allow another person to get hurt because of him.

"Sebastian! My tea!" came the well-timed voice of the Earl, and it was like a switch had flipped. Mr Michaelis stopped and stood up, his smirk replaced with a gentle smile. Bowing, he turned and left back up the stairs.

(Y/N) wasn't sure what had happened or how he'd survived all of this, but what he did know was that he still had to go back home. He wasn't looking forward to that.

I just survived one hell, he thought, I'm not sure I'll survive that one.

(Y/N) turned back to the woman. She was still quite tense. In fact, she didn't relax until the butler was completely out of sight, and even then her shoulders were still raised just a little. Like she expected him to come back any second.

Still, there was an air about her that gave him the feeling she was only seconds away from collapsing, and unsure if she was about to, he stepped forward, hands outstretched. Moving, however, was the wrong thing to do, as his head decided to remind him.

Dizziness quickly washed over, blinding him for a moment. (Y/N) stumbled and fell, landing hard on the marble floor. Ugh, that hurt more than he thought.

Startled by the noise of his fall, the woman finally turned away from the stairs, plum-red pigtails bouncing at how quickly she turned. Her eyes went wide as soon as she saw him on the floor; she knelt down to fuss about.

Carefully, she shifted him into a sitting position. As her hands fluttered about to check for any injuries, he took the time to take her in and goodness, was she a beauty. She must have been an angel in fact.

She was just so beautiful, her eyes so kind and so very unlike the terrifying girl before. Her eyes, once covered by glasses, were now clear and he could see the hazel colour in them. They seemed to draw him in, and (Y/N) almost didn't want to look away.

Suddenly they went wide and he blinked— and then gasped as he shot backwards, his own eyes widening. He hadn't realised just how close he was leaning in. Their lips were almost touching!

"I'm so sorry!" (Y/N) exclaimed as the woman's face burned red. She let him go and fell backwards, scrambling a couple feet away. He groaned as he hit the ground again and his body ached twice as much.

Honestly, it was all his body was doing lately, aching like mad, and he just really wanted it to stop. A headache began to form and a wariness washed over him. He could fall asleep, right here on the floor, Master Abbott and Earl Phantomhive be damned.

The ground was cold enough to cool down his warm skin and maybe some sleep will do him some good. God knows he needed it.

The maid decided to reappear in front of him, though, halting his plans of sleep. Her face was now a faint pink and her eyes were a little less wide, a few strands of hair framing her round face. (Y/N) stared up at her, taking in the smile she gave him and he couldn't help but give a tired version back.

Finally, she stood and held out a hand to help him up, careful not to drop him again.

"Sorry for letting go, Master Abbott. Please, let me take you to the living room and I'll go and speak with the Master." Her voice was softer than before and it was a balm on his tired mind.

(Y/N) nodded, too tired to fight and caught up in the care he so rarely got to care about anything else. She guided him to the living room, gently pushing him down to the sofa and (Y/N) watched as she made sure he was comfortable before leaving.

Time passed by. He wasn't sure if it was quick or slow, he wasn't paying any attention. The part of his mind that was fogged with fatigue was thinking about warm brown eyes and a kind presence.

The room felt empty and cold without her, actually, and if he had been any more awake, he would've realised just how dangerous him still being here was. The butler could come back, finish what he began. The earl could realise his true identity. Someone could call Master Abbott, he could come and get him. The punishment he'd receive...

(Y/N) shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. Shoving those thoughts out of his mind, (Y/N) tried to focus on something else—warm eyes, kindness, a gentle smile—and soon his eyes began to droop lower and lower.

Fatigue finally took ahold and even the promised punishments awaiting him at home couldn't stop him from slipping off. He didn't care, he just wanted to sleep.

It took another hour before Meyrin finally managed to leave, having got the Master to finally agree with her plan. Stepping inside the room, she opened her mouth to speak, only to freeze. Oh, the young man was asleep.

Quietly, she stepped over to him. A peaceful expression softened his features and a warmth formed in the pit of her belly. Her heart skipped a beat. He was beautiful.

She frowned.

But she had a feeling this was the first proper sleep he'd gotten in a while. Well, she can wait until he was awake to explain.

There was no need to rush things—Master Ciel had already agreed to allow him to stay here, and though she wasn't sure how she knew neither she nor he had to worry about the real Master Abbott trying to take him away.

He was safe, here. She'd make sure of it.

She turned, left and reappeared with a warm blanket, draping it over his shivering form. The shivers subdued a little and the man snuggled deeper into the warmth.

Yeah, she'd protect him. He wouldn't ever go through the abuse she could so clearly see in his eyes, ever again.

And with a heart full of determination, she quietly left the room to prepare another room.

Chapter 4: halloween night | ciel phantomhive

Notes:

originally published: n/a

edited: 25/03/2020 (sort of, though about halfway through/nearer the end, I got bored)

pre-kuroshitsuji, so the characters are younger versions.

Chapter Text

To say you were excited would've been a gross understatement.

If anybody were to have asked how excited you were, you wouldn’t have been able to reply for you were practically bouncing in your seat. Even your mother kept giving you looks to stop, scolding you when you didn't.

It wasn't for lack of trying. You had, you just couldn't. Excitement won over.

The scenery of the forest surrounding the carriage faded in a blur of dull colours, and you stared out. Your mind remained elsewhere, however, as you pictured what the night ahead would involve.

It had become a tradition for your family to go around your mother’s best friend’s house, allowing your parents to catch up with the adults of the household while the children got to play.

Their son was a quiet boy. Ciel Phantomhive was his name and he preferred the confines of his own mind than anything. Still, there were times he came over and spoke to you, and you didn't mind when he didn't, taking advantage of the library to read. You were always in each other's company, though, and it never got awkward.

You liked spending time with him, no matter what it was you were doing. Of course, your parents took advantage of this and decided to arrange a marriage between both of you.

You would become (Y/N) Phantomhive at the age of sixteen, so they wanted you two to spend as much time as possible with each other, to get to know each other better.

You knew your parents were planning something that involved the two of you, but you didn't really care. You just liked his company.

The carriage came to a sudden stop and you lurched forward a little, stopped only by the nails you dug into the seat. You waited eagerly as the Phantomhive's butler opened the door for you and your parents and then wasted no time in running out, shouting a quick 'thank you' to Tanaka.

Your mother took her time, carefully stepping down the two steps. She held her dress up like a lady as she did so, and then waited for her husband before following after you. They were taking their time in reaching you, and you were almost tempted to tell them to hurry up.

But the door was already opening and your attention was taken by the maid who opened it, smiling down at you with a soft smile.

"Hello, my lord/lady.” She said and then stepped aside to let you in. You thanked her with a quick nod and a huge smile, running inside. You barely managed to skid to a stop on the marble floor when you saw Mr and Mrs Phantomhive walk into the room.

You hated these floors, especially when you were in a hurry; they were always so slippery.

"Don’t run, (Y/N)!” Your mother called out to you, not quite raising her voice though the annoyance made it sound louder anyway, and you winced, turning with an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Mother.” You answered, and your mother merely sighed.

Mrs Phantomhive chuckled and smiled down at you, waving to you. You bowed with your own polite smile and waved back, and when she complimented your choice of costume, you thanked you with a beaming, proud smile.

It was a dark blue outfit with ruffles on the sleeves to act as feathers, though you also added a pair of black wings and a black cape. 'I'm a witch Demon!' You had explained when your mother had questioned, and though she looked a little uncomfortable, she soon enough shrugged it away when your father came in wearing something similar, though he continued to say it was a 'vampire's costume'.

As you focused on your surroundings, trying to find the youngest Phantomhive, you wondered what his costume would be.

“Ciel is in the library." Rachel Phantomhive explained, catching on to who you were trying to find, "Why don’t you go say ‘hello’?” You nodded and ran up the stairs, down the hall and into the library.

“Ciel!” You exclaimed in happiness, only to pause at the wince he gave to your sudden entrance. You frowned. Oh, yes, he hates sudden surprises. Damn it, why did you forget?

"Sorry.” You said quietly with a sheepish frown and walked over to him, sitting down beside him. You took in what he was wearing; a brown shirt with a white waistcoat and jacket, the waistcoat buttoned up, and the shirt tucked into white, knee-length trousers. His usual dark almost-knee-length socks were held up with the usual clip and slipped over white, slight-heeled shoes. A black, white-striped mini top hat sat askew on his head. He looked quite nice, like a ghostly prince, and certainly the opposite of your dark outfit.

You were like polar opposites, and not just in costume. Though you didn't mind; sometimes, his quieter presence helped calm you. You suddenly remembered you were just staring at him and looked away.

"What are you reading?” You asked, curious as to what had captured his interest, and eager to get rid of the tension; and after a moment of silence, Ciel began his usual quiet speech of the book and what he loved about it.

For the first half of the night, you spent most of it with Ciel, just talking about different things (usually different books; he had currently been quite fond of the Sherlock Holmes series, which his mother didn’t want him reading but he continued to anyway), and it was nice. You were enjoying his company, and though it wasn’t as obvious - especially not to you -, he was enjoying yours, a light blush on his cheeks as you spoke.

When Tanaka finally arrived to announce the beginning of the party, you had to hold in the urge to run so you would walk alongside Ciel, who walked at a reluctant pace. He wasn't as excited about it, and you knew he hated crowds, especially the one's parties brought.

So you were trying to go at his pace, hoping to soothe any possible nerves he may have had about it.

Still, when you walked into the large ballroom to see the entire room had been decorated beautifully to fit the spooky night of Halloween, you couldn't help but jump in excitement.

Ciel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised at your antics and if you weren’t mistaken, a tiny smile formed on his face. You beamed at him and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the food table.

Most of the party-goers were currently mingling, so the food table was the least populated. You hoped it helped him ignore the crowds, and besides, you also wanted to try some of the food.

You took a biscuit iced with green icing, and bit into it, savouring the sweet taste. Ciel grabbed a biscuit too, biting into it, and he must have liked it if the little he gave was any indication. You laughed.

As always, Ciel loved his sugary things, and anything topped with sweet icing will definitely get his attention.

“Like it, Ciel?” You asked, wanting to see the blush on his face, and you did. His cheeks brightened and he looked away, quickly finishing the biscuit as if you would forget everything once it was gone. You wouldn't tease him though, you loved sugary things too.

The music suddenly started, orchestrated by Tanaka and a couple of the maids who played the piano, and your eyes widened at the idea of dancing. Quickly gulping down the biscuit, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, ignoring the look of disappointment your mother sent your way due to your rude behaviour and grabbed Ciel’s hand.

You moved to the edge of the dance floor, away from the rest of those dancing, and began dancing yourself. You let his hand go to get properly involved, bouncing and swaying to the noise.

You didn't care if you looked silly or childish. You were having fun. Though, you noticed Ciel wasn’t moving as much - if at all - and grabbed his hands, moving his arms back and forth a little to get him moving.

Finally, he gave in, focusing on your happiness and ignoring the looks the adults sent your way.

Ciel and you danced all night, only taking small breaks for food and drink. You had a fun night, even when Lady Elizabeth arrived with her parents and older brother, rushing into the area with wide eyes.

As soon as she saw Ciel, she had ran over, bumping you out of the way to tackle-hug the shy boy, and when he sent you a ‘help me’ look, you did, stepping forward to do... something.

What, you didn't know. Elizabeth was like a dog with a bone, especially when it came to Ciel, and trying to get anywhere near Ciel when she was there was a nightmare.

And for the rest of the night, she proved as difficult as ever. You ended up on the other side of the dance floor, sitting beside your parents and trying to ignore the feelings of annoyance and jealousy you didn't understand as you watched the other two.

Finally, it was quite late into the night. Lady Rachel announced that your family and Lady Elizabeth’s would be staying overnight due to how late it was, and though you tried to say you weren’t tired, that you still wanted the chance to continue playing with Ciel, your mind refused to cooperate with you and your mouth opened wide only for a yawn to come out, loud and clear.

Your mother chuckled and said, “Of course you’re not tired, my dear.”

You huffed and tried not to yawn again as you said, “Can I say goodnight to Ciel first, please?” You really wanted to see Ciel before you retired to bed because as soon as Elizabeth arrived, you hadn’t managed to spend as much pent any time with him, the girl determined to spend all of the night with him.

Your mother sighed and nodded, and you wasted no time in running off, not wanting to risk the chance your mother changed her mind.

“Ciel!” You called, making him stop and turn. His eyes lit up a little at the sight of you and you beamed, wrapping your arms around him as soon as you reached him. You were a little surprised when he didn't hesitate in hugging back but assumed he was just tired.

Though you didn't mind. The hug was nice and you almost didn't want to leave it, but you forced yourself to before it got awkward. As you pulled away, you pecked him on the cheek and then stood back.

“Goodnight Ciel.”

He flushed a bright crimson at the kiss, freezing, and for a moment you feared you had broken him. Then he nodded, gave you a peck of his own, and ran off. Your cheeks flushed bright red as your face almost split into a wide grin, but when your mother called, you followed and ignored the curious look she gave you.

When your mother tucked you into bed, saying goodnight, you responded and closed your eyes. You dreamt of a shy boy with eyes as bright as the darkest night sky and a smile that could turn wicked, and unknowingly, you hoped for a future with Ciel Phantomhive in it, a happy and peaceful one.

Chapter 5: massages | undertaker

Notes:

originally published: n/a

edited: 28/03/2020

Chapter Text

The stress was as clear as day.

Though he held no frown upon his face and no sigh escaped his lips, his smile dimmed a little, his fingers tapped a second longer, his eyes remained unfocused more often and his back was more hunched, more tensed.

It was easy to see but only because you knew him, not because he told you, the stubborn arse.

The Undertaker was, as stated, a stubborn man, and as far as he was concerned, if he did not need to say anything, he would not. It was just unfortunate that the things he deemed 'not worth' talking about weren't the same as you.

He'd pretend everything was okay if it meant he didn't have to 'worry' you, and honestly, it annoyed you to no end. It frustrated you even. You wanted to tell him he was being stupid, that he worried you more by not saying anything but you couldn't.

Trying to get Undertaker to talk about his problems was like trying to get an answer out of a brick wall.

But it wasn't as if you could just wait until he collapsed from the stress, and as long as he refused to speak, you couldn't even help take over some of the problems causing that stress.

So, you decided you'd take matters into your own hands and kill two birds with one stone; get him to explain what was going on while also getting him to relax.

After sneakily buying an ointment that supposedly helped relax tense muscles, you decided you needed tp practice first, and who better than Meyrin and Bard, the only ones of the Phantomhive's 'excellent' servants that were willing to let you massage them.

It wasn't even that hard to get them to agree; you'll help them do the duties they're terrible at and they let you message them.

You thought it went fine, in all honesty. You were even a little proud of yourself, you who had no previous lessons managing to massage like a pro. The two must have enjoyed it too, for they gave a shriek (Meyrin) and grunt (Bard) of surprised happiness.

You felt you were ready. So, determined and confident, you made sure you had everything and then waited for the right moment. After an eternity, the Undertaker finally sat as the moon shone down from the dark sky.

He must not have realised you were there, for the sigh he let slip through his lips was rugged and deep. His stress was more evident then, his shoulders hunched and painfully tensed.

You shook your head and focused on the task at hand. This just gave you more reason to do it now; you had to get rid of this stress, after all, and as soon as possible.

You shifted the curtain quietly, finally removing yourself from the back room, where you had waited (in)patiently for the Undertaker to finish up. The shuffle of fabric caught his attention and instantly, his whole demeanour changed; he smiled and stood, his arms held open for a hug.

But it didn't take a genius to see he was still tense and his eyes still held fatigue. You sighed and made sure to grab the ointment on your way over, placing it down on the counter once you were near enough.

You pushed him back down and sat in front of him, giving him a look when he made to stand again.

"Turn around and take your shirt and coat off." You demanded, giving him no room to disobey. You weren't going to dilly-dally and try any small-talk with him, because not only would it waste both of your time but the Undertaker would know something was wrong instantly.

Though, you realised a second later, maybe you came across a little too strongly, and maybe you should've been a little more gentle. He hated being ordered about, especially so strongly.

Fortunately - or maybe unfortunately-, he was too tired to protest and instead just huffed. He shifted in his seat to get comfortable before slipping his coat off with an air of seductive grace. He did the same with the shirt, and you weren't sure if he knew what he was doing or not.

He probably did, the bastard. Though you wouldn't say you minded.

Once everything was off, you took a moment to take in his pale-white skin, the faint scars almost translucent but you could see them still. You gently traced them without a second thought, and then paused when you felt him tense.

You quickly realised what you were doing and moved backwards with an apologetic look. He rolled his eyes but thankfully relaxed.

"Why, my dear, did I need to take my clothes off?" He finally asked, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Of course, he'd asked after taking his clothes off.

You ignored his question in order to show him, carefully pouring some of the ointment into your hands and rubbing them together to coat your hands better. Then you gently swung his chair around, ignoring his surprised expression, and placed your hands on his back.

Almost instantly, you could feel him tense and so you waited for him to relax again. It took a moment but eventually, he did so. You took it slow, making sure not to dig too deep or rub too hard.

With each gentle rub and nudge, you could feel the muscles slowly softening and you could see his eyes slip closed. Unbeknownst to yourself, though, his mouth was open in a silent gasp.

It was going fine, much better than with Mey-Rin and Bard, and you could feel your confidence rising... and then he moaned. It was a loud moan too, like something you'd expect from someone who was having sex; it was throaty, deep and pleasureful, loud and so goddam sudden, and because you weren't expecting it, you stopped.

There was a silence that followed that only served to make the situation more awkward- and then you quietly gulped and carried on. You continued to rub his muscles, mindful now to avoid any more moans, and the noises that did come out of his mouth were quiet enough to ignore.

As soon as you had finished, you stepped back, glad he was now more relaxed and rubbed your greasy hands on the apron you were forced to wear under the roof of the Undertaker.

Turning, you screwed the lid back onto the bottle, and when you turned back again, you were mindful not to stare into his eyes. You weren't sure what he was going to say or do about that moan; after all, it's not something you would not be embarrassed about.

"So, um-," You paused and then coughed, hoping to hide the little squeak your voice held, "- I hope that's helped a little. I've noticed you've been stressed- and don't even think about disagreeing. I've noticed, I'm not blind!" You snapped as he opened his mouth, possibly to protest, and just like that, your mind was off the subject of his moan.

He huffed and you rolled your eyes.

"Adrian, please, next time you feel ill or stressed, tell me so I can help. I'm not just here to help with the shop, remember? I'm here to make sure you don't kill yourself!"

He smirked over in your direction, and said, "Grim Reapers can't die, remember?"

You glared at him, hands clenching around the bottle as you resisted the urge to throw it at him, and said, "You know what I mean, idiot."

The Undertaker still had that smirk on his face when he stood up and you knew, despite his fringe covering his eyes, he had winked at you. He was just that type of idiot.

You huffed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, crushing you into his chest and you stayed there if only to stop him from seeing your crimson face.

"Don't worry, love. If it's that pleasurable any other time, I'm definitely telling you." He promised, and then leaned down to your ear, "Maybe we can do more than just massage each other too."

And yep, you definitely weren't staying here any longer.

Huffing, you pushed against him but he tightened his grip, causing both of you to go into a struggle. Neither of you minded, however, because shortly after that struggle, panting and giggly, you both went to the bedroom to do more than massage each other.