#tehgreatboo

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

I don’t know where your number is at soooooo —

Could you please write a fic with reader being trained by the phantomhive staff in self defense / defending the manor in general? Either all together or a mini story for mey rin, bard, Tanaka, Sebastian? I figured Finny would be more like your personal cheerleader?? Because he can’t exactly teach anyone to have super strength, ya feel? Please and thank you!!

this is sorta like a cross between the ideas?

I LOVE THEM ALL, YOUR HONOR

“There we are, that’s it! … Lord, (Name), y’ need t’ tighten up y’r aim a bit, y’ do. That was a bit sloppy.”

You offer a little wince as you turn back to MEY RIN, wondering exactly what she expects of you. This is your first time shooting a gun, after all! “S… sorry, ma’am. I’m trying.”

She nods understandingly. “No, no, I know y’ are. Y’ coulda done a lot worse, all things considered.”

Within only a few seconds, she’s swiftly at your back. Arms around you, she snaps your hands and gun into a slightly different position. She’s been doing this for so long, it must be almost like breathing to her, mustn’t it? You have to wonder how she’s not incredibly frustrated with a newcomer’s abilities.

“C’mere. Let’s see… good. Alright, gimme one more shot an’ we’ll take a li’l breather, alright? Don’t want y’ gettin’ all shaky or nothin’.” She gestures toward the target with her head, then moves to let go so you can shoot on your own. “Pretend that target’s an enemy. Someone what came along t’ do us all harm an’ threaten the master. Y’ don’t ask questions, y’ protect the manor. Shoot ‘em.”

That’s intimidating, but not inaccurate. You don’t want your new life to slip away; you straighten up, take aim, and pull the trigger.

It isn’t long before you move on, with the next person giving you a lesson being BARD.

It seems his preferred method of dealing with intruders is also a gun, just like Mey Rin, although he shows very clearly that he also has a fondness for… well… explosives. He also tells you point-blank that he tends to use guns at closer range than Mey Rin does.

Which you’d lean toward, you don’t even know. All you know is that the recoil from shooting a close-up target is painful. This isn’t something you’d want to do unless your life literally did depend on it.

That said, the explosives aren’t much better. Bard’s gotten very good at controlling the resulting fires, so having you light and throw one toward a target isn’t a problem. The biggest problem is that your hands shake on the matches, leading you to nearly burn yourself.

“That’s alright,” he sighs as he throws water over the last of the embers. “You did jus’ fine, alright? You’re a better shot than you are usin’ fire. So we’ll jus’ make sure you always have a gun nearby.”

“I’m sorry…” You cradle your almost-burnt hand to your chest. “I… suppose it could be worse, right?”

He nods. “That’s right. You’re doin’ fine. C’mon, go take five minutes in the garden with Finny an’ you’ll come back with fresh eyes.”

Off you pop, then.

When you go in the garden to find FINNY and relax for a few minutes, he looks all too happy to see you. It’s as if he was expecting that you’d need a break by this point.

You plop down next to him beneath the tree he’s sitting under, and almost immediately he hands you a freshly picked apple right from one of the branches. He gives you a smile, but doesn’t say anything right away.

The two of you have a snack in silence, then he finally speaks up. “Gets a little intense, don’t it? You don’t gotta worry, though ― from what I seen, you’re doin’ great.”

“Thanks, Finny…” Your shoulders droop a little and you let out a breath. “I just wish it wasn’t so much work. I wish I was just strong, like you, so I wouldn’t have to learn all this.”

He shrugs. “You don’t wanna be strong like me. You’re perfect on your own. It’d be different work, learnin’ how t’ control it, anyway.”

After a moment, he grins at you. “After the break, though, I could show you how t’ distract an intruder. I mean, just ‘cause I don’t use a weapon don’t mean I ain’t got nothin’ t’ teach you!”

… As soon as you finish your apple, you decide to take him up on that.

Because Finny doesn’t want to take up too much of your time, he keeps his lesson short, and shuffles you off to SEBASTIAN shortly afterwards.

The butler is undoubtedly even more intimidating than Mey Rin was when she was teaching you. There isn’t a thing on this estate that escapes Sebastian’s notice unless Ciel specifically orders him to turn a blind eye to something.

That would be worrying enough. He clearly expects you to sharpen your perception the way that he does. He leads you on a veritable tour of the entire estate, attempting (and quite often succeeding) to catch you off guard with attacks that a real enemy would try to use.

If nothing else, like the rest of the staff, Sebastian does take care not to actually hurt you. Well… he bruises your ego a little bit.

“You must keep your eyes a bit more open,” he says, clicking his tongue once you just narrowly avoid falling into the last trap he’s set for you. “If I had been a genuine intruder who got in quietly, you may have fallen to me.”

Still, his face softens when that damned observation of his catches how exhausted you are. It’s obvious he knows how hard you’ve been working. “You have one more day of training ahead of you. For now, what you’ve done will suffice. Go relax, and early to bed with you, because you can be certain you’ll be early to rise tomorrow.”

With one last bow, you trudge down the hallway toward the stairs, intending to head up to the room Ciel has assigned to you near the rest of the servants’.

Before you can get that far, TANAKA stops you. Without so much as word (but with his usual easygoing smile), he ushers you toward the kitchen. You’re bone tired by now, so you follow without any comment.

Once there, he takes a cup from one of the counters and presses it gently into your hands. “Here we are. Something to end your day on a good note ― give you a little soothing after all the effort you’ve been putting in.”

It’s warm against your fingers, the temperature on its own already seeping into all your aches. “O-oh… thank you, Tanaka. I appreciate it… you didn’t have to.”

“No, but you’ll find that the Phantomhive household is rather all about doing things we don’t have to,” he chuckles. “Take the tea up to your room. I’ll be along toward the end of the night to collect it so you don’t need to worry.”

Before you leave, however, he presses something else into your hand: a small blade, concealed within the design of an intricate skeleton key and designed to be flicked open quickly. “And take this, as well. Just in case you happen not to have a gun in reach should something happen. We’re all very proud of you, (Name).”

You give him a brief hug before pocketing the knife and heading up toward your room.

As you open the door to slip inside, the very last thing Ciel said to you echoes in your mind.

You are a Phantomhive servant now, (Name). Never forget that.

You don’t think there’s any way you could.

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Bard #Finny #Mey Rin #Sebastian #Tanaka #reader insert #platonic #drama #action #domestic #fluff #YES HI HELLO I LOVE IT #I was assuming they were all platonic but honestly they could be read as romantic; I just didn't tag em as such #ENJOOOOOOY #one hell of a queue

[cat3ch1sm]

🌲| what do prince soma+ agni look for in an s/o? <33 @tehgreatboo

prince soma

༊* appearance wise- he definitely has some high standards😭

༊* big boobs, small waist, fair skin, the whole package

༊* but most of the time, he doesn't need all of those things to be satisfied. that's just what catches his eye. he's more of a face person than a body person imo

༊* he loves long hair. agni won't let soma mess with his hair anymore so now he needs yours 🤲🏾 also the way it flows is just so nice to him, he could watch long hair for hours fr

༊* soma also is a huge fan of lots of jewelry. long necklaces, nose rings (within reasonable size), chokers, earrings- whatever, he's down, you're automatically sexy. also- unusually colored hair???? he wants to marry you

༊* personality wise: he wants a happy s/o who smiles a lot. he won't want someone who generally drags him down, he'll think it annoying

༊* he also would love someone who is really brave and somewhat reckless; someone who doesn't run away when things get dicey

༊* soma needs someone that's super affectionate and touchy! if u like to cuddle a lot and enjoy things like forehead and nose kisses then he's definitely the one for you

༊* i feel like being able to cook is also just like a prerequisite for dating soma- bonus points if u teach him how and if you help agni cook a lot as well<33

agni

༊* like soma, agni is a big fan of long hair. if your hair goes to your mid-back or lower, you'll catch his eye

༊* body wise, he doesn't really care. if he really loves you, he won't give your figure a second glance- although he does have some style preferences.

༊* unlike soma, he's not a fan of a super loud style- no super extravagant makeup, really "out-there" outfits, extreme hair colors, tattoos, piercings- it just isn't his thing. he'd rather someone simple but more elegant.

༊* long, flowing dresses and a simple necklace or two will be enough if you want to impress him. but if you often wear cultural clothing, no matter how extravagant, he will love it

༊* also, if you have a nice scent, Agni will be interested

༊* personality wise: agni wants a quieter, more thoughtful s/o who really makes him look at things in a different way. poetic people who think and speak very intricately really interest him

༊* he also would rather someone at least a little trained in self-defense. lowkey Agni has a thing for women who can kill him

༊* it's the little things for agni- he doesn't really want someone who's all about sex and passion and whatnot. he wants someone who will do things like help him brush his hair or walk through the park with him on sunny days

༊* have a strong moral compass as well. your beliefs probably need to align with his- if you're a liar or intentionally do things to harm people, he won't entertain that. however, he has a dark past as well, so chances are he'll try and help you

#prince soma #agni #agni x reader #prince soma x reader #black butler headcanons #prince soma x you #agni x you #kuroshitsuji headcanons #black butler

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hello again!! Tomorrow is my birthday 🙈 so I just wanted one more self indulgent request!!

Could I please request phantom fam (plus snake) x maid reader, who is the newest addition but has been a great addition to both the staff and the weird little family so they are all secretly throwing a lil surprise party? Like the whole ‘avoiding said person and giving weird awkward short answers’ to keep the party a secret? Then of coarse the reveal and cute cake?!?

Many thanks to you 🥰

I'm sorry I didn't get this out for your birthday this year, but I hope you had a good one!!

also AAAAAAAAAAA <3

When SNAKE scurries away from you with little provocation, you don’t really think much of it.

After all, the poor man is still adjusting to life here in the manor. (Similarly to you. If you’re remembering correctly, he arrived just a few weeks before you did.) Not only that, he seems quite skittish in general, so it’s no big surprise that he’s shying away from social interaction. As welcoming as you try to be, there’s only so far that can go toward someone who’s naturally anxious.

However, when FINNY makes an excuse as to why he can’t spare a moment to chat today, you find it odd. After all, that man is as sunshine as they come! He always has a minute to talk to you, to make jokes, maybe even give you a little hug. He’s never beat feet from you no matter how busy things are.

And SEBASTIAN and BARD have been acting strangely too, seemingly in tandem; Bard all but shoos you away from the kitchen, telling you Sebastian will bring you something to eat and a glass of water. Certainly, you can understand that Bard says he’s trying to concentrate on a complicated dish and so can’t have anyone else in the kitchen… it’s just odd that he’s suddenly so focused.

Sebastian is a strange case. He’s not one who engages in too much idle chitchat, so you can believe that he doesn’t want you distracting Bard. Still, something about it strikes you as very strange.

Then there’s MEY RIN, who nearly falls down a flight of stairs in an attempt to run off in the opposite direction when she sees you coming. Even when you try to hurry over to make sure she’s alright, she yells that she’s fine and she needs you to go remake the master’s bed because she mussed it up.

Honestly, your young master might be the worst. CIEL is a bit cold to most people, but today it’s as if he barely has a word for you. He keeps giving you short, clipped orders, without so much as glancing at you.

You like to think of yourself as a resilient person. Today, though… it feels almost as if the entire household wants nothing to do with you. That stings, especially today.

You’re sitting on Ciel’s bed which you’ve just remade, intending to smooth the bedclothes out one last time once you stand up. You can’t help wondering if you’ve done something wrong, or if perhaps your presence simply isn’t a good fit for this household after all. It’s unfortunate, really ― you thought you were getting on so well with everyone.

Maybe not. They’ve all made up some reason to not be around you today, and not one of them has remembered…

Before you know what’s happening, Finny is in the room, so fast it’s as if he were a bullet shot from a gun. “(Name)! (Name)! Come with me, hurry! We need you!”

“Wha ― Finny!!” He’s so terribly strong, all you can really do is let him pull you down the hall. “What’s going on?!”

By the time he stops to answer, the two of you are at the top of the stairs. He takes your hands, gently, and looks in your eyes rather earnestly. “I hope you can forgive us all, but I think we’re about to make up for how confused we’ve made you today!”

You shake your head. “What on Earth do you mean, Finny?”

“Close your eyes and I’ll lead you downstairs! C’mon!”

The only option you have is to do as he says, right? Your curiosity won’t let you just turn around or go down yourself. So you close your eyes, letting him lead you down.

Even after the two of you get down the stairs, he keeps walking you. “Can I open my eyes now, dear?”

“Almost! I’ll tell you when.” A few more steps, and… “Alright, alright! Open them!”

You oblige as he lets go of your hand. What you see when you open your eyes is… the whole rest of the staff gathered in the parlor, along with your master. There are a few decorations strewn about, and a painstakingly detailed two-tier cake sitting on the table.

What’s more, before you’ve even processed everything, everyone chimes in borderline practiced harmony: “Happy birthday, (Name)!” (Well, with the exception of Snake adding in a quiet, “Says Webster.”)

You’re surprised you don’t fall back flat on the floor.

Is this what they were all avoiding you today for? So they could catch you off guard after pretending like none of them remembered your birthday?

Quickly, your eyes start filling with tears, and your hands fly up to cover your face. Oh, it would be so embarrassing to cry in front of Ciel and your coworkers, but… “I-I thought you’d all forgotten…”

“Of course not, my lady.” Sebastian steps forward, reaching to replace Finny’s hands with his. “Our sincerest apologies for making you think that. We had to keep you away until everything was just so.”

“We wanted you t’ ‘ave a special first birthday with us, we did!” Mey Rin pipes up, giving you a bright smile.

Bard clicks his tongue as he lights up the single candle on the cake. “Oi, sorry, it took me way too damn long with the cake, even with Mister Sebastian’s help. We didn’t mean t’ keep you waitin’ quite this long.”

You almost don’t notice Snake walking up beside you, until he gives you a pat on the shoulder. “We’re both new here… says Webster. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one struggling to adjust.”

Ciel silences everyone else by stepping forward. “(Name). I want to officially welcome you to the estate. Like it or not, you’re a Phantomhive servant now. If you don’t feel you can carry yourself with pride for any other reason, do so for that reason.” You swear you see his lips quirk up briefly, though it’s gone as soon as you notice it. “That isn’t a request; that’s an order.”

Sebastian moves his hands from yours to set his on your shoulders, gingerly guiding you forward. “Come, come. You must be looking forward to your cake. Do be sure to make a wish as you blow out the candle, won’t you?”

You look around the room before nodding. You feel so overwhelmed, you don’t even know what to say. “Th… thank you, everyone. Mister Sebastian… Bard… Mey Rin… Finny… Snake… a-and… and Lord Phantomhive. Thank you so much. I… I can’t tell you how much all of this means to me…”

Well, the best gratitude is to make sure your wish is a good one, isn’t it? You take a breath, then lean forward and blow out the candle. Knowing Bard, you’re shocked it isn’t some kind of sparkler.

There’s a scattering of applause among everyone else as you lean back, then Sebastian moves around you to start cutting the cake.

“What did you wish for? Asks Donne.” Snake tilts his head at you, briefly, before eyeing the cake with the gaze of a child in a sweets shop.

“Oh, Snake, you can’t ask her that!” Mey Rin chides. “She can’t say! If she says what it was, it won’t come true!”

“It won’t?! No, I suppose it won’t, Donne…”

Surrounded by people who truly care about you, for the first time in a long time… you feel like you belong somewhere. And you feel like even if you say something, your wish will probably come true. But you’re not taking the chance, because you’ve never wanted a wish to come true more in your life.

I wish… I get to celebrate my birthday here with my new friends next year, too. And the year after that. And every year until they tire of my company.

(Though, you get the sense they never will.)

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Bard #Ciel #Finny #Mey Rin #Sebastian #Snake #reader insert #platonic #friendship #fluff #AAAAAAAAAA #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Fuck it. I really like how you write Undertaker so could you please do an undertaker x reader, dealers choice? Could be fluff, le comedy, or ANGST, surprise me 💕

I apparently jump on angst when it comes to Undertaker, OOPS-

You think endless years of life and loss have shattered your lover into pieces.

Whatever else he may be, you believe the UNDERTAKER is a very, very broken man.

How long has he even been alive for, you wonder? How many people has he lost over his lifetime? Other than the vague fact of, All of them. You don’t want to be another one, but… he knows better than anyone else the cycle of life and death.

It’s simply obvious that he thought he could put a halt to it.

It’s sad to watch him, as you see him now, in this derelict church, sitting among rotted pews and jagged pieces of smashed-in stained glass. There are vines and flowers everywhere; you get the distinct sense that he doesn’t think it’s a beautiful thing.

… This whole place. It reminds you of his heart. Maybe that’s why you assume he doesn’t think it’s beautiful, because he has a very low opinion of himself by this point.

Living has eroded his self-image to nothing, like water beating a rough stone until it’s perfectly polished. You think this place is beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way.

You think he’s beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way. In a contrast to this place, he hasn’t let the new blossoms of moving on grow over him. He’s rooted himself, allowing the memories of his losses to consume him and make growth impossible.

You lower yourself next to him, and it’s telling that he barely even moves. He doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t let his grip loosen a single bit on the chain of mourning lockets that are wrapped around his long nails and draped over his fingers.

God. You can only imagine what’s running through his mind.

You’re quiet as you lean your head against his shoulder. Any words you can think to say sound hollow when they ring in your skull, so you don’t say anything. You just sit, and exist next to the person you love more than anything in this world.

Finally, he’s the one to break the silence.

“It never gets better, y’ know.” His thumb runs over the locket resting in his palm. His eyes are weary, red-rimmed with the evidence of someone who’s cried until he has no tears left, and continued crying regardless.

You tilt your head with a soft hum. A request for elaboration.

The breath he takes is a gasp for air after breaking the surface of nearly drowning. “That’s what ev’ryone told me. ‘It’ll get better.’ ‘Time heals all wounds.’ ‘What do y’ think they’d want y’ t’ do?’”

His hand might crush the locket if that weren’t the very thing he’s been trying to avoid with every effort he’s made. “It’s a bunch of shite. It doesn’t get better. It never heals. An’ how the hell would anyone else know what they’d want me to do? There ain’t no movin’ past a hole in your chest that keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger, somethin’ that ain’t there but it feels so damn heavy y’ can’t get outta bed sometimes.”

He swallows, and it’s audible, and he finally turns to look at you. Fluorescent green eyes are only hidden from you by a film of tears. Suddenly, every scar you can see dotting his body makes you think he’s stitched together with nothing but memories.

As if that’s all he is anymore. A vessel for the memories of all the people he’s ever loved, instead of being the person he used to be.

“I don’t want to let go.” It’s spit out furiously, a response to a question you haven’t even asked yet. He brings the lockets close to his chest and curls into you. “They’re all gone now, (Name). My mum… my dad… the first one I loved… all the other family and friends and lovers I cared about since then…”

He looks up at you, pleading with you to understand.

“They’re gone,” he says in a voice that’s barely a whisper. “If I don’t remember ‘em… if my life goes on jus’ the same as it did before I lost ‘em… don’t that mean I didn’t actually love ‘em? But I did… I did, darlin’… jus’ like I love you.”

The way he says it makes it abundantly clear: if he thinks he didn’t love all those people, and that he didn’t love you, because he moved on after losing them, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Once again, everything you can think to say seems like a blade to shove and twist in his already gaping wounds.

So you put your arms around him, and hold his broken pieces together as best you can, and murmur a declaration that feels louder than it sounds. “I love you too, Adrian.”

#tehgreatboo #grief tw #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Undertaker #reader insert #romantic #drama #angst #hurt/comfort #UGHHHHHHHH MY HEART IS SPILLING OVER DAMMIT!!!! #I uh - I wrote this pretty fast and surprised myself?? damn XD #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

How’d’ya feel about doing a song fic with the song ‘Remember me’ and the character of your choice ? :3

how do I feel... I FEEL HURT, I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!!

I'm a little sorry for this, because it is HEAVILY angsty... please heed the trigger warnings I've tagged this with!!

DISCLAIMER: This is a songfic to the song “Remember Me” from Coco! I don’t own the song, don’t claim to, and am not profiting off this piece at all.

Remember me though I have to say goodbye remember me don’t let it make you cry

The UNDERTAKER thinks it’s a shame that the world will only ever know his very first child as Baby Girl Crevan.

A shame, because he had a name for her. If she had made it past her first year, (her first month), the world would have known her as something different. A unique person, with an identity, a name, a soul. Instead she’s a statistic, one more victim of disease who couldn’t be saved.

He had such high hopes. Her existence would have defied his very nature, proving that something which came from death could be so full of life. That was to be her name; Vitaliya.

Even now, he feels like he can’t believe that she’s gone. Even as he knows he has to eventually lower her into her casket, he doesn’t want to let go. Her tiny body fits so perfectly in his arms as it did every other time he held her while she was alive. She looks asleep, but he knows deep inside of him that she won’t be waking up this time.

There’s an echo in his chest, of a loss like this. Maybe a long time ago, maybe back when he was still human. Something that hurt just as badly as losing a daughter.

He has to bite down on his lip to keep tears from falling. It doesn’t work.

He cradles his baby girl for the last time, holding her close to his chest as his beloved comes up behind him. If there’s anything he’s ever wanted so badly not to do, it’s to put Vitaliya down.

for even if I’m far away I hold you in my heart I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart

This pain is… a void. It’s eating him up, the constant reminder that the body he’s holding isn’t really his daughter. It’s just the body that held her during her short time on Earth. This is how she appeared to him, though, to everyone, so he’s not sure how he’s supposed to not believe that her soul is still here in his arms.

As he looks at her precious little face, he wonders if she’s finally at peace. She wasn’t here for very long. She fought so hard, and she was just too young to prevail against the illness that ravaged her. It wasn’t fair what happened.

Does heaven exist? It must, mustn’t it? If he hadn’t ended his own life while he was human, he likes to think he was a good enough person that he would have gone there when he died.

The tears continue to fall as he can’t answer his own question of whether or not he will ever see his darling child again. If he dies now… where will he go? Can he still be saved and end up in heaven? Will he meet her there when he dies? Or is he doomed now, to a life of nothing? Neither heaven nor hell will take him, and he’ll never see Vitaliya again?

He wants to. Her soul is so far away now, in a place he can’t reach, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he never gets to see her again.

He rocks her in his arms, and he hums softly, the lullaby he sang to her as he and (Name) cared for her.

If he lives until every last star burns out of the sky, he’ll sing this song every night. To any other child he ever has, and to Vitaliya’s spirit if she might visit him in an empty room in the small hours of the morning when he has no one else.

remember me

though I have to travel far remember me each time you hear a sad guitar know that I’m with you the only way that I can be

The distance from his arms to the casket might as well be an ocean when he leans down to place Vitaliya in it. Once he and (Name) bury their daughter, he doesn’t know if he can ever come back to the cemetery. Just the thought of walking through gates and sitting at his child’s grave is one he can’t bear.

But if he doesn’t come back to visit her resting place, will he ever be near her again?

(Name)’s arms circle around him. They’re a protective embrace, a gentle reminder that the two of them don’t have to grieve alone.

As soon as their arms are around him, all he can say is, “I want her back, (Name).”

“I know, Adrian. So do I.” Their voice is quiet. It’s barely a whisper, ready to be swallowed by the nonexistent wind. It feels like their world exists in shades of grey now, like their daughter took all their color with her when she died. “But she’s not suffering anymore. And we’ll see her at heaven’s gates.”

Will they both? Or will it just be (Name)? Will he ever stand at those gates and walk in and his little Vitaliya, all grown up on the other side, will run at him so he can spin her round?

“I hope we will.” He reaches down, and a long nail strokes over his tiny angel’s cold cheek. “Papa’s here, Vitaliya. Always will be. Even though you’re not here anymore. I’ll be with you, always. Even if I gotta carry you around in my heart and not in my arms. I miss you, darlin’.”

(Name) presses their face into his shoulder and sobs. And he has to not fall apart for their sake, but he can’t hold himself together.

All he can do is weep, and cling to his beloved, and pray to whatever higher power that there is that he’ll get to hold his daughter again one day.

And when he does, he only hopes that she hasn’t forgotten the father she knew for only three and a half weeks on Earth.

Because no matter how long he lives, he will never forget the daughter he knew for only three and a half weeks on Earth, and forever in his heart.

until you’re in my arms again

remember me.

#child death tw #infant death tw #grief tw #tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Undertaker #scenario #platonic #romantic #familial #angst #UUUUUUUGH DAMMIT #it's possible I went a little overboard because this song and Coco make me cry #so now I have to make everyone else cry #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Could I request a snake x reader please? Reader is a newer addition to the circus (fortune teller) but was walking around in between patrons and noticed some hecklers ( 2-3 ) were kicking/throwing things at something on the ground. Upon closer inspection, she noticed they were tormenting a poor snake! Not on readers watch! Reader storms over with a wadded newspaper smacking the shit out of the boys and yelling “this poor baby isn’t bothering anybody, unlike YOU!Get outta here you creeps!!” before getting them to leave the snake alone. Thus commences the meet-cute between reader and Snake 💛 thank you

OK BUT MY HEART PLEASE I LOVE THIS........

You’ve traveled with a few different circus troupes in your life so far, but you’ve never really seen one so varied as Noah’s Ark.

Part of you tries not to get too terribly excited. You’ve only been here for a few days, after all, and if things go the typical way, you’ll stay for a couple of weeks, a couple of months, then you’ll drift away to find somewhere else to exist. It feels you never really fit in even among circus performers who don’t ‘fit in’ among societal norms.

Ah, well. Que sera, sera. That’s how life goes sometimes, and you might as well enjoy what company you can.

The crowds around your small tent waiting to see a glimpse of their futures have begun to dwindle. Feeling the need to stretch your legs anyway, you decide to leave your crystal ball and tarot cards for a bit. It’s just after a show, meaning that potential customers will be weaving in and out between all the different talents for at least another hour.

You’re almost jealous as you walk through the fairgrounds. The audience gets to wander around, wanting to get another look at their favorite performer or buy a handful of chestnuts or just listen to the fire-breather playing his harmonica… then they all get to go home. Most of them, at least. They spend some time among ‘the oddities’ of the world before going to sleep under a blanket inside four secure walls.

It’s hard to stay too lost in envy, though. You spot the tightrope walker playing what looks to be a game of follow the leader with some overexcited children who’d cheered when she pretended to fall on that thin wire during the show. She looks kind of like a big child herself, as if she’s in her element playing with them rather than in her element on the tightrope. The knife thrower is entertaining one of the audience members, a young lady who’s walking with a cane ― holding her steady and showing her how to aim at a target with a dull-pointed dart he’s handed her. You get the sense that girl is having the time of her life and is going to get some kind of little trinket as a reward whether she hits the target or not.

All of it brings a smile to your face. The people in this troupe are all so kind, aren’t they? You haven’t met any of the first-stringers face to face yet, but everyone else you’ve met has welcomed you pretty warmly. They seem to be a good bunch.

Your attention is grabbed by something not so kind, though. They sound like loud jeers, the kind people give when they’re laughing at some unfortunate soul’s misery. (Sadly, you’ve become accustomed to that.)

Turns out you’re not far off at all. There are three boys gathered around who you recognize as being among the people to boo when the snake dancer fumbled one of his moves during the performance. (It wasn’t a big deal, he recovered quickly, the show wasn’t ruined, and yet, some folks have to be rude.)

At first it’s not obvious what they’re doing. As you get closer, though, it becomes clear that two of them are throwing rocks and sticks at a decently-sized snake that’s on the ground. The third one of them is standing there with his hands in his pockets, chuckling, encouraging his friends to keep going.

About the time you make up your mind to get involved is the second that one of the boys reels back and actually kicks the poor creature. Although it wasn’t enough to send the snake flying very far, it was clearly hard enough to hurt. The snake was already hissing in response to the assault of rocks and sticks, and this only makes him rear back, before striking forward in an attempt to defend himself.

The boys instantly move back, though they’re all still snickering at the fact that they’re getting the little beast agitated. “Oi, careful! It’ll take y’r whole foot off, y’ moron!”

“Oi, y’rself! Gimme another rock, I’ll show it what for!”

“HEY! Just what the bloody hell do you lot think you’re doing?!” You have no real means of weaponry, so you grab the closest mostly-harmless thing you can find, which is a crumpled-up newspaper someone abandoned on the ground. After rolling it up, you march over and start swinging it at the boys. “You leave that poor snake alone!”

Almost as if they have no shame, the boys screech like banshees at being swatted. “The fuck, lady?! It’s just a stupid snake!”

“And you’re just a bunch of stupid boys, acting like bell-ends!” You get a few good hits in at all of them, and thankfully, the two who were actually throwing things decide to drop their ammunition. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?!”

“You’re crazy!” The ringleader of this little group of delinquents tries to kick at the snake again. “The damn thing tried to bite my foot off!”

You swat at him again, and this time you actually smack him on the head with the newspaper. “‘Bite your foot off’, my arse! Not only did he not try to bite you until after you hit him, I promise you, no snake is that hungry!”

“Ow, fuck you! What d’you care, anyway?! We’re payin’ customers, and that snake’s just a snake!”

“That snake’s just being a snake! You’re the ones who had to start torturing him! I’d call you all sons of bitches, but your mums probably tried to turn you into decent people and you just didn’t listen! This little snake ain’t bothering nobody, unlike you!” One more thwack that manages to hit all three of them, and your other hand points toward the exit. “Get out! Even if you paid me a hundred fuckin’ pounds to tell your fortunes, we don’t need people like you! Out! Move it!!”

With that, the trio make a break for it, all the while shouting about how you’re a hysterical bitch, but at least they’re gone.

… You think maybe you might have caused a scene. Rather than keep it going, you offer a huff, set the newspaper you were brandishing like a sword down on the nearest table, and crouch down toward the snake.

The poor thing is still coiled up, hissing softly, ready to strike at you because of how he was just tortured. You keep your hands away, and simply try to get a look at him to make sure he doesn’t have any serious wounds. A couple of scrapes, maybe… those will hopefully heal pretty quickly. “Aww, little thing,” you coo. “It’s alright…”

Before you can do much of anything else, the sound of someone’s boots in the dirt beside you catch your attention. A set of pale hands, with a few silvery scales over them, reach over toward the snake.

When you turn to look, you find… him. The snake dancer. There are a few other serpents draped over his shoulders, curled about him, almost pinning his snowy-white hair against his face.

“Shhhh.” His voice is low and even as he lifts the abused snake with both hands. He’s careful not to touch the creature’s head, instead keeping a firm but gentle grasp behind it, and supporting the rest of the snake’s body with his other hand. “Don’t be afraid. I’m a friend, and so is she. She chased off those bad ones who were hurting you. She won’t hurt you. Everything’s fine. You’re safe now.”

Heat rises in your cheeks, and you can scarcely take your eyes off him. You’re mesmerized by this simple man, speaking to the snake as if he’s another person, and you’re spellbound by how his words appear to make the serpent relax.

He was stunning even while you were watching the show from far away.

Up close, he’s beautiful.

He gently extends his arms toward you, seeming to offer the snake coiled around his arms a chance to interact with you. The creature flicks his small tongue in your direction, presses against the dancer’s skin for a moment, and then nuzzles his head against your hand once you lift it.

“How are you doing that?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, as you let your fingers almost pet this snake. “It’s like he understands you.”

All at once, the dancer’s face floods with pink, and instead of being confident as he was just now, he looks painfully shy. “He does.” His voice changes, his head gesturing toward the snake he’s holding. Does he… mean to talk for this animal?? “Thank you. Says…” He tilts his head briefly at the snake, then gives a small nod. “… Poe.”

“Poe? ― Oh, so that’s his name! You’re welcome, Poe. I’m glad you’re not hurt too badly.” You move your finger down to lightly stroke the underside of his face, like you might scratch under a cat’s chin. All things considered, he looks as if he doesn’t mind it at all. You shift your gaze back to the dancer. “So… his name is Poe. Mine’s (Name); I just joined up with you all a few days ago. What’s your name?”

One of the snakes around his neck hisses, and the dancer gives a breath of a chuckle from his nose before clearing his throat. His voice comes out in a cheeky, almost feminine falsetto. “Everyone just calls him SNAKE. … Says Emily.”

You smile, and reach over to cautiously take Poe in your own hands. He seems to be quite content with that, if the way he slithers up to rest on your chest is any indication. “Oh, I see. So that one there is Emily, then? I love it; I’m making so many new friends. It’s nice to meet you, Emily.”

Slowly, you get to your feet, and Snake mirrors the action. “And wonderful to meet you, Snake.” You nod your head toward the rest of the fairgrounds. “I should get back to my little booth. Would you like to walk with me?”

This time, he doesn’t say anything, although you don’t mind. He just gives you a flustered nod. You get the distinct feeling that, rather like snakes in general, he isn’t much used to people wanting to be around him. That doesn’t feel fair to you.

With Poe’s head resting on your collarbone and his tail coiled around your wrist, you fall into step beside Snake, heading back to your tent in a comfortable silence.

You think maybe you’ll have to stay here a while.

#animal abuse tw #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Snake #reader insert #romantic #first meeting #drama #fluff #does this count as hurt/comfort?? aaaaaaa babies- #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IT CAN'T BE HEALTHY #one hell of a queue #tehgreatboo

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Singing to the birds in the gardens with platonic! Finny. Bonus points for any use of Gaelic music but it doesn’t have to be 💛 thank you so much

did I understand the assignment and get extra credit??? 8D

I used a song called Crann úll!

You’ve noticed that while in the garden, your friend FINNY is very careful when it comes to the creatures who stop in for a moment.

You’re not sure where it comes from; a distant memory of something that happened a long time ago, or just from an inherent gentleness toward the whole world. (He seems to have that in spades, really. You’re not sure he has a mean bone in his body.)

Often when a bird lands on his shoulder, he carefully takes it, and moves it to rest on yours. He seems to like watching you that way, possibly because he knows that he has work to do. Your only job is to assist him, and if he doesn’t need any assistance at the moment, or if the two of you are taking a break, he appears charmed by looking at you with the birds.

You’re both resting at the moment, having been working quite hard for most of the morning. At least, for as long as you’ve been out here.

Predictably, Finny has put a couple of birds on your shoulders as well as your head. He’s just relaxing and watching you with them, though he does have one perched happily on his head as well.

After a moment of listening to them chirp, you let the humming you’ve been doing all morning blossom into singing.

“Ó, tá crann úll i lúb i mo ghairdín is suífidh muide síos le go gcuirfidh muid an fál air ar eaglach an óige ag titim i ngrá leis ’s nuair a bhogfaidh mise, bogfaidh tusa, bogfaidh muid le chéile ’s a chraoibhín aoibhinn álainn ó…”

As you sing, you reach to pet one of the birds on your shoulder with just your first finger. Despite not being pets, these creatures are pretty docile and receptive to touch. Maybe that’s why they like Finny, you think… they can tell he’s desperate to touch and be touched.

Sometimes, you wonder, with that incredible strength of his, if he’s just afraid of himself. It would be sad if he didn’t trust himself to be delicate with things. He always takes great care if he thinks he could hurt someone or something. (Even if there might be, well, accidents occasionally.)

“Oh, that’s so pretty!” Finny exclaims, and you can’t help but look over at him. Did you even realize he was listening? “What a language… it flows like a little stream in the woods! That song you’re singing, what is it about?”

You chuckle as the bird you were petting hops down to land on your wrist. “Well, it’s about a lot of things, I suppose? It’s about… a person who has a garden in their backyard, and there’s an apple tree. And they spend a lot of time there, whilst they fall in love with this young man who’s sweet on them. And they’re scared at first, because the feelings are so intense… but while they’re sitting on that branch of the apple tree with him, they decide they’d rather take the risk than miss out on love with him.”

Oh, that look on his face. He’s such a hopeless romantic, you almost feel sorry that the two of you don’t have feelings for each other. “That’s so beautiful…” He looks back in the direction of the trees toward the back of the manor’s exterior. “To fall for someone in an’ around an apple tree… God, I’d give anythin’ to have a love story like that.”

Somehow, you think he can also understand being afraid of the depth of a feeling. His strength is so vast, you believe there would be something wrong with him if he wasn’t frightened of it on occasion.

“I think you will someday.” You reach your wrist out, and when Finny leans forward, the bird jumps into his hands. “The right person will come along for you, just like they will for me. In the meantime, we have each other for a friend and the song to keep our dreams in sight. Shall I keep singing, then?”

He nods eagerly. Contrary to what he usually does, he keeps the little bird in his hands. His fingers stroke its head as if he’s trying to barely touch it.

You smile, and lean back. You’ll have to get back to work soon, but what’s the hurry?

“Ó, b’fhearr liomsa an gabha a bheadh go lom ón gceardchain a bhuailfeadh ’na hiúrdach go lúbach is go láidir a shaoródh an scilling is a d’ólfadh i dtigh an tábhairne ’s nuair a bhogfaidh mise, bogfaidh tusa, bogfaidh muid le chéile ’s a chraoibhín aoibhinn álainn ó…”

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Finny #Finnian #reader insert #platonic #friendship #fluff #slice of life #aaaaaaaaa he deserves the world!!!!!! #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Heeeeeeyyyy 👋

Could I please request platonic! Sisterly reader with freckles?? Maybe reader joined with Smile and Black as a fortune teller and grew really close right off the bat? YOU KNOW IM A SLUT FOR THE LULLABY TROPE-

So maybe reader has to room with freckles instead of Smile? :3

PLEASE AND THANK

aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAA!!!!

DISCLAIMER: This piece contains sections of lyrics from "The Call" by Regina Spektor! I don't own the song, am not claiming to, and am not profiting off this piece at all.

You came along with you master and coworker, and although you didn’t know you had any kind of talent with fortune telling, you suppose it’s good that you’ve got something up your sleeve.

As spellbound as you are by the entire circus, you’ve been all but claimed by this eager little waif who calls themself FRECKLES. For some reason they seem oddly charmed by you ― you wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that their face lit up when you proclaimed that they would be an incredible parent in the future. (You’re not sure that required any kind of divination. It’s plain to see that any child of theirs will be overwhelmingly loved.)

The ringleader, Joker, wanted your young master to room with Freckles, initially. However, they threw their arms around your neck and batted their eyelashes and asked if pretty please you could room with them instead. Apparently Joker just can’t say no to that face.

So here you are, trying to get settled in Freckles’ tent. It’s such a different environment from anything you’ve ever slept in, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Actually, when you lie down on the bed, it seems pretty comfortable.

“Oi! Gettin’ tired?” Freckles briefly flips themself down from the top bunk, holding out a few Funtom-brand lollipops. “’Ere y’ go, sis, pick one. Wanna make y’ feel welcome on y’r firs’ day!”

You tilt your head before laughing and taking your favorite flavor of the ones they’ve offered. “‘Sis’?”

They nod and retreat back onto their bunk, seeming to stretch out by the sound of things up there. “Mhm. I figured if I ever ‘ad a big sister, I’d want ‘er t’ be someone like y’. Is it alright if I call y’ that, then?”

All you can do is shrug. You tuck the lollipop away into the small bag you brought with you and stretch out yourself. “Aw, sure.” Who can blame you? Even in just the short time you’ve known them, Freckles has wormed their way into your heart. Just like you charmed them, they appear to have charmed you just as easily. “It’s late, so, big sister duties include reminding you to get plenty of sleep.”

“Hah! Alriiiight,” they say, and you can practically hear the pout in their voice. After a moment, they speak up again, a little more shyly. “Um, y’ know, (Name)… there’s this thing I ‘eard ‘bout big sisters ‘n’ mums ‘n’ all that doin’ that I kinda dreamed ‘bout a li’l. Maybe y’ could… do it f’r me?”

“Oh? What is it?”

Their response is equally as insecure as the initial request was. “Could y’… sing me a lullaby? I mean, I know I’m an adult ‘n’ all, but… I dunno… it’s jus’ somethin’ I thought sounded kinda nice.”

You let out a small chuckle. Is that all? “Well, I can’t promise my voice is much good, but I can try. Are you all comfy?”

“Mhm!”

“Alright, close your eyes.”

They snort. “I only got the one, but done.”

“Good, good. Just relax, then.”

You can hear them breathing gently above you, and you start to sing quietly.

“It started out as a feeling which then grew into a hope which then turned into a quiet thought which then turned into a quiet word and then that word grew louder and louder till it was a battle cry I’ll come back when you call me no need to say goodbye just because everything’s changing doesn’t mean it’s never been this way before all you can do is try to know who your friends are as you head off to the war pick a star on the dark horizon and follow the light you’ll come back when it’s over no need to say goodbye…”

You don’t even need to get to the very last verse. As your voice trails off a bit, they’re already starting to snore. Evidently the ‘big-sister-sings-them-to-sleep’ dream was every bit as calming as they’d imagined it would be.

You smile and close your eyes, intending to get some sleep yourself.

“You’ll come back when they call you no need to say goodbye…”

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Doll/Freckles #reader insert #platonic #fluff #UGHHHH this whole troupe deserves a big sis <3 #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

I thrist for Bard, and I thirst for your requests to get to 200! May I please request angsty pining with a little fluff?

I think it’d be so cute to have reader pine for him, reader is in their early 20s and since he’s like late 30s/early 40s. Maybe they confess or kiss and him just being like “damn I still got it” but also feeling like they really should move on and find someone else who’s also young to enjoy all of life’s adventures with? Does that make sense ? 😂 please do with this what you can. Sculpt my thought-clay into literary art. Thank you ☺️

aaaaaaaaa my heart, thank u for letting me make this food! XD

You know you can always find BARD outside at night. Just before bed, he never fails to have one last cigarette, standing out in the dark by the manor’s front steps.

Sometimes you’re tempted to ask him if you could have one, simply to see how he might react. It already seems that he thinks being around him is enough to influence you into things that he thinks are too mature for you; what would he do if he thought seeing him smoke would make you want to try it?

You don’t think you really want to do that, though. As funny as it would be, he stresses about enough as it is. So instead you venture out only to stand next to him.

“Lovely night, huh?” You lean your head back, pretending to get a look at the stars. (… Well. They are rather impressive.)

He glances over, appearing to not be too startled that you’re here. It’s a lot of life and a lot of things he’s been through, so it makes sense that he doesn’t really scared easily. His guard is always a little bit up, you think. “Oh, (Name). Yeah… I guess it is.” He takes another puff off his cigarette, then drops it to the top step so he can grind it under his shoe and make sure it’s put out. “Been a long day, so, nice t’ have the stars t’ count on. They’ll come an’ shine out no matter how tired they are.”

The last curls of smoke that come out as he speaks might as well be the same stars he’s talking about, from the way you watch it dance and disappear. “The same could be said of us, I think. We always wake up and get to work, even if we’re tired.”

“S’pose that ain’t far off.” He glances over at you curiously, raising an eyebrow. “You come out here t’ look at ‘em? Never noticed you doin’ that before.”

Ah. He’s found you out. That’s the downside to having feelings for someone who’s a good bit older than you ― he probably knows you have ulterior motives than just wanting to come stargaze.

You keep your eyes on the sky for a moment before turning your gaze toward him. “No, I don’t usually. Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

He tilts his head. “’Bout what?”

… Surely he can’t be this clueless, can he? He’s not a stupid man. He has to have made note of the way you interact with him compared to the way you interact with the rest of the household. The way you sometimes poke over his shoulder to ask what he’s cooking, or let your hand linger a bit when you take the tea from him to set on the tray, or, God, the way you smile at him in great contrast to the way you smile at anyone else.

He’s observant with the reason you were outside. Why not with the fact that you feel for him?

“Do you… have anyone in your life? I mean… someone you’d like to make time with, you know?” Please. Please don’t make me have to spell it out for him.

He levels himself away from the wall with a chuckle. “Eh, not anymore. If you need some advice with someone, I can give it a shot, but…”

Fuck. No. No, there’s no way he can be this dense, is there? You’ve nearly slapped him in the face with it.

You push yourself away from the wall as well, and set a hand on his chest to keep him from going anywhere. “I’m not entirely sure that I need advice. What I need is for you to understand that you’re the one I’d like to make time with. We’re inside together in the manor all day, I know, but… I mean… I mean just us. If you don’t have anyone else…”

“… Oh. Oh.” His hand comes down to circle your wrist. He’s quite gentle with you, and he doesn’t seem sure whether he wants to move your hand away or just hold it. The way he stares down at you, for what feels like a long time, is so intense. It’s like he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

At last, he finds his words. “Ain’t I… you know… a little too old for you? I… I mean, it’s flatterin’ and all, but I… must be at least fifteen years older’n you. Don’t you want someone more round your age? Someone who can keep up with you?”

You frown, and keep your hand where it is. In fact, you take a step closer. “No. I want you. And I don’t know… I think you could keep up with me just fine.”

“You think, huh?” He bites his lip, letting his hand move from your wrist up closer to your fingers. “C’mon. You don’t really want me, do you? I’m old as dirt.”

“Oh, you are not,” you huff. “Why don’t we just see how you react if we kiss? If you don’t feel anything, then fine, you’re too old for me. But if you feel something…” You move your hand back so that you can twine your fingers with his. “Couldn’t we try, then?”

So the two of you lean in, and regardless of what else happens, all you can do is pray that he feels something.

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Bard #Bardroy #reader insert #romantic #fluff #angst #drama #UGH CUTE INDEED! <3 #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

HEEEEYYY Can i also please request ANGST with Wolfram x reader with reader escaping in route with snake and bard and ‘sieglinde’

Reader tag teams Wolfram with the help of Bard, and before he attacks snake/‘siggy’ he and reader share a little dialogue mid fight (where it also seems like he’s going easy on reader… for some romantic reasons Mayhaps?) and reader speaks little German but just yells like “How could you?!” “She’s just a child!” “You crippled a little girl!”

Then maybe after his sacrifice he and reader slowly start to grow close again? MANY THANK.

MANY THANK TO YOU

when you're crying over this, remember: YOU MADE ME WRITE IT WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS

Your part in the plan to get Sieglinde to safety is because you care deeply about her, of course.

But it’s also because you don’t think WOLFRAM has the guts to point a gun at your head.

For some reason you have yet to fathom, the two of you started to bond while you and your master and friends have been here in Germany. As grumpy and rigid as he seemed, you thought there was something kind lurking under that. You wonder if he fooled you, too, with the way he showed you little glimpses of something like that.

Regardless, you’re sure he’d be fine being on even footing with just Bard. No qualms about shooting, swinging, punching, at him. At you, though? Everyone else has seen the way Wolfram looks at you. The quiet, borderline romantic moments you’ve shared.

There’s no way he could shoot at you without being indecisive, and that is exactly what this situation needs. The more you can distract him, the more times he hesitates to make a move, the more chance you have of getting Sieglinde out of this forest alive.

You’re not as comfortable with a gun in your hand as Bard is. The unfortunate truth is that the effect of this goes both ways; it’s difficult for you to aim your weapon at Wolfram. Even though you have this gun, you’re hoping to serve as a diversion more than anything. When all is said and done, as angry as you are with him, you don’t want him dead.

It wasn’t so long ago that you remember how he looked at you when you were laughing at something, as if suddenly it was the first time he’d ever heard a person laugh. Or when you woke up to him carrying you back to your bed, because you’d fallen asleep after reading to Sieglinde one night.

Your brain knows that you should be ruthless if you want to avoid the risk that he won’t let you leave with Sieglinde. Your heart, unfortunately, is very, very stupid, and still cares as deeply about this man as it does about her.

All you have to do is run and fire warning shots, enough to keep Wolfram’s attention so that Bard can set up something he thinks will stop this soldier. You’re more terrified than you’ve ever been in your life… and yet, your anger at his role in Sieglinde’s imprisonment carries you.

What was he thinking? Doesn’t he care about her? He must. He doesn’t treat her like some thing, he treats her gently.

So why? The lack of an answer gnaws at you more than anything.

This is not some emotionless warrior who wants to keep her locked away forever. What you know happened is at odds with what you’ve seen while you’ve stayed here.

You just don’t understand. Wolfram as a person embodies the concept of sweetness in simplicity. Has he just been pretending? Is he really some kind of… cold-hearted mastermind?

The explosion of Bard’s making snaps you out of your thoughts, and you think there’s no way that Wolfram could get up completely fine from it. Your gun falls from shaking hands, your heart violently hoping that he’ll stay down. Hoping that all of this is going to be over.

(You just pray he isn’t dead.)

When he emerges from the smoke with only a few scratches and singes, you can scarcely believe it. Your hands refuse to pick your gun back up, and instead you watch him tangle with your friend for what feels like an eternity.

It’s as if your whole world is spinning out of control. You thought you’d finally found someone who you might want to share your life with, someone kind who felt the same, then… he has his own secrets that have come to light, something you never could have expected. You feel betrayed for yourself, and you feel betrayed for Sieglinde who you’ve begun to view as a daughter.

And to make it worse, as betrayed as you feel, there is no part of you that wishes Wolfram to die. In fact, a very large part of you clings to the hope that he’ll repent, he’ll do something to be a better person, he’ll… turn into some fairytale prince.

You hate that your mind is even giving you the possibility of things working out. This is real life, not a story. The fact that you want a happy ending doesn’t make a difference to what’s actually going to happen.

What’s real anymore, anyway? Were his feelings real? Anything he said to you? Was the way he looked at you and said he could see “so many colors” real?

In the blink of an eye, Wolfram has broken away from his battle with Bard, and you have precious few seconds to keep him from going anywhere. The more time you can give everyone, the better. You don’t know what you intend to do without your gun, but you rush forward to stop him anyway.

Your bare hands clash against his shoulders, your whole self trying to hold him back. He can’t do anything to you. The way his eyes flash at you in surprise spell it out for you if there was any doubt: unlike Bard, you are someone Wolfram isn’t willing to hurt.

Too bad you’ve already done that by lying to me.

“How could you?!” Your voice comes out shrill, too high, and you realize it’s because you’ve started to cry. This whole situation has become too much. Although you’ve been learning German from being here, you don’t know how to accurately express every bit of your rage and pain without doing it in your native language.

It’s awful and raw and you hate it. Obviously you didn’t get a chance to really talk with Wolfram about anything, so it all comes out in the way that a pot boils over.

Much as you push against him, you know you’re getting nowhere. He’s solid muscle, too strong for you to make a dent in keeping him in place. Still he struggles against you, as if your force is doing anything.

He acts as if you’ve stabbed him when you start to pound at his chest and shoulders. His eyes widen, reflecting the betrayal that you’ve been feeling this whole time. “You helped them cripple her and keep her here!” you continue to shout, your soul leaching out into every word. “She’s just a little girl! How could you?! How could you?!”

That seems to be all you can say.

You need him to tell you. You need this all to make sense, because it doesn’t.

You’re not sure where exactly you fail, but all you know is that you do.

He gets by you, he discovers that you’ve tricked him too, and the rest of your plan goes off without a hitch.

Right up until Wolfram ends up getting shot.

You don’t know if it’s better or worse that it isn’t you who shot him. It comes right after he’s started to beg Sieglinde’s forgiveness, and whatever else is true, you don’t want to lose him.

The last thing you do, before Sebastian drags him under Ciel’s order onto the train, is to scream Wolfram’s name and collapse at his side.

Life proves, once again, that it is no fairytale.

The train ride is long and torturous. You’re not sure when you stop crying, only that after several moments, Sebastian escorts you away from Wolfram and Sieglinde so you can calm down.

You don’t really calm down, though. Not until you’re well settled into your lodgings for the night. That comes with the added benefit that a doctor has looked at Wolfram, courtesy of your host Diedrich.

He’s going to be fine, most likely, and Sieglinde was taken in to speak to him. You’ve been nervous to do so; after all, you remember saying and thinking some terrible things to him. Even though his role in what happened to Sieglinde can’t be erased, there’s no denying that he loves her.

He knows what he did was wrong. He was willing to die just so that she would know the truth. If you think of her as your daughter, she was his first.

You slip into the room quietly, lowering yourself down onto the bed. You think your heart is much less stupid than before… at least, not stupid for caring about him. All of this is so complicated, and you can’t just call him a bad man when it seems he’s as much a victim of his superiors as Sieglinde.

“I don’t know,” you muse, reaching to run a hand through his hair, “a scar or two would suit you. But I’m also glad you’re probably going to escape without any.”

A puff of air is blown through his nose, that strikes you as the closest to a laugh he can muster up right now. He mutters something in German that you don’t quite catch before switching to English. “Scars are ugly. Would suit me very nice.”

… God, that’s not what you meant at all. This poor man. “No, scars aren’t ugly. And neither are you. Not inside nor out. What you did was very brave. Thank you for making sure our girl knew the truth.”

Your hand traces down from his hair to gently cup his cheek. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand.”

“No… you understood. Not all, maybe, but you understood.” He shakes his head, though his expression clearly shows he’s melting into your touch. “I’m sorry. For lies, and… everything. Hurting you and Sieglinde… makes me very bad. It was the thing I never wanted to do, but… I did it.”

You lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “… You’re not a bad person, Wolfram. You made a mistake, you did bad things, but you are not a bad person. You know it was wrong, and you’ve apologized, and you’re going to try to do better. Aren’t you?”

He looks almost like that kiss hurt him. As if it was something so new, so pleasant, that it was actually painful. “Ja. Better. Old Wolfram was shot and died. From now, I will be someone different.”

“Well, not entirely different, no?” You reach to set your hand, lightly, atop the injury on his wrist. “The old Wolfram was the one I fell for, after all. Maybe just be a better version of yourself than someone different.”

His face colors, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. “(Name)… you still want… me?”

Your fingers twine carefully around his. “Yes. I still want you. And we’ll figure everything else out, as long as… as long as you want me, too.”

“Bitte.” His hand squeezes yours. “More than I have wanted anything.”

Maybe life isn’t a fairytale.

But somehow, you think you might get a happily ever after anyway.

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Wolfram #Wolfram Geltzer #reader insert #romantic #angst #drama #hurt/comfort #AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Alright you called me out with that “there’s no such thing as too many requests” so imma do just ONE MORE for the absolute unit Wolfram and the golden minded Sieglinde. He x motherly reader where reader sings a lullaby to sieglinde one night. I personally find Irish/scottish lullabies to be *chefs kiss* so I beg you to listen to the song Einíní, or at the very least use the lyrics for it in the fic somehow (maybe reader explains their own heritage and history to the very curious sparkly eyed sieglinde??) http://songbat.com/archive/songs/irish/einini

Okay Ty and I’ll go jump off into the abyss now 🙈

all I have to say is this: MY HEAAAAAAART!!!!!!

“… weißt du, wie viel Kinder frühe stehen aus ihrem Bettlein auf dass sie ohne Sorg und Mühe fröhlich sind im Tageslauf Gott im Himmel hat an allen seine Lust, Sein Wohlgefallen kennt auch dich und hat dich lieb kennt auch dich und hat dich lieb…”

When everything else has been taken care of, the only thing that’s left to do in the evening is sing Sieglinde to sleep. Most of the time, WOLFRAM takes care of that; he knows more German lullabies than you do, and which ones seem to comfort her most.

You can’t really say you mind. Aside from this, you don’t get many chances to hear your husband singing, which is a shame. He’s very shy about it, but he’s got a voice like dark velvet, dripping like honey over your entire being. It’s no surprise why Sieglinde loves when he sings to her, because when you listen to him, it’s like no problem or struggle matters.

This one, you’ve learned well enough. It’s calming and soft, especially the way he sings it. Thanks to the two of them, too, you’ve picked up enough German to be able to rough out a translation in English which matches the melody.

For a moment, you’ve been lingering by the door watching and listening, with a hand over your currently very pregnant stomach. You’re sure you’ve begun to hum, given that Sieglinde keeps switching her gaze from him to you. The last verse that Wolfram ever sings is the same as the first, so as he fades into the last of it, you step in and add your own voice in English.

“Can you count the stars that brightly twinkle in the midnight sky? Can you count the clouds, so lightly o’er the meadows floating by? God the Lord doth mark their number with His eyes that never slumber He hath made them, every one He hath made them, every one.”

Almost as soon as you settle down next to Wolfram on the bed, he’s slipped an arm around you and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. You like that he seems to smile so much more readily in moments like these. “Liebling, you should be resting,” he murmurs against your hair.

“Shush, love, I’m alright. Besides, I missed you two.” You reach down, tucking the covers up under Sieglinde’s chin a little more tightly. “Do you need one more song to get you drifting off, sweetheart?”

She gives a sleepy nod and pops one arm out of your expertly-tucked blanket to rub at her eyes. “You don’t speak so much German, Mutti. Does your language have a lullaby?”

You giggle. “All languages have lullabies, my dear. Do you want one of mine?”

“Mhm. What will it be about?”

A thoughtful hum leaves you, your fingers gently carding through her hair. Well, which one should you choose? “Let’s see… I think the one about a mother bird singing to all her little birds to go to sleep. There are lots of different kinds of birds in the nest by a wall outside, but she’s being a mother to them all and telling them it’s time to go to sleep.”

Sieglinde offers what you think is a noise of approval. “So maybe I am like a little bird, then?”

“Haha… you’re such a smart little girl.” Although it’s difficult with how big your middle has become, you manage to duck down and give her a kiss on the forehead. (She’s already gotten one from Wolfram, you know, and she refuses to sleep until she gets one from both of you.) “Now, close your eyes.”

Only when she’s done so do you begin to sing. The whole time, you make sure to keep playing with her hair, in the hope that it will lull her even further.

“Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí, codalaígí éiníní, éiníní codalaígí, codalaígí codalaígí, codalaígí cois an chlaí amuigh cois an chlaí amuigh codalaígí, codalaígí cois an chlaí amuigh cois an chlaí amuigh…”

Wolfram’s arm tightens a little more around you ― protective, strong, loving. Just the way he touches you like this makes you wonder if your voice has the same effect on him that his has on you. He’s even leaning his head lightly against your shoulder, and you get the sense that his eyes want to close if they haven’t already.

Sieglinde, meanwhile, is starting to breathe a little quieter. That usually means she’s beginning to let sleep wrap its gentle embrace around her. She’s clearly listening to you with rapt attention, though, her head tilted so that one ear is turned eagerly toward you.

“An londubh is an fiach dubh, téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh an chéirseach is an préachán, téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh codalaígí, codalaígí codalaígí, codalaígí cois an chlaí amuigh cois an chlaí amuigh codalaígí, codalaígí cois an chlaí amuigh cois an chlaí amuigh…”

Really, Sieglinde does remind you of a little bird just like in the lullaby. You and Wolfram have cozied her up in the ‘nest’, cuddled around her and singing in an effort to relax her enough so that she drifts off. It makes you happier than you know how to describe to be able to have moments like this with her.

… And with Wolfram. He’s the brightest star in the sky to you; as he says it, your ‘one and only’, the person you’ve been waiting your whole life to be with.

When he shifts your position around, he sets his hand on your stomach. You’re almost certain you feel the baby inside you kick in response, knowing their father is near and trying to get closer. He’s felt it many times already, but it looks like it still makes him feel so much.

These are your perfect days. Perfect nights, fading into perfect mornings and perfect afternoons and perfect evenings.

You can’t wait to go to sleep, so that you can wake up again.

“An spideog is an fhuiseog téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh an dreoilín is an smóilín, téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh codalaígí, codalaígí codalaígí, codalaígí cois an chlaí amuigh cois an chlaí amuigh codalaígí, codalaígí cois an chlaí amuigh cois an chlaí amuigh.”

After humming the melody a few more times, Wolfram carefully guides you onto your feet. Sometimes Sieglinde complains a bit if the two of you leave before she’s sufficiently asleep, though it appears she’s nearly there. She’s old enough that she can fall the rest of the way herself, now that the two of you have led her most of the way into a dream.

Both of you are at the door when she speaks up quietly. “Mmmh… goodnight, Vati. Goodnight, Mutti. I love you both.”

You have to turn in and press yourself to Wolfram’s chest simply so you don’t start squealing in delight. Not only is it the most precious scene in the world, you also adore it when she calls you Mutti. Getting too worked up will just undo all your hard work, unfortunately. “Goodnight, darling,” you call softly.

“We love you too,” Wolfram adds. “Goodnight, our little bird. Sweetest dreams.”

With that, he blows out the final candle on the dresser by the door, and the two of you slip out so she can sleep.

You’ve only just gotten into the hall when you throw your arms around Wolfram’s neck and kiss him. Sometimes you wish you could just do this forever. The rest of the world can wait a while, can’t it?

“I love our life so much, Wolfram.” You sigh as you lean against him… and in the next breath he’s scooped you up in his arms. You know he’s just going to carry you to bed, probably convinced you’ve had enough of being on your feet for one day. For once, you’re not going to stop him from doing it. “Aren’t you excited we’re going to have another little bird in our nest soon?”

“Ja, of course. When will she be here? The waiting has been long enough, hasn’t it?” It doesn’t even feel like he’s walking with you. It’s like he’s floating, gliding along the floor toward your bedroom.

You chuckle, closing your eyes as your head comes to rest on his shoulder. “Well, I feel like I’m set to pop any day now. When I do, how are we ever going to contain Sieglinde’s joy? She’s so ready to be a big sister.”

There’s a vibration of a low laugh rumbling in your ears as he sits down on the bed with you. “… Thank you. For being so good to her.”

A part of you feels a little sad that he feels he has to thank you for that. You love that little girl. Anyone who’s a piece of Wolfram’s life has to, or he won’t let them in, and you don’t understand how some people can’t love her. “She’s my daughter, Wolfram. I love her.”

“Ja… thank you for it. For loving us.” He snuggles you close, being so delicate with you, and nestles his face into your hair. For a long moment, you wonder if he’s going to say anything else. Then he hums briefly.

“Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí, codalaígí…”

His accent is terrible, but you fall asleep in his arms regardless.

#tehgreatboo #pregnancy tw #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Wolfram #Sieglinde #reader insert #romantic #platonic #familial #fluff #domestic #slice of life #MY HEAAAAART!!!!!!!! #I LOVE IT SO MUCH #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hey ! You are awesome so I’d like to request —- A FREE BEE FOR YOU!! Any character, any situation, just something you’ve been dying to write or maybe a cute lil idea you’ve had? I love your world building so I know I won’t be disappointed. I hope this doesn’t come across as extra work, but if so then your free bee could be to just take it easy and not write if you want :) have a nice day 💜

FREE THE BEES-

aaaaanywaaaaaay!! this is like handing me a blank check, I hope you know XD

sooooo since you said you love the worldbuilding... I've been wanting to write one of my OCs more, this is Marlowe who's a genderfluid under-butler at the Phantmohive estate!

and, well, this is what happened when Finny first came to stay there :D

also all I heard was "angst me Mommy" so I sincerely apologize but also it's not that sincere =)

The Phantomhive estate is quiet when MARLOWE wakes up.

They sit straight up in bed, unsure of what exactly woke them. A glance over at Mey Rin’s bed reveals that the maid is still asleep, and barely snoring, so it couldn’t have been her. It wasn’t a nightmare of patchwork memories, either.

All they can think of is that perhaps they’re on edge after a new arrival to the manor. A young man that their master gave the name FINNIAN, who has the same loss of hope and want for it in his eyes that Marlowe had once upon a time. (The same that they think Mey Rin and Bard must have had too, and maybe even Sebastian, when they were first taken in.)

This is the first time since they’ve been in Ciel’s employ that someone new has joined the servants’ ranks. It’s only been about six months, so despite being settled in, they’re relatively new themself; twenty-four years of life behind them and the best in front of them. Finnian looks to be at least five years their younger, maybe more than that.

As they slip out of bed, their mind flickers back to the introduction they and the rest of the staff had with him. His hair is incredibly short, like someone cut all of it away and it’s only beginning to grow back. He seems hesitant to make any big movements or show any big emotions.

They remember what it was like when they were swept away to the manor. They were nervous about talking to Mey Rin and Bard. All they could do was follow Sebastian round like a lost puppy, taking his orders and mimicking his actions in the hope that they could become someone worthy of being saved.

They can recall washing seven years’ worth of the East End off them, scrubbing so hard their skin turned red. Changing into the masculine clothing provided for them and the sheer relief at being reminded that they wouldn’t be forced into a dress, because that was not a butler’s uniform.

… The world can be so cruel. Knowing what they went through before they got here, it makes them wonder what poor Finnian has been through.

Their simple silver lighter and a cigarette are both drawn from their bedside drawer while they head out the door. If they can’t sleep, they might as well smoke.

It’s of course not proper to do so inside the young master’s home, especially given his condition, so they always go outside to kill a cigarette. The garden has been their small sanctuary for it during breaks; practically as soon as they step onto the grass, they’re striking their lighter to start the cigarette.

They’ve got a few puffs in when they suddenly hear shaky breathing that isn’t their own. Marlowe looks over toward the rosebush, and their eyes widen when they see Finnian crouched beside it.

He’s just barely missing all the thorns, curled in on himself with tears in his eyes. It’s the picture of someone in distress if ever Marlowe has seen one, and it tugs at their heartstrings.

It wasn’t too long ago that this was them. They recall being up one night sobbing in fear that they’d be kicked out for asking Ciel to refer to them as ‘he’ one day… only for Mey Rin to hold them and stroke their hair and reassure them that wouldn’t happen. Bard once saw their hands tremble as they were looking in envy at his cigarette, and he gave it to them, seemingly able to realize another person who was desperate to numb their pain with something.

Even Sebastian was a comfort, strict as he is. It’s a sharp, powerful memory ― their tears spilled over their cheeks, berating themself for having made a small mistake. And Sebastian’s hands came to rest firmly on their face, and that stern voice of his cut through all their horrible thoughts.

“What did you tell me when you first came here… that you would try hard even if you stumbled? That you would fall nine times, and get up ten? You are no longer that helpless, dirty urchin from the street, Marlowe. You’re better than that now. You are a Phantomhive servant. Straighten your back, fix your mistake, and do what you promised me you would do: make me proud.”

These people have had faith in them. Their fellow servants are becoming their friends, and their master expects the best from them because he knows they’re capable of it.

Marlowe cannot look at someone who was just as lost as they were and simply pretend not to see the suffering. Everyone else here has made them feel welcome. They want to do the same for Finnian. He deserves to be comfortable in his new home.

They quietly walk over, the grass rustling under their feet, and lower themself down to sit on his other side. He startles at the abrupt presence, but all he does is look over them with wide eyes.

Awkwardly, they offer their cigarette in his direction. Though, it doesn’t appear he’s one to smoke. “Oi… want a drag?”

“N… no…” His voice is so small. He shakes his head at them, and scrubs at his tears with the heel of his palm. “M… Marlowe… why are you out here?”

They shrug. “Woke up. Started thinkin’. Decided I needed a smoke. Wot are y’ doin’ out ‘ere?”

He blinks, and the quick, in-and-out staccato of his breathing becomes even more apparent now that they’re closer. “I… I guess the same…? Minus the s-smoking.”

“That right?” They take a drag before blowing out a thin stream of smoke, away from Finnian. “Wot y’ thinkin’ ‘bout that led y’ outside?”

He stiffens up. The tears start to pool at the bottoms of his eyes again, and he buries his face in his hands. “I… I like it here… but… I woke up… ‘n’ I just… felt like I had t’ get outside for a minute. I-I felt… I felt trapped.”

Trapped? In a way, they get it. Except, it feels like something a little different with him. They take another puff, then give his shoulder a nudge with theirs. “I ain’t gonna judge if y’ wanna talk ‘bout it, Finnian. Get it out so it don’t eat y’ up.”

For a long minute, he’s silent aside from his unsteady breathing.

“The… place I was at before. They were doctors. Doin’ experiments on us. They kept us inside, we weren’t allowed to go out.” Marlowe can feel his entire body shuddering with the force of a bad memory. His voice gets progressively harder to understand as he keeps talking, because the crying starts to take over, although they think they get all the important parts.

“I woke up ‘n’ I felt… I felt like I was… in a cage… even though I had room… ‘cause there were walls keepin’ me in! It’s s-stupid, I know it ain’t like it was… but I j… I just… felt like I was… like I was gonna die if I stayed in there… my heart was beatin’ so fast I could feel it in my ears, ‘n’ it was like I c-couldn’t breathe ‘n’…”

Marlowe finishes their cigarette, and tosses it beneath their foot so they can at least attempt to grind it out. No sparks catch on the grass, so it’s fine. They’ll check it again before they take Finnian inside.

With one arm, they drape around his shoulders and gently pull him against their shoulder so the poor boy can cry and be miserable in peace. They notice there’s almost no hesitation when he leans in, pressing his face against them.

Inside, they’re a powder keg waiting to explode. Why does the world have to be like this? Why do people have to be so terrible?

What they went through was bad enough. Finnian’s been through hell, literally being experimented on? Kept inside for his whole life? He’s been tortured. It’s to the point that he’s here, in a safe place, a warm bed and food and people who accept him, and he can’t relax because his mind is telling him something bad is going to happen simply because he’s got four walls and a roof around him.

Anger roils and bubbles inside them as they tuck Finnian’s head under their chin. Like they think they can protect him from his own thoughts and fears.

“Fuckin’ bastards, puttin’ y’ through that,” they mutter. It’s not fair to compare the horrible pasts of anyone here, but at least they can say they’d probably rather have the predictability of their father’s belt and their mother’s starving disapproval than what Finnian’s been through. They suddenly feel grateful for the abuse their parents foisted on them.

That’s fucked up, ain’t it? That’s so fucked up. What I went through was bad too, but… this poor kid.

They hold him as close as they think they can without making him feel confined. That’s part of the problem, right? Too tightly and it will only make things worse.

“Get it out. ‘S alright. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wot y’re feelin’.” They try to keep their voice soft so they don’t set him on edge.

It’s difficult when they’re so full of rage at what they world has done to him.

And he just continues to wail, holding back the noise as best he can and sobbing into their shoulder. Like he’s used to trying to suffer quietly.

That pisses Marlowe off even more.

“’S alright, Finny,” they repeat, and they don’t know quite why they shorten his name like that. “Y’re safe. Ain’t nothin’ ‘r nobody gonna ‘urt y’ while I’m ‘ere.”

A hiccup comes from him as he lifts his eyes up just briefly. There’s a look on his face that’s almost a smile. “… Finny…? I-I… I like that…”

Of course, just like that, he goes right back to crying as soon as they return the smile.

“Oi, yeah. Don’t worry, Finny.” Their fingers sift lightly through the sparse strands of hair that are poking out from his scalp.

“Stay out ‘ere as long as we need t’.”

Because everything else be damned, they’re going to make sure he feels safe here.

#tehgreatboo #abuse tw #Black Butler #Finny #OC #Marlowe #scenario #platonic #friendship #whump #hurt/comfort #angst #my sweet boy he's got ye olde claustrophobia and it's Bad here comes an anxiety attack just cuz he's inside some walls #and Marlowe is just Very Angry both on his behalf and on their own as well as their other friends' #PLEASE LOVE THEM BOTH I JUST- #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

If I could be so selfish— I’d also love an angsty thing with wolfram. Like maybe he and reader fell in love after everything in Germany and are TRYING to make it work, but cannot be together (wolfram has sieglinde, reader works for the earl) so their time together is extremely limited despite their best efforts. Torture me with this 😭💔 thank you 🙏

torture YOU? I tortured MYSELF with this!! p l s ;A;

A night off means a night at a ball, which usually means one of the few times you can take advantage of the fact that you have no duties. In turn, typically these are the nights you get to spend the most time with WOLFRAM.

God, you love him so much. The thought of getting to be with him even for a short while is what carries you through the drudgery of your days. As much as you’re honored getting to work for Ciel Phantomhive, and as much as you adore him, sometimes the days tend to blur together in a symphony of sameness.

And… you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want Wolfram with you more often. It’s just not easy; as precocious a child as she is, Sieglinde is still a child, and most of Wolfram’s time goes to her. Most of your time goes to serving your earl.

You love your life. You love your job, you love your friends, you love Sieglinde… sometimes you just wish things would be easier, that the stars would align ever more often for you and Wolfram to be together.

But strangely enough, when you look around the ballroom shortly after entering, you don’t see your beloved anywhere. Thankfully, Sieglinde is in a corner with her spider walker, excitedly chattering with Lizzie, so you ask her. She says that he went out into the foyer, “… and I think you should talk to him, (Name).”

Well, so you should.

When you make your way there, your darling is sitting at the bottom of the stairs with his head in his hand. You can definitely see why Sieglinde thought you should talk to him, if he looked similarly before leaving the ballroom.

Quietly, you walk over and take a seat next to him. “There you are,” you hum as you bump your shoulder against his. “You look very handsome tonight, my love. You don’t have a smile to match, though.”

“No.” He straightens up a bit and sets his hand on his knee, shaking his head. “My smile does not want to be a part of this outfit.”

You reach over to set your hand gently on top of his. “Oh, that’s not good. What’s wrong?”

Although he doesn’t move too much, the good news is… he doesn’t move too much. He isn’t shying away from you like he’s occasionally done in the past. “I’m sad.”

Oh. Maybe that’s not surprising. He hides so much, though, you’re glad that he feels comfortable enough with you to admit it bluntly.

“Why are you sad, sweetheart?”

The way he purses his lips, tightly, gives the impression of someone who’s trying not to cry. That surprises you, because you… you’re actually not sure you’ve ever seen Wolfram cry. He holds it together so well, even when other people would be breaking apart. Even when he probably should be breaking apart. It’s probably all that training, and that makes you angry for him.

It looks like he goes so far as to bite his lip to keep any tears from coming. He seems to be gathering up the courage to say something. Finally, his hand shifts beneath yours, and before long, he’s holding it as if he thinks you’re going to slip away if he doesn’t.

“I miss you, Liebling,” he murmurs. Then, his face turns pink and he looks away. “I can… tell you something secret? Embarrassing things?”

You think it’s likely only embarrassing to him, so you nod. “You can tell me anything, Wolfram.”

A small nod, like that’s what he expected your answer to be, before he says anything else. When he does, he sounds tired. “When we were starting… these things? Between us, I mean. I was very happy.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “I was, too. I still am.”

“I am…” He sighs. “When we were starting, I was thinking that… it would be different than it is now. The old life I had was over. This is my new one. Old Wolfram dies, better Wolfram gets to live. And I kept thinking… it was that thing from storybooks. Happily ever after.”

He looks back over at you again, and there’s a look of… shame on his face. As if he thinks it was stupid of him to believe in something like that. “The story never keeps going, after the prince and princess find each other. The book just is letting you make your own story, with everything being perfect and wonderful and no problems ever again. They stay together. Big castle. Children. Never sad ever again.”

His eyes drift closed. “But you and I, we’re apart most of days. And I’m sad, because I miss you. Gives me much shame, but… when we were starting… I thought we would be like the prince and princess. I would take care of Sieglinde, and you would have your job, and I… get to lie down in bed with you every night. I thought, finally, I would have… something good. Something more.”

After a long moment, he carefully tugs his hand out of your grasp. Both hands fidget, and he takes a deep breath. “Life gets in our way, over and over. I want you to be able to do things you want, and I love Sieglinde. She is my whole world.” A small, bittersweet smile settles on his lips, then he looks back toward you. “But you are also my whole world.”

“Oh, Wolfram. My love.” You lean in, and thank God, as soon as you put a hand on his cheek, he leans in for a kiss. Even when he’s sad about all of this, it’s not bad enough that he doesn’t want to be with you. “You’re my whole world, too. And so is my work.”

You give him another kiss. Your thumb runs lightly over his sideburns, and he strokes a hand through your hair. When the two of you part, he stays right where he is, warm breath against your lips. “… I thought I had a fairytale. That maybe sometimes they might be come true.” His voice is soft and sounds seconds away from breaking into pieces. “What will we do?”

Just hearing him ask that makes your heart melt. He’s simple, he knows how to follow orders, but… he’s hopelessly lost with anything complicated. He doesn’t have answers.

To be fair, neither do you. You don’t want to give up your work, and there’s no way you could even think of asking him to neglect Sieglinde. You love that little girl just as much as he does. This whole situation is so complex.

What are the two of you going to do?

“I don’t know.” It’s a confession that weighs on your heart and mind. You’ll have to think about it, and in the meantime… you have no idea how to comfort him or yourself, except to remind him that he’s not alone in the way he feels. “I miss you so much, too. The thought of getting to see you is the only thing carrying me through sometimes. Getting to be with you makes me feel like real life is a fairytale… but… I know it’s not.”

You gingerly put your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. There’s nothing that immediately comes to mind as a solution, and maybe you don’t need one just this second. Maybe all you really need right now is to be together.

The two of you press into one another, music filtering in faintly from the ballroom.

“I love you,” Wolfram says quietly. And he holds you a little bit tighter. “So much. Du bist meine ein und alles.”

You hold him a little bit tighter, too. “I love you so much, too. You’re my one and only.”

His breath catches as if he’s about to start crying. “(Name), I’ve… I’ve waited my whole life for you, I think. I don’t want to let go.”

“So don’t.” You bury your face in his neck, and feel his face against the top of your head. Come hell or high water, you will make this work. You’re not letting go of him either. “You don’t have to. We’ll… figure something out. I promise. For now… w-we have the rest of the night.”

At least, as long as the two of you are together, there’s no way the night could go to waste.

You’ll just… have to think of something to keep that promise.

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Wolfram #Wolfram Geltzer #reader insert #romantic #angst #drama #MY HEAAAAAART #one hell of a queue

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

@yassisthings @tehgreatboo @onehellofashadynerd

I LOVE Y’ALL <3 <3 <3

#yassisthings #tehgreatboo #onehellofashadynerd #mod post #LET'S FUCKIN GOOOOO.............. HUG OUR DOTTER

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

so anyway @tehgreatboo made the grave mistake of saying it was their birthday today

and since the request they asked for along with that information probably won’t be done for a while... I HUMBLY OFFER THIS

plus, you guys who don’t have a birthday today can have it to play on your actual birthdays!! ;D

I’m probably offending any actual Germans (and any German ancestors I might have) with my pronunciation of this phrase, but, at least I gave it an actual effort! I can think of how it could sound a lot more mangled, anyway, so I don’t think I’m the worst 😂 and I hope this is actually an acceptable phrase for a birthday wish, I found a couple in my Googling but this one sounded the nicest to me ahaha

happy birthday, Boo!! come cuddle with your big awkward husband <3

this is super short but, still, transcript under the cut!!

“Alles Gute zum Geburtstag... ah, ha. Aah. In English, is... ‘happy birthday’. (kisses) I... hope it’s a good one, Liebling.”

#tehgreatboo #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Wolfram #Wolfram Geltzer #audio #romantic #fluff #birthday wishes #COME GET YOUR GIFT IT'S A KISS FROM THIS TREE OF A MAN-

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

@tehgreatboo said: I MEAN HE RESPONDS TO SNAKE CHARMING FLUTES SO WHY THE FUCK NOT ???

THIS POOR BOY WHERE ARE HIS PARENTS WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM HE NEEDS HELP HE HAS NO CLUE HOW HE EVEN WORKS!!

#tehgreatboo #mod post #I NEED TO GIVE HIM HUGS AND HISSES I MEAN KISSES!!! <3