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Similar Deviations
I can't just exist. But I can't live either.  I was never meant to live in a world like this.  I'm sure of that.  Where is the reality I desperately seek?  Where is the end of my dream?  When I wake up, will I want to go back to sleep?  
I don't think I was ever born.  I don't remember anything but pain.  The pain I cause others.  The pain inside my mind.  Like a headache that never fades.  If I reach out for help I drag that helping hand into the shadows.  Into unknown darkness and torment.  Nightmares.  Perhaps I am a nightmare within a large beautiful dream.  
It must be a beautiful dream.  Because I met someone from outside, someone pure.  Though the world is twisted and cruel she kept her sadness inside, it bloomed again and again within her soul.  She came to me with a smile.  
I can't remember my face, so she gave me a face.  A face she herself only remembered in faded memories.  I don't know how to act while wearing this precious face.  She loved this person and had to say goodbye.  I wonder if she would love me.  Though I could never be who she dreams I am.  It makes me happy when she dreams.  It makes me happy that there's room for me in her dreams.  
There was another with an open mind.  But he was afraid and gradually gave his heart to a beautiful young girl.  Her dreams were soft like silk.  I don't sleep.  I have to wait for her to fall asleep again.  Until then, I'm nothing.  
Iris is the name of the one I exist for.  Her dreams are bright and warm like sunlight.  But I know they are also memories.  That makes me very sad sometimes.  I feel like I'm outside looking in.  Sometimes they are very dark like she's barely dreaming at all.  Just sleeping and feeling.  
Her feelings are the keys that let me in.  The loneliness in the bottom of her heart.  Fragmented and distorted through many, many dreams of distant warmth.  When I met her she was reaching out.  I knew I could easily love her.  Her wordless begging started that sad dream; my kiss surely ended it.
But what of my wishes and desires?  Do they hang in her head like gray smoke?  Would I pollute her innocence?  I want her to think of me when she's awake.  I want to be with her always.  It's that selfish greed that pulls people close to insanity.  I can't avoid it.  All I can do is want.  I can't live without these desires.  I want to bite into her and drain her soul to fill the void, the void that has become my very core. I will take everything from Iris until there is only me.  Because I can't just exist.
a story from the perspective of someone who only exists in dreams.
i thought after a while this person would question their existence a lot and start to feel trapped. and eventually they would become very twisted and cruel. even to someone who gives them the love they want.
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Light hits my eyes.
I open slowly.
I welcome the warmth.
Blackness is in my way.
I know who it is.

His red eyes shine.
His black tail coat is bright.
His black hair fits is head.
He gets on his knees.
He sits perfect, like a raven.

He takes my orders.
He never fails me.

He waits to feed.
That day will never come.
I'm one of him now.
He will never feed.
He will take my orders forever.
He cant leave my side.
Because of what I have become.
But, I know we will be forever.
This is about, when Ciel became a demon.

I hope you like.

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This will never be
He's a demon
I'm a human.
Love will never reach us.
I'm scared.
He knows.
I wish this will be.
It will never be...
I love these too :D

They so cute >.<

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His eyes filled with blue.
His blond hair blew.
He would yell.
He would hit.

Tall and sleek.
Golden eyes perfect and sharp.
Glass that shine in the light.
Tall and sleek.

He stands by his side.
He stands with meaning.
He watches with care.
His love is a web.

He gets on his knees.
He holds my face.
He never leaves.
He stays.

Why doesn't he see?
How doesn't he know?
Why don't I tell him?
He wont care.
He wants to eat.
But its not me.
Dose he love me.
:D Claude and Alois I love these two.

But SebbyxCiel is my OTP!

I hope you like what I wrote.
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It isn't the size of her breasts
Nor is it the way you dress
Love isn't your wealth
Or popularity
Love isn't the jerk
Love isn't sex

Love is patient
Love is kind
Love is when you'll be there for him
Love is when you'll stay by his side
Love is when you'll spend eternity with him
Love is when you'll die for him
Love is to love
A poem a came up with at a random moment.:iconimhappyplz:
Picture is from a free background website.
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Bad Luck
Chapter 1.

Eric slumped onto a barstool, ordering himself another glass of whisky. He hadn’t been at the pub long, but already could feel the effects of the alcohol. His mind fuzzy, and his body swaying slightly. He tipped back the glass, taking it like a shot as he turned around to look out at the other patrons dancing and talking joyfully.

Normally he would go to the pub with his best friend, Ronald, but Ron had overtime and he had had the worst day. He woke up to find he was an hour late for work, upon getting to work, Alan cornered him, lecturing him about being late before loading his arms full of paperwork. In doing said paperwork; the reaper found that his last pen had run out of ink and he had to hunt for another one; which he found in the hands of Grell who happened to want a favor, which he reluctantly obliged, taking another stack of paperwork atop his own. Ronald had also found him, chewing him out about the new secretary who the young reaper had been trying to woo for weeks, and he thought that Eric had taken her on a date. And on top of all that; he had somehow missed a collection; causing William to lecture him and give him an hour’s overtime for the rest of the week.

Yes, he needed this drink, and all the ones to follow. Again, he turned around and motioned for the bartender to top him off.

Claude entered into the noisy pub, removing his hat while taking his place at a table in the corner, away from any drawn attention. He had one night to himself wile being enslaved as a boy's butler and decided to spend it to himself, enjoying one of the few human alcoholic drinks that pleased him. He pressed up his glasses after giving his order to a passing barmaid before glancing around the pub, viewing each wasted or partially-drunk soul there.

But there was one other non-human being there along with him.

Death's scent caught his attention, causing his golden eyes to narrow and glancing around before landing on the Reaper sitting at the bar. He didn't seem to notice the demon had entered, which was odd: Reaper's could pick up on a demon's scent as quick as a demon could find a Reaper. That was when he noticed the bartender topping off the reaper's glass with the golden alcohol, a slight klutziness to the reaper's movements as he drank it back. 'A drunken reaper…what luck.' he thought to himself, the corner of his mouth tugging up in an amused smirk.

Eric downed a few more glasses before the bartender ignored his request for more; taking his glass.

“I think you’ve had enough, Sir. You’ll have a hard enough time getting home as you are.”

“Ya can’b cutten me off.”

“Oh yes I can. This is my establishment and I have the right to do so.”

Claude muffled a quiet chuckle into his fist, glancing up at the barmaid as she delivered his drink with a small nod of thanks, looking back over at the drunken Reaper sulking over losing his drinking privilege for the night.

Grunting, Eric pulled out his wallet and tossed some bills to cover his tab onto the counter and stumbled off his stool, taking too long to gain balance before making his way towards the door, passing by the demon’s table without even a glance.

Claude sipped at his drink, savoring it as he watched the reaper stumble past his table without so much as a glance. His mind buzzed thoughtfully: perhaps he could have a little fun with the drunken reaper to finish off his night? Would the reaper even be able to fight him? The thought of the reaper being too drunk to even fight him excited him, making him grin slightly into his drink. He quickly finished it, laying down money for his drink before grabbing up his hat and slipping out through the alley door, intending on cutting off the reaper if he hadn't gotten far.

The drunken reaper staggered down the nearly empty streets until his balance got away from him and he stumbled to the side, catching himself on the brick wall of the nearby building and sliding down it.

Claude stepped out from the alleyway, turning to walk down the street towards the reaper, watching him fall. He chuckled as he got close enough for him to hear, "Have one too many?"

“Fer the day? Not enough…for thi’ere walken task…ten t’many.” He grumbled, glancing at the tall, raven haired man, and squinting, trying to make out if he knew the man and deciding he didn’t. At least he was fairly sure he didn’t. He wasn’t a coworker at least.

"I take it today was not fair to you, hm?" he asked politely, though with a hint of tease on his tone.

Eric shook his head, “Don’ ya have som’p ta be?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

"Nowhere important." He leaned down with his hand out, offering to help the other to help him to his feet.

“Arn’cha lucky…” he grumbled, staring at the demon’s hand blankly before realizing the man was offering him help, and taking it, letting him pull him to his unsteady feet. He leaned back against the wall wile he brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked the man over again. There was something about this man…but he couldn’t place it.

The demon stepped closer to him after the reaper stood up on his feet, smirking. "Not luck could very well change around tonight."

“Righ’…” The intoxicated death god pushed himself away from the wall and lifted a hand in a wave, though it threw him off balance slightly, “s’ya” he started walking away, then realizing he was going the wrong way, he turned around, bumping strait into the demon.

Claude didn't even budge as the reaper collided with him, fighting back a snort of laughter. "And where, may I ask, are you trying to go?"

“’ome.” He said simply, blinking and moving to step around the other male.

"And you think you will make it all on your own?" he chuckled, "I hardly doubt it. You have already collided with more than enough to prove otherwise. Come...allow me to treat you for a night until the alcohol has worn off." He motioned down the road, pointing towards an inn a few blocks down.

Eric cocked an eyebrow, but nodded, he was quite drunk and he knew it. And if this man was paying…there was no harm in staying in mortal London for the night. “A’right.”

The spider held off his smirk and lead the drunken reaper down the road and into the inn, letting him lean on the counter while he took out money to pay the innkeeper for a room. The demon then accepted the key for the room, grabbing Eric under the arm to lead him once more down the hallway, unlocking the door before guiding him into the room and over to the bed to sit. He then set his cloak and hat aside, not intending to leave until he was satisfied.

The reaper sighed and let himself fall back onto the bed, mumbling an almost incomprehensible thank you as he kicked his shoes off.

"So…dare I ask what has over-worked you into such a state?" Claude asked curiously, pulling over the bed-side chair and sitting on it beside the bed, eyeing the reaper.

“Paperwork…coworkers…blaste’pens….” He muttered, rolling over and pushing his glasses up to the top of his head so he could shove his face into a pillow without bending the thin frames.

Claude reached over to carefully slip the reaper's glasses from the top of his head, looking them over, interested in their design, "A long, unfortunate day then." he mused, setting the tinted glasses down on the table before moving to slide over onto the bed, running a gloved hand over the reaper's back slowly, hoping to ease him into a more-relaxed state.

“Mhmmm…” His eyes closed, enjoying the soft touch, not quite realizing it was from a complete stranger.

Claude continued to rub along the other's back, turning to press down harder and add his other hand in, gradually inching himself closer until he was straddling the other's lower back. "Like that?"

“Mm.” Eric smiled, relaxing fully. Maybe this is what he needed…work out all the knots in his back…he probably had needed it for weeks.

He smirked, continuing to work his hands over the other's shoulders and back, pulling back only for a moment to ease off the reaper's coat, gently tugging his shirt loose from being tucked into his pants and slipped his fingers up beneath it to run over his skin.

Grunting, Eric shifted so that the demon would ease off him slightly, just enough for him to roll over. He reached up, grabbing Claude’s vest and yanking him down suddenly, pressing his lips to the other’s in a rough, sloppy, whisky-flavored kiss.

Yellow eyes widened behind the square frames, very surprised in the reaper's sudden kiss. Well, this certainly made things easier to obtain what he wanted. He lowered himself down to press against him, reaching up to remove his own glasses to set them with the other's before returning the kiss just as roughly, pinching open each button on his shirt then pushing it back off his shoulders to expose his torso to him.

Eric didn’t know what had come over him, but he knew he wasn’t going to be stopping with the man responding favorably to his kiss. He had, had one night stands before after drinking at the bar, but they had all been women. Not that he had anything against men, but things always tended to work out that way.  With a small moan in the back of his throat, Eric’s fingers assisted in the task of removing clothes, stripping off the demon’s vest and shirt.


Eric groaned, and shifted to sit up against the headboard of the bed, looking at the blurred figure, now that the alcohol in his system had passed slightly, there really was something about the man, but he still couldn’t place it, “D’ I know ya from somewhere?”

Claude kept his gazed shifted down until his eyes returned to their golden hue, glancing up at the other again with a smirk. "Perhaps as a couple of strangers passing on the street." he replied coolly, sitting back on his ankles as he curled his ungloved fingers under.

“Sumthen ‘bout ya…” He shrugged, “Ya stayen ‘ere or goen ‘ome?” he asked, getting to his feet and taking a moment to catch his balance before walking over to the bathroom and filling a glass with water.

"I may stay, seeing as I have nothing else to do this evening." he shrugged, eyeing the other as he walked off into the bathroom. He couldn't help but smirk, rather pleased with himself to see how much of a mess he made of the reaper.

Eric tipped back the water before using a towel to clean himself off and walking back to the bed, tossing the towel over to the demon, “A’right.”

He looked down at the towel, taking it to also clean himself off before fixing his clothing and running his fingers back through his hair. "..for one who doesn't bottom, you took it quite well." he teased, looking over at the reaper with a smirk.

“’m Drunk. Woudn’ave ‘appened otherwise…” he muttered, sliding under the blanket, “’onna pay fer it in th’mornen…”

"Oh yes, unfortunately, I am sure of that. I do hope it doesn't disrupt your work too much." Claude smiled, highly amused that the reaper hadn't caught on to his antics, let alone that he was a demon.

Eric grunted and pulled the blanket up over him, “Maybe…”


Morning light streamed through the windows, rousing Eric from his sleep. He groaned and rolled over, his body protesting as he sat up and dangled his legs over the side. He rubbed his eyes and reaching out to grab his glasses, sliding them on his face. He frowned, his sight not clearing. He took the glasses off again and squinted, realizing they weren’t his. Slowly, he looked over at the figure next to him, remembering vaguely what they had done the night before. His cheeks flushed lightly and he reached over to grab his own glasses.

Claude had only curled up in the bed to regain some of his lost strength for that day, eyes remaining closed while in a deep sleep-like state even as Eric woke up. He shifted slightly as there was more movement, opening his eyes to glance over his shoulder then over to the window, realizing it was morning. He sighed, sitting up before sliding from the bed to retrieve his coat and few belongings he had arrived with.

Eric glanced over at him, the silence growing awkward between them. He silently gathered his clothing and put them on, tossing Claude’s waistcoat onto the bed after untangling it from his pants.

The demon reached over to slip on his vest and buttoning it, quickly redressing himself before reaching over to pick up his glasses. "What time does your work begin?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.

The reaper glanced at the clock, “’half hour.” He muttered, tying his tie loosely around his neck and tucking it under his collar.

He nodded, pushing his glasses onto his nose before turning for his traveling cloak and hat. "I am needed at my home…I enjoyed last night." he smirked at him, tipping his hat to him after putting it on, turning for the door. "Try not to work too hard, Reaper…" he chuckled, opening the door and slipping from the room, then was gone.

Eric froze, looking over at the demon, a sickening smell in the air finally registering in his sleepy mind. “You…awe fuck no…”

Claude strode out into the busy London streets, hiding his grin behind his gloved hand as he made his way towards the Trancy manor.

Eric cursed, his skin crawling as he stripped back down to scrub himself clean spending more than the half hour he had scrubbing his skin raw.
Co-written by *NinLuvs-SHM

A string of bad luck one day at work leads Eric Slingby to a night of drinking that he'll always regret...or is there a silver lining in the dark cloud changing his reaper life forever?

1. [link]
1 Censored. [link]
2. [link] [link]

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A Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji Fanfiction
First Part of the "Kokoro Kiseki" series


The first miracle was that you had met.
And the second miracle was the time you and he spent together.

The dining room was terribly crowded with passengers from all over England, chatting and laughing outrageously, and each table rang with the unpleasant babbles of drunkenness and senselessness. They were having the time of their life as they screamed their enthusiasm, laughing shrilly as if it were forced. You frowned silently as you stirred at your drink with a gloved hand, blinking up at the pure white ceiling, not knowing quite where you were.

But of course you knew where you were—you were a first-class passenger of the Campania, a fine ship that was filled with rooms that stretched vastly across the ship, with hundreds of men and women crowded aboard, singing with joy at the privilege of being able to board this fine vessel. Its fine majesty was further witnessed by the ship’s gargantuan size, its fine white metal surface and its complex engines that ran the entire ship. The few select who had been allowed to ride this beautiful ship marveled at it, praising each immaculate detail, the greatness of its manufacturer.

… However, you weren’t particularly pleased with the arrangements.

You had no desire to be aboard a ship like this when you could be at home, in your silent little house, free from all the hustle and bustle. Because really, who would like to be on the Campania in a time where they most despised the circumstances they had been dragged into? In your case, it was to be headed to France to be wedded to their particularly noisy and flamboyant husband, a no-good, empty-witted man who had nothing but money and cotton to fill up his head?

You took an angry sip of champagne, cursing your parents’ attempts to marry you to this idiot. “Damn you, you cursed dog,” you uttered in reference to your to-be husband. And you hardly even knew him until your parents had announced your arranged marriage months ago. You didn’t know him, nor had you made an effort to become familiar with him in the past half a year, but you already hated him, now that the both of you were sharing a room on the ship and due to be married in several—

“Hey there, Miss.” You gave a start as a handsome youth, a man of about twenty or so, sat down across from your seat at the round table. “Anyone sittin’ here?”

He appeared so… naturally and calm that you were shocked at his words. Had this blonde man just taken the seat that your future husband—who was supposed to be there, but was across the room and drinking himself to death—and casually just sat there, smiling as if he belonged with you?

“U-Um… of course,” you muttered quickly, taking another hasty sip of champagne and putting the glass down. “P-Please. He isn’t going to come sit, so…”

“Oh?” The guy raised his eyebrows dashingly. Perched on top of his wavy, unruly blonde-brown hair was a bowler hat that looked rather nice on him, accompanied by a matching suit and jacket of black. His tie was loose and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, but no one in their drunken state would stop to chide at him. “Got a boyfriend, miss?”

Was it just you, or did he seem rather opposed at the thought…?

“Er—no…” Your champagne glass trembled in your hand as you murmured, “I have to marry him… three weeks… damned arrangement.”

The blonde let out a smooth laugh, and to your surprise, it sounded exactly the way he looked—charming and attractive. “Not so happy with the wedding, eh?” In fact, it seemed to him as if you were extremely frustrated. “Sounds like you need a break from your life.”

“That would be pleasing.” Whoever this man was, he was pleasant to talk to. Finally, someone who understood your troubles. “Although my parents would object. They think my rightful place is… as a wife, married to some business man of high stature. Why—” Your voice was shaky and angry as you stated: “I’d rather kiss a commoner before I marry that bastard.”

Really. You hated your future husband, from what you knew of him, his fake smile and false, high laughs. His gleaming white teeth were distracting and annoying, and his expensive suit, which had cost him a good 300 pounds, only made his façade seem faker than ever. His only ambition to marry you, you suspected, was because of your money and status… and both your families’ attempts to keep a pure-blood line of Englishmen and nobles running. The fact that, with a toothy, false smile, he’d bought you a fluffy, puffed-up ball gown that had possibly reduced his wealth by a good fraction for you to wear on the ship, the one you were donning this moment, mattered little to you. You at least wanted a man who was honest with you and actually cared for you, even this intelligent-looking young man would—

A-Ah!” You let out a soft yelp as the unknown man placed his hands on yours, his green eyes on you every moment as he inquired: “Tell me… what do you like to read? Plays? Shakespeare?”

Boy, he sure seemed to be emphasizing on the Shakespeare part. “Y-Yes… I read Shakespeare…”

He had a sly smile on his slim, pale face that you rather liked; it was something of an angel’s sweet, endearing face compared to the large, worthless, goofy grin on your husband’s face. He gave your gloved hand a squeeze in his, across which a black leather glove stretched, and recited:

If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

You knew that line—your mother had made you read Romeo and Juliet over and over, in the hopes that you would suddenly become inspired to seek a love that you did not wish for—a love that was no use to you, that was as good as dead.

G-Good pilgrim…” You uttered, shocked by his sudden play of words,

You do wrong your hand t-too much,
Which m-mannerly devotion shows in th-this,
For saints have hands that p-pilgrims’ hands do touch,
A-And p-palm to palm i-is holy palmers’ kiss…

You stammered the lines that your parents had forced you to memorise, knowing that one day you would be standing in front of your soon-to-be husband, reciting them unsmilingly.

And yet, the place you were first truly speaking them was not before your future husband…

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” The smile on the stranger’s face had turned to a playful smirk, and you found yourself powerless, gazing into his handsomely structured face, his glinting eyes, and staring at the silky, partly-combed hair…

“A-Ay, pilgrim… lips th-that they must use… i-in prayer…” You hardly dared to believe it. Here you were, speaking these now suddenly meaningful words to a complete stranger, while your husband roared with loud laughter from the other side of the dining room. Who had said that you were allowed only to say these lines to that damned man? Why not this kinder, more understanding person that you’d already grown fond of…?

O’ then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

You had to admit, this youth made quite the Romeo. He was only some years older than you and you were playing the role of—wait… the role of his…

Even as you were trying desperately to interpret these words to yourself, you heard yourself say: “Saints do not move, though grant for prayer’s sake” without a single stutter in the words.

Then… move not while my prayer’s effect I take.

You suddenly found yourself engulfed by a strange, bodily warmth, a heat that did not belong to yourself—a gloved hand was placed on the back of your neck, and the boy leaned in closer to you, his lips clasped over yours. The fingers of his free right hand intertwined with yours, and you gave no resistance—you were completely frozen in shock against his warm lips.

Let lips do what hands do.

You were sure that Romeo hadn’t kissed Juliet in this manner, or he might have crushed her accidentally. But who cared? This man—this stranger—had you against him in a jaw-locking kiss, and you couldn’t care any less—you liked it.

When he drew away at last, leaving both of you breathless, you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer.

“W-What is your name?”

He gave you that same smile—a look of cleverness and coy. He raised a finger to his lips as he grinned, saying: “That’s a secret…”

You found his hand on your shoulder as he winked at you. “But I suppose I owe you for that one. It’s Ronald.”

“Ronald?” You gasped breathlessly. Ronald… that name… I’ll keep in inside my mind always… even at my wedding. You stifled a giggle as you imagined what your parents would say if you were standing at the altar, thinking not of your husband but a stranger you’d kissed on the Campania.

“Ronald. Ronald Knox.” He smiled at you again, then swung his jacket over his shoulder as he stood from where he had been lying atop of you, playing with a strand of hair wrapped around his finger. “Well…” He looked hesitant, but nevertheless, he said: “I gotta go… Sorry, Miss… What’s your name?”

“__________... y-you really must be off now?” He had to go? Now, of all times? Hell, this man—Ronald Knox—had kissed you so hard you were burning red in the face now, and you weren’t about to let him run off without seeing him one last time. “C-Can I see you again?”

“Oh, sure, hun.” He gave you a strange look that made you unsure. It looked like a rather forced smile. “That is… considering one of us isn’t dead by the time we meet.”

“Wh-What do you mean by that?” You looked at him with wide eyes, curious of what your Romeo was talking about—but he took your hand, kissed it, and grinned at you.

Good night, good night. Parting is such a sweet sorrow,
That I shall say ‘good night; till it be morrow

He broke off from his verse, hesitated, and added hastily, “And I’ll see you one last time if I can.”

“Y-Yes…” You fixed him with a sudden glare. “You’d better. I’ll be sure you do.”

He let out that ringing, charming laugh again. “Oh, dear Juliet, you know I can’t make promises. But I’ll tell you now—I’ll do my best. Even if it means quoting Shakespeare for you for an eternity… why not?”

But as he turned to leave, he knew exactly why not. Why he couldn’t see you again. What it meant to him that you were on the list of cinematic records to collect…


The wreckage of the Campania loomed dangerously, its rear now angling downwards as it prepared to slowly sink deep into the pit of an ocean, the dark waters masking its outline as it began to submerge.

The only thoughts in your mind were not those of your dead husband, but the mysterious Ronald Knox.

You gazed up, horror-struck by the sight of the sinking ship, when your mind came back to him.

“Oh, Ronald… why…?” You buried your face in your hands, ignoring the biting cold that dug into your bare arms—you’d been woken up abruptly by a servant, who had been calling to you that the ship had been hit by an icecap, and you’d dashed out in only your corset and undergarments, looking much like the strange, dead creatures that had been stalking around outside your room. Then they’d tried to load you onto a boat, but before they could push anyone else on with you, the ropes had snapped and fallen away, leaving you to plunge through the air and into the ocean. It was a miracle you’d managed to keep the boat upright, and now you were soaking wet, cold, and only thinking of him.

He’d showed up out of the blue and made you fall in love with him.

You regretted meeting Ronald—now he was gone, and who knows where? Maybe he was going down with the ship at this moment, or perhaps he was already gone into the water, deep below the murky surface of the ocean… Your stomach clenched, and you turned your face up towards the sky and away from the water you’d been staring at.

“Ronald… where are you?”

“Right ‘ere, __________.” You turned your head so quickly that you cricked your neck—there he was, behind you, on the tiny little escape boat with a lawn mower over his shoulder.

“Ro-Ronald?” You gaped at him, your eyes wide once more as you reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real and not just an apparition. “Wh-What the… how did you…?”

“__________.” He fixed you with a solemn stare, one that you weren’t familiar with. Really, that expression looked wrong on his face… “I wanted to come see you one last time… like I promised.”


“I can’t stay here, __________.” He wiped his left cheek with his hand, seemingly pushing his hair out of his face, but in the almost complete darkness you could see the few tears that streaked his face. “I don’t belong in the world of humans. Listen to me. I’ll tell you one thing—I’ll live on infinitely. No matter what, I can’t be allowed to stay by your side. My world would never let me… But I want you to know. My heart belongs to you, love. Just… know that… my heart…”

Mysterious… heart… heart… mysterious
Mysterious… heart… heart… infinite

“… Ron… this doesn’t make any sense… It’s too hard for me to understand!”

“It’s not supposed to. I’m sorry I can’t tell you any more than this. The only thing my… uh… senpai says I’m allowed to tell you… is… c’mon, I don’t want to say it. I’ll just show you instead.”

Warm lips embraced you once more, and you shivered against him… what did he mean? What was he concealing from you, and why couldn’t he stay any longer? You had questions, so many questions, but… his lips were pressed against yours, and you couldn’t speak…

“I love you, __________.”

And suddenly there was only the cold air against your shaking body, and you turned wildly, searching for where he had gone, but you already knew it was useless.

He had gone, like Romeo asleep in the tombs beside his Juliet.

You died that night, hurling yourself into the deathly cold ocean.
There was nothing left to live for now that you had lost any ambition for marriage.
Especially now that the mysterious man known as Ronald Knox had gone.
So quickly he had come into your life and instantly disappeared.
He had stolen your heart, your ‘kokoro’.
But he gave you to the key to his miracle.
By dying, both of your ‘kokoro’ were united in the next life as reapers.
And so ends the tragedy of a reaper and a human.
... And, as he had promised, he quoted Shakespeare for you for all of eternity.
Yes, I'm starting a new series. It's called "Kokoro Kiseki", a song by Len Kagamine. Check it out if you haven't! And as this is a series composed of completely miscellaneous reader inserts from all over every fandom (only the ones I am familiar with, though). I'd love it for people to request reader inserts for this series! They can be any character, although preferably Black Butler, Hetalia, or Vocaloid... something along those lines. Harry Potter will do too.

This is a RonaldxReader request for :iconbigsisireland:. Although I screwed up by making it a part of the "Kokoro Kiseki" series... I'm sorry, I couldn't resist... I'll give you another request if you're not happy with this one.

Well! For those of you who don't understand the plot, you're on the Campania ship (see Black Butler manga) and you come across a certain reaper...

The quotes are all from the book/play "Romeo and Juliet", because I felt like it. At the end, he comes to you and explains that he can't stay with you as a lover because Sutcliffe-senpai and William-senpai won't let him... he's a reaper, after all, and you're a human... rest of explanation is in the bold captions.

Comments appreciated.

Preview image does not belong to me. Nor does Ronald Knox. I think Yana Toboso owns both of them...
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Wiping a few tears from your face you sighed sadly. Today was not a good day, or more like not a good week. Everything that was anything went wrong. You tried to put on a brave face most of the week, but as it progressed you just got worse and worse. There were moments when you would laugh about something but then went right back to your depressed mood. These kind of days were nothing new. After your big move to London, you had a lot of new adjustments to get used to. However, that was over two and a half months ago but nothing had really changed since. You had made a few friends the time you have been in London. Mostly the master of the Phantomhive Estate, Ciel and his butler Sebastian. Also, with the other servants of the residence, Bard, Finni, and Mey-Rin. You were all friends but it was nothing serious. Ciel was always busy and Bard and the others had their own problems to deal with so you didn't want to add onto the pressure. Suddenly tears formed up in your eyes again as you tried to choke back the sobs. Slumping down into the chair you were sitting in you wiped your eyes again.After wiping your face for the billionth time, you heard your door open and your boyfriend and also partner walked in. Not even bothering to look you slumped back into your chair. "Hey, (name) why are you feeling so down darling? C'mon come reaping with me! William has me working overtime and I can't do this all by myself." Still not making eye contact you replied, "No thanks Grell...I'm not in the mood for anything..." Grell walked over to your bed and sat down facing you with a toothy grin on his face. "Awww why not my love? I enjoy your company and I hate to see my sweetness so sad." He gave you a cute wink. Finally glancing over at him you merely replied again, "I'm just not in the mood okay?" He gave you a cute but concerned look and scooted farther to the edge of the bed. "Why are you so down in the dumps darling? You've been like this all week. Where's the funny and happy-hearted (name) I fell in love with?" He asked as he rolled over onto the bed looking at you upside-down. You blushed slightly at his question but gave a real cliche and somewhat sarcastic answer. "Probably lost, London is a big place you know?" Grell giggled at your reply and sat back up as an idea came into his mind. "I am going to make you smile if it's the last thing I do" "Don't bother. Didn't you say William is making you work overtime? Why don't you get going before he yells at you again..." He shook his head. "He can yell at me all he wants. I'm not leaving till my beloved is happy." You just sighed and turned to face Grell, figuring you might as well give him a chance in attempt to make you feel better. He got off the bed and smiled at you and began to sing to you: "Darling, at some point in the future,
I will sleep in your cuddling hug,
and we will even share the same dream.

I will casually recall and imagine,
from looking at my cup of black tea,
our crimson kiss and rosy secret In this eternity of an instant where we've just met,
I'll start weaving our red string of fate.

The feeling of loving you can be summarized as
scorching-hot red blood cells and difficulty to breathe.
If I affix my light-pink heartbeats right next to my window...
Oh my! My heart suddenly feels apprehensive!"     Your head perked up a little and you blushed slightly as he continued.

"Darling, do you feel it?
This miracle that our heartbeats
are horsing around under the night sky.

Unintentionally, I've placed
on the table a bouquet, some lies,
and a crazily raging love song.

I want us to cuddle close in this small red-roofed house,
and together greet the arrival of every morning." As he continued, your depressed mood began to fade away. you started to smile and blush. "So sweet that I could just die with you,
I'd tickle you into a bittersweet waking in the morning--
-that's how much I'm crazy for you.
In the maze, I murmur to you with my heart-burning tears:

"Ah, in a chapel as white as cotton candy,
I'll walk down the aisle with you in a red wedding dress...
The path would be as radiant as heaven itself...
And then we'll be bonded together forever...!"

You feel both so close to and so far away from me,
and even that aggravating distance of yours is so lovely!
Even if everything were just a dream,
I'll just kill our profusely blooming love in the heaven."
  After he finished, you ran up to him and hugged him tightly laughing and giggling. He hugged you back tightly and chuckled. Sure some of the lyrics were a little iffy, but you still loved it. It worked after all. You pulled away and smiled at him, full of happiness. "There, there's the (name) I know! I told you I'd make you feel better." You layed your head on his chest and replied, "Yes, you did. I'm sorry for being so moody." "Apologize not my love. Deadly efficient is my motto after all." You giggled again and he kissed your cheek. "Now, lets go reaping! William is gonna kill me knowing I've been slacking off again!" You sighed again as if to say, you're kidding right? but smiled. "Alright lets go, but don't blame me if William yells at you. Grell laughed again. "Hey he can yell all he wants. I had a very important matter to attend to. Keeping my beloved happy is more important." Thinking about it for a minute, you thought, maybe things weren't as bad as you made them seem. As long as you had Grell, you couldn't have really asked for anything better.
I've been in a depressed mood for some time now so I decided to write a Grell x Reader I'm watching Black Butler again and Grell is one of my favs. I DO NOT OWN GRELL, BLACK BUTLER, OR THE LYRICS TO THE SONG! ALL GOES TO THEIR RESPECTED OWNERS. Here's the link to the song: [link] ^^
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"Welcome Phantomhive! I wasn't expecting this!" Alois called cheerily as he flamboyantly crossed over to them, hand waving above his head.

You saw Ciel cringe as you watched from the doorway. "Whatever. Look Trancy, I've come for-"

"Dinner?" Alois interrupted very quickly, glancing at you. "Sure, sure. Claude was just getting on that!"

As he spoke, the said man bowed and left for the kitchens, eying the Phantomhives on the way out.

"What the bloody hell are you talking abou-Oh." Ciel paused after you left from the doorway, looking at him.

Alois spoke up, "Ah, yes! I have company. The dear (Last Name) House has left their daughter in my care for the next few days."

"(Last Name) House? As in the merchant company?" Ciel asked to no one in particular.

You nodded, grinning lightly. Ciel cocked his head to the side and paced up to you. "You look familiar..."

"As do you Ciel Phantomhive. We haven't met," you said simply.

The butler interrupted, "Are you sure you don't have a con artist scamming you Trancy? I recognize her. She plays cards and gambles in the streets, am I correct?"

Alois opened his mouth, but you spoke first. "That's right. I have to have something to do while my father is busy and aristocratic things just won't cut it for me. I'll leave that to my brother. Nothing rests on my shoulders to keep the family looking good. All I have to do is show up to a few parties a year. Problem Mr...?"

The butler bowed. "Sebastian. And no problem. Just that it's slightly odd..."

You scoffed. Great. The rude side was coming out. "I could say the same for the Phantomhive house. A young boy controlling a whole company? Not only that, but you also directly serve the queen. I find that a little off. I also find you a little off Mr. Sebastian. You seem to have wine colors for eyes. You also are paying attention enough to know that I'm running around in the streets. On top of that, there are rumors of your terror running through the underground. And that's another good thing about being a gambler on the streets... You hear things. I may know more secrets about you then you may know."

And with that, you stared irritably at the butler. He was slightly taken aback, his eyes showing faint surprise for a split second then going back to curiosity and interest. He bowed and smiled lightly. "How very observant of you~" was all he said.

Glaring daggers, you snapped, "Anyone else would take that as a compliment or words of submission. You think that you're a higher being. And maybe you are. But I'll tell you this: I've heard things, things about the family that you serve. My family even has contracts with your family. Now, I'll say this once... Treat me like a person. Not an aristocrat. Not a lower being. A person."

Sebastian remained quiet after your little rant, but he kept the strange smile and knowing eyes. It was still irritating but you could take it. Ciel eyed you curiously, pouting slightly. "You don't care very much about status do you?"

"Not particularly."

He smirked. "You're interesting. Maybe we can discuss how much you actually know over dinner then."

Alois stepped back to you, and slung and arm around your waist. "Oh she's very interesting. And my guest."

Scoffing, Ciel walked past you and Alois, heading toward the dinner hall. "It's a shame. You don't even deserve this type of company."

Alois' grip tightened around you, but his face refused to change. "I do believe that your company would make her more worrisome. She seems to have a disliking of your butler, and here I was thinking that this was the butler of the great Phantomhive who can woo or entertain any guest without them getting angry~"

Raising an eyebrow, you observed the butler was getting bashed and not Ciel. Guessing that it had something to do with how the upper classes picked the best servants, you ignored it. However, you also noticed Sebastian's eyes flashing just like how you thought you saw Claude do. Strange....

You weren't an idiot. You could clearly see that two young boys around the same age with two unsettling butlers with flashing eyes was suspicious, and not only that but possibly dangerous. Getting confused and irritated, you spoke up again. "That's enough. Now, I'd like to know why this all feels strangely morbid. I'd have to be a fool not to be able to read the signs of oddity at this level, so explain yourselves. Explain to me why you, no... more like you butlers give off this feeling."

Ciel blinked at you, trying to figure out why you had been so observant. He tried to speak, but his butler beat him to it.

Sebastian chuckled at you and simply said, "I'm simply one hell of a butler."

You chortled. "Great. A butler from hell. Well, I'm not saying that I don't believe you, but I guess if that's all your going to tell me... Off to dinner with the two hell butlers then..."

You were dead serious, yet speaking lightly as if it was nothing. Alois and Ciel watched with confused and slightly wondering expressions, but Sebastian... Sebastian eyed you like you were an interesting little bug.

The dinner table was set magnificently, and you were surprised to see that the color of the room had changed from the gaudy gold and red to a nice and calming assortment of pale purples, grays, silver, whites, and other dark colors. You smiled broadly.

"Ah, now this is beautiful~ No more of those disgusting colors the fool left behind..." you sighed.

Watching you with a strange look, Ciel asked, "You don't mean the previous head of the Trancy house?"

"Of course I do. The bloody man harassed me," you stated with a certain sharpness to your tongue.

Ciel chuckled. "Not very secretive about your opinions either."

You shrugged. "Sometimes it just slips out. However, I don't think that you are much into making a big deal or gossip about how the younger daughter of the (Last Name) House was bashing the late Trancy head. I think you have better things to do than things as petty as that."

Giving a small smile, he agreed with you. "Of course I'm not into that nonsense. But how clever of you. Able to tell what's in a person's head right when you meet them."

"It comes with the gambling," was all you said back.

Alois was silent for a while, glaring daggers into Ciel while grinning a sadistic smile. Speaking up, he asked, "So Phantomhive, what did bring you here to the Trancy manor?"

Ciel cleared his throat, then went back to emotionless yet anger underneath the skin. "I was coming for a... sword. But you seem a bit busy to give it to me now."

Alois smiled. "Ah, that. Yes, I do believe I am a bit busy at the moment. The back isn't even set up for you... What a shame. I do invite you to come some other time though."

You had been staring down at your food during their small exchange of words, but now you looked at them curiously. "So Ciel came for a duel? How very interesting..."

The black haired boy starting explaining rather agitated, "No. I've come for a sword. There is nothing like a duel going on."

You raised and eyebrow and looked at Ciel with an expression that read 'Are you seriously believing that I would buy that?'

Sighing, he turned back to his food. Alois, however, was ready to talk. "Fine, (Name). We were planning a duel. It seems that I had upset him at one of his parties and now we are just having a little go at the sword to relieve some tension. Right Phantomhive?"

Ciel looked up and nodded grimly at you. Alois seemed convincing... You decided to just skip the questions and assumptions and believe him. You nodded and looked back down.

"Goodbye Phantomhive~ Hope we can do battle later!" Alois called after the carriage that was pulling away, waving happily. Once the carriage turned the bend, Alois looked at you with unhappiness and annoyance.

"What's with the look?" you asked.

"He wouldn't stop looking and talking to you..." he grumbled, his shoulders slouching and his blonde hair covering up his face. He trudged past you in a pathetic state.

"Hmm? I don't understand what the big deal is," you argued. Walking behind him, watching him, baffled.

"(Name)... I'm sorry, but but... You're mine!" he cried, tears almost swimming in his eyes. But this voice was out of anger. He was genuinely furious that Ciel had been talking with you!

Blinking, you took a step back. "Pardon?"

Alois turned and walked toward you, saying things rapidly. "I told you, you're perfect! I'm sorry but... I just got upset that you were angry and getting along well with the Phantomhives! Please... Don't leave me!" Alois cried to you.

Realizing something, you patted his shoulder. Alois... Really hated being alone. It was almost like he had abandonment issues. He told you his story that you halfway believed about the old town that he lived in, but could he really be lonely from a life lived with separation? "Alois, I'm going to stay with you until my father gets home. I'm not leaving till then, alright?"

He looked like a child, sniffling and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. Nodding glumly, he hugged you tightly.

Generally shocked, you slightly gasped then sighed. "Someone hurt you didn't they?"

He nodded into your shoulder.

"It's okay. I'm not going to. I promise, okay?" you offered.

Sniffling again, he argued back, "But, what if you're lying to me? What if your promise isn't good enough?"

You thought about that. It seemed that you would have to promise on something worthy for him to calm down and accept the fact that you wouldn't try to hurt him. "Hmm... Okay then... I promise on my dreams for becoming a pirate that I won't hurt you."

Pausing, Alois considered this. He chuckled at the silly promise and hugged you again. "Thank you (Name)..."
Whoooo!!! Third one out~
Okay, I finally buckled down, got inspired and wrote. Next up is Ouran.... TO THE TV!!!!
Haha, hope you enjoy~

Part 4~[link]
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"Are you all right, Eric?"

"...yeah. I'm heading back to Alan. See you tomorrow."

Eric had long since grown used to the pitying looks and ignored them all. The fight wasn't worth it any more. Not when his world was slipping away like sand sinking grain by grain by grain... There was no hope, no cure, no mention even in folklore. He still pretended to stay positive though, for Alan's sake. They had sorrows enough.

Tutting, Eric rolled his shirt sleeve back down, numb and unsurprised to find he had made the walk from his office to the new living quarters on auto-pilot again. He rarely remembered taking his blazer off either but Eric could never get used to the daily injections no matter how out of it he was. Still, at least the evening jab served as a reminder to put on a smile before Alan saw him.


Alan's health was so fragile that nowadays they lived under controlled conditions. Both of them. That fight had been worth it. It had taken Eric dropping his usual laid back attitude to kick up a fuss and scream "of course he bloody knew" about the rarity of the situation before the powers that be took them in as a pair. He and Alan, together as they should be. Even when it meant living under observation. Still, they adapted, they changed, they found a way to carry on together as they always had.

But to see Alan treated as a test subject made him feel sick. Alan deserved better than this. He was pale to begin with but being cooped up all day was starting to turn him ghostly. Sure, Eric wasn't a fan of being jabbed but it was better than the alternative. While they were not exactly living in quarantine Alan's defences were now so low simply walking into the room in a cloud of tobacco smoke was enough to give his lover a coughing fit which led to Alan panicking then collapsing in agony when even the small exertion triggered the Thorns of Death. Eric's jabs and occasional blood tests were a precaution; he couldn't risk catching anything and then passing it on.

It was strange though, Alan the reaper reacting similar to how an ill human might. Eric had once let slip how similar the new developments were to previous cases he had reaped but it made Alan look at him like he was crazy so Eric didn't mention it again. Now he had thought about it he could see even drawing the comparison had been tactless in the extreme, but Eric's sleeping patterns were inconsistent these days and sometimes his concentration slipped.

Alan slept a lot. Eric could spend entire off-duty days barely even blinking while he watched his partner rest. Alan never nagged him about it now if he caught him sitting staring. They both knew.

Quitting his baccy and booze was child's play compared to watching his partner's slow decline. He couldn't even vent his frustrations out on the job because Eric's rota had been changed to desk duty. Only desk duty. He understood. It wouldn't do to be out on the field, or worse mid-battle, if Alan took a turn for the worse.... Oh gods, he really didn't want to think about that.

One day a reaper, some forgettable prat wearing the new style white suit, had stopped by Eric's office and began talking about Alan in the past tense until Eric shut him up with a smash of his fist, taking no pleasure in splattering the other reaper red.

He and Alan had been separated for a while after that little stunt. Alan had found out about the fight and worked himself into such a state thinking over the situation he took a Thorns attack which landed him in intensive care for days on end. Not being allowed to visit had almost killed Eric. The night they were reunited they both wept, struggling to keep things calm. The wracking sobs Eric was tempted to give in to would surely set Alan off and the last thing he wanted to do was trigger a relapse.

Alan's life had a limit.

When their crying was done it was the look of resignation in his partner's eyes after which haunted him far more than reproach would have done, time was trickling away and Eric was selfish to squander it. Guilt was the main reason he hadn't complained when they were moved rooms again, now with both of them being kept an eye on. Being watched more closely put another strain on their sick joke of a relationship, but they learned to whisper their darker conversations at night when only skeleton staff were on duty.

Eric was emphatically not the carey-sharey type of bloke but he had found he needed to talk to his partner, really talk, to keep grounded. Those days without Alan had been hell. Eric must have gone to work during them, he was an exemplary reaper after all, but all he could remember was white walls. Ironic that Alan was his anchor when nowadays the younger reaper was so light he may as well have been weightless. Alan, always his light.


Alan was resting on the bed and Eric was careful not to disturb his partner when he climbed in beside him. He needed his rest.


Eric didn't like this mattress. At home they had worn through more than a few and although a saggy mattress wasn't brilliant, rolling together sometimes led to pleasant unplanned happenings. The only dip he could feel in the mattress he lay on now was around Eric himself.

He teased Alan about being only skin and bone but for him to be so very light was worrying. Maybe it was a good thing Alan's body was hidden away by the provided pajamas. Boring brown and red pajamas with a pattern of old man paisley ...a pattern which didn't show up blood speckles too badly when his partner had a prolonged coughing fit. The only other option was floral and Alan had outlined in no uncertain terms what Eric would not be having the privilege of if he even joked about him looking pretty in girls' clothes.

Alan was though. Pretty as girl. Prettier. Even when he woke Eric one night with a scared confession to clumps of hair coming away while he combed. Bless Alan, fussing over his chestnut locks just like a girl. Thinning hair for a reaper was worrying, but Eric managed not to show his concern and simply paid more attention to Alan's hair than usual. Just in case. Eric subtly took note of its colour, its texture, how that long sweeping fringe framed Alan's delicate features perfectly. His lover's crowning glory was back to normal in a few days and Eric mentally breathed a sigh of relief before thinking no more of it. Sometimes Alan's medication did odd things.

They were ok for the moment though. Apart from the mattress. It smelt wrong. It barely registered his partner's scent at all even when Alan was right there next to him. Eric hated this mattress. Much better to forget all about it for a while and make the most of his boyfriend being awake and smiling gently.

Alan's touch was so light nowadays, this was like kissing a memory. They used to kiss properly. Why couldn't they kiss properly? Ok, so Alan was... ill but a real kiss couldn't do that much harm surely. Eric lifted his hand, intent on slipping it into his lover's silky hair to hold him close, but Alan moved out of range before he could touch him.

"Eric... I can't... I'm sorry, Eric. But I, ah, I don't mind when you... you know."

If Alan blushed any brighter he was going to burn pillow away and Eric didn't have any words, staring mutely at his "lover" before he closed his eyes and rolled over onto his side, his back now to the other reaper. It was noticeable Alan was not even letting his back touch Eric's.

Alan minded, of course he minded. Eric knew. There was once a time when they couldn't get enough of each other, to go solo felt like betrayal.

Dead silence in the room. Sometimes he hated that reapers didn't have to breathe.


The two of them were going on a trip today. Alan wanted to see the ericas so Eric was going to bust him out of here, he hadn't figured out how yet, but where they were going was a real beauty spot. Tall, sturdy trees and a pretty little weir further on down the lane. He would have to encourage Alan to lean on him if they went down that way though, it was slippery and all manner of things got smashed on the rocks. Eric had even imagined he had seen a deathscythe wedged blade side up there once. It was dangerous. As was dwelling too long on that line of thought.

Besides, Alan was the sentimental one out of the two of them, filling their flat, their real home, with useless knick-knacks although lately it had been Eric smuggling things into these borrowed rooms ready for the flit. A dinner knife here, a tester pot of jam there. Eric wasn't sure where Alan was stashing them as he could never find them again when looked for them.

But Alan was going to have scones. He loved scones. Sometimes, if they had been getting on really well, Alan would be cheeky about the cream but right now the poor boy was fading away. Alan was practically see-through with barely any meat on his bones to keep the heat in and Eric found it disgusting that the Dispatch's budget was so tight this bedroom had big puffy wall coverings instead of a proper fire. Still, it was warm in here, even feverish at times. He put up with it for Alan's sake; he didn't want to see his partner with ashen skin and pale lips again.

On days like today, when Eric found it too stuffy, he had taken to lazing around shirtless. He would dress properly before they stole away in the night but right now they were simply relaxing together, Alan ghosting his fingers over Eric's fringe while he rested. This was nice. Peaceful. Eric smiled without opening his eyes when Alan kissed his forehead and whispered that he would be right back, padding away at roughly the same time Eric became aware of the steps in the corridor.

With a sigh the tall reaper hauled himself off the bed and stood to greet the visitors. Alan would probably nag him about being improper but the stuffed suits who had burst into the room after only the most cursory of knocks had started it by being bloody rude.

"Eric Slingby. With regret, it is the decision of the board to euthanize-"

What?! NO! This could not be happening. They were so close, so damned close.... This trip was going to be the last one anyway, why couldn't they let Alan see something beautiful before he drifted away like snow. One last look at the stars. Oh gods, he didn't want to think about that. What were they saying? He had missed a few words.

"-unfit to carry out duties despite repeated-"

Thank gods Alan was in the next room, it would break his heart to hear that. It was the only reason Eric was keeping silent, for now. This was serious stuff though. Alan really should know what the charges were before they argued against them. Where was that bloody door? All the insulated walls looked the same but his clever boyfriend had the knack of finding the way into the other room. All right. The hard way. Eric began calling for his partner and planned, if he had to, to cut through the reapers between them and the door he could see. He and Alan had a date today.

"-and varied treatments, prolonged due to exceptional past services rendered. All rehabilitation attempts have failed-"

How many suits were there? Two, no, four. Six? Reap it, they were hard to focus on when his vision was blurring. He would figure out what was making his eyes water later, for now better to focus on the reapers closest to him and work from there. So. One reaper helping him to sit and another taking his arm. That was kind, Eric was feeling a bit shocky. He raised his voice still further. Where was his boyfriend? T'ch! Couldn't the evening injection have waited? The surprise made his voice crack. He could have sworn he had already had his jab today. Where the hell was Alan? Eric would stop shouting just as soon as his partner came back.

"-since the death of Alan Humphries, eighteen months previous."


Summary: Eric's world was slipping away like sand sinking grain by grain by grain...

Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji created by Yana Toboso

Eric/Alan. Oneshot. Contains character death. Alternative Title: The Great Pretender

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