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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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"The Blue Cat"

Shanks x Ranmao!Reader

In which you are like Ranmao from Black Butler, and you happen to meet the oh so famous Red Haired Shanks

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The island was quiet, its stillness almost unnatural. Even the waves seemed hesitant to crash too loudly against the shore. Shanks had been to many places, but this place—this moment—felt different.

He stepped onto the worn wooden docks, the air thick with something unspoken. The locals watched him from the corners of their eyes, some whispering, some slipping away into alleyways. It wasn’t fear of him. No, this was something else.

Then he saw you.

Perched on the edge of a rooftop, you sat with an effortless stillness, legs crossed, arms resting lightly on your lap. Your expression was unreadable, and your gaze was heavy despite its lack of clear intent. You did not fidget, did not blink unnecessarily—you simply existed, like a force of nature that required no announcement.

Shanks had seen many warriors, many rulers, but few people carried power in their silence. You did.

“You’re an interesting sight,” he mused, his grin lazy but his instincts sharp. “Didn’t expect to find someone like you out here.”

You tilted your head slightly, observing him with an intensity that sent a ripple through the air. A predator sizing up an unknown presence. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, yet it carried weight.

"And I didn’t expect an emperor to wander into my path."

Your tone was neither hostile nor welcoming. It was simply fact.

Shanks chuckled, placing a hand on his hip. "Guess today’s full of surprises."

Shanks took another step forward, watching for a reaction. Nothing. No flinch, no shift in stance—just the same stillness, like a blade waiting to be unsheathed. He whistled low.

“Most people get antsy when I stand this close,” he mused, hands resting on his belt. “But you? You don’t even blink.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him with that unreadable gaze. “Should I?”

That answer made him grin. It wasn’t arrogance. It wasn’t defiance. It was pure, unwavering confidence. You knew exactly what you were capable of, and that alone made his pulse quicken with intrigue.

Shanks let out a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “You’ve got an interesting way about you. Can’t say I’ve met many like you before.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you simply stood, the movement slow, deliberate. Even that was calculated—like a tiger stretching before the pounce.

“You talk too much,” you finally said.

Shanks barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” His grin didn’t fade, but his stance shifted, just slightly. “You, on the other hand, seem to be the type who lets actions do the talking.”

Another beat of silence stretched between you both, heavier this time. You stepped forward, closing the space between you with a grace that contradicted the sheer weight of your presence. When you finally stopped, you were close—close enough that he could feel the pressure rolling off you like an untamed storm.

Then, in a voice quiet but firm, you said:

“Show me you’re worth my time.”

Shanks exhaled, the excitement thrumming beneath his skin. Oh, he liked you already.

“Now that,” he said, rolling his shoulders, “sounds like an invitation.”

Shanks chuckled, his hand drifting lazily toward his sword. He wasn’t one to draw first—not unless the moment truly called for it—but the way you looked at him, as if weighing his worth, sent a thrill through him.

The breeze rolled in from the sea, rustling through the trees, but neither of yoy moved. It wasn’t a stalemate; it was a question hanging in the air.

Then you struck.

No warning, no wasted motion. One second, you were standing still, and the next, you were in front of him, your foot slicing toward his ribs with devastating force.

Shanks barely had time to react. He twisted, narrowly avoiding the impact, the wind of your strike brushing against his coat like a whisper of destruction.

His grin widened. “Fast.”

You didn’t reply—didn’t need to. You were already moving again. Another strike, low this time, aimed to sweep his legs from beneath him. He leaped back, his boots skidding against the ground as he put distance between you both.

Shanks whistled, shaking out his arm. “Alright, alright. You’re not here to chat.” He flexed his fingers, the thrill of battle sparking in his blood. “Let’s see how much fun you really are.”

This time, he moved first. He didn’t bother with his sword—not yet. Instead, he lunged, aiming a precise strike toward your shoulder. A test.

You caught his wrist mid-swing.

The sheer strength in your grip made his brows lift in surprise, but he had no time to react before you twisted, throwing him back with an effortless motion.

Shanks landed on his feet, sliding to a stop. He shook out his arm, laughing. “Damn. You’re stronger than you look.”

You didn’t gloat. Didn’t smirk. Just watched him with that same unreadable gaze, waiting.

Shanks wiped a thumb across his nose, still grinning.

“Well now,” he said, drawing his sword at last, “this just got interesting.”

A flicker of something sharp flashed in your gaze as Shanks drew his sword. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t hesitation. It was anticipation.

Then, with a swift motion, you reached behind your back, drawing two heavy chuí—steel spheres attached to short, thick handles. The weapons gleamed in the dim light, their weight undeniable, but you held them as if they were weightless.

Shanks arched a brow. “Interesting choice.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you moved.

Your first strike came down like a meteor. Shanks sidestepped, barely dodging as the chuí slammed into the earth, shattering stone beneath it. The impact sent a tremor through the ground, dust billowing into the air.

Shanks whistled. “Alright, that would’ve hurt.”

You didn’t let up. The second chuí came in a sweeping arc, aiming for his ribs. This time, he met it head-on, catching the blow with his blade. The force rattled through him, strong enough that a lesser man might have lost his grip.

But he wasn’t a lesser man.

He twisted, guiding the momentum away, and stepped into your guard. A grin pulled at his lips as he moved faster than she could counter—his fist slamming into your stomach.

You staggered, just barely, but it was the opening he needed.

In a blur, Shanks kicked one of your chuí aside, throwing off your balance. Before you could recover, he caught your wrist, twisting your arm just enough to make you release the second. It hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Then, with a swift pivot, he hooked his leg behind yours and drove you down.

You hit the ground hard, but Shanks was already there, his sword pressed lightly against your throat—not cutting, just resting. A silent declaration.

He chuckled, leaning down slightly. “Looks like I win this round.”

Your breathing was steady, but your body remained still beneath him. Not out of surrender, but calculation. Even now, you were measuring your next move.

Shanks smirked. “Go on. Try something.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then, after what felt like an eternity, you exhaled and let your muscles relax.

Shanks lifted his sword, stepping back and offering a hand. “Not bad. You almost had me a couple of times.”

You ignored the hand, pushing yourself up on your own. Dust clung to your skin, but your expression was the same—calm, unreadable.

Finally, you spoke. “You’re not what I expected.”

Shanks laughed. “I get that a lot.”

For the first time, something like amusement flickered across your face. It was brief, but he caught it. And just like that, he knew this wasn’t the last time you’d cross paths.

It had only been a few days since their fight, but Shanks could already tell—he wasn’t alone.

The island was quiet at night, save for the occasional rustling of leaves or the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. His crew had made camp near the shore, laughter and drunken banter filling the air. But beyond the firelight, in the spaces where the shadows stretched deep—you were there.

Watching.

You were good. Silent, controlled, moving only when necessary. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. But Shanks wasn’t most people.

Sitting by the fire, he poured himself another drink, lifting the cup to his lips. “Y’know,” he muttered, voice just loud enough to carry into the trees, “if you’re gonna keep hovering like that, you might as well join me.”

No response. Not that he expected one.

He smirked to himself, shaking his head.

It wasn’t the first time someone had tailed him, but this wasn’t the usual sort of attention. No thirst for revenge, no lurking bloodlust. Just quiet, unwavering presence.

He stretched, leaning back on one arm, letting the flames warm his skin. “Suit yourself,” he said lightly, lifting his drink again. “I don’t mind an audience.”

Still, there was no movement. There was no sign that you were even there. But he knew.

The night was calm, the sea breeze carrying the scent of salt and embers from the dwindling campfire. Shanks sat with a lazy grin, sipping his drink as his crew laughed and told stories.

Then, it happened.

A shift in the air. The kind of silence that wasn’t natural.

Shanks’ fingers twitched around his cup. Before he could react, a figure lunged from the darkness—silent, precise, blade glinting under the moonlight, aiming straight for his throat.

His crew moved in an instant. Lucky Roux reached for his gun, Yasopp’s hand was already on his rifle, and Benn Beckman barely tilted his head, his sharp eyes following the assassin’s trajectory.

But before any of them could act—

The attacker stopped mid-motion.

No, not stopped.

Something else had moved first.

A faint shimmer in the air, a whisper of wind, and then—blood.

The assassin’s body jerked, stiffened—before collapsing to the ground, a clean slash across his throat. Dead before he even hit the dirt.

Silence.

Only those with trained eyes—those with Observation Haki—had seen it. A flicker of motion. A shadow tearing through the night, striking faster than most could register.

Shanks lowered his drink, setting the cup down with deliberate slowness. His grin had faded, replaced by something thoughtful.

The crew stayed on guard, eyes scanning the dark.

Yasopp exhaled through his nose, resting a hand on his hip. “Hmph. Fast.”

Beckman’s gaze flickered to the trees. “She’s still here.”

Shanks hummed. His grin returned, slow and intrigued. “Well, now… that’s interesting.”

The air was thick with tension, the scent of blood still fresh. The assassin’s body lay motionless, but the true presence—his unseen guardian—remained just beyond the firelight.

Shanks exhaled, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “Now that’s something,” he mused, stretching his legs out lazily. “Quick, clean… almost unfair.”

His crew didn’t relax just yet. Beckman kept his eyes on the darkness, Yasopp’s fingers tapped against his rifle, and Lucky Roux grinned, clearly impressed.

Shanks, though? He just reached for the sake bottle.

He poured himself another drink, then grabbed a second cup, filling it to the brim. With a casual flick of his wrist, he raised it toward the shadows.

“C’mon now,” he called out, his voice light, teasing. “If you’re gonna go through all that trouble for me, the least you can do is have a drink.”

Silence.

Then, a faint shift in the air. A rustle of movement, too quick for the untrained eye.

And just like that, the cup was gone.

Shanks smirked, bringing his own drink to his lips. “Hah. Thought so.”

The crew exchanged glances, but no one questioned it.

Somewhere out in the dark, you were there. Still watching. Still waiting.

Shanks had just taken another sip when the air shifted again—faster this time, closer. Before anyone could react, a weight settled onto his lap, smooth and effortless, as if it had always belonged there.

The crew tensed.

Shanks, however, merely arched a brow, amusement flickering across his face.

You were finally out of the shadows.

Silent as ever, you perched on his lap, poised yet utterly relaxed, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t speak. Didn’t explain. Just sat there, your presence as steady and unshaken as before.

Shanks let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s one way to make an entrance.”

The crew stared, some in shock, others in restrained amusement. Yasopp muttered something under his breath, while Lucky Roux just grinned and took another bite of meat. Beckman exhaled, shaking his head but saying nothing.

Shanks, meanwhile, tilted his head at you. “Y’know, most people start with a handshake.”

You said nothing. Just reached for the cup he had offered earlier and drank.

Shanks chuckled. “Hah. Alright, can’t say I mind.” He leaned back slightly, his grin widening. “Guess that means you’re sticking around, huh?”

Still, no answer. But you didn’t move away.

Shanks just smirked and took another drink.

The night had settled into an easy rhythm—laughter, drinking, and the occasional glance toward you, still perched on Shanks’ lap as if you had always belonged there. You hadn’t spoken, hadn’t explained yourself. But you hadn’t moved either.

Shanks rested his arm over the back of the log he sat on, lazily swirling the sake in his cup. His crew had relaxed, though the occasional side-eye from Yasopp and Beckman showed they were still processing the situation.

Then, with the same casual ease he approached everything, Shanks broke the silence.

“Well,” he mused, “since you’re not in a hurry to leave… how ‘bout you stay?”

Your fingers, still lightly gripping the now-empty cup, twitched.

Shanks smirked. “Join my crew.”

The fire crackled. The waves rolled in the distance. The crew fell into expectant silence, all waiting for your answer.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, your expression unreadable. But you weren’t surprised. As if you had already decided long before he asked.

“…Alright.”

That was all you said. No hesitation. No deliberation. Just simple, unwavering agreement.

Shanks’ grin widened. “Heh. Just like that?”

You nodded once.

His crew exchanged glances, but no one protested. After all, they had just witnessed firsthand what you were capable of.

Shanks chuckled, taking another sip. “Well then, welcome aboard.”

You said nothing. But you stayed exactly where you were.

And that was answer enough.

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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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"Imma Fight A Man!"

Sebastian x Cat Girl Hybrid!Reader

Ur his gf who is also a cat girl teehee.

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Sebastian Michaelis had seen a great many things in his time, but his beloved cat-girl companion was perhaps the most peculiar entity he had ever encountered. Not because of her feline ears or the tail that twitched whenever she got too excited—no, it was her personality that baffled him.

Their first meeting had been entirely accidental. While patrolling the manor grounds one evening, he had spotted a small, sleek black cat darting through the gardens. At first, he had merely observed, amused by the creature’s seemingly deliberate attempts to evade him. But when he had reached out, intent on scooping up the little feline, it had abruptly shifted form—transforming from a simple house cat into a bewildered young woman right before his eyes.

She had frozen, ears flattened against her head, tail puffed up in alarm before dashing off once more. Intrigued, Sebastian had effortlessly pursued her, cornering her in a secluded alcove. Instead of fear, however, she had simply pouted, arms crossed as she declared, "That was so unfair. You can’t just chase a lady like that!"

Amused beyond reason, he had extended an offer. "If you’re going to skulk about the manor in feline form, you might as well make yourself useful. How does employment sound?"

Despite some initial skepticism, she had accepted, her curiosity outweighing her wariness. Thus began their unusual arrangement, and from the very first day, Sebastian had realized he had acquired the most chaotic assistant imaginable.

She was, in the simplest terms, a walking contradiction. Clumsy to the point of tripping over nothing, yet possessing the fearless tenacity of a guinea pig ready to throw paws over the slightest injustice. She would face down a pack of wolves if one so much as looked at her the wrong way, yet she could hardly go five minutes without knocking over a tea tray or tripping on the manor’s carpets.

Today, she was proving both these traits simultaneously.

Sebastian watched with passive amusement as you stumbled through the manor halls, nearly toppling over a small side table in your rush. Your ears were perked forward with determination, tail bristled like you were preparing for battle. He sighed, already knowing exactly what was about to happen.

“Mister Sebastian!” you called, breathless and wild-eyed. “There’s a grave injustice occurring in the kitchen!”

He raised a single brow, the very picture of calm. “Is there?”

“Yes!” You huffed, placing your hands on your hips. “The lettuce in the salad is wilted!"

Sebastian blinked slowly. “...I see.”

“I refuse to stand idly by while our leafy comrades suffer such disgrace!” You stomped a foot, which would have been quite dramatic had you not lost your balance in the process. With an undignified yelp, you pitched forward. Sebastian, ever the graceful demon, caught you effortlessly before you could hit the floor.

“You should be more careful, my dear,” he murmured, holding you just close enough to fluster you. “One might think you charge into battle before checking your footing.”

You pouted, ears flattening in frustration. “It’s not my fault the floor is slippery.”

“The floor is not slippery.”

You ignored this, already wriggling out of his hold with renewed energy. “We must replace the lettuce! It’s a matter of honor!"

Sebastian let out the softest of sighs but found himself following as you stormed toward the kitchen with all the fury of a warrior marching to war. Once there, you dramatically pointed at the offending salad, making Baldroy, who had been minding his own business, flinch in confusion.

“This. Is. Unacceptable!” you declared. “Baldroy, how could you let this happen?!”

Baldroy blinked at you, then at Sebastian, who merely gave a small shrug. “Uh… it’s just lettuce?”

“Just lettuce?!” you gasped, looking positively betrayed. “Would you eat just an overcooked steak? No! Lettuce deserves better!”

Sebastian watched you, amusement flickering behind his crimson eyes. For all your clumsiness, for all your absurdity, you were entirely serious about this. And, perhaps more troubling, you were so incredibly endearing when you got like this.

Baldroy let out a tired sigh, rubbing the back of his head. “Sebastian, you seriously gonna let her go on like this? It’s salad, not life or death.”

Sebastian, however, wasn’t listening to Baldroy in the slightest. Instead, his gaze was entirely fixated on you—more specifically, on the little pink paw pads peeking out as you crossed your arms in defiance. Your twitching ears, your indignant puffed-up tail—it was all absurdly captivating. He reached out, casually smoothing a hand over your bristled ears, watching in satisfaction as they flicked under his touch.

“You truly are relentless,” he mused, his fingers scratching lightly behind your ears, making your tail flick. “Very well. We shall ensure the lettuce meets your high standards.”

You beamed, all earlier frustration vanishing in an instant. “Really?”

“Of course. I would hate to see you go to battle over such a grievous crime.”

You giggled, bumping your head against his shoulder in an affectionate nuzzle. “You’re the best, Sebastian.”

He merely smiled, though there was something knowing in the way his eyes gleamed. “Indeed.”

Before you could react, he scooped you up into his arms with effortless grace, cradling you as if you weighed nothing. A surprised squeak escaped you, ears twitching as you instinctively curled closer to him.

“S-Sebastian!”

He gazed down at you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “You are far too excitable for your own good. I believe you need a moment to calm down.”

Your tail flicked indignantly, but your face grew warm as you buried it against his chest. “I was not that excitable…”

“Mm, of course,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “And I suppose you weren’t about to challenge the kitchen staff to a duel over lettuce either.”

You huffed, cheeks burning. “That’s different!”

Baldroy sighed heavily, crossing his arms and looking at Sebastian with a deadpan expression. “You’re really just gonna let her get away with this, huh?”

Sebastian, still entirely enamored with you, idly ran a finger over your soft paw pads, watching with amusement as your fingers twitched in response. “I fail to see a problem, Baldroy. After all, one must have some standards.”

Baldroy threw his hands up in exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

Sebastian merely adjusted his hold on you, looking down at your flustered expression with quiet satisfaction.

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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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Fire Makes The World Go Round

Baldroy x Reader

In which you are a cocky little lolita dressing maid and you help Baldroy cook.

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The scent of something burning filled the air as you stepped into the kitchen, your frilly Lolita dress swishing around your ankles. You wrinkled your nose, watching as Baldroy wrestled with a pan that was dangerously close to catching fire.

“You do realize cooking doesn’t require that much fire, right?” you teased, leaning against the counter.

Baldroy shot you a look, waving his spatula dismissively. “Listen, doll, I’ve got my way of doin’ things. You fancy types like everything neat and proper—I like a little firepower.”

You smirked. “I’ve noticed. Though, if you wanted me to stick around and watch, you could’ve just asked instead of nearly setting the kitchen ablaze.”

He scoffed, but you caught the slight flicker of pink dusting his ears. “Yeah, yeah. You got a real sharp tongue, y’know that?”

“Why, thank you.” You curtsied dramatically, winking up at him.

Before Baldroy could reply, the pan let out a sudden BOOM, sending black smoke curling into the air. Coughing, you took a step back, fanning your face. “Impressive, truly, but I think I’ll take my meals elsewhere.”

Baldroy groaned, pulling the pan off the burner with a muttered curse. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You giggled, tapping a finger to your lips. “Oh, sweetheart, I’d never. You’re far too entertaining.”

Before he could protest, you slipped behind him, placing your hands over his. “Let’s not burn the manor down, shall we?”

Baldroy stiffened as you guided his hands with your own, adjusting his grip on the pan. Your touch was light, but the warmth of you pressed against his back sent an unfamiliar thrill down his spine. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on anything but the way you felt so close.

“See?” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “A little patience, a little care… and suddenly, breakfast isn’t a battlefield.”

His grip tightened on the spatula as you nudged his arms into the proper motion, helping him flip the eggs before they could suffer the same fate as the previous disasters. The moment stretched, heavy with something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.

Finally, you pulled away, twirling on your heel with a satisfied hum. “And that’s how it’s done!” With a little flourish, you clasped your hands together and grinned. “After all, a spoonful of charm makes everything perfect!”

Baldroy exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well… maybe I’ll get the hang of it someday.”

You leaned in, just enough for him to catch the sparkle in your eyes. “Oh, Baldroy, I believe in you. And if you ever need a helping hand…” you lifted your lace-gloved fingers and wiggled them playfully, “you know where to find me.”

Baldroy turned back to the stove quickly, muttering something about ‘damn fancy words’ under his breath, but the pink creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Just as he was about to plate the eggs, a bit of yolk splattered onto his cheek. Before he could wipe it away, you leaned in with a coy hum and, instead of using your finger, licked it right off his cheek. Your tongue barely grazed his skin before you pulled back with a giggle. “Mmm~ Not bad, Baldroy.”

He practically jumped back, nearly knocking over a pot in the process. “What the bloody hell—?!”

You chuckled, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Oh, Baldroy, you’re so easy to fluster~”

His face was practically on fire now, and he fumbled for words. “Y-yeah, well… ain’t used to folks goin’ around lickin’ me like that!”

You cooed, stepping closer again, your fingers lightly trailing up his arm. “Oh? So you like when I get a little close?”

Baldroy nearly dropped the pan.

“I—uh—I mean—”

You giggled, reaching up to straighten his bandana teasingly. “Relax, darling. It’s just a little fun.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, eyes darting to the side. “You’re trouble, y’know that?”

You batted your lashes innocently. “Moi? Oh, Baldroy, I’m nothing but a delightful little helper~”

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, but you caught the small, begrudging smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, doll.”

As you twirled out of the kitchen, skirts swishing, Baldroy exhaled, shaking his head. You were gonna be the death of him.

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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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You Did Me A Favor, Cuz I Opened My Eyes!

The Phantomhive Household with a Fallen Angel Emily!Reader as a maid!

In which you, a fallen angel, join the Phantomhive Household!

Cw: The reader is like Emily from Hazbin Hotel if she fell.

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The rain poured relentlessly, washing away the filth of London’s streets as the night stretched on in eerie silence. Sebastian Michaelis stepped carefully through the cobbled alleyway, his polished shoes untouched by the grime beneath him. The scent of blood and something far more peculiar—divine yet tainted—drew his attention to a heap of white and gold crumpled against a wall.

He stopped, tilting his head in mild curiosity.

A woman, wings splayed and broken, lay sprawled in the alley, her [h/c] locks matted with rain and dirt. Her once-pristine feathers were a mess of blood and snapped quills, twitching ever so slightly as she groaned in pain. She was an angel—or at least, she had been. Now, she was something less, something discarded. How delightful.

Sebastian crouched beside her, the dim glow of his crimson eyes flickering in amusement. “Oh dear, what a tragic sight. Did Heaven grow tired of you, little dove?”

The woman groaned, turning over to blink up at him. Despite her sorry state, her bright eyes sparkled with a strange, almost ditzy warmth. “Oh wow! Hi there, handsome! You got, like, the most dramatic voice ever. It’s so cool! Who are you? Oh! Are you an actor? I bet you’d be really good at playing, like, an evil prince or something! Super spooky vibes.”

Sebastian blinked. Once. Then twice. Ah. This was going to be insufferable.

“I am one hell of a butler,” he said smoothly, offering her a gloved hand. “And you, my dear, seem to be in desperate need of assistance.”

She took his hand eagerly, her grip surprisingly strong as she pulled herself upright—only to immediately wince and slump against him. “Owie—ugh, my everything hurts. Feathers aren’t supposed to bend that way, right?” She flexed one mangled wing, feathers falling out like an unfortunate pillow fight aftermath. “Oh wow, this is, like, really bad, huh?”

Sebastian hummed, barely hiding his smirk. “Yes, well, I suppose plucked poultry is never quite as elegant as one would hope.”

She gasped. “Oh my gosh! Are you calling me a chicken?! Rude! I’m, like, way cuter than a chicken. Have you seen my wings? Or, well, what’s left of them? Angelic, babe.”

“I would never dream of it,” he replied, the picture of innocence. “Though, if the feathers fit…”

She huffed, pouting as she tried—and failed—to flick his forehead. “You’re kinda mean, y’know that?”

“And yet, you are still clinging to me.”

She looked down, realizing she was, in fact, still latched onto his arm. “Oh! Whoopsie-daisy!” She laughed, letting go—only to immediately wobble on her feet. “Okaaaay, maybe not the best idea.”

Sebastian sighed, feigning reluctance as he caught her again. “It would seem you are rather incapable of fending for yourself in this state. How… unfortunate.”

She gasped dramatically, eyes wide with realization. “Wait! You’re totally right! I can’t, like, do anything right now. Oh no, does that mean I’m homeless? That’s so sad!”

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Tragic, indeed.” He paused, considering his options. “As it so happens, I may be able to offer you a position.”

Her ears perked up—figuratively, of course. “Oh! Like, a job? Wow! I’ve never had one of those before! What do I do? Is it fun? Do I get to wear a cute outfit?”

A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Oh, I assure you, it will be… quite the experience.”

She clapped her hands excitedly, completely missing the underlying menace in his tone. “Yay! This is gonna be awesome! I get to work with you, Mr. Evil Prince Voice? Sign me up!”

Sebastian straightened, offering her his arm once more. “Come along then, little dove. Let’s get you acquainted with your new… home.”

As she beamed up at him, blissfully unaware of the passive-aggressive barbs laced within his every word, Sebastian simply smirked.

Oh yes. This was going to be very entertaining indeed.

---

Finny

The next morning, the fallen angel wandered outside, stretching her sore limbs and flapping her mangled wings experimentally. “Oof, still busted. That’s a bummer.”

A voice called from nearby. “Oh! Are you new?”

She turned and was immediately met with the brightest grin she’d ever seen. Finny, the ever-enthusiastic gardener, waved eagerly, holding a heavy-looking pot in one hand as if it were weightless.

“Oh wow, hi! You’re super strong! Are you, like, part giant?” she asked, tilting her head.

Finny laughed, setting the pot down with ease. “Nope! Just got lucky! I try not to break things, but sometimes it happens anyway.”

She gasped. “Me too! Oh my gosh, we’re, like, totally the same! You’re, like, my new bestie now.”

Finny beamed. “Really? That’s great! Wanna help me with the flowers?”

She clapped excitedly. “Yesss! Gardening time! Oh, oh! Can I wear one of those cute straw hats? I’d totally rock the cottagecore vibe.”

Finny eagerly handed her a hat, and within minutes, the two were elbow-deep in soil, completely forgetting any real tasks as they built tiny dirt castles between planting flowers.

Sebastian, watching from the shadows, pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be a long day.”

---

Mey-Rin

Later in the day, as the fallen angel explored the manor, she nearly collided with a blur of red and brown. Mey-Rin, flustered as always, barely managed to stop herself from toppling over, adjusting her oversized glasses hurriedly.

“Oh dearie me! I—oh! You must be the new girl!” Mey-Rin stammered, clutching a tray full of teacups precariously.

The fallen angel gasped, clasping her hands together. “Oh wow! You’ve got, like, the cutest accent ever! And those glasses! Oh my gosh, you’re adorable!”

Mey-Rin turned beet red. “A-Ah! I-I’m not used to such compliments, miss!”

“Oh! Let me help you with that!” Without thinking, the fallen angel reached out, bumping the tray slightly. In an instant, the teacups went soaring through the air.

Mey-Rin shrieked. “Oh no—!”

Reacting on impulse, the fallen angel lunged forward, attempting to catch them—only to flail and somehow end up entangled in the curtains, hanging upside down as the shattered porcelain littered the floor.

Sebastian arrived just in time to witness the disaster. He sighed deeply. “I see you’ve made yourself quite at home.”

The fallen angel, still dangling, grinned sheepishly. “Oopsie-daisy! So, like… maybe not my best moment?”

Mey-Rin giggled nervously. “Aha… y-yeah… I’ll get the broom…”

---

Baldroy

Even later in the day, the fallen angel wandered into the kitchen, lured by the delicious scent of something… burning?

Baldroy stood at the stove, cigarette hanging from his lips, an explosion of smoke billowing around him. “Damn it, not again!” he coughed, waving a hand at the small fire erupting in the pan.

She gasped. “Oh wow! Fire! That’s so cool!”

Baldroy blinked at her, then back at the flames. “Uh… not really? This ain’t supposed to be happenin’.”

She grabbed a spoon and started fanning the flames. “Maybe if we, like, blow on it real hard?”

Baldroy chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, kid, I got this.” He grabbed a pot lid and smothered the fire in one swift motion. “See? All good.”

She clapped. “Woo! That was, like, so dramatic! You should totally be in a cooking contest.”

He grinned. “You’re a weird one, but I like your energy. Wanna help with dinner?”

She gasped. “Oh my gosh, yes! I can totally stir stuff! Or, like, chop things! Oh! Can I use a knife? Wait, maybe not. I got banned from scissors once.”

Baldroy let out a hearty laugh. “This is gonna be interesting.”

---

Ciel

After barely surviving the kitchen, the fallen angel was led to the grand study, where Ciel Phantomhive sat behind his desk, pen in hand, looking every bit the young noble he was. His sharp blue eye scrutinized her as she stood before him, rocking slightly on her heels.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “My lord, allow me to introduce our newest… acquisition.”

Ciel barely looked up from his work. “Another stray, Sebastian? I didn’t think we were running a shelter.”

The fallen angel gasped dramatically. “Oh my gosh, am I a stray?! Does that make me, like, a super cute lost puppy? I bet I’d be the fluffiest.”

Ciel slowly set down his pen and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sebastian.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“What is this?” He gestured vaguely at her, exasperation growing.

Sebastian smirked. “An angel, my lord.”

Ciel gave him a deadpan stare. “This is an angel?”

“Fallen, technically!” she added cheerfully. “It’s, like, a whole thing.”

Ciel sighed. “And what exactly is she supposed to do here?”

“She will assist in various tasks,” Sebastian replied smoothly. “Though I admit, she is something of an… experiment.”

Ciel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “As long as she doesn’t break anything important.”

The fallen angel gave a thumbs-up. “You got it, boss!”

Ciel narrowed his eyes. “Sebastian, if she causes too much trouble—”

“Oh, my lord,” Sebastian interrupted with a knowing smile. “I wouldn’t dream of letting that happen.”

Ciel sighed again. He already had a headache.

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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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Does anyone even like Black Butler anymore? I started rewatching it, and I'm so hyperfixated on it that it's unreal. It seems it died out... I miss it tbh... let's revive it!! Sorry for extra tags

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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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Alois Trancy X Mother Figure F!Reader

Self-indulgent content ahead you've been warned.

Honestly, I have no idea how you did this. Maybe you were looking for a job, or perhaps you stumbled upon his manor during a storm. Either way, you ended up in Alois's service.

It took a bit; he was very cautious around you. (It's been a while since he had a human servant.)

One night, you were behind on your duties and working overtime. You were just outside his door when he screamed in terror.

You ran to his side and found him breathing heavily, staring at the door as if a monster would storm in any second. But it was just you.

Used to looking after children, you acted on instinct. You sat next to him, took him in your arms, and ran your fingers through his hair. In a gentle, hushed tone, you asked, "What's wrong?"

In that moment, he didn't care if you were being fake; he just craved the feeling of being truly looked after. He didn't tell you what the nightmare was about, but from there, it all changed.

Day 1: He clung to you the whole day. (To his butler's astonishment and dismay.)

Day 4: You were to stop calling him "Your Highness." (Calling him Alois was faster anyway.)

Day 6: You lost all duties that didn't involve him.

Day 10: You moved into his room.

Day 15: He promoted you from your former role to his caretaker alongside Claude.

Day 30: You moved into his room.

Day 31: He started settling down, or so it seemed.

Day 90: "Mother! Help me get dressed!" It was a slip-up. He expected a big reaction, but when it didn't come, it became the norm. Other servants don't like the closeness you share but keep their mouths shut... for now...

From then on, Alois became dependent on you to an unhealthy degree.

He doesn't like you disciplining him much, but surprisingly he lets you, as long as it's not physical.

He developed a major co-sleeping issue. He can't help that your arms are so warm.

He won't admit it, but he likes when you actively baby him—when you say he's too young to handle something, when you wipe something off his cheek, and so on.

He might act a little more clumsy... not on purpose, of course... He didn't usually cry over a small cut or a scraped knee... well, he certainly changed.

You have your own kids? Great! Now he gets to have siblings again! He has to be the favorite, though.

His favorite activity is always going to be when you sit in the library with him in your lap and read him stories.

You can't heal him, but you help him get better and eventually live a happy life...

[Canon end] You were visiting your family when it happened... you only found the body... The guilt nearly killed you, but you lived through it. You never moved on. The image of the body of a boy you came to love haunts you. The most awful feeling, though, is the fact that you can't feel him. It's like someone or something locked his soul away so that you never can feel his presence again.

#ദ്ദി •⩊• ) 💙 Penny Recs ! 💙#black butler x you #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #alois trancy #black butler alois #x reader

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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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🧊 Black Butler Masterlist 🧊

#૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ❄️ Penny x Black Butler ❄️

"Let The Midnight Special Shine On Me!" - Grell Sutcliff x Female!Reader

"You Did Me A Favor, Cuz I Opened My Eyes!" - Phantomhives with a fallen angel Emily!reader

"Fire Makes The World Go Round" - Baldroy x reader

"Imma Fight A Man!" - Sebastian x Cat Girl Hybrid! Reader

#(っ◔◡◔)っ ❄️ penny speaks ❄️#black butler x reader #૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ❄️ Penny x Black Butler ❄️#kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji #black butler x y/n #black butler x you #black butler

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penguiniiii · 4 months ago

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Let the Midnight Special Shine On Me.

Grell Sutcliff x Female!Reader

In which you and your girlfriend, Grell, go on a chaotic adventure!

CW: No rule content warnings tbh. There's no real plot. I just wanted some silliness with my girlie Grell.

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A delicate giggle echoed through the dimly lit streets of London, bouncing off the cobblestone as you swayed on your heels. Your dress clung to every curve, the fabric soft and frilly, as pink as the roses that adorned your hair. The night was young, and the moon cast a silver glow over the world—a perfect evening for trouble.

And trouble always found you in the form of one particular crimson-clad reaper.

“Oh, darling~! You look absolutely ravishing tonight! Like a decadent little treat just waiting to be devoured!” Grell Sutcliff’s voice rang through the alley as she dramatically twirled, her scarlet locks catching the wind like flames in the dark. Her sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and her eyes—hungry, mischievous—devoured every inch of you.

You pouted playfully, twirling a golden curl around your finger. “Oh, Grell~ you’re such a tease! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted a taste.”

Grell placed a gloved hand over her chest, as if wounded. “Oh, my love, how you wound me so! As if I could resist such a divine creature! I’m practically salivating!”

With a flick of her wrist, she leaned in close, breath hot against your skin. Your heart fluttered—whether from excitement or fear, you weren’t sure, but that was the thrill of it, wasn’t it? Being around Grell was like standing too close to a fire. You knew you could get burned, but wasn’t the warmth irresistible?

“You always know how to make a girl feel special,” you cooed, pressing a manicured finger against her lips. “But I have to wonder… how much of that sweet talk is just to get me into trouble?”

Grell’s smirk widened. “Darling, you wound me again! I would never deceive such a beauty… unless, of course, it’s for something deliciously wicked.”

You gasped in mock horror, fanning yourself. “Oh! And here I thought I was the bad influence.”

Grell let out a laugh, a delightful melody of mischief and danger. “Oh, love, we are a match made in heaven—or perhaps, something far more sinful.”

Your fingers intertwined with hers, and for a moment, the night belonged to the two of you. The reaper and the doll-like vision of pink and lace—a combination so unlikely, yet so intoxicating.

And oh, how London would tremble at the chaos you’d weave together.

Grell’s grin turned wicked as she pulled you closer, her fingers curling around your wrist. “Come, my darling! Let’s make this night one for the history books!”

With a giddy squeal, you allowed her to drag you through the winding streets of London. The two of you waltzed through the city like a storm of crimson and pink, leaving gasps and scandalized whispers in your wake. You twirled past high society gatherings, Grell blowing exaggerated kisses to horrified nobles. You slipped into an extravagant ball uninvited, dancing in the center of the floor while Grell dipped you dramatically, her laughter echoing through the grand hall.

But the real chaos came when Grell’s scythe made an appearance.

“Oh, dearest, I do think it’s time we livened things up,” she purred, her blade glinting under the chandelier’s light.

With a wicked grin, you grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped it open, the bubbly liquid spraying across the unsuspecting crowd. “Let’s make some memories, shall we?”

The two of you tore through London’s elite with reckless abandon—not with blood, but with sheer anarchy. Grell knocked over expensive paintings, while you stole hors d'oeuvres off silver trays, giggling as you danced circles around bewildered guards. You both leapt into the night, skirts flying, heels clicking against the rooftops as you made your grand escape, cackling into the wind.

Breathless and exhilarated, you reached the top of a clock tower, balancing on the edge as Grell pulled you close, her hands resting on your waist. The city stretched below, a glittering sea of lights, and the air was thick with excitement.

“Oh, my darling, what a view,” Grell purred, gazing down at the bustling streets. “And to think, none of them down there know what true fun looks like.”

You grinned, tilting your head toward her. “Well, they got a glimpse of it tonight.”

Grell chuckled, the sound warm and sultry. “Indeed, we were magnificent. But tell me, love, do you ever grow tired of running and playing?”

You leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “Never. But I do think we deserve a little break.”

Grell gasped dramatically. “You? The ever-radiant, ever-energetic star of my heart, wanting to rest?” She twirled a lock of your hair between her fingers. “How scandalous.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around her. “Even the most dazzling troublemakers need to recharge. And what better way than…” You traced circles on her back, your voice dropping to a soft purr. “Cuddling?”

Grell let out a delighted squeal. “Oh, my sweet, precious thing! You do know how to make a girl swoon!” She dipped you playfully before sweeping you into her arms. “Shall we find a rooftop just for us?”

You nodded, snuggling into her embrace. “Only if you promise to hold me all night.”

She pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Darling, I wouldn’t dream of letting go.”

And with that, the two of you leapt across the cityscape, hand in hand, until you found the perfect secluded rooftop. Wrapped in Grell’s arms, the warmth of her presence against the chill of the night, you finally let yourself rest—knowing that when the sun rose, chaos would call you both once more.