#dadbastianidentity

[anawkwardlady]

Dadbastian week day 2 : Identity

(poem referenced is The Wolf and the Lamb by Jean de La Fontaine)

The reason of those best able to have their way is always the best: We now show how this is true A lamb was quenching its thirst In the water of a pure stream. A fasting wolf came by, looking for something; He was attracted by hunger to this place.

Humans are grasshoppers. Children are worth even less. After all, they're just beginning to gain a sense of value to humans themselves since it's so easy to make them, to lose them, to make some more. They’re nothing but an unshaped clay of potential for creatures like him. Shaped by knives, intentions and expectations, probable pain— until maybe one day, one or two walks outside, reeking of blood and rage, right into his mouth. And it's been this way since the dawn of time, time he killed for centuries to fill the gaping hole where a soul should be, which he filled with many others. 

When that unshaped clay signed his soul away, the demon signed away his freedom for a mere potential. No choice was left for any of them. He was to take on the role of hands and knives but did not think through it very much. He was himself unshaped clay of somesort, walking within the human skin of a protective adult. The demon looks down on the tiny thing that called him over. 

—What makes you so bold as to meddle with my drinking? Said this animal, very angry. You will be punished for your boldness

The now Butler looks at his wet gloved hands. They burn. Pain of the flesh is inconsequential, he could get a new one some time soon, it's a foreign feeling, while obviously unpleasant. Like maybe cutting a finger up while dreaming away. Pain of the ego however rings through his entire body. The unshaped clay now Master is behaving like a newborn pulling a cat’s tail over and over again. It soon enough will become a bit of an endearing trait of his, probably. When it’ll stop triggering his desire to maim. He looks up at this weak master who slowly gains a shape. 

—Sir, answered the lamb, let Your Majesty Not put himself into a rage; But rather, let him consider That I am taking a drink of water In the stream More than twenty steps below him; And that, consequently, in no way, Am I troubling his supply.

Blood is on the grass and more will pour. Body filled with adrenaline as it rips more intruders, more targets. Nothing is known of them, and the demon wouldn’t care to learn such things as family, names or any pleadings, any excuses. Death doesn’t come out of anger nor is it personal. He is ordered to execute and execute he does. Soon enough he only knows executing, can only smell blood and starts to drown inside his limiting cage. 

Everything morphs into each other, flesh is wounds is meat is guts is human. Like all the times he reached this state before, he gains the knowledge that better sleeps soundly inside. Wonders if it will finally be the time to toss aside those learned quirks of patience and care, of loyalty and dignity to give in to hunger. He used to quietly slip back inside, soiled with death, towards the master’s bedroom he entered without a sound just to stare at the little figure. The boy doesn’t move, probably won’t hear. He spent too many sleepless nights before, thus sometimes got a little help in his milk before laying down, to avoid complete exhaustion. Works wonders. Humans develop new tricks everyday to avoid children's screams. 

—You do trouble it, answered the cruel beast. And I know you said bad things of me last year. —How could I do that when I wasn’t born, Answered the lamb; I am still at my mother’s breast. —If it wasn’t you, then it was your brother. —I haven’t a brother.—It was then someone close to you;

The child is the weakest of its kind. His prey smells like death and yet it only brings questions. The demon should eat to appease hunger but cannot, because he chose to be Sebastian. Sebastian is a placeholder for a child’s needs but even that part doesn’t reason. After all, even a mother cat eats her sickest kitten. And it seems like deep down even the master knows the wrong kitten was dragged to hell. In the end, Sebastian showed up and ate what was on the plate. Nothing more nothing less. Everything in nature should take this life away. Nothing did. Humans tame themselves for preservation sake. Something valuable to learn about them. Tame yourself and wait. 

For you have no sympathy for me, You, your shepherds and your dogs. I have been told of this. I have to make things even.

Tame yourself and wait. 

As the demon thinks of his hunger, the butler starts to mechanically check a mental list of tomorrow’s imperatives. His stomach tores apart. He wonders if the bread could make a good Pain Perdu for tea time. Blood sticks to his skin. The young master will be wearing his blue coat, because the air starts to get cold. 

He gently puts his tainted red gloves away, rearranges Ciel’s pillow and covers before disappearing like he came. Cleans the mess outside.

Tame yourself and wait. 

Saying this, into the woods The wolf carries the lamb, and then eats him Without any other why or wherefore.

Thankfully he was always more bored than he was hungry.

[cangrellesteponme]

OCTOBER 30TH - IDENTITY

(read this on AO3 here)

dadbastian week day two let's gooo (on time!!)

this one… idk we get some modern au silliness with an alois guest appearance (and claude, i guess??? he's just mentioned and he does not matter at all lmao) in which ciel is sebastian's… adoptive son????? idk either i'm making shit up as i go!! anyway.

in which ciel, a very annoying eight-year-old boy, realises he kind of wants to be a certain someone's very annoying eight-year-old son.

enjoy!

“Ciel, your… guardian is here?” the new lady says, and Ciel thinks she’s weird for the seventh time that day, but he gets his backpack and politely says goodbye anyway.

School is… not very nice. Mey-Rin often tells him that if he has nothing nice to say he shouldn’t say anything at all — but Ciel can tell she’s only trying to be a good adult, because she always says it in her Good And Serious Adult voice — and Bard says that’s bullshit, and Ciel likes the sounds of that a lot more.

So, school is not very nice and very much bullshit. It’s a big word, so Ciel keeps it in his little head and never lets it leave his mouth. Eight might be big — not that big, but he sure isn’t a baby — but Ciel still is not allowed to swear. Not that he thinks Sebastian would ever let him, even if he approves of mischief way too much to be a Good And Serious Adult. Ciel thinks he is a bit evil, even if he’s nice and responsible or whatever-the-word-is.

Maybe that’s why he’s Ciel’s guardian. Even though no one ever calls him that, because saying your legal guardian instead of your adult like a normal person is like saying good morning to a friend when hello is right there. But the new lady — still undeserving of the title of “teacher” — is weird, obviously, and Ciel tells Sebastian all about it as soon as he is at the gates.

“Names don’t matter, little one,” he simply says. “I could be anything, really.”

He says it in that Very Sebastian Tone that means tiny words are being used for big things, and Ciel doesn’t get it. He’s a little annoyed by Sebastian’s sebastianing, so he looks away from him and turns back to the school.

Today, he has to wait a little at the gate. Ciel would say he is very patient — no one agrees with him but it’s fine because he’s right anyway — and the wait is worth it for one reason: he’s going to have a sleepover with Alois, whose father always shows up a minute ahead of being late. The sleepover mostly consists of them sort of being around each other in the garden for a bit, then having dinner, then late conversations in Ciel’s bedroom long past their usual bedtime — gossip, Sebastian says, intel gathering, Ciel corrects — until they eventually fall asleep.

Ciel feels ecstatic. It’s a big word — one he’s very proud of learning.

Of course, he does not show it one bit, because why would he, and he is also very patient in the car.

As soon as they’re home, Alois all but drags Ciel to the garden while Sebastian stays inside with the other boy’s father. Claude is a weird adult. Putting him and Sebastian in the same room is even weirder, really. They always look like they’re about to fight but all they do is play chess and say words Ciel barely understands in a tone he can’t recognise at all.

(Later, he will understand that they are very pettily exchanging passive-aggressive remarks like the bored and evil old creatures they are, trying to one-up each other with more and more sophisticated ways of saying “you’re an ugly, untalented bitch”. Thankfully, eight-year-old Ciel does not know the word “bitch” yet.)

It’s easier to just go to the garden and let the adults be weird in their little corner. Ciel’s company is much more fun, anyway.

Some of the teachers say Alois is rowdy. Ciel disagrees. The other rowdy kids play football and fight in the mud and throw books around, but Alois — though he does some of those things because Luka is rowdy and Alois cares a lot about being a big brother for some reason — mostly just sits on the floor a lot and never talks at the right time. Not that Ciel knows what the right time is, he just knows what it isn’t, because that’s when Alois talks. He’s a very helpful friend, in that way.

He also asks questions at the weirdest possible time.

Ciel is halfway through making a really cool and totally not wonky construction — it was supposed to be a specific thing, he forgot, it’s a construction now — out of dead leaves when his friend lifts his head from the grass long enough to say a few words.

“...what did she mean when she said ‘guardian’?”

“That’s an easy word,” Ciel immediately retorts, but it’s more out of habit than anything — sometimes petty answers crawl all the way up his throat and not letting them out feels like ignoring an itch, and he’s not very good at ignoring itches — and all of the bite behind it is gone long before the end of the sentence, “you should know it.”

“Yes, yes, now be nice and answer me,” Alois says, not even looking up this time, unbothered by Ciel’s usual… cielisms. Ciel considers not answering anyway, but he does.

“It means an adult who is the one who takes care of you.”

“Why would she call Sebastian that, though? That’s obviously your dad!”

Ciel’s construction almost crumbles.

“It would be more like you’re obviously his son, actually…”

It falls.

Ciel knows, obviously, that Alois is wrong. Still, he is quiet all evening, trying and failing not to think about it. Only when his friend falls asleep — he’s hard to wake up, even if he always moves around, and mumbles, and sometimes has nightmares that wake Ciel up first — does he allow himself to pace in his room and actually think.

Sons don’t call their parents by their names. Sons don’t think of their parents as the sort of responsible adult around. Sons don’t…

Ciel wants to be a son.

He doesn’t understand any of it, but it feels like wanting to sit at the window at dusk, or reading one more story, or having a second slice of chocolate cake, or wearing his softest shirt, or, or… Or something. He doesn’t know. He has never wanted to be something before.

He knows, from experience and because he has been told so many times, that he can have anything he wants as long as he asks nicely, and it’s possible, and it’s reasonable. He’s not sure about the last one. Sebastian always says he should just ask. He even agrees to unreasonable things if they’re funny, sometimes.

Ciel wants him to agree for more reasons than “sounds mischievous, I’m in” or “I’ll always approve of you being an evil little schemer” this time.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it any longer, because there is a knock at the door and a long pause before it slowly opens.

“Still up? You really shouldn’t be,” Sebastian fake-scolds, but Ciel feels real-scolded anyway. “Back in your bed you go.”

As he slips back under the covers, letting Sebastian tuck him in, he thinks he should say something now. He might keep it to himself forever if he doesn’t talk now, and the thought is an itch, and he really wants to scratch it, and Sebastian is leaving the room already.

Bravery and fear sit — or, well, jump up and down would be more accurate — side by side in his stomach, but Ciel dares open his mouth when Sebastian’s hand comes to rest on the lightswitch.

“Goodnight, dad.”

There is a second of silence, and Ciel’s entire stomach flips at least three different times.

“Sleep well, my boy,” Sebastian then says right as he turns off the lights, taking it in stride.

Ciel’s dreams that night are warm and shapeless. He does not remember them in the morning, left with only a profound feeling of happiness that could come from anything, really.

[kuroshitakemushrooms]

dadbastian week day 2:

IDENTITY

day 2 of @dadbastianweek2023 and this prompt i was. so scared for. but i think it turned out rlly cute tbh

(if you can't tell, i find the word 'babe' (as in infant) really cute [: )

[purpleandstarlight]

Dadbastianweek 2023 day 2: Identity

Demons, you will understand, are fickle creatures. They are nothing, but they're also anything you can think of. While naturally malicious, they can also be as sweet as honey if that's what you desire. A demon's job is granting people's wishes after all - for a price. The highest price of all - your immortal soul, your place in Heaven. But why would someone give you their best if you won't promise the same to them?

His Young Master knew that, but -while he still demanded too much of him, and used his inhuman skills for his own benefit every day- he never requested any kind of coddling from the demon. Wich was quite peculiar, to say the least. The butler found himself musing about this during an unusually peaceful moment at the Manor. Bardroy had -surprisingly- not set anything on fire yet, and Mei-Rin and Finnian had caused no trouble either. That gave him some anxiety, but he was busy preparing the house for important guests at the moment, so he paid it no mind and hoped that those three useless idiots had finally grown a braincell.

When he first met the little Lord, he was little more than he was a Lord (though he hadn't grown much in size since then). He was a frail child who had seen too much for his human mind to take. He was crouched into himself, in search of some kind of protection, eyes wide and full of tears as he looked around in shock while the demon dangled his dead brother's corpse right in front of him. He had officially lost any caretaker he had, his older sibling (who had always defended and protected him before his death) now an empty shell with no soul, his parents killed and burned to ash a month before that. It would have made sense for the child to wish for some familial affection. However, as soon as their contract had officially been formed, he'd shown no hint of desire for a familiar figure. Mayhaps he was just hiding it like he hid everything else, if the way he clinged to Mr.Tanaka like a man lost at sea would cling to a lifeboat during their first meeting since his tenth birthday was of any proof, but then again, the demon noticed, himself and his Sebastian persona weren't all that different. While he did have to hold his tongue a lot of the time, and his body wasn't his preferred form (though the decision he had to make himself look like the child's own father amused him enough to ignore it), he was still free to tease his master and show some of the more awful sides of him without having to keep up a sickeningly sweet act. While the idea of making someone grow fond of you only to be the one to kill them later on was quite humorous, the Demon found himself liking the way he didn't have to hide his true nature for the entirety of the contract.

Sebastian was everything his Young Master could wish for - A reliable asset against his enemies, a skilled butler who could do anything you needed him to do flawlessly, someone who would take care of his master's needs without ever abandoning him for the rest of his human life. But at the same time, Sebastian was also himself, a centuries old demon who toyed with people and emotionally tortured them just for fun. He didn't need to make up a completely new identity - his Young Master didn't want his future assassin to pretend to care for him.

Maybe that was the point.

The Phantomhive needed someone he could call an enemy right away - without the weird plot twists of "innocent person revealed to be a twisted serial killer" or "suspicious person turned out to be innocent" that human beings often brought to the table. He needed someone he could blame and turn his rage on without feeling guilty about it - and who better than a Demon straight from hell with the intent of eating your soul to do just that?

"How interesting..." mused the butler clad in black, delighted at his new discovery.

That was when a loud boom filled the house, followed by three very familiar shouts.

Figures. Peace was never meant to last long at the Phantomhive manor.

[insertpoetryhere]

Dadbastian Week: Identity

Wow look at that, posting the prompt on the day I'm supposed to. A thing I totally always do.

Anyways this is for @dadbastianweek2023 and let it be known I had a blast writing this and sneaking in things from an AU I will probably never write.

The Mighty Fall

Sebastian had been alive for more than a millenia. 

And no matter how long that seemed in the eyes of a human, it was even longer to the demon who had been forced to endure it.

There was no good way to spend a thousand years. When he had been mortal, the idea of living so long had been a fantasy. But the only reason why it was desirable was because it was supposed to be impossible. A 30 year old merchant could dream of living forever as much as he wanted, that didn’t mean he would ever get the opportunity.

How stupid he would feel now if only he knew.

The marvel of immortality faded the first time Sebastian got hungry. It was a different type of hunger, one that wouldn’t ever grant him the release of death if he couldn’t satisfy it.

And satisfy it he did. It only takes a few decades for whatever imitation of guilt he had once had to make way to pleasure. The hunt was fun, but the shaping of a soul was even more entertaining. Sebastian had convinced kings to behead their queens, mothers to drown their own children, pious men to burn entire cities to the ground in the name of a god that they would never meet.

A soul was sweeter when you were what caused it to fall so far.

As said before, there is no good way to spend a thousand years. But he had possibly found and delighted in every single bad way to do it.

Which is what made his current state so ironic.

Sebastian held up the crystal glass he was polishing up to the light, humming a little tune he had been adding little bits and pieces to while he looked for any spots he missed. The rest of the household was fast asleep, his favorite time of the day since it meant there was no one in his way for the next few hours.

In that time he had managed to reorganize the pantry, beat out the rug in the foyer, and now he had even finished polishing the nice crystal (which mostly just collected dust in a cupboard since the young master felt the set was “too flashy”). He placed the glass back in its proper place, feeling very self satisfied as the dinnerware glittered even in the darkest corners of the cupboard.

That's when he felt the faintest pull in his chest.

He sighed, a glove hand placing itself over where a human heart would be without him telling it to do so. “It’s just a dream.” He said seemingly to no one.

There was another, stronger tug.

“Go back to sleep.” He nearly begged, thinking of the list of chores he still needed to do.

The next one was like a dagger, sharp and impossible to ignore when it passed through him.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Damn it all to hell-” 

He grabbed his candle off of the kitchen counter and made his way upstairs, secretly hoping that the sensation in his chest would ease away as the subject faded back to sleep. That hope faded when he heard the screaming from the hallway, traveling through the thick mahogany door despite the fact that Ciel didn’t need to be loud to get the job done.

“-BASTIAN!” The frenzied screaming hit his ears like a freight train as he opened the door without knocking (there was no point in doing so, since there was no way Ciel would hear him over his own cries). “SEBASTIAN!”

“Yes my lord?” Sebastian nearly had to yell just to be heard. “I’m here!”

He rushed to his young master’s bedside, but didn’t dare move any closer than that as Ciel’s screams died and turned into desperate pants and heaving breaths. The boy’s wild eyes flicked to him, like he wasn’t sure who was talking to him.

“You’re alright, my lord. It was just a dream, you’re s-” Sebastian choked on his words. He brought a hand up to his neck as he realized that what he was about to say technically wasn’t true. Ciel wasn’t “safe” by any means.

Especially not with him.

“... You are unharmed.” He amended, his voice softer now that he didn’t need to fight to be heard.

Ciel’s eyes focused a little more, though he was still clearly dazed from whatever horror he had been forced to relive. Sebastian waited patiently for an order, whether it be to stay there until he fell back asleep or to go away and never speak of this again.

But Ciel did neither. Rather, in one quick motion that would have been almost too fast for a normal human to process, Ciel launched himself at Sebastian. His arms wrapped around Sebastian’s neck, pulling him down to his level and forcing him to drop to one knee to avoid losing his balance. The candle that was in his hand fell to the ground, the force of impact smothering the flame and leaving them in total darkness.

Sebastian tensed, at first presuming the action to be an attack. He made an attempt to gently remove Ciel, but paused when the movement only made Ciel cling to his shoulders harder.

“NO!” He screamed too close to Sebastian’s ear, his voice weak with sobs as he pressed his face into Sebastian’s jacket.

… Ah. Sebastian thought to himself, a strange uncertainty creeping up his spine. Not an attack..

Sebastian cleared his throat, moving his arms and hesitantly allowing them to wrap around the boy’s torso. Ciel took the shift in position as an open invitation to bury himself even deeper into Sebastian’s embrace, hiding his face fully in the safety of Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian allowed him to stay like that for a few minutes before attempting to pull back once more. The movement was met with much less resistance this time, with Ciel only whining pitifully as he felt Sebastian start to pull away. Still, it was enough to convince Sebastian to stay put.

It was hardly appropriate for a butler to cradle his master like a toddler. Of course Sebastian knew that. But Ciel seemed to need it and no one else was around to witness their lapse in manners, so really what was the harm?

Carefully, he lifted both himself and his young master up onto the bed in hopes that a more comfortable position might help the child soothe himself back to sleep. Ciel sniffled as he settled himself against Sebastain’s chest, a blanket now thrown over his shoulders. His grip around Sebastain’s neck relaxed, making it easier for Sebastian to turn them in a way that would make it easier to settle Ciel back against his pillow once sweeter dreams finally took him.

“There, there.” He whispered, Ciel’s dark hair soft against his chin as he rested it on the top of the boy’s head. A feeling almost like nausea washed over him as he rocked the crying boy back and forth as if he were a baby. “You mustn't work yourself up like this.”

The two stayed like that for another fifteen minutes, with Sebastain shushing Ciel until he could feel his breaths even out and his heart rate slow down. Sebastian stopped rocking, but still didn’t move until he could hear Ciel’s soft snores, barely audible as they were muffled against the thick material of his jacket. Carefully, he peeled the sleeping boy off of him and laid him back down against his favorite pillow. He took the thick comforter and pulled it all the way up to Ciel’s chin, tucking him in firm enough to stave off the cold autumn air that sometimes snuck its way through to cracks in the window frame. 

Sebastian once leveled cities and erased entire bloodlines from the face of the earth. 

Now he comforts little boys when they’ve had nightmares and rocks them back to sleep once he’s done.

He leaned down, picking up the candle he had dropped when Ciel hugged him. He stared at it, still making out every detail despite the darkness surrounding him. He grimaced in disgust.

Oh, how the mighty fall.

[blackbutler-sideblog]

Dadbastian Week Day 2: Identity

Hey y'all!

So I missed day one but I really wanted to participate! I'm not sure if I'll be able to write for any of the other days but I'll try my best! It's currently 12:49 AM over here so I'm considering it Day 2 lol!

I hope you all enjoy it and remember that constructive criticism is always welcomed! This is also being posted on my ao3 so don't be alarmed if you see it on there as well lol

—————————————————————————

He couldn't see anything.

All that stood before him was an endless black void filled with nothing but deafening silence. Was he blindfolded? He didn't feel blindfolded. There was no tight pressure around his face that usually came with a piece of fabric being tightly forced around his head. But then why couldn't he see?

He reached forward, feeling his hands shake as he tried to navigate his way through the darkness. However, no matter how long he walked, no matter how far he extended his reach, his hands continued to grasp at nothing. How big is this place? Why is it so dark? How did he get here?

His thoughts raced as he stumbled through the unforgiving void, disoriented and increasingly terrified. The questions weighed heavily on him, their answers remaining elusive. Was he the only one here?

"Hello?" He tried to call out, but all that he could manage was a muffled, incoherent sound as if he had a mouth filled with rags. He opened his mouth again, and again, the same pathetic noise emerged. Was he gagged as well?

Panic surged within him as he reached up to pull the offending object from his mouth. He needed to call for help!

But, to the boy's horror, there was nothing there.

There was no blindfold. There was no gag.

No. Instead, his fingers clawed against a completely smooth, featureless surface. His eyes, his mouth, his nose, his eyebrows, his...everything! They were all gone!

All of a sudden, he realized he couldn't breathe. He fell forward, desperately trying to open his mouth to inhale, but he couldn't. There was nothing there for him to open. He dug his nails into his skin; clawing and clawing, but nothing worked. His muffled sobs turned into full-blown screams as he felt his flesh tear away into new, equally blank pieces of flesh.

"It hurts! Oh god, it hurts!"

" —Young master!"

He gasped, a rush of air finally filling his tired lungs.

A familiar voice pulled him from the void like a rope thrown to a drowning victim at the last possible second. Ciel blinked, the candle-lit room slowly coming into view. The sharp contrast between the black abyss he was in only moments ago and his parents' bedroom was jarring, to say the least, and the memories of his ordeal remained vivid.

A cloth was suddenly pressed to his skin, causing Ciel to flinch away.

"Please, my lord. You are bleeding," the voice said with evident concern.

'Don't touch me!' He wanted to scream, but any power in his voice was used up by his desperate cries for help while he was trapped.

"Twas only a nightmare, young master. Everything is fine."

Ciel rolled his eye over to the left side of his bed where the voice was coming from, the lack of movement from his right eye was not unnoticed. He jumped.

Next to him stood a strange man dressed in all black, holding a bloodied handkerchief to the side of his mouth. He gasped at the sight of him, pushing the gloved appendage away as fast as he could possibly manage.

The man was wearing Ciel's face!

That was his face! He took his face! That was his nose! His hairline! His...His...No, wait.

A shaky hand reached up, his fingers once again touching all over. He could feel his nose, his eyes, his mouth...No. No. Ciel had his face back.

"Ah! Don't touch it." the man said quietly but urgently, bending back over to place the cloth on his cuts.

Ciel looked closer, his singular good eye squinting through the dim lighting. No...it wasn't his face that this stranger stole, but a familiar face nonetheless. He recognized those sharp, concerned eyes and furrowed brow. He's seen those thin, downward-turned lips and tight, clenched jaw.

A sudden memory flashed through his mind. He was little. Well, little-er. He had been running, trying his best to keep up with...someone. He couldn't remember who. Out of nowhere, it seemed, he had tripped over his laces and came crashing down, his face scraping across the ground.

He remembers wailing as he clenched his bloody cheek. It wasn't that painful looking back on it, but it was scary; at least for a nine-year-old. It was the first time he was in pain not due to a sickness.

"Oh, now what are you crying for, hmm?" a deep, gentle voice came, cutting off the boy's cries.

"I-I fell down..." he sniffled.

"I see." He bent down to take the boy's face into his hands, turning it this way and that, checking for bruises and scrapes. The boy looked up, but for some reason, he couldn't remember what he saw. He couldn't see the voice's face.

After a moment, the hands disappeared from his skin, being replaced by a soft handkerchief.

"You'll be fine," the voice declared. "We all fall down sometimes. What's important is that you get back up."

The boy didn't respond, only sniffling as he looked back up. Sharp eyes with furrowed brows came into view. But this man was smiling.

With a determined nod, the boy gently pushed the handkerchief away before slowly rising, his knees still wobbly from his sudden fall. Vincent returned the nod, an air of amusement swimming through his eyes. The boy stepped forward, ready to continue his chase after his brother, only to fall forward once more. His cursed shoelaces had struck again, leaving the boy with a face full of dirt and his pride decimated.

"Hahaha!" Vincent couldn't help but laugh, already bending forward to help his youngest off the ground. "Maybe I should teach you to tie your laces first!"

—

"You took his face," Ciel's voice suddenly came to him. It was trembling and hoarse, but it was his voice.

Sebastian's hand stopped prodding his cuts, a single eyebrow arching up in a rare moment of confusion for the butler. "What do you mean, my lord? I have always had this face. At least since I have met you, that is."

Ciel didn't answer.

The room became quiet once again as Sebastian pulled out some sort of cream, smearing it across all of Ciel's self-inflicted wounds. It stung and smelled weird, but the boy didn't complain. He didn't have the energy to.

"Did anyone come tonight?" He broke the silence.

"No. It was another quiet night, my lord."

"Good."

The conversation died there. Sebastian gently placed bandages, at least five, onto Ciel's features before placing the rest back into his coat pocket. He moved back and stood tall in one fluid motion that couldn't be described as anything other than uncanny and so uniquely Sebastian.

"Are you alright now, my lord? Do you require anything else?"

"...No." Ciel flopped back down onto his mattress, exhausted and wide awake at the same time. He turned over, away from the demon that stood only meters away from him, trying to will himself to relax.

There was a pause, then the rustling of the duvet that had long been thrown to the floor. Ciel remained as still as the dead as Sebastian delicately covered him once again in the cool and soft fabric. Wordlessly, his butler tucked him in with an uncommon amount of tenderness that gave the Earl goosebumps.

"If you need anything else, simply call my name," Sebastian reminded him, his voice so calm and still. And with that, he grabbed the candelabra and quietly made his way to the door, allowing his footsteps to actually sound for once as he retreated from Ciel's sleep quarters.

"Sebastian," Ciel called, his own voice startling him.

"Yes, young master?"

Ciel took a second, digging himself further under the covers. "Stay. Until I fall asleep."

"Yes, my lord."

Ciel didn't have to look to know that Sebastian was bowing, a hand placed over where his heart should be. Sebastian blew out the candles, the room now becoming dark, but not pitch black. The moonlight creeping through the window gave more than enough light for him to make out where he was. It was quiet, but he could make out the sound of mild rain tapping on his window and leaves gracefully blowing in the wind. His hand crept up again, tracing across his features...just double-checking.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, young master?"

"Tomorrow...Tomorrow, will you teach me to tie my shoes?"

A pregnant pause filled the room, Ciel regretting the words that just fell from his mouth. Why had he said that? What was wrong with him? He should have—

"Of course, young master. Right after breakfast."

Ciel let out a breath that he had not known he was holding. The hand retreated back under the duvet, his eyes finally able to close again; his bed undergoing an abrupt transformation, becoming irresistibly comfortable once again. Something washed over the boy, something he had not felt in a long, long time. He couldn't describe it, but it was...good.

"You took his place." He mumbled, drifting off into a welcomed dreamless sleep.

[dadbastianweek2023]

The Second Day! Seeing all of your submissions has been just so lovely! The tag is #dadbastianweek2023 and #dadbastianidentity !

✿OCTOBER 30TH - IDENTITY✿

Who are you to me?