I still will probably write this but I want to know if there is a demand at all for black butler content. Please like and reply if you’re up for a new fic!!!! here is a sample of what I was thinking
݁ᛪ༙The clock ticked steadily in the dim sitting room. Moonlight spilled through the large windows, catching the sharp gleam of Y/n’s eyes as she stood by the fireplace, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Sebastian entered soundlessly, like a shadow come to life. He bowed with his usual mockery of politeness.
“You wished to speak with me, Lady Y/n?”
Y/n said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch and coil between them.
She studied him the impeccable suit, the flawless manners, the thin smile that never reached his eyes. Everything about him felt wrong.
Finally, she spoke, voice low and edged with steel.
“I know what you are,” she said. “Maybe not the name for it, but I know you are not human.”
Sebastian’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.
“How very observant,” he mused, clasping his hands neatly behind his back. “And what, may I ask, do you intend to do with this knowledge?”
Y/n stepped closer, her boots whispering against the rug. She tilted her head slightly, the fire casting half her face in shadow.
“Nothing,” she said. “Because Ciel trusts you. For now.”
“But know this, Sebastian Michaelis: if you harm him if you let him slip further into whatever darkness is trying to swallow him I will tear you apart myself. Piece by piece.”
Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and amused, like a cat toying with a mouse.
“You are quite ferocious for someone so…fragile.”
Y/n didn’t flinch. She stepped even closer, close enough to smell the unnatural, cold clean scent of him.
“You think I’m fragile?” she whispered. “Try me. You’ll find out exactly how far a sister will go for her brother.”
For the first time, something flickered in Sebastian’s gaze interest, perhaps. Amusement tinged with a thread of caution.
“Noted,” he said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. “I shall continue to serve the Young Master with the utmost…care.”
Y/n stared him down a moment longer before turning away, her heart pounding.
“See that you do,” she said coldly. “Because if you don’t hell won’t be the only place you’ll answer to.”
As she left the room, Sebastian stood still, a gloved hand resting lightly on his chest where, for a brief, strange moment, he thought he might have felt something almost human: respect.
݁ᛪ༙݁ᛪ༙݁ᛪ༙ The hem of your dress swirled around your ankles as you hurried through the entrance hall, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and new paint.
The rebuilt Phantomhive Manor loomed above you, so pristine it almost mocked the memory of ashes and ruin still seared into your heart.
You clutched the sides of your gown an elegant deep navy silk dress with delicate lace sleeves, a gift from Aunt Angelina. But you hardly noticed its weight now.
All you could hear was the hammering of your heart.
Your little brother your baby was alive.
You had been staying with Aunt Angelina ever since the fire, trapped in a haze of grief and guilt, believing there was nothing left. When the letter arrived, hastily penned with shaking hands by your aunt herself, you thought it a cruel dream. But now standing here the heavy doors of the manor open, the world spinning in your ears he was truly here.
A butler you didn’t recognize bowed you inside. His voice was smooth.
“Welcome home, Lady Y/n. The Young Master is awaiting you in the drawing room.”
You barely heard him. Your body moved of its own accord, feet flying across the marble, ignoring decorum, ignoring appearances. You needed to see him.The door to the drawing room creaked as you pushed it open.
And there he was. Ciel stood by the window, framed in silver light. He was wearing a black velvet suit, a rich blue eye staring outward only one eye. The other hidden behind a black eyepatch.
His posture was perfect, his chin tilted up in practiced nobility.
But he was still so small.
Your throat closed. A sob broke free before you could contain it. He turned at the sound and his eye widened, just barely.
“Y/n,” he said, voice smooth and measured, as if tasting the word for the first time in years.
Your vision blurred with tears.
Before you knew it, your knees buckled beneath you. You fell. Not out of weakness out of relief. You crashed to the carpeted floor, arms flinging around him, dragging his tiny, stiff body against yours. You pressed your forehead to his stomach, clutching him as if he might vanish again if you let go.
“My Ciel,” you gasped out, voice cracking. “My sweet boy, my precious ”
For a long, breathless moment, he said nothing. You felt the way he tensed, the way he hesitated awkward, uncertain, like a child who no longer knew how to receive love. Then slowly one small, gloved hand touched your head. Not like he used to not with the easy affection of the boy you remembered.
It was a stiff, careful gesture.
“…You’re wrinkling your dress,” he muttered, trying for irritation but failing miserably. His voice shook ever so slightly.
You let out a watery laugh, pulling back just enough to look up at him. He was trying so hard to be composed. To be grown. But you could see it the glimmer of your little brother beneath the armor. The scared, exhausted boy who had come home. You reached up, cupping his cheek gently with your gloved hand.
“You’re home,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re home, and I will never, ever leave you again.”
His eye softened so quick, you might have missed it if you hadn’t known him so well.
“You’re being dramatic,” he said, brushing a hand down his jacket, pretending indifference.
You smiled through your tears, standing finally and straightening your dress. You took a deep, trembling breath, smoothing his hair back with motherly care.
“You’ll have to get used to it,” you said, voice steadying. “Because I plan to be dramatic for the rest of your life, Ciel Phantomhive.”
The corners of his mouth twitched just slightly. A ghost of a smile. And you felt it you knew that somewhere deep inside, he was still your brother. you would love him with every fiber of your soul, no matter how cold he tried to be.
You linked your arm through his before he could protest, guiding him further into the room like you used to when he was a shy toddler hiding behind your skirts.
“Now,” you said brightly, “you’re going to sit with me and tell me everything.”
He sighed, a sound of long suffering patience far too old for his little body.
“…I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he said.
You smiled, squeezing his arm gently.
“Not when it comes to me, dear heart. Never.”
You hadn’t felt this complete in so long.
But then a presence. You felt it like a prickle at the back of your neck, a gentle tug in the air, a ripple where everything should have been still. Your eyes drifted, pulled by instinct toward the doorway.
There he stood. The butler. Tall, impossibly composed, crimson eyes gleaming like molten garnets in the low light. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, posture perfect, expression unreadable.
The sight of him sent a strange chill along your spine not fear exactly, but something close to wrongness.
And something else, too something painfully familiar. For just a moment, your heart squeezed. He looks like Father.
Not exactly your father’s features had been warmer, his smiles real. there was something in the way this man carried himself, the precise way he tilted his head, the quiet strength wrapped in civility.
You tore your gaze away and turned to Ciel, lowering your voice.
“Who is that?” you asked, smoothing your skirts with trembling hands to hide your nerves.
Ciel followed your gaze casually, as if he hadn’t noticed the butler lingering nearby until now.
“Sebastian Michaelis,” Ciel said. His tone was clipped but neutral. “My butler. He’s been serving me since… I returned.”
You nodded slowly, lips pressing together.
You wanted to ask more but Ciel’s body language warned you off.
The stiff shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eye. He trusted this man. you had just gotten your brother back. You would not push. Not yet. You turned back toward the butler, offering a polite, practiced smile that didn’t reach your eyes.
“Thank you,” you said softly, inclining your head just slightly, as a lady should. “For taking care of my brother.”
Sebastian’s crimson gaze flickered briefly curiosity, perhaps but his bow was perfect.
“It is my duty and my pleasure, Lady Y/n,” he said smoothly.
