Jeux du Coeur
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+. to F › Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,634
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Category:
+. to F › Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,634
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Kuroshitsuji is the property of Square Enix and Toboso Yana. I do not own Kuroshitsuji or these characters, nor do I make any money writing this.
2
Jeux du Coeur
Chapter 2: Canvassing
In which Undertaker imposes himself in the lives of his targets.
+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+
I see him standing on the street corner down from my shop looking miserable and dowdy in his ebony haired form. London rains assault him and his coat obviously does not keep away the cold or wetness. I merrily and stealthily approach him from behind, umbrella held out to gallantly defend him from the vicious rain.
“Whatever is the matter, Grell?”
He looks at me with fearful eyes, his surprise obvious. But the shy mousy façade instantly melts away once he recognizes me.
“You mean other than being soaked to the bone?” he quips with a sneer and a shiver.
“Of course!” I answer with a smile. “I saw you standing here in the rain looking rather wretched, so I came to be gentlemanly.”
“Well, thank you.” he responds looking askance. We stand in silence for a few moments, when I finally decide to break the hush.
“You seem to be rather undecided about what it is you’re doing here. You act as if it’s nothing, but I have a feeling that it has something to do with your mistre-”
“Don’t assume things you know nothing about,” he sniffs disdainfully, eyes barely hiding his anger. Apparently I have touched a nerve. I win.
“I would never assume,” I smirk. “I do know you, Grell Sutcliffe. Quite well, in fact. I know that you know I was the one to receive and prepare the former Baroness Burnette’s body after her demise. I know that you know that her possessions are still in my care. You’re here because you want the lovely boots she wore the night you killed her.”
“Lovely boots…” Grell murmured with a longing expression. “I mean- No! That’s not why I’m here! And it wasn‘t me!” he hastily added, catching his near slip-up.
“Yes it is, and yes it was," I answer, knowing full well that I am correct. I press in closer, backing him into the wall behind us, giving him my best intimidating glare. The fight seems to leave him once I start to speak.
“But you can’t act on your desire because you’re torn,” I croon darkly. “As much as you deny it, your mistress was the rare faux paramour you actually cared for. It wasn’t out of disgust that you ended her. It was pity. You can’t deny that you couldn’t stand to have seen her fallen so far into despair…”
He gives me a surprised and wounded look, as if I am telling him things I should not know. Poor naive boy.
“You are ambivalent because you want to deny any feeling you had for her…,” I continue. “…and yet you wish not to betray her memory.”
His eyes widen with obvious pain and shock. “H-how did- could you-? No one-”
I step closer.
“I know everything about you,” I say reassuringly, attempting to show a semblance of understanding. His pained expression doesn’t go away, and I watch as he bites his lower lip to stop it from trembling.
“Angelina…” he whispers sadly as a single tear escapes. Hmm. Maybe I pushed a little too far…This will not do. I must break him out of his melancholy. I lean in close and brush a stray lock of hair over his ear.
“I also know your flesh hasn’t known the warmth of another’s in some time,” I purr with an exaggerated leer. “Perhaps I could provide you with some comfort?”
I hear his breath catch in his throat as he snaps, expectedly taking the opportunity to ignore his own pain and latch onto something else.
“I beg your pardon,” he huffs indignantly as he skirts around me, the trance of depression broken for the time being in order to defend his dignity. “That is none of your concern and, no, you don’t know me! Good day!”
He leaves the sanctuary of the umbrella and angrily tromps off down the street.
“But the boots…” I call after him.
“I have nothing more to say to the likes of you!” he grits out as he clutches his arms about himself and shivers in the rain.
“I’d be glad to warm you up!” I call after him merrily.
“I said good day!” he snarls back with a glare.
But, there were no more tears. And he knows now that I am watching him. I'd say I've done a fine job.
+_+_+_+_+_+_
“You come to seek my counsel, and yet you refuse to take my advice seriously,” I tsk, straightening various jars and canisters on my work table. “For being dedicated to such a people oriented job, you seem to be lacking in basic social skills.”
“I don’t mean to offend, sir. I am of the opinion that ‘Get tupped’ is not appropriate advice.”
“Appropriate or not, it’s what you need, William,” I smirk knowingly. He had come into my shop looking for advice on how to improve his performance as a reaper. He wanted tips and strategies for the most efficient methods of harvesting souls. I, of course, refuse to share such boring guidance, and instead opted to give him advice of a more personal nature. I see a slight blush on his cheeks as he refuses to look at me directly. I mince towards him ominously and tap his cheek.
“Would it be inappropriate for me to offer my own services in this area?”
He sputters and blushes beautifully, as if my offer is wholly inconceivable. I quickly and happily invade his personal space. He freezes as he feels my breath upon his ear.
“I am no longer your superior, but I am of the opinion that dominating you would be good fun,” I growl, gliding my fingers over his cheek to lightly dig my nails into the flesh of his jaw. As I can feel him tense up as he avoids my gaze, I know he is on the verge of running. Not if I can help it. The time is ripe to fluster him further, in a more positive direction. “Or is there someone else?”
As soon as the words process in his mind he visibly rips himself from his daze and turns to face me aggressively. They are so alike, the silly fools.
“Of course there isn’t!” he snaps. “I have no time for such things!”
“It would do you some good,” I chide as I step away with a shrug.
I watch as he composes himself once more, pointedly ignoring my suggestion. "Thank you for your time," he crisply says before attempting to excuse himself.
"Maybe I shall find someone for you?" I offer politely. "Perhaps you like gingers?" He flinches, but quickly gains his composure again.
"Thank you, but no," He shakes his head. "I am in need of a more professional sort of guidance."
"I'm sure there are plenty of souls to be harvested in Soho," I grin. "You could seek professional help there."
I see his eyebrow twitch. I only continue to smile genially.
William gives me an exasperated sigh, says good day once more and walks out the door.
Well, that went splendidly. Poor William. He doesn't stand a chance against me.
+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+
Fact about this chapter:
I see Undertaker as his retired self, but he is still on retainer with the bureau (because immortal retirement is BORING). So, it’s likely that many aspiring badass reapers seek his advice once they find him. Also, Soho was a superbly raunchy “entertainment” district at the time of the series, not quite like it is today.
“To tup“ = to fuck. Indeed,
Chapter 2: Canvassing
In which Undertaker imposes himself in the lives of his targets.
+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+
I see him standing on the street corner down from my shop looking miserable and dowdy in his ebony haired form. London rains assault him and his coat obviously does not keep away the cold or wetness. I merrily and stealthily approach him from behind, umbrella held out to gallantly defend him from the vicious rain.
“Whatever is the matter, Grell?”
He looks at me with fearful eyes, his surprise obvious. But the shy mousy façade instantly melts away once he recognizes me.
“You mean other than being soaked to the bone?” he quips with a sneer and a shiver.
“Of course!” I answer with a smile. “I saw you standing here in the rain looking rather wretched, so I came to be gentlemanly.”
“Well, thank you.” he responds looking askance. We stand in silence for a few moments, when I finally decide to break the hush.
“You seem to be rather undecided about what it is you’re doing here. You act as if it’s nothing, but I have a feeling that it has something to do with your mistre-”
“Don’t assume things you know nothing about,” he sniffs disdainfully, eyes barely hiding his anger. Apparently I have touched a nerve. I win.
“I would never assume,” I smirk. “I do know you, Grell Sutcliffe. Quite well, in fact. I know that you know I was the one to receive and prepare the former Baroness Burnette’s body after her demise. I know that you know that her possessions are still in my care. You’re here because you want the lovely boots she wore the night you killed her.”
“Lovely boots…” Grell murmured with a longing expression. “I mean- No! That’s not why I’m here! And it wasn‘t me!” he hastily added, catching his near slip-up.
“Yes it is, and yes it was," I answer, knowing full well that I am correct. I press in closer, backing him into the wall behind us, giving him my best intimidating glare. The fight seems to leave him once I start to speak.
“But you can’t act on your desire because you’re torn,” I croon darkly. “As much as you deny it, your mistress was the rare faux paramour you actually cared for. It wasn’t out of disgust that you ended her. It was pity. You can’t deny that you couldn’t stand to have seen her fallen so far into despair…”
He gives me a surprised and wounded look, as if I am telling him things I should not know. Poor naive boy.
“You are ambivalent because you want to deny any feeling you had for her…,” I continue. “…and yet you wish not to betray her memory.”
His eyes widen with obvious pain and shock. “H-how did- could you-? No one-”
I step closer.
“I know everything about you,” I say reassuringly, attempting to show a semblance of understanding. His pained expression doesn’t go away, and I watch as he bites his lower lip to stop it from trembling.
“Angelina…” he whispers sadly as a single tear escapes. Hmm. Maybe I pushed a little too far…This will not do. I must break him out of his melancholy. I lean in close and brush a stray lock of hair over his ear.
“I also know your flesh hasn’t known the warmth of another’s in some time,” I purr with an exaggerated leer. “Perhaps I could provide you with some comfort?”
I hear his breath catch in his throat as he snaps, expectedly taking the opportunity to ignore his own pain and latch onto something else.
“I beg your pardon,” he huffs indignantly as he skirts around me, the trance of depression broken for the time being in order to defend his dignity. “That is none of your concern and, no, you don’t know me! Good day!”
He leaves the sanctuary of the umbrella and angrily tromps off down the street.
“But the boots…” I call after him.
“I have nothing more to say to the likes of you!” he grits out as he clutches his arms about himself and shivers in the rain.
“I’d be glad to warm you up!” I call after him merrily.
“I said good day!” he snarls back with a glare.
But, there were no more tears. And he knows now that I am watching him. I'd say I've done a fine job.
+_+_+_+_+_+_
“You come to seek my counsel, and yet you refuse to take my advice seriously,” I tsk, straightening various jars and canisters on my work table. “For being dedicated to such a people oriented job, you seem to be lacking in basic social skills.”
“I don’t mean to offend, sir. I am of the opinion that ‘Get tupped’ is not appropriate advice.”
“Appropriate or not, it’s what you need, William,” I smirk knowingly. He had come into my shop looking for advice on how to improve his performance as a reaper. He wanted tips and strategies for the most efficient methods of harvesting souls. I, of course, refuse to share such boring guidance, and instead opted to give him advice of a more personal nature. I see a slight blush on his cheeks as he refuses to look at me directly. I mince towards him ominously and tap his cheek.
“Would it be inappropriate for me to offer my own services in this area?”
He sputters and blushes beautifully, as if my offer is wholly inconceivable. I quickly and happily invade his personal space. He freezes as he feels my breath upon his ear.
“I am no longer your superior, but I am of the opinion that dominating you would be good fun,” I growl, gliding my fingers over his cheek to lightly dig my nails into the flesh of his jaw. As I can feel him tense up as he avoids my gaze, I know he is on the verge of running. Not if I can help it. The time is ripe to fluster him further, in a more positive direction. “Or is there someone else?”
As soon as the words process in his mind he visibly rips himself from his daze and turns to face me aggressively. They are so alike, the silly fools.
“Of course there isn’t!” he snaps. “I have no time for such things!”
“It would do you some good,” I chide as I step away with a shrug.
I watch as he composes himself once more, pointedly ignoring my suggestion. "Thank you for your time," he crisply says before attempting to excuse himself.
"Maybe I shall find someone for you?" I offer politely. "Perhaps you like gingers?" He flinches, but quickly gains his composure again.
"Thank you, but no," He shakes his head. "I am in need of a more professional sort of guidance."
"I'm sure there are plenty of souls to be harvested in Soho," I grin. "You could seek professional help there."
I see his eyebrow twitch. I only continue to smile genially.
William gives me an exasperated sigh, says good day once more and walks out the door.
Well, that went splendidly. Poor William. He doesn't stand a chance against me.
+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+
Fact about this chapter:
I see Undertaker as his retired self, but he is still on retainer with the bureau (because immortal retirement is BORING). So, it’s likely that many aspiring badass reapers seek his advice once they find him. Also, Soho was a superbly raunchy “entertainment” district at the time of the series, not quite like it is today.
“To tup“ = to fuck. Indeed,