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Description

Pairing(s): Ciel Phantomhive & Reader
Length: 1,753
Additional Info: Angel Reader, Female Reader

Description:

What if the Demon was late?

*

The first tug came at night, midnight to be precise, when you were watching over a child who'd lost her way. You had been so focused on this lost child, watching intently as her smile became less fake and more genuine, her once-dull eyes sparkling with sincere happiness, that you hadn't even realised there was a tug.
When you finally did realise, it was so faint, almost hesitant, that you almost just passed it off as nothing. It couldn't be anything. After all, all those who call to an Angel are desperate; there would never be a single ounce of hesitance.
So you shook your head and ignored it- or tried to. Despite what you had been taught, you shrugged it off as nothing and tried to ignore it, so very sure of yourself, and slowly but surely it worked.
Until it just didn't.
The sky had been clear of clouds that day, allowing the bright sun rays to beam down upon the happy passerby, a gentle wind ruffling their hair and outfits. It had been peaceful, happy- and yet you were not.
The tug was there, still hesitant, still faint, but there was this feeling now. This odd, strange feeling of...something. You weren't sure what it was - dread? fear? sorrow? - but it was strong, so very strong that when it hit you, you had to stop, clench your eyes shut and take a few deep breaths, head pounding and feet stumbling whenever you moved.
But then it disappeared. The feeling was there one second and gone the next, leaving you to go back to normal- but you didn't. You couldn't. Despite the hesitance, despite the faint tug, that feeling - odd, desperate - had been too much, too strong to just ignore, but you couldn't go. Even if you wanted to help - which you found you did -, you didn't even know who was calling. There was no certain direction, just a faint tug and an odd feeling.
You didn't want to give up (Angels don't give up on Humans, no matter what), but-.
Before you could continue that train of thought, however, that feeling came back, along with that tug but- but it was different. The feeling was stronger, the tug no longer hesitant. This person, they wanted your help, now! Needed it, in fact, but how?
Again, you did not know where to go. You suddenly felt helpless, and you dreaded the thought that not all of this helplessness was from yourself.
Gripping the tree you had been walking by that day, you clenched your eyes shut, took a couple of deep breaths, and tried to block your surroundings out. It took a little longer than normal - though you were sure that was due to your overwhelming emotions - but finally, you managed to do it, and soon your mind was searching.
You could picture yourself moving from place to place, different buildings quickly moulding into one, people walking by turning into just blurring movement- and then you stopped.
There, in front of you, was a church. An ordinary church, that you would've probably thought nothing of under different circumstances. Maybe you would have gone inside, but you certainly would not have thought anything so tragically desperate would be inside.
You could feel the slight simmer of anger bubble in your stomach, but you quickly quenched it.
No, don't get angry. Be calm and help whoever needs your help. You scolded yourself. Opening your eyes, you took off running, hitching up your skirt so you wouldn't trip and fall. You didn't have any time to waste, you needed to get there quickly.
As you ran you could feel the glances and hear the snickers but you ignored them. None of these people was as important to you as this desperate being was suddenly.
People shrieked and shouted at you as you bumped into them, hastily apologising but they didn't matter, because suddenly the church was in front of you. You never knew a church could be as imposing as it was now, and you had been in plenty of them, always reminding yourself to say hello to Father.
A church should not be terrifying, you thought, angry at anybody who made it so.
Suddenly you felt the tug become stronger like somebody had hold of your hand in a tight grip and was dragging you in. You shook your head, soothing the anger away, and ran straight up to the doors, making sure not to trip over your skirt or feet. You practically threw yourself at the door.
You were making enough noise to get anybody's attention but you didn't care. Instead, you continued to throw yourself at the door, again and again, until finally, the doors opened and in you stumbled, straight to the floor.
You huffed at the strand of hair that fell into your eyes and scrambled your way upwards. You took one step- but stopped, because there, right there, in front of you were people. People dressed in dark robes. They looked as imposing and terrifying as ever, and if those robes weren't enough, the fact that they stood in front of a table, on which a young boy laid, eyes wide and searching desperately around him for someone to help.
Eh...what? This- this...? What? Why are they-? These are children of God, they- they wouldn't-... Would they? Why though? No, they can't but it's right there, the proof that they are.
A light glint blinded you for a second, and you looked up, just in time to see one of the robed people lift up a dagger, right above the boy's heart. You can't remember much of what happened next; just the sound of the boy's scream, mixed with the terrified shouts of the robed people and a loud clatter to the floor where the dagger now laid, and then- nothing.
You blinked a few times - once, twice, thrice - and looked around, wincing when you saw the bodies on the floor.
Are they-? Have I just-?
One of the people groaned and your head snapped in their direction, but their eyes were still closed, chest still lifting (though barely). They weren't dead, just gravely injured.... You weren't sure whether to be happy about that or not.
A light whimper brought your attention back to the boy in front of you and you turned, taking in the boy. He was skinny, too skinny, as evident by his hollow cheeks, and he wore nothing but a white button-up that stopped half-way to his thighs. His eyes, dark blue and wide, were showing fear, pure fear as they took you in, and you realised he was terrified of you.
As much as this hurt you, you understood. If you had been placed in his shoes, you would be too, fearful of any living thing. You didn't want to scare him though, so you took a deep breath and calmly smiled, keeping a good enough distance between the two of you.
"Hello, mister." You calmly said. He winced which caused you to wince as well. He seemed to want to shrink into himself, but he didn't. For some strange reason, he didn't. Instead, he tried to appear strong, undefeated, which may have worked had it not been for how tired and scared his eyes looked.
No amount of hiding could prevent you - who had seen eyes as hallow as his before - from seeing how broken this boy was.
And if there's anything I do best, it's helping people, you thought and decided right then and there, that you would be the one to help him. He called to you, though unknowingly (as most often do). This young, broken boy wanted somebody, anybody to help him, and that you can and will do.
"Let's get you out of these chains, shall we?" You carefully spoke, your voice gentle and soft, and waited for him to let you. You did not want to rush things.
He took a while, seemingly debating whether or not to let you near, but eventually he sighed and laid his head down, nodding ever-so-softly. You carefully walked over, swiftly taking the chains off of his ankles and wrists. You watched for any sudden movements from the boy, but he seemed too tired to even keep his eyes open, let alone fight you.
"Are you going to kill me?" The boy suddenly spoke and you froze, halfway between walking closer to him. You were going to ask if you could pick him up, so you could take him home and care for him there when he had spoken. His voice was as broken as his eyes were, hoarse and quiet at the same time. You dreaded to think about what had caused such hoarseness.
"Of course, not." You answered. The offence you felt altered how hard your tone was just a little and your eyes narrowed a little at such a thought. You were not those horrible, nasty people currently laying on the ground. You were here to protect him, not hurt him, and you said as much.
He did not seem to believe you but he also did not seem to care, and when you asked to pick him up, you got the slightest reaction from his body freezing up before it relaxed and he nodded silently.
Carefully, mindful of the cuts and bruises (which became more obvious the closer you looked), you placed one arm around his back and the other under his legs and carefully lifted him up, cradling him close to your chest.
As you turned, you carefully stepped over the men below, making sure not to trip and drop the boy. The young boy yawned as he curled into your embrace, though he tried to hide it, and you smiled gently at him, eyes shining with all the love and care a mother's eyes would.
"Get some sleep, my dear boy. I'll wake you when we get home." You said gently, and he did not waste a second to listen, eyes slipping close and his chest evening out a second later. His face, though still hollow and broken, looked quite peaceful, and you had a feeling this was the first time he had been at peace.
Your smile widened a little. Yes, you were going to care for him, treat him as one of your own, teach him and love him. You would be his Guardian Angel, and you promised to whoever would listen, that if anybody hurt him, they would have you to pay to.

Description

Pairing(s): Ciel Phantomhive & Reader
Length: 1,753
Additional Info: Angel Reader, Female Reader

Description:

What if the Demon was late?

*

The first tug came at night, midnight to be precise, when you were watching over a child who'd lost her way. You had been so focused on this lost child, watching intently as her smile became less fake and more genuine, her once-dull eyes sparkling with sincere happiness, that you hadn't even realised there was a tug.
When you finally did realise, it was so faint, almost hesitant, that you almost just passed it off as nothing. It couldn't be anything. After all, all those who call to an Angel are desperate; there would never be a single ounce of hesitance.
So you shook your head and ignored it- or tried to. Despite what you had been taught, you shrugged it off as nothing and tried to ignore it, so very sure of yourself, and slowly but surely it worked.
Until it just didn't.
The sky had been clear of clouds that day, allowing the bright sun rays to beam down upon the happy passerby, a gentle wind ruffling their hair and outfits. It had been peaceful, happy- and yet you were not.
The tug was there, still hesitant, still faint, but there was this feeling now. This odd, strange feeling of...something. You weren't sure what it was - dread? fear? sorrow? - but it was strong, so very strong that when it hit you, you had to stop, clench your eyes shut and take a few deep breaths, head pounding and feet stumbling whenever you moved.
But then it disappeared. The feeling was there one second and gone the next, leaving you to go back to normal- but you didn't. You couldn't. Despite the hesitance, despite the faint tug, that feeling - odd, desperate - had been too much, too strong to just ignore, but you couldn't go. Even if you wanted to help - which you found you did -, you didn't even know who was calling. There was no certain direction, just a faint tug and an odd feeling.
You didn't want to give up (Angels don't give up on Humans, no matter what), but-.
Before you could continue that train of thought, however, that feeling came back, along with that tug but- but it was different. The feeling was stronger, the tug no longer hesitant. This person, they wanted your help, now! Needed it, in fact, but how?
Again, you did not know where to go. You suddenly felt helpless, and you dreaded the thought that not all of this helplessness was from yourself.
Gripping the tree you had been walking by that day, you clenched your eyes shut, took a couple of deep breaths, and tried to block your surroundings out. It took a little longer than normal - though you were sure that was due to your overwhelming emotions - but finally, you managed to do it, and soon your mind was searching.
You could picture yourself moving from place to place, different buildings quickly moulding into one, people walking by turning into just blurring movement- and then you stopped.
There, in front of you, was a church. An ordinary church, that you would've probably thought nothing of under different circumstances. Maybe you would have gone inside, but you certainly would not have thought anything so tragically desperate would be inside.
You could feel the slight simmer of anger bubble in your stomach, but you quickly quenched it.
No, don't get angry. Be calm and help whoever needs your help. You scolded yourself. Opening your eyes, you took off running, hitching up your skirt so you wouldn't trip and fall. You didn't have any time to waste, you needed to get there quickly.
As you ran you could feel the glances and hear the snickers but you ignored them. None of these people was as important to you as this desperate being was suddenly.
People shrieked and shouted at you as you bumped into them, hastily apologising but they didn't matter, because suddenly the church was in front of you. You never knew a church could be as imposing as it was now, and you had been in plenty of them, always reminding yourself to say hello to Father.
A church should not be terrifying, you thought, angry at anybody who made it so.
Suddenly you felt the tug become stronger like somebody had hold of your hand in a tight grip and was dragging you in. You shook your head, soothing the anger away, and ran straight up to the doors, making sure not to trip over your skirt or feet. You practically threw yourself at the door.
You were making enough noise to get anybody's attention but you didn't care. Instead, you continued to throw yourself at the door, again and again, until finally, the doors opened and in you stumbled, straight to the floor.
You huffed at the strand of hair that fell into your eyes and scrambled your way upwards. You took one step- but stopped, because there, right there, in front of you were people. People dressed in dark robes. They looked as imposing and terrifying as ever, and if those robes weren't enough, the fact that they stood in front of a table, on which a young boy laid, eyes wide and searching desperately around him for someone to help.
Eh...what? This- this...? What? Why are they-? These are children of God, they- they wouldn't-... Would they? Why though? No, they can't but it's right there, the proof that they are.
A light glint blinded you for a second, and you looked up, just in time to see one of the robed people lift up a dagger, right above the boy's heart. You can't remember much of what happened next; just the sound of the boy's scream, mixed with the terrified shouts of the robed people and a loud clatter to the floor where the dagger now laid, and then- nothing.
You blinked a few times - once, twice, thrice - and looked around, wincing when you saw the bodies on the floor.
Are they-? Have I just-?
One of the people groaned and your head snapped in their direction, but their eyes were still closed, chest still lifting (though barely). They weren't dead, just gravely injured.... You weren't sure whether to be happy about that or not.
A light whimper brought your attention back to the boy in front of you and you turned, taking in the boy. He was skinny, too skinny, as evident by his hollow cheeks, and he wore nothing but a white button-up that stopped half-way to his thighs. His eyes, dark blue and wide, were showing fear, pure fear as they took you in, and you realised he was terrified of you.
As much as this hurt you, you understood. If you had been placed in his shoes, you would be too, fearful of any living thing. You didn't want to scare him though, so you took a deep breath and calmly smiled, keeping a good enough distance between the two of you.
"Hello, mister." You calmly said. He winced which caused you to wince as well. He seemed to want to shrink into himself, but he didn't. For some strange reason, he didn't. Instead, he tried to appear strong, undefeated, which may have worked had it not been for how tired and scared his eyes looked.
No amount of hiding could prevent you - who had seen eyes as hallow as his before - from seeing how broken this boy was.
And if there's anything I do best, it's helping people, you thought and decided right then and there, that you would be the one to help him. He called to you, though unknowingly (as most often do). This young, broken boy wanted somebody, anybody to help him, and that you can and will do.
"Let's get you out of these chains, shall we?" You carefully spoke, your voice gentle and soft, and waited for him to let you. You did not want to rush things.
He took a while, seemingly debating whether or not to let you near, but eventually he sighed and laid his head down, nodding ever-so-softly. You carefully walked over, swiftly taking the chains off of his ankles and wrists. You watched for any sudden movements from the boy, but he seemed too tired to even keep his eyes open, let alone fight you.
"Are you going to kill me?" The boy suddenly spoke and you froze, halfway between walking closer to him. You were going to ask if you could pick him up, so you could take him home and care for him there when he had spoken. His voice was as broken as his eyes were, hoarse and quiet at the same time. You dreaded to think about what had caused such hoarseness.
"Of course, not." You answered. The offence you felt altered how hard your tone was just a little and your eyes narrowed a little at such a thought. You were not those horrible, nasty people currently laying on the ground. You were here to protect him, not hurt him, and you said as much.
He did not seem to believe you but he also did not seem to care, and when you asked to pick him up, you got the slightest reaction from his body freezing up before it relaxed and he nodded silently.
Carefully, mindful of the cuts and bruises (which became more obvious the closer you looked), you placed one arm around his back and the other under his legs and carefully lifted him up, cradling him close to your chest.
As you turned, you carefully stepped over the men below, making sure not to trip and drop the boy. The young boy yawned as he curled into your embrace, though he tried to hide it, and you smiled gently at him, eyes shining with all the love and care a mother's eyes would.
"Get some sleep, my dear boy. I'll wake you when we get home." You said gently, and he did not waste a second to listen, eyes slipping close and his chest evening out a second later. His face, though still hollow and broken, looked quite peaceful, and you had a feeling this was the first time he had been at peace.
Your smile widened a little. Yes, you were going to care for him, treat him as one of your own, teach him and love him. You would be his Guardian Angel, and you promised to whoever would listen, that if anybody hurt him, they would have you to pay to.