The sideblog where I keep the SebaCiel, except it's basically my main now. Mostly GIFs, reblogs, and random shitposting. I am very strictly anti-censorship and care very deeply about media preservation.
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First WIP chapter for my "servants find out about SebaCiel AU". The fic's from Mey-Rin's POV where she (+ Bard and Finny) slowly realize that Sebastian and Ciel are in a secret relationship, only the servants assume it to be non-consensual and believe Sebastian is actually molesting Ciel. Whoops!
1.5k words. I still need to re-edit it and the end's a bit sloppy right now, but hey, it's done. If you want to, please let me know your thoughts and if I should continue it.
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It starts with bruises.
Deep into the night, the servants are finishing up their work. Just a few moments ago, Mey-Rin had managed to knock into another china cabinet, shattering not only five ornate plates, but also her week-long clean streak of not breaking anything. Tonight, however, she lacks the energy to dwell on it. She's been up far too long and simply yearns to retire to the soft confines of her bed as quickly as possible.
Now she kneels on the floor in search of stray ceramic shards. A broom would be faster, perhaps, but the pieces scattered upon being dropped, and with her eyesight she would surely miss some were she to rely on the broom.
“Mey-Rin, how close are you to finishing? I want to get to bed already.” Bard calls as he comes into the room, seemingly finished closing up the kitchen.
“Go on to bed, I’m just finishing up.”
“Can’t. Sebastian said he won’t dismiss me ‘til we’re both done.” He looks down at her on the floor, hands filled with the desecrated remains of plates and a trash can. He snorts. “How many weeks worth of pay d’you reckon that is?” She ignores him.
It's just the two of them now, the others in the house either busy or asleep. Sebastian is in the cellar working to fix a leak that had sprung up earlier in the evening. Finny and Tanaka have already gone to bed. Snake is… well, she's never quite sure where it is that Snake goes on any given occasion.
Mey-Rin chances a glance up at the clock. It's a quarter to midnight. Sebastian will likely be back from the cellar any minute. If he catches her before the mess is cleaned, she’ll have to sit through another scolding, and more importantly, wait even longer to finally be dismissed for the night. She is running out of time.
Mey-Rin lets out a whine. “Oh, Mister Sebastian will have my head once he comes up, yes he will.” She frantically snatches at the remaining shards, piling them into the trash.
Bard kneels next to her in an attempt to aid in the cleanup. Three-quarters of the way through, she grabs a particularly jagged piece.
“Shit.” The pain is instantaneous. A persistent, stinging burn down the length of her forefinger. She shoves her finger in her mouth, the coppery tang of blood pooling on her tongue.
“I’ll go get the bandages.”
Just as Bard stands up, they hear it. Faint shuffling coming from a nearby hall. Both servants still. Footsteps far too timid to belong to Finny, yet far too rushed and unstealthy to belong to either Sebastian or Snake.
They glance up at each other, exchange a curt nod, and draw their guns.
They trail the sound through the dark corridors, keeping a distance. Attacking immediately, as Bard so often points out, would be foolish. Gathering information is the priority.
Soft, hurried footsteps patter across the hard floor. It is clear there is only one assailant, an inexperienced one at that. At least the job will be quick.
The intruder leads them to the male servants’ wing. Odd. Perhaps they wish to rid the manor of any witnesses before going after the young master.
The footsteps come to a stop. Mey-Rin and Bard assume position behind the corner of the hall, just a few meters away from their guest. The lamps have long been doused, but Mey-Rin can still make out a bleary figure through the darkness.
Rattling of a doorknob. The first door is to Sebastian's room, which he often keeps locked. A light scuffing along the wood, as if the intruder is attempting to force the door open.
Mey-Rin takes the distraction as an opportunity to jump into action. Sliding her glasses up her head, she rounds the corner. Guns steady in her hands, fingers itching on the triggers, aiming straight for the oddly low head of the intruder.
She freezes in place. At the end of the barrels, partially obscured in shadow, stands the young master, his eye widened in shock.
Mey-Rin shrieks. She attempts to throw away her guns, but the blood from her finger has been pooling around one handle. The gun slips.
Bang. Her bloodied hand jams into the trigger, setting it off, and sending a bullet ricocheting into the wall.
In panic, Mey-Rin lunges forward to shield Ceil. The glasses slip back down over her eyes, the bottom of her boot catches on a loose lace forcing her to trip.
She stumbles directly into Ciel, and for a brief moment she fears she's about to knock him to the ground. She grips the front of his nightshirt and pulls him forward as hard she can. The boy shouts in surprise, but he stays upright in her impromptu embrace.
Bard rushes out from cover. “What the hell happened?!”
There’s a brief moment of pride in her that she hadn’t accidentally crushed the young master, though that pride is quickly replaced with the horror of knowing she nearly shot him. Twice.
“Young Master! Are you alright, sir?!”
Ciel jerks his head away from her chest. “Get off me.” He grumbles.
Mey-Rin immediately breaks her hold of him. “I am so, so, very, very sorry, Young Master. I’ll go fetch Mister Sebastian right away, I will-”
“No!” The two servants stare at him. Ciel lets out an exasperated sigh. “Enough, Mey-Rin. Don’t make this into something larger than it needs to be. And do not call for him, don’t even mention it to him. I am fine.” He begins to walk away, but the servants trail him closely.
“Young Master, where are you going?” Bard asks.
Ciel comes to a sharp stop. “Bed. And I can get there myself, I don’t need an escort.”
“But, Young Master, it’s too dark, yes it is. You could trip and get hurt!”
“Young Master, here, let me…” Bard strikes a match, filling the corridor with just enough light to see. Mey-Rin nearly gasps at the sight now clear to her.
There stands the young master, now illuminated by the small match. His white nightgown loose against his chest, slipping off one shoulder, the first few buttons of it having been snapped off by Mey-Rin. The sleeves now ride up ever so slightly on his forearms, exposing what’s underneath.
Bruises. Hardly over a day old from the color; deep red and purple splotches marring ivory skin. Wrapping all the way around bony wrists. Smaller blemishes scattered across his neck and chest, circling the dark shape of a large hand imprinted on his neck. Worse yet, bite marks, sharp enough to have been made by an animal, branded deep along his collarbone.
The servants can do nothing but stare. The sight of the young master in a battered state is, unfortunately, not novel, but Ciel has not left the manor for watchdog duty in some weeks. Even then, this, this is far different. None of the marks reach outside of what would be covered by his day outfits. They are deliberate. Calculated.
Cautiously, Mey-Rin reaches out to him. “Young Mast-”
“Young Master.” A chillingly calm voice cuts in from right behind her. Mey-Rin nearly jumps out of her skin as Sebastian emerges behind her. He holds a lit candelabra to his chest, though the shadows still seem to cling along the outline of his tailcoat.
Ciel groans upon seeing the butler. Sebastian returns it with a wide grin. “It is late. You should be in bed, my lord.”
“Really? I wasn’t aware that I have a bedtime now.”
Sebastian kneels down in front of the young master, tracing along the damaged part of his shirt with a gloved finger.
His hands move to fussing with the shirt's collar. “You've made quite the mess of yourself.” A notably deep bruise along the dip in Ciel's collarbone. Sebastian briefly slides the pad of his thumb over it. “Young Master, why, pray tell, were you so intent on this little nighttime venture of yours? Surely not just to break into my room.”
“I was not–” Sebastian tugs the young master’s nightshirt back into place with his free hand, covering the marks. “This is my house. I can come and go wherever I please.” Ciel huffs, his face bright red.
An amused scoff. “You know very well that it is not safe for you to traipse through the dark on your own. I could hear you bumbling about from all the way downstairs.”
“I was not being that loud.” Ciel crosses his arms over his chest.
“Ah, but loud enough to alert the others. Your stealth skills are lacking, sir, severely so. Of course, even if you were some master of the shadows, you would not be able to elude me.” Sebastian readjusts the nightshirt one last time, smoothing it down. Once satisfied, he stands back up, and beckons Ciel to follow him down the hall. “Come, Young Master, let us get you back to bed.”
Out of huffs to puff, the young master concedes in following him.
Sebastian pauses a moment. “Mey-Rin.” He turns back to finally acknowledge Mey-Rin and Bard, who have been standing in stunned silence through the entire interaction. “Do exercise better caution next time. As Phantomhive servants, the young master’s safety is to be our top priority.”
“Y-yes… Of course, Mister Sebastian, sir.”
Pleased, he returns to guiding the young master back to his quarters. Bard’s match goes out, leaving the two servants in the dark, dumbfounded.
I have a 5 + 1 things wip I made back in december for my servants find out au. I started fixing up the first chapter last night, so maybe I should post it here when I'm done
sorry, i don’t really have any. i barely watch movies or tv shows, i don’t follow artists, so i only know the biggest names. and the one thing i do know for sure is that the last person i’d want to see as ciel is timothée chalamet.
sebaciel from the other servants' perspectives is so fascinating. sebastian's past is a complete mystery. considering his vast skill set he had to have been someone highly valued, but he dedicates everything to his position at the manor, dedicates his entire life to keeping a young boy safe and well. ciel is a boy who's lost his entire family and has been saddled with an impossible amount of responsibilities at such a young age, yet he still holds his own. he keeps everyone at arms length, both emotionally and physically, except sebastian. the two of them have a close unbreakable bond, and the servants understand this. they've even come to view sebastian as a sort of father figure to ciel. from their point of view, the two are nothing but a misfortune yet persistent young earl, and a selfless servant there to protect and guide him for seemingly nothing in return.
the servants live in innocent ignorance to the true nature of their bond.
Oh that's 100% what I was thinking. And those two always get freaky in the carriage while Snake is driving, so him and his snakes can hear/feel everything.
(written for sebaciel week 2026. you can view the fic on ao3 here.) 🔞
(ciel dissociates. with background past cielcest<3)
Ciel liked having sex with Sebastian. He shrunk from admitting it aloud, as he shrunk from many things – but the sexual component to their relationship was, in fact, initiated by him. If anything, Sebastian’s feelings on it were the more ambiguous of the two, but Ciel valued his pride far too highly to verbally query whether he shared his appetite. It ultimately made no difference.
Any failings in their coupling were, then, of Ciel’s own making. He was in many ways a loaded gun when it came to sex; he shot to seek it, but he equally backfired on himself if some external factor so happened to brush the trigger. Most days he could not predict how he might react. Even so he sought it still.
They had fucked that night; he knew they had. But when he came to, he found himself lying belly-down on the bed naked, with no recollection of what exactly they had done or how it had felt. Vying to latch onto any semblance of a sensation, he made patterns of the silken bed sheets on his fingertips, eye opening hazily to study where his hand rested right in front of his nose. Visibly his fingers moved, but the soft, smooth give of the fabric was gone from his nerves. If it was there, it registered as no more than a vague vibration. Physically he was sure of only one thing: he knew he had been fucked, because there was the telltale, hot ooze of semen from his backside when he shifted one knee, and a dull ache in his gut.
Even that was indistinct – but he’d known it hundreds of times, and his body could only shield so much reality from him.
An absentminded groan heaved from his chest. He felt strange, and small, and back in the confines of metal bars. Closing his eyes, he hoped for sleep to take him from the torture – but jolted with the click of the door opening.
“My lord?”
It took him a moment to recognise the voice as Sebastian’s. He sounded distant and subdued, as if Ciel were wearing invisible earmuffs. Even so, the rational part of his mind sensed that the tone was concerned. Sebastian had immediately noticed that he was not right.
Ciel lay very, very still. One side of the bed dipped, and there he saw Sebastian clutching a bowl of water and a cloth. Dismissively he dropped the cloth into the water, reaching out to instead press his palm against Ciel’s forehead. Ciel barely felt it.
“You don’t seem to have a temperature, at least. Do you feel ill affected by our actions?”
Minutely Ciel nodded. It was not the first time. Some days, fucking Sebastian made him feel invincible. Today, it made him feel elsewhere entirely.
“Well, I am all ready to clean you. That should at least bring you some comfort.” On his knees, he shuffled onto the bed and placed himself between Ciel’s calves. Ever so gently, he lifted Ciel’s hips upward and dabbed his leaking hole with the warm, damp cloth. He held it there for a moment, just to keep from startling Ciel – and a juddering sigh of relief exhaled through Ciel’s lips.
It was warm. Gentle. Everything that they were not.
Held like this and carefully wiped between kisses to his behind and fingers caressing his calves, he was reminded of times long before they took him – to the times when he and his brother would lie holding one another and curiously grinding until, eventually, they both became messy. He remembered being held in Ciel’s arms and wiped just like this – a memory of their relationship that he much preferred over the complexities it grew after they forced them to fuck one another.
But this was not complex. It was simple and loving, just like before. Little by little, Ciel relaxed, and he even felt himself grow a little hard when Sebastian dipped a finger into his hole to wipe away any excess. That was a good sign.
“I don’t remember what we did,” he murmured. Finally he found himself able to speak, albeit with his ears rendering his own voice like some underwater entity.
Sebastian paused, wiping the warm water across his rim one last time before standing to put the bowl down.
“May I sit with you in bed?”
Ciel nodded.
He gracefully placed himself against the headboard, still without his jacket post-coitus, and easily hauled Ciel up by his waist to sit him between his thighs. He buried his face into Ciel’s neck and wrapped his arms gently around his middle, keeping him flush and secure against the expanse of his warm torso.
“You seemed very frustrated with Her Majesty after reading her latest letter, and shortly thereafter, you ordered me to take you to bed and fuck you until you had no memory of the thing. I fear I might have succeeded a little too well in that part, my lord, but I assure you that you seemed to enjoy yourself very much until now.” He kissed along the soft curve of Ciel’s cheek, following the perfect point of his jaw.
Ciel sighed. A vague recollection unveiled itself to him, but if he was as irritated as Sebastian claimed, he would rather leave it as a problem for tomorrow. Instead, he nestled into the one place in the entire world that was safe for him.
“That does sound like me.” He felt now a throb in his wrists; his nerves were slowly coming back to him. Reddened indents marred the fair skin, evidencing where Sebastian had restrained him to anchor each thrust as hard as possible.
Sebastian chuckled at that, following Ciel’s gaze to rub a thumb fondly over his bruised skin.
