A/N: For the record, I've opted to call Undertaker "Adrian Crevan" in some scenes, solely because it fits into the plot. I know it's not explicitly stated what his name is in the manga/anime, but I know a good number of fans attribute that name to him on occasion, so I will too, at least here.

Again, this a dedicated to nobilisira  (formerly @~Kurosin)! Thanks so much once more for your interest in my writing! It meas the world to me.

{{Lines indicate time skips.}}

___________________

I wasn't sure if I believed him when he told me, but he was a little too excited to be lying, and, if it helps, I was one of the only people he trusted with that sort of information.

He was a friend of mine, younger than me- though he didn't know it. We all have our secrets, right? I followed him to his school one day. He told me I had to meet the man. I just had to. I almost revealed what I could do, solely because he didn't know me as well as he thought he did.

For once in my lifetime, I wanted to do the right thing.

Let me tell you about who I am, what I was, the friend I made, and how my world became his all because of an old cliche:

The truth really is stranger than fiction.

___________________

"Valerie, Valerie, Belle, Belle, Belle!"

I sighed. I'd stopped trying to bury the bubbling happiness I felt when I was with him. I couldn't hide my smile, though I wanted so badly to hold onto what'd kept me strong all my life.

Once I allow myself  to get close to someone, I realise all too late that they'll one day be gone. I'm the only one like me. I can't die. I never will.

"What ya readin'?" I snapped my book closed, blushing.

"Nothing." The black cover of what was a popular book scratched my wrist. It was hard for me not to heal it immediately. I simultaneously resisted the urge to force my friend to see it as worse injury. It's hard being good.

"You read Harry Potter yet?" He leaned around me, struggling to get a glimpse at the oblique novel I kept trying to unsuccessfully squash back into my bag.

"No." I huffed. "I don't want to either, Vincent."

"Why not? Diedrich says it's really good!" He snickered. "Did you know some of the girls around her still read those Twilight catastrophes?" I went red, coughing, thankful I spent the extra three pounds for the hardcover version. The paper sleeve was gone, and I was in the clear. Vincent crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. "Why don't you like Harry Potter?"

I groaned, tossing my own head back. Of course I couldn't tell him the truth, that it's a horrible, unfair devaluation of people like me, of the only real witch I know. Voldemort...or...whatever his name was...tried and died in a vain attempt to do what I could from birth. Who would want this life of eternal loneliness? "Witches and wizards aren't real, or at least, not happy like that." I covered my lie with the truth. I didn't want to do that: pretend to be something I'm not, but what other choice did I have? Eventually, Vincent Phantomhive would leave me just like everybody else.

"How do you know?" He unfolded his arms, offering me his hand. "Have you ever met a witch?"

I lied again. "No." My wrist was better, too as I locked my arm in his.

___________________

"I think you'll have fun! Come with me to school. I know it's an all boys academy, but I can sneak you in." He elbowed me. "Huh, Belle?"

His nickname for me was always something I found rather charming. It was only later that I realised it was because of another dumb movie. Vincent's best mate, a German lad named Diedrich, mentioned to me that I reminded Vincent of the main character in Beauty and the Beast. I took it as a compliment, but when Vincent and I couldn't find the time to watch it, we both agreed it was a sub-par film. I just let him call me whatever he liked because no one else ever bothered to give me a nickname at all.

I smiled, crossing my arms as he kept prodding me. "Why do you want me to come so badly?" He stopped his taunts and relented.

"There's someone I wanted you to meet. I think you'd like him, and to be fair, Belle," he smirked. "Someone as pretty as you should have a boyfriend by now."

We'd never date. I'll make that clear so there's no confusion going forward. We'd always been friends, and that was the way I wanted it. Plus, he'd inevitably go out with a beautiful girl named Rachel. I knew it because of what I can do. From the moment they met in the summertime, I knew they'd be together until the very end. Somehow, I got a feeling it wouldn't be pleasant for them forever, which only furthered my strange obsession with protecting him, the only person for whom I'd ever wanted to do such a thing.

I shrugged. "Maybe I just don't want one."

He waved his hand, dismissing my remark. "Nonsense. Everyone wants to get it on once in their life." He whistled the tune to an American song, something by a man named Marvin Gaye, and I reluctantly followed him.

"Want me to drive you or, do you want to walk?"

"Don't you have a driver?" Vincent was loaded. Like, crazy, stupid wealthy. The kind of rich where one could picture him in a manor back in the late 1800s, with a butler and a guard-dog and land reaching across the city, with an additionally expensive townhouse only kilometres away, ostentations everywhere. I was jealous, but if I wanted, I could easily be that way myself. With all the time in the world, all I'd have to to is invest some money in a savings account and over the course of a few centuries, the interest alone could make me a millionaire.

"Yeah. Tanaka's a lousy conversation partner, though. Plus," we turned the corner and before us sat a frightening little machine, a silver motorcycle, it's sapphire glittering sides sparkling in the sun. "I just got this bad boy and I wanted to take it on a test run."

I fidgeted, not wanting to get on something like that. I preferred traditional means of travel. Though I could easily make the bike do what I wanted, the thought of us being in a crash freaked me out. I couldn't imagine Vincent would want to see me bending metal back together if he were to get hurt being stupid. "Are you capable of piloting that thing safely? I've never seen you ride one before."

"Uh, Belle," he grabbed my hand without asking me. "Have you met me? I'm the safest person ever." He pulled me towards his new toy. "I'm basically the boring father figure out of my friends. Trust me." He kicked one leg over the side, revving the engine, and I anxiously vaulted myself over the back. "Hold on to my waist, and just to warn you, these things can make ladies like yourself what've never touched a man feel vibrations that might rub them the wrong way. Don't let her fool you," he turned around and grinned. Neither of us wore a helmet. "She's mine."

"What are you-" he revved the engine harder the second time, and we sped into the street, rounding the corner before I could finish my inquiry. He was right, though. It felt sexual, not that I really understood it subjectively, and for some peculiar reason, I got a sense of what my own future held as I strained to picture the man I was to meet.

I couldn't see anything, the reason for which I'd eventually wholeheartedly appreciate. He was more like me than I could have ever wished for.

___________________

My hair flew around my face. Rosey hues akin to that of a rusted sovereign or a sixpence (though far more lovely) spiralled around my clothing. Several strands stuck to my eyes. Their unwelcome invasions almost caused me to tear up.

Vincent let out a low whistle, as we both tilted our faces to gaze on at the timeless beauty of his school. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

I nodded, though I disagreed. I didn't like it, but thankfully he thought I was too impressed by where he'd taken me to speak rather than dazed from his crazy, one-sided joyride. It was grandiose and spectacular.

"Okay, so," he started to walk with me, leading me to where he told me his new friend was waiting for us. "There's something I have to tell you before you meet the guy, and you've got to promise me you'll do a few things to ensure I don't look absolutely bat-shit insane."

I laughed and shook his hands off my shoulders. "Fine." I glanced above us. Red roses criss-crossed white latticework. Emerald vines embraced English Ivy, obstructing the presence of thorns. I felt a pang in my chest. Those particular flowers always reminded me of my misery, rather than the beauty of our gardens, let alone a symbol of England. The only possible connection they'd have to the concept of patriotism in my mind was that they made me think of blood. I picked up a lot of languages over the course of my lifetime, and I came to know that people tied their land to their lives.

My phone rang, a serendipitous and ultimately remarkable occurrence, since very few people ever called me.

🎶 Buleria, buleria, tan dentro del alma mia
Es la sangre de la tierra en que naci
Buleria, buleria, mas te quiero cada dia
De ti vivo enamorado desde que te vi...🎶

Vincent seemed rather surprised as well when I grunted and flipped open my cellphone. I refused to get an updated one. I had no problem with iPods but I hated their counterparts. Why people wouldn't just use phones as phones was beyond me. Ever since I observed a kid looking up how to call someone from an iPod, or an iPHONE, I lost my senses and refused to own such a tool for idiots.

"Hello?" I cussed loudly and slammed the poor thing closed. "A sales call."

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish." Vincent quickly glossed over my irritation. Everyone got those now and again, but I seemed to get hassled more than the average person.

"Yeah, it's a song by David Bisbal." I grinned. "Want a translation?"

"No Thanks. I can Google it." My smile fell momentarily. "As I was saying." He stopped and spun me around to face him. "My demands." I covered my mouth with my hand and laughed when he spoke. I thought it was polite to do that on occasion. "One." He held up a finger. "You have to believe every word I say. Take them all at face value." I nodded, my hand remained where it was. "Two." He inhaled, flashing another finger. "You can't ask him if I'm lying. I'm not." Three. He leaned in and whispered. "You must answer this question." I removed my hand.

"Ask it."

"Do you believe in vampires?" I wasn't sure how to respond, so I went with my gut.

"Maybe. If I met one and they seemed real enough, then yeah. I mean, there could be other things out there we don't know about, right?" I clearly was referring to myself. Vincent beamed.

"Good. Because Adrian is one." I snorted.

"Adrian? Is he a student?" Vincent tugged me along again, and we left the rose garden behind us.

"Nope. He's an undertaker."

___________________

I found it strangely difficult to consider Vincent sane after that, which was undoubtedly my greatest act of hypocrisy. I tried to take everything he said in stride, but as he rambled on, all I could think about was myself.

If he was that excited about something supernatural, what would he think of me, if he knew me for what I really am, or was? I was trying to change but I couldn't imagine someone else like me would if they hadn't found someone like Vincent Phantomhive to bring them back from the dark side. Did he not know that vampires and witches and the children of the night (as that one fictional Count who everyone referenced when they tried to dodge accusations about being into vampires because of the same series I secretly enjoyed myself called them) are the bad guys? They live by sinning, by killing and by manipulating people. At least, that's what I believed was necessary in my own life. Maybe it wasn't like that for everyone else. I might have been the truly selfish one all along.

"So, he sleeps in a coffin. He's got really sweet hair. It's like, wicked long even in today's world." He swiveled around to stare at me. "Hey! It's kind of like your eyes! Oh, and he dresses like you, too." He spun back around and kept walking. "You guys seem older than you are. Well, you do at least." He lifted a tattered swatch of silk billowing slightly in the soft winds so I could walk under it. It functioned largely as the entryway to the perimeter of the outside recreational facilities the staff weren't so keen on students using, as they weren't technically part of the school itself. Years ago, some really really really rich kid made them of his own fruition. I knew of him, but never met him personally. All I know is he was smart. Smart enough not to get caught, and to have students years later take the fall for his preening, leaving the responsibility of covering it up to future generations. Unsurprisingly, they gladly did just that. Prefects every term divided their attention between caring for their little "club" and all the other roles a private schoolboy took on. I could only imagine the crushing weight of such responsibility.

"We don't usually like it when girls come in here, okay? Just so you know, I'm actually doing you a huge favour. Close your eyes." I listened and shut them tightly as he ushered me into a dark room before a strong amber light caused them to flutter open, fortunately just as Vincent gave me the all clear. I gasped. "Impressed?"

"You could say that." He laughed proudly as I took it all in. It was as though I'd stepped into the Bellagio in Las Vegas. The only major difference was that there was no one else around. Instead, I observed the inanimate objects inside: the decor, the obvious influence of decades of affluence and free-time. The walls were adorned in period-style wallpaper, reminding me once more of the image of Vincent as a turn of the century Earl in a mansion in the West End. Certain parts of the floor were covered in a deep, rich wood, while others were stitched with a carpet by a designer I know had only ever distributed similar patterns to diplomats and generals, royalty and heads of state. Gilded lamps hung low on the walls, and candelabras cast tawny shadows on pool-hall tables, roulette stands and racks upon racks of various sporting equipment ranging from tennis rackets and cricket bats to longbows and old-fashioned fox-hunting rifles. I mirrored Vincent's previous action and whistled involuntarily, before I got excited, perhaps even more involuntarily, or, more befittingly: naturally. I was in my element.

I pointed at the billiard table. "Do you play?"

"Of course. Do you?" I flashed him a smug look. When I got bored over the course of the ceaseless nights without much to do, I took up gambling, hustling losers in pubs all over the world, solely because I'd always win, and none of them dared to hurt a cute little girl like me.

"I've never lost a game."

Vincent returned my simper. "Oh yeah, wanna bet?"

"Fifty thousand pounds, rich kid."

"Hell no."

"Fine by me, but can we at least wager your friend? She's worth her weight in gold, though I can't say it'd be very much." Was that a compliment or an insult?

A third voice broke in, and Vincent eagerly greeted the person he'd so wanted me to come to know myself. "Adrian!!!!!!" He ran up and threw his arm around the taller man's neck. "How've ya been, mate?"

"Is no one going to address the fact that he wanted to include me as a prize?" Vincent stopped his childish antics and slid back into a normal position.

"What gives, Belle?" He raises an eyebrow. "Why you suddenly so offended?" I crossed my arms and turned away from him. He swirled around and apologised for my rudeness.

"Why don't we play anyway?" The other man leaned in, navigating around Vincent in order to address me directly. "I'd stake my life on conquering you, my sweet." I exhaled slowly. He was already pissing me off.

I turned and grinned. "Fine, but it'll kill you. I don't know if you heard me before, but I never lose."

He flashed his teeth back at me. They were blindingly white, like freshly cleaned bone. "Oh I heard you." Vincent seemed to dislike the fact he was being ignored, and he cleared his throat imperiously after his friend's next jabs. "How's about you give us a kiss if we win?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Two against one, Adrian was it?" My eyes flashed to Vincent's before returning to those of the man I'd just come to know and to dislike. He nodded and raised his hand to his mouth to cover his laugh, just as I'd done.

"Yes, my dear. Adrian Crevan, but most people call me Undertaker." I rolled my eyes. I'd usually be far more polite when first meeting someone, but he'd already gotten under my skin. There was no use faking it.

"They call you by your profession?" He nodded again, giggling before Vincent interrupted us once more.

"We can talk all about this later, but I actually wanted to play." I blushed as he assured me he didn't want me as a trophy. He then handed me a cue. "If you're as good as you say at this, pony up. Beat us both, and I actually might consider paying you the ridiculous sum you asked for."

"Only if it means I don't have to kiss Undertaker over here." I thew my thumb in his direction.

The two of them laughed as I stood there indignantly, poised to win, unknowingly turning redder by the second.

___________________

I held an enormous bag of bills in my arms, gloating pompously at the chagrin of my best friend.

"You didn't have to pay me, you know." I rolled my fingers over one of the fat stacks of cold, hard cash.

"You didn't have to go cash it in, then get the smallest bills you could so you could rub it in my face."

"I'm not rubbing it in your face."

"Yes you are." I stopped walking, groaning as I couldn't get the second loser off my back. I smashed the wad of money against Vincent's nose, rubbing it back and forth. "This is rubbing it in your face!" The man behind me chortled.

"Cut it out!" He batted my hand away. "Oi, Adrian." Vincent was probably one of the only people who called the mysterious man who I still struggled to understand despite all my powers by his first name. "Let's finish that talk."

___________________

We sat on a bench beside the courtyard, listening to the sounds of a cricket match being held in the nearby athletic fields. I sipped a cup of steaming tea, trying desperately not to break any of Vincent's priorly established rules.

"So, Adrian. Tell Valerie here a little about yourself."

"What happened to Belle?" I swallowed the scalding liquid a little too quickly. It burned the back of my throat, but it was better as it happened. I noticed his eyes widen a touch when I healed myself, like he could tell that I did so. "Now that our little rosebud has shown her thorns you no longer consider her so pulchritudinous?"

"What does that even mean?" Vincent and I countered at the same time before we turned and smiled politely at each other. The corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Beautiful, in a hauntingly perfect, heartbreaking way." I huffed, denying the fact I was complimented by what I considered to be the perfect way to describe a rose. I felt like he knew me, understood me, and I detested it.

"Well no, then, clearly." Vincent patted my head. "Valerie would never break my heart. She's too nice to do that, no matter how tough she acts." I sighed, and though I knew he chalked it up to my not wanting to accept praise, it was because it broke my heart to hear him say such a thing. He had no idea. "Alright, Adrian. I need you to tell Valerie alllllll about yourself. Leave no stone unturned. I'm talking full frontal here." He clapped his hands. "Do as I say! I am in charge!"

"Oh, right. Vincent, congratulations. I forgot you're now the head fag."

I winced. "Oooh." Vincent growled before I covered for him. "Americans ruined that word for us. Now it means gay."

"Is that a bad thing?"

I stammered in my ineptitude to form a proper response. "N-n-no! It's just- teenagers can be mean, and this is an all boys school, so the stereotypes here are-"

"Save it Valerie, he's only joking." I growled that time and testily folded my arms. Vincent put his arm around me, then did the same to his other friend. "Come on, get along you jackasses." He whispered to the one beside him, two bodies away from where I sat. Good. I hoped it'd stay that way. "I don't think she likes you." I flipped my hair over my shoulder. "Know anything that might change that?" He let me go, and reached for my bag. I swatted his hand away, before he defended himself. "Belle," I clutched my possessions to my chest, fearing he'd overturn the purse entirely, making a fool of me for more than just the three of us to see. "You still have that mirror?" He held out his hand as I dug for it, placing it in his open palm. He turned to address the other man. "Adrian. Would you mind standing behind my lovely friend here?" He agreed. "I don't think she'll let you get very far unless you prove yourself." I wasn't sure if he knew what Vincent had already told me, but in hindsight, it seemed likely. "Open it, Belle." I agreed, and as I searched and searched for Adrian's reflection in the glass, I saw nothing, even as I turned around and held it right to him.

"See, Valerie?" Vincent boasted. "I told you he was a vampire!"

___________________

"What else would you like to know?" We'd been talking for hours. Vincent had met up with Diedrich, and was enthralled when I barley noticed him leave. I was too stunned to react properly. Finally, after years of doubt, I'd met someone else like me.

"Will you die?" My voice must have sounded panicked. "Ever?"

"Not unless someone kills me." I let out a sigh of relief. I still didn't like him, but to know that he was real, that alone was the most comforting certainty I'd ever recognized. "What about you, then?" He leaned in closer. "Valerie Belrose the Black Magician." I almost screamed. "Does your best friend forever, the noble Vincent Phantomhive, know you're a witch?"

I didn't squirm away or make any effort to fight him off. For the first time in eons, I was afraid. I didn't know what he was capable of. No matter how harmless he made Vincent think he was, he could be far stronger than anyone or anything I'd ever encountered. "How do you know?"

"Hmmmmmm" He sniggered. "So he doesn't." He drummed his fingers against the armrest of the bench on which we were still sitting. "Better not tell. I don't see the use in it at the moment."

I turned to face him, determined to get my answer as well. "How do you know what I am?"

"I'll tell you anything you want." He paused. "For a price."

I thrust my head back and grumbled as loud as I could. My entire body slumped down, so I almost fell off the ironwork. He helped me back up, and I pushed him away. "What is it? What do I have to give you for you to tell me everything you know?" I mocked his movements and the way he said it, which caused him to chuckle. He raised his hand to his chin, stroking it with a long, ghastly finger topped with a sharp black nail. Pretty vampiric. "Well, I'd usually opt for humour, laughs, jokes, and the like, but I actually would like something else this time." His hair fell across his face, and his eyes lit up in mirth, gleaming in an almost iridescent fashion. I begrudgingly consented, gesturing for him to continue. "Hows about that kiss I asked for earlier?"

If I were religious I would have crossed myself before doing it, but I wasn't and I didn't. I forced my lips against his, only to veer around as I heard more than one masculine guffawing. Someone took out their phone and started playing that same Marvin Gaye song Vincent had been whistling before. I swore profusely before my threats were drowned out by whooping. Diedrich and a few other boys slapped Vincent on the back for playing matchmaker.

"Get it ooooooonnnnnnn." Vincent hushed them and clicked his tongue at me.

"Well, Valerie, I thought it'd take more than a few hours for you to get intimate, but you've never been one to take things slow." He waved his hand for his friends to follow, calling back over his shoulder. "But if you do want to have a satisfactory dogging, do just that! Go for the gold! Set a new world record! Take years! Centuries! No one likes a quickie! Don't leave him thirrrrrsssstyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" I wanted to shoot Vincent with one of his many guns that afternoon, but he was on to something.

I cursed him under my breath. "I hope someone burns your stupid clubhouse to the ground, you bugger."

___________________

I never wanted to have to take back a threat as terribly as that one. I just knew something bad was going to happen to my friend. The moment they escaped my lips, those words began to haunt me.

The moon was high over the bell-tower, as a fire burned in the distance. The stars were covered by a dense fog, and the cloisters of Weston College were hiding something.

Make that someone. Me. I, Valerie Belrose, am a witch, and I've made it my one and only goal for the foreseeable future to defend my friend to the death. After I talked to Adrian, he told me literally everything he knew and it took weeks. I don't require much sleep, and neither did he, so by the time we got through it all, Vincent and his friends were back into their work, and were once again distracted by the difficulties of school. It turned out it was actually quite a load. They were more responsible than I thought after all. Still, it wouldn't save them, especially Vincent. He was headed for disaster, and I yearned to be there for him, but I knew I couldn't. I hadn't the faintest clue as to why, but I sensed another block in my foresight. Adrian, or Undertaker, as I called him around most people, had come into my life after centuries of loneliness, and I didn't see it coming, but I most certainly sensed it. That's how I felt then, too, in that moment. If there were creatures like him, and people roughly human like me, then what else could be lurking out there? If he and Rachel had a son one day, and one of those entities found him, could I do anything about it by myself without any help? I didn't think so, which is when I decided to start loving Adrian Crevan. It might have marked the end of how I'd always regarded myself, but it would save my friend, and he'd already shown me a side I didn't even know I had to present. Undertaker told me of an organisation that would accept him. It had been around for ages, and he knew Vincent's mother, Claudia, had loose ties to it.

For centuries, those who placed their faith in the wild unknown had been ostracised by society. Whether or not they practiced black magic, the world made pariahs of witches.

In London, there existed a cult of the wealthy, the elite, those working for the Crown: the Kings and Queens of England, who answered only to God, known as The Aristocrats of Evil. While these villainous noblemen used to serve the monarchy more directly, their influence hasn't died down at all in modernity. The twenty-first century merely brought  out a different side to their longstanding heraldry of sin. Some might say their power has even grown stronger.

For the first time in my life, I hated myself for being alone because of my choices. I should have given in sooner and used my years of immortality to protect and serve even more innocent people instead of taking and naming them as my own.

Protecting Vincent Phantomhive became my dearest ambition. It gave my mere existence meaning, and I couldn't bear the thought of forsaking him. Thankfully, the man he'd wanted me so badly to love could help keep safe the only friend I ever had. That is, as safe as any mortal could be.

He did tell me, and at first, I didn't fully believe him. He was an undertaker, a mortician, but that wasn't even close to being the most important thing about him.

He was a vampire, and the night was just as much his as it was mine.

"Come down from there..."

I scolded him for being so loud. "Go away!" I was in a tree, a shadow in the darkness, guarding my companion as he rested, ensuring no harm came to him at any hour, especially his most vulnerable one.

"You can't protect him forever, you know. He will die."

"I know!" I hissed. "Fuck off!" He laughed at me again.

"Valerie, if you really want to honor his wishes, why don't you come down here and do that to me instead?"

"Do what?" I chided, though I knew what he meant.

"Me." He opened his arms, bending over into a graceful bow. "Are you not a fan of that revolting vampire series?"

"So?" I contested. "You're far from Edward Cullen!"

"Perhaps I'm a member of the Volturi. The coven I serve isn't unlike theirs." I nearly slipped from the branches.

After regaining my footing, I susserated with even more hostility. "So you read my novels. What of it? Does that mean I'm supposed to like you? Does that mean I'm supposed to go back to that man-cave with you and christen my winnings from when we met by fucking you in Vincent's money?"

I really should have shut up.

___________________

I placed my hands against the sides of the table, the green velvet of the surface tickled my palms as I was pushed backwards. Two others wrapped around my waist, and I let my inhibitions go.

Embarrassingly enough, I had actually brought all fifty-thousand pounds back to that room because I had a hunch something like what did happen would happen. I suppose he did, too, since they were already cast all over the place like we were in one of those cash grabbing machines on reality television shows. If someone were to walk in on us, we'd look like two out-of-place goth kids on an episode of Jersey Shore.

He picked me up. His nails scratched at my neck as he tugged at my shirt. I wrapped my legs around him, hiking up layers of dark black fabric so I could easily get out of my skirt. He took the opportunity to set me on the wooden edge, just long enough for him to take off his own clothes. Both of us kept our shirts on, but in a disrespectful flouting of Vincent's advice, we began rather fast. Well, fast for us.

"So do you wanna call me Ed-" I slapped him before he could further desecrate the moment.

"I hate that book now. You're far better than an imaginary version of you."

"Quite the compliment." He hoisted me up even higher, and I motioned for him to continue. "I suppose it's because I'm real." I grunted.

"Go on, Under-Ardria-"

He cut me off this time by holding me away rather than pulling me closer. "Undertaker is fine. I like that name, and it'd be safer if you got used to liking it, too." I rolled my eyes and struggled in his grip.

"Fine! I'll call you whatever you want! Just do this, or me, already!"

Still, he hesitated. "I'll help you protect those you love, forever. Just answer one question for me."

I responded without a trace of hesitation. "Anything." No one ever offered me any consolation, let alone one so uplifting before. I laughed. He literally was lifting me up from where I'd been.

"When I kiss you, will you let me say something, rather embarrassing, but nonetheless something I've always wanted to say if the opportunity presented itself?"

"Only if you answer something I desperately want to know."

"I live to serve." If I wasn't already as wet as one could get I'd definitely be extra moist when he uttered that*.

"Have you done this before?"

"Nope. You haven't either, have you?"

"Nope."

"Well, then." He pulled me back against him, and I could feel how excited he was the moment our bodies made contact. He as was human physically as any other man, and it showed. It only turned me on more to know I was making him want it as badly as I did. "Here's the funny thing. He bucked his hips as he said it, and admittedly, it was rather lame. "You know what I am, and how I like to kiss people. It's a kiss of death, and I know you speak French." I shuddered as his teeth scraped my collarbone, finding, miraculously, the sweetest possible spot he could on his first try. I moved my hips without thinking, and I knew he liked it.

"Oui je fais, mon amour." I stared to pant in anticipation. "Pourquoi demandez-vous?"

"My love, I ask, because I'd like to know if you're familiar with the term la petite mort."

I knew exactly what he meant. "The little death?" He was almost to a point where he could move inside me, but he held back. I was losing it. I wanted him to continue so intensely, I could have cried. Instead, I let out a tiny moan as he grazed me. His nails cut through the thin lace of my blouse. He was eager, too. "A poetic term for coming? Dying in one's arms?"

He closed his eyes and I felt him pulsate. Holy mother of God I couldn't wait another second. "Précisément, ma belle sorcière." I rolled my backside up and down, and clasped my hands around his neck, leaning down to present my own.

"Die inside me, fossoyeur." I cast my head back, urging him to bite me. "Or should I call you by what you really are?" I inhaled and slid myself against him with as much force as I could muster. The whole situation had made me so weak. "Vampire."

I almost got exactly what I wanted, but before I did, he demanded one thing, and I knew, though it was undeniably  embarrassing, that it was for the best. His lips touched my throat, and he murmured against it. I was immediately reminded of Vincent's enduro. This was a far more tantalizing sort of throbbing. "Call me by what I told you, and it'll be the death of me." He bit me to prove his point.  "Then you can call me your slave."

I couldn't resist and I rightfully took him by yielding my own pride. He pushed himself inside me as I whimpered, a defeated yet victorious necromancer. "Vous gagnez, Undertaker."

"I win? I didn't know this was a game, but it would be a grievous offence to decent sportsmanship if I declined to claim my prize." He thrust into me, and I regretted having to do what I did, since I wasn't sure if it applied. I felt like a complete and utter moron for not thinking of it sooner. I wiggled myself away, so he was just outside, and I could feel the light dripping of an inviting liquid against me. It was so tempting. Tears streamed down my face as I wrestled against my provocation. Every part of me was crying out in protest. "You're killing me, Valerie. Has one moment like this left you completely saturated?" He seized the nape of my neck, coercing me back onto him, but again, I refused. He laughed, kissing my throat, humming in my ear as his tongue traced the marks from my weeping. "You really are a virgin." My heart beat so rapidly I believed he really could kill me. "They get wet so easily."

"Y-y-youre a virgin, too." I whined.

"Yes, I am." He pulled me against him but I held fast to my stance. It took every ounce of my strength to resist.

"We need to use protection, Under-t-t-t-" he shushed me.

"You only needed to say that once." He snaked his hand up my leg, stroking the small space between the lowest part of my other side and where he'd just been. A knot formed in my abdomen, and the apprehension was excruciating. This time I couldn't tell if the wellspring that had manifested between us was coming from him or from me. "And it doesn't matter in our case." He thrust forward, and punctuated his next words with the tearing off of the rest of my clothes. "Can't you see that? Or have I dulled your senses?'

He was right. I suspected there would be more than one condom in that place, whether or not girls romped through it on a regular basis. We didn't need them. Perhaps I was just nervous. "No." I breathed in, moving forward, and I felt no pain when he entered me. I held in a wail, not wanting anyone to hear us. "You've brought me back to life." I twitched each time he shifted in the slightest way, and we fell back against the table where I'd bested him before.

"It might just be plausible to assume that you were a phoenix in a past life." He put his lips to my ear and blew gently against it, making every part of me quiver. "If you like, one day I can demonstrate an appropriate position to prove it." I peered over my shoulder to see the same bank notes strewn everywhere. A few swirled around us in the gentle breezes coming in through the high, Tiffany windows. Even swaddled in capital, I felt poor in this hall built by cosset hands. "You could use a good laugh." I tittered delicately, in earnest by and by. He smiled bigger than anyone I'd ever seen, and it satisfied me more than I can say, to this day, than anything ever could to know it was all for me.

"I-I-I-" It was hard to speak, so he elected to make it even harder. He kissed me. My own lips parted, and he caressed my chest with his hand. The other held mine, as I wrapped my leg further around him. We continued wordlessly for what felt like hours, and I thought back to Vincent's remarks. Eventually, I felt closer to the edge, and I made an effort to make a request despite the complications it posed.

He smirked and I could feel his lips curl into a grin as he let me go. "What do you want, my bewitching dominatrix?" That made me laugh.

"Hardly."

"Yes, quite." I ripped my hand free to slap my forehead. The combination of the sting of my hit and the euphoria from his movements caused me to tremble. I was tighter than I'd been, but his joke still remained stupid.

"That's not what I meant." I chose to ignore his remark. Time was of the essence. One more progression and I'd be done for. "Vincent said not to leave you th-thir-thirs-tyyy." I grit my teeth. "Wait! Not yet, please!" I begged. "I don't want to c-c-c-"

He paused, and I sighed, shaking. "I'm listening. Where were you going with that?"

I leered at him, my eyes alight with deviance. "Care for a drink?" He tilted his head back, bucking his hips. It clearly gratified him.

"I would be honoured." He bit me, and it shot a venomous, electrical stike through my very core. Blood spilled down my neck, and I clamped my legs around him, losing my composure once and for all. He shuddered at the same time, and when he rose back up, the way he smiled -rows of once flawless ivory glistening sanguine in the viridecent light- revealed to me a hidden, unprecedentedly rapturous understanding of the famous French term for a total, satiaing release. I died in his arms, and he in mine, or, in rather in me. I oftentimes find myself reminiscing about that day and laugh at the fact I still find such an off-color joke so funny. I suppose I was more uncouth than I'd once thought.

I would have laughed the first time I'd so brilliantly concocted it if I hadn't been dissuaded by a knock on the door.

"Valerieeeeee, my love! Can you help me with my homework?"

"Get lost, Vincent!" I pulled the monster in my arms down as he tried to leave, somewhat self-consious upon being intuded upon by an old friend. I whispered to him. "I'm not done yet." I shouted back at the same old friend. He was my ally, too. "Come back later!"

I heard a cackle. "HAVE FUN, YOU TWO!" I also picked up on what was clearly a high-five. "See, lads? Call me Cupid." Diedrich's accent made me snicker.

"If you vwer Kewpit, Vincent, zen why did you negleckt to pick up your arrows? Zey're still inzide.*"

"Shut up, Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel. The world hardly needs another German cynic."

"Woah, mate. Miss me with that nerd shit." Vincent's laugh drowned out any addional adoclescent rambling and inappropriate references to Ebonics passed off as "memes" that either of us could catch.

I shrugged as I drew him back to me.

___________________

Days passed, then months, years and decades. We introduced Vincent to our world, and I never told him who or what I really was. Adrian Crevan, or Undertaker -the man I loved- and his title within the society was sufficient cover for both of us.

I was afraid to tell him. I was ashamed, and eventually it worked against me. I couldn't predict what befell him, his family or his son, but I easily understood one truth. It was self-evident.

There were other forces like me, like Undertaker, and if Ciel Phantomhive couldn't find out what happened to his father, I sure as HELL would.

The best part? I know where to start. His new employee is far too talented to be human.

___________________

A/N: Okay! I hope that was entertaining enough! I wanted to develop something of a story before diving into the smutty part. I feel like I've gotten increasingly sheepish about writing that stuff, even though I started out pretty brazenly with my coverage of it. I mean, I wrote a portion of this in French for chirssake, all because I was embarrassed to jot it down in plain ol' English. Ah, oh well. I guess that's why they call it a romance language. Shit sounded sexier to me, a non-native speaker. For a Frenchman, eh, prolly not. Even so, in part due to my connoisseur way of transcribing this sexual encounter, it might be possible, at least in my own work, that I've created a "classier" way of depicting sex in general. hahahaha if there is one. I also hope I was able to at least ease into their relationship. I didn't want to rush it, but I also didn't want to make it way too long. So, all in all, this is what I got.

I actually was never the biggest fan of Undertaker. I didn't ever dislike him, he just wasn't as interesting as some of the other characters. Still, people adore him, so I can't really say much about it. xD I hope I pained a desirable picture of him here!

Some footnotes:
(You may have to go back and find the little asterisks if certain parts didn't strike you as super odd and/or didn't stand out among the other strange and bizarre things inevitably present in a story about Undertaker).
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*A clear example one of Valerie's blunt, crass jokes.
*I apologise for my potentially dishonourable portrayal of the accents of the German people.
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Thanks again to nobilisira for requesting this! It was a blast to write. Let me know if you ever need or want anything else! Same goes for anyone else who wants to hit me up for miscellaneous weeb trash!

{Also if anyone wants me to translate any part of this, though I tried to make it pretty clear in context what I meant, don't be afraid to ask!}

❤️🌹 Je t'aime! 🌹❤️
~ Britt