I'm Officially Screwed

Chapter 1: Something shouta this way comes…

"I don't want to!"

"But Master…"

"I said I don't want to, Sebastian!" I crossed my arms in a manner of defiance. Sebastian tutted and reached again for my coat.

"Master, if you do want to heal, you'll have to take off the bloody coat," He reached again for it. I slapped his hand out of my reach.

"I'm perfectly fine, and am not a bloody child! This coat is just fine!" I yelled. Sebastian sighed again. With amazing force he pinned my head to the wall and began sliding off the blood-soaked coat, despite my flailing arms. Once the coat was off he tossed it over his shoulder and began walking out the door, stopping to talk over his shoulder.

"Now that wasn't so hard, now was it?" He smiled and expertly dodged the flying silverware I threw at him. I huffed in annoyance once he left. My arm still hurt, even though it was bandaged. Leave it to me to somehow get a cat, of all things, to scratch the living hell out of me when I'm not looking. Stupid creatures, really. I don't get at all how Sebastian likes them.

"Bloody cat," I said to myself, sitting on my bed. I was feeling rather exaughsted, so I laid my head down, and went to sleep for the first time in many nights.

Stevie P.O.V.

"Holy shiiiiit!" I screamed, running away from the monster. How had I gotten myself into this mess anyway?

"Come on, it won't hurt you, Stevie!" The monster yelled. I shook my head and backed against a wall.

"Yes, yes it will!"

"No, no it won't!"

"Will too!"

"Will not!"




"Too! Ah, dammit!" He yelled, tossing the monster aside. It fluttered down like a butterfly, the soft fabric trying to fool me with images of comfort. I grimaced.

"Stevie Johnstantine, I swear, by the Phantomhive's graves, you have to wear one of these sometime!" He yelled once more. I shook my head.

"Not in a million years, goddammit! Now let me go, I have to get back to the machine!" I tried to get around him, but he blocked the way. I looked up to his fire-engine red hair, green eyes, and cute freckles. I always told him he looked like Annie.

"You aren't going anywhere until you wear this!" He held up the dress one more time. I sighed, taking it from him.

"The only reason I'd use this is to wipe the grease off of my face when I'm done working, now move it!" I flung it over his head, blinding him, and calmly stepped around him to my machine. Ah, my machine. The most beautiful thing to ever grace this Earth, now if only I could fix her.

She was a 1964 Ford Fairlane, baby blue with a touch of white here and there. She was my baby, and I treasured her like there was no tomorrow. She needed a bit of touch-up work, though. Her engine was a disaster, kept coughing up fumes and whatnot. I was trying to fix that. Going pretty good, too, just needed a no-dress zone…

"Derek, if you're going to keep standing there, hand me that wrench will you?" I held out my hand, not looking at him. I felt the wrench drop into my palm, so I cranked it around the pipes and engine parts until it looked okay.

I stood up, meeting a chest to my back. Derek stood behind me, not moving.

"Derek…" I started, a vein threatening to twitch. Derek's hands were on my shoulders now.

"Yes?" He answered, whispering in my ear. I picked up my wrench and slammed it into his gut, turning around to face him.

"Didn't I already say not to touch me there you pervert! How many times must I tell you, there is nothing going on between us!" I looked down to Derek, who still had stars in his eyes, and a blush on his cheeks.

"You're still in the denial stage, how cute…" He said dreamily. I huffed and ignored him. Making my way over to my workbench, I picked up my recorder and started to say my 'diagnosis'.

"April 5, 2012, The Ford Fairlane had a slight malfunction today, so I tuned up the alternator and fixed the bug on the distributor cap. I think that'll do it for now, but I may have problems later on tomorrow. Logging off,"

I set the recorder back on its stand and turned to Derek, who was smiling sheepishly. I sighed and walked away. He had the biggest crush on me since the first grade, and I felt lucky and admired, of course, but I couldn't ever date him. Yes, he was hot, but he didn't have that special feeling, like that spark the drives the entire car.

I lived alone, other than the occasional visits from Derek. My parents were okay, of course, I just chose to live in a different area once I heard that they might let me. I was kind of a loner person. Some people were just like that.

I slammed the hood down and walked out of the garage, seeking immediate lemonade and cookies. I walked throughout my house, locating the kitchen and smell of cookies from two rooms away. Ah. Cookies.

"!" I yelled, making a dash for them. Even with my short, scrawny legs, I still could run like hell when need be. It was a gift.

The cookies were my favorite, snickerdoodle with extra cinnamon. If you didn't put the extra cinnamon on there, it would be like a plain cake, sure it tastes okay, but without the frosting, the stuff is just plain boring. Bleh.

I pocketed my wrench on my tool belt, fixed my black pig-tailed hair, and adjusted my goggles to on top of my head. I took out my random stopwatch. In three…two…one…

"Done!" I yelled as I finished the bowl of cookies in one gulp. I looked over to Derek, who was sweatdropping.

"Th-That's scary…" He said. I held up my hands in a peace sign.

"Don't be a hater!" I said. He shrugged and went to get a cookie for himself. I playfully slapped his hand away, letting him get one in the end.

Now, this is where things get interesting. Just read a little further, and see what happened to me due to my amazing lack of attention…

If I had paid a little more attention, I might have been able to dodge the criss-cross-Celtic-circle-thingy forming below my feet. Derek didn't notice it either. I might have been able to move out of the way in time, but sadly, cookies were more important than the thing below my feet. I might have taken to fact how everything was glowing red, or just how slightly odd it was that the last thing I heard was this:

"Do you want to make a contract?"


Let me give you some advice: When you get transported to another point in space and time and you don't know where the hell you are, you're probably in the freakin' Phantomhive Mansion. And I only know that because there's a giant door in front of me saying:


This was some seriously creepy shit.

My wide blue eyes observed the giant door, noticing the sign posted just below the previous one:


I sweat dropped as I tried to get up. My legs were shaky, but they would hold nonetheless. That was always a good thing.

"Wh-Where the hell…?" I said. I looked down to see the same exact circle that appeared beneath my feet back home. Learning a lesson this time, I shrieked and jumped out of it, my boots landing on the hard pebblestone.

"Sebastian! I told you this wouldn't work!" My head whipped around at hearing a British accent. A very proper British accent, at that.

"My lord, she did get here, didn't she?" Another proper accent spoke. I observed the two cloaked figures talking, probably about me.

"But she's not a demon! Look at her; she's just a tiny human twit!" The smaller cloaked figure pointed at me. I felt a vein pop in rage. I was not THAT tiny!

"Speak for yourself, shrimp!" I yelled, walking over to the small person. They turned towards me.

"Okay, so she's a loud tiny human twit. Sebastian!" The figure ignored me and turned towards the larger one. I was about to repeat my comment, when I noticed that even the smaller of the two people was taller than me. I kept my mouth shut. That would have been embarrassing.

"My lord, appearance has nothing to do with anything. I don't look like a demon, now do I?" He motioned over himself. The smaller figure grunted in rage.

"You have red eyes for heaven's sake! She's just got strange clothes, that's all!" He plucked at my shirt for emphasis. I slapped his hand away.

"I am standing right here, I'll have you know," I said loudly, reaching over to rip the hood off the smaller figure. I definitely didn't expect what I saw though.

I was standing face-to-face with a boy, black hair, blue eyes, just like me. Except, his eyes were a midnight blue, where as mine were like a robin's egg. He had the softest looking skin on this side of the Earth, with an eye patch over one eye. He looked utterly adorable.

The other man took off his hood without my help. I looked towards him, seeing the previously mentioned red eyes, black hair, and tall physique, I must say, the sexiest butler-person alive. I sweat-dropped again.

"What is your name?" The little boy asked. I turned towards him, glaring.

"Yours first,"

"No, yours,"

"Age before beauty,"

"Who's the beauty?"

He looked around mockingly. I growled and looked away. Tiny human twit my ass. Who was he to talk?

"The name's Stevie," I said. I felt a finger lightly tap my shoulder. I turned to see sexy-butler-dude.

"Last name, too, I can be a very impatient man," He smiled like it was the nicest thing in the world. I shuddered and gulped.

"J-Johnstantine, Stevie Johnstantine," I took a couple of steps backwards, for good measure. No one said anything for a while. The butler (I guessed) raised one eyebrow, and the kid's eyes were open as far as could be.

"J-Johnstantine! The Johnstantine?" He pointed his cane at me. I nodded swiftly.

The little boy stomped over to me, glaring with all the rage midnight blue could offer. Turns out, that's a lot.

Why was my name so important? Phantomhive didn't exactly sound familiar…wait…wait…oh crap… it did.

The Phantomhive family. The prestigious Phantomhive family, that competed with mine years and years back. They were brutally murdered in the stocks-wise area by our company, until they made a comeback some two-years later. After that, a long rivalry was born.

I'm officially screwed.

"Argh! You Johnstantine brat! Why did you have to come here?" He yelled, still poking that cane at me. I glared, pushing it out of the way.

"Excuse me, but this brat doesn't know the answer to your question. I want to know how I got here too! Don't try to sick the blame on me!" I stood up, poking his chest. He glared even harder. I returned that look ten times more.

The butler-dude stepped in before I pummeled the kid. Holding him back, he smiled 'pleasantly' at me again. I felt a chill down my back.

"Won't you please come for some tea?"


I had to stop myself from gawking. The house, like expected, was just as big on the outside as on the inside. Duh. But it still gave off a lonely feel, kind of like it wanted another person there. I felt slightly proud at that matter as I marched through the halls.

"Excuse me, miss, the parlor room is this way," The butler pointed to the left, opposite my right. Oops.

"O-Of course it is!" I said, walking in the direction. Simultaneously, the butler and kid rose an eyebrow and smirked. I shivered. Their aura practically screamed, 'Don't-touch-me-or-I'll-whip-some-fancy-English-tea-on-your-ass,' I shivered again. I think it was the kid that scared me the most.

I walked to the parlor room, which looked more like an office to me. Maybe they were repurposing it. The boy sat down in his fancy chair, a huge brown leather chair. He motioned to the identical one across from it. I sat down, seeing a table, with one hell of a freaky board game on it. "Your body is burned by raging flames," Seriously?

Butler-dude spoke to the boy, "Master Ciel, might I suggest…"

Ciel nodded. He got up from his chair, walking over to me. With one finger, he slowly lifted up his eye patch, and with the other finger, gently drew it across my right eye.

"Sit down. We're going to play a game, Stevie. If you win, you get whatever you want, if I win, you're going to be one hell of a maid,"

Author's note! Author's note! Okay, this is my second story, so tell me if I got anything wrong, since I haven't seen black butler in forever! Also, I will not update unless I get at least one review! So, I say, beware the button! Beware the button!

Beware it!