Black Butler Reaper Novels & Stories

“I give up, as I am tired.” He pleaded with his shivering hand as he still tries to reach for it and towards the reaper he believes and in presence to take his soul into hell. To the silence and dim-like shadows of the selected parts of the room where the full moon is shining and giving its light as it is reflected through the glass walls. Footsteps echoes as the silhouette of the reaper he claims finally introduces. To the light of the moon and the claim reaper, he calls pave its very image in front of him. His blurry vision from his left-right eye, picture out the distinctive black color of eyes that pins the death reaper in every aspect. His whisper towards him echoes.

Like hoppy. The girl wheezed, tried to crawl away, but the bonds held tightly, and her back rested against a tree trunk. Only a few steps separated the victim from the undead. The stench emanating from the Walker became unbearable. The ugly face of a ghoul with traces of earth on rotting skin was distorted by greed. Blue lips stretched out, revealing strong teeth. Someone's husband or father will bite her to death. Someone who loved, suffered, lived, but died and... was reborn into this .

He has a solid jawline, clean-shaven face, thinner cheeks with just the right amount of plumpness, dimples that would take any normal woman’s breath away, beautiful bright brown eyes with flecks of gold, a tall leanly-muscled build, and short dark brown hair that is always neatly combed to one side, but tufts at the top in a cute way. I give him a polite nod that contradicts the rude way that I shove past him to step inside. I wordlessly pass him the name and photo of my target that came with the job posting, fixing him with an intense emerald-green gaze. He already knows the drill and I’m not one for pleasantries or small talk. He gives a low chuckle at my straight-to-business attitude, “al

Silas watched me and then followed me curiously. "So you're really a grim reaper?" He asked with interest. "Oh yeah!" I told him and looked at him. "I got kicked out though and stole these from a reaper," I pointed to the glasses. "Without these all reapers can't see." He looked at them with interest. "Really?" He asked and then laughed. "So like Black Butler?" "Yeah," I told him and looked at him. "Very much like Black Butler, except we actually have scythes and blades instead of lawn mowers and other outside equipment for a lawn." He laughed and then smiled hugely.

A Reaper stepped through the portal opening. Tall, with ebony hair, he wore the long black cloak she expected to see, a scythe in his hand. The man quickly ran to the left of the portal, and then another Reaper appeared on his heels. Dressed identically, with the same weapon, he ran to the right. Then, another sprang forth, and another. Ru watched, her eyes wide as the Reapers continued to pour out of the portal, as if Hell had spilled an inkwell and the thick, black substance was covering the entire earth.

An anxious voice came from the other end of the phone. Ashley froze for a moment, there would be no one who could call her that, except for people from Morgan Blackstorm's side. It seemed that Morgan Blackstorm needed her on call again. "Madam, you should come back quickly, Mr. Blackstorm is ill!" Butler Ron said anxiously without waiting for Ashley to respond. "Ill?" The corners of Ashley's mouth twitched, she really wanted to say, there was a doctor and a servant, why did he ask her to go back?

he hissed, turning toward the presence. The shadow stepped forward. Pale skin like porcelain, eyes blacker than night itself, and a presence that made the air feel too heavy to breathe. “I am what waits at the end of your kind,” the figure said, voice deep and hollow. “You were given years you did not deserve, Clark.” “What the f*ck are you talking about?!” Clark spat, backing away. “Get out of here—this is none of your business!” The Reaper tilted his head. “You stole her breath. Now, I take yours.”

CATALINA I drew closer, pushing the door a tad bit so the gap could get bigger. From behind, squatting down a little, I watched as the reaper flaunted every figure skating skill I knew with a type of creative mastery I had never seen before. It was like staring at a black swan or a dark Angel; cynical, evil and yet still so beautiful. I dared not interrupt him, I could never. I bet even Charles doesn't know that the reaper has this side of him.

Black handle, black blade, and engraved along the spine, clean and precise, S. I hold it up and examine it. "This is my name," I say. He stares at me. "This is literally my name. It says S. S for Sadism. I'm the Grim Reaper." I turn the blade in the light. "This is clearly mine. Where's the phone?" "My brother has it." Through his teeth. "He took it. I don't have it. Stop. Touching." Each word arriving separately, with effort. "My. Tail." He makes a sound that is half fury and half something he's trying to keep below the surface, and his tail catches my wrist on the backswing.

The hiss of the draining pod was the loudest sound Sela had ever heard. It filled the small, cold room, drowning out the frantic beat of her own heart. The clear liquid swirled down, revealing the body of the Reaper inch by inch. He was tall, with short-cropped hair and a face that was all sharp angles, even in sleep. He wore the simple grey tunic and trousers of the Citadel, now plastered to his skin by the fluid. His eyelids fluttered.