A Demon's Heart (Sebastianxreader)

1

"Whatever you do, do not come out." Your dad commanded, his voice daunting.

You nodded your head silently. You had not even the slightest idea as to whatever the hell was going on but your father had made his point clear. Be quiet, and remain in the wardrobe. Your sister beside you was shaking uncontrollably for some odd reason, tears glossing her eyes. Focusing your eyes on the direction you thought your father had gone, you readied your abilities. Clairvoyance. Your sight went passed that of the wardrobe's interior and into the main room of the house. There you saw the limp body of a woman by the door and your father struggling to stand upright. There were probably around seven figures in the room, all dressed in dark robes and holding daggers in their hands. The last thing you saw before your sight returned to normal was your father's throat being slit.

You sat up with a jolt. Your shirt is damp with sweat and your throat was tight. It was the same nightmare you had been having every night for the past seven years. Reliving the night you watched your parents die by the hands of the organization you now worked for. Technically, you were forced to work for. They had kept your younger sister alive for the use of blackmailing you to use your 'gifts' to do their dirty work. If you refused their orders, they had made it understandable that your sister would be tortured to the point of death with you watching in constraints. Every life you had taken was for the life of your sister.

By your bed, on a coat hook hung your assassin uniform. Focusing intensely on it and repeating the command, come, in your mind the robe flung towards your waiting hands. Yes, you were both a clairvoyant and a telekinetic. These supernatural powers were the whole reason you had to kill numerous amounts of people every month. Walking into the bathroom connected to your small living space, you fixed your (h/l) (h/c) hair and changed into the uniform. A shrill ringing sounded from the nightstand by your bed. With your daggers at your sides, you picked up the landline.

"(y/n) (l/n)." Slight static interfered your monotonous voice.

"Your needed at a meeting. Your next mission has been decided."

"Yes director." You hissed, biting your lip to halt any upcoming, snide comments.

Making your way out the door, you did your best to crush any smouldering embers of rebellion you had left. Travelling through the maze of corridors you made your way to the basement, where all secret meetings were held. Upon entering, you saw three fellow assassins and your director conversing around a circular table. He was clad in black with his dark hair slicked back. His brown eyes glinted upon your arrival.

"Have a seat." He smirked.

Doing as told, you strode across the room and plopped into a seat across from him. The farthest you could be while still following instructions. He cleared his throat and began speaking.

"Your next mission will take place tomorrow, and you will most likely be met with some difficulty." He warned.

"It's killing someone, how hard can that be?" You retaliated. You may hate your current occupation, but you'd at least like to be proven worth doing it.

"Yes, I see. Anyways, your next assassination will be that of the Phantomhive name. Ciel Phantomhive. Get into his manor and kill him without detection." With those orders, he excused you and returned to drinking with the others.

He's so drunk he's sending me on a suicide mission.