#never in my life have i been so infatuated with a singer - she has me in a chokehold
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I only have eyes for you
Human alastor x black! jazz singer
Sumarry: Before alastor ended up in hell in his human life, he fell in love with this jazz singer, and he fell deeply in love with her before he died and ended up in hell.
● Alastor was very infatuated by you when he first heard you sing on the radio. He loved your voice so soft and soothing. He is a big fan of you and your work.
● You were a famous jazz singer in New Orleans, Louisiana. You were the life of the party. Everybody wanted to be you. Men wanted you. You were eye candy in your day. Alastor heard about you, the streets of Louisiana were talking you about you so he was interested in you.
● Alastor has been to one of your shows before just to watch you sing in person. He thought you were so beautiful and elegant. your glossy red lipstick made you look stunning, I mean, his favorite color is red~. He wanted to smear it off and kiss you hungrily as he marks you and your body, your tight red dress that hugs your curves perfectly.
●"She's really good, isn't she? She's got a voice of an angel." Some random man told Alastor as he drinks his champagne but still was looking at you.
● "She is quite a gal, pure talent and beauty." Alastor smiles as he looks at you up on the stage, which caught your attention as you wink at him, making him stare at you in awe, he only had eyes for you.
● There have been women who wanted alastor's attention. I mean, he is the most famous radio host in New Orleans, but no one knows his sinister side... oh, how dumb these people were. A lot of women wanted his attention. None of them stood out to him until he saw you, on his radio shows he would play your music and can't help but sing to it and enjoy your voice, he truly had his eyes set on you.
● Everyone applauded your performance as every cheered, threw roses at you, as you smile and blow kisses to the people in the audience, as you left the stage.
● You were off the stage as you were going to the bar for a drink, he had to talk you he was infatuated by you. Alastor got up as he walked with confidence as the charming man he is.
● "My,my, my, that was a lovely performance, quite the show." Alastor lightly grabbed your hand as he kissed your knuckles, making you flustered. "Why, thank you, alastor, I'm also a big fan of you to as well. I love listening to you on the radio. You really know how to catch people's attention." You said to the alastor as you drink, you champagne, as his ego was boosted by your compliment. "Why thank you, mon Cher, it's nice like a lovely famous star noticing me." Alastor said as he took a sip of his liquor.
● I've always been a big fan of you and your charm it's quite sexy. No wonder why the ladies like you." You winked at alastor flirting with him, as he felt his dick twitch, alastor is a gentleman he doesn't think about things or feel such thing around other women, but you were a different story.
● You and the alastor clicked instantly. You laughed, drinked, and danced all night long. He was truly in love with you, and you were in love with him. Then, later on, you Two became an actual couple, which caught a lot of attention. I mean y/n the most famous jazz singer with alastor the most charming famous radio host of course people were gonna talk.
● Some women still flirted with alastor knowing he was with you, alastor love how cute you were seeing you angry but obviously he would never put you against another women for his love he'll never be unfaithful towards you he is of course a gentleman.
● Alastor would stop by your performances hearing you sing as he would smile at you and would smile back... he was truly your biggest fan.
● You would stop by at his job bringing him coffee, as you listen and watch him doing his job, and you would join and sing for the whole world to hear, and he would join in.
● Alastor had admitted that he is a serial killer. At first, you were surprised, but you didn't care. You loved him, whether he killed or not, and you still loved him, and that will never change.
● Alastor loved flauting you around to other people showing them you belonged to him and only him, being the egotistical bastard he is he would boast and brag about having you and being cocky towards men who wanted you but can't because you were with him
● Your sex life in the bed is amazing he made you fulfilled again, and again, and again until your screaming his name.
● Alastor has a blood kink he loves biting you and sees blood drip as he sucks it he loves to see you in pain as he hears your cries. The pain he inflicts your heat, which pushes you towards the edge. He loved to see you squirm and whine he finds quite adorable.
● Alastor loves marking your body. He marks you everywhere, but he loves marking you on your neck so people can notice his "masterpiece." You would panick, not wanting people to notice the mark, but Alastor finds it amusing and would kiss the marks on your body. "Don't shy away, dear. These marks show who you belong to, and you look quite ravishing." Alastor gives his charming smile, making you melt.
● He finds joy in pleasuring you the way you moan in pleasure. He loves being in control he let's you be in control time from time, but He's the one mostly in control it shows how powerful he is, and he most likely claims you.
● He is really skilled with his tongue, very skilled making you cum atleast 3 or 4 times. You would pull his hair in between your thighs, screaming loudly. He's very animalistic, but he's a gentleman. He's really caring after sex, an aftercare God.
● Period blood doesn't faze him he has no issue eating you out when you're on the time of the month while you're bleeding. He enjoys it since he's a cannibal, the blood entices him making him cum before you as he groans.
● He doesn't really moan, but he will groan and stutter sweet things in your ear and some deep groans.
He truly loves you he only had eyed for you, his darling doe.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x black!reader#Spotify#x black reader#Hazbin hotel x black!reader#alastor smut
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@daily-writing-challenge - May 2024 - Day 4 - Drama
The Banshee’s Wail
TW: Dementia, infidelity, violence
A woman’s voice screeched through Nahilvi’s comm, hidden under her hair, you could hide an entire engineering shop there with as full as the ombré curls were. “You PERVERT! You stay away from me! My daughter will be home any minute!”
It was the last day of the Hearts Of Tenacity fest and Nahi was kicked back around the fire sharing snacks with Pheonix, a woman she just met, while wearing her jeans, boots and Starstriders tee. One last night of freedom, then she would go back to the chaos of her family life, that was all she had been hoping for, one last night.
Scrambling to her feet, she apologized to the people around her who could hear the screaming, it had been so loud, and ran away from the circle. She stopped behind a tree and clicked the small device. “Mother… what in the Fel is going on?”
“There is a MAN here who tried to climb into my bed.”
Before she could respond another voice came from the shared family channel. “Hey Nahi, sorry, she has been so good all weekend.”
The singer ran three fingers up the center of her forehead then down to the bridge of her nose and kept her voice calm, “Mother… that is your husband Irenthalas. You have been married for years now.”
“No! I don’t KNOW him.” The pitch of the wail was so high only a trained singer could project it. Her mother had been an opera singer for hundreds of years, she had perfected it.
Well there went the last night of the festival and she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to the new people she met. “I will be there in a minute, Iren.” It would do no good to address her mother, she was in one of her lapses. The dark skinned performer reached into her pack and pulled out her hearthstone, setting it for their home in Dalaran.
In the time it had taken for that simple action, Nahi could hear something shatter upstairs. The stairs were traversed three at a time with her long strides and she slid into the doorway to take in the chaos. Irenthalas was on the floor, blood streaming from his head, there was shattered porcelain in a blue and white pattern around him and her mother was lifting a lamp like she was going to throw it. “Mother stop!”
“Call the guards! Where is the one posted at my door? Our Prince would never leave me unguarded! Did this man kill him?”
Alright, this was one of her bad episodes. Nahilvi’s mother had been a singer in Kael’thas’ court for a long time, one of the favored entertainers that only performed in the main throne room. When the keep was attacked, she had fallen after taking a blow to the head. Nahi had picked up a sword to protect them but luckily the invader’s were focused on Prince Sunstrider by that time and it had allowed Irenthalas to get to them.
He had secretly been infatuated with Acenadalia for decades, but he was a lowly priest and her mother was married to Viscount Preado Sunburst, the ennobled bastard that her mother had found in her dressing room getting head from two of the Summershade triplets while suckling the third’s breast. Of course that wasn’t the first time he had been caught with his pants down, but it had been the latest.
Iren had helped get them clear before the keep was locked down completely, taking the women to his familial home in Dalaran. He treated her mother but the damage that had been done had left her permanently impaired. She had taken a glancing blow to the temple from an invader’s mace, the skull fracture and cuts healed well, but when Acenadalia woke it was clear she was not in her right mind.After it was clear that Nahi’s father had not made it out, Iren and her mother were wed.
With more work the lucid times outweighed the spells when her memory lapsed, but her mother had to be watched all the time. The last time she had not she walked right into the Alliance alcove in the city and demanded that she be taken to Kael’thas immediately along with no few ‘don’t you know who I am’s’ thrown in for good measure,
“Iren?” Nahilvi questioned while keeping an eye on her mother as sometimes she wasn’t recognized either.
The man’s deep voice sounded exhausted, “I’m alright, she just threw a teapot at my head. I never liked that set anyway.”
“Wasn’t that your grandmother twice removed’s set?”
“Yes, but family lore said she was a harridan.”
Nahi wanted to laugh but was expecting a lamp to be hurled at her or her step-father at any moment. “Mother, it is alright I am here now.”
“He crawled into my BED!”
The shrillness of her mother’s voice caused daggers of pain to embed themselves in Nahi’s head, “I am here now, you are safe, put down the lamp.”
“MY BED!”
“MOTHER!” Nahilvi yelled, she hated doing that most of all, “I am here, we will get everything sorted, put down the lamp.
Acenadalia’s gold eyes snapped to her daughter and narrowed, then they opened wide, “Nahi? When did you get home? Did you enjoy your festival? Did they like my song? I bet they did, you have such a lovely voice. Iren? Why are you on the floor? Did you fall?” She set the lamp back down and crawled into her huge bed, “Come to bed dear, I am sure our daughter would like a bath and settle in for the night.”
Just like that, all the drama ended and they were all one big happy family again. Her mother hadn’t been wrong, she did want a bath and bed, but that bath was going to be accompanied by a bottle of brandy. “Sleep well mother, Iren. I love you.”
(Minor mention of #pheonix)
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julien baker lyrics that make my heart ache
#julien baker#julienbakeredit#never in my life have i been so infatuated with a singer - she has me in a chokehold#i had to stop myself from including the entirety of turn out the lights#also#i wanted 'do i get callous or do i stay tender' here but i couldn't find nice enough footage of relative fiction :(#my gifs
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the first time in a long time ~ eminem
word count: 1185
request?: yes!
@eminemsorangejuice “Hey love! Your Eminem fics are amazing. Could I request that the reader is a singer and dating Eminem. And he is doing a interview for his album, and actually ends up opening up about his relationship with the reader, admitting that he’s happy with someone for a change.
Take your time if you need. Thank you so much! 🤍”
description: in which he’s open about his relationship for the first time and he tells the world how happy he is
pairing: eminem x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two)
“I know you’re not overly public about your home life and relationship status and shit,” Crooked said, “but I did want to mention your relationship with the singer (Y/F/N).”
Marshall nodded, trying to hold back the smile that would involuntarily come on his face whenever he thought about (Y/N).
“This is the first time you’ve been public with a relationship since your marriage to Kim,” Crooked continued. “And we all know how that was, so to hear you writing songs about her in a more romantic way than you did with Kim, and for her to be featured on a few of those songs, it’s a surprise to a lot of your fans.”
“I don’t know if fans were surprised, but they were definitely pissed when I write stuff like that,” Marshall said. “I remember when I released Revival and I have that song on there, Remind Me, with the Joan Jett sample, it’s not a serious love song. The shit I say on there, it’s not all how I actually feel about (Y/N), but there are some lines on there like how she’s just as nasty as I am, same sense of humor, and I do think she has an incredible body. But people heard that song and they were so pissed that I had wrote a love song, even though it wasn’t an actual love song.”
“You’ve written songs like that before, though. So Bad from Recovery comes to my mind.”
“Yeah, but that was when I was single. Now, I’m publicly in this relationship and people are like oh, he’s so whipped, he’s writing songs about his girlfriend.”
“They’re acting like it’s the worst shit you’ve ever done.”
“Yeah man. That’s why I started writing twisted love songs for Kamikaze and Music To Be Murdered By. Like Normal, and Farewell. It just became a joke between me and (Y/N) that I write these awful love songs, and the worse the relationship is in the song, the more I’m actually talking about how happy I am with her and how much I do love her.”
Crooked was giving Marshall a knowing smile. Marshall turned his chair so he was facing away from the camera as the smile on his own face won out over his serious persona.
There were few people who got to see this real side of Marshall. The side that was completely infatuated with his girlfriend to a point where he was so open about his happiness with her. When it came to being in public, (Y/N) was aware of this stone cold persona that Marshall liked to have, so she never pushed for him to be lovey dovey in public with her or anything. Not that she’d want that, anyways, given she also liked to have some things kept private between them.
Crooked was one of the few people who got to see Marshall like this. He considered Crooked a close friend, as he did with most of the former Slaughterhouse crew. It was one of the reasons why Marshall went to Crooked first when he released Music To Be Murdered By for an interview, the way he had gone to Sway for Kamikaze. He knew Crooked would respect him and not ask him certain prying questions that other interviewers would.
He took Crooked by surprise when he sat down across from him and said, “You can ask about (Y/N) if you want.”
“Are you sure, man?” Crooked had asked. “I know that’s a private subject. I don’t want you to get into it if you’re not okay with it.”
Marshall had shrugged in response. “I trust you with whatever you’d want to say. I know you’re not about to ask me what she’s like in the bedroom or anything.”
“People don’t want to see that side of Eminem,” Crooked was saying, bringing Marshall back into his more serious persona. “They want to see you angry and lashing out at your potential partner.”
“They want to see me lashing out at everyone, man,” Marshall said. “They don’t want a positive song, they don’t want me making amends with Kim or my mom or any number of people I’ve hurt in my past. The way I always look at it is they don’t want Marshall to make music, they want Shady, and anything made by Marshall is immediately written off as being shit.”
“They don’t want to see you happy, but the real question here is are you happy, man?”
He couldn’t stop the smile on his face. He decided not to turn away from the camera this time. Why not let the world see just how happy he actually was for once?
“I am,” he responded. “For the first time in a long time, I can confidently say I’m happy in a relationship with someone.”
Crooked smiled back at him. “That’s great man, I’m happy for you. You and (Y/N) seem perfect for one another.”
“Thanks man. We’ve always clicked together from the moment we met. I knew the second I laid my eyes on her that I wanted to be with her. I’m so lucky that she wanted to be with me, too.”
Marshall was slightly grateful when Crooked decided to move on with the interview. As much as he wanted to talk about (Y/N), he was starting to feel much more vulnerable than he wanted to be. He wanted to maintain some of his street cred.
When the interview was over, Crooked thanked him again for being a guest on the show, and Marshall thanked him for having him on.
Marshall was glad he wasn’t the sort of artist who had to do numerous interviews a day whenever he released something anymore. The hour he had spent with Crooked was more than enough worktime for him, and now he was ready to get home to (Y/N).
She was laid back on the couch when he got home, waiting for him. Her eyes drifted from the TV to him when she heard the door open and close, and a smile broke out across her face.
“Hey,” she said. “How was the interview?”
He crossed the room to sit down with her, positioning her head so it could be on his lap. He ran his fingers through her hair, twirling some strands around his fingers. She smiled softly and leaned into his touch.
“It was good,” he responded. “I told Crooked he could ask me about you if he wanted.”
“Did he?”
Marshall nodded. “I guess it’s too late to ask, but that’s okay, right?”
(Y/N) giggled. “Of course it’s okay. If you’re comfortable talking about it, you know I am.”
Marshall smiled down at her. “You make me really happy, you know.”
“Of course I know. And you make me happy, too.”
She lifted herself up enough to place a sweet kiss on Marshall’s lips. He put his hand against the back of her head, holding her in place. He didn’t want the moment to end any time soon. He wanted to have this with her forever.
#eminem#eminem imagine#eminem x reader#marshall mathers#marshall mathers imagine#marshall mathers x reader#imagine#one shot#request#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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Not going anywhere | Lucifer Morningstar x reader
Fandom: Lucifer
Request:” Hi i have request for you ,Lucifer and the reader have a big fight they are married, and this fight it's lucifer fault The reader leaves home and Lucifer decides to give her space After a few days, he goes to the reader and realizes that she has been missing for a few days,When the person behind all this claims that the reader is dead and gives them a her body . Everyone thinks that the reader is dead and Lucifer He gets depressed and thinks it's all his fault , and after a few days, the thieves release the singer and the reader goes to Lucifer.Lucifer first thinks it is an imagination and then apologizes to the reader Thank you so much”
Genre: Angst with happy ending
Warnings: kidnapping, death
~~~
Your intention had never been to start a fight. All you wanted an explanation (preferably one that also made sense) and an apology, but apparently that was too much to ask, because as soon as you voiced your opinion, Lucifer went up in flames
“Don’t start this again!”
“I dislike it just as much as you do but what I hate more is being cancelled on, AGAIN, through a text message no less!”
“It was an emergency!”
“It’s always an emergency Lucifer! It’s starting to sound a lot like work means more to you than I do!” “The detective needs me, damn it!” your husband yelled
“And she has you! Every day of every week! All I ask for is one date night and for the past month you’ve done nothing but avoid committing to one or backing out at the last second! I’m tired of being your second choice Lucifer! I’m your wife and you are my husband, I love you to the ends of the world, I just wish you'd say no to Decker from time to time...”
“I’m saving people’s lives Y/N. So if you’re not on your deathbed, other people are and they need me now!” as he said this, Lucifer walked right past you and into your bedroom, seemingly ignorant to the painful words he’d just said. You looked around the living room, vision blurry with tears, your chest heavy with anger and disgust. You rushed towards the elevator.
“When you find time in your busy schedule and feel like being my spouse again, let me know!” the elevator door closed before Lucifer could say anything
~~~
When Lucifer woke up the next morning to a cold and empty bed, he didn’t think much of it.Truthfully, he was still kind of pissed at the attitude you had given him a day before, so he got dressed as usual and went to the precinct, assuming you’ll be home by nightfall.
Except when he got home that night, he stopped by Lux first, which ended up like it always does: with him sucked into an endless cycle of booze and dancing, that lasted until well into the night. When he did enter the penthouse eventually, he found it empty. Exactly the way he had left it in the morning. Even the tie he had left on the floor, after deciding last minute that it didn’t go with his suit, was untouched. Now this was curious, but still, Lucifer felt like you must be playing hard to get. He sent you one text message, before going to bed
“Call me when you can!”
The day after that, he figured his part was done! By reaching out first, he had already made a big compromise, so now it was your turn! To reach out, come home! But that didn’t happen that day, or the day after that.
Three days after the text message,Lucifer was getting worried. He was looking at his phone every other minute. Always making sure he hadn’t accidently put it on silent or missed any texts. He sent more messages, telling you he was sorry and that he wanted you to come home. That he would listen and spend more time with you, promising luxurious dates and weekend trips, if only you forgave him. You didn’t even open the messages.
“Lucifer are you listening?” Decker was insanely annoyed at her partner’s lack of concentration
“Sorry detective. I’ve...I’ve got a lot on my mind”
“Well, better get it out of the way now, so that we can move on to our case!” she said, cleaning out her desk quickly, before resting back into her chair “Talk to me!”
“It’s Y/N. I’m worried about her!”
“Why?” “We...had a fight a couple days ago and she left. She hasn’t come back since”
“Have you heard from her at all?”
“No…” Lucifer said, embarrassed at his own lack of care for you. He should have called you earlier, reached out more! He should have tried harder!
“How long had she been missing for?”
“4...maybe 5 days…”
“Lucifer, are you sane? And you’re only telling me now?!” Chloe jumped from her seat, turning on her computer
“I thought she needed space! I thought she was avoiding me intentionally cause she was angry! I didn’t know…” Lucifer choked back a sob, not wanting to break down in tears in the middle of the precinct
“Lucifer!” Chloe caught hold of his hand “I’m gonna find her! I promise you!” A few days later, she did. Well, more like Y/n came to her, in the shape of a pretty little gift box left on Decker's doorstep.
“A lil too late on your case detective” read the note attached to it.
Inside were Y/N’s clothes, all of them stained with dark, dried blood. Y/N was declared dead that day and the case was closed. At her funeral, only her closests friends were present. Lucifer wanted it to be as intimate as possible.
That day was also the first time anyone had seen Lucifer, since the news. His eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under his eyes almost matched the black suit he was wearing. Throughout the ceremony he kept twisting his wedding band, a habit he’d picked up on since you went missing. He chose not to do a speech, but once the crowd disappeared, and he was left face to face with your grave, he pulled out a little piece of paper from his pocket and sat down on the grass.
“In hell, everyone feared me. There, I was nothing but another server of the universe, ruling over an empire I never really wanted, because I never had a choice. So eventually I left, thinking anywhere will be better than what I had, and I came to earth.
I ran into you about 2 weeks later, before I really even knew how to behave myself. Before I knew anything about who I really was besides ‘the devil’. I longed to know, grow and discovers different sides of me, where I could be something new, and you gave it to me. You made me who I never thought I could possibly be. You made me a lover. I never thought of myself as capable to love anyone, in any degree, but your light shone everywhere you went and your kindness touched me and everyone around you. It became impossible to not get infatuated with your person. I allowed you to see and feel around every dark corner of my soul and being and every time I thought it was the end. Everytime I would take in your touch as if it was the last, I would prepare myself for abandonment, but it never came. Through everything you stood by my side and when I felt my darkest, you gave me a fistful of your light and that was enough to keep me going. You married a broken man and called him perfect, despite everyone telling you how much of a foul you were. Even then, you shooed them away. Even then you chose me. I wasn’t worthy of your love or your trust and our last night together proved it.
You’re not here anymore to hear my apologies and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You’ve gone now somewhere I can not follow, but I know you are well taken care of there. I hope, someway, somehow, you’ll hear these words: I am sorry. I loved you with my entire soul. Not listening to you was the biggest mistake of my life and I’ll never forgive myself. I choose however, to remember you as you were, because I know that’s what you’d want. I’ll remember you and your laugh.I’ll remember our date nights and shopping sprees. Nights in Lux or on the penthouse balcony. I’ll remember all the meals you prepared for me and the flirtatious remarks you used to make, because you thought they were so silly. I’ll remember the little frown on your face whenever you worked on an important project for work and I’ll remember every evening walk around the block you’d make me accompany you on. I know I always complained about them, but they were always fun. Everything I ever did with you was always fun.
I loved you. I still do. You are my everything Y/N. Thank you for devoting yourself to me in all the ways that you did. I’ll forever live on in my heart.“
~~~
It had been months since your disappearance. After all this time, you finally managed to escape your kidnappers and report them to the New York police station, since that’s where you had been held hostage for so long. As soon as the paperwork was done and you were sure that the people who ruined you were getting the punishment they deserved, you jumped on a train and headed straight back home. Straight to Lucifer.
Lux looked exactly the same as you had left it. You were washed over by a wave of comfort that almost brought you to tears. Home. You never thought you’d get to step in here again. Overwhelmed, you took a seat on one of the couches, allowing your head to rest back on it, as you took in every detail of your surroundings: the feel of the leather on your fingertips, the cool breeze of the air conditioning, the warm lights. Everything was still here.
“Y/N?” you jumped at the sound
“Hi love…” your voice broke as you said those words. Words you never thought you would be able to mutter again. The sight of your husband, messy as he was, made you weak in the knees. He was standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in nothing but his robe, tied carelessly around his waist. He had probably just woken up. You wanted to say something again, but before you could, he laughed
“Nope” he said simply, before making his way down the stairs and to the bar “I’m not doing this. Not today, not ever!” Lucifer filled his glass to the top with bourbon, before turning around and trying to leave back to where he came from
“Lucifer, it's me!”
“Sure you are, except you’re not real! Nice of dad, taking my ability to stay endlessly sober, getting me drunk, forcing visions of my dead wife onto me to teach me another lesson about managing my emotions. Real clever, except this is too much! So I’m going to enter that elevator and I expect to never have to see you again, hum? Right, well, au revoir now!” he continued on his way, but before he could get far, you were clutching on the silk tie of his robe. Lucifer felt the tug around his waist and turned around slowly to look at you, this time a little more unsure. As if he was trying to figure you out
“Lucifer, I’m Y/N. I escaped”
“Escaped? But that’s impossible, she died! I saw it-”
“What you saw was a bloody shirt!” he looked up to meet your gaze, tears already forming “They lied to you Lucifer”
Finally, it seemed like he had connected all of the pieces of the puzzle. The glass of alcohol fell to the ground and your husband wrapped you in a big hug for the first time in months. He nuzzled his head in your hair and took in your scent, your figure, your warmth. Hell, you were even more perfect that he remembered! Silent tears fell down both of your cheeks as you collapsed to the ground, still holding onto each other for dear life
“I’m so sorry” Lucifer sobbed in your hair “I’m so so sorry”
“It wasn’t your fault Luci”
“If I hadn’t been a jerk you wouldn’t have left! If I would have simply listened to you, they wouldn’t have gotten to you! You would’ve stayed here, where you belong! You would have stayed with me but instead I was too busy with my stupid job and the stupid cases and I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” he continued crying on your shoulder as you rubbed small circles on his back
“I’m here now my love” you whispered, kissing his cheek “And I’m not going anywhere”
#lucifer#lucifer netflix#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar angst#lucifer morningstar
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My Home
Summary: You’ve loved Newt since you were both in school. He’s loved you back as well and will continue to love you even when you return from the war different.
Warnings: fluff, angst, ptsd
Reader: Male Slytherin Reader
Pairings: Newt Scamander x Male Reader
Word Count: 3,812
A/n: Enjoy
Masterlist
You had ambitions when you were growing up. You wanted to be important, you wanted to be rich. You wanted to capture the attention of every room you walked into. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life living in the slums you had grown up in.
When you got your letter for Hogwarts you became excited. You were sorted into Slytherin, which didn’t surprise anybody who knew you.
You were as smart as you were ambitious. You knew if you were to have the life you envisioned then you had to do well in school. As your classmates tried out for Quidditch, you were studying Charms. As others went on dates, you were in the library.
You had a few friends but mainly kept to yourself. The last thing you wanted was to get attached to anybody and have them get in the way of your grand plan. But life hardly ever works out the way you want it.
Your friends had convinced you to take a day off from your studies to swim in the Black Lake. It was a beautiful day and you agreed. When your group was within rage, they hooted and hollered as they raced for the water. You smirk, rolling your eyes as they dove into the lake leaving you with the towels and shirts.
You moved closer to the water and tossed what you were carrying on the ground. Movement to your left, by the trees that were near the water, gained your attention. You saw two students sitting in the shade. You could barely make out their uniforms but noted that one was a Slytherin while the other was a Hufflepuff. An odd friendship but one that didn’t bother you like it bothered some of your other housemates.
You found yourself observing him them for longer than you intended. The girl merely spared your friend group a glance before looking back to what she was doing. The boy, however, was staring. It took you a moment to realize his gaze was toward your direction. When you realized this, a cocky smirk came to your lips.
Your fingers grabbed the the edges of your shirt. You pulled it off, stretching your muscles dramatically. You didn’t have the best body, especially compared to some of your friends, but as long as he was looking why not give him something to look at?
When your eyes went back to him, he was looking away. It disappointed you but you shrugged it off and joined your friends in the lake. You periodically glanced towards the two under the tree. The last time you looked, they were gone.
The next time you saw the boy under the tree was about a month later in the library. You were looking for a book when you stumbled into him as you went down another row. He was sitting at one of the tables. His head was in his notes and his eyebrows were frowned.
You found yourself staring at him again. He was so focused on what he was doing he didn’t even notice. Your eyes looked over his freckles, his blonde hair and his pale skin.
Unable to help yourself, you take a seat near him. He glances at you before looking down at his book. You bite back a smirk when his eyes quickly return to you. Then it becomes evident that he’s trying not to look at you.
You’re just about to get the courage to talk to him when his Slytherin friend comes around the corner. You inwardly curse yourself for taking too long but at least you heard her say his name.
Newt.
Once you had his name, it wasn’t hard for you to find out quite a bit about him. Apparently Newt was infamously known around Hogwarts for his love of magical creatures and his close friendship with Leta Lestrange. He was a few years younger than you but it didn’t bother you. You wanted to know him.
Getting him to talk to you was almost as difficult as it was for you to get him to be comfortable around you. It took you months to get him to be relaxed in your company. Took you a little longer for him to prefer your company to Leta’s.
You weren’t a big fan of Leta. She was selfish and wanted Newt to herself. You knew there was a part of her that cared for Newt but her ambition matched yours and not in a good way.
You hated that Newt was obviously in love with her when he should be in love with you. Newt had your attention the second you saw him by the lake. You wanted him and you were hoping to gain his favor but wasn’t expecting it to be this hard. However, anything worth having is worth working for.
Although, there has always been a little doubt that you’d never get Newt to look at you the way he stares at Leta. It was barely a decade into the 20th century. Same sex couples weren’t exactly welcome, even in the wizarding world. You didn’t let that stop you from trying.
“These are bowtukles?” You asked, grinning a bit bashfully when Newt was giving you his adorable amused look.
“Bowtruckle,” Newt corrected you. You continue to stare at his face even when he looks away.
“Bowtruckle,” You whisper, grinning when you see his cheeks redden. The reaction gives you hope that just maybe he’s into you.
“They erm... They eat insects and um... they’re shy,” Newt mumbles, avoiding your gaze as he explains what he knows about the creature crawling in your hand.
“No wonder they like you so much,” You tell him. “You’re one and the same,” Newt looks at you sheepishly. “You’re both shy but I don’t think you eat insects, at least I’ve never seen you eat them,”
“Heh, no,” Newt shakes his head, fiddling with his fingers.
“But you’re both adorable,” You blurt. This time, it’s you avoiding eye contact. You clear your throat and shift a bit awkwardly. You were smart, you were ambitious, but for the love of Merlin you could hardly flirt.
But like many things, even if you weren’t good at something it didn’t stop you from doing it. You were a bad singer but you still sang if it cheered Newt up when he was feeling down. You were horrible with creatures but you tried because Newt would always light up when he got to teach you something. You weren’t the greatest at romance but you still tried to woo Newt.
In your eyes, you were hardly making progress but Newt saw things differently. He may have been infatuated with Leta before he knew you but then you were the one capturing his attention. He looked forward to being around you. He wasn’t so anxious with you. If he was, it was a good anxious.
It wouldn’t be until your last year, his 5th year, did you finally get the courage to do something about your feelings for him.
You took him to Hogsmeade. It didn’t occur to Newt that this was a date until the end of the night. The whole time he thought the two of you were just hanging out and that you were being overly flirtatious.
Then you kissed him.
He was talking as you two were walking back to Hogwarts. A nervous ramble. One you would normally listen to but there was something else on your mind.
There was no-one around. He was being his adorable self and all you wanted to do was plant one on his lips. So, you did.
It was a quick peck. You pulled back just as quick as you moved in. It was enough, however, to gain his attention. You both stopped walking and he turned to you in a sort of daze. You gnawed on your lower lip and watched his expression carefully.
His face was completely red and he was looking everywhere else. You would have been scared he didn’t like it if it wasn’t for the smile threatening to rip his face in two.
You did a quick glance around to see if anybody was around before turning back to Newt when you were reassured the two of you were still alone. Slowly, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck. His eyes snap back toward you. You steps closer to him.
“Tell me to stop,” You whispers, gently pressing your forehead on his. When he remains silent, you connect your lips on his once again. This time you go slowly. You smirk just a bit when his hands grab your jacket. You pull him closer, resting your other hand on his hip.
Technically, you two never became official but he was yours and you were his. Leta was the only one who knew about your relationship and you had not so kindly threatened her to keep it quiet. You weren’t about to allow her to use your relationship with Newt for her own gain. As much as you wished she would just stay away you knew you wouldn’t be able to get rid of her because Newt still cared about her.
Your happiness with Newt only lasted a few months until trouble came.
“It wasn’t your fault! Why are you taking the blame?” You growled, following Newt to the Hufflepuff common room.
“Leta doesn’t deserve to be expelled-”
“And you do?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. “Love, you had nothing to do with the accident, don’t take the blame.”
“It’s already done, there’s no taking it back,” Newt told you. “I’ll be alright,” He promises, glancing at you. “I’ll go live with mum and learn more about creatures. Maybe get a job at the ministry in a few years,” He shrugs. The two of you come to a stop just in front of the doorway. “They’re letting me keep my wand,” He mumbles looking on the bright side. You sighed, staring down at your boyfriend.
“You know, I can leave too,” You suggested. Newt’s eyes snap to yours. “I can go with you and we can go on those adventures you told me about. Discover some creature together,” Newt shakes his head, your smile falters.
“You’re too close to graduation to leave,” Newt says. “I’ll be fine on my own for a couple of months. Graduate then come find me... if you want,” He tells you. You sigh but don’t put up a fight knowing that graduating would help your future more than if you left with Newt now.
“Fine, but don’t miss me too much, yeah?” Newt returns to his sheepish self causing you to grin. Not caring if anyone saw, you grab his chin and direct his lips to yours. “I’ll find you on the other side handsome,”
When Newt left school grounds, you confronted Leta. You made it clear that she was to stay away from Newt and yourself. When she tried to talk back, things got a little more intense.
You hadn’t intended to send her to the medical wing, though you didn’t regret it. All you wanted was to scare her. You succeeded but also received detention for the remainder of your Hogwarts year.
When you graduated, you sought Newt out like you promised. The letters the two of you exchanged wasn’t enough, you wanted to be with him.
His mother welcomed you with open arms while his brother was more hesitant. One, he didn’t know what he thought about the two of you together, and two, he was being the protective older brother.
You stayed with the Scamander's instead of returning to your family home. Your home was on the other side of the country. Plus it was crowded because your entire family shared a little cottage. Newt’s mother allowed you to live with them because once you got a job you were able to help pay for things. You were given a separate room from Newt’s but that didn’t mean you two weren’t spending nights together.
“You should be more careful, love,” You muttered quietly as you tended to his wounded arm. One of the hippogriffs that he helped take care of had scratched up his arm.
“I’m fine,” Newt insisted.
“I should have become a doctor,” You mused. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to be the last time I patch you up,” Newt smiles a bit. By the time you were done, his arm was as good as new.
Being a doctor surely would have helped you with the ‘get rich’ part of your plan. But you had other ideas. You were in the process of starting your own business. It was slowly taking off and your name was beginning to spread throughout England. Both wizards and muggles were beginning to learn who you were.
However, you took a few lessons on simple medical procedures in order to help keep Newt in one piece. It paid off because as you predicted, Newt needed patching up more than once. You wouldn’t have thought that such a quiet man like him would get into so much mischief. All for the love of his creatures.
The two of you had a plan. Newt wanted to travel and do research. You wanted to travel and expand your growing business. Why not travel together? It was the perfect plan for the both of you until Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated.
You and Newt were sharing a bed a week after England declared war. Neither of you were talking. You were propped up against the wall with Newt’s back against your chest. Your arm was draped across his collarbones and his hand was cradling your forearm. Your other hand traced his bare stomach while his rested on your thigh.
You were leaving in the morning for training. Newt didn’t want you to go but you couldn’t sit this out. You were going to join the army while Newt fought the war his own way with the ministry.
“I love you, you know that?” You whisper in his ear. Your lips gently press against his head. He hums leaning back against you. You nuzzle your head in his neck and hold him tightly.
“You’ll come back to me,” Newt states, though his voice wavers. You flip your position so that he’s on his back and you’re hovering over him.
“You’re my home, Newt Scamander,” You tell him. “I’ll always come back to you,” You promise. He lifts his head and you lowers yours. Your lips connect as your body settles between his legs. You grind your hips into his earning a quiet moan from him.
In the morning, you left with Theseus. The two of you would serve in the same company. It was nice to know you would go through this with someone you knew. He may not have liked you at first but by the time the war came around, you two were friends.
“So, Thes... Have anyone waiting for you back home?” You asked, sitting in the muddy trench with him. You two were friends but that didn’t mean you talked about everything. By the time you moved in with Newt and their mother, Theseus had already moved out. He only visited here and there.
But now, you two were together every day. You had grown closer than you were before. Though, it’s not like you had much else to do during down time than to talk with him. He was from home, he was familiar. You were in a land unfamiliar fighting against unfamiliar people.
“You wouldn’t like her,” Theseus told you. You raised your eyebrow at him.
“I know her?” You ask, he nods. You continue to stare at him until he caves.
“Leta Lestrange,” He admits. You instantly groan. “She’s told me about you... You two have quite the history,”
“So, she can’t have Newt so she goes for the older brother,” You mutter under your breath.
“She’s not a whore,” He growls defensively. You bite back a sarcastic comment. Theseus lowers his gaze as he pulls out a picture of her. You glance at it before pulling out your own picture of Newt.
“Do you think we’ll make it out of this? Get back to them?” You ask, looking at him. Theseus meets your gaze.
“If we stick together? The Germans don’t stand a chance,” Theseus smirks. You soon begin to return the smirk.
After four years of being stuck in the mud in some other country you and Theseus finally returned home. Theseus returned to his lady love while you went to Newt. He was at the ministry when you returned. You visited him in his office.
“Wow, your own nook in the corner with a window,” You commented standing in the doorway. Newt’s head snaps up. “Hello, love,” You say, entering the room. You closed the door as he stood up and came to you.
When his arms wrapped around you you felt as if you were safe for the first time in four years. Your body sagged in against his but he held you close. You nuzzle your head into his neck seeking his comfort.
“You’re home,” He whispers. “You came back,”
“I’ll always come back to you,” You mutter into his neck.
When you finally pull away from him, Newt told his boss he was going home. Nobody argued with him. You both apparated back to his place. He had moved out of his mothers home a couple of years into the war but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to spend the night in his arms.
He laid on the bed with your head on his chest and your body between his legs. Your eyes stayed locked on the wall as his heart beat filled your ears. His fingers combed through your hair, lulling you to sleep.
While the little sleep you got was more than you had in four years, it wasn’t anywhere near peaceful. You may have left France but France followed you home. The bullets, the fighting, the artillery shells, the fucking smell, everything stayed with you.
You weren’t the only one suffering from the effects of the war. Your business suffered and your relationship became strained. You pushed Newt away, you pushed everyone away and fell into the bottle.
Although, no matter what you did, Newt never left. He took your mood swings, your anger, everything and stayed by your side. You didn’t deserve him.
After a couple of years of putting up with you, you finally ask Newt why he never left.
It was a rough night. You had been sleeping on the couch for a while because of bad nightmares. You didn’t want to keep Newt awake or hurt him in your thrashing. But tonight, you couldn’t get any sleep.
There was a storm raging outside. Thunder so loud the home was shaking. You were working on finishing a bottle of whiskey. When the lightning flashes and another round of thunder rolls, you flinch and let out a shaky breath.
You didn’t even realize that you were muttering to yourself. You were trying to remind yourself that you were home, in England. You were safe, not fighting in the trenches.
You didn’t even notice Newt observing you. He watched you clutch the glass of whiskey like a lifeline. He noticed you fidget. He knew you had struggled since you returned home but no matter what he did, you wouldn’t let him help you.
You were startled from your thoughts by the sound of a record playing. You look up to see Newt turning to you. You try to compose yourself. Newt had seen you at your worst, multiple times, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed showing him this side of you.
You wished you could go back to when you were both at Hogwarts, to a time before the war. You wanted to go back to when things were easy and effortless. You wanted to love Newt and give him everything he deserved not burden him.
When he held his hand out to you, you were tempted to grab a fuller bottle of whiskey and find another room to occupy. But as another round of thunder sounds, all you want to do is be in his arms. It’s the only place where you can be positive you’re safe.
You set the bottle down and take his hand. You stand and nuzzle into his neck. Your hand clings to his as your arm wraps around his back. He sways the two of you and hums in your ear.
“Why haven’t you left me?” You wonder out loud.
“I love you,” He whispers.
“I’m broken,” You tell him.
“Then I love every piece of you,” He mutters. “You’re my home as much as I’m yours,” He leans his head against yours trying to provide you as much comfort as he can. “I know I can’t take your pain and suffering away but maybe I can lessen it,” He whispers to you. “Just let me in... I can handle it. I can help carry whatever it is that’s weighing you down,”
“I don’t want to drag you down with me,” You say, starting to pull away but underestimate his strength. He holds you against him.
“I don’t care where you drag me, I just want to be with you. Let me in, please,” He begs, cupping your cheeks. “I love you and nothing will change that. I’ve stayed with you all these years because I want too and I’ll stay with you for the rest of our lives, even if you push me away. Don’t push me away anymore,”
“I’m sorry,” You whisper, pressing your head against his. “It’s just... my head’s so loud and...” You sigh. You hated talking about this but Newt deserved to have some kind of understanding. “Everything reminds me of the way... Even the fucking thunder,” You grumble.
“Then focus on me... when it gets too much,” Newt mutters.
“You hate attention,” You whisper.
“Not from you,” Newt counters. “I’ve always wanted your attention,” He tells you. You give him a small smile. “I was thinking about starting up my travels for that book I mentioned... I want you to come with me,”
“Are you sure?” You ask. “I can stay here-”
“I want you with me,” He tells you. “You can spread your business or just come along for the ride. Patch me up when I need you,” Your smile widens a bit. “IF things get too much, you can ride in my case,” You let out a small laugh.
“You still have that bloody case?” Newt blushes a bit and nods. “Alright, love... I’ll come with you,” Newt perks up and connects your lips quickly. You laugh before kissing him back. “You’re perfect, Newt Scamander, and I love you”
#newt scamander#newt x reader#newt scamander x reader#newt scamander x y/n#newt scamander x male!reader#newt x male!reader#x male!reader#x male reader#wizard#hogwarts#theseus scamander#leta lestrange#bowtruckle#war
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I've been thinking about making this post for a while but I just never had the time - I LOVE wordy songs. Songs that feel like stream of consciousness ramblings, where the words feel like marbles falling out of the singer's mouth. Songs that sound like spoken word poems set to music.
Pale Green Things by the Mountain Goats is a wordy song. It's very intimate and emotional as well, but the way it's structures just has this unmatched energy to it compared to something with more of an on-the-nose song structure like This Year or Harlem Roulette. Like there's something incredible about the way he says "seaweed and Indiana sawgrass", like are you kidding me? And it's right at the end of the song too! I don't know why, but it's perfect!!
Maria Mena - not just the way she enunciates her words, but the way her songs are written. That's what caught me off-guard about Nevermind Me, there's a runoff line in a verse that just keeps going with the syllables and it sounds so good. Dear is this aching ramble about a person from a destructive part of her life that both alleviated and exacerbated her struggles - the line "I was looking for something destructive / and there you were / with all the characteristics of my mom / familiarity of home" is just. Packed in like a can of sardines. And the whole song is like that, loaded with these really busy lyrics as well as being really dark and vulnerable.
And that brings me to my recent Dar Williams posting, because looking at a sheet of lyrics from Dar Williams is like looking at the page of a book. "Once I had everything, I gave it up / for a corner of a driveway in the woods I've never felt / But for you I came this far across the tracks / ten miles above the limit with no seatbelt" is half of a verse. And it's already a mouthful, but in the break between the two halves of the verse, she sneaks in another phrase too - it goes on and on.
My current favorite verse from her is from a song called February, and I'm just gonna post a screenshot of the lyrics because it's this long running dialogue that doesn't rhyme and I'm INFATUATED with it:
The "what's a flower?" part is referencing the second verse, for context.
Her songs are these sprawling narrative pathways that have so much to chew on. That being said, she's got one called the Christians and the Pagans that's got a structure that bugs me a little - not all of her songs are like this. But the really, really good ones are.
God I just want someone to run off into a hundred little tangents at a time and cram more words than a 1000 year old dictionary into a song. It's so pleasing to listen to, I have no idea why.
#the mountain goats#maria mena#dar williams#long post#edit: ALSO NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS#I've been listening to brompton oratory on repeat holy shit
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10 Films to watch this Valentine’s Day if you’re single as hell.
If anyone or anything is making you feel worthless on the Capitalist Holiday that is Valentine’s Day because you’re single AF, then don’t fret because it means one of two things;
You’re happy enough with yourself to not need anyone else.
You’re allergic to people.
Though mine is both the former and the latter, I can still get down to a good romance movie now and again. Now I’m not talking about those horrendous rom coms that Netflix seems to be churning out every damn minute, but those emotionally invested, earthy and well written dramas that has you ugly crying into your bathrobe for 17 minutes straight (me at the end of Her.). Here is a compiled list of some of the best romance films I’ve seen over the years and how each one doesn’t showcase an abundance of clichés and brands them as “acts of love”.
A Star is Born (2018 or 1953, take your pick)
I’ve found that both the 1953 version of A Star is Born with Judy Garland and the 2018 newer version to be a perfect and well rounded love story. What makes this love story so fierce is the vulnerabilities and downfall of its characters, which even though there are many sad moments, it perpetuates and strengthens the acts of love shown in the film. Both versions are similar in that they follow a woman who’s rise to fame as a performer becomes overshadowed by her jealous partner, who is also a notable celebrity. In the 2018 version starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper, Gaga’s character Ally is helped by a country singer, Jackson Maine to become a successful singer and icon amongst the music industry. As she rises, Jackson falls and the character dynamics and intensity between them is a fitting love story. I was thoroughly bawling at the end and I guarantee you will too as Lady Gaga’s rendition of Love Again was the true scene stealer of the film.
Call me by your name (2017)
I have an incredible bias towards this film and it has nothing to do with the film’s context or characters or even Timothée Chalamet The reason why I feel so connected to this film and proclaim it as my favourite film of all time is because of when I watched the film. It’s almost like seeing a film about a political event right after it's happened; you have this rush and connection towards something that’s actually affected you in the real world. I had the same feeling with Call me by your name after going through a rough and confusing patch whilst trying to get over someone I thought I truly loved. Turns out I didn’t (thank god) and yet Call me your name was almost like a shoulder to cry on. It’s a film that’s taught me to love and love hard but most importantly, not beat yourself up or try to distinguish the pain felt by true love. If you haven’t been fortunate to catch this beauty of a film, it follows two men, Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and Oliver (Armie Hammer) and their brief relationship in the summer of 1983 in Northern Italy. 17 year old Elio lives with his parents and his father (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a scholar who invites students from outside the country for the summer in hope of passing on his wisdom to them. This is when Oliver arrives, a handsome twenty something American who becomes the infatuation of Elio.
I’ll never forget the first time I heard the monologue that Elio’s father gave his son at the end, explaining to Elio why he shouldn’t feel embarrassed by the pain he felt after loving Oliver:
“We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste”
That, ladies and gentlemen and all in between, is what love is.
Her. (2013)
Once again, another film about love that had a profound effect on me because of when I watched it. Her. follows the story of Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) and his search for a story using an A.I to help him write. However, after getting to know this A.I named Samantha (Scarlett Johansson) and hearing the way she adapts and shows emotions, he soon falls in love with it. Some may deem this as rather sad (which it is) but I think it speaks to bigger constructs like internet dating and letting go of people you loved thus diminishing the fantasy and world you created for the two of you. This part of the film got to me a stark way as I felt the pain of letting go of not only a person, but a fantasy, just like Theodore had to do in letting his past partners go. Her. is truly beautiful, with some great production design, cinematography and acting.
Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
The absolute queen of love stories would be Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, a film about the romance between two women in the late 18th Century. Definitely not a narrative you see every day or one that’s been painted in such a way (pun intended). Marianne (Noémie Merlant) is commissioned to paint the beautiful and stubborn Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) and the portrait is to be gifted to a suitor of Héloïse’s from Milan. But instead of getting the painting done and sending it off, Marianne and Héloïse unexpectedly fall for one another at a subtle and well timed pace that had me gawping at the screen the entire way through. Slow, sensual and moving is Portrait of a Lady on Fire and I would definitely say is one of the best LGBTQ plus films ever made to date.
Broke Back Mountain (2005)
Ang Lee scooped up a BAFTA, Golden Globe and Oscar for his direction on his adapted screenplay of Brokeback Mountain. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) form a romantic bond after shepherding alone together on the side of a mountain. Once their time herding sheep comes to a close and they return back to their respective lives, it's clear that their bond is stronger than they had anticipated. They live in constant fear of their relationship becoming apparent to those around them, which leaves one of them taking matters into their own hands. A controversial yet extremely successful film of its time, Brokeback Mountain does a fabulous job of showcasing the consequences and despair of love using two of Hollywood’s finest actors.
Carol (2013)
It’s difficult to fully appreciate LGBTQ plus films set in the past as they mostly focus on the persecution of homosexuals as opposed to the love they wish to express. However, this was pretty accurate of the time and it's only very recently that we have begun to accept one another’s sexualities and genders fully so much that we play these stories out on screen without the persecution part. Carol is a film directed by Todd Haynes and stars Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett. I found them to be an extremely intense pairing whilst they unravelled as their characters on screen. Therese (Rooney Mara) works in the toy department of a department store when one day she lays eyes upon Carol Aird, a beautiful and elegant married woman who becomes the infatuation of Therese. Therese throws all caution to the wind in order to be closer to Carol and because of this and the 1950s society they live in, their relationship is doomed from the beginning. I was in complete awe of the way Carol had been shot and created into this sensual and rich drama set in the 1950s. From the costumes, to the lighting to the acting, everything about Carol held weight to it showcasing the devotion of a truly talented director.
Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind (2004)
Usually I’d pass on a Charlie Kaufman film, seeing as they make no sense, however I felt that it was time I delved into this cult classic starring Kate Winslet, Jim Carrey, Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo and Elijah Wood. It’s a really well made film with a clear and distinct message to it that’s represented in some phenomenal filmmaking techniques. The plot line of this film follows a man trying to erase a past lover and his memories of her get wiped away physically before your eyes on screen. It made me wish that I could do the same with people I’ve liked in the past, but the contradictory of this would be the trauma of eventually ending up with someone you had already met in another life. I haven’t experienced a break up nor felt the pain of one, though I could judge that this film tells that experience really well.
Moonlight (2016)
Moonlight is one of few films that I would genuinely worship if it were a religion. It's also one of the films that I outwardly shame people for not having seen, as it is truly a masterpiece and film lover’s film. Deep, emotionally connected, colourful, harsh, moving and eye opening, this film takes you on an emotional rollercoaster through the eyes of Chiron and the three stages of his life that have carved out his essence as a human being. Not only that, but he falls in love with another boy at his school, and when he does, he’s hurt rather badly. Literally. Moonlight is the definition of profundity and was awarded the top prize of Best Picture at the 2017 Academy Awards.
Loving (2016)
When I think of a truthful and honest testament of love, the film Loving comes to mind which is a fitting title for such a delicate yet strong story. The film is based on a true story of an interracial couple, Richard and Mildred (Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga) being banned from Virginia in the 1950s for choosing to be together. If that ain’t a true sacrifice of love, then I don’t know what is. Choosing someone you love over your own home is an unfathomable thing and certainly shows the strength that this couple had in facing the judgements of others whilst remaining emotionally truthful to themselves.
The Shape of Water (2017)
The Shape of Water is a strange yet enlightening love story between Eliza, a deaf woman (Sally Hawkins) and a creature being tested on in a laboratory. Awards season went mental for this back in 2018, winning four of the THIRTEEN Oscars it was nominated for. I would categorize it as quite the niche film and wouldn’t usually think that such a film could be garnered with Oscar success. However everyone who worked on this film really pulled out the stops in creating an entire new world and perspective that has many layers to it, as well as an abundance of conflict and dynamics for audiences to lull over. The relationship between Eliza and the feared swamp monster that’s being cruelly tested in the laboratories where she works, is heartfelt and honest, which is strange seeing as Eliza’s virtually in love with a monster. The casting in this was outlandish yet it really worked as all actors in this melded well into the story as their prospective characters. It also has one of the most touching endings to a film I’ve ever seen.
And there you have it, ten Romance films for you to enjoy this Valentine’s Day. Watch them all at once, or maybe just watch one. Whether you watch it alone or with someone, it doesn’t really matter!
Lots of love
Ang x
#valentines#valentinesday#astarisborn#lady gaga#bradleycooper#call me by your name#her movie#joaquin phoenix#scarlett johansson#timothee chalamet#armie hammer#armie and timothée#portrait of a lady on fire#broke back mountain#jake gyllenhaal#heath ledger#carol#cate blanchett#rooney mara#eternal sunshine of the spotless mind#kate winslet#jim carrey#Moonlight#barry jenkins#loving 2015#the shape of water#guillermo del toro#oscar#love#romantic films
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+Perfect Harmony+ (Part One) Luke x Reader
Description: For Y/N Molina, it never came easy for her. The hardest part not being able to do the one thing she loved, creating music. With her cousin Julie joining a ghost band that she’s been secretly admiring for years, her all time crush not returning the same feelings, and having many untold secrets, something is bound to go wrong.
Warnings: ANGST, swearing, mention of suicidal thoughts, Ray not being that nice (I’m sorry Ray, we love you), mention of slight sexual harassment, mentions of death (duh), terrible writing, typos, and probably more that my brain can’t think of at the moment.
After Writing All Of That I’m Questioning This Story, But I Do Love It So... Many Songs Will Be Featured, Feel Free To Listen To Them When They Come Up.
+Perfect Harmony+
For Y/N Molina life wasn’t easy. Her parents, one being the sister of Ray Molina, dropped her off in front of the Molina household at the age of fourteen before going off to explore the world. At the time she was upset about the situation, but it wasn’t surprising. Her parents never wanted a kid, she practically raised herself while they were in Greece eating seafood, and sipping at the finest wine, no doubt. “How are you doing?” Rose, her cousin Julie’s mom, asks.
Y/N shrugs. “They’re never coming back, so I guess I’m going to be stuck on this couch for a while.” She actually grew quite fond of the sofa that pulled out into a bed.
“We’ll make you a room up in the loft,” Rose assures.
“So, we agree, my parents are…” Her voice fades off, inhaling through her nose.
“You know, this used to be the studio of a band.” Y/N tilts her head, looking at the older woman. “A rock band, I met them when they were going to play at The Orpheum--”
“The Orpheum?!” Y/N exclaims. “That’s amazing!”
“They were, but they died that night.” Rose stands up, walking to a box. “This is some of their stuff.” She picks it up. “I’ve heard the music you listen to, and I think you would like them.” Setting down the box in front of Y/N, she wastes no time searching through it.
“Sunset Curve?” she questions, staring down at the logo printed on the shirt. “Cool name,” she compliments with a wide smile, setting the article of clothing in her lap. She picks up a picture showing four boys. “Were these them?”
“Yes, that one was Bobby, he’s a flirt, Reggie, sweetie, Alex, very sassy--” Y/N giggles, “And Luke, he was the lead singer.”
“He’s… Quite decent looking,” Y/N observes sheepishly.
“I knew you’d think so.” Rose ruffles her hair. “Listen to the CD, you never know…”
“I will.” Y/N clutches the photo to her chest as Rose leaves. Hastily she picks up the CD that had the band's logo plastered on the plastic case. She gently places it in the player, waiting for the music to come through the speakers. And then, there it was. “They’re amazing.” She grabs the box again, pulling out an orange beanie, placing it on her head.
By the end of the night she had searched the entire studio for more stuff, gathering it, trying things on, she stayed up ‘til sunrise listening, and trying to learn each and every one of their songs, painting each of the members on canvases, writing songs about the guitarist that even though died years ago, she couldn’t help but feel connected to. A crush on a dead guy, what’s better than that?
“Boo!” Luke poofs in next to Y/N who’s currently getting her textbooks out of her locker.
“God!” she shrieks. “You need to stop doing that to me, gonna give me a heart attack,” she mutters as her fellow classmates, and random people she had never met give her weird glances. “Make people think I’m crazy.” Luke opens his mouth to reply, but Y/N beats him to it. “Yes, Luke, I know ‘we’re all a little crazy’.”
He pouts. “Someone’s grumpy today.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the locker next to hers. “But, anyways! Do you know where Julie is?”
And there Y/N’s heart was punched. “I mean, she has to be around here somewhere,” she answers, slamming the locker door. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have to go to class.” She takes her time to turn around on her heels.
“You’re gonna be at band rehearsal before our performance, right?” he asks, making her stop.
Turning only the upper half of her body to look at him. “I think you forget I live in the studio.”
He lets out an airy chuckle. “Right.” He playfully rolls his eyes.
Unlike Julie she didn’t care if people thought she was crazy, for the number one reason being that people already thought that. Wacky, coocoo, freak, those were just some of the words people called her before her favorite band suddenly popped out of nowhere because Julie played their CD.
That always confused Y/N, why is that when she played the CD all that time ago they didn’t show up, but when Julie did, they did? She never mentioned her already known infatuation with the band, even though it most likely answers the question of why Julie and her can see the ghosts. “But, I’m grounded so…” She carelessly shrugs. “I’m stuck on party duty for the time being, so probably won’t be there for that, but I’ll be there for the actual performance.” Even though she would’ve done it anyway, Ray wanted Y/N to be more ‘supportive’.
“Oh.” His smile falters a little. “Cool, I’ll catch you later then.”
An awkward tension fills the air. “Yep.” She salutes towards him, walking off.
Grounded. No phone, only can drive her car to school, and home. Y/N wasn’t even allowed to listen to her records which she’s collected over the course of three years. And it was for the reason that she's failing multiple classes, but Ray didn’t understand the struggle she’s going through.
Let’s rewind… When Rose died it left the whole Molina family broken. But, it also left another part of Y/N broken when music became Julie’s thing at that moment, Ray not allowing Y/N to even have a guitar in her room. She loved music, all she wanted to do was sing, play every instrument, write every song with any word that popped into her mind. Julie couldn’t even touch a piano until recently, and yet, it had to only be Julie’s thing. So, now Y/N has to just secretly write songs in her red notebook knowing they’ll never be used, and secretly play in the school’s band room before any student takes a foot into the building, while she watches her cousin and the guys become ‘Julie and the Phantoms’.
What does hurt her everyday, is not being able to do something she loves because they’re afraid of how it might affect someone else. But, if Julie really cared for her family member then she’d be happy for her, right? Not to mention the way Luke looks at Julie hurts a little too, the chemistry. No one can deny it. It’s not like she’s had a crush on him before they even met him as a ghost. No, the biggest crush that she’s ever had is totally not a dead guy, and no, she’s never in the past thought about killing herself in hope to meet him if there were an afterlife, which she guesses there is now. She’s sure he loves Julie not being an absolute mess for him, and he probably knows that Y/N’s in love with him and is trying to show her he doesn’t like her in the worst way possible. “Y/N!” she internally screams, hearing the familiar voice.
“Josh…” she drags out his name. Maybe she should just give him a chance? He gives her plenty of attention. She giggles to herself when the thought crosses her mind. That wasn’t funny. An inner voice replies.
“Hey, I just… Wanted to see how you were doing, you know--just friend to friend.”
“I actually have to go to class, so we’ll talk later, ‘kay?” She tries to turn around to leave, but Josh grabs her arm to pull her back.
“Class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes,” he counters.
“Y/N!” Luke exclaims, poofing right next to Josh. “I still haven’t found Julie, are you sure you don’t know where she is?” He almost didn’t even notice the other boy that had also been fighting for Y/N’s attention.
“I like to get to class early,” Y/N replies to Josh. “And you haven’t seen Julie around here, have you?”
“I think I saw her in the dance room.” She gives Luke a pointed look. “You know, practicing for that dance thing.”
“Yeah!” Y/N responds, not even an ounce interested in this conversation. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she noticed Luke not leaving.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
“So, Josh, I really have to go,” she claims. “I’ll see ya around!”
“Wait,” he starts. “Is this about when I tried to kiss you the other day?” Y/N tenses up,
Luke’s jaw dropping slightly.
Followed by a wide smile. “Does Y/N have a boyfriend?!” he mocks.
“No, well, yes, it is. We aren’t dating, Josh, it’s uncomfortable.” Josh huffs out. “That’s not a weird reason for why.” Y/N’s blood starts to boil.
“You should feel honored that someone would even want to kiss you, I mean your reputation here isn’t all too great, Y/N,” he states.
“Goodbye, Josh.” She turns on her heels.
Luke watches as she angrily walks away, glaring at Josh who obviously couldn’t see him. He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see Julie by her locker. Giving Y/N one more glimpse he goes to do what he came here to do.
Y/N sits at her desk, rereading over the words that she colorfully wrote in her journal. “You pretty thing, with pretty things inside,” she sings quietly. She slams the book closed when she finds herself getting annoyed by just how untalented she was.
“I think that Nick guy has a crush on Julie,” Luke reports, once again magically appearing in front of her. He was taken aback when she didn’t react.
#julie and the phantoms#julie molina#julie jatp#jatp#jatp imagines#jatp netflix#jatp fic#jatp x reader#jatp fanfic#jatp fanfiction#luke patterson#luke x reader#luke patterson imagines#luke patterson imagine#luke patterson x reader#charlie gillespie#charlie gillespie x reader#charlie gillespie fic#charlie gillespie fanfiction#Alex Mercer#owen joyner#owen patrick joyner#reggie peters#Jeremy Shada#madison reyes#carrie wilson#jadah marie#savannah lee may#imagines#netflix
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Henlo, it's Suzume Anon and long time no see! I hope you're doing well! I just finished DGS 2-3 and my mind was blown away, like I couldn't believe THAT would happen. Anyway, I'd like to make a DGS-related request. Which characters do you think would love a s/o who enjoys singing whenever and wherever and that they have a beautiful voice?
hey suzume anon!! it has been a while- but its good to hear from you again! and i agree!! 2-3 is absolutely AMAZING! the ending made me wanna cry
——
-> susato mikotoba
Susato is the kind of person who quickly falls in love with every thing about you. The second you sing for her, she becomes entranced with your voice.
It's so beautiful! There is something about it that is very angelic and soothing.
She loves that at random points during the day she can hear your melodic voice carrying throughout the house. It never fails to brighten her mood.
Music is something that she's always been a fan of because the sound of it is just beautiful. It's really no surprise that she swoons over your voice when she hears it.
If you ever want to practice she will gladly listen! She will close her eyes and have a small smile on her face as she is soothed by your voice.
Loves, loves, loves to compliment you! You deserve to know how amazingly pleasant she finds your singing. She'll tell you exactly how much she enjoys hearing you sing, and won't shy away from it.
I feel like she can sing to a certain degree, and she wants to get better! If you'd be willing to, she'd love to have you give her some lessons.
——
-> satoru hosonaga
i swear i didnt put him on this list just bc i love him and wanted to write for him
Satoru loves your voice! It's very charming and just radiates and elegance that he is infatuated with.
When he hears you start to sing throughout the day he will always smile and stop whatever he's doing to listen. His current case can wait, he has to indulge in your singing right now.
Just imagine him leaning back in his chair, eyes closed with a pleasant smile as he listens to you sing from his office.
Literally, he loves that you randomly start singing during the day. It is always a treat when he hears you sing some tune.
He falls more in love with you each time.
Always asks if you'll sing for him. How can he not?? Your singing is the best he's ever heard and nothing makes him feel more at ease than your singing.
Being an inspector is stressful! He's always undercover and risking his life. So at the end of the day he wants to just be in your company and listening to a nice song from you.
It is the perfect way to unwind in his eyes.
——
-> herlock sholmes
Another lover of everything about you, Herlock is entranced by your voice!
When he first hears you sing he's absolutely blown away. He will then proceed to ask you to sing more for him as he just stares at you in awe.
He now will claim that no one in the entire world can sing better than you. You are the best singer in the world and he only ever wants to listen to you sing.
Will brag about you to others too. "My partner has a voice like angels- it's the best in the world". And it goes on and on and on for hours.
Sometimes he'll pull out his violin and play a tune that you can sing to! It always brings a smile to his face to play and have you sing.
Likes it when you run your fingers through his hair and sing something after a long day. It always soothes him.
When he's working on a case and he hears you sing randomly it always boosts his focus and makes him think more clearly. Yes, you have that much of an effect on him.
——
#ace attorney x reader#the great ace attorney x reader#dai gyatuken saiban x reader#susato mikotoba#susato mikotoba x reader#satoru hosonaga#satoru hosonaga x reader#herlock sholmes#herlock sholmes x reader#suzume anon
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Omg hi jelly! It’s the Michelle anon again and I absolutely love ur writing! The way you write for Levi in the letters is so good and you do a very good job at portraying his character through them. Thank you for the letter I absolutely loved it! Which is why I was hoping if I could request another one? If not that’s perfectly fine! Just go ahead and ignore this ask.
Name: Michelle
Gender:female
Pronouns: she/her
Context: modern au where Levi and Michelle had been dating for a year after pining for each other for so long however due to complications with her job (she’s a singer) she has to break up with him even though She doesn’t want to. He later finds out through the media that she is with another man named eren Yeager(another celebrity like Michelle) maybe the letter can be a jealousy type letter? Talking about how eren probably doesn’t touch her the same way as he does or how eren will never make her feel the pleasure he made her feel. However he still mentions how much he misses her and he knows that she isn’t with eren because she wants to be, but because her publicity team is forcing her. Also her and Levi occasionally still hook up because they miss each other so much, despite her being with eren. So maybe he can mention their recent nights together as well???
Genre: angst and smut
(this ask is so specific and weird like I said feel free to ignore if you don’t want to deal w all that! I love ur writing so much keep up the good work!!)
Michelle,
Do you miss me, you little kinky brat? Do you crave me as I crave you? Do you yearn for my body? I do for you. I constantly want you. After everything we’ve been through, the love and desire we share for each other. We had such a perfect life, but it was cut short due to your fucking advisors and manager. I know you didn’t want us to break up, because you make that very clear when we meet up in those hotel rooms.
Does Eren know you still meet with me? Does he know how you love me? Does he know how you moan for me?
That damn Eren. I know you told me your publicity team put you both together to boost you both, but I hate it so much. I know you don’t love him and he doesn’t love you. I know you don’t kiss or hug when cameras aren’t on you both. I know you two have never fucked, but I keep imagining it. I keep thinking you have. He’s infatuated with Mikasa, I know, but that doesn’t stop how I feel.
I know that little shit wouldn’t be able to make you cum like I do. He wouldn’t know how to eat your delicious pussy until your thighs are shaking. He wouldn’t know how you like to be fucked. I bet he couldn’t find your clit, or where your g-spot is. I’ve found it all. I make you cry out my name all night long. I ravage you and have your nails drag down my back. He’s never had his ears blessed with your sweet moans of pleasure. He’s never felt you clench his cock so tightly when you cum hard.
You’re mine brat and you’ll always be mine. I know you feel the same way, because you keep coming back to me.
Fuck all this running around. I want us to be together again. Last night in the hotel room confirmed we both want it, we both want to be together. We see a future in each other. I love you. I love you endlessly and I just can’t let you go. I miss you every second you are not here with me.
Can we be together like a before? No more running around. I know the publicity team moaned about you being popular with Eren at your side, but you’re fucking talented and you not need that little shit by your side to make you more popular. Your talent alone makes you wonderful. Let’s talk about it next time we meet at a hotel. I know you want us to be together, you’ve said it so many times to me. So, let’s do it. We can do anything, anything when we’re together. We’re a powerhouse.
See you soon sweet brat,
Levi x
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Cowboy Like Me
Read Cowboy Like Me on AO3
Masterlist
Written for Maribat March Day 5 - Last Time
Now I know, I'm never gonna love again
Marinette was a terrible sentimentalist. After such a bad breakup it might have been cathartic to tear up the pictures of them, but Marinette just couldn't do it. No, she could bring herself to destroy the evidence of her six-year relationship. Marinette kept all the pictures, all the movie tickets, all the handwritten notes and put them in a shoebox at the top of her closet, somewhere that she couldn't reach without the help of a stepstool. Maybe the pads of her fingers could brush against the smooth cardboard if she stood on her tiptoes. But Marinette could never open it again. Inside that shoebox were the memories of being in love, kept safe, locked away, just out of reach.
As Marinette boarded the plane, she looked back on everything that had gone wrong. Though the cause of all the destruction in her life was uncertain, Marinette could pinpoint the effects exactly. There were a few things Marinette knew for certain: Marinette would never fall in love again, the city Marinette once loved now only held bad memories, and once the plane took off, Marinette would say goodbye to Paris for the last time.
Never wanted love, just a fancy car
The socialite scene of Gotham was dreadfully boring in the winter, Marinette learned. The weather was so brutal that anyone who could afford a second house in Key West or Malibu left as soon as the first snow-fall hit. Marinette stayed inside her penthouse apartment for weeks, designing her wardrobe for the next few months. It had been so long since she had been able to design for herself, without input from anyone else. It was freeing, to work with the colors, the patterns, the styles that she wanted. Marinette had forgotten what freedom felt like. For so long, she had worked for the whims of others, crafting to someone else's design.
Marinette made her first friend two weeks after the move. Silver St. Cloud was Marinette's neighbor in the apartment to the left. Silver was a model and influencer, and a self-proclaimed expert on all of the rich single men in Gotham. Upon their first meeting, Silver offered to show Marinette around Gotham and introduce her to the socialite scene. Marinette, hesitant but hopeful, accepted.
"Bruce Wayne is the best that Gotham has to offer," said Silver as they leave Starbucks, lattes in hand. "But there are plenty of men who are worth your attention - women too, if that's what you prefer."
"Bruce Wayne is the best?"
Silver nodded. "The Waynes have owned this city for as long as Gotham has been on a map. I wouldn't set your sights on him completely, though. Bruce Wayne doesn't date anyone, not even a former member of Kitty Section."
Kitty Section was known around the world, the biggest band to come out of France in the last decade. Their songs topped charts. Their albums won awards. Their well-crafted image of reclusive, mysterious artists led to a media sensation over the members of Kitty Section. Everyone wanted to know them - Luka Couffaine and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the lead vocalists whose relationship enchanted their fans. Rose Lavillant, the backing vocalist and keyboardist, and Juleka Couffaine, the bass guitarist, who were unashamed of their love for each other. Ivan Bruel, the mysterious drummer who had the name Mylène carved into his drumsticks. They were famous. They were at the top of their game. They were unstoppable.
Marinette ruined it all when she left the band. Her split had been big news, exposing a dark side of Kitty Section that their fans were never supposed to see. But after their breakup, Marinette quickly realized that she never loved music. She loved Luka, and once that love faded away, she loved nothing.
"I guess I'll find someone else," said Marinette, but it was a lie. There was Luka Couffaine, and after that, there was no one else. She might be able to love fancy dresses and expensive cars, but Marinette would never love a person again, not the way she loved Luka. When it came to love (deep, true love, not just the infatuations of childhood) Luka was her first time, Luka was her only time, and Luka would be her last time.
Perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear
Marinette quickly learned the art of charming everyone she met, either through her impressive resume (founding member of Kitty Section) or through her newfound ability to flirt. It turns out, once you turn off your feelings it becomes very easy to pretend that you can still love.
Marinette and Silver became thick as thieves. The girls became a popular pair, charming every birthday brunch and charity dinner. For Silver, it was all about networking. As she explained to Marinette, "I'm trying to create a brand. I'm trying to turn my own name into something that can be sold, and for that, I need connections.
For Marinette, it was something to do. As long as she used her money wisely, Marinette had enough saved to comfortably live out the rest of her days. The real problem came in finding something to pass the time. Marinette rarely felt joy in living her life, the way she used to back when she was a child, the bright-eyed girl who aspired to be a designer. Now, everything from charming a billionaire to designing a new dress felt like a chore.
"Come meet Bruce Wayne," urged Silver as she grabbed Marinette's hand. "He just got back from Nepal. It's his first time in Gotham in six months. He skipped his own New Year's Gala to go soul-searching in the Himalayas. It's my job tonight to convince him to stay in town for longer than a week."
There was a determination to Silver's voice. From everything she had heard about Bruce Wayne, Marinette doubted that Silver could make him change his ways. However, that wouldn't stop Marinette from helping her new-found friend.
Silver's whole body-language changed, shifting from a determined march to a delicate float as she made her way over to a dark-haired man in a well-fitted tux. "Hello, Bruce. It's so nice to see you again."
"Silver." Bruce acknowledged her, sounding bored. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was the lead singer of Kitty Section before the band split up a few months ago."
"Kitty Section... I might have heard of them before. The band was... French?"
Marinette nodded. "Yes. All the members were born and raised in Paris. Have you heard of any of our music?
"I'm certain now that I have. It was very... commercial."
Marinette ought to have slapped him across the face right then and there. Not only was commercial not a compliment, but it also wasn't even true. It was the biggest criticism of Kitty Section, their reticence to work with popular music trends. Despite her overwhelming desire to assault the most wealthy and influential man in the ballroom, Marinette instead steeled her face and gave Bruce a pleasant smile. "Thank you. So what do you do for a living, Mister Wayne."
"I travel."
Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He spoke two words to her. The conversation was anything but interesting. "How interesting. Have you ever been to Paris?"
"I'm not a tourist, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I travel to much more interesting places."
Marinette officially gave up on the conversation. She would let Silver (who looked to be itching to have her turn to talk to Bruce) try and fix the train-wreck of a conversation that Bruce created. "You sound like a man with a lot of stories to tell. I hope you can tell me them over lunch someday."
"Perhaps."
Marinette gave Bruce her politest smile. "I have to excuse myself. Silver, why don't you tell Bruce about your new sponsorship from Lululemon."
Silver lit up. "Oh, you have to hear about this email I got last week. It was amazing, it's so good for my brand..."
Marinette walked away, letting her distaste towards Bruce leave her. Secretly, a little part of her hoped that Bruce would leave Gotham, as he was well-known for doing. Though Silver was her friend, Marinette didn't think she could pretend to like Bruce.
"He's intolerable, isn't he?" joked a voice from beside Marinette.
Marinette turned to face the stranger, a beautiful woman, taller than Marinette by quite a few inches, with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. She wore a dress of royal blue silk, so elegant it reminded Marinette of the sort of thing she always dreamed of making. "Who?"
"Bruce Wayne. Who else would it be?"
Marinette let out a quiet laugh. "He is quite unpleasant. I take it you know him."
"I accompanied him on some of his travels. Bruce is a good friend of mine, but these parties tend to bring out the worst in him. He hates this city and he especially hates the wealthy of this city." The woman grabbed a glass of wine off of a server's tray and handed it to Marinette, who gratefully took it.
"Then I doubt Silver will have any luck convincing him to stay." Marinette tried to keep the satisfaction out of her tone, but the woman laughed anyways, an indication that it didn't work.
"You're quite funny..." The woman paused for an introduction.
"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you are?"
"Diana-"
The sound of shattering glass interrupted Diana's introduction. The crowd started to get frantic, and Marinette was pushed one way while Diana was pushed the other. The glass of wine was knocked out of Marinette's hand, staining the fabric of her dress. Marinette struggled to stay on her feet, desperate to not twist an ankle in her four-inch heels.
"Listen up!" shouted an oddly-dressed man. "You're all going to listen to me, and no one will get hurt."
Marinette had a very odd feeling that this would be a moment she remembered for the rest of her life.
Never thought I'd meet you here. It could be love
"They're calling him a supervillain. Apparently, his name is The Riddler," reported Marinette, looking up from her phone, where she was reading about the events of the night before.
Silver glanced up from her seat on the sofa across the room where she was painting her nails a delicate shade of pink. "It's about time Gotham got its own supervillain. Metropolis has had Superman and all the villains that follow him around for years."
Marinette snorted out a laugh. "You think that a supervillain is a good thing?"
"Sure. It means that Gotham will be getting a superhero of its own soon." Silver brightened up. "Plus, the hostage situation from last night meant that I got to spend a whole two hours with Bruce."
Marinette groaned. "I can't believe that you two are going on a date. Bruce Wayne is one of the most insufferable men I've ever met."
"It's not a date. Bruce specified it as just dinner between friends. You should come too, Marinette. I'm sure that once you spend some time with Bruce you'll warm up to him."
Marinette gave Silver a skeptical look. "You want me to come with you on your date with Bruce?"
"Again, it's not a date. Bruce said that he would be bringing one of his friends along as well."
Marinette finally understood Silver's intentions. "You want me to come with you so that I can partner up with Bruce's friend, and you can get some alone time with Bruce."
"Well it doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way," huffed Silver.
Marinette giggled. "I love devious plans. We'll just have to make it look natural."
It took a little time to get all the details, but Marinette and Silver got their plan in order. Silver would arrive first and meet Bruce and his friend. Marinette would arrive later, strike up a one-on-one conversation with Bruce's friend, and spend the night engaging Bruce's friend in conversation so that Silver could flirt with Bruce. Marinette's only concern about the evening was that Bruce's friend would be just as unbearable to talk to as Bruce himself.
The restaurant that Bruce picked out was very fancy, but Marinette didn't mind. It allowed her to wear her new dress, a pale blue and silver creation meant to mimic the shimmering quality of ice. Marinette thought it might be a little too experimental for the old-fashioned Gotham society, but Silver approved of it, and Marinette trusted her friend.
As soon as Marinette walked through the doors her eyes caught sight of Silver's white-blonde hair. Then she noticed Bruce sitting beside her friend, his eyes trained on Silver with an odd intensity. Finally, Marinette noticed Bruce's friend. She was shocked to see that it was Diana, the very woman that Marinette had met at yesterday's gala, the very woman whose introduction was interrupted by the untimely arrival of the Riddler. For a second, Marinette was shocked into stillness. The chaos of the night before had overshadowed her meeting with Diana to the extent that Marinette had forgotten how very charmed she had been by Diana. Now, it seemed Marinette had the perfect opportunity to get to know the charismatic woman from the night before.
"Marinette," the surprise in Diana's tone told Marinette that she was just as blind-sighted by their meeting.
"Hello, Diana. Fancy meeting you here," said Marinette with a smile.
Bruce raised one eyebrow. "I didn't know you two knew each other."
"We met last night," explained Diana. "I wanted to let her knew that you aren't usually so insufferable."
Bruce looked affronted. "I wasn't insufferable."
"You lied about having listened to Kitty Section," piped up Marinette. "There are a lot of valid criticisms of Kitty Section. However, our music being too commercial is not one of them."
Bruce had the decency to look guilty. "I apologize, then. I'll make sure to take the time to give your music a real listen."
For Silver's sake, Marinette was willing to forgive him. "Maybe next time you can give me some real criticism."
Bruce nodded graciously. "I'll do that."
Diana took that moment to bring back up their introduction the night before. "So Marinette, I don't believe we got the chance to finish our introductions last night. I'm Diana Prince, newly a curator at Gotham's Art and History Museum."
"I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former member of Kitty Section, currently taking a soul-searching sabbatical."
"Soul-searching for what?" asked Diana.
"I suppose I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. When I was younger I was so passionate about fashion. I made my own clothes, entered my creations into design contests, spent years creating a portfolio. I'm trying to rediscover that passion."
"Maybe you could show me your designs some time," offered Diana.
"I would like that," agreed Marinette.
"Actually," chimed in Silver, "Marinette made the dress she's wearing right now."
"Really? I would have assumed that it was professionally made. It's a gorgeous dress," praised Diana.
Marinette blushed, a warm fluttery feeling stirring deep within her. The rest of the night passed in a blur, with Marinette hanging on Diana's every word. It was easy to talk to Diana. She was so naturally charming that Marinette couldn't help but enjoy herself. As the evening winded down, Marinette felt only regret that they would have to part so soon.
As Marinette stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a taxi, she felt Diana's hand settle on her shoulder. It had been a while since Marinette had felt such an intimate touch. "I had a nice time talking to you tonight." The feel of Diana's fingers gently trailing down Marinette's arms was almost more than Marinette, touch-starved and hungry for more, could bear.
Marinette smiled. "I did too. I hope to see more of you."
"I'm sure you will." Marinette took comfort in the certainty in Diana's voice.
And in the back of her mind, Marinette began to rethink her policy of never falling in love again. Something about Diana made Marinette think that Luka wouldn't be her last time after all.
And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up
Marinette could not believe he did this. After everything they had been through together, Marinette's one final request to Luka was that he not release a song about their breakup. But there it was, top of the charts, the lead single of Luka's new solo album, Different Cities. And if it wasn't bad enough that Luka broke the only promise she asked him to keep, included in the song was a snippet of the last voicemail she sent to him. She left it for him weeks after they broke up, as an explanation to him, to let him know she was leaving Gotham.
In the last few seconds of the song, Marinette's voice is hesitant as she speaks. "I know that you wanted me to stay so that we could work things out, but I don't think that our relationship is fixable. So I guess I'm calling to tell you that I give up. I'm leaving Paris next Friday. I've already bought the plane ticket. You can't change my mind. Goodbye, Luka."
It was the rawest emotion Marinette had shown since the breakup, and Luka exploited it for his own gain.
Marinette spent the day joylessly deleting emails from various news outlets begging her to tell her side of the story. As if she would give Luka the satisfaction of giving free publicity. Everyone loved drama, so Marinette was going to make her reaction - or lack of reaction, in this case - as boring as possible.
Every time her phone rang, Marinette ignored it. The voicemails started to stack up, and eventually, Marinette found herself going through them one-by-one. One from Alya, letting Marinette know that she was there for her when she wanted to talk. One from Adrien, more joking in tone, trying to cheer Marinette up. One from Ivan, directly threatening to punch Luka in the face if Marinette wanted it (and that was the only voicemail that actually brought her spirits up). One from Juleka, an apology.
In the voicemail, Juleka's voice was rough, like she had been crying. "I'm so sorry, Marinette. I begged Luka not to release it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said- he- he said-" Juleka broke off into a sob, and Marinette couldn't help but sniffle along with her. "I can hardly recognize him anymore. Rose and I aren't on speaking terms with him now. He's no longer my brother."
Marinette wished that she could pick up the phone and tell Juleka that it was okay to forgive Luka, but Marinette couldn't. The wound was still fresh, still bleeding out.
One step forward, one steps back. Two days after Marinette considered the idea of loving again, and she was right back where she started - in too much pain to even consider friendship, let alone love.
Speak of the devil, Marinette's phone rang, Diana's name lighting up on the screen. Part of her wanted to throw her phone across the room and curl up under her blankets. The other parts of her answered the call. "Hello?" spoke Marinette, wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eyes.
"Marinette, are you okay?" Diana's voice was soft. It was the most comforting thing Marinette had ever heard.
"Not really. I can't decide if I want to punch Luka in the face or if it would hurt too much to ever see him again."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Marinette sighed. "I met Luka when I was fourteen. He was my classmate Juleka's older brother. Luka had his own band, so all the girls in our class thought that Luka was so cool, but he mostly ignored us. Then one day his backing vocalist got bronchitis and he needed someone to fill in. I was a soloist for the school chorus, so I volunteered. Luka was hesitant to let me join his band until he heard me sing. He told me I had the voice of an angel. Two days later he kissed me, and I fell in love with him so hard and so fast I didn't have a chance to consider if he was really the one."
Marinette took a deep breath, then continued, "It was a whirlwind after that. We started dating. We started a new band and named it Kitty Section. We started writing songs together. The weird part was, he never asked how I felt about any of it. He never asked me if I wanted to date him, he never asked if I wanted to join the band, he always assumed that I wanted what he wanted."
"And what did you want?" asked Diana.
"Back then, I thought I wanted a future with Luka. Now, I guess I just want to feel passion again. I've felt so empty since I left him."
"You might feel better with some company. Do you want me to come over to your place?"
Marinette looked around at her empty apartment, at the way the shadows filled the room, at the way seemed to lurk in every corner. "Sure."
"You could show me some of those designs you were telling me about the other day," suggested Diana.
Marinette glanced over at her sketchbook, which had laid empty for months. "That sounds good."
As she hung up the phone, Marinette realized that talking to Diana had made her feel a bit better. The knife wound that Luka had left in her heart had begun to close up at the edges. Marinette took a deep breath and picked up her sketchbook. If she wanted to rediscover her passion, she needed to work for it.
Now you hang from my lips, like the Gardens of Babylon
Marinette let out an appreciative noise as Diana re-entered the room, modeling one of Marinette's creations. "Give me a little spin."
Diana turned herself around, letting the red fabric swirl around her legs. Something about the way that the dress looked on Diana made it so much prettier in Marinette's eyes. Suddenly the fabric wasn't just red, it was carmine. The dress wasn't just being worn, it was being modeled. It didn't just move, it flowed. "It's a gorgeous dress," complimented Diana as she looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind her to admire it.
"It is nice, isn't it." Marinette had been so caught up in her head she had forgotten to truly admire her creation. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You should keep it. One of Bruce's charity galas is coming up in a few weeks. You could wear it there."
"I couldn't," protested Diana.
Marinette shook her head. "It looks best on you. I could never pull off such a vibrant shade of red." There was a second part to the sentence that was left unspoken. If Marinette made the dress knowing that it wouldn't look good on her, she must have made it for another reason. She must have made it with Diana in mind.
Diana smiled, seeming to have caught those unspoken words. "Well if I'm going to wear the dress, you'll have to put up with me gushing about how talented you are all night long."
Marinette flushed. "It's no big deal. It's just a dress."
"It's not just a dress. It's your passion." There was truth in Diana's words that Marinette couldn't deny. It was so much more than a dress. It was the passion for design that Diana had helped her rediscover. It was the newfound friendship with Diana that chased away the loneliness and despair that had taken over her life. It was the glimmer of hope for a future with Diana.
Takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me
Diana looked beyond gorgeous in that carmine dress. Marinette could keep her eyes off of her as they mingled around the ballroom. Marinette's dress was nice, made with the same passion that Marinette had in her younger years, but it paled in comparison to Diana. However, Diana made up for this disparity by gleefully explaining that Marinette was the creator of the dress every time it was complimented. By the end of the night, Marinette had spent so much time blushing over compliments that she worried her face would become permanently flushed.
The gala was a complete success for everyone involved. The charity, which happened to benefit Gotham Child Protective Services, raised twice their goal amount. Marinette got to spend time with Diana. Even Silver had spent the night looking very pleased with herself, her hand resting on Bruce's forearm as they walked through the ballroom together.
As the night winded down, Marinette and Diana found themselves walking out of Wayne Manor towards Diana's car. Diana had offered to drive Marinette there and back, and Marinette had eagerly accepted. Marinette hated driving in Gotham, as Gotham was known for its aggressive drivers and high rates of automobile accidents.
Marinette sat down in the passenger seat with a sigh, kicking off her heels. "Tonight was nice."
"It was nice," Diana agreed. "We'll have to attend galas together more often."
"You just want an excuse to get your hands on another one of my dresses," teased Marinette.
Diana laughed. "I wouldn't say no to another dress. But really, Bruce's rich friends are much more bearable when I have someone to make fun of them afterward with."
Marinette shuddered. "And to think I thought that Bruce was bad. His friends are intolerable. I never want to talk about golf again in my life."
The two women chatted as they drove through the dark streets of Gotham, back to Marinette's apartment.
"Thanks for driving me home," said Marinette as the car pulled up in front of her apartment building.
"It was no problem." Diana hesitated, before continuing. "I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."
"Dinner sounds good," Marinette replied, strapping her shoes back on.
"I'm asking for this to be a date." Diana finished.
Marinette looked up at her, surprised. Her friendship with Diana had been so easy that Marinette had forgotten that it could be anything else. She had half a mind to decline, to stay in the familiar, but that little bit of hope in her heart urged Marinette to take a leap of faith and accept. "I would like that. What time will you pick me up?"
Diana smiled, her whole face lighting up. "How does six sound?"
Marinette smiled back, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."
And as Marinette got ready for bed, she realized that all of the sadness that lingered in her heart since the breakup had gone away. All that was left for her to feel was hope for the future.
@maribatmarch-2k21
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summary: you and reggie have always been good friends. being the manager for sunset curve had its perks, one of which included growing close to all the boys. one night reggie lets his feelings for you slip. how will you react?
song: testify
pairings: reggie x reader[platonic] maybe;)
words: 3.3k
warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, swearing, angst, pining, fluff towards the end
a/n: i’m sorry this took so long. i’ve been super busy with school and my motivation hasn’t been the best, but we made it! finally finished testify, so enjoy:) [for plot purposes we’re saying y/n lives in bobby’s house and owns the studio-garage]
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he’s lying awake trying to contemplate what this all means. he’s known how he’s felt for so long and yet he can never find the right words to say to you. you always manage to steal his breath away by barely doing anything. you walk into a room, his face lights up and suddenly his palms are sweaty. he’s amazed with the way you speak. it’s as if silk were a sound and it were projecting from your lips.
your lips.
what he’d do just to get a taste, a feel. the poor boy has dreamt of the way they’d fit perfectly against his. he’d imagine the way you’d move in sync with him. it all felt so real and yet he knew if he never built up the courage to talk to you, he wouldn’t get the chance to make those dreams realities.
++++
“luke!” you called, crossing the cramped studio towards the lead singer. he was shouting over the music to a girl who practically clung to his arm. you watched as she batted her eyelashes and took another sip from her red solo cup. “luke!”
you reached the pair, earning a pointed glare from the petite girl. luke hesitantly looked at you, guilt already painting his features.
“can i help you, sweetheart?” she took a step forward, clearly bothered that you interrupted her conversation.
“find someone else to bother, babe.” you roughly grabbed luke’s hand, leading him towards a less crowded area. he gave the girl an apologetic wave before she stormed off towards the drinks table.
“she was really pretty, y/n.” luke groaned, tossing his cup into a nearby bin.
“luke, you said this was only going to be a few people! do you know how big of a mess i’m going to have to clean up? my parents are going to be up my ass when they come home!”
“calm down, y/l/n. have a little fun, get a little drunk! the boys and i will help clean up. scouts honor!”
“you were never a scout- you know what? fine! this is yours to deal with. i may be your official manager, but i’m not your babysitter! have fun with this one, patterson.” and with that you made your way over to a cooler, pulling out a bottle of some fruity drink.
reggie spotted you from a few feet away, his beer abandoned in a corner of the studio. it wasn’t his fault you stole the show wherever you went- even if he was the only one in the audience. his eyes were glued to you and that was how it was. you were completely oblivious to his infatuation with you. that’s how it’s been for years.
the boy watched as you made your way over to alex. he ogled at the way your lips met the rim of the glass bottle, delicately sipping at the liquid.
as you approached the boy in the pink hoodie, his eyes traveled far behind you. they met reggie’s, catching his stare. alex smirked knowingly and nodded to his band mate. reggie hesitated slightly before walking away to grab another beer.
a little liquid luck never hurt anybody. right?
“hey, alex.” you greeted, tilting the bottle back once more. “i thought you weren’t a ‘party person’.”
“i’m not.” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing around the room again.
the studio wasn’t terribly big. normally there was room for your piano, the band’s gear, and a couple couches. sure there was an empty area and a loft, but you never intended to have more than ten people in it at once.
luke’s “small gathering” had turned into a large house party and your poor studio had people so close, they were bumping shoulders. cups were tipped on the floor, bottles strewn about, your mother’s plants pushed to one corner, speakers in the middle of the room blaring some jumbled rock song.
a mess.
“i really only came for luke. he said it was gonna be fun, but i wasn’t expecting so many people.” alex leaned down so you would be able to hear him better.
“yeah.” you rolled your eyes, recalling the conversation you just had with the guitarist. “didn’t really give any of us a heads up. do you wanna-”
a loud crash from across the studio cut you off. in the direction of it, a mixture of cheers and laughs erupted.
with a groan of frustration, you politely excused yourself from the drummer. he flashed you a sympathetic smile as you downed the rest of your drink and walked off.
“hey, man!” reggie took your place next to alex, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke to his bandmate.
alex waved a hand in front of reggie’s face, snapping his fingers a couple times. he chuckled once the bassist finally looked up at him with reddening cheeks.
“if you didn’t want to talk to me, you could have just said so.” alex laughed.
“no- no, i’m sorry.” reggie cleared his throat, taking another sip from his bottle, before continuing. “just a little...”
“distracted?” the boy in the flannel nodded sheepishly. “dude, you have to tell her.”
“you know i can’t do that.”
“why not? everyone sees the way you look at her! it’s better to tell her than to keep it to yourself for another three years.”
reggie took a deep breath. his eyes scanned the crowd in search of you. he watched as you shooed people away from a broken vase- one of your mother’s. you delicately picked up shards of glass, careful not to cut yourself.
“i just don’t want to ruin things with her.” the boy finally exhaled.
“well then at least go help her clean up.” alex’s eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief as he shoved his bandmate in your direction.
reggie stumbled towards you, instinctively smoothing out his jacket. your eyes lit up when the boy reached you. he offered his help and even after you insisted this was your mess to clean up, he stayed and helped you sweep. it was sweet; the gesture. to you it was just a friend helping another friend, but to him, every lingering touch sent a million questions to his mind; was that on purpose? why is she looking at me like that? does she feel the same?
to any onlookers, they’d see the way his cheeks flushed each time your hands accidentally brushed or when you moved to sweep a fallen strand of hair out of your face. reggie was infatuated by you and everyone saw it except you.
“thanks again, reg.” a smile stretched across your face as you tossed the last shards of glass into the bin. reggie had just walked back outside to you with two drinks in his hands; the same fruity drink you had earlier and another beer. “how’d you know these are my favorite?”
“had a hunch.” his cheeks were tinged that familiar pink color, grateful the darkness was there to hide it from your view.
“we should probably get back in there before something else breaks, huh?” you tipped the bottle back, taking another long sip from the sweet drink. as much as you hated the feeling of being drunk and what was to come after, you needed all the liquid courage this bottle had to offer.
reggie tilted his own bottle back, mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but only one that really stood out. for him, it was now or never. the atmosphere was right, there were no distractions- if he didn’t do it now, he’d be kicking himself forever.
i’m losing control now that the alcohol hits my blood flow.
“y/n?” you turned around, walking back towards the bassist.
“everything alright, reggie?” you placed a hand on his shoulder. concern evident in your eyes as you looked up at the flustered boy.
didn’t want to address this, but i really thought that you should know.
“can i tell you something?”
the conversation was short. nothing much said, at least not on your part. it was him who spilled his entire being into one breath. his words hit you quickly, the loud music almost drowning them out entirely. reggie watched as your face fell. you attempted to mask your discomfort with a shy smile; one he knew all too well. it was the same look you’d given so many others before. it was all out there now. his feelings for you, the ones he’d been hiding since he first met the bright, bubbly girl. he’d fallen instantly. now he stood, drink in hand, watching as you walked away. you didn’t feel the same and he knew you never would. his mind ran through everything he could have said to persuade you. “life gets so black and white when i look in your eyes. girl, you just simplify, you make wrong seem so right, turn dark into light.” he’d lost his chance and there was nothing he could do to get it back. if only he’d been better, more charming, would you have felt the same?
++++
he drank that night. reggie tipped bottles back like there was no tomorrow. he drank and drank and drank for the next two weeks.
he knew it was a bad idea- telling you- and yet he did it anyway. alex had suggested it, but it wasn’t his fault. he’d been wanting to do it since before he could remember. it just hurt that you finally knew...and didn’t feel the same.
reggie started skipping band practice. he knew you’d be there, going over gigs you were looking for or just to provide feedback. he couldn’t look you in the eyes without being swarmed with those feelings again. nothing would change for him and he knew that. seeing you there would only make things worse.
the doubt was what ate at him. why wasn’t he good enough? was it something he said? did? there was nothing wrong with you- hell, you were perfect to him- so it had to be something with him, right?
i’ve made a mistake, but this is a whole new kind of rejection.
he could have spoken differently? if he controlled the nerves in his voice he would’ve seemed more put together. what if he said something smoother?
come over here slowly, come get to know my body. got me breaking a sweat ‘cause this is a whole new kind of neglection.
he wouldn’t call it neglect. if anything he was the one avoiding you. it was only after he came back to band practice a month later when he saw it.
you were the only one not to greet him when he walked into the studio last wednesday. reggie didn’t blame you. it was only fair you were a little uncomfortable around him now that you knew it all. so he didn’t mind when you ignored him today.
band practice had started the same as any other day. luke had written a new song and was eager to show you all. alex picked up his parts quickly, reggie was a little distracted, but tried his best to follow along, and you sat on the couch across the room flipping through newspapers and magazines in search of a place that needed an opening band.
“what do you think, y/n?” luke asked, strumming his final chord before placing his guitar back in it’s stand. “stage-worthy?”
“a little choppy on the bass, but otherwise not bad.” you looked up at the boys.
luke, bobby, and alex laughed at your quip, but reggie’s face resembled something of a poorly hidden scowl. in his mind your remark was nothing short of jab back at him. is it bad that he was the slightest bit relieved you even addressed him?
it felt like it had been years since he saw your smile let alone pointed in his direction.
“you heard the girl! pick it up, peters!”
“shut it, luke.” reggie swung his bass back around, ready to play. he glanced quickly up at you to see your eyes already on him. a soft smile rested on your lips as you ducked your head back down to your work.
reggie felt those familiar butterflies arise in him. you still managed to steal his heart even after breaking it.
that’s gotta hurt.
++++
i’m missing you, do you miss me too? i’m missing all your cues ‘cause baby, it’s hot in here and i’m filled with fear, ‘cause i know you don’t like to lose.
“i miss her.” reggie slumped down in his seat, shuffling his shoes gently on the pine floor.
“dude she literally just said she couldn’t make it to bowling.” bobby walked towards his sulking bandmate. he had just completed a turn and glanced back to see the last three pins fall.
it was alex’s go. on his way to the rack of multicolored bowling balls, he patted bobby on the back as a ‘congrats, man!’
“i don’t just mean tonight. after i told her and- and after i ghosted you guys for a couple weeks- sorry about that by the way.” luke dismissively waved him off, nodding for him to continue. “she’s been ignoring me. at first she would at least smile at me, but now she won’t even look in my direction. i know i messed up, but this is just confusing.”
the boys had decided to relax this friday night. after having practice everyday this week and working nonstop, a celebratory pizza and bowling night seemed appropriate. you had actually suggested the small bowling alley a couple towns over for the boys to go. they insisted you come along, but you had already made plans.
they weren’t the only ones with a busy schedule. between managing the band, work, school, and maintaining your own personal relationships, you needed a break. friday was the only night you had free, so you made the most of it. bowling could wait.
“she’s been distancing herself from us too, reggie. not just you.” luke admitted.
“girls are just confusing, man.” reggie looked up at bobby. he tried his hardest to smile along with his friend, but all that was on his mind was you.
he didn’t realize how much it hurt not having you there. it was in that moment when reggie decided keeping you as a friend, would mean he at least kept you in his life. even if your feelings for him never changed, not having you around was worse than losing you.
++++
“is she actually gonna show?”
“dude, why wouldn’t she?” luke and bobby murmured between themselves.
sunset curve stood backstage, tuning their instruments in preparation for their performance. you had spent a couple weeks trying to book this gig. through your hectic schedule you had spent little time at the studio with the boys, but you were still able to ‘work your magic’ -as luke would say- and get them a spot playing at a club.
they were obviously grateful, but seeing as they hardly saw you, they weren’t able to express it. regardless of them practicing in your garage, your time was exhausted running between your work and school.
now you stood front row at the club, waiting for their band- your band- to be announced on stage. little did you know, reggie had been pacing back and forth hoping you’d show. the look on his face once he caught sight of you was one you drilled into your mind.
it was pure joy.
the boys all gave the crowd a quick scan as they reached their instruments. almost at once they all saw you and smiled. their teeth weren’t showing nearly as much as reggie’s, but you could tell they were all ecstatic to see you nonetheless.
to say the performance went smoothly was an understatement. to you, they did phenomenally. it was not only the crowd’s first time hearing some of the songs, but yours as well. the boys were flawless and they knew it. you could practically see the energy radiating off of them as they took their bows.
you took no time in rushing past the crowd to the backstage, waiting eagerly to congratulate the boys.
“you came!” reggie practically leapt off the stage and into your arms.
“good to see you too, peters-” you choked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
“let the poor girl breathe!” bobby chuckled, following the rest of the boys down the steps.
reggie quickly released you, muttering a sequence of apologies. his cheeks burned a bright pink as he finally met your eyes. there was a sort of twinkle he noticed. he couldn’t quite place it as he was blocked from your view, but he saw it nonetheless.
“you guys did amazing up there.” you smiled at the rest of the band. they all took their turn wrapping you up in sweaty hugs.
“no thanks to our amazing manager!” alex cheered.
an assortment of ‘here here’s’ and ‘cheers’ erupted from the boys. they paraded around you, talking over each other as they relived their time on stage from just moments ago.
“celebratory pizza?” luke jumped in question, arms waving towards the door.
“i’m down!”
“you guys comin?” alex nodded towards you and reggie. the two of you stepping away from the group subconsciously.
“we’ll be there in a bit. can i talk to you for a sec, reg?” the three guys behind you exchanged a set of looks. each raising their eyebrows higher than the next. alex was quick to push his bandmates out the door to give the two of you some privacy.
you couldn’t help the blush that crept onto your cheeks as you looked back at reggie. he too had a thin layer of pink dusting his cheeks. the two of you stood for a moment, neither speaking. the seconds between the boys leaving and your first words felt like an eternity.
you shifted from foot to foot, trying to find the right words.
“i just wanted to say-” you started.
“i’m sorry!” the two of you blurted out in unison.
“you first.” you giggled, ducking your head as the boy in front of you stuttered his words.
“ok, ok. i’m sorry for springing all of that onto you a couple months ago and then ditching the band while i drank away my petty feelings. it was pretty shitty- i mean being rejected is pretty shitty too, but the way i reacted was bad. it just hurt because i’ve liked you for so long and when you said you didn’t feel the same, i didn’t know what to do so i hid and-” reggie rambled and only paused to take a breath. you took the opportunity to pipe up.
“reggie...i need to apologize, too. i could have had an actual conversation instead of walking away from you-”
“no!” reggie bounced forward slightly, making you stumble back in laughter. “i mean...your reaction was valid. you probably weren’t expecting it all. you not feeling the same shouldn’t have changed our relationship and i realized that all recently. i’d much rather have you as my manager and friend than lose you completely. so…y/n-” reggie stepped forward again, reaching for your hands. you nervously laced your fingers with his, looking up as he continued on with his dramatic speech. “y/n, will you do me the honor of being my friend?”
you couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. reggie was sincere and you could see that. he didn’t want to lose you and even if it was only a month of you two hardly seeing each other, he knew he didn’t want you out of his life.
“reggie…?” your tone scared him. reggie’s eyebrows raised slightly at your sudden seriousness. were you going to leave him right then and there? would you not want to be his friend anymore?
“what if your feelings weren’t all one sided anymore?”
++++
tagged: @caitsymichelle13 @poppin-peters @shmaptainshada @mystic-writings @fantomlovescharliegillespie4ever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mnmdancin12 @annoyinglyseverehottub @peeurpantsbitch @artificialsweetener15
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#we three#one shot#writing#short story#julie and the phantoms#julie and the phat ones#sunset curve#julie molina#reggie peters#luke patterson#bobby wilson#alex mercer#jatp#jatp fic#reggie peters fic#reggie peters x reader#reggie peters x y/n
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tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.
insp for the song she plays at the end.
BEFORE.
luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.
she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.
she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘ my sat scores were no where near the average, ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.
‘ god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge. ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.
she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.
PRESENT-ISH.
luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.
SUMMER.
she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.
INTERLUDE
she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.
i miss you. missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x
she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.
***
‘ i don't know how to miss you in the right way, ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘ it hurts. ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.
SOMETIME, SOME DAY.
she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘ you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough. ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.
she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.
#mb i will fill in the summer section one day but :3 Bt jst had 2 get this para out here twas growing mold :sob:#dunno if anybodys home bt jst want to reiterate what a pleasure its been 2 write w u all n tysm :')
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Danse Macabre
Finally! After so many days of writing, I have finally finished my biggest fanfic yet! It's another Phantom x Peach fanfic and it is a bit of a sequel to my previous one "Encore at Midnight". I had this really cool story concept for a little while and I felt like I just could not do anything else unless I write it down. It was a bit of an experiment since I had to do a little bit of research just to pull some things off (however, it is far from perfect, so please forgive me). Also, I have officially made some OCs for this fanfic, yay! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy what I have created!
Number of Pages: 17
Word Count: 9358
[Content includes: Themes of Death/Mortality and Some Suggestiveness (not smut though!), OC “Death”, Graphic Body Horror, and Slight Profanity]
For @salamifuposey, @kindpopstar, @jawaii-chan, and everyone else who wants to read this fanfic!
____________________________________________________________
My Dearest Princess,
Forgive my absence these past few days. I have been preparing the final touches in my newest masterpiece, and I have been dying to show you what I have created. It is something I have not done before; consider it an experiment of sorts. My excitement cannot be contained any longer! Tonight, I invite you to a performance unlike anything you have seen before. I have arranged a carriage to arrive at your castle at around midnight. It will take you to Spooky Trails, where I have made refuge, and you will be accompanied along the way. She will be your guide, and I assure you she will not lead you astray. I pray you receive this letter and that you accept the invitation.
Your Humble Host,
P
---
Princess Peach reads and rereads the letter. So many questions run through her mind. What does he mean by “experiment”? What kind of performance will this be? And who is this guide? She looks up from the letter, and across from her is an unfamiliar face. Sitting across from her is a woman looking out of the carriage window, admiring the night sky. Or, at least it seems like she is, for the bright reflection on her tea shades completely covered her eyes. Her guide is abnormally slender and taller than her, however she could not tell exactly how much. Her alabaster skin pops in contrast of her dark attire, which consists of a frilly ivory blouse and high-low trail skirt, a velvet violet corset, leather pants, and a long onyx black coat embellished with jewels. Her frizzy, unkept silver hair is pulled up into two buns with small strands of hair shimmering like a diamond. Peach had never seen anyone quite like her before; it’s like she came from another world entirely. The guide turns her attention from the view towards Peach and smiles. Peach averts her eyes and looks towards the window – it was rude to stare, especially at a stranger. “So, you must be the one my master has been interested in all this time? He has told me so much about you.”, the guide spoke. Peach brings her attention back towards the guide. “I am, miss.”, she responds, “And, he has?”
“Oh yes! He is simply infatuated with you! I dare say, obsessed, even. And now that I have a chance to see you up close, I can definitely see why.”
“Infatuated is a good word to describe him. He has shown his affection quite often since our first reunion.”
“Has he now?”
“Mm-hmm. He’s been nothing but a gentleman towards me, even if he does get pretty… excitable from time to time.”
“Consider yourself lucky, your highness. Having an enthusiastic partner makes the relationship a lot more interesting!”
“Well, yes, I agree… I- um…”
“Is there something wrong?”
“Phantom and I have only met a little while now; almost a month I believe. I’m not sure if I want to start referring to him as my partner.”
“Just yet, you mean?”
“Oh, please don’t get me wrong, I do like him! I just like to… take things a little slow.”
“Ah, I see. I completely understand. You want to get to know him a little bit more before you make any decisions. A rather smart move on your part.”
“Exactly.”
“Don’t tell anyone this, but my master isn’t one to do such a thing. That is not to say he’s completely reckless, but whenever there’s something – or someone – he’s interested in, he becomes determined. Stubborn even. And personally, it is not his best quality sometimes. It makes him look like a moron. A blind one at that.”
“I guess you can say he becomes inspired. Phantom is an artist, after all. Art is meant to invoke emotion, no matter the medium. It would make sense that he himself is the same way.”
“Insightful! And right you are.”
“Not to mention, Phantom is an opera singer. Opera, of course, is highly emotional and very dramatic, and so is he.”
“That too. I know this might be a personal question, but your first reunion with my master…”
“Yes?”
“What happened that night? I ask because I remember seeing him wallowing in shame after his trip over to the Mushroom Kingdom. When he returned, he threw himself onto his fainting couch, murmuring curses, almost about to cry.”
“Oh my! Well, Phantom was in the ballroom inside my castle that night. He was singing this beautiful melody. When I found him, we talked for a bit and discovered we both have something in common.”
“And what would that be?”
“Companionship.”
“Ah…”
“As we talked, he told me about his life after that battle at Spooky Trails a few years ago. He was so lonely, unable to find friends to call his own. Soon he became… anxious. I cannot describe exactly what came over him, but it was obvious he was in pain. Then, his eyes turned red, and suddenly darkness. I fainted.”
The guide stares at Peach, her mouth slightly agape. Although her tea shades cover her eyes, her expression is readable. It is a look of shock – that look of knowing exactly what had just happened with Phantom on that very night. She sighs, “I see. That is not the first time he has done that. My master can be terrifying when he has his moments.”
“Everything was just so overwhelming. I was scared, yes, but afterwards I was more concerned of his well-being. I cannot bear to see someone in pain; being alone can take a toll on anyone… Oh, that poor thing! He must’ve thought that he harmed me when I fainted!” Peach exclaimed. Silence takes over the conversation. Peach’s eyes wander towards the carriage floor while the guide’s attention never breaks. Her eyebrows furrowed, Peach fidgets with her gloves. The guide adjusts her position, leaning over towards the worried princess. She reaches out and holds her hand; Peach stops fidgeting. “I’m glad that you care about him, your highness. Very few do.” she gently smiles, “There have been many times I believed that the only people who care about him is me and the others.”
“The others?”, Peach asks.
“The rest of my master’s theatre troupe. Just like him, we are all one with music.”
“…may I ask what is your name?
“My name? Oh-! my name, how could I forget my manners? How rude of me! I am Dolores, your highness.”
“And if I may ask as well, if you don’t mind, where do you come from?”
Before Dolores has a chance to answer, a flash of shadows sped by the carriage. Dolores motions towards the window, her head peeking out, looking over the view. Her pearl white teeth shows as she grins from ear to ear. “We’re almost there! Ah, soon you will experience the greatest show yet, Princess Peach!”, she exclaims with glee. Peach takes a look at her window. Memories flooded her mind like a rushing river coursing through the barren earth. Spooky Trails.She remembers now; it was all coming back to her. This was all leading to the very location where her battle with Phantom took place. She, alongside Mario, Luigi, and a few Rabbids, witnessed Phantom’s creation and fought him as he flaunted about on the old, decrepit stage. To think, he was an almost entirely different person. Phantom wasn’t as gentlemanly as he is as of recently, but since their first reunion, he has been wanting things to change.
He wants her. Her heart. Her soul. Her beauty. Everything.
To think it has come to this. To think the princess, who has been known for being saved by her plumber in shining armor and being in love with him, would fall for such a character. But has she truly fallen for Phantom? Or is it all just nonsense? If it was just nonsense, then why would she accept the invitation? Peach takes in the environment as the carriage rolls across the cobblestone path, driving through the dead trees and the old, seemingly abandoned village. Despite having never returned after the battle, Peach regains her memories of Spooky Trails, almost to the point of knowing exactly where Phantom resides. Dolores returns to her position, her shining grin still on her face. Peach turns her attention back at Dolores and asks, “What was the inspiration behind this performance?”
“I would tell you, but it would ruin the surprise! My master has ordered all of us to never reveal his masterpiece until it is time.” Dolores answers.
“Oh…”
“All I can say is that this is no ordinary performance. My master is quite the visionary, you know!”
“Very well, then. I won’t ask any more questions, if it’s going to ruin the surprise.”
“Are you excited, your highness?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not often that I get invited to such events.”
“Really? But you’re royalty! I thought you would be invited to all sorts of performances.”
“I do, but it just doesn’t happen that often, and I honestly don’t know why. I adore the theater!”
“We all do too. Our lifestyle is nothing but the theater… quite literally!”
“Gosh, that must be so wonderful, to be part of a theatre troupe. To perform for all to see, to entertain others through amazing plays! I’ve always wished to join when I was a little girl.”
“Oh! Would you look at that! We’ve finally arrived!”
After what it seemed like more than an hour, the carriage, at long last, finally stops. Dolores gets up from her seat, slowly crawling her way out of the carriage. Her elongated body almost struggles through the small door, but she succeeds with grace. She then offers her hand to Peach with a softer smile, “Your midnight show awaits, Princess Peach…” Taking Dolores’ hand, Peach steps out of the carriage and immediately she is greeted by a massive silver gate. The very gate that stands guard the entrance to Phantom’s stage. It is beautifully sculpted, shaped into swirls and patterns holding up an illuminating full moon, with two music notes placed on each side as the borders. Yes, Peach remembers now. Dolores walks up to the gate and peers through it. She waves at something or something – Peach could not tell – and opens it, allowing themselves to enter. Peach follows behind. She didn’t know how tall Dolores was when they were in the carriage, but now she could get a good look at her stature. Dolores was tall – taller than any human she has ever seen before. If Peach could guess, her guide was three to four (maybe five!)feet taller than her and was practically towering over her. Ever since they met, she had this feeling of uneasiness. Who is this woman? What is this woman? Where did she come from? So many questions. There was something off about Dolores, and it wasn’t necessarily her abnormal physique. There was something, but Peach couldn’t put her finger on it. Whatever it was…. Perhaps she doesn’t need to worry too much about it.
Approaching the decrepit stage, the two ladies are met by a small man wielding a large, glowing lantern. This man is the opposite of Dolores in terms of height and physique. He is a short and stout dwarf, donning a regal yellow robe over his slightly mismatched clothes. The light emanating from the lantern reveals his nicely trimmed beard, his long, curly chocolate brown hair tied back into a ponytail, his fluorescent amber eyes giving them a warm welcome. His smile grew bigger once Dolores waves again; he waves back. “Dolores, there you are! And you brought our special guest! Wunderbar! It is a pleasure to meet you, eure hoheit.”, the dwarf greets them, bowing in courtesy. “Are the others ready, Stefan?”, Dolores asks.
“We’ve been ready for a while now. Just making sure everything is perfect for tonight.”
“And what about our master?”
“He will not show his face. In fact, he wants me to tell you that no one must see him until he has shown himself to us all.”
“Ah, well that makes things interesting.”
“I agree. Anyway, enough chit chat! Let us proceed! We must not keep our master’s little freundin waiting.”
“Por favor, Stefan! Don’t tease… that’s my job.”
Stefan chuckles as he ushers them to go into the stage. Dolores follows Stefan, and Peach follows Dolores. They all walk deeper through the torn platform and dusty curtains. Damaged props, broken wires, hanging ropes, and mangy fabrics scatter the place. The further deeper they went, the larger the backstage seems to be. Peach looks in awe as she continues to follow her guides. Who knew that this abandoned stage held such secrets? After a few minutes of walking, Stefan places his lantern on the floor, lighting up the entire floor, and begins to crawl on his hands and knees. His fingers trace the nooks and crannies of the floorboards, mumbling to himself. He searches until he finds a small hole and grabs it. The hole turns out to be a handle, and Stefan pulls and lifts up the floorboards. He reveals a decent sized door leading to a much darker pathway – a long stone stairway stretching far into a secret tunnel. Stefan’s lantern gave light to the darkness, making the trip down into the underground refuge much less intimidating. Dolores holds Peach’s hand as they go down the stairs. This was such an odd way of attending a performance. Peach could not imagine what kind of performance involves having to venture underground in order to see it. What could she possibly expect from all of this? Part of her mind began screaming for help, pleading to go back to the Mushroom Kingdom. Part of her mind wanted normalcy, no surprises. It wanted her to stop and return to her chamber, to her castle, to Mario and her friends. However, the other part was curious. It was that familiar curiosity – the same curiosity she had when first reunited with Phantom. She could never forget that night. Never in a lifetime. Everything about him, whether it be music or shadow, is just so…. Alluring.
Alluring… Beguiling… Captivating… Enchanting…
Her mind finally gives in. She goes for the latter. How could she not? She has ventured too deep into this tunnel to start leaving. For once, she is able to take a break from her royal duties. To forget her troubles. To finally experience something new. For once. As for curiosity, she was more concerned about Phantom. Why would he not allow anyone to see him? Of course, it must be for the performance, but what exactly does Phantom have in store? The more Peach thought about him, the more impatient she became. Phantom. Oh, where are you, Phantom? Her mind falls into that familiar trance. She wants to see him again. She wants to hear him again. Perhaps Peach has become just as obsessed as he is with her. This must be an addiction. It must be. If it wasn’t, then she would never be where she is right now. Whether it be curiosity, obsession, or madness, Peach will continue to walk into shadow if it meant she will meet her friend again. Stefan, Dolores, and Peach finally reach the end of the tunnel, finding a wooden door decorated with gold etchings, which looked out of place amongst the cobweb-shrouded stone walls. With a strong push, Stefan enters through, allowing the door to creak wide open. Behind the door is a humongous hallway, adorned from wall to wall with a vast multitude of paintings, flyers and posters of plays and musicals, candles, and curtains. To think a dusty tunnel would lead to a beautiful makeshift palace! It’s like discovering a treasure chest inside of a dank, murky swamp. Is this where Phantom was residing all these years? Peach gasps. Dolores turns around and smiles, “Welcome to our humble abode, your highness. In this place, music is our lifeforce. We eat, we drink, we breathe, we sleep in music. Just like our master, we are not only creators of art – we are art itself. And tonight, we shall once again breathe life into another masterpiece. I cannot describe how immensely happy we all are. We are so glad that you accepted our master’s invitation, you will not regret it! Now, come along with me, let us go into the Ladies’ Dressing Room. Natasha has designed a wonderful costume for you to wear, and Ophelia will help you with your hair and makeup. I assure you they will make you absolutely gorgeous. Of course, that is not to say you’re not already beautiful.”
Stefan leaves the two ladies and heads towards the Gentlemen’s Dressing Room, which is across from the Ladies’ Dressing Room to the left, placing the lantern onto an iron hook built into the wall. “Well, I’m going to get myself ready and meet up with the others. I’ll see you all at the Gallery! Bis bald!”, he says as he closes the door. Dolores enters through the door to the right and holds it open for Peach to walk into the room. There sitting inside are twin sisters, both garbed in fine, flowy silk and chiffon gowns, working on their latest projects. To the left is a somber young lady sitting near a vanity, dressed all in Aegean and periwinkle blue, her pale pink hair intertwined into exquisite dreadlocks that reaches down to her shoulders. Wrapped around her head is a flower crown composed of lavender, Baby’s Breath, Fairy Foxgloves, and Forget-Me-Nots. To the right is a cheery young lady wearing a similar gown but in shades of fuchsia and rose, checking over the details of an extravagant costume, which is porcelain and peach in color. Her pale blue hair is also made of dreadlocks, as well as composed with the same flowers with the addition of small vines, but is pinned up into a lovely cornrow braided bun. The twin in pink looks up from her work and gasps, “Dolores, you’re back! And the princess is here! Ophelia, look! They’re here!” Ophelia turns around, her saddened expression softening into a weak smile, “Oh, hello again. And it’s nice to finally meet you, your highness.”
Dolores greets them back, turning her attention back to Natasha’s project, “Is the costume ready?”
“Yes, it is! I was just making sure everything’s perfect!”
“It looks amazing! Buen Trabajo!”
“Aww, thank you!”
“Alright, now we must hurry. I need to be in costume. I’ll meet you all in the Gallery, and don’t dottle please.”
“Don’t worry, Dolores, we’ll be ready as soon as possible.”
Dolores leaves Peach with Natasha and Ophelia, entering through a darkened room to get ready for the performance. Once she leaves, Peach witnesses what is perhaps the most amazing thing she has ever seen. The speed in which Natasha and Ophelia got her ready for the performance was astounding. What should have lasted for about a few hours or so ended up lasted for a few mere minutes! No human possesses this level of speed, especially with makeup. Any makeup artist would take their time getting every detail right. There would be no possible way anyone could apply eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, concealer, lipstick, and every other detail really fast without messing up. But Ophelia proved that such an ability was possible. Natasha was no different. She helped Peach get into the extravagant costume without any struggle at all, as it fit perfectly onto her frame. How did she get her size just right? And it’s so comfortable too! “And… done! Oh, look at you! You are just beautiful, your highness! Don’t you think so, Ophelia?”, Natasha exclaims happily, proud of her job well done. “Oh yes, I agree…”, Ophelia smiles weakly again. Peach looks over to a nearby mirror. They were right; she is beautiful. Perhaps even more so, she thinks to herself, for she had never worn anything like this before. It is true that, being of royal blood, she is accustomed to an extremely elaborate (and expensive) wardrobe. But this… this is different from any other dress. It is a ballroom gown, completely encrusted with diamonds and pearls, with lovely black roses making a long trail from her waist down to the skirt. The white skirt is massive, flowing down towards the floor like a mass of billowing fog. Her shoulders and bosom are exposed completely, giving room for a glistening choker made of the same jewels. Her hair is done up in a high bun, lightly sprinkled with silver glitter, and tied together with another black rose.
She looks heavenly. Like an angel.
With everything all set and done, Natasha and Dolores begin preparing themselves. As they do, Ophelia pauses for a moment. “Oh, your highness! I almost forgot something. Before we go, our master wanted me to give you this.”, Ophelia says, handing her a small card. It reads: For the Princess. Before heading back to primp herself, her expression slowly turns gloomy, barely keeping up with her smile, “You are so lucky to be chosen…” Peach turns over the card as she waits for the twins to get ready and continues to read:
Tonight’s performance is a one-of-a-kind experience. You, my dear, will not only be the audience, but also part of the story! Everything and everyone around you will be interactive, so please do not be shy. Converse with your newly found friends! Eat, drink, dance with your heart’s content! And please, do not wait for me. I hope you enjoy my masterpiece.
- P
Ah ha! So, this is what Phantom’s performance is! It is a role-playing experience, and based on what the card says, it must be a party he’s hosting. What delightful news! Although, Peach must admit that she has never role-played before, especially in something like this. But wait – didn’t she say to Dolores earlier that being part of the theatre was her childhood dream? Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try out her acting skills! Peach beams. She could not believe Phantom would make something like this. Whatever this role-playing party entails, she thinks to herself, she’s going to do the best she can. “We’re ready!” Natasha exclaims in a sing-song tone, “Are you ready, Ophelia?” Ophelia nods. Natasha excitedly takes both her and Peach’s hands, leading them out of the Ladies’ Dressing Room and into the Gallery. Peach almost could not keep up with the twins, for they have remarkable speed, as shown by their natural talents on makeup and costuming. How fast can could they possible go? If this is how fast they can walk, then how fast can they run? Natasha’s ecstatic giggling echoes through the hallway, and with every step they take, the upbeat tempo of music could be heard from behind the Gallery doors. The closer they went, the louder it became. The melody drifts in the air like a calm perfume for the ears, capturing Peach’s attention with its harmonious essence. A delicious delicacy for the senses. Just like Phantom’s voice. He must have composed this melody, for there is no way Peach could have been so immersed and entranced by its sound if it wasn’t. The three ladies approach the Gallery doors, the music muffled behind them. Natasha takes a glance back at Peach and Ophelia, unable to contain her excitement anymore.
She pushes the doors wide open.
What words could possibly describe the sheer extravagance of the Gallery? To think that all of this is completely underground! To think Phantom created this gargantuan chamber, big enough for him and perhaps one hundred guests! Maybe even more than that. Peach could tell, just by admiring the Gallery, Phantom is quite the fan of marble, silver, and velvet. Marble floors and pillars framing the chamber and silver-framed mirrors and portraits decorate the walls. Deep black velvet curtains cascade from the middle of the ceiling and down towards the floor, giving the appearance of one massive Bohemian tent. In the middle hangs a glamourous jeweled chandelier, giving a dim light to the darkness. Looking around, Peach notices there are seven rooms divided by the curtains, each one color-coded, with three rooms on both towards the left and right. To the left are the colors blue, purple, and green, and to the right are orange, white, and violet. The seventh room is located right in front of the ladies, right across from the Gallery entrance. Inside is completely shrouded in shades of red – wine, scarlet, crimson, garnet – and there sits in a shiny throne a crowned gentleman – a prince – with a glass of Amontillado in his hand. His wavy, champagne blonde hair falls delicately around his party mask and square facial structure. His rosy lips gently purse as he raises his glass to drink. He is accompanied by two other women, who are garbed to the nines in the richest finery, blushing and laughing amongst themselves. Every now and then, the prince would turn to one of them and whisper in their ear, making their faces turn into deeper shades of red. As Peach follows Natasha and Ophelia, she finds more guests, all conversing amongst one another in the color-coded rooms. The costumes they wear are vibrant in color and theme, ranging from jesters, to creatures, to knights, to fairies and pixies. These guests, including the prince himself, must all be part of Phantom’s theatre troupe. Peach begins to count: one… two… four… six… nine… eleven. Eleven members of the troupe. She wonders if there are any more, considering how large the Gallery is.
The prince turns his attention suddenly towards Peach, and so do the two women. Soon, almost everyone begins to stop for a moment and do the same. Simultaneously, Natasha and Ophelia bow, gesturing to Peach, “My Lord, we have brought you your special guest, Princess Morrigan of the Stygian Border.” The prince sets down his glass on a nearby silver platter, and stands right up from his throne, adjusting his vest and coat. “C’est magnifique, my loyal subjects! Now the masquerade can truly begin! Come, come! The night is young, gather around everyone! Let us celebrate all of our blessings and forget our grievances!” he declared, “May we prosper in these trying times, and may we never run out of wine to drink.” The crowd laughs and cheers, some of them raising their own glasses. He turns to Peach, his eyes wandering up and down, and smirks, “My, my… Enchantee, your highness. I must say, you look… ravishing tonight. I am Prince Fortunato, at your service. Why don’t you join me, my dear, in the Red Room? Surely, we can have some… fun together, what do you say?” Greeting her, Prince Fortunato places a soft kiss on her hand, his emerald eyes admiring her beauty. Or perhaps something else. Although Peach has to be polite, she immediately had no interest in him. Too cocky, she thinks to herself, too full of himself. It reminds her too much of Bowser. Then again, Phantom was that way, too, at least in the past. But she learned that he was not licentious. He never looked anywhere else but into her eyes. He never searched for anything other than her eyes. He ever seemed like he was after a particular goal other than seeing her whenever they meet. That is the one thing Peach was sure about. Ah, but remember! This is only roleplay; nothing is real. Prince Fortunato, as well as everyone else, is only pretending. In that case, this gentleman is an excellent actor!
Prince Fortunato leads Peach back to his throne, the two women still standing to accompany him. Envy fills the air. Their expressions turn sour as they watch Peach get even more attention than them. Peach could already tell that this is no ordinary masquerade. She has been to many royal revelries throughout her life, and all of them were filled to the brim with sophistication. Every guest, staff member, and host had class – anything that was considered less than classy wasn’t allowed. This masquerade is different in terms of the usual standards of hosting such parties. It was as eccentric as its Gothic décor, consisting of tables filled with silver platters of fruits, meats, bread, and desserts, goblets of beverages, and candles. Every once and a while, a few guests would stuff themselves and each other with this feast, disregarding etiquette for sheer pleasure. Peach isn’t used to the cacophony of this kind of merrymaking. All of this was nothing but pure, unadulterated debauchery – something she was taught never to delve into. She is a princess, after all, and princesses never do those sorts of things. However, did she not accept the invitation to let herself loose? Did she not agree to join this performance – this masquerade – to experience something new for once? For once? Feeling out of place just standing idle amongst Prince Fortunato and the guests, Peach goes over to one of the tables and picks at a plate of grapes. She watches as the guests gather around Natasha and Ophelia in one huge circle, clapping to the music’s rhythm as they frolic together. The fabrics of their dresses fly with their movements as if they were colorful wings dancing in the darkness. As she plops the grapes delicately into her mouth, her eyes continue to wander over the décor. Suddenly, she stops at a grim sight. There as the centerpiece sits three skulls, two of them from a different species, ones Peach isn’t familiar with. The skull placed in the middle, however, is human. She could not tell if these skulls were real. She hopes they aren’t real. Taking a closer look, an engraving is found on its forehead: Ars longa, vita brevis.
Without warning, the Gallery doors burst open! The music stops – the crowd jumps in surprise! Prince Fortunato rises to his feet, alarmed by this sudden interruption. Peach turns around. There standing in the doorway is an aged peasant woman in old, torn rags, her hair glowing bright red like a burning inferno. Her complexion is dirtied, her makeup is smudged, her eyes red-hot with fury. She scowls as she approaches the partygoers, her hands clenched as if she is about to attack. “For shame!Have you no shame?!” the peasant chants, flailing her arms with rage, “Have you no compassion for your people?! The plague lays waste throughout the land! And yet, here you are, surrounding yourself with wealth and whores! They are suffering! They are dying! There is no hope for us! For shame! For shame! Have you no shame?!” Peach watches as everyone else steps back, avoiding her filthy presence. Twelve. Twelve members in Phantom’s theatre troupe. Prince Fortunato steps forward, confronting her, “Who dares… who dares interrupts us?! Who dares trespass Fort Fortunato and speak against the Crown?!”
“It is your undoing that dares enter your home! This, all of this, will be your downfall!” she responds back angerly, gesturing to the masquerade.
“Leave this instant, or else I’ll have your head for this!”
“I have seen it, Prince Fortunato! I have seen your fate in the deepest of dreams! Doom is upon you all!”
“Ah, it’s one of those so-called soothsayers my people love so much… how lovely. They love having their fortunes told, don’t they? Superstitions and all that. Hmmm. Well, in that case, go on. Amuse us with your… dreams and visions, fortune teller. We do love to be entertained.”
“It will come, Prince Fortunato, in retribution of your indulgences. You and your party may hide all you want; it will still find you! Mortals cannot escape from what is inevitable. In the end, it shall visit us when our time comes… and your time is nigh.”
“Qu’est-ce que tu racontes? What is this ‘it’ you’re talking about? Whatever ‘it’ is, I am sure it will not ruin this masquerade. Princess, do you hear all this? She’s simply mad!”
“Our time is nigh!”
“Tu es timbre!”
“For shame! For shame!”
“Quitter cet endroit!”
“Have you no shame?!”
The peasant stops. Her eyes shift towards Peach. A look of horror falls upon her face. “You…”, she whispers, slowly raising a pointed finger at her. Peach watches as she approaches her, still pointing, terrified. Her expression contorts as if she is studying, searching for something. “You… are to be Death’s Bride… Yes! You are Death’s Bride!” she exclaims, falling to her knees, clutching Peach’s skirt, “Oh, you poor soul! So young… innocent… all to be swept by its dark embrace! I beg of you, your highness, leave this place! Forget these fools! Forget all of this! Save yourself!” With a swift grab, Prince Fortunato pulls the peasant away by the shoulder and pushes her aside. “Unhand her this instant! You trespass my fortress, you waste our time with your superstitions, and now you insult me and my guests?” he yells, “Everyone! Let us show this insolent wretch what it means to insult those higher than her! Bring me a chair! Bring me some rope! Let’s play a game with her, shall we?” Peach could not believe it. A prince sacrificing the well-being of his people for an elaborate masquerade! And now, he and the other guests have decided to torture this poor woman! She cannot stay silent any longer – she must act! “Wait!” Peach cries, making everyone stop in unison, “Have mercy on her! Please!” Prince Fortunato scoffs in amusement, “Why, and for what? She insulted us, you heard her!”
“Yes, but none of that would have happened if you attended to your royal duties as Prince and took care of your people!”
“E-excusez-moi?”
“This poor woman is in dire need of assistance, and you have all the wealth to help her! Maybe you should consider.”
“Ha! My dear, you jest! I have no need for peasants! Why should I dabble in their affairs?”
“Because their affairs are yours as well. They have relied on you for so long, and you rely on them. Without your people, you’re done for!”
“Do you not see the extravagance of this masquerade? The bountiful feasts presented on the tables? Our costumes? The wine in our glasses? I am rich, Princess Morrigan! Wealthy beyond imagination!”
“Wealth that came from people like her! Please, my Lord, have mercy.”
“Are you mad? Ha, you must be! Just as mad as the fortune teller!”
“If I am as mad as her, then I must be! Yes, that’s it! Perhaps your foolishness is just another wild hallucination, for what respectable royalty spoils themselves to the point of gluttony and greed?”
A crowd of gasps shatter the silence. The crowd glance at Peach, then at the prince, then back at her, awaiting another response. Prince Fortunato stands silent, completely stunned by her audacity. His face becomes flushed, his teeth gritting, his emerald eyes bright with anger. His fists clench. “Oh…. I’m a fool, am I? Am I a fool?! I am not a fool! I am Prince Fortunato, the next in line! Heir to the throne! I am as respectable as royalty can be!” he furiously shouts, “I will not be insulted like this! I will not be degraded like this! I need not your judgment, or hers, or anyone else’s! I am no fool, do you hear me? I am not a fool! I am a Prince, full of riches and beauty! I am perfect! I am powerful! I am untouchable! You think I’m a fool? You call me a fool, eh? Ha ha! Well then, let me entertain you all! Come, gather around, my lovely guests! Let me show you what a true fool really is!” With a whip of his cape, Prince Fortunato rushes from the crowd and goes behind the throne. Everyone watches as he switches his coat and cape with another coat and removes his crown with another accessory. In a matter of seconds, he reappears, this time donning a shiny blue coat and a mask in the shape of a rabbit’s face. Raising his arms, he presents his new costume to the crowd, “Here! Here! I am now a fool! But Prince Fortunato? Oh no, no, no! He is no fool! You imbeciles! He is a national treasure!” Has Prince Fortunato finally lost his sanity? What could he possibly gain from this? Peach is stunned, as much as the rest of the others. However, she is not as terrified as everyone else. She sees Natasha and Ophelia cradling each other, comforting one another despite both being in distress. She sees Stefan in costume backing away, almost seeming to run away and hide somewhere safe. She sees Dolores frozen in utter fear.
Peach remembers what she had said: “My master can be terrifying when he has his moments.”
No one could help but watch as Prince Fortunato danced along the ballroom floor, singing random songs in a mocking fashion. He flails his arms, waving his hands wildly as if no one is watching him. Is this even part of the roleplay? This moment feels too spontaneous to even be scripted. Peach could not imagine Phantom having his own theatre troupe mock him, regardless of whether or not it would be intentional. Whoever is playing Prince Fortunato must truly be a fool. Prince Fortunato sings in a sardonic tone:
🎶“Look at me!
Watch me float and gloat and show off my coat!
Watch me as I sing about plumbers – oh, how I hate them!
I hate them so much, oh what a bummer!
Watch me as I make sweet, sweet love to my precious spotlight
Under the moonlight!”🎶
Although the song is less than perfect, Peach admits to herself: he has an amazing singing voice! And he sings opera, just like his master! She wonders if all of the members of the theatre troupe can sing as well. Ah, no! Enough of that! Don’t get distracted now! As he sings, Prince Fortunato runs and leaps onto a nearby table, knocking over huge plates of food, skulls, and candles on the floor. Everyone else watches as he spins and taps his feet on the table, his arms still flailing around. No one in the theatre troupe tries to stop him – they’re all too shocked and afraid to even do so. They did not want to get involved in such mockery. Peach could. However, what would happen if she did? As much as she would like to stop him, she just couldn’t. For whatever reason, whether it be out of shock, or out of fear, or out of curiosity, she did not move at all. Still, the Prince continues:
🎶“Imbecile, imbecile, imbecile!
Everyone’s an imbecile but me!
Listen to me, listen to me!
My ego is as big as it can be!
Come, my Princess, marry me please
Or else I’ll cry, cry, cry!”🎶
Then, the sudden drone of a large bell rings! It brings everyone into a hush, sending an immense chill down their spine. No one moves. The drone continues. And continues. And continues. Is this what the peasant woman was talking about? The impending doom that is to fall upon this masquerade? The fate of everyone who stands here on this very night? This inevitability that will claim those who still walk on this earth? Whatever is coming for them… has arrived to make its debut.
The Gallery doors creak open. Seeping through the entrance is a cloud of fog, billowing across the floor like a massive white sheet. It surrounds everyone, almost rising up to their knees, and soon the entire chamber is filled to the brim with gloom. Prince Fortunato finally steps down, his eyes staring in fear at the entrance, and retreats behind Peach. As fate approaches them, soft murmurs of terror arise from the crowd. One by one, each and every actor and actress trembles in anticipation. Peach awaits as well, but more out of curiosity than the shock of terror. This feeling; she remembers it all too well. She has to know what happens next. She has to know what kind of resolution this entire roleplay performance is coming to. Although the resolution is frightening, it was the satisfaction of discovery that keeps her within the Gallery. She will not leave. Fear will not take over. Only curiosity. Only awe and wonder. Only fascination.
And lo and behold, there stands the face of Death in his newest and blackest masterpiece.
He stands tall, bejeweled and shrouded in crimson, emerging from behind the murky darkness. The sheer size of him is intimidating enough, but the opulence in which he had adorned himself gives him an almost divine presence in the masquerade. Out of all the costumes Peach has seen, this one is more magnificent – more vibrant and elaborate – than the rest. Blood red veils cascade down from his large cavalier hat and alongside his cape. His vest a skeletal ribcage, patterns of bones scatter his scarlet greatcoat, and in his paws is a colossal gold cane. Hidden underneath the shadow of his hat is a golden mask, formed into the shape of a skull. Everyone slowly backs away as this masked red-clad stranger approaches them. But not Peach. Instead, she stays, completely in awe. She has become too enamored by his Gothic glamour to even be remotely scared. Finally. After so many days, they finally meet once again. She could see his sapphire eyes peering through and meeting hers with a sign of notice. He stops for a moment. That look… that tender gaze! Although they had only met for a little while before this moment, Peach confesses to herself: she could never have enough of those bright eyes. Those gleaming sapphire eyes. Even through that skull mask of his, she could stare into them all night long.
Alluring… Beguiling… Captivating… Enchanting…
Phantom shifts his attention to Prince Fortunato, his eyes wide with fury. The partygoers cower as he floats over to the foolish prince, towering over him as he looks down. Prince Fortunato scrambles, quickly taking off his blue coat and rabbit mask, full of sweat, almost hyperventilating. His face is revealed with a terrified expression. His eyes look up at Phantom, awaiting whatever fate – whatever punishment – shall bestow upon him. Phantom twists his cane and slowly he pulls it apart, revealing it to be a scabbard with a long, sharp sword inside it. Peach gasps as he unsheathes his weapon, raises it up in the air, and points it down at a quivering Prince Fortunato. “Please, monsieur!” Prince Fortunato gasps and swallows, “Spare me! It was only a mere jest! I was only having some fun entertaining my guests! I-I am the host, after all! Monsieur, please… Have mercy…!” Everyone watches in horror as he pleads for forgiveness. Phantom takes in a deep breathe; music begins to play again. It is in minor key, deep and dramatic – the orchestral equivalent to an imposing force. Peach holds her breath. Finally. With a smooth, baritone voice, Phantom sings his haunting solo:
🎶“Fortunato!
Surrender to me,
Look upon the face of Death!
It is meant to be,
Now savor your last breath!
Fortunato!
Your time has come at last,
Take your final drink of wine!
For your sins in the past,
Oh Prince, your soul will be mine!”🎶
“No!” the prince cries out, “You cannot take me! I will not let you! My guests need me! My people need me!” What hypocrisy! What foolishness! Peach watches intently. What is going to happen next? Will this masked presence spare Prince Fortunato? Will Prince Fortunato’s mockery be forgiven? She anticipates what comes next, whatever that may be. But although she tries to expect the unexpected, there is one thing she is certain about: the masquerade was doomed from the very beginning. Phantom lowers his sword, just by an inch, almost as if in contemplation. A few moments of silence passes. Everyone watches him in anticipation. Peach. Prince Fortunato. Dolores, Stefan, Natasha and Ophelia. Everyone. Anticipating. Anticipating. Anticipating.
Phantom smirks, letting out a soft chuckle. His sword lowers even more, and finally inserts it back into the scabbard. A sigh of relief fills the Gallery…
Then sudden horror! It happened so swiftly. So much so that if one were to blink at that moment, they would miss it completely. A scream pierces the silence! It was Prince Fortunato, now on the floor collapsed to his knees! He screams in agony as his covers his face! Phantom had made a sharp wave of his hand, almost as if he were to slap him across the face. But no! It was much, much worse. A terrible fate had fell upon the prince.
Blood…!
Oozing from his face is a gush of crimson blood! His eye sockets, his nostrils, his mouth, his pores – all drenched in blood! Horrid blemishes begin appearing on his flesh, leaving opened, pus-filled wounds as they pop one by one! Tears and yellow fluids mix with the blood, staining the floor with a pool of secretions! And the screams! Oh, the screams! Prince Fortunato tries to hide his face once more, only to find that it hurts too much! His hands pull away from his face – and, oh God! His flesh, his flesh – it is rotting away! What was once the pristine beauty of a spoiled, gluttonous prince is now the face of nightmares. He coughs and chokes; he cannot scream anymore – blood has filled his throat! He falls onto the floor, panicking, suffering! To think that this is what his people had to endure while no one was there to save their lives. With eyes stained with tears and blood, he rushes over to his guests and reaches for help, but in vain, for who could ever touch a diseased man? With a final cry of fear, Prince Fortunato falls. There lays on the floor is a twitching corpse, the face mutilated by the worst of illnesses…
This display of gore puts the guests into a state of frenzied panic! More screams and sobs fill the Gallery, as well as the sound of footsteps running and chairs and tables knocked over. If they don’t do something, Phantom will come after them next! Anything to get away from this face of Death. Chaos ensues! All except for Peach. Peach stands still amongst the disorder of the partygoers. Her widened eyes are fixated on Phantom. Is it shock? Is it fear? Is it something else entirely? Of course, anybody would be frightened by the sheer grotesqueness of the prince’s death and the possibility of meeting the same fate. But strangely, it seems to not bother Peach at all, almost as if she isn’t aware of the situation. Perhaps she is still mesmerized by Phantom’s extravagant appearance? Perhaps she is somehow desensitized? Whatever is going on, Peach still remains, as well as the peasant woman. The two ladies stare as Phantom slowly turns to watch over the terrified crowd. He observes the scene quietly. All in unison, the panicked guests rush toward the Gallery doors. With a wave of his hand, he blocks the entrance, slamming it tightly shut. Ophelia throws herself on the doors, slamming her fists frantically, “Open the doors! Open the doors! Oh please, open the doors!” Everyone begins to do the same. But alas, their attempts of escape are futile, for their master – the Red Death – had already claimed their souls. Once again, Phantom sings:
🎶“Crowned with privilege and villainous
Bathe in the blood of your wickedness
Tonight, retribution is at hand
For this masquerade shall be damned
Mask yourselves to hide your shame
But in the end, they know your name
Into the earth, your corpses will sink
May your blood be the wine they drink…”🎶
And one by one, each guest fell, forming a massive pile of bloodied bodies in front of the entrance. Peach takes in what had just happened. She had never seen something so macabre before. Roleplay, she thinks to herself, this is all just roleplay. This is all just pretend. No one is hurt. They are all just acting. This is all just roleplay. But by the stars, it looks so… real! There is blood everywhere. Not just the red pool on the floor, but also smeared handprints on the doors too. How did Phantom do all of this? This must have taken so much effort and hard work to even pull off such a remarkably gory scene! Peach couldn’t help but wonder what exactly went through Phantom’s mind when making this performance. This was something she never expected, let alone how absolutely graphic it was going to be. But regardless, the entirety of the roleplay screamed Phantom. It was bold. Dramatic. A complete subversion from a usual masterpiece. There was grandeur, there was beauty, there was mystery, there was tension. Then finally the payoff – an act of karma against the avaricious Prince Fortunato and his hedonistic friends. Now only she and the peasant woman are left. Peach cannot imagine what this powerful reaper is going to do next. Ah, no – she suddenly remembers!
Death’s Bride. She is to be Death’s Bride…
Her thoughts are interrupted by another cry, this time from the peasant woman. She turns to find Phantom approaching her, his hand lifting up to claim another soul. But why must the good die? Death is inevitable, it is true. Life is short. Peach knew this. But what did this poor woman do to deserve such a fate? Why do bad things happen to good people? Perhaps it is meant to be, just like what Phantom said. Roleplay. It is all just roleplay. Should she stand by and let things take its course? Or maybe… what could she do? Roleplay…. Ah, of course! Peach dashes over and stands in between them. “Wait!” she says, defending the peasant woman, “Have mercy on her!” Phantom pauses, taken by surprise for a moment, but then resumes in character. “Young or old, poor or rich… Death waits for no one. Her time has come.” Phantom calmly responds, his voice low. “Can you at least give her enough time to live another day? Can you see she has suffered enough? Please, I beg of you.” Peach pleads.
“You stand in front of the face of Death… and yet you are not frightened. Are you… not afraid of me?”
“I do not fear what is inevitable. I just want to give her another chance.”
“Such compassion… and all of this for a stranger. However, as painful as it may be, you cannot persuade me to spare her.”
“If that is not enough, then I will offer a gift to you.”
“And what is this gift you speak of?”
“For this woman’s life, I offer you myself. You can have my soul. You can have everything, all of me, and I will not refuse you.”
Phantom is rendered speechless, despite staying in character. Do his ears deceive him? No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be! Deep down inside, he could not believe what Peach had just said. He watches as Peach ushers the peasant woman to flee the masquerade, and so she does, retreating to a small secret entrance hidden by the large curtains. Silence. As much as he tries, Phantom seems to be unable to speak. Now only he and the princess are alone. Together. Just like that one night. “I believe that is enough to persuade you?” Peach says with a soft smile. That smile. Oh, that sweet smile! He could stare at it forever! “I can be yours, and yours only. I will not leave. I will be not be frightened.” she continues, “It must be lonely, going around the world and reaping souls for those who’s time has passed. You don’t have to be lonely. You can have a companion! Someone who will join you by you side. Don’t you want that?” Companionship. Is Peach talking to Death or to Phantom himself? The lines between roleplay and real life begin to blur before his very eyes. He could not differentiate which is just acting or an actual confession. She must be playing a trick – she must be! This could not possibly be real! This is just too good to be true! Taking in a deep breath, staring deep into Peach’s pretty eyes, Phantom sings one last solo:
🎶“Oh, Sweet Maiden!
Surrender to me,
Look upon your paramour!
It is meant to be,
Together forevermore!
Oh, Sweet Maiden!
Your time has come at last
Take your final drink of wine
For this spell I shall cast
My Bride, your heart will be mine!”🎶
With a wave of his hand, two shiny, black feathered wings sprout from Peach’s back! Peach glances over in surprise, admiring her new wings. They sparkled under the light of the chandelier with iridescent glitter. Natasha must have added these in while making her costume. Once again, she continues to be impressed be Natasha’s work. Then her eyes glance over towards the Gallery entrance. Peach stops. Something has changed. Her eyes squints as she tries to make out what she is seeing. Confusion floods her mind until realization hits her.
The bodies… are those…. Mannequins?
Phantom places his paw on her cheek, delicately turning her face towards him. The softness of his caress fills her senses, and she is greeted by his tender gaze. What a tender gaze he has! As her eyes are locked in his gaze, Peach feels herself being gently embraced around her waist and leaning back into a dip. Her heart begins to race. Beat after beat it quickens its pace, her breathing becomes more and more shaky. It must be adrenaline – all of this is so new to her. Peach finds herself reaching out towards Phantom and, ever so gently, she takes off his skull mask, revealing his face. At long last, she finally sees him. Oh, how she missed him! “Did you enjoy the show, your highness?” Phantom grins, “I must admit, there were some things that weren’t… intended to happen, but as long a—” He is stopped, as Peach catches him off guard. Locked in a tight hug around his neck, he feels his lips being locked with hers. It was passionate yet gentle and warm. Peach, the princess he has adored for so many years, is giving him a kiss. A kiss! Is this a dream? Is this actually happening? So many thoughts went through Phantom’s mind. He could not process all of them at once; his head could possibly burst from excitement! His eyes flutter and close, letting himself melt into Peach’s embrace. If they could pull each closer than they already are, they could. But no matter how much closer they can be, it just wasn’t enough. They wanted each other. They craved each other. The unbridled desire for connection and companionship broke loose, and immediately they find themselves losing all control of their yearning. Their lips break apart, their hot breaths mingling with each other. They open their eyes; Peach grins and so does Phantom. They kiss again, neither of them wanting to stop. “Ah…!” Phantom gasps in between her soft lips, “Mon ange de la mort…!”
Overwhelmed, Peach swoons as Phantom dips her even further and surrenders herself to his kiss of death.
---
She woke up the next morning. The first thought that would have come to her mind was how she even managed to return to her castle without any notice. But no, the very first thought that came to her mind was what happened last night. She laid in her bed and, as stares up at the ceiling, touched her lips softly with her fingertips. Then up her rosy cheek, then down to her neck, and across her bare shoulders. She could still feel his touch. She sighs deeply – what a performance that was! Peach stretched her whole body and curled up, sinking back into sleep. A love stricken grin appeared on her face as she whispered to herself, “Until we meet again.”
#my writing#OTP#fanfiction#shipping fanfic#Phantom x Peach#phantom of the bwahpera#OCs#princess peach#mario rabbids#mario rabbids kingdom battle#tom phan
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Wick and Flame
Ahhh my beautiful people! I’ve written again:) This time it was a bit more angsty- Nesta confronts Rhys. I was planning on posting weeks ago but recently had to get surgery. Here it is, I hope y’all love it!
TW: Mentions of Sexual Assault and violence...
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Rhysand.”
“It’s High Lord, to you.”
“I never once asked to serve you. I could call you many things but the most prevalent to me is my sister’s assaulter.”
A silence swept over the room.
Feyre had planned a lovely evening for the Inner Circle to regroup after the successful invasion of the Autumn Court- Eris’s coronation. It was safe to say Nesta wasn’t enjoying herself in the slightest, and was enjoying herself significantly less when Rhysand started making innuendos about Nesta’s past and worthlessness.
She was here for her sister and was trying to be more involved for her sake. But, she missed the quiet of the mountains, and Emerie, and the children she read to. And Cassian.
Everything went to hell after Rhysand asked if she convinced Eris by coaxing him into bed. Nesta launched back with how he’s no better of a man than Eris is.
Rhys growled, “That wasn’t what that was-”
“Oh really? Just because you two are happy now you think that erases the things you did to her? The things you-”
“You know nothing Nesta-”
“I know more than you think,” Nesta fumed. “I could tell from the way she talked about it, Under the Mountain, that something had happened to her. And just as I suspected you did it. But, why should I be shocked in the first place? You sexualized my teenage sister the very second you saw her. She was nineteen, Rhysand. Would you deign to tell us about that sick infatuation of yours?”
From across the table, Nesta could see the shadows bloom over the singer and the seer look down at her plate with wide eyes, Morrigan gripping her glass tighter and saw Cassian flicking between both sides. Would he pick her or them? It didn’t matter though, because who she cared about confronting was gritting his teeth and holding the jewel ordained knife like a weapon.
Would he use it on her?
“Say it. You touched her, you touched her. You took my drunk little sister and touched her in front of everyone! Do you know how I know this? Do you know how I had to figure this out? I read it in her body language for months, and then last week when I had to go on a mission for you, when Cassian and I had to risk ourselves for you, when you used him and me as bait for you, I found out from Eris.”
Mor flinched, the name a slap. Oh, maybe Nesta had made a mistake.
“Mor… I apologize for being brash… It wasn’t kind of me. I’d like to continue speaking but if you’re uncomfortable you can leave.”
She shifted, “Anything he says is valuable… I- I think I should say.”
Nesta’s heart broke a bit, she wasn’t quite fond of Mor yet, and her obscene relationship with Cassian did not please Nesta, but she was trying. Nesta was trying.
“And what did that snake tell you, dear sister-in-law? What did he say to poison you further?” The High Lord was shaking now, his wife shell-shocked beside him.
“That snake told me you made her drink till she was sick on your boots, and he told me the things you did to her. All of it. And I refuse to speak any more of it because it is not my story to tell, but just know I have no intention of forgiving you for this any time soon.”
The air seemed a bit thicker, the food colder, and the people gathered around the table duller. Of course, she ruined it.
She always does.
The silence dragged on until the violet-eyed man said the irreversible words, “ And why would I care about the forgiveness of an alcoholic whore?
The impenetrable line had been crossed.
Nesta let the tears well in her eyes as she hiked up her skirt, maintaining as much modesty as one could, and ripped the dagger out of her garter and stabbed it into the high-lords mahogany table.
Everyone at the table jolted. Seven sets of eyes widened at the sight and Elain visibly shuttered.
“You don’t know the slightest thing about me, Rhys.”
The man before her was trying to keep his composure but was lacking. His poor table.
“I was nineteen the first time a man did something similar to me.” Once Nesta saw she had their attention she continued, “When we were little, shortly after Mother died, the three of us were thrown into a life we never asked for. I, being the oldest, was automatically deemed to be the “new” mother, but Cauldron forbid ten-year-old me was slightly lost on the ways to be a mother. I was never the best sister or the most present, you of all people don’t let me forget, Rhys. I tried, I wasn’t great and I wasn’t the most helpful, but I tried. I would steal Feyre’s extra money to get iron bracelets to fend ourselves against people like you, I would take money to repair the ax I used to cut wood, I would spend some on buying cheap daggers to arm myself when I had to experience the ways of the world on my own.”
“And what did you have to experience, Nesta? Abandoning your sister? Making her hunt for you? Doing-”
“I never asked Feyre to do anything!” Nesta raised her voice for the first time. “I never once asked her to go, in fact, I told her not to. I am… grateful for what she did. But that should’ve been our father- no child should have to provide for them self. So, your absolute blessing of a wife never took the daggers I got, never wore the bracelets, and she trekked on. I never took them because in actuality they were hers to use. I felt like she needed more protection than I did.”
Nesta was trembling now, she had never quivered once in front of these people but she needed to- she needed to tell them.
“I went to find a suitor, a man to marry so that there was one less mouth to feed and one less body to take up the bed. I found Thomas, a poor man who I despised but he was willing to wed. His father beat his mother and I knew I was bound for that eventually, but I thought I could take it. After months of courting, he asked for my hand and I said yes. I wasn’t happy, but in the worst of ways, I thought I was helping my sisters by leaving them.
“When Feyre was taken… I had a lot of time to think. And when I wasn’t thinking about her I was thinking about how miserable this life of mine would be. It dawned on me one night that this wasn’t what I deserved. I went to his sham of a house and asked to go our separate ways.”
The room was spinning, Nesta sat down. She breathed and took note of everything she could, the color of her dress, the untouched plate, the napkins.
“It was night, my hair was down and I was just in my nightgown. I remember being cold and tired, I had spent the entire day trying to find a hole in the wall so maybe… It doesn’t matter anymore. Just as quick as I told him no… he had my hair in his hands and had me pushed on a bed.
She paused to breathe a racking breath. “I never cut my hair short because my mother would tell me how beautiful it was, I’m starting to think I should’ve.”
Nesta whispered the last words. Calm down. As her eyes fluttered around the room she kept going, no one stopped her.
“Do you know how easy satin rips? Too easy, but it was cheap and all we could afford… In twenty-eight seconds I had everything ripped from me. My pride, my clothes, the very little that was left of me…”
It was so hard to breathe, so hard.
“I took the candle from his bedside table and burnt it into his back to give me a second to get him off of me. I wasn’t nearly strong enough but I was able to hit him over the head with the candle-holder.”
Nesta stopped. She said enough. You said more than enough. She breathed, one, two.
She gripped the handle of the weapon before her and removed it, strapping it back to her thigh. “This dagger in your beautiful table is what I keep attached to me, I sleep in it even. because the things I left unsaid are worse than you can possibly imagine, and I hope to never endure them again.”
“High-Lord of the Night Court, I do not owe you a thing. I do not owe you my time, breath, or story. Your cousin and wife have had experiences similar to mine, one of them your personal doing. You will not call me a whore. You don’t know the half of my life. You know nothing more than a page in my book and I won’t allow you to write me as your villain.
“Unlike my sister, I didn’t fall in love with the man who wronged me. I’m just tainted by the scars he left behind. If she is happy I will not speak of my disgust for you, but just know I have every damned reason to despise you.”
Nesta pushed her chair away from the table and regained the queen-like frost of hers.
“I’m leaving. Feyre, thank you for the lovely dinner, I’m sorry I ruined it.”
She turned to Rhys.
“As for you, I’ll have you know this whore has better places to be than here. At least the men I gamble with in bars don’t assault women.”
And with her crown of clear flames, Nesta walked away.
taglist: @perseusannabeth @nahthanks @sayosdreams
#cassian#nessian#acotar#nesta#nesta archeron#acomaf#acosf#acowar#nesta x cassian#a court of silver flames#nessian fic
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