#perhaps even phantom of the opera | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venmondiese · 11 days ago

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COME TO ME, ANGEL OF MUSIC

‎‎masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏ| summary: On a costume party, you meet Aemond, a strange man who seems to lurke your thoughts. Soon enough, you'll find he is more than what he seems.

✧| Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

✧| word count: 4.2k

✧| Warnings: MDNI 18+, possible dub-con, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond is very weird, and this contains dark contents.

-ˋˏslightly based on the phantom of the opera + my contribution to halloween

You wish you knew how you ended up in a rich party, honestly. It was a costume party, and everyone had rich costumes. You went for a classic one; Christine from Phantom of the Opera. Your friend was dating the younger son of this family, throwing a party in the whole damn state they had, as if it was some kind of Saltburn. You didn’t comply when she dragged you to ‘meet one of his rich friends so you and him can be together’ because honestly you had nothing better to do.

Seeing people do heroin and ecstasy was not your style, so you separated from your friend soon enough, as she told you her boyfriend and her would spend quite some time on that. She had promised to invite one of your childhood friends (and crush); Ben. Even if it had been ages, you still thought about the chance to meet him.

Dancing on the dance floor was something else. They didn’t play some of the usual party songs played on discos or bars. It was somehow more refined, but it didn't stop you from dancing. You danced with some dudes; with a mummy, with Beetle juice, with Pennywise and even with the typical one dressed as the Joker. You made out with them a bit, but soon enough you pulled away.

Once you were sweating through your costume, you went to the backyard, seeing all the stairs you had to get down to touch the grass. Instead, you walked to the chairs in the balcony and stayed there.

“I lost my… fucking piercing…” you murmur, feeling your face and not feeling your nose ring. Did you even…?

“Hello, didn’t expect you here”

You turn to see the voice by your side. It was dark, or perhaps you weren’t using your glasses, but you could swear there wasn’t a man there.

“Hey” you murmur softly.

“Who are you supposed to be?” He asks softly, smoking his cigarette as he was against the wall.

You weren’t one for small talk, truly. But here you were.

“Christine Daaé” you tell him softly looking at him.

“Hm.”

“From the phantom of the opera”

“I know, it is rather obvious coming from you” he says softly, another puff as he speaks.

You frown slightly, confused by his words. What was he on? Maybe your face is familiar with someone he knows. You are sure you know him. He is oddly familiar as well, and you definitely couldn't shake the feeling of knowing him. He was like a distant, misty memory, as if from a dream.

“And who are you?”

“Nosferatu”

You take a moment to watch his costume, seeing the formal clothes he used. He had long silver hair, and it looked silky and it was very eye-catching. As you saw more and more of him, as the dim lights from the garden gave him a sombre aura. His skin was pale, not rosy-like pale, but straight out white, cold tones. He had a purple eye, and he wore an eye patch to the other.

“I Thought Nosferatu was bald”

“I thought Christine Daaé could sing.”

“You surely wear tons of makeup”

“You should see my brother” he says, looking at you “He came as Edward Cullen, Tons of glitter”

You chuckle “I can see it”

He was handsome, leaning on the wall as he inspected you. Gave you goose bumps, that, and the cold air too.

“What’s your brother’s name?” You ask softly, looking at him as the skirt of your costume had been caught on some leaves.

“Aegon” he says, as if testing your knowledge on the name.

“And yours?” You ask, smoothly. You wanted to know his, in truth, and he smirked as he puffed on his cigarette.

“Aemond” he says softly, looking at you. “Yours?”

You tell him your name, and he hums watching over you. There is something about the way he looks at you, making your skin have goose bumps and you turn slightly more conscious about yourself. He was intimidating, yet at the same time, you were attracted to him as moths are to light.

“You fit the costume” he says, puffing on his cigarette again.

“It is my favourite costume. I found a white corset, and a white puffy dress. I did the star pattern on it, and it took me a while to style my hair.”

“Hm. I see.” his voice is sultry, watching you closely.

“I have seen the Phantom of the Opera since I was a child. I love it” you admit with a smile “Seen it like a hundred times. I doubt there is someone who has seen it more than I”

He raises an eyebrow at your nerdiness, yet he shrugs, throwing his cigarette on the floor to stomp on it. His shoes had dragon patterns on them, and looked as if they had never been worn.

“I doubt it” he says smugly, moving to sit in another chair next. One of his legs lazily going above the other as he leaned back. “I have seen it for years and years”

You roll your eyes amused, as if he was trying to fight who was nerdier. “Yeah, right”

“I mean it. They always play it in the theatre” he says, looking at your face as if trying to see your reaction. He isn’t very expressive, you notice, as his face almost doesn’t move as he speaks.

“And so you happen to visit the theatre always?”

“Well, in fact I do.” He shrugs, moving to take another cigarette out of his pocket, to lighten it up. You roll your eyes as if you don’t believe him. “I own the place.”

It is a moment of silence, as you watch him brag about it. Men and their audacity. He was extremely rude, apart from off-putting. And he was arrogant, you knew an arrogant man when you saw one, how his chin is titled up, as if looking down at you.

“Yeah, right”

“I mean it” He says, surely.

“Are you rich?” You say in disbelief, not believing one word of what he was saying.

“I live some states away” He says, referring to the mansions. “It’s older than the damn country”

“I do not believe you one bit”

“Don’t” he shrugs nonchalantly, his face barely changing as he takes another puff. “You could have had free entry to see the phantom of the opera every night”

You narrowed your eyes to his words, you do not believe him. How rich can you be to own one of these houses AND own a theatre? Makes 0 sense in your middle class mind. Yet, Aemond, for some reason, is different. You cannot explain it… and it bugs you. Yet you are curious as a cat.

“Okay, Mr. Billionaire” You say mockingly, leaning closer as you watch his face. “If you do own that, you must be an aristocrat” you point out, seeing how his eyebrows raise and he nods slightly.

“Yeah”

“So your family has been around for centuries?”

He nods, and he says “Yeah, more than centuries”

“Every dynasty falls, you know. Sooner or Later”

“Or they evolve” He says, taking another puff. He has a calm way to speak, almost sultry. He speaks as if he had all the right opinions on the world, and doesn’t leave room to question him.

Aemond was handsome, perhaps too handsome. Though the white makeup was too much (and you can imagine how full of glitter his brother should be), he has a mystery surrounding him. He was a billionaire, yet he doesn’t tell you his family name, which doesn’t surprise you, since rich people are full of fake friends. You doubted that half of the people in this mansion even knew the hosts personally. And Aemond seems the calm type, stoic, silent and observant. You can notice it just by the way he stares at you, no expression on his face, not even boredom.

“And you are friends with …” You ask, moving a hand to point at the castle.

“My brother is more social than I am” his tone is quiet.

“And he dragged you here?”

“I dragged myself here” he says. Even if he is very expressionless, you were getting tired of him.

You didn’t even notice how awkward the whole conversation was. He was so clearly uninterested in you, only bragged about his luxuries and spoke in a condescending tone. You were confused, no doubts. The alcohol had been too much.

“I will go to the dance floor then…, Aemond” you say standing up, and he doesn’t do the courtesy to look interested.

As you leave, you just try to sneak away from his little corner, and you try to find your friend. The meeting with Aemond left you a sour taste in your mouth, no doubts. Lisa was certainly more of a social butterfly, and if she was next to her boyfriend she would probably be like his trophy, anyways.

You walked through the corridors, and tried to check your phone. It was almost one in the morning, 00:58. You sighed, checking your messages as you tried to stay against the wall; the music was loud enough to drive you insane.

Where are u??? Ben is here…

You cursed yourself, muttering a great deal of insults as you answered, asking where the hell she was with Ben. You came with a purpose, and you certainly couldn’t leave without it.

Ben was handsome, and his blonde hair fell from his face as he was dressed as some superhero you didn’t recognise. Yet he was lean, and handsome as hell. He has some beard, not too rusty, but you liked it, suited him well. It reminded you of his dad, no doubts.

“Ben” you say smiling

“Oh, look at you” he says, standing up to hug you. “It has been ages!”

“Too long” You say smiling, hugging him back. “How have you been? I mean… What have you been up to?” It was almost impossible not to want to ask Ben about all the amazing things he must have been up to.

Between chatting, drinking and dancing, it’s nearly three am when you are still dancing on him in the dance floor. It was less crowded than before, yet it still was hot as hell. You were sweating slightly, and still with Ben, dancing together and having so much fun.

“Hey, Christine”

You turn a bit confused. Oh, it was this guy. The Nosferatu guy, Aemond.

“Hey” You say to him, cringing a bit. His expressionless face looked from you to Ben, who stopped to dance to introduce himself. “Ben, this is Aemond… Aemond, Ben”

Whereas Ben extended his hand with a smile, Aemond watched him with a hum, acknowledging him with a raise of eyebrows. You wanted to die, he was so fucking rude and hard to swallow, and you didn’t even know why he was bothering you.

“You are friends?”

You try to answer, yet you find yourself mumbling nonsense as your cheeks get red slightly from shame. It is Aemond who answers.

“Yeah. Long acquaintances” he says, and his face finally changes. His lips curled in a smirk, his arms crossed on his chest as he was very much interested in Ben now. “Isn’t it right?”

You look at him, and then at Ben, blinking a bit confused. “Yeah, we know each other… and we are so close”

“Oh, I see. Didn’t mention that” He says, his smile confused as he looks at you.

“Well, I didn’t remember” you say, a bit confused, frowning.

Where did you exactly meet Aemond?

“Ouch” Aemond says, looking at you. His voice still cold, and detached “Didn’t you tell him all the times we have gone to see the Phantom of the Opera?”

It takes you a bit to speak. “Yeah, tons of times… Aemond owns a theatre, and they play it all the time.”

Ben looks at you a bit confused. His hand is on the small of your back, and still close to you.

“Maybe you could come with us” you babble, words out of your mouth hastily. “I’d like you to” you add, words you like to say finally coming out of your mouth.

“Sure thing” Ben says smiling, giving you a reassuring nod.

“We could arrange it for the next season. Now it is all about more new musicals” Aemond says shrugging “Even if the Phantom of the Opera is quite new, still”

“It’s old as fuck, dude” Ben laughs it out, but his laugh is met with no response.

You looked at him, eyes wide. You found it funny, why didn’t you laugh?

“Either way…” Aemond says, his tone unwavering as always. “We have to leave, darling”

It is then when you look at Aemond again. You were attracted to him like a moth is to light, and he was like a drug. He was handsome, tall and definitely hot. He made you feel alive.

Yet you didn’t want to leave Ben. Why would you? Lisa had especially invited him for this purpose, to get you two together, to reconnect and with some luck, hook up. Even if you weren’t the type to hook up with guys you have met the same day, unlike Lisa. She joked that maybe Ben was worth the exception.

“Wait, I thought we were staying…?” Ben says, confused, since Lisa’s boyfriend had no problem in lending one of the guest rooms to you two.

“No” you say, almost automatically.

“Come on” Aemond says, pulling you away from Ben, grabbing your elbow with a self-sufficient smirk.

His touch was cold, unwelcoming and uncaring. Even with that, you followed his lead out of the mansion, not caring to wave goodbye to Ben.

It is when he opens his old car, probably expensive as hell, when you ask him. “Where are we going?”

He smiles “Oh, my darling. We are going to my state”

Your mind has problems remembering how you two exactly arrived at his state. You have had too much alcohol, either way.

And as you went away from the party, you started to ask yourself more things. Why did you ignore Ben? You were an ass to him, and you didn’t care about it. But in truth, you did, and you felt awful about it.

It made zero sense; you couldn’t understand your change of heart. As if sorcery was inflicted upon you, or mind control. When you take out your phone, to send him a message, to apologise, and to also tell Lisa where you are, you find yourself with no signal at all. You barely had any battery on it too.

“Do not bother” Aemond’s cold tone comes as he drives. The car was so old, the gearshift was like a lever next to the steering wheel. Damn, this shit didn’t even have a radio. “There is no signal around here”

“No technology either…” you murmur between your teeth, and try to look out in the darkness of the night. It was all mist, from miles and miles in the field.

“Do not worry yourself” He says, and with that, you shut up.

Your walk is almost automatic, following his lead into his house. It was a mansion, more like a Victorian one. Maybe even older, this truly seems like centuries old. You couldn’t imagine how old his dynasty was to inherit something like this.

Aemond could be as sultry as he was cold, because soon enough you were on his bed, sitting as he talked softly, about your appearance or how perfect you were. You truly didn’t take a look around his home, or his room. Surely, there were a lot of stairs, and a lot of floors. But you only cared for Aemond.

“Dressing up like Christine, hm? Suits you” He murmurs, his hands cupping your face as if you were dear to him, yet there was no tenderness in his tone, only that detachment you despised.

“Hm” it was all you could say.

“So perfect for me. I knew I was right on you”

His lips devour yours as he kisses you, and you can do anything but return his kisses, perhaps not with the same fervour, but still you are a bit enthusiastic with that.

If he was cold, he made it up by being addicted. Kissing him was addictive, and the taste of it was making you lean closer and closer to him. And it was as if he thought the same about you, by the way he was acting the same, if not more desperate.

You feel his kisses travel down, as his hands lower down to move the skirt of your dress, feeling your bare legs and going upwards. His face nuzzles your neck, and you can feel how he leaves hickeys, bites and wet kisses on the skin.

He was insane with lust, like an animal as he pressed kisses on your collarbone, pulling you back in his bed. Kissing Aemond was like being in heaven; you could barely feel your own body.

“You are perfect” He murmurs “No need to be nervous” his tone is sultry, almost too enchanting for you.

You weren’t even nervous, to be honest. Your heart was racing like crazy, and your hands were sweating. Still, you didn’t feel nervous.

“I’m not” you murmur softly.

“You are” he says, his eyes turning to look at you. “I know it. You can’t hide anything from me”

As his hands move to take off your clothes, and his mouth relishes on your breasts, clavicle and neck, you start to wonder. Was he stalking you? You remember him too dizzily to connect dots, but he was starting to…

Scare you. Arouse you. You weren’t even sure.

Aemond was especially good with his mouth; his kisses pressed lower and lower as his hands caressed your thighs softly, looking up at you.

“I’ll make you feel better” he promises, his tone sounds ever sweeter. “I know what to do to cure you”

If the remark was oddly strange, he doesn’t give you a moment to think about it, as his mouth goes to your cunt, his tongue moving expertly along your folds to taste you, like a man starved does. He was, in a way, starved. You could see it in his gaze, looking up to you to see your reactions and if trying to see right across your soul.

He accommodates your thighs on his shoulders, as if hugging your back to press you further to his face, and mouth. He was groaning on it, delighting himself in your taste, as you could only whimper and see with half lidded eyes, biting your lower lip as you feel your head starting to drop back in delight.

His mansion was cold, and Aemond was even colder, yet everywhere he touched, felt warm. It was magnificently paradoxical, yet it made every sense in your head. If you could form a logical thought, that would be, because when Aemond touched you it was as if your brain melted completely, being nothing as he touched your body.

“Will you let me?” He asks, his mouth and chin shiny from your arousal, gods, you were leaking wet. You haven’t noticed until now, you were really wet. And he only seems to be happy about it.

He glances up at your face, watching you closely with his careful eye. You were right on his mercy, and he liked it. He could tell that you were loving it, the way he gives you attention and takes care of you, and yet he isn’t pleased when you nod as a way to answer him “I want you to say it out loud”

“Yes” you say, your breath almost stuck in your throat as you speak, nodding. Your cheeks were red, and you could feel your blood going everywhere in your body, especially where he had touched you, and kissed you.

“You are all mine, hm?” He says, seeing the hickeys on your neck and legs.

His cock was hard, and he was as excited as you were to have you. You didn’t quite get what he was after, sex? Taking care of you? An odd, distorted and sick pleasure of… doing what he does? You couldn’t get it.

He doesn’t use protection, and you also don’t try to ask about it. You just don’t care about it, you want him. You need him. You craved him.

Aemond hiss when he enters you. Your pussy is warm, wet and welcoming to his cock. Seeing you in display to him, moaning as his cock starts filling you is too much for him. It’s too overwhelming, and he has to curse out loud, moving to grab your thighs to pull you closer, your body moving as if you were a ragdoll.

“Fuck, princess. That’s it” he mutters, his hips going back, before harshly going forward, starting to pound into you as if he was a feral animal, grunting and groaning,

Your body welcomes his harshness, feeling his cock pound again and again against all your sensitive spots. He knows what he was doing, surely, and he knew how to please his partner in bed. His dick slides effortlessly into her cunt, you could feel his balls slapping against your skin.

“Aemond” you moan is more like a whine, the same tone wounded animals used emit when in pain. Oddly enough, that turns him on more.

“That’s it” He murmurs, his hips being harsh as he thrusted, and you could only imagine how much it would hurt to stand up next morning. "Sing for me...."

Aemond reaches with his hand to find your clit. Most men would be blind, but Aemond had experience. His wet fingers rub your clit, as he made sure his thrusts were overwhelming enough to have you made a mess for him. Moaning loudly, he feels your legs shaking a bit as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Come for me” His tone is many things, a plea, an order, a fact. "Come to me"

You didn’t know how, but he knew. You were coming hard, as you felt his cock deep inside and his wet kisses all over. It was intense, and he had you all disoriented. Maybe you squirted, maybe he came right with you, and maybe he came inside you. But the truth? You didn’t care.

You fell asleep soon after, almost unconscious from such a night. Alcohol, crazy sex, and going to a stranger’s home.

It all hits you by the morning.

If you could call that a morning, honestly. You wake up, in the silk bed sheets, feeling colder than ever, and naked. You turned around, and everything was dark, as if it was night. The tall, heavy curtains in the windows were old enough to be thick, and not let a single ray of sunshine inside. Yet, it was badly closed, because one ray hit right in your neck, and in your left eye, waking you up.

You don’t know how long you have slept, as you stand up. You feel panicked, because you went home with a stranger. And then you start remembering. Leaving without telling Lisa, leaving Ben just because Aemond said so, and you were stupid enough to follow him.

And you had sex with him. You can feel your body aching from how feral he was with you, and you sit up in bed, whining, as your whole body is sore and burning you.

You check your thighs, red and lots of bruises there. And your stomach, and your forearms. You stand up carefully, moving closer to the window you had seen in the hallway, not minding your nakedness, or who might see you wander around.

You are more worried by the blood coming out your neck. You see yourself in the mirror; your neck has dry blood, bruises and hickeys. Your face? Intact. But your neck and collarbone were… destroyed. Your breasts are saved, just a little bit, bitten and full of hickeys, but no blood there.

You try to move the dry blood, trying to see what you were injured. You didn’t hear a sound in the house; it was dark, and quiet. The most light that entered was from a skylight in the stairs, which seemed to be endless.

You see two dots, deep and scarlet in your neck. And another pair, and another. You had to check more than twice to try to make it sense. Aemond had bitten you. It was all Aemond.

“I see you have woken up” He murmurs, leaning on the hallway, with a cup of tea, and some cookies.

You turn to look at him, and you regret not having something to cover yourself with.

“You are a monster” You say, turning back to the room, to try and go find your clothes and your phone. “Biting me like a… a… a vampire” you say, just to test the waters. Hells, you didn’t even believe he was a vampire.

Aemond chuckles, following right behind you as he leaves the tray in the cabinet. He looks at you, covering the door unconsciously, as he crosses his arms. “So you figured it out then” he says. “I thought it would take you less”

“You… drugged me”

“No” He says, crossing his arms, offended. “I did not need to.”

He was attractive, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his charm, and how handsome he was. Of course, you think, being an idiot. You had seen twilight a million times, and you felt like Bella when she discovered the same about Edward.

“Vampires aren’t real” You remind him, putting on your clothes. They were dirty, yet you just wanted to get out of there. Gods, you were an idiot. An idiot. And you didn’t even know what you would tell Lisa, or Ben, or your parents…

“Aren’t they, really?” He asks, almost mockingly. “And where are you going, darling?” He asks amused, seeing you grab your purse and pull your clothes fast as day. It took you a bit to close the corset of the dress, but whatever.

“Away” you mutter, which causes him to laugh.

The only, genuine and loud laugh you have heard him do. Maybe the most genuine he has ever been in the time you have meet him.

“You are adorable, my sweet” he says, his tone as detached even with his amusement. “I thought it was clear. You are not going anywhere”

You look at him, as if confused. He wasn’t a vampire, it was ridiculous. It felt like a crappy movie that they passed through forgotten channels.

“Yeah, right” you say, passing through him and going into the hallway. “I am leaving” you tell him, trying to look brave, as you try to decipher the fucking mansion.

“You are scared as a kitten” Aemond says, more amused than anything “Your heart is beating like crazy, darling”

“Whatever!” You scream, finding some stairs and going down.

“And how will you ever leave? The closest town is far away for leaving on foot.”

“I’ll call a tab” you say, stubbornly, taking out your phone.

Seriously? 11%? You sighed. Aemond didn’t stop you, but let you figure it on your own. There was no signal here.

If you go, with how cold it was, you were going to die of hypothermia. And going out without a map, without a direction, you will be also dead, if not found by him. You really, really were trapped. You had to think of something else, surely, but not now…

“I see your pretty head has figured it out” Aemond says, from top of the stairs. “Now, will you take the cookies and tea I had you? I bought them just for you” he says, almost annoyed. “I can’t let my pet starve”

That was what he wanted you for. If he was a vampire, he needed blood. And he had his fill, and he had his next meal. It was you; he wanted you as food, and to fuck.

"I want my pretty angel to keep on singing for me" his tone is deep, smiling, as he teases you with those words. "My angel of music"

You want him to shut up, but at the same time, you don't.

You remember, for a moment, when he bites you with his fangs. You had thought it was with the costume, but he didn’t dress up. He surely invented he was Nosferatu, and you believed it like a fool. Those fangs weren’t fake, and they dig into your neck to draw blood from you, multiple times.

It was painful, and it stung like a bitch. You didn’t want him to feed on you.

"You have come here with one purpose and one alone" he says, as he lure you into his whims "I have needed you with me... to serve me. "

Yet when you see him smile, guiding you to eat, you feel calm, even if your mind knew he was using his dirty tricks on you, just like before. He seduced you, into his will. And gods, if you didn’t feel like you wanted just that: be his forever. To feed, to fuck, to devour.

It was surely going to drive you insane one day, yet you had to get used to it. It didn’t seem as if you were going to be out anytime soon.

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alexitheslayer02 · 18 days ago

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I just realized...

The monkeys would be the most dangerous Yanderes (don't ask why this came to mind, it's one of my groggy morning brain thoughts). Like... Wukong D.O. (Destined One) Macaque (lmk only cause I have not seen him in any other adaptation.) AND MK TOO NGL

Just... Humor me for a moment.

It probably should be obvious. But it's not just danger levels from powers, but also their personality. Like, I can picture Mackie being on "Phantom of the Opera" type shit with his theater boi ass (what in the sweet heavens did I just type?)

Whereas, Wukong would be VERY clear on everything. He will not play around. Meanwhile the obsessive/possessiveness would probably just sneak up on MK. Like, he might not even realize it until he sees you around someone else and is like "Hold up- no. No, no, no. That's not right now, get back here."

D.O. on the other hand surprises you.

-------------- My thoughts/Headcanons

-------------- //Macaque\\

You can not convince me that this dramatic, petty, theater boy little shit (/aff) would not act like dude in "Phantom of the Opera". He probably would not make anyone sing, but dammit, he is manipulative and tricksy when he wants to be. And his shadow skills would make it easy to spy on you like bro in "Phantom of the Opera" does through the mirror. I don't know if he would set a theater on fire though- At most though, he'd be the stalker that tries to keep you safe. He does get possessive, but he would only kill if he had to. He's far more patient.

//Wukong\\

The yanderest of the yanderes in this list methinks, regardless of the version. Cause yeah no, bro is legit, book canonly, unhinged as is. He is already trigger happy to kill from the start. Yes, he does try, though not very hard, to talk things out. But there are certain things he won't even bother talking out. I feel, if yandere, this would be one of the things where peace was never an option. Like, I feel he would say, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" if you try to chastise him for killing someone who looked at you wrong hhh

//MK\\

^ See this? Totally not the face of a crazy person, right?

He is a little angel! There's the danger. He has absolutely no clue how crazy he himself can get, so... like Wukong, he is a loose cannon, but in a different way. There would be no warning signs until it's too late and he is covered in....

ketchup ^^ Yeah, that's what it is, don't worry, that person is just sleeping. Sleeping very, very, VERY still. In all seriousness, murder would not be his go to problem solving method. He is smarter than that, believe it or not. Murder is illegal, and would be highly counterproductive. He'd be aggressively affectionate. Lots and lots of gifts, hugs that are perhaps a tad clingy, things like that. (I do headcanon him as a hopeless romantic. So the tropey/cheesy romance things would be his natural go to)

His insecurities though, could build up and lead to an exploding steam pot if not careful. Basically... Give the boy your attention and he should be fine for the most part. Heavens forbid he catches you cheating though... No one will survive, not even him.

//D.O.\\

Speaks one or two words a year, legitimately one of the most calm individuals in any universe. I don't think anyone has ever seen him lose his shit. While Wukong is clearly unhinged, MK hyperactive, and Macaron is dramatic, this guy seriously comes out of nowhere if you don't know what to look for. He is open, his silence however hides that. The possessive/obsessive behavior would mostly show in his body language, expressions, and how he might hold you. If you don't pay attention, it will surprise you. That is, if he ever leaves any evidence for you to be concerned over :) After all, he knows you would not like it if you found out he killed someone who got too close. So why would he let his sweetheart find out...?

---------------------------- That's all! Have a nice day :D

#alexi rambles #early morning ramblings #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk monkey king #lmk macaque #lmk mk #jttw #black myth wukong #destined one #sun wukong #liu'er mihou #qi xiaotian #yandere headcanons #phantom of the opera #lmk yandere mk #lmk yandere macaque #yandere wukong #yandere destined one

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entitled-fangirl · 10 months ago

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He may always be a demon from hell, but she still loves him.

Crowley x human!reader

Summary: The reader and Crowley discuss what she's reading. She says it reminds her of him, to which he panics.

Words: 1,784

Warnings: demon, heavy makeout session, angst, alcohol

Author's note: I don't own the character or the book mentioned in this! Eeeeek enjoy!

Masterlist <3

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Crowley looked up from the glass of bourbon in his hands as he sat in one of Aziraphale’s many chairs. There she sat across from him. The pretty little human.

Her legs were pulled up onto the couch, her body curled into itself as she held her book out in front of her to read.

She was quite pretty. He had always thought so. Of all his years on this earth, this one was by far the best he had seen. And her soul simply solidified it. Her mind, body, and soul were precious.

She was entirely focused on her book, not noticing Crowley’s gaze. He took that to his advantage, his eyes scanning her entire frame before finally resting on her face. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he would do anything to talk to her as much as he could in her lifetime.

“What are you reading, Flower?”

That was his name for her. Aziraphale was his angel, sure. And she seemed like an angel herself, the metaphorical kind, anyway. She was not like a real angel, which is annoying and dull. No, she wasn’t like that at all. He hadn’t read many books but knew how humans romanticized the term 'angel.' The innocence it carried in its title.

No, no, no. She was his flower. He spend many days searching for the right name, but once he came up with that one, it stuck like glue. He loved plants. He loved plants so much. And he loved her. She was his flower.

Now, her head perked up to let her eyes meet his. She held his gaze, admiring the snake-like pupils the demon had. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, regaining her composure. “Oh, uh…,” her voice soft, “it’s the Phantom of the Opera. Have… Have you read it, Angel?”

His eyes closed. He loved it when she called him that. He was no angel by any means, but she used the term every chance she could the day she learned that he had once been so. She had two angels as far as she was concerned. And while one had a significantly more gothic wardrobe, she still considered him just the same.

He nods, “I was around when it was written and published. Hated it then.”

Her lips slowly pull into an amused smile. “And now?”

He shrugs, looking back into her eyes, “…Do YOU like it, Flower?”

A soft breath comes from her lungs, “…Not sure, but I believe so. Won’t say until I finish it. You know how it ends, Angel?”

He shakes his head, “Can’t say I do. Didn’t care enough to finish it.”

She finds that quite amusing. She pulls her legs closer to her to get comfortable, trying to keep herself warm. “Well, I’ll let you know when I’m done, yeah? If it’s good enough, will you try to read it again?”

“Tell me why you like it so much, Flower.”

She considers his words carefully, “I… perhaps see similarities in it… sometimes. You know?”

His eyes move back down to the liquor glass in his hand. He remained quiet, a silent sigh for her elaborate on her findings.

“That was… stupid. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m… I’m sorry…”

He was much more intrigued than before. Sorry? For what? He wished sometimes he could just see what was going on in that funny little brain of hers. “No. Tell me.”

She knew that wasn’t a reassurance that he wasn’t annoyed. It was more of a demand.

“I don’t know, Crowley…”

He grins, pulling the glass to his lips to take another sip.

“Tell me what you DO know, Flower.”

Her eyes wander around the room in thought. “I suppose I feel remorse for the Phantom…”

He hums.

“…and… everyone makes him out to be a horrid creature. A vile beast worth ending. And he believes it too about himself. That he’s awful and cruel. But they don’t know anything about him. Nothing. They even assume it’s a ghost sometimes…”

By now, he’s hooked on her words. Not that he cared for the plot much, but just her. She was beautiful like this, the sunlight from the windows behind her casting a light against her back, giving her body a glowing effect.

“…anyways, this girl falls in love with him. And she finds out he’s just a man. He’s a man like anyone else. He’s not the vile thing everyone makes him out to be.”

He’s taking in every word.

Her voice drops to a low volume, “They call him a demon from hell.”

Crowley felt his jaw clench at her words.

“…But, he’s not. Not at all. He’s just a man. A man who deserves much more than life handed him. He was no demon. He could’ve been an angel. He’s kind and fair. Honest and witty. He protects her with his life. And he’s loyal. He is quite admirable, honestly.”

She held this look. It was a loving look as she stared at Crowley. This time, he could read her like an open book. She was referencing him. That everyone believed Crowley was vile and cruel. But he was just like a man.

“…You’re awfully quiet, Angel.”

That sold it for him. Angel. Her angel. His eyes closed, taking in a deep breath.

He stood up quickly, setting his glass on the side table before approaching the sofa she occupied. She noticed, scooting over slightly to make room for him, but he didn’t sit. He kneeled in front of the couch, in front of her.

If his eyes could produce tears, they’d be running. “Flower? You truly think that of me? That I’m just a man?”

She nods, her breath quickening at his proximity.

He wanted to believe her. He truly did, but he couldn’t. He leaned in, making their faces inches apart.

“You think all this and you haven’t finished the book?”

She nods again, her gaze staring to settle on his lips.

His hand reached forward, grabbing her face gently. His voice became a low growl, “And what if this angel truly is a demon from hell? Would the girl stop loving him, Flower?”

She isn’t sure what to say. She’s not sure who they’re even talking about at this point. Her gut told her to say one thing, but her head said another. And his grip on her face was not helping her focus.

“I.. I don’t think… love takes what they are into con… consideration when it chooses them…”

Satan, she was perfect. She always knew exactly what to say, the sneaky thing. It stilled his vessel’s heart, his eyes still drilling into hers.

“And… will she truly listen to her heart?”

She nods. “She would be a fool not to, Angel.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Here she was, sitting so pretty for him, her words causing a fire to erupt in his stomach. He leaned forward, pulling her face towards his.

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long because Crowley pulls away.

“Maybe you should finish the book before you make your conclusions, Flower. Perhaps he’ll always be that demon from hell.”

He stands, sliding his hands into his pockets with a sigh before exiting the bookshop.

…

Days pass and Crowley acts as if their interaction never happened. It broke her heart. Aziraphale couldn’t take the two ignoring each other and decided to fix it.

He told Crowley to be at the bookshop at a certain time. But Aziraphale wouldn’t be there. No, this was to get the demon alone with her to talk again, as they had before. And that plan worked perfectly.

This time, however, she was placing books on the bookshelf when he entered. He walked in confidently, but the confidence soon fell as he saw her pretty face.

“Oh. I… where’s Angel?”

She shrugs, “Haven’t seen him all day.”

Curse that blasted angel from his stupid plans that always work.

Crowley sighs, “I’m sorry I ran out on you.”

Her eyes finally move to find his. “I finished the book.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat at her sudden change of subject, but he went along with it nonetheless. “…Well, Flower?”

Her fingers lightly played with the spine of the book she had in her hand. “He may always be the demon from hell, but she still loves him.”

He was so stupid to leave her. To abandon his sweet Christine like this. His little flower that was always in bloom.

“Oh, Flower…”

He moved forward, immediately wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in for a kiss.

This kiss was very much different from their first. Where the first was soft and hesitant, this one was heated and passionate, as if this was their only method of communication. And to Crowley, it was. He needed her to see just how much her words meant to him. How much he craved to feel her lips on his again. How he imagined her the nights before.

Her hands move to him, the book in her hand long forgotten. One rested on his forearm, the other cradling his face. She kissed him back with as much reverence as he did. She needed him to know she didn’t care. She didn’t care about what he was. What he did. She needed him to know that she loved him.

She loved him.

His tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip. She left out a soft moan, paring her lips. His tongue gently began to explore her mouth, their bodies holding each other in fear that they could be ripped from each other at any moment.

She gently pushed him away, needing to catch her breath. “Sorry… sorry, Angel.. just… just gotta breathe…”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her jaw lightly, trailing the kisses up towards her ear before whispering softly, “‘If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me.’”

She let out a soft gasp, and her hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. “You… you know it?”

She could practically feel his smile against her neck, his voice vibrating the bones there, “Read it again after we talked…. All the way through this time…”

She was speechless at his words. He had went back and not only read the story for her, but then was able to quote it. She had never felt love radiate in a room until this very moment in time.

She pulled him back in for another sweet kiss.

He was no demon. To her, he was an angel. Her angel.

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#crowley #anthony j crowley #crowley imagine #crowley x reader #good omens #good omens x reader #good omens fanfiction #demon fanfiction #aziraphale #crowley good omens #crowley fanfiction #crowley oneshot

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yona049 · 7 months ago

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𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

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(For ambiance~)

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Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

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wordstome · 1 year ago

Text

kingdom come - i

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with

3.5k words

tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new

[NEXT]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.

p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.

Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.

You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.

You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.

A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.

The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.

They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.

As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.

You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.

You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.

The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.

Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.

To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.

Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.

This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.

You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?

Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.

You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.

Well. Parent.

But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.

Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.

It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.

And yet…people are happy.

The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.

You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.

And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.

You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.

To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.

Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.

You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.

“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.

He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.

When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.

You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.

He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.

After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.

You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.

Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.

You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?

Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.

Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.

Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.

Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.

"You shouldn't be here."

You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.

Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.

"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."

You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.

"This is quite a long way to wander."

Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.

"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"

"Mmm. You make a fair point."

Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."

"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."

"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"

Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.

"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.

You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?

"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"

You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."

"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.

"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.

He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."

You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."

And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.

Fuck. You forgot about this part.

You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.

You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.

"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.

"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.

"Well. Tonight won't be your first."

"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.

"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.

You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.

It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"

"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"

"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.

"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.

"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.

"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?

You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.

"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."

You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.

The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.

It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.

It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.

Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.

You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.

You plunge the dagger downwards.

In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"

You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!

You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.

"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."

"No." Yeah, you kind of had.

"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.

"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.

"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.

"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."

"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.

"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.

That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!

"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.

"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."

"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.

"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"

"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."

His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."

Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!

I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.

Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.

As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.

I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr

#alright lads place your bets now what do you think happened to his first wife #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

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n1ght0f-nyx · 9 months ago

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Phantom's Adoration

erik deslter x reader- 538 words

tags- kinda angst mostly fluff, stalking, low-key submissive erik (even though this isn't smut) cause thats the truth :) canon true stalking/yandere themes

In the grand opera house of Paris, shadows danced and whispered secrets of love and tragedy. Among them lurked Erik Destler, the Phantom of the Opera, a figure veiled in darkness and mystery. From the depths of his hidden lair, he watched the world above with a heart heavy with longing, knowing that his disfigured face would forever keep him hidden from the light.

Yet amidst the bustling theater, there was one soul who captured his attention like no other – you. You, with your graceful movements and enchanting voice, seemed to float through the corridors like a melody, filling his solitary existence with warmth and light.

From the shadows, Erik watched you rehearse, your every step and note igniting a fire within him. He listened to the passion in your voice, feeling his own heart swell with a love he knew could never be. For how could someone as wondrous as you ever look upon him with anything but fear and disgust?

But still, he couldn't help but dream. Dream of a world where he could stand beside you in the brilliance of the stage, where he could hold you close and whisper his love into the night. In his mind, he spun tales of romance and redemption, where even the darkest of souls could find solace in the arms of an angel.

Yet reality was a cruel mistress, and Erik knew that his fantasies could never come to pass. So he remained hidden, content to watch from afar, knowing that the shadows were his only refuge.

As the days turned into weeks, Erik's love for you only grew stronger, his every thought consumed by the image of your radiant smile. He longed to reach out to you, to confess the depths of his affection, but he feared the rejection that would surely follow.

And so he remained silent, resigned to his fate as the Phantom of the Opera, forever condemned to love from the shadows.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

One fateful night, as the opera house lay shrouded in darkness, you wandered into Erik's domain, a curious light in your eyes. Startled, he watched as you explored the cavernous halls, your laughter echoing off the stone walls.

In that moment, Erik knew that he could no longer hide. Stepping out from the shadows, he revealed himself to you, his heart pounding with fear and anticipation.

You gasped at the sight of him, but to his surprise, there was no trace of fear in your eyes, only curiosity and perhaps a hint of something more.

"I have watched you from afar, my dear," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "And though I am but a man in truth, i can assure you my love for you burns brighter than any angels could."

Tears welled in his eyes as i reached out to him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his teary cheek.

"you're...," i started softly, my voice a gentle melody in the darkness. "You’re…my angel of music?"

In that moment, Erik knew that his love for you was not in vain. For even in the darkest of places, there exists a glimmer of hope – a chance for redemption, you.

#erik destler x reader #phantom of the opera #phantom of the paradise #erik poto #erik destler #phantom of the opera x reader #erik the phantom #poto #i love him #so much #ahhhhh

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paranormaltheatrekid · 6 months ago

Note

Use this as an excuse to dump a bunch of Hatchetfield headcanons, go wild.

Wow ok here we go:

-Ted Spankoffski is a pineapple pizza enjoyer.

-While we’re on the topic of Ted, Tinky definitely keeps clumps of his hair in a bag somewhere.

-Like Richie, Steph used to have dyed hair at some point.

-Becky Barnes is very much an animal person. She definitely got multiple pets once Stanley was gone.

-I didn’t create this headcanon, but I just adore it: Duke named his cat after Miss Holloway.

-Paul likes ice Carmel frappes. He just orders black coffee because it’s easy for Emma.

-Alice Woodward listens to Chappell Roan religiously.

-Webby’s favorite brother was Wiggly. They used to be really close.

-Miss Holloway definitely had the gift even before she made the deal. She saw Webby and stuff.

-Ruth is a Hamilton fanatic.

-Despite the fact that he didn’t make it, Pokey loves the phantom of the opera. He tries to make Paul be Cristine. He hates it, obviously.

-Xander Lee is John’s husband.

-Max and Stephanie were childhood friends.

-Lex and Ethan are bi4bi

-The nerds cosplay together. Ted takes them to conventions and teases them about it, but he secretly loves going.

-Miss Holloway runs karaoke nights at the diner. Her and Duke do duets together.

-Richie’s favorite food is the Miku ramen.

-Hannah Foster likes the Percy Jackson books.

-Also, Hannah didn’t speak until she was like 10 or 11.

-Charles Coven had involvement with Peip. He knew John and Wilbur.

-Nibbly is either the best cook ever or burns everything he touches. No in between.

-Shelia Young and Linda Monroe are both heavy red wine drinkers. Also, Shelia knows the Murrays through the church so she definitely knows Linda.

-I’m not really sure about this one, but I think it would be cool if Miss Holloway was related to the Waylon family.

-Max is secretly a musical theatre enjoyer.

-Kyle isn’t in the best of you scene because Grace killed him before Jason.

-Grace learned how to bury bodies from watching the Jerries. Or perhaps she learned from her mother.

-Benji, the kid who was said to have been able to talk to dogs in yellow jacket, was Scrags from the solve it squad.

-Blinky is an avid smut reader.

-Hannah made Ethan a bracelet. It’s his prized possession.

-Grace used to have a crush on Alice.

-Wilbur Cross has green eyes, like bright green. Idk that he doesn’t. I think he should.

-Charlotte makes her own sweaters. She gave the CCRP gang ones for their birthdays. Bill and Melissa love theirs. Paul hates his. Ted pretends to dislike his, but he’s glad that she made him one.

-Melissa and Woman are gay and in love.

-The reason that Webby taught Hannah how to play the ukulele was because her brother Pokey taught her how to play instruments.

-Linda’s mom was definitely a honey queen.

-Pete is really interested in space. I think it suits him, but also know he can be the space bastard to Ted’s time bastard.

-Forever and Always!Paulkins adopt a dog and multiple kids.

-Nibbly’s human forms are inspired by past honey queens.

-Zoey and Zach used to be very close as kids.

-Steph is very good at makeup. She practices her skills on Pete.

-Some movies Miss Holloway likes are labyrinth and the princess bride. She will not watch a movie made past the 90s. Brenda calls her old.

-Paul doesn’t hate Moana. He is the only one who knows all the lyrics.

#hatchetfield #starkid #thanks for the ask!

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sad-outsider · 2 months ago

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"I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but me."

I swear this is the most yandere quote I've ever heard.

Anti talks about hatred, but I see love bordering on obsession here, which is not surprising, because Alina is now Aleksander's only companion in eternity and he is trying his best to make sure that she stays with him. Yes, he acts radically (albeit rationally in terms of the strategy to lure Alina out), but given his upbringing (remember, Bagra said that she would destroy hundreds of villages to ensure his safety) and a past consisting of hundreds of years of cruelty, this particular action is not surprising. Perhaps, if Alina answered his call earlier, this would not have happened, but we have what we have…

In any case, I can't deny that Darkling is a yandere. This is the pure truth and I even like this trait to some extent (I generally like yandere villains, for example, Phantom of the Opera, Darth Vader or All for One).

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #the darkling #alina starkov #darklina

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sylacris · 10 months ago

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— “say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime.”

alternatively: “save me, lead me from my solitude.” / i finally release the draft that’s been catching cobwebs in my docs since june 2023

phantom of the opera! dazai osamu x gn! reader

cws: possibly ooc, self indulgent.

wc: 1.0k

Track down the murderer! Do not let that animal escape!" The mob screams in rage, a fury directed at the one and only culprit of the chaos in the opera house.

They’ve had enough of this- this phantom. His demands, his actions, and how he acts like he's a being above them—the mob rallies above ground with torches and pitchforks, fueled by absolute despise for such a being.

"Too long has his reign of darkness terrorized this opera!" Shouts of agreement ring in the half-destroyed theater house, debris and glass littered across every surface of the floor, faint smoke wafting in the air as the mob charges underground.

"The phantom resides deep below! This monster cannot be left alive anymore!"

The echoes reverberate in the underground chambers; they are faint and barely audible, but you knew they were looking for him. Yet here he was, holding you like a vice in his arms, and yet his touch is soft, even warm. An arm circled around your waist while the other held your hand, faintly caressing your knuckles as if attempting to soothe you.

He leaned closer to your body, a slight weight piling on your back, burying his face in the crook of your neck, a sigh escaping his lips, his breath tickling your skin. You could only attempt to look at him through your peripherals, his tousled brown hair being the first thing you set your sights on.

The hand that held yours snakes upwards; he places both yours and his hand where your heart is. "May you sing for me, my angel?" he requests, and if you listened closely enough, it was as if he was begging, a tone you’ve only heard from him in jest, or perhaps in your unwaking nights.

"Osamu…" You voiced it out, the response to his words seemingly out of your reach.

He tilts his head. Dazai is not one to plead, however. "Please? For me?" He smiles softly. The traces of ‘the phantom’, the chaos incarnate that runs rampant along the crevices of the opera house, are no longer there; instead, it's the face of a man whose devotion to you—and only you—surpassed that of a thousand men in many lifetimes.

If that viscount could make you royalty, Dazai could make you an angel, he’d burn everything to ashes, meet death, and come back just for you. He’d repent, like the demon that he is, just to see you eye-to-eye, just to be able to hold you in his arms and call you his.

You knew he would do anything for you, and perhaps that was what instilled an odd fondness for such a man. His eyes reflected such solitude, an unwarranted loneliness befitting a shunned child.

Yet in those same eyes lies adoration, his piercing gaze thrilling your soul.

Adhering to his request, you gently hum a tune, one that he wrote for you to sing to. His gaze is fixated on you, a satisfied smile finding a place on his lips. His expression is akin to a child being given candy; you could almost excuse all his crimes with such a look.

Almost.

The arms wrapped around you let go, freeing you of his weight. You continued to vocalize as Dazai grabbed your hand in his and placed his other hand on your waist. Slow steps gradually turned into a waltz led by him.

“Come, embrace the darkness.” He softly sang to your tune, “Forget those earthly fears.”

"I'm here to keep you, to hide you,” he whispers. “Through music, I beguile you.”

He seems to be enjoying himself as you match his tune, with the final duet between a demon and his beloved angel taking turns. A duet only for the two of you to perform and to witness.

“Who appears to me—a friend or phantom?”

The hand on his waist moves to cup his cheek lightly; you could only guess that such an act surprised him as his eyes widened from your touch before leaning into it, savoring your touch.

"Who twines music for my soul to sing?"

A fond smile appears on your face, one that he wouldn't dare miss under the candlelit glow of his chambers.

"Show yourself to me, distorted angel."

“Do you fear the light as I fear for you? "You tilt your head as his eyes trail away from you.

"Are you afraid I'll leave you too?"

The hold on your waist falters ever so slightly as he lifts your hand, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. His melancholy so obvious, with a downcast air to him, yet he still manages to smile, that smile still persists; it’s almost disheartening how controlled he is. almost.

“I promise I'll keep you safe; let your fears be no more, my angel.” His honeyed tone tempted you with a promise, one of pure, unadulterated love, just for you.

“Let me be your freedom, your place of solace, a hideaway from the world above. Let us run away together, my angel.��

Dazai tilts your chin up, meeting his gaze—a look filled with hesitation as his eyes drop to your lips.

Yet the moment was fleeting, for the mob seemed to have come closer. Distant shouting, an angry cacophony. Who knows what they’ll do to you and to him once they reach these chambers?

(Kill. They’ll kill him.)

“Do you love me? "You whispered under your breath.

“What kind of question is that? "He raises an eyebrow, as if he has time to tease in this situation. With wholehearted assurance, he replies,

"You know I do."

He leans in to leave a small peck on your forehead, restrained even until now, when everything is high-stakes, yet that kiss alone seems to say everything you needed to know, yet at the same time, everything you already knew.

He hesitates at first before letting go of you. Walking to one of the draperies in the chambers, his hand grasps it before putting it to the side, revealing to you a secret exit. Of course. Of course, he of all people would have an exit strategy.

The downcast gleam in his eyes seems to disappear for just this once, as he’s back to that loveable, cat-like grin. With his other hand, he extends it to you as a final confirmation, a decision that you cannot undo once made.

And just this once, you’ve never been so sure of anything else.

#☁️ aes’ musings #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs

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