#phantom of the opera AU

[pixiepipedreams]

༺୨♡︎୧༺ — i am your angel of music // prologue

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader, eventual gi-hun x reader ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is in her 20s, in-ho & gi-hun are late in their 40s), eventual mature themes ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 1.6k ♡  ⁄ summary: a mere background dancer in the sigongkwan theater, you've spent the last year receiving voice lessons from your angel of music. PHANTOM OF THE OPERA AU. (or should i call it, frontman of the opera--)

》﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ⊹* 。 • 。* ☾☼☽ * 。° 。* ⊹ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ₊ ˚﹒ 《

A calm hush has settled over Sigongkwan Theatre. Sure, the sub-level basement, directly under the theater, plays host to the rehearsal after-party, debauchery unleashing on the theater group after a day of exhaustive work. But the halls, the dressing rooms, the theater itself, all remain silent and darkened. Few buildings have electricity in the newly divided southern Korea, and Sigongkwan relies on gas lamps and candles. With almost every resident of the theater in the only known basement level, the halls remain shrouded in midnight.

Every room is silent. Silent, but, at the very end of the hallway, there’s flickering glow peeking through the crack of the final door and the floor below it. It's only noticeable if you’re very close, if your eye catches on it.

The room is silent, an unused dressing room - except for a couple hours every night. The only light to see by are two candles - both lit by you. One for yourself, and one for the angel that visits you. Angels don't need light, you know this – it's out of respect more than anything else. You sit in front of the mirror, the dark room lingering behind you, an omnipotent presence that you could fear.

You're not afraid. You never would be. Not when your angel is coming.

The simple cotton dress that covers your legs as you sit in near-darkness is white, traditional sleepwear that leaves you open, vulnerable. To nobody else would you show yourself like this. Your hair is still wavy from the braid you wear to rehearsals, where you perform as a simple ensemble dancer. No lines, and certainly no singing part, has ever been assigned to you. When you first joined the theater group, your audition had only been for the part of dancer. Your voice was like an unpolished jewel, a precious gem that you’d tucked away to gather dust and lose its clarity after the death of your father.

Your angel believes you deserve to be the star. His quiet praise is just as intoxicating as his singing, even if you have a hard time believing you deserve anything more than the shadows you tuck yourself away in. His shadows.

“My dear muse.” A soft voice, quiet and measured, but somehow it always fills the room. Your wide eyes shine in the darkness, looking around for him like you always do, though he’s never revealed himself to you. It’s always just you and your own reflection, the two candles, and his voice. “Your performance today was the epitome of grace, elegance.” Head tilting, your eyes flutter shut, savoring the sound of that enigmatic voice.

A smile graces your lips, and you wait to hear more, but it doesn’t come. He speaks as little as is necessary, in these lessons, these secret meetings where you commune with the heaven he brings to you. “My angel,” you whisper, your voice hardly more than a breath. “Thank you. You’re too kind, as always.” Your fingers splay over the skirt of your dress, smoothing over the wrinkles, the desire to be perfect for him. “I am humbled by your return every night, to better my voice. I only wish to make you proud.” You duck your head respectfully, your voice filled with the ever-present awe of this gift he’s devoted to giving you. “I only wish I could give you something in return, more than this candle - an offering? Prayer?” Though, you and he both know that you pray to him nightly, that every moment on stage is an offering to him.

“Your melodic voice is the only gift in this room, dearest muse.” His murmur is like a balm to your soul, grace touching your ears. “Shall we begin our lesson?”

Little do you know, your dear angel watches you through the mirror you sit so devotedly in front of. Man, not angel, not pure heavenly being. He watches you, as always, with dark eyes, your perfect form, the way your own gaze seems to find his face, even in the dark, even with his obscured figure. It used to make him worry, that you saw through his trick mirror, his ruse, his little game. It doesn't feel like much of a game anymore - this obsession, deep and insidious, that has claimed him as surely as it has you.

The first time he’d heard your voice, it was sweet honey dripping down the side of a cup of yuja tea. You had thought you were alone - perhaps you were. He’s nothing more than a phantom, after all, a ghost stalking the walls and rafters of the theater. It was in those very walls that he’d first spied on you, heard the way you quietly sung to yourself as you brushed your hair. Fixation. Instant fixation. In a decade or so of solitude, you had shimmered like a vigil of hope. Watching you was easy, spending most of his days listening as you quietly lingered in the background, on the edges of the performance group. Your one friend, Yong-sik, was how In-ho learned more about you, your father. Your belief in him, like religion, and your certainty that one day, he would send to you an angel.

You made it too easy.

Whispers that would call to you in your small room, practically a closet, until one night you were drawn from your bed, following them down the halls. Until you came across this very room. One burning candle, and one unlit.

He can still see the confusion that had clouded your expression, but also the hope. As if you already understood what he wanted from you, you’d lit the other candle. Accepting him, offering yourself. That was the first night that he sang for you, taught you one of his songs. And slowly, ever so carefully, he coaxed out your persimmon-sweet voice. Since that night, over a year ago now, he’s coached you, taught you - and you, always his faithful student, were such a quick learner.

Perhaps tonight, In-ho feels nostalgic. The gentle tilt of your face, the perfect fall of your hair… You look the same as the first night, but now, there is only pure trust and adoration in your expression. His perfect muse. “Night and day… you are the one,” he croons in a low voice, carrying each note with a sweet caress. “Only you beneath the moon or under the sun… Whether near to me or far... it's no matter, darling, where you are... I think of you… Night and day....”

Just like that first night, you answer with the response to his call, your sweet voice carrying the next lines. Lighting the second candle, like you always do. “Day and night… Why is it so…. that this longing for you follows wherever I go?” Your eyes close slightly, lost in the words, in the joy of singing. “Hibiscus flowers’ bloom…. In the silence of my lonely room... I think of you… Night and day....”

“Like the persistent drip of raindrops…” He calls.

“When the summer shower is through…” You respond.

And finally, finally, your voices join together, mixing into the most saccharine melody, a perfect match. “So a voice within me keeps repeating you, you, you…” It’s the sweetest euphoria, a delicious drug running through his veins. He watches you, your eyes closed, your expression absolute bliss, and he knows you feel it too, the union of your voices, of your very souls. “Night and day, under the hide of me… There's such a hungry yearning burning inside of me… And its torment won't be through… ‘Till you let me spend my life devoted to you…” Your eyes flutter open, the glaze in them almost pushing him to slide away the mirror and pull you directly into his arms, to see you crumble into him. You’re beautiful, perfect, just like this, looking like you’re enchanted, just from his voice, from feeling it swirl inside you.

“Day and night…”

“Night and day…”

Your voices overlap on the final line, two perfect counterparts, and you take a shuddering gasp as the familiar melody finishes. That song… the very first one he taught you… It feels different, now. You’ve learned so much as his student, but also… you’ve grown so deeply fond of your angel. The sound of the music you make together is nothing short of rapturous. A dreamy smile spreads across your lips, and you blink, wishing, yearning for more, always more.

“Don’t go, my angel,” you say, before you can stop yourself. “Forgive me, I-I speak out of turn, I ask too much of you, but…” But it’s a lonely existence, in this theater. More so, you’ve been lonely ever since your father passed. Though you grew up without a mother, your father had loved you enough to fill both parental roles - your childhood had been filled with laughter and light, singing and music.

You lost the music, for years. But now, your angel, sent by your father himself, has brought it all back, by candlelight and the beams of the moon. You’d forgo every single break of dawn if it meant the loneliness would end, to fill your life with that harmony that only he brings you.

A soft sound, almost a sigh - or maybe the wind outside, tricking your ears, for surely angels don’t sigh? “Soon, my perfection,” he murmurs, his words sending a shudder through you. “Our union is near, sweet [Y/N]... just know, I am always by your side, always with you…”

It sounds like a promise, like everything you've ever wanted. So why does a chill run down your spine?

》﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ⊹* 。 • 。* ☾☼☽ * 。° 。* ⊹ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ₊ ˚﹒ 《

A/N: sooo... i went a little insane planning this story out. aka, a lot of research on the aftermath of wwii on korea/south korea, and when western opera was introduced. placing it in paris didn't quite make sense, and i'm going to be taking a lot of creative liberties when it comes to the opera(s?) performed and the history of this particular theater, even though most of it will be background details that aren't even particularly necessary. i wanted to put out a prologue to introduce the story a bit... still deciding some things (like, will i have in-ho be wearing the mask to hide a disfigurement, or will it be more like sg s2, where he's secluded himself due to the death of the only person he cared about, and introduces himself as young-il at some point? decisions, decisions). hope you guys are down to join me on this journey lol, i promise i'll still be posting other stories that are much simpler in concept. also yes, the song they're singing is a slightly altered frank sinatra song... it felt very thematically fitting.

taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid, @bloooooopblopblop, @in-hos-wife

[lumhos]

phantom of the opera (inspired) x tomarry au

harry who goes through great lengths to break ginny out of the phantom’s spell, defying and fighting back against tom.

ginny who is caught up in the angel of music’s spell, body losing energy as her mind is slowly devoured.

tom who watches from the shadows as this new player destroys his plans, feeling sheer wrath but also curiousity.

au in which harry fails to save ginny from the phantom, only able to watch as the girl he once loved turns into this creature of the night. lifeless and controller by a man he’s grown to despise.

au in which tom brings the operahouse to increasing amounts of success, spreading his music through ginny’s body. watching with a sly grin as harry goes mad trying to find where he is.

au where harry cries as he watches ginny sing, voice so beautiful that he hates how he knows it isn’t hers. how he hates the way her eyes are glazed, body moving too smoothly, and how whenever he looks at her, he sees him. he lies awake at night, haunted by tom’s music. the melodies cradle him in a suffocating grasp.

au where harry and tom become obsessed with another. one because of hatred, a deep growing rage that settles in his chest, right besides his beating heart. one because of intrigue and lust, observing how his actions drive the other mad.

au in which during the final showdown, despite ginny being gone a long time before, harry and tom fight face to face. flushed in the face for different yet similar reasons, its dangerous. brutal. life threatening.

au in which tomarry dies in each others arms, blazing green fire that burns down the operahouse. as rubble and walls collapse besides them, their eyes meet. covered in each other’s blood, harry dies with a sharp sneer, eyes wet with emotions he cannot name.

tom dies with a soft smile, perhaps the only one he’s ever given.

[bbybluemochi]

yurifies phantom of the opera .𖥔 ݁ ˖

[and-bone-appetit]

:3

Edit: Nightmare and Dream belong to Jokublog

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

🎭Phantom of The Opera! GhostJade🌹💀

Happy Halloween! ( •̀ .̫ •́ )✧

This took me longer than I wanted to admit and I'm obviously late 😭 But here it is! Did a poll on Tumblr about which character GhostJade should dress up as for Halloween, and Phantom of The Opera was the top one.

I took the colors/vibe from the 2004 movie with Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum. Ghost with that mask looks better than I imagined! Jade is just so fun to draw as usual (not the dress though 😭)

Anyway, hope you like it and let us all welcome MWIII! ✨

Support me on Ko-Fi! ✨

[livelaughliushen]

I can’t even defend myself for this one heres a good old fashioned phantom of the opera au.

Close up because their faces are some of the best I’ve ever drawn

[captainlion04]

tlt nation... i come to you with gifts...

[muraae]

→vaultghoul moodboard(s): the phantom of the opera

‘if i am the phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so. if i am to be saved it is because your love redeems me.’

it begins on the night of the gala. ballerina and aspiring singer lucy maclean finds her taking center stage when the prima donna has fallen ill. she is a sensation over night and ensares the hearts of half the city, none more so than a strange creature who calls himself her teacher. a mysterious disfigured composer who haunts the halls of the opera house.

[py-dreamer]

Heeheehee

Phantom of opera go brrrrr

...or at least in Macaque's dreams

Last minute cause yes. Might make a lmk halloween costume set this year too. Might not

Not very original, not my idea but fun to do

@furornocturna heheheheeeheheee

Went to a halloween dinner/buffet with my life size iron fan's banana leaf fan model and a plain long red dress.

I looked like iron fan in pajamas.

Got stuffed with cake too, felt like I was gonna burst. Felt like Zhu Bajie for a moment there.

[maggie44paint]

phantom of the théâtre des vampires ft. devil's minion

[craeatus]

Trust the process

[your-nanas-house]

Her Phantom (of the opera)

◇ Pairing: Phantom of the Opera!Anakin Skywalker X Christine!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, creep behaviour, singing, opera, mentor x student, masturbation, kind of... dark!Anakin (?)

◇ Summary: Anakin gets turned on during a singing rehearsal with his student.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. This is inspired by the Phantom of the Opera. Requested by @itlover8000 . I'm so so so sorry that it took me so long, hope you like it, let me know if you wanted something else.

His eyes remained still on her, taking in her beautiful hair, skin, her eyes and lovely dress that hugged her body in such a lovely way... showing off her cleavage in a delicious way, all pushed up and pressed together.

"Keep singing" Anakin ordered in a low voice as his Adam's apple bubbled... the light of the candles making her skin glow up even more, making her look divine.

His heart was beating faster at the mere view, his breath hitched in his throat as his pants tightened.

Her voice was so melodic and high, reaching just the perfect notes and showing how her chest moved up and down. Her tits nearly spilling out of the corset after a particular note.

Magnificent... divine... angelic.

She was all this adjectives and even more.... his little bird... songbird.

A particular note and his body shivered in pleasure, his hand started to palm himself as his cock throbbed inside of the restrictions of his pants.

"Higher.. again" Anakin required, clearing his throat to not sound breathless or needy... and so get caught.

She took a deep breath and opened a couple of buttons of her dress, her corset now giving her an unpleasant feeling because of all the practice.

The lights were on her, blinding her from the surrounding and from the sinful things her mentor was doing. She could just see a glimpse of the white mask which adorned just a side of his face.

Another deep breath and she started to sing again, following his requests... so to try and replace the company's prima donna.

In vain of the effect he had on Anakin, of his obsessive and passionate love that hid inside him.

So she sang... note after note, till she reached the highest one just when Anakin gave the last pump at his cock; cumming exactly when she finished and relaxing his whole body as her soft melody died slowly down.

"Magnificent" he praised as his Adam's apple bobbed.

[starlightpixels]

♫ Think of Me, Think of me fondly... ♫

[reimulin-art]

The Angel of Parkour

AKA the Seavbo Phantom of the Opera AU no one asked for

lighting and perspective aren’t real shhhh

[cheriihoney]

First meeting between mc and phantom!jack. In this au, he calls mc moonlight instead of sunshine because without him mc woudlfe never been primadonna :))

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Help me choose a pose for the GhostJade Phantom of The Opera AU guys 👀👌

Do you prefer :

(A)

Or (B)?

Kinda wanna make both and I'll post them but maybe which one is the main one? Vote below 👀

LEAVE A COMMENT ALSO I LIKE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧