#screaming phantom of the opera in bedroom

[cupcakeinat0r]

Therapy is so overrated, y’all know what has literally the same, if not, an even BETTER effect?

Karaoke in ur bedroom at 1AM.

[capr1pengu1n]

be advised, no restitution comes tonight

Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to attend a Halloween party, once Jonathan sees you in your outfit, he can't seem to keep his hands to himself

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), dom!Jonathan, roleplay, costumes, corruption kink, choking, spanking, fear play(ish), creampie

Words: 2.6k

Notes: Happy halloween! <3 Hope you all have a spooky day! <3

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With a sigh, Jonathan adjusts the cloak that wraps around his dark ensemble, looking in the mirror with a critical eye. Halloween has always been his favourite holiday, and why wouldn't it be? The night where everyone in Gotham is after a thrill, a scare. And he'd be there to give it to them, pumping his fear gas into whatever nightclub room or cinema screening he fancied, watching on in glee as people screamed and sobbed at the intensity of their nightmarish visions. He'd laugh to himself, analysing their facial expressions, estimating their heart rate, placing small bets as to which person would crack first.

Ideally that's what he'd be doing now, but as he adjusted the ridiculous costume you'd made him wear, he had to place those thoughts away. Being invited to a party was not his idea of a good time, but he knew the optics, he knew he had to show his face, if only for an hour or two before he could slip away and start his own night of fun. And if some liquidized fear toxin just happened to make it's way into whatever stupidly expensive liquor Nygma would be sure to be drinking, then he supposes he'll just have to enjoy the show.

"Y'done yet?" He calls out to you, eyeing the bedroom door with slight annoyance. The sooner you both leave, the sooner he can get this whole socialisation over with. Muttering to himself, he checks his watch before the telltale creak of the door opening makes his eyes dart up.

You'd told him your idea of a couples costume, and he'd scoffed at first. It was only when you promised to watch some obscure french horror film with him that he finally relented and allowed you to order the costume in his measurements. But now he realises it was worth it, if only to see you looking so...delectable.

You grin as you walk up to him, long white dress trailing with each step. He watches your eyes go to the mask, and the slight blush that forms on your cheek as you take him in.

While he'd read the novel, he had never seen the film or stage adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera, only familiar with the mask that now adorns his sharp features. So he hadn't known what to expect when you said you were dressing as Christine. Immediately his hands go to trace the lace sleeves of the dress, bony digits caressing the pattern downwards.

"Jon...you look amazing." you say with a smile, the white mask coupled with the dark suit and cloak really making him appear more villainous. His stature means he looms over you as you speak, and the faintest trace of a smirk becomes etched on his face as he realises the effect he's having.

Not that his trousers hadn't gotten more tight the second he'd seen you, the picture of innocence in virginal white, your hair up and adorned with little gems. To tease you, he grabs your wrist and holds it up, pulling you closer and not letting you pull away.

"Don't you look like a little angel." he taunts, eyes dragging up and down you once again, settling on your cleavage shamelessly. Your breathing increases, slightly intentional on your part to make your chest rise and fall in an obvious way.

"Do I?" you ask, slightly coquettishly as you smile up at him. In return, the grip on your wrist tightens a little.

"You do darlin'...so innocent and corruptible."

At his words, you flush slightly as he bends down to run his nose gently along the side of your neck. The gesture makes your lips part, tilting your head and baring yourself to him as a sign of implicit submission. And he likes that.

"The Phantom wants the girl, doesn't he?" he asks, his voice slightly rougher as you nod in confirmation. "Can see why, but does she want him?"

"In the film she does...she's drawn to his mystery I think."

He hums in response, leaning down but stopping just before his lips graze your skin, content to watch the slight shiver the action elicits from you. "And what about you?"

"If it's you, then I'd follow you anywhere. Even in the depths of your lair beneath an opera house." you say breathlessly with a soft laugh, attempting to make light of the situation to save yourself the embarrassment of admitting just how turned on you've became by Jonathan doing barely anything.

He finally lets go of your wrist, but not before pushing you so your back hits the hallway wall. This time when he leans down, he does leave a soft kiss right on your pulse point, and the soft whimper that escapes your throat makes him grin.

"Jonathan...we have to go, we don't want to be late." You say, attempting to have some control over yourself. But he doesn't let you move, still crowding you against the wall.

"I have to get in character, don't I?" he teases, and you could curse his southern drawl for sounding too attractive in this moment as his breath tickles your ear. "I'm a very...passionate man after all, am I not? One that is hopelessly in love with the beautiful young opera singer."

His tone is almost mocking, but it doesn't stop you from biting your lip as his chest nearly presses against yours. Teeth gently graze your earlobe before he continues. "And my beautiful prey has stumbled into my lair so willingly, in such a temptin' outfit."

He punctuates his words by running his hands up your sides, thinking the fabric is too soft, too delicate for a man like him to be touching. But that is precisely what's turning him on, as he holds you in place. "Perhaps I should demonstrate to her the depths of my desires...show her what she's missin' out on in her pristine life."

His words act like a sharp knife, cutting through your worry of being punctual as he can observe your shoulders relaxing. To seal the deal, he brings his mouth to the side of your neck and bites down, leaving a mark. "So I can taint her."

With a shaky sigh, you nod, giving him the permission he was waiting for. His hands reach up to cup your tits, feeling the top of them roughly beneath his callous fingers. You arch your back a little, enjoying the touch despite the slight discomfort.

"Tell me my dear...are you scared of me?" he mutters, his voice taking on a dark edge as he gets into character, well, his version at least.

"Y-Yes." you say softly, playing up the innocent victim angle, just like you know he likes.

"You should be...these hands have ended the lives of many men who cross me, of men who think they can have you."

Despite the make believe aspect, your breath still catches and your hips still buck at his words, heat blossoming between your legs. Of course he catches this, moving his hands down to feel your hips, head dipping to kiss down your neck to your collarbones.

"And yet you come to me so willingly, such eager prey."

At his words, he traces his teeth down, not quite breaking the skin but giving you the threat that he could. You let out a deliciously desperate noise, almost tempted to beg but deciding against it. Jonathan always liked the thrill of the chase, of wearing you down and frightening you into submission. And you loved to give him that.

"What are you going to do to me?" you ask, proud of yourself for how convincing you made your apprehension sound.

"Oh angel..." he croons, pulling away to look at you, grasping your jaw for good measure. "Whatever I please."

At his words, he grips your wrist once more before pulling you into the bedroom. You stumble to match his pace as he takes a moment to look at you once more. It's almost clinical, the way he stares at you.

"I wonder what you'll look like beneath me." he says aloud, starting to circle you, relishing in the embarrassment that seems to radiate from you. You fight to keep still, fiddling with your sleeve before he settles behind you.

His hands go to the back of your dress, where you’d nearly cracked your back attempting to tie a cute little bow. Feeling the dress loosen, you know he’s undone it, before he reaches around to grip at your throat, pulling your back roughly against his chest. He doesn't move or relax his grip, simply humming and pressing his mouth to your jawline.

"You're tremblin' like a leaf." he says in a self-satisfied manner. "Maybe I should show y'the things I can make you feel."

Pressing his fingers in a little, the sensation of him choking you has a soft mewl escape your lips, eyelids fluttering shut. Your life is in his hands, both in the roleplay and in reality, and it causes your thighs to press together firmly.

"The pleasure that comes from fear, the endorphins your body releases when you’re unsure if you should run or submit.”

He hisses the last word into your ear, before bending you over the bed. You yelp softly, bracing your fall on your elbows as he quickly pushes the long white skirt up. As more of your skin is revealed, he lets out a guttural noise as he sees the matching white stockings and garter belts you’d put on underneath.

“Such a fuckin’ sight.” He says, snapping the elastic of the stocking against your skin to make you jump.

His constantly cold hands trace up to your panties, feeling the wet material beneath his fingertip. Smirking, he circles it methodically, your clit receiving a dull stimulation.

“Please…” you beg him softly, trying to grind down on his digit.

He wants nothing more than to drag this out, to make you beg and scream for him before he finally takes you. But he knows time is fleeting, and you both need to make an appearance soon. So he quickly pulls down your underwear, so they stay around your knees, before pushing a finger inside your sloppy sounding cunt.

“So wet…I knew you were secretly a dirty angel. Practically soaking through your nice underwear. All f’me.”

At his words he pushes a second one inside, stretching you out as he fucks you with a suprisingly gentle rhythm. Your thighs shake a little, and images of you screaming and writhing with his fear toxin in your system flash across his mind.

Pushing back against him, the rhythm of your hips moving forces him out of his daydream, and he deems you stretched enough to pull his fingers out, wiping them on your ass.

He fiddles with the zipper of his costume, before he gets an idea. Grabbing you, he forces you around the bed, so you’re still bent over, but are now facing the mirror you'd used earlier to admire yourself in your dress.

You gasp softly in embarrassment as you realise what he wants, but your eyes can’t tear themselves away from his face, how gorgeous the mask looks settled on his striking features. So captivated, you miss that he’s taken his cock out until he taps it against your asscheek, before pushing it against your soaked folds.

“Do you want me? Beg. Beg me to debase you, to corrupt you.”

“Please…” you say, needing him desperately as he grinds his cock along your cunt, never quite breaching. Holding his gaze in the mirror, you reiterate. “Please corrupt me.”

He grins, before pushing in, and your mouth parts into a slight 'o' shape as you’re filled. The ever so slight burning stretch only adds to the sensation, your hands gripping the sheets as he settles inside you as deep as he physically can get himself.

“Good…” he gets out through gritted teeth.

At your airy moan, he starts his even pace. The slick sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, and you have to look down to avoid the image of your own desperation in the mirror. A hand grabs at your hair and pulls, disrupting your carefully placed hairstyle.

“Look at yourself, watch as the monster everyone fears takes what he wants.”

You moan louder, watching your own expression in the reflection as you’re fucked. Luckily he doesn’t seem to mind when your gaze travels upwards, watching his facial expressions. His jaw set in a tight line, he looks at you with an almost sadistic expression. Like he unashamedly wants to break you.

His hand grabs at your hip, feeling the material beneath his grasp as he bunches it. With each thrust, the dress ripples and moves, and he looks up to see your breasts bouncing with each snap of his hips.

“How depraved you’re become, moanin' like a paid harlot on the Paris streets.” He groans, and you’d admire his dedication to the roleplay if your brains weren’t leaking out of your ears. “Such wanton desperation from a girl as delectable as you.”

You whine at his praise, unable to hold yourself up anymore so you let yourself fall into the pillows. The image causes Jonathan to speed up his thrusts, gripping one of your hands and moving it in a demand for you to self pleasure. Not needing to be told twice, you start to circle your clit, moaning out at the sensation.

“Good girl…need you to cum around me, show me how lustful and immodest I’ve made you.”

You nod, feeling the pleasure build and build. A sharp slap to the ass makes you jump, writhing in place. Sure that you’re makeup is most likely a mess now, you drag your cheek across the sheets to get a better look at the mirror, more specifically at your lover.

The fact he hadn’t taken the costume off makes it even better, his cloak moving with every thrust. You’re a little surprised his mask has stayed on, but you thank whatever sex deity allowed it to remain in place for the image it gives you. This’ll be masturbation fodder for a good while, you’re sure of it.

“Gonna cum…” you manage to get out after a while longer, his cock thrusting into your g spot with cruel precision now. He growls behind you, slapping your ass again just to be cruel.

However the stinging pain tips you over the edge as you cum with a soft cry, clenching around him. You keep rubbing your clit, prolonging the pleasure for as long as possible. Hands falling back to the sheets, you feel Jonathan slightly reposition you, before he starts thrusting harder.

Clearly chasing his own release, he grips both of your hips and rams into you, and his breathing patterns lets you know it won’t be long. So you keep letting out pathetic sounding gasps and whines, arching your back for him. He groans, feeling his balls tighten.

“I’m gonna fill you up, make you keep my cum all throughout the stupid party.” He manages to get out, before he’s spilling inside of you. After a few more shallow thrusts, he stills, basking in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him.

Eventually he pulls out, quickly yanking your panties up snugly so his cum can’t leak out all the way. You whimper at the sensation, cold and uncomfortable, but at the same time so...right.

“There…nice and snug.” He condescends, patting your ass before pulling your dress back down. Helping you up, he turns you around and holds your cheek, looking down at you. “Was I convincing?”

You nod dumbly, still frazzled even as Jonathan looks at his watch. “Good, if we leave now we can still make it in time to see Nygma relive his childhood years after toasting his glass.”

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[potol0ver]

Do you think you could do a oneshot elaborating on Erik’s mommy kink please? Have a good day!

First; sorry this took so long, I just haven’t gotten motivation to write Second; I don’t know if you mean you want a fic/head cannon of Erik having a mommy kink OR why I think he has a mommy kink. So imma do my reasoning and head cannons of his mommy kink, if you want me to do a fic of it don’t be shy and submit another ask <3

Tags; Erik Phantom of the Opera, mommy kink, head cannon list, NSFW

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Reasoning; I believe his mother wasn’t the kindest to him (to put it nicely) I personally have only watched the 2004 movie, I have the book by Gaston Leroux I’m just to busy to read it, but I do know enough that he has mother issues for a fact- in the movie it has like one or two lines about it but let’s all be honest- the mother issues are obvious with him

Head cannons

Erik wouldn’t even know he had a mommy kink, or even the existence of the kink.

He would find out about it when he’s masterbating and it just slips out of his mouth out if no where

He just freezes in realization and refuses to jerk off again- he needed to process this-

And unpopular opinion but I think the name would slip out no matter if you’re AFAB or AMAB

Now… the MOMENT you two get sexually intimate, the second he lets himself go he can feel the word bubble at the back of his throat

So he tries to shut himself up, face in a pillow, hand over mouth, hell if he needs to bite he will to shut himself up

Now one of two things can happen here,

1. You slow down whatever you’re doing, and coax him into tell you what’s wrong, and after a long spewl of reassurance he’ll whisper it out against your neck, if you’re ok with it, he won’t be able to hold back the name in sex again

2. If you’re mean- or don’t have the patience- or just want to see him break- you can just tease him over and over until he finally says it, practically screaming it because he can’t help it anymore.

The name wouldn’t be used outside the bedroom, but believe me no matter the route you took to figure this kink of his out, he’s going to try and hide from you, so please give him reassurance

AGAIN, I believe no matter if you’re AFAB or AMAB, he’s play with your chest, he seems like a chest man to me, groping, kissing, sucking, all of the above-

I also believe he also has an oral kink so if you want him to melt just order him to use his mouth on mommy and he’ll be over the moon in seconds

[elisabethbabarci]

THE ESSENCE OF TIME PART 03

The importance of giving to others. Time can be the defining moment in another’s life. Throughout my developmental years, my family placed high importance on my education, culture, languages, travel, and arts. Within our family network, due to my Mother being a designer, she constructed elaborate costumes, masks, and evening attire for individuals within the theatre and for milestone events such as weddings, galas, and stores. Being a very artistic old soul interested in antiquity, learning, performances, and music, my Mother always ensured that I would be surrounded by the magic and brilliance of art in motion whether it was performances, museums, shows, ballets, or operas.

One evening, there was a severe snow storm that erupted unexpectedly during a performance of the Phantom of the Opera, during the intermission my Mother would allow me to buy one special gift from the gift shop on the firm understanding that I earn the money prior through various chores to learn the importance and value of money. I earned $100.00, and at that period of time, it was a lot of money to purchase a theatrical mask for my bedroom. My Mother wanted me to acknowledge the value of money, and wanted me to not be expectant or spoiled, so through chores over several weeks I recognized the effort and time it took to achieve my goal. Fate had another lesson in store for myself at such a young age of seven. The theatre in downtown Toronto was surrounded by wall to ceiling glass — unfortunately there was a homeless man sitting in the snow storm freezing with bare feet without shoes. For me, it was my first recognition of poverty and suffering. I will never forget holding the mask in my hands, and looking outside at that man in the cold. Deep within my heart it bothered me … the man was elderly, with no support, and the look on his face was pure deflation and defeat.

I placed the mask down, and told my Mother and her friend that I was going to look at other objects near where that man sat however, what they did not know is that I wanted to use the door many used to go outside to smoke to give the man my money. As a child, we have no comprehension of the value of money, however, we do recognize right from wrong, I approached him with other adults staring at him in judgement and I sat down beside him. I will never forget how cold it was, I felt like my stockings were going to stick to the cement. I remember asking him “Are you hungry?,” “Why are you outside?,” “Where are your shoes?” He immediately told me that he had not had a meal in a while and that his shoes were stolen the day before. Without question, I felt he needed the money more than I did, so I gently got up, placed the money in the cup, and gave him a hug. My Mother’s friend had followed me silently outside, observing everything, yanked me by the arm yelling and screaming at me for leaving the theatre and admonished me for giving money to the old man. It created a huge disturbance and scene. He then instructed me to stand still, literally went to the cup and took the money out, and the other money fell to the floor in the process …. I felt sick. I remember screaming “That is my money!” To which he stated “NO, it is your Mothers! What does a child know about $100.00?” … my Mother had realized that I was outside, and immediately stopped her friend from his misguided actions. I remember she softly said to him “She earned this money over two months, it is hers, she earned it through chores to purchase a gift for her room,” and gave it back to me. I then proceeded to place it back in the mans cup. My Mother was speechless, she did not know the reasoning about why the money was taken away by her friend but soon realized the error in his ways.

I walked back towards them and I thought that she was going to ground or punish me, everyone was staring, I felt like I was being punished for doing something right in my mind, but then my Mother simply said “Is that what you want to do with your money?,” “Are you sure?,” I remember crying because I was so upset and said “Yes, he has no shoes, he has no one to take care of him… he is hungry, he is cold, and I wanted to help and he took the money out of the cup,” my Mother said to me “$100.00 is a lot of money, are you sure?,” and I said “I have you, what would you do if I did not have shoes?,” and “You give money to people on the street all the time, how is this different?” my Mother stood for a long period of time, but it was the first time she ever said to me as a young child that “She was proud of me,” she always told me that she loved me, she always told me that she supported and encouraged every decision I made but I felt she recognized that I would always chose what I felt was right. She said “You are growing up!” That evening, she tried to buy me a mask, however, I knew that I could earn more at a later date. It was the first time that as a child I recognized the dismissiveness and cruelty of others. Suffice it to say, we never spoke to that friend again.

Children are innocent, they can recognize happiness, sadness, pain, suffering, however, as adults we tend to overlook others and place judgement. Suffice it to say, I am grateful that my Mother encouraged me to make my own decisions, however, she always stated that every decision might have a consequence. We always talk about that evening, and for the young age of seven, I truly felt that my priorities were in the right place. My Mother decided to buy the man food and shoes instead of returning back to the play. Time is the most precious commodity that we can provide for another, to place importance on another’s human existence over artificial items is true human connection.

We may never know if we may be on the other side of luck, we must never take for granted the privilege that we have been blessed with within life. It does not make us weak to give to another, it enables us to become more compassionate within our nature. Essentially, we need to drop the veneer or illusion that we are above others, all human life is worth helping and saving. Always be altruistic in nature, your actions will define your character.

The gift of love is timeless. As humans we need to value connection. Connection does not have to lead to permanent situations such as marriage or common law, it can be the defining moment of giving your attention, patience, compassion, and company through time. When I first met my vibrant Irishman Michael he was a true benevolent typhon, a maverick of his time, someone who always envisioned forward momentum, he was the pure definition of a rolling stone not collecting moss, with a zest for life. He was a very established attorney, one that many feared to go up against in court, a quick intelligent mind with a compassionate heart that was open for adventure, and touched many hearts through his altruism and kindness. When he and I met, it was a meeting of the minds. He was diabolical, always engaging in shenanigans, and enabled me to adopt a fluid mindset to be in the moment, love with an open heart, and to eradicate fear from my daily experiences. Although Michael has passed I want to share fundamental life lessons and wisdom he taught me.

1. Go for it.

2. Invest in your dreams, ambitions and vision.

3. Fight for what matters to you.

4. Indulge yourself. When you make yourself a priority and place high importance on your mental health and physical wellbeing while giving yourself the permission to spoil yourself from time to time you live life.

5. Travel, tomorrow is not guaranteed, do not live your life through pictures from magazines or others, experience it for yourself.

6. Aquaint yourself with historical books, antiquity, arts, and food, learning from others experiences makes us stronger mentally.

7. Place a ring on it, if you can not imagine your life without it, do not let it slip through your fingers — he mentioned this to me during his proposal.

8. You must always support Notre Dame football. No exception.

Michael was more than my fiancé, he was my best friend and confidant who I was able to truly be myself. He fostered and created a safe nurturing environment that enabled us to both have freedom and growth and our sanctuary was watching old black and white movies such as the Thin Man. He was seeking his adventurous Myrna Loy with an “Unconventional demeanour, elegance, felinity, femininity, that spoke her mind, valued her independence, encouraged her partners strengths, but remained true to herself.” And essentially, our chemistry was based on a strong foundation of friendship where we maintained open communication and our love was based on a secure and firm knowledge of complete acceptance.

We were essentially two old karmic souls, who just like Nick and Nora engaged in countless adventures, shenanigans, and debauchery in the most innocence sense. Michael taught me the value of time, to value the moments and memories that we create with a loved one. Always seek a partner that is never in a rush, that accepts your imperfections purely, that understands the complexities of life, and makes room for you. We must always value indulging in some of life’s pleasures, it is to be open to all senses, to feel, to experience. To fall in love with another’s mind is to integrate their perspectives and to be open to new modes, paths, or methods to experience life. Life is to short to be uncertain to another, when you meet your enigma, your soul expands to new unprecedented heights. Michael was a creature of comfort, although very extroverted he valued his privacy and personal space, I am honoured and grateful for this man, for he opened my heart and mind to acknowledge what true love is and set a standard for unity. We can all benefit from Nick and Nora Charles who exchanged sharp and smart repartee while consistently encouraging the other. To be free, is to be yourself, and to share that path with another is true partnership.

Be strong in every pursuit, and always value the essence of time for it is a precious gift, a commodity that is priceless and should be cherished at every interval of your existence. You, and you alone, set the standards and the definition of a just life. Love yourself without limitations, your life is valuable, and through your experiences you shape others paths. You are the difference that is needed. Never give up on yourself.

[themel-ancholymuse]

*this is a shortened version of her intro post because i...got carried away with her, i won't lie. her full bio is here if you're interested.*

Darnell Muse, the Muse family patriarch, was a wealthy businessman with a wife and child at home when he meets Pamela Carter at a lounge. It doesn’t stop him from pursuing a relationship with a young, beautiful woman; and having an unplanned child with her is still not enough to get him to be honest with her about his real life. Melpomene Muse is born the second child of Darnell Muse, owner of a successful nightclub in Echo Isle and benefactor of various arts centers. She’s naively unaware that her home life is unconventional by most standards; her father is only ever around on the weekends, he never spends holidays with her, and her parents fight a lot. In fact, one of her earliest memories is of a screaming match between her parents, before her father storms out the house and her mother retreats to her bedroom, both slamming the doors so loud little Melpomene can feel the walls shake.

Darnell would only really ever see Mel on the weekends, he’d pick her up on Friday nights and they’d stay in one of his rental properties. Daddy-daughter bonding was a pretty big deal to her, days at the park, trips to the zoo, stopping for ice cream on the way home – they were all some of Mel’s most treasured memories. But nothing was more precious to her than the first musical he’d ever taken her to see. Their trip to see The Wiz was a special gift for her birthday, and little eight year old Mel leaves the theatre wholly and truly obsessed. She dives into the world of musical theatre head first, perfecting swelling solo numbers in her bedroom to show her father the next time he comes to visit. At this point, weekly father daughter days had become rather irregular, so she has a few solid months before she’s allowed her father’s full attention once again. She performs ‘Home’ for him, hair tied up in two braids and in a little blue dress she’d had sitting in the back of her closet waiting just for this moment. Darnell is thrilled to learn she’s got a voice on her, and a natural charisma that makes her a joy to watch. Her only experience with singing prior to this was singing in her church choir when her grandparents would take her to Sunday service. Darnell enrolled her in singing, dancing and acting lessons, sparing no expense and setting her up with the best instructors money could afford them. The new extra curriculars don’t make Melpomene any less lonely, but the theatre gives her a chance to leave her life behind, a few hours to become someone else and get swept up in the only kindness she’s ever received – the adoring applause of people who thought she was a star.

It’s safe to say Mel focuses fully and wholly on her craft as a performer and musician; she joins the school choir, the drama club, and even did a brief stint in the school marching band. She participated in every production her school put on. She takes up learning new instruments, adding the piano, drums, and guitar to her roster. She spends hours combing through record stores, looking for new things to add her to ever growing collection and she’s down to listen to a little bit of everything, building an eclectic music library of her own. Her musical influences are vast and wide, the most notable: Tina Turner, Donna Summer, Nirvana, My Chemical Romance, Green Day, Aaliyah, Prince, Muse, Janet Jackson and Minnie Riperton. Her favorite musicals are: The Wiz, Wicked, Dreamgirls, Spring Awakening, Bare, American Idiot and Phantom of The Opera.

When she turns thirteen, her father gains full custody of her after learning about how horrific her living situation with her mother is. The custody battle is long and exhausting, and having her parents in close proximity under intense circumstances is enough to drive the little girl insane. She’d always just sit with her headphones on, zoning out as she listens to her music loud enough that she should probably be deaf by now – but it’s the only thing that can drown out the fighting, music had always been the only thing that drown out all the pain.

Her senior year of high school, she and her sisters decide to perform in the school talent show together. They perform a medley of Counting Stars, Holy Grail and Smells Like Teen Spirit), and continue to operate as a band for fun, performing covers and even writing a few songs and uploading them to YouTube. 

When Melpomene graduates high school, she gets approached by a record executive off the island for an opportunity to sign with their label in Los Angeles. Initially, she’s hesitant because The Muses are still operating as a unit at this point, even if it’s not serious, and she doesn’t want to leave her sisters behind – but after much deliberation she decides that if Teri and Clio are still finishing high school nothing should stop her from being able to pursue the career she wants. So Melpomene leaves home to go on a new journey that she hopes leads her to pop stardom. 

Long story short, things with the label do not work out for a number of reasons. Full story in her full bio as it's got mention of some potentially triggering things. Inevitably, Melpomene is dropped from her label, and she returns home not sure how exactly she’s supposed to explain this to her friends and family. So, she doesn’t, she instead lies and says that she just didn’t have what it takes to be a big star.

Melpomene is a ride, always looking for something to keep her mind focused on anything other than her past. Hooking up with strangers in the backs of their cars, hanging out the window as sports cars speed down winding roads, if it’s something that sounds fun and a little reckless, chances are she’s agreeing to do it. 

After graduating college, Melpomene focused her time on theatre yet again, performing in a few productions. She played Dorothy in The Wiz, Deena Jones in Dreamgirls and has always got her eye out for a new project to sign onto. She also produces a lot in her spare time, working as an out of house engineer and producer for Couffaine Records. It’s the closest she’s gotten to fully working in the industry again, keeping her close to the creation process, but since it’s basically freelance work she doesn’t feel trapped in a situation in the event she doesn’t want to be doing this anymore. Sometimes she records demos when she’s feeling the itch to create, she rarely shows these demos to anyone because she’s self conscious about her work considering her former label spent all their time telling her she wasn’t talented. 

she doesn’t handle stress, or anything emotional for that matter, well at all and will much rather die before she talks about what’s going on. her parents weren’t the best as talking about their feelings, and she develops their same toxic trait of ignoring her problems and finding something else to distract her. sometimes it’s diving head first into work, sometimes it’s a week filled with parties, too much alcohol and hooking up with people whose name she won’t remember, sometimes it’s stress baking a million cakes. the third one, she feels, is the most productive because at least she can share treats and goodies with her sisters and friends. 

[justjams2003]

Blossoms-Chapter 2

Summary: A young author travels away from her family to The Opera she has heard so much about. She lost and confused and yet still seems to get a job there as a cleaner. Yet when she meets a mysterious man there, everything changes. Her mind is entirely consumed, but will she allow her burning need for him consume her life as well?

Pairing: Erik/Phantom x FemaleOC

Warnings:  Neglectful  parents, daydreaming, (Later on) Smut, (later on) pregnancy. Tell me if I miss any:)

"Who is this little thing," I can't help but ask myself. I was watching the new opera practice. It was going terribly. This new Pirma Donna they've got can't seem to get the understand the substance of the songs. Aurora is supposed to be wandering the woods, lost and entirely filled with fantasy. That is not shown in Carollota's pitch.

She's a confidant singer, entirely too confidant. Stuck up and full of herself at this point. She must be humbled, though Christene is not ready yet. Everything takes time and shaping her must be perfect. Even so, it makes me giddy to see this red-haired fool knocked off her high chair. High chair being the right word, she always acts like such a baby.

With all this, I was so excited when she finally stopped singing. As well as intrigued by the reason. A young woman, bouncing out of her body when she slams open the doors. Causing a shocked silence. Her pale cheeks light up a rosy red at the attention. Even so, I can see the absolute awe and excitement radiating from her.

Madame Giry announces that this young girl will be working here. They walk away and I can't help but sneak after them. Not even bothering to give the cast a quick scare. I must first know this fresh new face's name. The Madame guides her to the background cast's communion bedroom. Would she be playing in the new opera?

I must talk to the Madame. Yet, as she walks away, I cannot help but linger a little longer by the girl. She sighs, plopping down on the bed. Her luscious brown waves bounce by the action. Then, unexpectedly, she grabs a pillow, presses it to her face and lets a squeal. Such a noise I've never heard before.

It wasn't elegant, it wasn't perfect and definitely did not match any of the notes I know. It is just pure joy? How strange, so excited. Madame said she will be a maid, perhaps she will be playing one, yet Giry told nothing of her part otherwise. To be here makes her scream with joy? That is something new. Something exciting, it just seems to draw me in more.

Something, even more, new, she stands up and starts jumping. Wiggling her body as her innocent bliss cannot be contained? Nothing about this makes sense. Yet when the white ribbon in her waist-length black hair flows with her I can't help but want to do the same. To leap around, so sporadically, with her.

Not that I would, I don't have much to leap for joy about. Christene's voice is taking much longer than I would have hoped for. My plans must slow down for now. Perhaps I could start a new project, with this little one. Someone with her beauty and innocence must be protected. There must be some musical talent in someone so magnetic.

"You mustn't lurk like that." Madame Giry calls out, I can't get much past her. Though, that means I do not have to announce myself. "What is the role of the new arrival?" My voice echos out of the shadows. The ballet teacher does not stop by the sudden sound. "No role. Simply a maid. Why? She does not seem like your type?"

Now I am glad to be in the shadows. "What makes you say that?" I question, squeezing and turning to be sure I stay unnoticed by any other. She shrugs, "I must warn you to be careful. Her mother and father are very wealthy and have quite the following." Only then is where she turns to face me. I can tell she does not know where I am. Only that I am here.

I scoff at her statement, "Money is not what makes a man." I tell her, already concocting plans for this new beaut. "No, but it can be what destroys one." She knows her words are wise and without comeback. "Also, Christene will not be coming to her lessons today. She is showing the new girl around." Before I can even argue, she throws a quick smirk at me and continues her way to the stage.

I suppose I must be patient, neither of them are going anywhere.

The moment I saw Christene I was taken back. She is so beautiful. The way she carries herself is so elegant. Every step she takes seems to call for an applaud. Her physique is so perfect too. An easy hourglass figure and strong lightly toned everything. Her hair perfectly curls in the right place. Those brown curls capture the beauty of her smile and eyes so handsomely too.

"Are you Mariposa?" The strawberry blond girl next to her asks me. I am snapped out of my trance. I smile at her, in fear my voice would fail in front of my new companions, I merely nod. She returns the smile, "I like your name. I am Meg Giry and this is my friend Christene Daae." The sweet girl introduces herself.

Christene hooks my arm into hers and all three of us start walking around. "It's a pleasure to meet Mariposa. What made you come to France?" She asks me, it takes everything in me not to turn red. Her voice is as pretty as the rest of her. I clear my throat. "The streets of London were unbelievably boring. My Aunt travels a lot and would always tell me of the famous opera Populaire." I explain in detail, feeling a bit short compared to the ballerina.

We talked and talked while they both showed me around. That was of course until Madame Giry called Meg for a task. Leaving the two of us alone. At that same moment, I feel that watched feeling again. This time I can't help but turn around. Hoping to catch whoever it might be. My turn spooked Christene terribly.

"You feel it too?" Is a question I did not expect. I've always been a little odd compared to my London friends. It is strange, I thought I was just nervous. I nod at her, watching the balconies and every dark spot. "I believe it to be my Angel of Music." She explains, gently taking my arm and pulling me with her again.

I furrow my brows, "What might that be?" My family wasn't extremely religious. Still, I had friends who did the whole praying thing. They never once spoke about any music angle. "When my father died, he told me he would send an angel to look after me. Perhaps he sees your talent too?" She explains to me, feeling entirely contempt with someone watching her.

I can only laugh at the thought, "I've tried every instrument there is, including the voice. None of them fit." I so wished that I could sing. It is an ache that pulls at my heartstrings all the time. I do make up for it in other departments. My stories, for example, I take great pride in them. I rarely let people read them unless I know they're absolutely perfect.

The beautiful girl smiles at me, "That might be what you think. But the angel of music knows all." Her words are ominous, yet she seems so contemptuous with them. "It is getting late, let us go back." Christene ever so gracefully walks to our bedroom. Everything she does is like that. I can't wait to get to know her.

The opera house is quiet. I tried working on my new opera, perhaps some new music. Yet, my mind won't rest, won't focus on my work. The notes I played sound wrong and shakey.  The ideas just won't come out the way I want them to. And for once in years it wasn't Christene who I needed to see.

I hastily threw on my coat and mask. I chose the fastest route, even if it is the most dangerous. I expected to see her peacefully sleeping in her bed. No, her bed is empty and no one else seems to be missing. Has someone taken her? I wouldn't be surprised, she's a beautiful girl who seems to stream out light.

She can't be gone, she can't be. But, why? There is nothing special about her, right? Madame Giry would have told me if she could sing. Why am I so drawn to her?

My mind has gone off once more. I wasn't focussing on my feet or here I'm going. I stepped on the creaky floorboard. Immediately after, the smallest of gasps is heard. Someone is awake and I can't help but run after and see who it might be. "Christene has gotten in your head." I hear the whisper.

There I see the new girl right in the middle of the stage. Hunched over a notebook and furiously writing away. Such passion, only stopping every now and then to think. Once a bulb seems to go off in her head, she goes back to writing. I can't help but want to ask, read or know what she is writing.

I lean on the railing, watching so closely as if it is the best play I have ever seen. It is taking everything in my being not to go up and ask. "What are you writing?" The words play on my tongue, begging to be released. My body as well wants to jump down. Just to be close to this brilliant mind.

I must watch her more. I need to find out who she is, what she is writing and why I want to know.

[nbspacegay]

With my apartment came free an evil orange cat. He is Huge and fluffy and extremely poorly socialized

Two years ago when i was on concussion 3 or 4 I heard a cat meowing outside my window. This was concerning because I live in an apartment building on a floor that is not at all in proximity to the ground. Briefly, forgetting all five years of my psycbology degree, I wondered if my concussion was causing me to hallucinate.

It was not.

There was this big ol cat on the balcony. I let him inside because what else was I going to do. Then I had another problem in that he would start screaming like a human man any time he was approached. I have had cats for Years I have never heard a sound like that come out of anything but a human. Anyways my wonderful roommate went and knocked on the neighbours door and it turned out he'd just slid under the divider between our balconies.

Y'all I was so determined to tame this cat like a girl in a horse movie who needs a mustange to win the big race so she can save peepaws farm. This did not come to pass.

Then followed years of looney toons bullshit antics on the part of the cat as the neighbours tried desperately to keep him on their side of the balcony and he, trickster god and devil that he is, kept escaping to our side. I distinctly remember one morning, not having forfeited the balcony to the cat yet, I was out in my knee high rubber boots (protection from the cat) boxers and if i recall correctly either shirtless or in a fully see through tank top. 100 percent nipples out except I don't have any. And my neighbour craning his neck around the divider to talk to me about the cat. I have literally no memory of what that conversation entailed except me, floundering, saying the cat was very sweet and then me and my neighbour both visibly grimacing because this cat is as bloodthirsty as they come and I had just told an obvious bald faced lie.

Anyways fast forward a few months and the cat learns how to open our balcony door. We jam it shut and he tears a hole in the screen. Sometimes you turn around and someone elses cat is coming out of your closet with pure murderous intent, hissing and spitting. He is so determined to get into our apartment that both my roommate and I have caught him clawing at the fully closed and locked glass sliding door.

fast forward to last fall and the cat has taken to yowling outside my bedroom window in the afternoons and at 1 am nearly every morning. Once, my roommate, referencing phantom of the opera, says "sing to me my angel of music" in the musical this is followed by the lead doing some really impressive vocal gymnastics which are best transcribed as "OoOooOooooOOOO" at a steadily increasing volume. This is the funniest thing i have ever fucking heard. I have transcribed a conversation the cat and i had a a result.

Cat: OoOooOooooOOOO

Me: Sing for me my angel of music

Cat: OoOooOooooOOOO

Me; Sing! my angel!!

Cat: O0oOo0O

Me: SING!!!!!

Cat O0O0O0O0000

It was a conversation he and I would go on to have many more times before winter when he, as usual, disappeared from my life for several months.

Over the winter, I unlearned my hardwon tolerance for my angel of music. When he returned, it was with a vengeance. No longer content to scream at me twice a day, he commenced with a new plot to psychologically torture me by screaming outside my window at night. At first only once or twice then it became hourly. I didn't say anything to him because I wanted some leave and quiet for once in my life please I'm begging. One very hot night, I wake up and close my window, convinced the cat is about to hurtle through it and kill me in my sleep. I laugh it off as a nightmare. The next night I wake up from an odd sort of thwap. I look out my window and this cat has leapt four feet straight into the air to sink his claws into my screen. He screams at me when I slide my window shut. This happens several times a night for about a week or so. I start trying (and failing) to take a picture of this behaviour for my roommate. Last night, I started talking to him softly because and I won't lie, I was trying to convince him to jump up, but instead he just meowed softly a few times and left. I had forgotten this cat had any other settings beside screaming and hissing.

I thought about that one tumblr post about how small talk is like a little social call and response to say 'are you there?' 'yes Im here with you' I thought about how I hadn't been telling my angel of music to sing recently. I thought about how maybe the cat was yelling into the night, once an hour 'hey, are you there?' only to be met with silence and maybe all I needed to do this whole time was simply to say 'yes, I'm here with you'

It is the middle of the night and i have just had a realization.

[90stvshowgoth]

—THE BET

summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.

w/c: 4587

tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming

a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.

big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.

The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.

Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.

You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.

“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.

She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”

Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.

“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.

Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.

The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.

“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.

“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.

‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.

When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.

‘Three of a kind already... what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.

After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.

All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

Joker. That meant you had four queens.

It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.

All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.

An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.

Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.

“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.

A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.

“That’s bullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.

“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping all your winnings into his arms.

Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”

“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.

Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.

“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”

A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”

Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.

He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.

Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.

“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.

Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”

Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.

“Shall we begin, then?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”

He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”

You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”

That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.

“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.

Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.

“And...” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”

The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.

The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.

“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.

You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.

‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.

“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.

He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”

You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”

The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”

Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.

“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.

“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.

He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”

If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering...

“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”

He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”

Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.

There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?

‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.

“If I lose...”

“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.

Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?

No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.

You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.

“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”

Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.

“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.

“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.

With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”

“Wait... Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.

Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.

Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.

“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.

“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.

You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”

He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.

“You... are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.

Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.

“I knew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”

You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.

“It will make it so much more satisfying...” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “...when I break you.”

Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.

Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.

“Wh.. Why?”

“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.

Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”

Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.

You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,

“Hi-so—kah...” It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.

He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.

All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.

“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.

He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.

“His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”

“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?

Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician’s self-control.

Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.

“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”

“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”

Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.

With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.

That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.

“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.

“M..o-re, more...” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.

It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.

The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.

“Ye-es cum inn-side me,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.

“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck, i’m cumming—“

His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.

“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.

“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”

The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.

“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.

As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”

“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”

He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”

[maybe-your-left]

ASK FRIDAY - CREATE A SCENARIO: roommates trope with Kylo

Due to some last minute room swapping and late registering Reader and Kylo end up in the same dorm but they're mad about it and hate each other (cue intense sexual tension)

Dorm room, Snowed in, evening time like 6

The heater/power has just gone out and Kylo knows a few ways to get warm...only if Readers up for it...

been working on this for FOREVER ANON. 

I loved it! 

Crushed

TW: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub vibes, exhibitionism, kinda fluff, Kylos not that nice and is an entitled man.

Oh yeah, you fuckin’ slut. 

Yes-Yes-Yes! 

‘M gonna cum all over your fucking tits.

You slapped the wall next to your bed, hard. 

“Can you guys keep it down! It’s 1 in the morning!” 

Muffled voices came through the paper-thin wall, sounding like bodies moving to the floor. Good, you thought, at least he will get rug burn from the shitty carpet, might keep him from fucking everything that moves. 

A hard knock on the wall pulled you from that thought. 

“Go read your fucking Bible! I’m trying to get my dick wet!” 

“Please!” 

“Why don’t you go get fucked!?” 

Some giggled came through next, followed by more muffled whispering. You whined loudly, trying to ignore the sounds of him fucking whatever bimbo your dormmate had in his lair. Shoving your face into your pillow, muffling your tears and wails. 

You turned on your TV, drowning out the final act of his performance. Fingers poised over your keyboard to file another noise complaint with the RA… not like they ever helped you. The last time they intervened they left with a black eye and broken nose, shrugging for you to sort it out yourselves. 

A door slammed shut, you let out a sigh of relief. 

At least he wasn’t a cuddler. 

You climbed out of bed, tip-toeing to your door to take a peek of whatever slut found her way into his room this evening. The special lady was a new cinderella every fucking week, he didn’t even try to know their names. You heard him admit it once in class to his friends, saying he called them all ‘baby’ so he wouldn’t have to learn. 

You peeked out the door, blinking from the harsh fluorescent lighting of your dingy dorm halls. The walls were a screaming white, yellowing from years of shoddy cleaning. You tried to clean your room when you first came to school, but it was too disgusting. 

A non-smoking dorm, ha. Everyone smoked, especially your neighbor. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed creeper?” 

You jumped at his voice, exhaling harshly through your nose. You steeled your features, caught red-handed looking for his latest prey. Crossing your arms defensively, not that there was anything to hide. You were in your ratty pj’s, they were on sale at Old Navy a few years ago and you never threw them away even though they barely fit anymore. 

“If you’re so interested in being a cuck,” he grinned at you, flashing his crooked teeth, “I would love to have you over for an encore, I’m sure you’d love to watch me in action.” 

“Buzz off, Ren.” 

“Ooo, angry tonight,” he smirked, now stepping out of his door frame. You choked a little at his appearance, no shirt on, basketball shorts barely hanging off his hips. Dangerously low, seriously, if he took one wrong move they would be on the floor. His chest was covered in fresh scratch marks, no doubt from his latest victim, a sheen of sweat glistening under the lights. 

Fuck, he was good-looking. 

But he was terrible. 

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, daring you to stare back at him. 

You gulped, caught again. You were better than that, you were just tired from being kept up since ten with his version of ‘love-making’. 

“My eyes are up here cupcake,” he stepped forward. Pushing you back into your doorframe, almost inside your sanctuary. “If you ever decide you want to break your vow of chastity, I’m right next door.” 

“Step away from me, Kylo.” 

He cocked his brow, “I love when you’re mean, come on. Let’s see if kitty has claws.” 

You bared your teeth, fists balling under your underarms, “Not even if you were the last man on Earth.” 

He shrugged, backing away from you. 

“Deal, bitch.” 

You moved to shut your door on him, “Go away.” 

“See you in class, bright and early.” 

------ 

When you imagined leaving for college, it was different. 

Saying goodbye to your parents, packing your car with whatever small valuables you owned. Determined to make a name for yourself all the way across the country, no friends or family, truly on your own. You imagined everything would be different, the dorm would be filled with new and friendly faces. 

RA’s greeting you as you parked outside, giving you a tour and maybe a group lunch with all your floormates. Getting to know each other, maybe even going to some new-student orientation event they planned for the newbies. 

Classes were smooth, acing all your major requirements. Professors were kind and ready to help you at any moment, letting your artistic vision flow through your body every morning with your 8 AM yoga class. 

But no. 

Instead, you registered late. 

Your classes all at the worst times, bright and early. 

Second rate dorm, COED even… smelly dudes between your single bedroom which would be better defined as a broom closet. Burping and fucking on both sides of you while you tried to study. Your major requirement classes were boring and filled with pretentious art students who thought they were the next Picasso. 

Professors didn’t care if you lived or died, only focusing on the bell schedule because they couldn’t control what the freshmen did in their classes. 

Your options for clubs were limited, either join a sport or a cult. 

And worst of all. 

Kylo Ren. 

He was your neighbor, signed up late just like you. You actually arrived at the same time, he pushed you down on your ass in the lobby so he could be checked in first. Calling you a clumsy bitch, only for you both to be handed keys to the same floor. Right next to each other, sharing a flimsy wall. 

On top of that, he was an art major like you. 

And since he registered late, he was in almost every class. 

Even yoga! 

He took your mat the first day, leaving you in tears in the hallway. He apologized afterward, handing it back to you before storming off to be with his beefy upper-class friends. Any moment he could, Ren would humiliate you. Trying to push your buttons, whistling at you when you had to cross the hallway to the showers. Tripping you when you had your hands full, making fun of you for hanging out with your sparse group of friends. 

And when he found out you were annoyed with him making noise, he latched onto it. 

One week he decided to recite the entire Phantom of the Opera, just because you mentioned in class that you loved that play. 

He did every part, even the musical scores, you could’ve sworn he did it with a megaphone on the wall, just to spite you. 

Your parents told you ‘he just likes you, he’s a boy.’ 

No! 

That’s not how people express feelings, at least not healthy people. 

Your alarm clock blared on your nightstand, you didn’t sleep so it didn’t bother you. Letting out a heavy sigh of defeat, Ren ruined another night for you, a night you’d never get back. Of precious, precious sleep that you desperately deserved. 

Slipping on some plum leggings and a sports bra. No one gave a fuck about your outfit in your early morning class, as long as you went with clothes on. You popped on your headphones, trying to drone out the noise of Ren’s music through the wall. He liked to blast some god-awful music every morning. 

Today, it was an old Black Veil Brides album! 

You made it out of the dining hall, snatching a muffin for breakfast. Smiling at some guys you knew, waving at your friend Rose as you stormed off to the gym. The cold chill of Winter biting at your nose, it was too cold to not wear a full outfit. But there was no time, with Ren keeping you up all night and classes back to back, you didn’t have time to fuck around with dressing up. 

Ren ran in after you, laughing with his friends. Big nose all red from the frost, his hair looked frozen to his scalp, probably showered beforehand. You rolled out your mat, trying to stretch while he bragged about the pussy he got last night. Making a big show of your complaining, saying you were desperate to fuck him based on your whining. 

You rolled your eyes when he planted next to you, “Good morning, you ran out in a hurry.” 

“I didn’t want to be late,” you sneered, not giving him the time of day, still stretching your back into child's-pose. 

“How are we supposed to walk together if you run away from me, cupcake?” 

You scoffed, shooting him an icy glare. Despite him grinning at you like the happiest man on Earth, god, you needed to stop giving him a reaction. That would shut him up if you didn’t give him the attention he is clearly lacking from his parental figures. 

“Good morning class,” your teacher greeted you calmly, “I hope you’re all doing well. As you all know, this next week is finals week, I’m offering makeup classes to those of you who need to make up some credit hours. We are also hosting some meditation if you need time to relax between classes.” 

Next to you, Ren leaned towards your mat, setting his hand right behind your back. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was hovering. Ready to devour you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he chuckled. 

You stayed quiet, pushing back into his arm so he would move. Ren stayed put, purring in your ear, “Did you sleep well?” 

“Move off my mat, Ren.” 

He smirked down at you, “You seem stressed, do you want me to help by fucking your brains out.” 

You shot off your mat, effectively knocking him onto his back. Laughing loudly in a relatively silent room of students trying to center themselves. He grinned from the floor, hands up in the air in defense, “I’m just offering to help you, Jesus!” 

“Just,” you pointed in his face, hair falling out of your ponytail. Everyone was staring at you, even your instructor. Shocked you were yelling, you barely spoke in class, at the scariest person in your class. 

“Just, leave me alone.” 

------

Ren avoided you for the rest of the week, mostly. 

Still had his nightly fuck-more subdued though, you had on noise-canceling headphones to try and focus on studying. There were still so many classes to get to, and you wouldn’t be finished until the day before Winter break… you were desperate to get this over with. 

You missed your family, the plane ticket itself cost you a whole month of meals. 

Of course, you would do fine in your classes, it was just the motivation to get there. Every morning you glared at Ren when he greeted you in yoga, still standing next to you like a menacing shadow. 

This morning was no different, only you skipped class to study in the library. Bundled up in your winter coat, long black scarf, hair in a lazy braid, and thermal leggings on. The wind had picked up last night, bringing on an ice storm that wasn’t expected until late next week. You walked on treacherous sidewalks, dodging all the other students who were seeking the warmth of the library. 

You settled inside, sprawling your books and laptop on an old desk. Grabbing out a few sketch pads so you could finish up some pieces that were due in a couple hours. Most of your finals in art were ‘unconventional’ which meant the professor wanted to see what you were motivated to work on during the year. 

For yours, you had decided to draw the people you saw on campus. 

Studying their faces, mannerisms, languages while they were in an organic environment. It was a great piece, and one of your professors was very interested in showcasing it in a show. You were proud, it wasn’t large but it was important for you and you wanted it to be perfect before turning it in. 

Your pastels were spread out, fingertips smudged and stained from charcoal, a few lines on your face and brow from forgetting about the streaks. There was this one person you couldn’t finish, it was one of your friends from last week. She was laughing and holding a drink, the expression wide and full of emotion but it was hard for you to capture without her being there. 

But you steeled yourself, you weren’t leaving this spot until you finished her. 

“You smudged that dude's face,” a low voice rumbled behind you. A finger pointing down at the top left corner, “Stop-don’t touch it.” 

You moved to swat the hand away, not wanting some random guy to ruin your piece with their grubby fingers. Recentering yourself, he wasn’t smudged, he was just in the corner so it looked like it wasn’t finished… what did he know, anyway? 

“You didn’t draw me?” 

Now you stopped, why you didn’t recognize the timbre of his voice was ridiculous. 

You let out a long sigh, “Please, don’t touch the canvas, Kylo. It’s not ready, yet.” 

The chair that housed your backpack slid out next to you, your things tossed on the ground carelessly before Ren sat. You scooted away from him, he smelled like he just showered. Judging by his wet hair you were probably right… “What are you doing?” 

He shrugged, fiddling with one of your notebooks. Flipping through pages carelessly, “I don’t know-you weren’t in yoga so.” 

“So,” you gave him a weird look, “You stalked me to the library?” 

“There’s no reason to go to yoga if I can’t bother you,” he flashed a smile, dropping it slightly when he saw you weren’t playing back with him. 

Silence fell over you both, the only noises the heat kicking in around the scuffling of boots and shoes to face the weather again. 

“I like your piece,” he gestured to your work, “For drawing, right?” 

You nodded stiffly, not enjoying his friendly tone. Like he wasn’t your demon neighbor who made it his job to annoy you and had for the past four months of your life. Ren shifted again, now leaning on the table with his cheek resting on his forearm. Looking at you with wide eyes, you never took the time to look at his face. 

He had very large eyes that betrayed his emotions. Swimming with flecks of auburn, gold, and some streaks of green, blinking slowly as he studied your canvas. You looked away from him, trying to ignore the urge to draw them, how his long lashes rivaled your own. How his skin was freckled with beauty marks, creases from frowning lined his forehead and nose. You could even make out his stubble, some pieces he must’ve missed the last time he shaved. 

You went back to drawing, no longer focusing on it. Just trying to understand what was happening, your tormentor was a foot away from you. Breathing calmly like a cat laying in a patch of sun. Hunched over the edge, torso too long to rest like a normally proportioned human being, had he always been this big? 

“Wanna get coffee before class?” 

“Huh?” 

You blinked slowly, not registering that he spoke to you. 

Ren leaned off, letting out a big yawn and scratching the back of his neck. 

Yes, definitely a cat. 

“Do you want to get coffee,” he stared blankly, “Before we head to English?” 

You looked down at your mess, then back up at him. Shaking your head softly, voice quiet as a mouse, “No-thank you.” 

He exhaled harshly, “I’m not gonna burn you with it, it’s just coffee.” 

“No, I’m fine,” you said firmer, “I wanna work on this some more.” 

Ren stayed still, probably trying to think of a way to get you to agree with him. You had known him long enough to know he doesn’t like people disagreeing with him. Didn’t have to be a college graduate to see that the man had issues with control, hence terrorizing you all semester. You didn’t want to offer him an olive branch, because he was just doing it as a joke. Probably, waiting until you were calm around him to do something cruel. 

You went back to drawing, listening to him get up and leave you. Mumbling something under his breath about ‘trying to be nice’ before walking out. You shook off the awkwardness, not willing to break down and let him do something nice for you, just because he didn’t ruin your final piece didn’t mean he wouldn’t do something in the future. 

The day was still young. 

------

Oddly enough, Ren didn’t bother you that evening. 

Not even a door slam! 

You almost thought he was dead, but you saw him in the hallway when you were walking to the bathroom. Wrapped in your robe, caddy in hand, he didn’t whistle or try to touch your ass like he normally did. Just a stale smile before closing himself back in his room. 

Not to waste the precious quiet, you went to work packing your bags for your trip tomorrow. Deciding to do a quick load of laundry, your hall was almost empty, so no one would be down there while you waited. 

Piling up your hamper, you threw your pj's and slippers on. Remembering to grab a blanket and your laptop so you could hang out down there while you waited. 

Your friends back home were all excited to see you, ready to hear all about your time away. The boys you met, friends you made, classes, all that. So excited to get home and see your cat, Gremlin, he was all alone without you. Your mom sent you pictures earlier of him curled in your blankets, saying that he knew you were coming home soon. 

Maybe next Fall you could get an apartment, you didn’t want to leave him for another year. 

A washing machine door slammed shut next to you, causing you to jump from your perch atop your own. Faced with Ren, who was doing his laundry in his pjs, or his version of pjs. Giving you another tight-lipped smile before leaning against the far wall. Yawning loudly before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

You ignored him, turning back to your laptop that was playing a crime documentary. Texting some friends to keep your mind from wandering to Ren and why he was in such a mood. 

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Ren called from his wall. 

You pretended to not hear him, refocusing on the documentary, there was something very interesting happening and you weren’t about to miss how they found the killer's shoe prints in the mud just because Ren was trying to talk to you. 

Then something was thrown at you, and it smelled awful. 

“Oh-my-god!” 

You shot off the washing machine, throwing down the offending garment. Ren was laughing loudly, “Chill out! It was just an old shirt!” 

“How old was it?!” 

He smiled at you from the ground, propping an elbow on his kneecap. One leg stretched out on the tile, you tried to regain a sense of calm, he was just messing with you again. Just take some deep breaths… in-out-in

“Are you leaving tomorrow, after our final?” 

You let out your deep breath, sitting back on the washer. “Yeah,” you paused your show since mister meanie wanted to have a tea party. “I have to get to the airport right after.” 

He hummed, “Same.” 

The washer beeped loudly, echoing in the otherwise empty room. Ren watched you hop off, fixing your shorts which definitely rode up too much. Trying to not flash him your underwear as you bent to move your clothes to a dryer. You cursed when a sock fell from your pile, great.  

“How come we’ve never fucked?” 

Now all your clothes were on the floor. 

Along with Ren, who was staring at you like you were an art exhibit. 

You dragged your clothes back to the washer. There was no way you were finishing now that they touched the dirty floor, no one cleaned down here and just because it looked clean didn’t mean-

A whistle, “You good over there?” 

“Yup.” 

“Okay,” you heard him stretch, popping his joints as he lifted off the floor. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he closed in. Almost touching you, no escape, “As I was saying, how come you’ve never let me steal your virginity?” 

You scoffed, “I am not a virgin.” 

Ren pressed into you, pushing you against the washer now. Grinding his hips into your own, you squirmed, trying to dispel every fantasy flooding your brain. Every night you spent listening to him through the wall, imagining just once that it was you. If he weren’t such a monster, you would have gladly laid on your back and let him do whatever he wanted. 

“Nothing?” 

You took a deep breath, placing both palms on the top of the washer. Biting your lip as you silently pleaded for him to let you go, but also continue. You could smell his cologne from this close, how it complimented him so well. Mixing in with his dark aura, you wanted nothing more than to spin around and…

Soon you were doing just that, but not on your own violation. 

Ren had his hands grasping your hips, thumbs slipping under the fabric of your t-shirt to caress your soft skin. Lips capturing your own, you froze in his hold. Unsure of what to do, a part of you wanted to scream and smack him, but the other part loved the smell of his toothpaste. 

He relaxed when you relaxed, your lips still awkwardly locked together. Not opening and allowing for more, but not moving away either. You stared at him, startled to see him looking back at you. Pulling back slightly, you watched his face chase yours. Bringing your lips together a few more times, kissing at the seam. 

You felt his tongue flick for entry, trying to pry your mouth open so he could explore. When you didn’t move he finally huffed in annoyance, “I know it’s your first kiss, but you’re supposed to open your mouth.” 

You groaned, bringing both hands to cradle his cheeks. There was no way he was going to make fun of you, he initiated this so. 

Ren made a muffled noise when you pressed your lips back together. Probably of shock and surprise, because, no. This was not your first kiss, not even your fourth or fifth kiss. Working your tongue skillfully into his mouth, you moaned softly at his taste. Just like you imagined… not that you put much stock into this but… it was wonderful. 

Bringing your fingers to the nape of his neck, tugging on his dark brown hair. Just like you always wanted to, whenever he walked past you with it tied in a bun you dreamt of tearing through it. Ren returned your affection in kind, his left hand moving to the small of your back. Fingers dancing under the waistband of your pajama bottoms. 

You heard him swear when he felt the lace underneath, nestled between your cheeks. Ren slid a hand over the globes of your ass, moving his hips in time with his tongue. Tasting every inch of your mouth, even growling in approval when you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Petting and groping each other against the washing machines, the sound of you swapping spit barely heard over the rumble of your clothes. Ren had gotten sick of grinding against your hip bone, pulling away from you for a moment. Shushing your pathetic whimpers, he hooked the hand not cupping your ass behind your left knee. 

Hiking it over his hip, opening your legs up. Allowing him to assault your center with his straining erection, oh you could picture it now. How easy it would be to just let him slip inside you. 

Right here, in the laundry room. 

*Beep* 

You pulled back roughly, barely able to unsuction your lips from Rens' own. A string of spit connecting your kiss-bitten lips, he looked at you with pleading eyes. Grinding himself against you harder, pulling a few soft mewls from your throat. 

“I need to switch my clothes,” you croaked.

He nodded, shakily setting your limb back on the floor and backing away. You watched through your own lust-filled state as he trembled. Walking back to his far wall, a hand cupping his cock through his sweats. Your throat clicked as you took in a much-needed breath, doing what you said you would. 

Setting them in the dryer, all the more aware of his eyes watching your every move. 

Not sparing him a glance when you sat back on the washer. 

Turning on your laptop once again to watch your crime documentary. 

Ignoring the throbbing between your legs, his deep breaths, and your shaking limbs. 

------

The TV’s at the airport all said the same thing, “Record snowfall this winter, right before the holidays! Experts say that we will be lucky to keep power until it passes. Our friends on the west coast are enjoying a white Christmas, while we’re stuck in the North Pole.” 

All flights have been grounded until further notice. 

Stuck. 

You could barely make it back to your dorm without crashing. 

Bursting into tears several times when you realized you wouldn’t be home until it was over. Wouldn't be able to safely leave your dorm room until it passed, leaving you utterly alone. 

You had emailed your RA letting him know your bad luck, he let the staff know you’d be there so they would have food and water running still. 

But other than that, this was your holiday. 

You slipped on the walk up to your room, sobbing loudly in the halls as you clutched your luggage. No going home, no seeing your friends or family, no Christmas dinner, no personal shower, no Gremlin to sleep on your face. 

Collapsing on your bed, curling yourself in the multitude of pillows and blankets that adorned it. The room had shitty heating, the entire building had shitty heating. The entire month of December you’d been freezing, and no amount of personal heaters could fix this kind of cold. 

You drifted off to sleep after crying for a few hours, letting your parents know what was happening. Setting alerts for earlier flights, anything you could do to get home. You were so tired in fact, that you slept through a power outage. Leaving the entire building to shut down, no backup generators. 

And no heat. 

It wasn’t until you felt yourself being lifted that you woke up to the commotion. 

Squirming in the kidnappers' arms, limbs aching from freezing for a time in your bedroom. The window must’ve cracked open because it was much colder than when you arrived. Your attacker didn’t let you go, growling in your ear to be still. 

Dragging you out of the building, towards a car you didn’t notice when you pulled in. With the snow swirling all around, it was a miracle they could see their own vehicle. You were thrown in the front seat, followed by your luggage tossed in the back. You stayed still, every time you moved it hurt, hypothermia. Common in the New England storms if you were foolish enough to be outside… 

You about passed out when the driver's side door opened, Ren climbed in. Looking just as frozen as you, slamming the door shut and mumbling something as he started his car. You could’ve cried when the engine turned, heat blasting between the both of you. 

“Hands,” his teeth chattered, holding his own out. He nodded for you to do the same, grasping your pink fingers between his own and blowing on them. “Power went out,” Ren took a shallow breath, “I was leaving and I saw your car. You were almost frozen to your bed, the window broke.” 

“Th-thank you-u-u.” 

Ren cringed at your fingers, slowly gaining back their normal color. “I tried to grab everything I could, like your backpack and luggage. But we can’t stay there, we’ll fucking freeze.” 

You nodded, tugging your hands away to curl into your chest. Thankful that Ren had enough sense to grab blankets, stuffing them in your lap from the backseat. You thought about grabbing your phone, but you could barely make a fist so it would do you no good. 

“My plane g-g-got ground-d-ed.” 

Ren shivered, nodding sharply, “Mine too, my mom got me a hotel room not far from here to stay until the storm passes. So, I’m taking us there.” 

“Okay.” 

You didn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract him from the treacherous roads. Thank god he had a Jeep, or else you would’ve died. You couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, less than that when you were on the highway out of the city. 

Ren kept mumbling things like it’s okay, I’m sorry, I know it's cold, whenever you shivered and took in sharp breaths. You must’ve been out for a while, to get this bad. A quick look at the clock in his car said you’d been asleep for three hours, who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t noticed your car… 

He helped you out, more carried you, towards the check-in desk. Too worried you would pass out in the car if he left you for too long, the front desk lady was quick and sweet. Making sure to send up extra blankets and pillows to your suite. Ren had you walk up with him, so he wouldn’t have to carry you and the luggage on separate trips. 

You clutched his hand like a child, tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. But he was so warm, it’s all you could think about. All you wanted was to be warm, nodding blindly to whatever Ren said to do. 

Plug your phone in, check. 

Let him talk to your mom, check. 

Draw a bath for you, check. 

Climb in the bath with you, double-check. 

It wasn’t until you were defrosted in the clawfoot tub that you realized you were naked with him. 

Rens chest against your back, holding you like his life depended on it. Judging by his shaking, you both were probably suffering from acute hypothermia. You had been silent for so long your voice spooked him a little, “Thank you.” 

He hummed into your hair, which was sitting on top of your head in a messy bun. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded slowly, “Can we go lay down?” 

“Yeah,” Ren hastily got out of the tub, draining it and wrapping you in plush towels. You were still too cold to blush from your nakedness, not how you pictured this going. You imagined you would finally give into him on some drunken party night, barely remembering his reaction to seeing you nude. 

But now he had seen you half-frozen, forced to cradle you back to life. 

------

You squinted from your cocoon, greeted by a dimly lit room. 

One spare lamp on a dingy-looking nightstand, well it wasn’t terrible. It was better than your nightstand in your dorm room… where was your dorm room anyway? 

Something vibrated behind you, followed by a heavyweight sprawling against your back. 

You held your breath, you were in a hotel. 

With a stranger. 

“Shit,” you whispered. 

Okay, you could wiggle out of here. You took a moment to study the room, there was the lamp from before, and some curtains on a metal rod in the far corner. If you managed to get out without being detected you could knock out the assailant. 

“You smell so good.” 

More weight settled on you, now you were trapped. This bear was closing in, who knows what happened while you were asleep! All you could remember was falling asleep at your dorm after the upsetting trip to the airport, then being dragged away. 

Your fingers burning when you tried to use them, being shoved in a car… 

Kylo. 

“Kylo?!” 

“Mhm.” 

You threw your arms up, successfully throwing him off you and the covers. Your limbs screaming at the sudden movement, you were still suffering from the cold. Next to you, curled in a ball, totally catlike, was Ren. 

A sleepy smile gracing his lips, hands curled under his cheek, and legs moving towards his chest, Like a child under a blanket. You gasped when you saw he was naked, “Fuck!” 

You were too. 

“What the fuck, Ren!?” 

“Stop yelling,” you watched his hand bat his nose like an animal, “Come back, you were warm.” 

You huffed, flailing off the bed in search of your bags. 

Memories flooding back to you, he took you here after saving your life. 

The bath. 

Ugh, bad time to remember your kiss the night before. 

Ren sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly. You flushed red when you looked between his legs, shit. How does he walk around with that? Is that why he has bad posture? You choked on your spit when he spread his legs out. 

Sprawling completely on the mattress like he wasn’t in a room with a stranger. 

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” Ren yawned, snapping a hand and pointing between his legs, “Come back.” 

“I’m not doing anything until you have clothes on.” 

He rolled his eyes, now looking you up and down. Focusing on your bare tits, swinging around with your erratic movements. You watched him lick his lips, wagging his eyebrows, “Come on, don’t you want to sit back on the bed?”

You shook your head, crouching down to your bag. Trying to not flash him more of your goods, but that didn’t work. Not with him leaning to the side of the bed to make a show of him peeping on you. 

A wolfish grin splitting his face, “You have a nice ass.” 

“Can you stop,” you huffed, tugging on some sweats you found. 

Ren made a pouting noise when you stood, pushing his bottom lip out while you threaded your arms through a t-shirt. You shivered a little-it was still freezing in the room. Probably from the weather, it sounded like it got worse… hopefully this place would keep power. 

You looked back at the bed, Ren was still manspreading. One of his large paws crawling towards his cock, watching you with the same smirk. He let out a soft sigh when he touched himself, eyes momentarily shutting in bliss. 

“Do you have to do that with me here?” 

He cracked an eye open, “Do you have to be that far away?” 

You scoffed, moving to the corner of the room. Shivering since you were near the window, you plopped down in the cheap armchair. Ignoring the sounds of his fist gliding along his cock, you tucked your feet under your body. Humming a tune to ignore the arousal growing between your legs, there was no way you were caving to him. 

What kind of man does that with a complete stranger present!? 

More importantly, why was it turning you on? 

“Come here,” he whistled, you spared a glance at him. Blushing profusely at the sight, his cock was now fully erect. Standing tall and proud, tip flushed almost purple from want. You quickly looked away, trying to swallow down the drool that gathered in your mouth. 

What would happen if you gave in? 

Not like it would hurt you… he looked so delicious. 

“If I come over there, what's gonna happen,” you whispered, determined to stay put.

With a deep breath, the mattress groaned under his weight, probably leaning back to get comfortable. He seemed to love you being there, watching him, or trying not to. Ren made a small non-committal scoff, “Whatever you want to happen, baby.” 

“Don’t call me that, you know my name.” 

“Meow.” 

Your head snapped towards him, met with his grin. “Come on-you really want me to do this by myself?” he waved his cock, fist tight around the base. You rolled your eyes, training your eyes to focus on the least attractive part about him. 

You were coming up empty, all you could stare at was his cock. 

The prominent vein along the underside thrumming in time with his heartbeat. You could practically feel it along your tongue, rigid and stiff. Slowly, you stood from the chair, met with a soft whine from Ren. Eying your hungrily as you sauntered over, you planted a knee in the mattress. 

Between his legs, which were spread obscenely wide, he licked his lips in anticipation. 

“If I help you, are you going to be nicer to me?” 

He nodded, chest taking in sharp breaths. You slowly leaned back on your heels, stripping your top off, despite him seeing you naked earlier. Surprised when he bit his bottom lip, watching you play with your tits, rolling them in the palm of your hand. Just to make him squirm a bit, “I’ll be nicer, whatever you want.” 

“I’m really cold still,” you spoke softly, making sure to lean in close enough to graze his lips with your own before pulling away, “Can you help warm me up?” 

“Yes,” Ren's hands shot out, kneading your flesh a few times. Debating to grasp your tits or the small of your waist, like a kid in a candy store. So many options, but you didn’t want to wait. If you were doing this, it would be about you.

“Eat me out.” 

He stilled, cocking a brow, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” you exhaled on his neck, being sure to drag your kitty claws along his chest. Briefly grazing his nipples, savoring the way he gasped. “Eat me out, if you make me cum, I’ll let you fuck me. Like the desperate slut you are.” 

Ren scowled for a moment, nudging your face from his neck. Eyes dancing across your face before capturing your lips, moaning softly in your mouth, “I can make you cum so hard you’ll never want another man again.” 

You placed a soft kiss, rolling onto your back dramatically. Splaying your legs wide, “If that's true, why do you fuck a different girl every week?” 

He growled at you, actually growled. 

Hands no longer soft in their quest to memorize your skin, instead Ren pinned your legs hard enough for them to pop. Making you squeal from the stretch, “How fast do you think I can make you cum? Hm?” 

Before you could answer, he dove in. 

Lips wrapping around your clit and suckling fast, tongue flicking out every few seconds. You were already bucking up to meet him, but his firm hold kept you flush. While his tongue began to lap thick stripes along the seam of your pussy. Briefly hooking the tip into your entrance, both of you moaning when he tasted your wetness. 

“Shit-Kylo!” 

“Mm,” his voice vibrated against your clit, continuing his assault until you choked on your spit. You buried your fingers in his hair, keeping him in that right spot. “I’m so fucking close,” you cried out, pleading his name over and over and over. 

“You know,” he popped off, smacking his lips that were glistening with your cum, “I’d rather you cum on my cock.” 

“Wait-” 

Ren flipped you onto your chest, yanking your hips into the air. You barely had time to take a breath before he shoved his cock inside you. His breath hitched as he sank to the hilt, you groaned at the stretch. Now this, this you could get used to.

He pulled out slowly, you heard him swear under his breath. Leaving just the tip of his cock inside and ramming his hips into yours. Pulling a loud scream from your lungs, Ren chuckled at that. Pumping his cock at a rough pace, “Shh-you’re going to upset our neighbors.” 

You huffed, cheap shot, angling your hips a little so his cock would rub up against your front wall. Moaning when he picked up the pace, skin slapping skin. Ren leaned over your form, planting a hand on the headboard to keep it from knocking. You weakly lifted your head, clenching at the sight of his knuckles turning white. 

All you could do was sit and take it, revealing in the bliss you’d denied yourself for four months. 

-------

Ren dropped you both off at the airport two days later. 

You spent three days together, fucking each other's brains out. 

Choking on his cock while he was brushing his teeth, eating you out while you read through your newsfeed. Bouncing on his cock while he fed you breakfast, you didn’t need to change clothes the entire vacation. 

But you wanted to go home and were thankful for the storm ending so you could head home. It was a little awkward, Ren wasn’t very excited about the snow stopping. It felt like he was trying to stall you leaving but reluctantly listened to your desire to fly home. 

“Got everything?” he mumbled, hitching his backpack over his shoulder. The two of you were waiting in the TSA line, about to part ways to head home. You nodded, giving him a tight smile before stepping up on your own. 

Ignoring the feeling of his eyes on the back of your head. 

Both of you stood awkwardly after making it through, “Well-my gates over here,” you pointed behind you. Ren hummed in acknowledgment, kicking at the ground instead of looking at you. 

“Thanks for letting me crash with you,” you tried again, still nothing. 

You groaned, spinning on your heel. Back to being an asshole, you were kicking yourself for thinking he would be nicer. All he wanted was some pussy, and you willingly gave into him when you should’ve remained strong. 

Your parents picked you up back at home, lots of tears and laughs were shared. Thankful that you made it home without freezing, your mom was grateful for your friend who saved your life. She wanted to call him and tell him how much she appreciated it but you shrugged it off, he was just being nice. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything, you left out the part that he was the neighbor you always complained about. 

Collapsing on your bed felt surreal like you would wake up and be back in the hotel room at any moment. It was odd not sleeping next to him, you had grown accustomed to his clingy arms. Circling you in the middle of the night when he thought you were dead asleep, smelling your hair before tucking you into his naked chest. 

You tossed and turned all night, groaning when you were woken by your siblings to get up the next morning. Barely sleeping a wink, you resolved to take a nap later to try and not spoil your trip back home. 

At breakfast, your mom yelled at you from the kitchen. 

“Hey hon, someone’s calling you!” 

“Just answer it,” you groaned through a mouthful of cereal. Briefly hearing your mother answer in a typical chipper tone, stalling mid-sentence before she yelled again, “It’s someone named Kyle?” 

Shit, you shot to the kitchen. 

Snatching the phone and escaping to the living room where no one was hiding. 

“Kylo?” 

Hey, didn’t think you’d answer.

“How’d you get my number?” 

Took it while you were napping the other day, I knew you wouldn’t give it to me willingly.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright creeper, what’s up?” 

Just wanted to talk or whatever, felt weird not to. 

Silence. 

Are you gonna let me buy you coffee when we are back?

“You were being serious about that?” 

A scoff. 

Yeah-or we could just fuck again if that’s all you want from this. 

“Coffee sounds good.” 

Cool. Cool. 

It’s a date. 

-------

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose  @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

[slasherbastard]

Brahms and

“I am damaged.”

(Gives me Heathers vibes lolol)

(gif credit: toloveakiwi)

Warnings: Angst. A lot of Angst, swearing, suicide mention Word count: 2112 Notes: I was this close to writing a bad ending with the manor burning down but I felt bad for Brahms in this one - ALSO if you read this before I edited the first paragraph I’m sorry for the confusion lmao

A fresh start was what you needed. You managed to get away from your family once you took a job across the country as an accountant but you got lost on what felt like a never ending road heading to the middle of nowhere. When you first discovered the Manor it was by accident. You’d been walking for who knows how long among roads surrounded by trees, scared you’d eventually end up trespassing onto someone’s property - but instead you found yourself outside big open gothic gates.

The sun was starting to set and you tried calling out to whoever might’ve been inside the house behind the black spiked fences for a good half hour before going against your morals and just going inside. That’s when you discovered a few odd things. You didn’t know whether to start on the fact that there was drying blood on the floor or the chalk-like substance beside it next to the broken glass belonging to the mirror on the wall, it was a lot to take in.

You assumed that whoever was in the house had decided to flee or maybe someone had broken in - not counting yourself - it was a bit much to think about considering the fact that you were tired as hell and just wanted to sleep. You saw some bunched up blankets and pillows on the couch just feet away from what looked like a legitimate crime scene and decided that sleeping would be a terrible idea, but you were so tired that once again your morals were abandoned as you passed out curled on the white couch cuddling up to the blanket.

That morning, you met the man in the porcelain mask.

You watched him with wide eyes and worried yourself with thoughts of him hurting you and the blood puddle from last night flashed like a ‘life before your eyes’ memory as you tried to imagine what this large figure could do to you - not sexually, although those thoughts were close behind. He got close and as much as the mask creeped you out and you prayed you were dreaming, he didn’t turn hostile, instead he just asked for your name in a high pitched child-like voice.

“Y-Y/N. I am so sorry if I intruded - do you live here? I was just getting ready to go if-”

“No. Stay.” Stay?

“I can explain, sir. I was just so tired and the gates were open and I just needed to-” You gripped your head as an ache hit, you couldn’t tell whether or not it was caused by your own rambling or if it was from the confusion of the events you’d witnessed and were witnessing.

The man - who you later found out was named Brahms - explained as little as you’d wanted. A doll and a list of rules, why? Who knows? Definitely not you, he just expected you to roll with it and so you did. You were a little scared of him so you decided to follow the rules if it meant keeping you alive.

Cut to a few weeks down the line. You’re still living in this gothic daydream of a house with a mysterious man who gave you Phantom of the Opera vibes, things were surprisingly going well for you. For example, you weren’t dead and as weird as it sounded, you and Brahms were now a thing.

Was it weird kissing porcelain lips rather than real ones? Yes. Was it weird falling asleep next to that face? Yes. Was it weird how he never took that damn mask off unless your eyes were covered? Yes. But you managed to deal with it.

When you said you wanted a fresh start this isn’t what you had in mind but weren’t really complaining at the same time. At last, you were happy. You always dreamed of living away from everyone in a cottage in the woods where your only responsibility was to bake bread and not worry about anything, and this was just as close as you were gonna get to that - a manor, where your only responsibility was to care for Brahms. He’s so mysterious, it makes you feel something that you couldn’t explain. But as weird and unexplainable as it truly was to you, you were still happy.

However, things started going sour after an incident that occurred after lunch one day. Brahms’ had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and he was constantly throwing tantrums over the smallest things. You’d just finished the dishes and Brahms was sulking around the dining room table shoving at the chairs and kicking the table legs every time he passed one.

You were growing sick of him and threw the dirty rag you were holding onto the counter and squawked at the older man. “Brahms! What is your problem?”

He stopped and looked up at you for a few seconds before a string of apologies fell out of your mouth, as genuine as they were they also seemed so shallow as you watched Brahms’ eyes. You weren’t standing close enough to see any twitches or expression in those eyes, but you did see what looked to be tears. It broke you.

That’s when Brahms started growing distant. Usually he loved being around you and lived and breathed you but now it just feels like the real Brahms is actually dead and haunting you. You thought It’d blow over in a few days - or in Brahms’ case, a few hours - but it didn’t. He continued to just linger like a ghost, you could feel him watching you but he’d never speak a word and if you tried to initiate a conversation with him he’d disappear.

He began spending more time in the walls and his side of the bed was now occupied by nothing, growing cold. His guilt from the other day was eating him alive and you weren’t actually sure if he’d been eating either since the meals you left him in the freezer stayed there. It worried you, but you couldn’t get through to him, which made you even more worried.

---

That night you heard a loud bang come from downstairs and quickly sat up, swinging your legs over your bed and onto the floor you pushed yourself up and ran for the bedroom door. You opened it then stopped before going back in to grab your phone, switching the phone’s light on then making your way downstairs as quickly as you could. Brahms was on the floor, the fridge was open, and the pot of spaghetti you made for dinner was now sprawled across the kitchen floor. Brahms looked up at you and you expected to see shame in his eyes, but they looked dead instead - Not as if he didn’t regret his mistake or that he didn’t care, but he just seemed dead inside.

You knelt down beside him and reached for him but before you could say his name he was up and running for the closest entrance to the walls. “BRAHMS!” You called after him but he didn’t stop, so you ran after him. Being in the walls for the first time was weird but all those feelings felt as if they were miles away while Brahms was racing through your mind even quicker, he seemed to be moving faster as if he were trying to get away from you. You continued calling after him until he turned a corner into his loft and stopped dead in the middle of the room. He didn’t turn to meet your eyes or talk, he just stood there with his back to you looking down at the floor.

You took a few seconds to watch him just in case he was planning on doing something but he didn’t, he just stood there. You tried to step forward and reach for him but your limbs stayed put, so you let out the breath you’d been holding in. “Brahms, please.” Your words were shaky as you tried not to cry. “I told you, I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I didn’t-”

You stopped when Brahms slowly turned to you - a part of you was relieved that he’d finally stopped ignoring you - and said those three words. “I am damaged.”

Neither of you spoke as you tried to collect your words but you couldn’t find the right words. “What?”

“I am damaged.”

“No you’re not Brahms-”

“YES I AM!” He raised his voice and you took a few steps back, bumping into the wall. “I am a monster.”

You were very confused at this moment, you thought Brahms was mad at you for yelling at him but he was mad at himself? You took a step forward but he took a step back, purposefully trying to keep some distance between the two of you.

“I’m a monster.”

“Brahms you are not a monster. You are not damaged, you’re not bad.” You tried to convince him as he began rummaging through a box on the floor, you began biting down on your thumbnail softly as he picked up what looked to be a news article and shoved it into your chest with a slight bit of force.

You looked down and grabbed the newspaper as he went to let go and you began reading. “I killed her.”

You clicked your tongue as you tried to take in this new information, you were finally starting to realise why he held so much back from you, especially when it came to his past. Letting out a breath you looked up at the man. “This doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You were shocked by the words that came out of your mouth and shocked that you meant everything you’d said. You were standing right next to a murderer and you weren’t scared.

Without warning Brahms ripped off his mask before stepping up to you, just inches away from your face as he screamed “What about this! Huh? I am not who you fucking think I am! I am fucking dam-” He bit his lip and quickly turned around, putting the mask back on and trying to quieten his sobs. “Just go. Before I hurt you, too.” he said in a hushed, calmer voice that you almost didn’t hear.

“No.” Brahms turned to you, he was just as confused as you were. “What else have you done. What else are you hiding from me?” You weren’t angry, still a little upset, but not angry.

“You’ll leave me, just like they all did.”

“Brahms trust me, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve done bad things too.” You let out an awkward laugh in an attempt to try to lighten the mood but it clearly failed as you cleared your throat and tried to act like it didn’t happen. “Please. I just want you to be honest with me.”

He didn’t respond. Instead he took the mask off and wiped away the stray tears before they could fall. Brahms began to dive into his past, from the murder of his childhood friend to the most recent murder that took place the night you arrived. He answered all your questions and watched you, still worried you’d go against your promises and run but you didn’t. You just stood there and listened, you were glad he was finally being honest - in return you told him about your past and even though it wasn’t as gruesome as his he still listened. By the end of that conversation you felt closer to Brahms, it felt like a twisted version of couple’s therapy but it worked. Brahms was still very surprised at the fact that you stayed even after he admitted to his crimes, he felt a bit sympathetic for you even.

That night the two of you fell asleep next to each other, woke up together, ate breakfast together, it was the most inseparable the two of you had been in months. After last night you’d expected a bittersweet ending - you expected to be kicked out, even - but you were only closer to him, the strange man who once wore a mask of porcelain.

This is as good as your life is going to get, and you’re still happy.

[strawbunniiee]

A Girl and a Ghost Ch 5. Precious Rose

SOOOO this one is a bit lengthy!! there’s a bit of blood, a lil language, so fair warning! oh yeah and HEHEHE SPOILER ALERT THERE’S SOME TASTY PHANTOMEACH MWAHAHAHHAA

i had a LOT of fun writing the phantom and peach fluff hehehe ;)

dont worry!! this definitely won’t be the last chapter either, there’s still gonna be more of my cheesy fic sjfndkfd

hope you enjoy!! @salamifuposey @monsterbride99 just letting these lovely hooman beans know that this chapter exists!!

Jawaii had her arms raised, ready to slice King Boo to ribbons, but the king blasted her back into a wall.

Jawaii had the wind knocked out of her lungs as she slid to the floor.

Phantom rushed to Jawaii's side, picking up her petite body. His eyes became a deep, dark blood red as he shot a murderous glare at King Boo.

"She didn't even stand a chance." he smirked.

Phantom charged a blast of blue fire in his palm. "DIE!" he screamed, hurling it at the king with all of his might.

He had attempted to avoid it, but he wasn't fast enough. The ball engulfed him in flames as he screamed.

The king flung a fireball from his cracked crown, but due to his crown being damaged, it spiraled out of control, which hit Phantom in the process but also set the attic ablaze. He gasped and grabbed Peach's body.

Jawaii regained her breath and jumped off of Phantom.

"JAWAII, NO!"

She didn't listen, instead she ran to King Boo and aimed to tackle him. She phased right through him and onto the floor. This just made him guffaw.

"YOU IDIOT! OH, YOU MORONS JUST MAKE ME LAUGH!"

Phantom began to inhale, gathering air in his body to let out the loudest, most powerful opera scream he had ever sung.

King Boo saw this as an opportunity to take Peach back from Phantom. The ghost Rabbid glanced over at Jawaii in panic, as if begging her to do something.

Jawaii leaped up while the king was distracted and stabbed him, taking great effort to make it as painful as possible for him. It cut open his skin, creating a massive gash on the side of his face, bleeding out a strange blood-like substance, perhaps ectoplasm.

The king let out a monstrous howl as he fell over onto the floor screaming, his hands over the gash.

Then, Phantom finally let out his scream, after inhaling so much air he felt like he was about to explode. It was a force so strong, so powerful that it blew a massive hole in the attic, blowing the bleeding king far away, all the way to the swamps in Spooky Trails.

Both of their ears rung from the noise.

Peach began to slowly wake up. Phantom picked up Jawaii and burst out of the hole in the manor, taking the three of them away.

———

Peach screamed when she fully woke up.

"Wh-where am I? Who are you? ...Oh. Mr. Tom?... what happened?" the princess sputtered out, deeply confused by what was happening. "All I remember is... King Boo taking me away, and then... nothing. And... who's the little girl?"

Phantom's face turned red and his eyes widened as he shyly looked away, blushing. "Ah, w-well... Princess, it's a rather complicated st-story, you see,—"

"Phantom, why don't you and I tell her what happened together? Maybe it'll be a lot easier that way!" Jawaii chimed in cheerfully.

Phantom smiled at Jawaii. "I suppose you're quite right!"

The two happily retold Peach everything that had happened, complete with how the two became friends, their adventure in Spooky Trails, leading all the way up to them rescuing her from King Boo.

"Oh my goodness, what a story! It sounds very scary but exciting at the same time! I'm glad that you're safe and sound, though!" beamed Peach.

Phantom blushed yet again. "Oh, why thank you dear Princess! I'm quite happy you went on unscathed as well."

"Hang on a sec, you know this lady Phantom? She seems very nice!" asked Jawaii.

"O-oh, yes yes! I do know her. We're, erm, friends." Phantom said quickly.

Jawaii squinted suspiciously at him. "You seem super awkward in front of her. Do you have a crush on her or somethin'?"

Phantom's face was a bright red tomato at this point. "N-no, that's preposterous, o-of course not! Why, no male and female can be t-together without people believing that they are lovers!"

Peach giggled a bit. Jawaii grinned mischievously.

"You know, Jawaii has a point. Do you have a crush on me..?" asked Peach.

"...N-no, it's just hot out here. I act a b-bit strangely when it's scorching hot like this!" It was actually quite cold that morning, contrary to Phantom's statement. "Oh, and would you look at th-that, we're here already!"

They had made it to the silent castle in the early hours of the morning. The sun had not even come up yet, still pitch black and silent. Phantom set Peach and Jawaii down gently.

"...Thank you so much for saving me from King Boo, Tom." Peach gave Phantom a gentle kiss on the cheek. His face violently blushed as he had a look of sheer surprise on his face, his jaw hanging open. Jawaii couldn't help but snicker at the look on Phantom's face.

"I... oh my! I wasn't e-expecting that, my princess." Phantom stammered.

Peach simply just smiled. "Would you like me to get you a room to stay in for the rest of the night? You two must be very exhausted after your dangerous adventure together!"

"That would be very much appreciated!"

"Oh... Jawaii? Should I tell your parents where you are...?" asked Peach, concerned.

Oh crud, I totally FORGOT about that. thought Jawaii.

"Uhhhhh... I'm sure they're fine! I'll just come back when the sun's up!"

"All right, then. I'll be right back in just a moment!" Peach walked off.

Phantom went silent.

"Hey uh... now that she isn't here... do you actually have a crush on her?" asked Jawaii.

Phantom looked around and whispered in Jawaii's ear. "To be completely honest, yes. I do. She's the most beautiful, kind woman I have ever met... and thanks to King Boo bringing back the memories of my past life, I know that I had spent my past life attempting to get her to notice me. But it had resulted in my demise."

"First of all, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, no shit Sherlock, for a theater nerd you're a TERRIBLE liar y'know." she teased lightheartedly. "Second of all, ouch... that really sucks. But hey! In this life you befriended her!"

Phantom sighed. "I wish so dearly that we could be together. I tried so hard in my past life, I sacrificed so much to get her to notice me... but that red capped demon had gotten in the way countless times. And worst of all... he and Peach are together."

Phantom began to softly sob, his hands over his face in despair. Jawaii slowly walked over and gave him a hug.

"Aw... I'm so sorry about that... But my mom says it's not good to bottle up emotions. Maybe you should tell her how you feel..?" she suggested.

Phantom just stared in silence for a few moments before he finally responded. "...Perhaps."

"Maybe I could help you with it!"

"...No, i-it's best for me to simply just... tell her. I've known her for quite a while now, but I've mostly been too nervous to do as much as speak to her."

Jawaii hugged him again, even tighter than the last time. "I'm here for you, best friend." she smiled.

Phantom hugged back. "...Thank you, Jawaii."

After a few minutes, Peach came back in to tell them that their room was ready.

"Sorry about the wait! We had a few issues... come on in, it's much comfier in here than it is out there. It's so cold out." she said.

"Oh! You're all right, Princess."

Peach escorted the two into the castle and into their room. Just like outside, the castle was very dark. It had little to no light other than the light of the stars and moon softly shining through the windows.

When they arrived, Peach opened the door. The room was very tidy and had very expensive looking furnishings, and two extremely fluffy beds with plentiful amounts of pillows and blankets. Jawaii gasped and immediately began to jump on the bed. Phantom and Peach laughed a bit at Jawaii's antics.

"Well, sweet dreams you two. You both deserve it after the adventure you've had tonight! And thank you both again for saving me... that was such a terrifying experience. No matter how many times I get kidnapped, it's always so scary."

She smiled and blew them both kisses. Phantom blushed.

"Ah... you're welcome, Peach. Bonne nuit."

Peach smiled and closed the door. She went back off to bed happily.

"What the shit did you say to her? Bun... bon-nue. What?" Jawaii asked, deeply confused.

Phantom quietly chuckled. "Bonne nuit. It's French for good night."

"The heck's a French?"

"Heh heh. Perhaps I shouldn't be laughing, for you're an alien child. You don't know everything about Earth and that's understandable!"

"No, it's okay. I like to make people laugh. 'Cuz it means I made them happy!" replied Jawaii.

Phantom smiled at Jawaii once more. "We should get some rest, my child. We've had a very long day. Bonne nuit, Jawaii." He laughed a bit at his own joke.

Jawaii smiled. "Nighty night, Phantom." She yawned and stretched and sprawled out on her bed, quickly falling asleep within a matter of minutes.

Phantom, however, lay awake in his bed, thinking about what Jawaii had told him to do. He tossed and turned, pondering his decision. His heart throbbed, wondering what would happen.

Then, he decided.

He was going to tell her tonight. He had figured that he may as well get it over with now.

He nervously got out of bed and quietly phased through the walls to get to Peach's bedroom, where she had still laid awake. She was slightly startled by Phantom seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Oh! Tom? Is there... something you need?" she asked

"Well... there is something I must tell you. I've hidden it from you for so long... because I was afraid of being rejected, I suppose." he admitted.

"Oh... Well, what is it?"

"I know that you are already taken... b-but..." Phantom covered his blushing face with his hands, and forced himself to finally choke out the words.

"I l-love you."

He knew that this was the end. She was going to kick him out of her castle... or far worse.

But her response shocked him down to his very gramophone.

"Well... if I'm completely honest, I have feelings for you too. That peck on the cheek earlier... was something I've wanted to do for a long time." she smiled and looked away a bit.

Phantom stared dumbfounded at her. He couldn't believe it. "B-b-but, you— and M-Mario—" he stammered.

"Oh, that's just a rumor that goes around... everybody seems to think that! He's still a very close friend of mine, and I'm so glad he's saved me so many times."

"Erm... speaking of that... King Boo told me something about myself that not even I had known. I... I was a human once. I wanted so badly for you to notice me... each time you were kidnapped, I always attempted to save you... but my attempts were futile, for Mario always saved you before I ever could. But one day, King Boo trapped you in a painting... and for the first time, I had arrived in time to save you. Unfortunately, he had killed me and sealed my soul inside a gramophone. I had forgotten about this previous life... until he had told me. Then all of the memories rushed inside me. Saving you had felt... like I had finally fulfilled my goal." he explained.

"...Actually... now that I think of it, I do remember a handsome young man who had clothes not different than yours who had come to save me from him. I remember his beautiful deep voice... with that accent... it was your voice! Your voice was always so familiar to me...but I could never figure out where I heard it."

Phantom's face turned red from the complements. "P-princess, please stop flattering me..."

She giggled. "You haven't become any less handsome than you were as a human, you know."

Before Phantom could respond, she kissed him again. This time, on the lips.

The two kissed under the pale morning moonlight shimmering down into the room.

[spookiifi]

And I oop

Sorry in advance

Warnings: Death, Angst, Hauntings, Mourning & Grief, Slight Horror

Maul is coming back from a mission when his comm chimes. He expects it to be a welcoming message from Sasha.

His warm smile fades as a mandalorian guard appears, his very last smile.

The guard is shaking when he brings the worst news.

A housekeeper found Sasha’s body in the library, lifeless and pale. There was no explanation as of why.

His Sasha

Maul freezes and he swears that his hearts stopped beating.

He crushes the commlink in his fist and tosses it across the ship.

The first night without his love was the worst. The bedroom was trashed and he tore through pillows. The only objects that weren't destroyed were Sasha’s brush and favorite dress. He held those dear as he curled into himself.

No one slept that night. He just wanted her back.

Oh, would he regret those words

A few days later, Maul spotted a woman in white drifting down the halls of the Sundari Palace. He watched as she fiddled with the necklace that he gifted her on Life Day.

Oh gods she was alive. Maul’s Sasha was here in front of him.

But he knew better. 

Maul remembered cradling flesh and blood that grew colder and colder. He remembered his screams echoing in the library as he held her for the last time.

He needed to make sure. So he ran

And she passed right through his chest, leaving the feeling of pins and needles down Maul's spine.

Her pure white eyes bore into the marble floors, She doesn’t speak besides the phrase.

“Where are you?” She cries for her lover that wasn’t there for her.

His Sasha...

He expected that to be the very first and last, but gods...

She kept coming back, asking that same damned question

Maul nearly jumped out of his skin when she appeared at his bedside. He can’t remember the last time he’d slept. Surely he was going mad

Please make it stop

He asks for her to come back. Even though she can’t hear him, he still begs and begs.

Yet she still asks, “Where are you?”

---

@justalittlecloud @tinalbion @botherbother-blog @rogue-wonderful @zabrak-show @lestrange2703 @danipixel @alicedoestheinternet @a-dorin @savagesbonergarage @laoness

@maulieber @lovelyzabrak-meadow

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 14: “A Masterstroke by the Lover of Trapdoors”

<< Previous chapter

Raoul and Christine are still running away from the shadow on the rooftop when they encounter the Persian, who tells them to run in the opposite direction. Raoul makes another try at getting Christine to run away with him on the spot, but once again, she refuses and repeats that Raoul will probably need to make her go against her will if he wants to elope with her (what is he supposed to do though? Drag a screaming and kicking Christine through the opera house? Drug her or knock her unconscious and roll her up in a carpet?).

She tries to convince him that Erik has not overheard their conversation on the rooftop because he is working on „Don Juan Triumphant“, but doesn’t seem to quite believe it herself. When Raoul bitterly says how brave she was to play his fiancée, Christine reveals that she had actually told Erik all about the engagement game she was playing with Raoul, and that he was willing to tolerate it under the assumption that Raoul would be leaving for the North Pole soon.

It is also obvious that despite the kiss Christine has given him in the preceding chapter, Raoul is still unsure of her feelings, which might also be due to her speaking of it like a one-time thing:

“Are people unhappy when they’re in love?”  “Yes, when they’re in love and aren’t sure of being loved.” “Are you saying that for Erik?” “For Erik and for myself”, answered Raoul, shaking his head with a thoughtful, forlorn expression.”

To a certain degree, Christine might be asking that first question for herself, too, since she is obviously unhappy and has shown signs of crying before. Keep in mind that this is the last interaction we see between Raoul and Christine before her abduction. Raoul is still uncertain at this point if Christine actually loves him, which means that he is soon going to risk his life for a girl whose feelings remain a mystery to him. We’ve got to give him some credit for that…

In her conversation with Raoul, Christine calls Erik a “man of heaven and earth” - not a ghost, monster or demon. She has seen his face, and even though she feels horror, she apparently also sees him as a man here. Raoul is once again taken aback by how Christine talks about Erik, making him question her determination to leave. She also tells him that no matter where she calls, Erik will always hear her. This is certainly due to the acoustics of the building and its secret passageways, since Erik apparently used similar techniques in the palace he built in Persia. On a deeper level, this is a symbol of how strongly they are still bound together, and seems to extend into the supernatural.

We also learn that Erik has promised Christine to stay away from her dressing room and her bedroom in his house, and that she trusts what he says. It is quite poignant to see how far Erik and Christine apparently trust each other, and how each of them is not fully deserving of the trust put into them even if they seem to be trying. In „Apollo‘s Lyre“, Christine also mentions how she instinctively trusted Erik.

Erik has given Christine a key to his house, which must be a pretty big thing for him as he puts his own safety into her hands with this. Christine shows Raoul the key but refuses to give it to him when he demands it because it “would be a betrayal” (apparently, she doesn‘t consider what happened on the rooftop a „betrayal“ and is also unwilling to betray Erik). But then she realises that she has lost Erik’s gold ring, probably while she gave Raoul the kiss on the rooftop - which is symbolic, of course. When Erik gave her the ring, he told her that she would be safe as long as she wore it - but if she parted with it, he would take revenge. She is greatly distressed, fearing what Erik might do to both of them - but even that is not enough to get her to run away. As she seems to have lost the ring on the rooftop, and Erik has it back in his possession two days later, saying that he had found it, it is likely that he directly picked it up after Christine and Raoul left the rooftop.

Raoul then goes home, cursing Erik and resolving to save Christine while he goes to bed. In the darkness, he thinks he sees Erik’s glowing eyes watching him from the balcony, and turns on the light to see if the eyes disappear. He takes his pistol and fires a shot at Erik’s eyes, which wakes the entire household including Philippe. Philippe thinks Raoul, who is rambling incoherently, has gone completely mad and asks him who this „Erik“ is that Raoul seems to be so obsessed with. Raoul states:

“He’s my rival!”

That statement is significant because it shows that Raoul views Erik primarily as a romantic threat to himself - not just as a threat to Christine’s safety or a general nuisance that he needs to get rid of, but as a serious contender for Christine’s hand. Raoul considering him his rival also puts them on more or less equal footing. Raoul also starts to worry that he should not have been so rash because if it really was Erik, Christine might not forgive Raoul for hurting him after all.

From Raoul’s description of his glowing eyes and the fact that there really is blood on the balcony and the drainpipe, we can conclude that it was indeed Erik standing there, and that he has been wounded by Raoul’s shot to a significant degree, considering there was enough blood to have seeped through his clothing and dripped onto the balcony in a very short time. The explanation of Raoul having shot at a cat doesn’t sound very likely, given that cats wouldn’t usually slide down drainpipes to get off a balcony.

Raoul and Philippe go on to quarrel over Raoul’s plan to elope with Christine. Philippe will not tolerate Raoul marrying a girl from the opera, but Raoul seems to be determined to go through with his plan anyway and defy Philippe’s wishes.

The next morning, there is an article in the newspaper “L’Époque” revealing that Raoul and Christine are engaged and about to marry. It is somewhat strange though because we never see Raoul and Christine actually getting engaged in a serious fashion. There’s the “engagement game” of course, but it cannot be considered the same as a serious marriage proposal. In addition to that, the last time we saw Raoul and Christine discussing their elopement, there were distinctly no plans of marriage included, as Raoul promised to take Christine away and then leave her to herself, as she has decided *not* to marry. It is not clear when that plan changed, or if Christine is even aware that his plans have changed. Philippe is very much embarrassed by Raoul’s behaviour, and swears that he will stop Raoul if he still plans to go through with his plans of elopement with Christine. Raoul leaves without saying anything more to Philippe, and spends the day making preparations for the elopement until 9 pm.

There is a curious detail that Leroux draws attention to, but I’m unsure about why he mentions it at all: Raoul’s carriage is driven by a coachman “whose face was largely hidden by the long scarf he wore” (They might have picked up on this in the 2004 movie). It cannot be Erik here though, as he now appears on scene to observe the carriage while the coachman is still sitting on it. In this scene, Erik is wearing the attire we have come to associate with him because of the musical mostly - the black cloak and felt hat.

During that night’s performance of Faust, Christine appears in the role of Marguerite again, but this time, the rumours about her engagement from the morning paper cause the audience to react with hostility to her since they see her as a social climber. This gives her (and us) an idea of how Parisian society would have reacted to her if she had ever become the Viscountess (or Countess, if Philippe is dead) de Chagny (and it would most likely have been far worse if she had married the man suspected of having killed his brother over her in public). Christine is quickly losing confidence when she suddenly sees Carlotta appear in one of the boxes, and her defiant nature is awakened. Not wishing to appear weak and succumb before her enemy, she regains her confidence and sings with all her soul again.

In the final scene of „Faust“, Faust and Mephisto come to rescue an insane Marguerite from her prison cell, but even though she and Faust confess their love for each other, she refuses to escape and asks the angels to take her soul to heaven instead (you can watch it here, for example: https://youtu.be/i2C4ezHUF1I).

Final scene from „Faust“ performance at the Metropolitan Opera (image from bruzanemediabase.com)

When Christine pleads with the angels in the final prison scene, Leroux makes use of the ambiguity of the „angel“. Raoul stands up from where he has been sitting in the amphitheater (not the de Chagny box where Philippe is sitting), but the Angel of Music is quicker: the entire stage is plunged into darkness, and when the lights return, Christine is gone. A great commotion ensues, with everybody trying to explain where Christine could be, but her co-star Carolus Fonta then announces publicly that she has disappeared, and that no one knows what has really happened.

Erik’s action here is both daring and desperate. From his perspective, he needs to act now before Christine will be out of his reach forever. He has overheard the escape plan, and I guess he also saw the newspaper speculating about her impending marriage, and now sees his hand forced before it’s too late for him. The chapter‘s title calling it a „masterstroke“ („coup de maître“) highlights the extraordinary skill and boldness that were necessary to stage his abduction of Christine in the fashion that he chose. The „lover of trapdoors“ is a nickname that was given to him in Persia, as we will later learn from the Persian.

Image from wikipedia

Next chapter >>

[blu-joons]

BTS Reaction: You Love Musical Theatre

Jin:

He handed you the envelope he’d held onto for weeks, a huge smile was on his face as you opened the seal, pulling out two tickets to the theatre show that had just begun.

“Are you serious right now?” You giggled, looking at both the tickets to see where you’d be sat, right at the front of the stalls.

“I wanted to do something nice seeing as you’ve been so busy recently,” he smiled, feeling your arms wrap around him.

Your lips pressed to his cheeks, “this is the best gift you could have ever given me, thank you so much Jin, I really wanted to go and watch this one as well.”

He nodded, “I knew you did; it took a lot to get tickets, but eventually I managed to get some, we’ll head down there in a couple of weeks.”

“Those two weeks cannot come soon enough,” you laughed, cupping either side of his face, “you’re amazing, I don’t deserve your kind heart sometimes.” “Yes you do,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, “you’ve worked hard, and you need some time off to relax and enjoy yourself.”

“This will definitely do just that.”

Yoongi:

When he handed you control of the music in the car, he knew he was in for a long trip, when he watched you place the Hairspray soundtrack DVD into the player.

“How’s this one for you?” You asked him as Good Morning Baltimore began to play, sniggering as his eyes rolled, turning to face you.

“It’s not the worst one, there could be worse,” he chuckled, smirking as you began to sing along with all the lyrics out of the window.

He couldn’t believe how invested you were into it, screaming out loud, “whenever you want to join in, just slide into the song Yoongi, I know you love it really.”

His eyes rolled, “I like it, but I don’t know the lyrics, you’ll have to teach me them all one day when we’ve got a bit of time on our hands to sit and listen.”

“You’re joking, but I love it that much I can teach you all of the lyrics if you want to,” you assured him, resting your hand across onto his arm.

“Perhaps that wasn’t such a good suggestion,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat, “you just enjoy it for yourself for now, I’ll learn to love it one day.”

“You’ll be obsessed soon enough.”

Hoseok:

The two of you were in stitches as you danced around to Hamilton in the living room, neither of you could control yourselves, falling onto the sofa on top of each other.

“We’d never get a job at the theatre,” you laughed, trying to push Hobi off of the top of you whilst he tried to stop himself laughing.

“I was made for the stage,” he challenged, throwing his arms into the air, “musical theatre is perfect for me, I’m dramatic enough to be a star.” Your head nodded,” you’re not wrong, you’d be perfect for theatre, only you’d probably start giggling halfway through your lines and mess things up.”

He refused to agree with you, “could you imagine me in Les Mis, when the deaths happen, I could do all the gasping, sound effects would be where I’m good.”

“You’d be perfect for sound effects, they’d hire you in an instance,” you assured him, as your laughter began to die down, the two of you realised what was going on.

“I have no idea what just happened,” he sighed, rolling off your body, laying down on the floor as he tried to catch his breath.

“It’s all musical theatre fun.”

Namjoon:

As the music of the Phantom of the Opera played behind you as you cooked, Namjoon’s ears focussed on the music, the lyrics particularly caught his attention.

“Musical theatre certainly has some incredible songs,” he mumbled, watching as you sorted everything out in the kitchen.

“It’s all part of the appeal, that’s why I fell in love with it,” you replied. You could tell as you watched him, he was in deep thought about things.

He nodded lightly, “I’d love to write for musical theatre one day, that would be so cool, they’re the kind of songs that people remember for such a long time.”

You smiled across at him, watching as he began to type into his phone, “I think that you could one day, you’ve got the skills to write for it, a proper love song would be perfect.”

“I could never write as good as these songs though, they’re something else, now I see why you tried to get me to listen to it for so long,” he chuckled.

“Because I knew you’d like it,” you reminded him, poking out your tongue, “you should have listened to me from the start when I told you about it.”

“Yeah, maybe you were right.”

Jimin:

You could barely contain yourself as you walked down the aisle to find your seats at the theatre, Jimin loved seeing you so happy, sitting himself down beside you.

“Excited?” He asked, to which you quickly nodded your head. “Did I do a good job bringing you here? I thought you’d like it.”

“You did an amazing job, any show would have been great, but Rock of Ages is a personal favourite of mine,” you encouraged, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He smiled widely, “do you want to know a secret? This is my first ever musical theatre show? I don’t really know what to expect from this.”

You rested your hand over his, “I promise you will really enjoy it; it won’t take long for you to start singing and dancing, it’ll be like a BTS concert.”

“I like the sound of that,” he chuckled, taking a good look around, “although, not to brag, we definitely play to slightly bigger crowds than this.”

“That’s definitely bragging,” you whispered into his ear, as his eyes rolled, “but I guess being such a worldwide superstar, you’re allowed to say that.”

“I definitely am.”

Taehyung:

He couldn’t hide his smile when the We Will Rock You soundtrack began to play out as you prepared yourself for date night, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“Enjoying yourself?” You asked him as he began to lip sync along, acting out every word as if it were him on the stage performing, making you smile.

“Don’t you think I’d be good in theatre? I’m ready for my calling.” He told you, remaining in character, glancing only briefly at the smile on your face.

Your head shook, “I don’t even know what to say to you right now, I’m just enjoying the moment,” you chuckled, grabbing onto your phone to try and record his performance.

His hand came across, snatching it from you, “I’m an actor, you don’t record actors at the theatre, so why would you film me? It’s not fair to just film me.”

“Perhaps because we’re in our bedroom, not the theatre, without a crowd” you teased, trying to fight him for your phone back.

“One day I’ll be on the stage and you’ll regret saying that, trying to take photos of me to show how big a star I am.”

“You can dream Tae.”

Jungkook:

Your hands tapped onto the steering wheel along to the music, Jungkook looked across at you, watching you get into the music of The Lion King that played.

“Why don’t you be Nala, and I’ll be Simba?” Jungkook suggested, smiling as your eyes glanced over at him, your head shook in response.

“Nala barely has any lines, you’ll be doing most of the singing,” you groaned, watching his shoulders shrug, and his smirk grow.

He blew a kiss across to you, “technically I am the singer in this relationship, you can be Pumba if you want to be, I reckon you could do a good job of that.”

Your head continued to shake, “you’re horrible to me, don’t ruin The Lion King for me now too, I’ve already dealt with that when we listened to Hairspray the other day.”

“I thought that suggesting you be Amber was a great idea, it’s not my fault you said no,” he reminded you, he loved seeing you get so wound up.

“You said that Namjoon should be Tracy, you thought Namjoon would be a better Tracy than me, it’s offensive,” you scolded, turning away from him.

“It’s alright, Amber’s the pretty one.”

---

Masterlist

[cywscross]

From @lightveils on Twitter (free to use wherever!). I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. I definitely have enough fics to fill it lol~

-0-

A Fic You Love Without Knowing The Source Material:

I was born for this by esama (Assassin’s Creed | Altair x Desmond | M)

Juno did her best to lead him to her preferred fate, but the end is coming and Desmond has doubts.

A Fic With A Premise That Shouldn’t Work But Does:

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

A Fic You’ve Reread Several Times:

Hooverville by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

Town to town, train to train, tent to tent.

By 1932, the dust had begun to blow and the jobs were gone.

Anonymity was a byproduct of looking for work, which made it both necessary and convenient.

Stiles had enough secrets of his own to know to look the other way when he saw something that shouldn’t be possible.

The ghost of a tail giving enough balance to disembark a moving train.

Near silent Latin whispered on the edge of a tent encampment.

A flash of burning eyes.

He had more than enough to worry about without adding the oddities of others, and besides- having unusually sharp teeth certainly didn’t make a man worse than the ones running from the wife and kids they couldn’t feed.

So Stiles kept his observations to himself. He kept his everything to himself.

Until he met a man. One with eyes so blue they seemed to glow- and then they did.

Stiles tried to look away, but for the first time he was stopped.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart. Aren’t you curious?”

A Fic You Still Remember Many Years Later:

All True-Hearted Souls by mardia (Temeraire | Laurence x Granby | G)

“For God's sake, if someone doesn't talk Laurence out of these constant heroics, I wouldn't bet a farthing on his chances; no, and not ours either.” Four times that John Granby helped save William Laurence's life. Laurence/Granby. Spoilers up to Empire of Ivory.

A Comfort Fic:

Nothing Improper by Bunnywest (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

“How long since someone touched you, sweet boy?” Peter asks, his voice barely a breath in Stiles’ ear. “Days? Weeks? Months?” Stiles nods imperceptibly at that last one.

“After…after everything, after Allison,” is all Stiles manages to get out.

A Cathartic Fic:

Swing by ShippersList (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles wants to fly.

A Fic You’d Print And Put On Your Bookshelf:

Nose to the Wind by Batsutousai (HP | Tom x Harry | M)

While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?

A Fic You Associate With A Song (x2):

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia) (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

~

Full Circle by Nike Femme (FMA | Roy x Ed | T)

Edward Elric returns with amnesia. He has lived the past four years as Auric, a Gatekeeper. But there are some battles that only he can fight. Will his friends be able to awaken Ed, and what happens to Auric if they do?

A Fic That Inspires You:

Off the Line by esama (FFVII | Cloud x Vincent | T)

In which Cloud gets a Virtual Reality Dream Console – ShinRa's latest in virtual reality technology. Aaand everything pretty much goes downhill from there.

A Fic That Brought You On Board A New Ship:

Me and Mine by linndechir (Fast and the Furious | Deckard x Owen | E)

The last time they'd spoken, Deckard had told Owen that he was tired of cleaning up his messes. But the first thing he did after breaking out of prison was to take Owen to the other end of the world so they could lick their wounds and start planning their revenge.

A Fic You Wish Could Be A Movie:

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning) by westgirl (Hawaii Five-0 | Steve x Danny | T)

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

A Fic That Led To You Making Friends With The Author:

Begin and End by Rikkamaru (Log Horizon x HP | G)

This is how it begins: a boy rejected by his family, a boy reunited with his brother by his sister-in-law's intervention. A boy who found a family in an online game. But how will it end?

FREE SPACE:

Reverti Ad Praeteritum by Batsutousai (Fullmetal Alchemist | Roy x Edward | M)

Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.

A Fic You’ve Gushed About IRL:

Designation: Miracle by umisabaku (Kuroko no Basket | M)

It's been three years since seven human experiments, called "Miracles," escaped Teiko Industries, alerting the world to the presence of super-powered children. Now they're finally integrating into society-- going to normal high schools, playing basketball, falling in love-- and trying to find out if it's possible to truly escape their past.

A Fic You Associate With A Place (have to self-rec for this one):

Safe Harbour by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles x Chris | T)

Peter didn't think he'd find a home here. He certainly didn't think he'd find a home with two other men.

Chris and Stiles prove him wrong.

A Fic That Made You Gasp Out Loud (kind of? it was suspenseful):

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

A Fic You Found At The Right Time:

slow increments by Areiton (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles)

Peter is enigmatic, egotistical, sometimes barely sane. He's sharp and cutting and takes more time to care for the pack than anyone.And sometimes, John catches him watching Stiles.

A Fic That You Would Read Fic Of:

if you try to break me, you will bleed by Dialux (Game of Thrones | Jon x Sansa | T)

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

A Fic That Made You Laugh Out Loud:

The Path towards Unwilling Godhood by Sky_King (Bleach | Kisuke x Ichigo | G)

Ichigo has never had the most normal life, and this latest chapter of it is no different.

"I'm not a god!"

A Fic With A Line (Or Two) That You’ve Memorized By Heart:

Atlas by distractedKat (Star Trek | Spock x Jim | T)

Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning.

A Fic That Gave You Butterflies:

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

A Fic That Embodies Something You Value In Life:

The Boy Sleuth by Shey (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is eight when he discovers a box of his mom’s old Nancy Drew Mysteries in the back of the guest bedroom closet.

A Favourite AU:

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

A Fic You Stayed Up Too Late To Finish Reading:

Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves by ISeeFire (The Hobbit | Fem!Bilbo x Fili | T)

Bilba has been a slave her entire life. All she knows of the outside world is what she sees from time to time outside the gates of Moria and the stories her mother used to tell her. Stories of a place called the Shire where her mother once lived and a placed called Erebor where, as far as she knows, her father still lives. Stories of dragons a thousand times larger, and more intelligent, than the beasts the orcs rode and of a strange concept called freedom where one was allowed to live as they wished with no one to tell them what they could, or could not do.

The stories meant little to Bilba. The only future she had was to live, and die, as a slave as countless number had before her.

And then the orcs dragged an injured female firedrake through the gates, her rider screaming obscenities behind her as he fought to reach her side...and everything changed.

A Fic That Made You Feel Seen (another self-rec lol):

i am addicted to death (so remind me what it’s like to live) by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is sixteen years old. He has already died seventy-eight times.

[anotherhamiltonblog]

I Love You.

Daveed Diggs x Reader one shot

thank you @ryjo-92​ for the request!!! From the  Domesticity Prompts list ( here )  #27:  I love yous whispered in the dark

Word count: 988 Warnings: cute and fluff? talk of sex? reader gets marked up *le smirk*

Enjoy!

To say that Y/N missed Daveed was an understatement. She missed everything about her boyfriend. His smile, his laugh, the way he was always writing out new lyrics on any little piece of paper. His Oakland shirts always around the bedroom and his sneakers messily tossed by the doorway after a long day. There wasn’t anything she didn’t miss about him. But mostly? She missed him.

The nights seemed longer; the days shorter. The few text messages here and there did nothing but bring a small smile to her face. He traveled for his filming and his tour and shows while Y/N stayed back in New York working for the Broadway production of The Phantom of the Opera. Playing the lead Christine Daae, Y/N was more than happy with her accomplishment.

But she got through the preparing and training and so many dress rehearsals. Finally opening night came and to say that Y/N was nervous? Well… she was pretty sure she could throw up at any given moment.

With Daveed on the other side of the country in L.A, Y/N had hype herself up for the show.

But as each number, each dance and each song passed, Y/N became more comfortable and soon enough she was giving it her all on stage. By the end of the first night, they all lined up and did a small bow. Y/N crying as a bouquet of red roses and once it was finally done. Y/N got out of her costume and makeup. Pulling on her regular clothes.

Only when a knock came to her door, she sighed and sat back on the couch. “Come in!” she called out and thought it might be her friend who played as Meg.

With eyes closed, Y/N heard the door open and she let out a scream when a hand touched her. Opening her eyes, Y/N let out a happy shriek at the sight of her boyfriend there before her.

“You think I was about to miss my girls opening night?” he raised an eyebrow and a fond smile on his face. Pulling her up, Daveed wrapped his arms around Y/N and hugged her tightly. “I’m so proud of you, short cake. You did amazing.” He whispered onto her skin.

“I can’t believe you’re here…” Y/N cried as she hugged him. Face pressed into his chest as they stood there.

“Y/N! Did you get your present!” her friends voice called from the other side of the door and Y/N let out a giggle.

“Yes! And we won’t be going out with everyone tonight! Sorry!” she called out and went to grab her things while Daveed grabbed his own bags. “Did you come here straight from the airport?” she asked shocked and watched as he nodded and shrugged.

“It was that, or miss our part of your show, babe.” He threw an arm around her waist and they walked out of her dressing room. Roses in her hands to take him and bag over her shoulder.

Walking out of the theater and saying many hellos to the fans, who were lucky to see both Y/N and Daveed. They soon were allowed to leave and got a cab to their brownstone home. Y/N cuddling with Daveed the whole ride, listening to him talk about his touring and the filming of Snowpiercer.

By the time they got home, had a late dinner together. They were attached at the lips. Y/N holding onto Daveed as if he would disappear from her fingertips. Clothes were soon thrown on the floor and the two fell into bed together. Showing just how much they missed the other. Hands, lips and body connected as one. Y/N couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend the night.

Seeing it was nearing 3 o’clock in the morning. Y/N glanced at Daveed, fingertip softly tracing circles on his chest. Playing with the few hairs there, “I love you, Daveed…” she whispered, watching as his eyes opened and he smiled down at her.

“I love you more, princess…” he said back and the two just laid there sharing soft and sweet kisses. Words of love passed between the two, Y/N falling asleep with a smile on her face.

By the next morning, Y/N woke up to the smell of food and coffee. Opening her eyes, she giggled and saw Daveed walk into the room with a tray.

“I thought you were going to sleep all day.” He teased Y/N as he set the tray down and she just pouted. “Well excuse me, I had a show last night and someone kept me up until Three AM.” She stuck her tongue out and pulled Daveed to lay down in the bed with her.

Spending the next hour drinking the coffee, feeding each other. Both Daveed and Y/N spent the rest of the day in bed. Mostly spent under the covers. Only getting out of bed to shower together. Only the shower ended up being an hour long as the two got distracted with one another.

By the time Y/N had to head to the theater that night, her body was marked over her stomach, thighs and around her breasts.

“Babe... are you ok?” Daveed asked as they entered the theater. Earning a glare from the girl.

“I hate you…” she mumbled, and they walked to her dressing room. There the ladies who helped her shook their head. “Don’t blame me! It was all him!” she crossed her arms over her chest as she was in her bra and underwear to put on the dress for the show.

Laughing, Daveed kept his eyes on his phone. “Please, like you didn’t leave your own mark on me.” He said back and Y/N laughed.

The two gave each other a small smile and Y/N went back to getting ready. Feeling glad to have her man home for a few days.