#the phantom of the opera fanfiction

[drmaddict]

Don't say it!

Summary: Giry catches Erik and (Y/n) in an extremely intimate situation. Erik would like to sink into the ground. (Y/n) doesn't understand the drama.

Word count: 329

Author's note: I wrote this in ten minutes. Just fluff. Have fun.

"Erik come out. Please!"

"No!", he shouted through the bathroom door.

She sighed. "Nothing's happened," she tried again.

"Nothing happened? She saw us!"

"It was only Giry. She brought me to you. I think she knows we're not just drinking tea and talking."

"She didn't have my permission to come down here!", he nagged.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "And she apologised profusely. She'll never do it again." She reached for the doorknob. "Open up now. Please."

"No.", his voice rang out. Defiant, like that of a little boy.

"Erik, we were just-"

The door was pulled open with a jerk. "Don't say it!" His eyes looked at her with determination. His hair was still sticking up a little from his head. Only his mask had found its place again. An anchor when he felt insecure.

"It's perfectly normal for couples to do this.", she tried to reassure him.

"It's too..."

"Too what?"

"Too human." he concluded, his face screwed up in disgust.

She raised an eyebrow. "My angel, you are human."

He just shook his head and pushed past her. "I am the phantom. The angel of the night. I can't be human."

She probably sighed for the tenth time in the last five minutes. Her diva as he lives and breathes.

He walked briskly to his organ and dropped onto the stool. His slender fingers rested on the keys, but didn't press a single one. They only felt the wood. Created a connection to ground him. "You make me weak.", he concluded.

She rolled her eyes. She placed her hands on his face. One felt the warm skin, the other the cool porcelain of the mask. "I understand you're uncomfortable with all this, but it's not like she saw us sleeping with each other." She ran her thumb reassuringly over his cheek.

"I would have preferred that."

She rolled her eyes. "Erik! We were just cuddling!"

He looked at her as if he'd bitten into a lemon.

(Gif is not mine)

[dreamingofep]

Returning to Your Angel🥀

A Phantom of the Opera!Elvis fic

Prompt: After fleeing the Opera House unexpectedly five years ago, you're back hoping to start a new chapter. But your undeniable attraction to the Phantom makes your life more complicated than you hoped.

TW: Tension!!!

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hi everyone! I can't wait another moment to keep this fic from you all! I'm so excited for you all to read this and hope you love it as much as I do. For those of you new to my blog, I'm sure you can tell I have a love for Elvis and thought he'd be a great Phantom🤭 Picture whoever you want in this role but he's who I had in my head while I wrote this. Feel free to let me know if you want me to add you to my taglist for this fic!

♱

Paris, 1881

The gust of the cool fall air made your skin prickle as you stood on the steps of the Opera Populaire. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You were nervous to be back here. It had been five years since you last took steps into this building. So much transpired to make you leave. You always considered it your home and didn’t want to leave right away, but you thought it would be a good idea to start a new chapter and get away from this place… at least for a little while. 

You danced on beautiful stages in London during this time, but something about the Opera House’s stage called you. You needed to be back in this beautiful place. Not only did you know you would be welcomed back, you were truly missed. No one wanted you to go and it was a painful decision to leave the life you made here. You had lived here with the other ballerinas since you were twelve and in a way, it was the only home you had left. You didn’t have any other family anymore and here you were at twenty-one, running back to the only home you had left.

You shakily pull the heavy door and walk inside the grand entrance. Your boots clicked on the polished marble floor and dozens of candelabras lit the whole room. It was more breathtaking than you remembered. Every inch of this place sparkled and made it feel like you were walking through a palace. You take your time walking in, absorbing every detail, and see nothing has changed since the last time you were here. But then, you freeze in your tracks. The grand staircase was lined with roses on the stair’s rails, vined like ivy through the banister.

He couldn’t have possibly known you were coming back, did he? No, it’s impossible. The only person who knew was Madame Giry, the head ballet teacher. You made her promise to not tell a soul, and that included him. You were just being paranoid and needed to calm down. You couldn’t lose your head like this. Not again. 

You see a single red rose on the first step of the staircase. You look around and see no one in sight. Your heart can’t help but gallop at the sight and know it’s meant for you. It was a strange coincidence if it wasn’t. You set your two suitcases down and pick up the rose. Oh, it smelled so sweet and fragrant. The shade was an impossibly deep crimson and only a certain kind you’ve seen here in the Opera House. You would receive dozens of these after a great performance in your dressing room. The smell of them would never leave your senses. 

Your fingers lightly spin the rose back and forth between your thumb and index finger and watch the petals expand, making it look more full and illustrious. You suddenly wince when a thorn in the stem pricks your finger, making the faintest cut there where blood pebbles out from. You quickly bring it to your mouth and suck on it, stopping the bleeding. You feel foolish. It hasn’t been more than five minutes and you’re causing a mess for yourself. 

You tuck the stem of the rose into your bag and make your way to the office where Madame Giry will be waiting for you. It didn’t take you long to remember where her office was. It was down the hall of the entryway to the theater and had the letter G on the door. You quietly knock on the door, waiting for her to let you in. 

“Come in,” you hear her say solemnly. 

You twist the doorknob and walk into the low-lit office. Books lined the walls and in the corner was her desk, papers sprawled across it. She gives you a warm smile and quickly gets up from her chair, clasping her hands together at her chest. She wore a black bustled dress that had a high neckline and her hair was perfectly tied back in a bun. 

“Oh Christine, it is just marvelous to see you,” she says gleefully. You set your bags down on the floor and she hugs you tightly. She had so much compassion and love when she hugged you. You viewed her as a motherly figure because of how sincere she always was toward you. 

“It’s been too long. How have you been?” You ask. 

“Well. It’s great to have you back, it hasn’t been the same since you left,” she says. 

“I’ve missed this place, there’s no other stage like it.”

She glances at your bags on the floor and pauses when she sees the rose sticking out of your bag. You look at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something about it. 

“I take it you found his welcome present,” she says low, almost like a whisper. 

Your heart sinks, hating that your instincts were right from the moment you saw it. You can’t help but be a bit frustrated with her response. You specifically told her not to tell anyone! And that meant him too. 

“You told him?” You say flatly, making sure to keep your voice low. 

She takes a step back from you, seeing how upset you’re becoming. 

“No, I didn’t. But you know he has his ways. This is his Opera House, he knows everything that happens in these walls whether we want him to know or not.” 

You tried to remain calm but you couldn’t help but grow angry. You wanted to keep your distance from him as much as it was possible. You knew it was going to be hard, but you didn’t want him to infiltrate your life again. It was overwhelming.

“I don’t want to see him,” you say looking at the rose, trying to hide how much this is making you upset. 

“I’m afraid that’s not up to you my dear. You know he has his ways. Not even I can denounce his wishes,” she says solemnly. 

You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, hating how this is your welcome in the first ten minutes of being here. 

“I came here to dance, not be his little puppet,” you say through your teeth. 

Her eyes grow shocked and quickly covers your mouth with her hand. She looks up to the ceiling fearful, holding her breath and staring back at you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. 

“Don’t you dare speak of your Angel that way. His wrath would reign over all of us if you disobey him.”

Thanks for reminding me, you think begrudgingly. 

You pull her hand off of your face and step back. 

“I’m not a fool, I know this place is his. I’m here to perform for the people. I must make that clear.” You pick up your bags and are ready to be done with this conversation. Everything else said would only make you more upset. 

“When is rehearsal?”

Her lips form into a straight line, clearly not pleased with your attitude. 

“7 am. Do not be late.”

*

You shortly arrived to the dormitories and you have one of the few rooms to yourself. You secretly wanted to share a room and be with the other ballerinas but Madame Giry gave you the small room to yourself until someone else came along to share the bedroom with you. You didn’t want the special treatment. It could cause drama with the others and that was the last thing you needed. 

The room was small and colorless. There was only space for two small beds and a nightstand that had three drawers. A small window was above your bed that was level to the street. It was getting late so hardly anyone was walking the streets. You unpacked your bags and tried to make yourself at home. It was hard though. You remembered how you felt when you first came here over ten years ago. The fear of being in a new place terrified you. You have similar feelings this time too. 

The sight of the dozens of roses as you walked in jarred you and the fact that no one told him you were coming scared you to bits. How did he know? You were terrified that he somehow was more powerful than the last time you saw him. It was something you didn’t understand. How could one man yield such power? You didn’t want to be fearful of him. He was just a man. But he was a man that brought out a different side of you. 

He taught you how to use your voice and get better every time you would visit him. This granted you new roles in productions here at the Opera House. You had always been the shy, quiet, ballerina when you first got here but the more time you spent with him, the more fearless you felt. The more confident you became. 

But now you were back at the beginning. You were fearful. Fearful of seeing him. You left this place without warning and you could not imagine the anger that he felt. You get underneath the blankets and pull them all the way to your chin. You try to expel that thought out of your mind and close your eyes. You had to get some sleep. You wanted to get to rehearsals early and make a good first impression. There were a lot of girls you hadn’t met before and you hoped it would be a smooth transition. 

You must have tossed and turned for hours. A cold sweat formed on your temples even though you were shivering on this cold January night. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt this force over you, like a shadow watching you sleep. You knew it was all in your head but you couldn’t shake it. You even left your lantern on to illuminate the dark room.  This dark feeling wouldn’t escape you and before you knew it, the sunlight started to creep in and that dark, claustrophobic feeling left you. You finally closed your eyes and got the most minuscule amount of sleep before rehearsals. 

* 

You felt a bit rusty. Your turns weren’t clean and you couldn’t find any balance. It probably didn’t help that you were sleep-deprived. You tried to snap yourself out of the haze you found yourself in. Madame Giry was tough on you, reprimanding you over the slightest mistake you made. You knew she was still upset about your conversation yesterday but she also knew you were better than this. Making silly mistakes wasn’t like you. 

You tried to mingle with the other girls but it was hard. They heard about you and how you got leading roles. It was jealousy that tainted the first impression of you but you couldn’t let it shake you. It would be nice to make friends again here but you came to dance. That was what made you happiest of all. 

A familiar face brightened your day as you were about to leave for the day. It was Raoul, dressed in tails and a black top hat. He looked so dapper and it was so nice to see him. He was another person you didn’t say a proper goodbye to before you left. You’ve always considered him your childhood sweetheart. It was more flirtatious than anything. You always thought he was good looking and he was always there for you in hard times. 

“Raoul!” You say excitedly. His face lights up when he sees you. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly. 

“Oh my gosh do my eyes deceive me?! You’re back! You’re really back!”

“Yes! I was homesick and just had to come back!”

“It’s so great to see you Christine, I really missed you.”

“Me too, I’m sorry I left so suddenly last time,” you say timidly. 

“It’s okay. I’m sure you had a good reason for it,” he tells you. 

“Yes, I had an opportunity I just couldn’t pass,” you lie. 

“That’s wonderful, you’re so talented, don’t confine yourself to one place,” he says with a smile, “I’d love to get dinner with you sometime and catch up, please let me know when you’re free.”

“Of course, I’m sure I’ll see you around,” you say cutely. 

He gives you another hug and kisses the top of your head, making your heart flutter. 

After a long day of rehearsing, you finally got to go back to your room to rest after dinner. Your legs ached a bit and knew you needed to try to get more sleep tonight. You changed into your white nightgown that had ruffles at the swooping neckline. You quickly got under the blankets and tried to warm yourself up. 

You once again found yourself tossing and turning, unable to stop your mind from wandering. You grew frustrated as time ticked by slowly. The clock read 1 am and you were wide awake. There was this nagging feeling pulling you out of bed, not letting your body relax or be content. You decided to get out of bed and take a walk to clear your mind. You put a robe on over your nightgown and pick up your lantern. 

The barren halls were eerie and unsettling at this time of night. Something about the stillness made you on edge. You kept walking, trying to clear your mind and stay at peace. You knew this place so well, you were sure you could walk it with your eyes closed. You then stop in your tracks as you approach the end of the hall. 

Chills run up your spine as you stand before the dressing room door. You had been in there countless times after performances and if you were lucky enough, he would visit you. Those memories came back to you so vividly and yet they were so long ago. So much changed between now and the last time you visited him. 

As much as you had some bitter feelings towards him, you still had this soft spot for him. You wondered if he had some animosity towards you for leaving so suddenly. It scared you, to be frank. You had seen how he would get when things didn’t go his way…

Your hand trembles as it reaches for the ornate door knob. It was unlocked and the hinges made a small groaning squeak when you opened it wide enough for you to fit through. You quickly glance behind you to make sure no one is around and close the door behind you. You press your back to the door and your eyes frantically try to see what is in the room. You lift your lantern up higher and your breath gets sucked out of you. 

The whole room was filled with roses. Dark red ones. The scent of them made your senses come alive and almost feel like you were entranced. You walk further into the room and see the large gold-framed mirror in front of you. It made you look so small in comparison to the tall mirror. You look around one more time, seeing if there is anyone else in here. 

“Hello?” You whisper. 

No answer. Only the sound of the wind creaked through the windows. Your heart pounds in anticipation, knowing you have to face your fears sooner than later. 

“Angel, are you there?” Your voice trembles. 

No response. 

You place your lantern on the vanity table and wait for any sign he’s there listening. Only the sound of darkness is heard and it’s surrounding you completely. Your breathing quickens and you can’t calm yourself down. Maybe he doesn’t want to see you. You hurt him too much and he doesn’t want to see you after all. 

Your body feels torpid and you drop to your knees. You pant for breath and bring your hands together, clasping them at your chest. You look at the mirror, fear encapsulating your mind. 

“My Angel of Music, speak to me. I’m here,” you tremble. 

You wait for any sign and you feel it. There was this dark affection that would come over you when he was near, suffocating yet breathed life into you. 

You close your eyes and struggle for breath, trying to speak to him more. 

“My Angel, come to me. Please, I’m right here. I want you to come to me,” you plead. 

Your eyes flutter open and see his dark reflection in the mirror. He was wearing all black with a high-collared jacket and cape. It was so dark beyond the mirror that all you could perfectly see was his white porcelain mask. Those eyes burned into you there kneeling on the floor, making your heart fly out of your chest. 

“Angel,” you breathe.

“Come to me,” his voice booms in the quiet.  

You get up off your knees and slowly walk to him, so entranced to be in his presence again. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He stood there perfectly still and the mirror slides open. His leather-gloved hand reaches out to you and you glance down at it, knowing if you take his hand, your world will change once again. There was no turning back. 

You meet his serious eyes and get lost in them. Your fingers wrap around his hand and you step over the mirror’s frame. A smile flashes across his face as he squeezes your hand tighter. 

“Oh my sweet, you’ve come back to me,” he breathes. He places a kiss on the back of your hand, sending chills through your whole body. You forgot how those plush lips felt on your skin. It was obsessional. 

He pulls you further down the stone hallway and into his lair. He walked slowly, never taking his eyes off of you. You couldn’t either. Being in his presence was the most intoxicating feeling on this earth. You forgot how cold it was the further you two descended to the lake. Lanterns on the wall illuminated as you two walked down the stone hallway, making the darkness now glow golden. This made it easier to see his face and the way he was looking at you. 

He helps you get in a boat that is lined with lavish pillows and a blanket. You sat at the very front of it, wrapping the soft blanket around your body. You glance behind at him, completely enamored by his beauty. The further you trek across the lake, the more candles on the walls flicker with flame and give a soft glow to the darkness that surrounds you. 

Candelabras emerge from the lake, lighting as soon as the candle wicks touch the air. It fascinated you how he made that possible. The whole lair glowed with soft light and made you feel warm and safe. 

He stops the boat gently at the shore of the lake and gets out first, offering his hand out to you to help you get out. You let the blanket fall off your body and step in front of him. You couldn’t believe you were back here and your words ran dry looking at him. 

His jet-black hair was slicked back and gleamed in the light. His skin was perfectly smooth and pale, not a flaw on him. He looked the same as the last time you saw him or somehow more gorgeous you think. You can’t help but look up at him in awe.

“You haven’t changed a bit, you’re still the same,” you whisper. You fought the way you wanted to reach up to his face and see what his perfect skin felt like. He nods his head and smiles down at you, taking in a laborious breath before speaking. 

“And you have only grown more beautiful my Angel,” he says low. Lord, that voice of his makes you crumble. He didn’t have to say anything in particular, just the way he sounded drew you in. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, blushing looking away from him. 

He leads you further into his lair where there is a red sofa and other chairs around a table. He invites you to sit down while he stays standing. He still drinks you in with his eyes and stays silent. 

“You’ve let your hair grow out longer,” he observes. 

You flash your eyes up at him and nod your head. 

“Yes, I know that’s how you like it.” You press your lips together when you realize what you said out loud. Something about being so close to him has your thoughts come out so easily without any hesitation. 

He gives you a smirk, liking what he just heard. 

“Yes, I do like it. It looks beautiful like this,” he coos. You try not to let his words phase you but it’s almost impossible to. You longed to hear his beautiful praise. 

He sits down next to you, leaving only inches between you two. You can hear him make a sharp breath as he tries to find the right words. He raises his hand and brushes your curly locks off your shoulder, making you shiver. 

“Why did you leave me Angel?” He asks, his voice soft and tender. You weren’t expecting him to be so gentle about it. You thought he would still be upset over your sudden disappearance.

It feels like your heart just got ripped out of you when you look at him. His eyes were so full of pain and you didn’t know what to say that would fix that. 

“I had to go… it was time to move on from this place,” you say lightly. 

He picks up your hand and holds it on your lap. You never wanted to leave this moment. You wished you could be like this forever with him. 

“That breaks my heart to hear,” he sighs. 

“I know, it hurt me too, trust me. I felt awful. You were always on my mind…I-, I dreamed of you all the time,” you whisper. 

He pauses, smirking when he looks at you, “I know. I did too. That beautiful voice of yours echoed in my head every time I closed my eyes,” he confesses caressing your face gently. 

You couldn’t help but give into this force that was a part of him. He attracted you to a molecular level. No matter how dangerous people said he was, you wanted to get closer and closer to him. Your eyes trail over his face, unable to believe he would dare hide half of his face when he is so strikingly beautiful. His luring eyes gleamed a deep blue in this light and those full lips were begging to be kissed. You dreamed of what it would be like to be kissed by him...

You lean in ever so slightly, taking a sharp breath in. He looks at your lips and licks his bottom lip ever so slightly. 

“What are you looking at my dear?” He murmurs. 

“Just you, I’ve missed your beauty,” you say quietly. 

He smiles and places your hand on his lips, sighing softly when he looks back at you. 

“Oh you’re too kind to me,” he says as he places his gloved hand on your cheek. You lean into his touch and want him closer, so much closer. He does lean in and you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear. Your skin prickles and you can’t help but breathe in sharply. His hand that was on your cheek then slides down to the crook of your neck and rests there.

“Sing for me, my Angel. Let me hear that beautiful voice again…” he says low, his deep tenor voice making your whole body feel aflame. A breathy whine emits from your throat unwillingly and put your hand around his wrist. This felt like a dream, too good to be true being this close to him.

You slowly pull your head away to look at him and those serious eyes make you come unraveled. They were so intense and you swore they could look into your soul. So you nod your head at him and stand before him, letting his hand graze against the front of your body. His gaze doesn’t falter and he continues to look at you from your nose down to your slippers, taking his time looking at every inch. You swear he makes a groaning sound deep in his throat but he clears it, pointing to the direction of the piano.

“Go to the piano,” he instructs.

You slowly turn and go further up the lair. There were more candles around the piano and a few loose sheets of music hewas writing earlier resting on music stands. The air gets sucked out of your lungs when you feel him behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to see how close he was. It was a sensation you couldn’t quite describe and one you didn’t get from anyone else. Only he could make you feel like this…

You feel his hands wrap around your waist slowly and you feel yourself sink into his tall frame. You couldn’t think straight when he touched you. He’s done this before so many years ago and you felt like you could faint. You feel his shaky breath along your neck and you let your head fall back against his chest. 

“Help me make the music of the night… please…Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light… And listen to the music of the night,” he hums in your ear.

You bring your hands up to rest on his on your body and relish in his touch.

“Yes, I’ll listen. I’ll sing for you, my Angel” you sigh. He slowly turns you around to look at him. His lips form a sly smirk and he looks at your lips once again.

“Oh darling… it’s so good to have you back.”

♱

🥀

Tagging:

@loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley@chasingwildflowers

@dontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101@austinsmutler@kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen @eapep @ladelinee @iloveelvisss @ccab @buglass @its2amlol @peaceloveelvis @theycametoconquertheearth53

[pretty-little-mind33]

Friedrich Harding x fem!reader & Thomas Hutter x fem!reader

Mini-Series Summary: Paris 1889. You're just starting as the new Étoile at the Palais Garnier Opéra. Everything is going smoothly until your sponsor, the mysterious man who haunts box number 5, makes himself known.

Warnings: stalker-ish behavior, obsessiveness, sexual themes (no smut), murders, hauntings, corruption, kinda romanticizing the original story (although it's quite different)

Masterlist

ONE: Red Rose

TWO: In The Shadows

THREE: The Phantom

[ineffablekink]

Nothing beats the “forced intimacy because one of them is hurt” trope in fanfics. Nothing. Ya hear me? I will lap it all up like the pathetic hungry bitch I am.

She has a broken finger and cannot get out of her corset? Of course the dark and mysterious man will die of embarrassment and lust while helping her (I’m looking at you @wheel-of-fish )

He has a broken rib and cannot shower? Of course his lumberjack friend will help him, but he will be oddly blushing and clumsy in the process (I’m looking at you @summerofspock )

I hoard these moments like small treasures and they bring me so. Much. Joy.

[acalanthe]

A bit of Christine in SDoB, and Erik of course (chapter 11 and something that never happens)

Admire Erik's No-nose

[urcatslitterbox]

Spencer Reid + Phantom of The Opera

That’s all I have to say.

[angel-with-paper-wings]

Live As You’ve Never Lived Before

“The sound of her sobs echoed through the silence, carrying through the thin walls to the hollow space beyond. Her voice and all its sorrow was heard, but not by an angel. That night, while the rest of Paris celebrated, two souls broken by the world wept together.”

Description: A retelling of the classic tale in which Christine and the Phantom end up together, but it works. Original work but with elements of Leroux, Kay, ALW, and 2004 movie blended in.

Read here on AO3

Special thanks to @erik-carierre for the WONDERFUL cover!!! Please check out their blog if you haven’t already!

[elfwoodfae]

I saw your request for Erik writing ideas, and I was wondering if you could do smut headcannons with Erik being a sub for afab!reader? Please and thank you!

NSFW MDNI

This is a long shot, and alas I haven’t written in ages but here we go.

I love the idea of Erik being very submissive when it comes to intimacy, more so in the bedroom.

All that cockiness he portrays is gone when the doors are closed. Always fearing that once you see him unclothed, without his mask that you will everytime regret and realize what a monster he thinks he is.

He doesn’t feel capable of taking control and guiding you through, he is more than willing to give that up, let you show him how it’s done, how touches and kisses can Ignite the hottest of passions in his blood.

He loves being under you, his big hands on your waist, holding you, grounding him, letting you take the pace, letting you push yourself on his chest as his head is throw back. Your lips caressing his neck and telling him how good he is, how much you need him.

He also loves being on top, having your leg over his hip, his face hiding in your neck as his lips open in pants against your skin, one of his hands in your hair and the other on the pillow but your voice is the one guiding him, setting the pace, your nails in his back and your hand on his hair keeping him there. Always letting him know how much you love the mess he becomes, how he melts at your touch, how good he is to you, how good he makes you feel.

[purrlockswatson]

How's the writing going, you say?

I was typing out my novel on my phone, looked up, and saw this. To clarify, I meant satin-LINED cavity, describing a casket.

Well, I hit my head on a toilet water tank today, so I can't expect myself to act rationally.

The story is about a vampire opera house. I played with the idea of adding Erik into it, but I didn't expect him to pop up out of nowhere to give one of my characters a house tour.

I think he wants to kill the vampires now, and I don't know what to do. How little control I actually have over my writing never fails to surprise me.

(More gremlin sphynx cat Erik here, fancy hat cowboy Phantom here)

[ask-phantom-erik]

Erik reading fanfiction of him and christine, and the daroga caught him off guard

Sorry for taking so long to get to this, life be crazy hehe

He’s just a silly little man scrolling through AO3

[luneemeritus]

Thinking about an angsty, maybe-or-not one-sided Leroux!Eristine scenario.... maybe in the two weeks she spent with him after the unsmasking.

Erik watches her while she is sitting on the sofa, peacefully reading a book. He is so in love with her. He would do anything and everything for her... his love is so strong, fearsome, passionate, desperate and painful. She is the most beautiful thing in the world and she means everything to him. He doesn't even know how he was able to live before he met her. Anyone could read all of his maddening and fantastical obsession just by looking at his eyes, specially Christine – yes, she was a fast learner. She learned how to read Erik precisely. Did that scare him? Maybe a little.

Erik quietly comes to sit beside her. He didn't want to disturb her reading, but at the same time, he couldn't help...

He sighs deeply, almost hypnotized by the bare sight of her. "Did I ever tell you that I love you, Christine?"

Christine doesn't change her neutral expression nor loses her foccus in her book. Her breathing, though, changed. Became faster, deeper. Erik couldn't tell if this was positive or negative, he couldn't tell if she was happy to be near to him, hearing his voice and his confession, or if she was uncomfortable. The second option was more likely, but he prayed that it was the first.

"Erik, you say this everyday." She said calmly, in her typical sweet, gentle voice.

Erik relaxes his body in the sofa, laying his head down and closer to her shoulder. It was a bit uncomfortable due to his sitting position, but his love for Christine was greater than a mere nuisance – plus, he already slept in that position before, nothing new. Maybe, now that he was so close and more vulnerable than ever before, he could... he could reach out... he could change things between them.

"Yeah, I know... It's just that... you never said it back." He said that breathly, almost whispering it, but Christine surely heard loud and clear. "Can you? Say it back?"

Christine doesn't respond. She doesn't even face him. The longest those silent seconds lasted, the more the pain in his chest grew. He was waiting for her to answer him, to look at him, or even to just reject him right away. Anything, anything, so his heart wouldn't agressively scratch his mind and his body with the pain of doubt. The pain that has been keeping him awake at night, tormenting him during the day, since when he brought her underground. Until Christine finally moves – she closed the book, sighed tiredly, and stood up. She was heading back to her room, never once looking at Erik's eyes.

"I see..." Erik said to himself, even though she could hear him.

Erik remained in the sofa and closed his eyes. He layed his body down, now getting more comfortable as he found his head exactly where Christine was sitting seconds ago. He could feel the ghost of her warmth like that, feel her wonderful smell, and he concluded that was the only way he could feel her. That was the closest he could ever get to her. Lost in his miserable howls, Erik didn't see when Christine hesitated to enter her room nor when she looked back at him, with tears in her brightful blue eyes. Instead, he only heard the door of her room closing, and a torturous silence consumed the room.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

König is my sweet little baby and I love him dearly. Enjoy some more Phantom of the Opera!König as he watches reader. He's a bit creepy, but he's also my little creepy baby. Also, this story has a very different interpretation of Carlotta. I thought it might be nice to have women supporting women this time. Or well, one woman being a support. Anna, who you have yet to meet, is not so nice at all.

Also, König learns he has competition! He's not too happy about that.

Anyways,

No Content Warnings

Wordcount: 2.4k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

You looked up in the balconies of the opera house expectantly. You tried to see if he was there. Maybe, if you were lucky, you might see a flap of his cape or a glimpse of the crimson ribbons of his mask. You desperately searched but, as always, it was to no avail.

You turned back to the stage where the primadonna was on center stage. She flicked her long blond tresses over her shoulder as she reached out to the audience, serenading them with her warbling soprano voice. You were drawn into the siren’s song, listening to each staccato note followed by a sweeping drop, each rise and fall of her tone as she sang out the tune to The Magic Flute. She attacked, she defended, she swooped and she swelled with the song as she traversed across the stage.

You smiled softly. You would never be like Carlotta, not in a thousand years. She was leagues above anyone in the house, hands down. Men traveled halfway across the world to bear witness to her voice and her visage. By the final notes of the song, the stage had been outlined with a row of roses, each bouquet from a different suitor fighting for her hand. Carlotta’s voice masterfully lulled each one of them into an enchanted hypnotic state. You followed her movements, trying your best to memorize each and every single flick of her fingers or swoop of her wine red dress as she sang out to the crowds. In that moment, Carlotta had placed the dagger in your hands and sang to you of rage, hatred, scorn. You, Pamina, watched as your mother told you her plans and urged you to slay the sorcerer. You watched her, her passion and beauty overwhelming as she came to a crescendo of the song, the make-or-break of the piece, the part that broke many a singer’s voice before.

Carlotta’s face was clear and relaxed as she hit the high notes, a beautiful crystal clear attack, receding briefly only to sharply hit it again and again before swaying onwards. One of the most brilliantly technical pieces of opera written for a soprano, and yet Carlotta seemed to be floating as she swept across the stage. She was above it all as she magically twisted the song to her delight.

As always, you were floored.

Carlotta was the greatest opera singer to ever come from the British Isles. At least, that was your opinion. The true beauty of Carlotta though was not her voice, nor was it her impeccable diamond-cut beauty. The beauty of Carlotta was her loving eye. She looked into the crowd and you could see her love for them in every smile she gave them. She was the queen of the stage and you would never dare to steal her title. As always, she looked at home here, presented for thousands to admire. She was the songbird of the Vienna State Opera, but this building was her cage.

When she had finished, she left the stage with tears in her eyes. You immediately took her in her arms and hushed her.

“I don’t want it to be over,” she sniffed as she held you tight.

“We’ll still keep in touch,” you assorted her.

“We both know it’s not the same,” she held you tightly, then released you back to the darkness of the workshop.

“We can message each other online,” you tried to explain but she wasn’t having it.

“I won’t be able to teach you anymore,” she bemoaned, “and then you won’t have anyone to help you with Anna.”

“I don’t need help with Anna,” you huffed.

Carlotta gave you a look, “Darling, we both know that’s a lie.”

You frowned, but followed her back to the dressing rooms. You flipped on a single light, keeping the room only barely lit enough to be able to see yourself in the mirror. Meanwhile, Carlotta sat at her vanity and flicked on the lights to get a better look at her own beauty. You watched her slowly wipe off the theater makeup while she sat at her vanity. She drummed her fingers on her cheeks in a light massage as she cooled down from the performance.

“So, do you know what you’ll do when you get home?” you leaned on the wall beside the vanity.

“Go to my parents probably,” Carlotta said as she put a dab of skin lotion on her fingers, “they’ve missed me. I’ve missed this little cafe in London that makes the best butter tarts. I hope they’re still open…”

“If they make the best butter tarts, why wouldn’t they be?” you asked.

“Everything goes too fast in London. One day you see a new hat shop, the next day it’s a tourist trap. There’s never a dry day in London!” Carlotta gave you a quick grin before dabbing at her temples again, “and I miss it. Vienna is nice, but it’s not home.”

“I thought you said Madrid was your home,” you pointed out.

“I was born in Madrid but I was raised in London,” Carlotta explained, “I moved there when I was eight. I only visited Spain when going to see my family, but other than that I was at home in London.”

“You know, you’re the only english woman I’ve ever heard be nostalgic about London,” you mused, “everybody else calls it a tar pit.”

“Oh it’s a tar pit alright,” Carlotta laughed, “but it’s my tar pit.”

You smiled as she went through the rest of her routine, unwinding her hair from its high knot and gently sloughing the great billowing red dress to change into a sleek pair of leggings and a turtleneck. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulders, casting you a sad look as she watched you take off your own clothes.

“I don’t have much longer to teach you,” she sighed.

“Well, it’s not like I need the teaching,” you pointed out, “I’m not your protege. I’m just a backup singer.”

“But you have the voice for a lead,” Carlotta countered, “you have it! Oh stop laughing, I’m serious! You can do it! Anna can do it, but she’s not a natural. You are.”

“I can’t handle that much pressure,” you sighed.

“But you can!” Carlotta sighed, “I just… I wish I could take you home with me. I could train you, give you a position at the RBO, we could do it! You could be a star!”

You shook your head sadly, “I’m not a star though. I’m lucky I even got my parts here.”

Carlotta clenched her lily-white fists in her lap. Her big wide eyes narrowed into feline slits. She looked angry, frustrated, but most of all, disappointed as she whispered, “You don’t know what you’re throwing away, do you?”

“I just know that it's best if I stick to my own lanes,” you grumbled.

Carlotta’s eyes never left you as she pursed her cherry red lips. In the dim light, she looked like a perfect angel, much like the ones painted above. She clenched her hands together, then let them relax with a sigh.

“You’ll keep up your lessons with me?” she asked hopefully.

You nodded and sat on a nearby stool, “Of course. I love your lessons.”

Carlotta smiled thinly, “I love them too.”

You watched as she slipped her necklace back over her swan neck. The bright glint of ruby reminded you of the stage curtains she wrapped herself in. You couldn’t imagine Carlotta as anything other than a singer. She was born for the stage, after all. Her entire childhood had been preparing her for the opera house, following in the footsteps of her mother and her mother before her.

How you wished you could follow in her footsteps.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” you sighed.

“I’m going to miss my best student,” Carlotta gave you a somber smile.

“We’ll keep in touch, right?”

Carlotta flashed her award-winning smile, “I have all your socials; I’m not letting you get away from me that easily!”

You chuckled as you walked around the room, searching for a small brown box.

Carlotta got up to peek over your shoulder to admire the empty wrappers tucked under your shawl.

“Well,” she crowed, “looks like tubby got his treat after all!”

“Tubby?” you scoffed, “the phantom isn’t fat!”

“Well that’s what everybody else says,” Carlotta pointed out,” and if he’s eating candies and chocolates all day long then he’s bound to be… Well, you know… Tubby.”

“I’m telling you,” you rolled your eyes, “when I saw him he was skinny as a rake.”

“As a rake?” Carlotta raised a perfect eyebrow, “not a tractor mower?”

“No he’s skinny! Honestly, I should probably put out something a bit more substantial for him…” you muttered.

“Oh you’re going to go and make the phantom home cooked meals now, are you?” Carlotta smirked.

You huffed as a blush crossed your cheeks, “Well, maybe it would be nice.”

Carlotta hummed as she watched you go dispose of the wrappers. When you sat back down, Carlotta gave you a sagely nod.

“Well, if you get this phantom on a diet maybe he won’t be so afraid to show himself,” Carlotta shrugged, “who knows, maybe you could introduce us. You do seem to be his favorite.”

“Me?” you twittered awkwardly, “I don’t know about that…”

“Oh I know!” Carlotta laughed, “whenever you’re on stage the reviews are all five stars! I think the reason you’re being cast so often is that the managers are noticing how well we do when you’re on stage!”

You huffed, “You’re saying it’s not my skills as a performer drawing in the reviews?”

Carlotta bristled, “No I’m not saying that!” she relaxed as she took your hand in hers, “I’m saying that the phantom has a liking for you. I love you, but one particularly good background singer isn’t going to turn the tides of an entire production. You don’t ensure that lights magically keep working. Hell, one lead girl, Hannah I think but you’d have to check with her, her mic went out halfway through a performance. Not a single person noticed until they were doing audio checks after the performance! It was incredible!”

“Wait, you’re talking about the time we did Faust, right?” you asked.

“Yes that’s the one!” Carlotta grinned, “I’m telling you that something’s special about you when you’re on stage. Everybody else says you’re a lucky charm, but I think that a certain someone is watching over you.”

You looked away to try and hide your flushed face, “Well, maybe. But if he really liked me, wouldn’t he maybe introduce himself? I only saw him once…”

“I’m telling you,” Carlotta said primly, “he’s afraid you’ll think he’s fat! Either that or he’s an actual ghost, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I thought Henry was the ghost hunter around here?” you elbowed her lightly.

“What I said stays between us!” Carlotta warned you.

“Sure,” you smirked, “whatever you say.”

“You know, you should show more respect for your teacher,” Carlotta sniffed.

“I thought you were Anna’s teacher?” you pointed out.

Carlotta groaned and rubbed her temples irritably, “Well she’s no star either. If it weren’t part of my contract here I would’ve dropped her ages ago. She’s…”

“She’s something else,” you supplied.

“Oh she sure is…” Carlotta grumbled as she leaned her elbows onto the vanity, “at least I get one decent student out of this contract.”

You smiled, “I try to be.”

Carlotta turned to face you again with a ghost of a smile, “You are.”

You chatted easily in the dressing room, swapping stories of theater hijinks and arguing over the stature of the phantom of the opera late into the night. As you left for the night, you wondered once again if you had actually seen the phantom so long ago. Was it really true? Did you actually see the phantom, or was that just another performer? You suspected you’d never know for sure. You just hoped that you’d actually seen the whole event. You’d started to wonder if you were hallucinating the entire time.

You shut the door and locked it as you left.

Inside the room, König drifted from the corner of the dark room to your vanity. He heard voices coming from the alley behind him. Carefully, he used a nail he’d stolen earlier to tack a small letter to the corner of your mirror before ducking behind a panel in the wall. He noted that the gap was terribly small, far too small for a ‘tubby’ man to fit through. If that Carlotta wasn’t such a good teacher, well… König shook his head of the thoughts. As long as Carlotta was good to you, he’d be sure to watch over her too. His personal offense could wait another day if it meant ensuring you’d be safe in the opera house. He could be the ‘enormously fat rat’ as long as he could continue to watch your performances.

He hid behind the wall as the next group of singers swanned through the door. He listened to them titter about, laughing and giggling after such a successful showing. He heard a small gasp, and listened close.

“Look at that!” a girl said aloud.

“Look at what?” another asked.

“On the Songbird’s vanity! There’s a note!”

“Should we take a look?”

König bristled.

“No, no we shouldn’t. Let’s just ask her about it later.”

“Do you think it’s a lover?”

A scoff.

“I don’t think so. She’s not exactly a lovable sort.”

König rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe. There’s that one guy who’s always asking about her.”

“Oh, that Makarov guy?”

That got König’s attention.

“Yeah, the russian guy. He’s always watching Songbird, you know? I’ve heard he only gets tickets when Songbird’ll be on stage.”

“You think he got backstage to pin a note for her?”

“Maybe, or he might’ve given it to a stagehand to do it for him. Either way, it’s so romantic!”

“Well, if it’s really Makarov behind that, Songbird’s got another thing coming for her.”

“You think so?”

“Oh I know so! Makarov… Well, he’s not a good man. Let’s just hope it’s anybody but Makarov.”

König glanced around in the dark. Makarov? Who was this Makarov? Why was he interested in his little Songbird?

He didn’t bother to hide his footsteps as he crawled away, too focussed on the new man to notice how the girls went silent as he left.

“Was that the phantom?” someone asked.

“Maybe. What’re your thoughts he wrote the letter?”

“A ghost writing a letter? Now I know you’re making things up.”

“Who knows, maybe he did. Can you imagine it? A phantom falling in love with our little Songbird?”

Someone hummed carefully, “Something tells me that’s not too far off the truth.”

König dump

Alternate Universes

[dreamingofep]

Returning to Your Angel pt.4🥀

Prompt: After fleeing the Opera House unexpectedly five years ago, you're back hoping to start a new chapter. But your undeniable attraction to the Phantom makes your life more complicated than you hoped

TW: Tension, spicinessss, SMUTTT

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: Hi everyone! Very sorry for keeping you waiting like this. I think it was worth the wait because this chapter is SPICY 🥵 Thinking about this man is a full time job I swear🤭 Please enjoy.

🥀

You don’t remember how you got back to your room but you somehow made it. You cried yourself to sleep until the morning. When your eyes fluttered open, they stung. You wash your face first thing and look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were so red and puffy. You looked pathetic. You wished last night was like a dream. Like all the other dreams you had of him, you wish you woke up when he had finished pleasing you and could start the day off with that feeling of him visiting you. Instead, this was real life and the memories of last night come back to haunt you.

You didn’t regret a single thing, you just wish you could have left in better terms.

You managed to drag yourself out of bed to bathe and put your leotard on. You quickly bathed and dried yourself so you wouldn’t be late. You grab a pair of tights and sit on the edge of the bed to put them on. You pause when you reach your knees and see faint purple bruises on the inside of your upper thigh. Four oval-shaped shadows resided on there. Same size as his fingers… your mind flashes back to the way he was touching you, squeezing your thighs and spreading them apart so he could fit in between them… how he squeezed onto them tighter as he was about to-… Those damn hands were trouble. So much trouble. Just thinking of them had you weak.

You quickly pull yourself together and roll the rest of the stocking up, rushing to make it to the stage.

You show up in time for rehearsals and probably have the best performance you have had all the time you’ve been here. Your turns were perfect and your timing was right where it should be. Madame Giry took notice of you and made you an example to the other girls. It felt nice you were finally getting back into the swing of things.

Everyone took a break for half an hour to get prepared for the next ballet number. You stand off to the side and keep to yourself. You had the sheet music for the next ballet and tried to study the music to freshen up your memory of the dance.

There was murmuring at the front of the stage with the conductor, the managers, and Madame Giry. You didn’t know what was going on but they were all acting like something terrible just happened. Your heart races in anticipation. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions but you couldn’t help but become fearful of what was going on. Accidents have happened before… you just hoped they didn’t start again.

After some time, Madame Giry walks to you and pulls you to the side.

“There’s an issue…” she says softly.

“What is it?”

“The lead fell sick last night, we open in a week, she doesn’t think she can make a quick recovery and she still needs practice.”

“Oh no that’s awful.”

Don’t ask me what I think you are…

“Do you know the songs? Even just a little so you can fill in until she gets better?”

You sighed, you weren’t ready to sing again. At least not in this place. It was true you hadn’t been practicing and you didn’t feel like you were ready to sing again such a demanding aria. You couldn’t even sing the aria he had you practice! Maybe it might be better if he wasn’t ten inches away from you, looking at you like you were his last meal.

“I’m not sure if I can, I haven’t sung like this in years,” you object.

“They’re in a panic,” she says pointing to the conductor and managers, “can you just try the first verse and see if they like it?”

“Madame Giry please,” you sigh defeated.

“He would greatly appreciate you know, he loves it when you sing.”

You press your lips together to stop yourself from snapping at her. This is exactly what you didn’t want when you came here. You didn’t want to drop everything for him.

“No, he wouldn’t. Nothing pleases him,” you say sourly.

She holds her breath at your tone and tries to regroup herself. “I don’t think that’s true, he is the most content when he hears your voice. Remember that he helped bring out that gift in you,” she says gently.

She was right, of course. You found your voice because of him. You didn’t know if he gave you confidence or if just being near him sparked something inside you to reach your full potential. You look down at the sheet music in her hand and reach down to see it. The song was Think of Me, you recognized the melody. It wasn’t completely foreign to you and might be able to sing the first few bars.

You look at her and she knows you’ll try it out. She turns around to the conductor and managers and happily announces, “Christine can sing it, gentlemen.”

You feel the nerves get the best of you. You hadn’t done this in so long. You kept thinking about how you struggled to sing the song he gave you. You hoped you wouldn’t find yourself in the same situation.

You slowly make your way to the front of the stage where everyone is standing and give the best smile you can give through your nerves. You hear the men whisper among themselves, unsure if you have what it takes. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure if you do either.

The conductor goes back to the pit and cues the piano to start playing. You’re handed the long ornate scarf that is usually used as a prop in this section and hold onto it shakily. You have two bars to try to find your breath and calm yourself down. It’s not enough time because the two bars are over and the first line comes shakily out of your mouth.

Think of me

Think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye…

You know you’re better than this. These damn nerves are blinding you and you can hardly move. You think about running away. Quit now so you don’t make a complete fool of yourself. In the corner of your eye you see how Madame Giry is intently staring at you.

Remember me…

Every so often, promise me you’ll try

Your voice was weak and squeaked slightly at that last part. You had to get it together. You knew somewhere deep down you still had it. The passion for singing never left you. It was a gift that he gave you. Your voice and his were always intertwined.

You raise the scarf and twist it around your body, having the ends fall across your reached-out arms.

On that day, that not-so-distant day

When you were far away and free

If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me…

Your voice rang out clearer than it has in the longest time. It felt exhilarating. The piano stopped and everyone was silent for a moment. Your heart fluttered, hoping they didn’t hate it and you weren’t blind to how you sounded. The conductor started clapping and everyone followed suit. You let out a relieved sigh and thank them for their kind praise. You look over at Madame Giry and she is happy too. Looks like you’re here to sing after all even with all your tactics to stay in the background of the dancers.

*

The next week was full eight-hour days of rehearsals and costume fittings. It was an organized, chaotic mess backstage. They had been rehearsing for weeks before you arrived so everyone was scrambling to get a whole new wardrobe for you made. But everyone was such a professional. They all worked well under pressure and all your costumes would be done by opening night.

In the last week, you haven't seen him. Not even a whisper that he was around. You didn’t go to the dressing room curious if he left you a rose. You weren’t sure he wanted to see you ever again. You had to focus on your performance though. You felt confident but you hadn’t been in such a big room with an audience in years. That part scared you. You also know he likes to drop in on performances. It was a demand of his to keep Box 5 empty. The old managers normally complied but these managers were new and didn’t know the wrath that he could bring to this place. You just hoped everything would go smoothly.

You hear the hum of the audience taking their seats in the large theater. You were excited and nervous to be back on this stage. You hadn’t done this in so long and doubted yourself. You tried to push those thoughts aside. You couldn’t sabotage yourself and run away now. Everyone was counting on you.

The start of the show started flawlessly. You didn’t miss a beat and you felt your vocals were strong. All of your costumes fit perfectly and the audience was loving every minute of the show. You spot Raoul in Box 3, the middle box on the middle level. He wore a smile on his face as he watched you sing and not miss a cue.

The end of the show was drawing near and the big aria was next. It was more daunting than you one might think but it was just you alone on that big stage. You had no other background actors or dancers to distract the audience of you slipped up. You were confident.

You start the song with poise and the music overtakes your heart. You loved being up here singing. This might be what you were meant to do. The first interlude of the song plays and you gracefully move around the stage, letting the music take you.

Flowers fade the fruits of summer fade

They have their season, so do we

But please promise me that sometimes

You, will think…

There’s a break in the music to breathe for the high notes in the last bar of the song. You take a deep breath in and your body shutters, sucking the air out of you. You know what that feeling is. You couldn’t deny it. He was here. You slowly glance up at Box 5, and the shadowy figure of him sits tucked away in the booth. You can feel those piercing eyes burn into you and make you feel like mush.

You break your eyes away from him and face the audience again. The conductor in the pit is waiting for you to cue the orchestra. People were starting to hum nervously that you couldn’t finish the aria. You take another deep breath in and smile at the audience.

Of Meeeeee!

You hit the notes and the whole place bursts into thunderous applause. You smile at the reaction, relieved you did it. Flowers were thrown at your feet on the stage in a sea of pink and white roses. You curtsy as a sign of appreciation, thankful for the beautiful response. A single red rose falls at your feet and you pick it up, looking up at Box 5. He was still there, a slight smile on his lips as he turned away and faded into the darkness.

*

You received a million congratulations on a great show from everyone and could barely leave the backstage area. Everyone wanted to talk to you or hear how you learned to sing like that. Your response was always, “It took a lot of practice.” While it was true, you wouldn’t dare utter his name to a stranger.

After over an hour of being bombarded with people and more roses, Madame Giry escorted you to the grand dressing room. The room was lit with candles and had dozens of bouquets waiting for you. They were in an assorted color but your eye instantly drew to the large bouquet of dark red roses. He wanted to see you…

You turn to Madame Giry, trying not to freak yourself out.

“All of this for me?” You ask shyly.

“Yes my dear, you deserve it, you did well. He will be pleased,” she says hugging you. You feel your heart pound at that sentiment.

Will he? I don’t know if that’s possible…

You face her once again and pretend to not be phased by her words.

“Thank you, would you mind if I spend the rest of the night alone? I don’t want to see anyone else. It’s been an eventful evening,” you explain.

She nods her head in agreement, “of course. You deserve to bask in your triumph. I will see you tomorrow.”

There was a mob of people waiting outside the dressing room door and she managed to push them back to not disturb you. You get up and lock the door to ensure you won’t be bothered. You sit back down at the vanity and take your earrings off as well as the pins in your hair. It was quiet in here but you can still hear the loud rumblings of the crowd outside.

Your eyes get drawn to the rose on the desk once again and pick it up. It was beautiful, as always, but you contemplated if you should see him. You wanted to hear what he thought of your performance, but your last encounter made it hard to be excited to see him. You turn your head slowly to the mirror and only see your reflection at the vanity. At least he wasn’t waiting for you and can have this moment to yourself. Maybe you can start over tomorrow with him. This wasn’t something that needed to be rushed.

You decide to change for the evening and hang your costume up. You had a nightgown put in here so you could quickly slip into it and head to bed after. You change behind the partition and wrap your white ruffled robe around your body. You were about to leave and reach for the door handle when most of the candles blew out in a sudden gust of wind. The room became dramatically darker and a chill ran down your spine. You slowly turn around and feel his presence already.

He was in the room which surprised you, he normally always waited for you behind the mirror. He was wearing all black with a long cape as usual and stood there speechless looking at you. You cautiously walked to him, leaving plenty of space between you both. Your heart thumped uncontrollably the closer you got to him. You couldn’t get used to the pull of his presence.

“Hi,” you breathe.

His eyes look you over as you try to control your ragged breathing.

You can tell he’s trying to find the right words but he’s struggling to.

“Darling you were… incredible. The most amazing performance I have ever seen,” he says exasperated. He takes a step closer to you then falters back, not wanting to get that close to you just yet.

“Thank you, I didn’t know you would come..” You say insecurely.

“Of course, I would. I wouldn’t miss your performance for the world.”

It was exactly what you wanted to hear, what you needed to hear from him. You couldn’t fight the pull anymore and wrap your arms around him, pulling him in for an embrace. He takes in a sharp breath when he feels you pressed against him.

“Thank you, thank you for being there,” you whisper.

His hands gently caress your hair and he takes a deep breath in and out before speaking.

“I couldn’t miss it. I would never miss a chance of seeing you on stage doing what you were meant to do.”

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and you pull yourself away from him to see his face.

You take a moment to take in his beauty. He was trembling slightly as his hands wrapped around your back, gently trailing them down to your waist.

“Come with me, please.”

Your instincts tell you to turn away, keep your distance and maybe your relationship with him will stay strong. But your careless, irresponsible instincts tell you to let him whisk you away and let him do whatever he wants with you.

He can sense your hesitation and he softly caresses your face.

“Please, I can’t stand another second from being away from you. This week was so long for me. I wanted to see you the second you left. I’m sorry I was so harsh,” he says weakly.

“No, I understand, I forgive you. I missed you every day too.”

He kisses the back of your hand and sighs longingly, those lips making you feel warm and tingly inside.

“Please come with me,” he begs one more time.

“Okay,” you breathe.

He treads backward and doesn’t let his eyes leave you. He was in desperate need of your attention. You tightly hold onto his hand as you both make your way down to his lair. The cool air brushes against your skin but it makes you feel more alive. He makes you feel more alive. He did what he always does, he doesn’t tear his eyes off of you as he makes his way to the boat, making you feel like you’re in a trance.

The soft glow of the candles on the walls made this place feel warm. There was haze that danced on the lake’s surface, making it harder to see as you went further underground. The latticed gate rose as soon as you both got close to it. You look back at him, wondering how he does that. He was a man who was more powerful than you imagined it seems.

You reach the edge of the lake and he lifts you out of the boat this time. His strong hands pick you up from underneath your arms and spins you around momentarily before setting you back on the ground.

His breathing is shaky once again and so is yours. He takes his hands off of you like he’s afraid he might hurt you.

“I got you something for your big night,” he says low.

“No you didn’t have to,” you say weakly.

“Yes I did, you needed something to commemorate a wonderful night,” he says as he turns away to his room. You momentarily follow him but remember he didn’t like you in his room. That was his and it was off-limits to you. You had never been on the other side of the curtain and he normally never kept candles on in there so all you saw was a peek of darkness.

You turn to see if anything has changed since you were here. At his desk, there were charcoal sketches of you. You were taken aback by how much time he put into these. They looked life-like with how much detail they had. Some of the others that were scattered on the desk were just bits and pieces of you drawn. The first one you saw was just a sketch of your eyes. Your fanned-out lashes and your bright eyes looked back at you from the page. You couldn’t get over the details.

Another one you found underneath was a sketch of your hands. They looked small and delicate. He noticed every detail on you even the small little freckle you had on the back of your hand. There were dozens more you uncovered. Some of your lips, your neck even. The last one made you pause. It was buried at the very bottom of the pile and was a silhouette of you naked.

You had never seen yourself like this. This person in the picture was beautiful and flawless, you never viewed yourself like that. The way your curls fell perfectly down your back and how your eyes looked sultry with need. The way he drew your breasts was even perfect. It made you blush a bit that he thought of you in this much detail….

You hear his heavy footsteps come closer and your eyes flash to him. He looks at the papers in your hands and he can see which one you’re looking at in particular. He stays silent as he walks closer to you.

“Sorry, I- I had to look at these. You draw so beautifully.” You say as you feel your cheek burn.

“Thank you, I have the most beautiful muse to inspire me…” he smiles. You could kiss him for saying such things. No man had ever shown you such adoration.

He takes the papers from your hands and looks at the silhouette one a bit timidly.

“I’m sorry for all of this but… you’ve just been in my head all week. It was torturous without you. I couldn’t think straight without seeing you when I closed my eyes. I had to draw your beauty in the most natural light…”

“Don’t be sorry I just, I have never seen myself this way” you say shyly.

“Well, you should… every part of you is perfection…” he says low. You try to hide your face from him but his fingers gently lift your chin back up to look at him.

“Look at me my Angel,” he breathes. Your eyes lock on him and his perfect lips. He’s struggling to say anything else and keep his hands off of you. He mutters something under his breath but tries to clear his throat to speak to you.

“I have something for you…” he says as he picks up a long box on the table.

He opened it for you and it was a beautiful, delicate gold necklace with a teardrop ruby that hung from the middle. It was stunning and sparkled even in this low light.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so beautiful… you didn’t have to do this,” you sigh.

“You deserve it, it was meant for you.”

He carefully turns you around and raises the necklace over your head and clasps it on you. You shiver at how close he is to you and try to not fall weak at his feet. He gently pulls your hair out of the necklace and lets your hair fall over one side of your neck. He leads you to a mirror next to the table and has you look at your reflection. He kept his hand on the small of your back as you stood there. It was impossible to not want his touch. It wouldn’t leave your mind even if you tried. You missed it more than you wanted to admit.

You try to refocus and look at the necklace on you. It looked great on you and complimented you perfectly. The chain was so intricate and laid gracefully down your neck. You look at him in the mirror and watch how he looks at you drunkenly. Those eyes made you feel on fire once again. It was suffocating the way you needed him to keep all of his attention on you. Both of his hands rest on your hips and he can’t help but squeeze them.

You don’t care if he told you to never touch him, you had to hold him, touch him anyway. You had to show the appreciation for what he did. You can feel the way his body stiffens when you wrap your arms around him. He couldn’t let himself enjoy your touch. You turn your head and kiss his cheek, loving the feeling of his skin on you. A low growl comes from his chest as you place another kiss on his face.

“Angel…” he sighs defeated.

“What?”

“I told you I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” You ask innocently, caressing his head and pressing your nose into the crook of his neck.

“I can’t touch you like this…”

You pull your head away from him and see how he’s losing every ounce of control he has left.

“The flame is back… you knew it wasn’t going to be put out for long.”

His jaw clenched and he looks at you intensely. You feel your heart pound and your core flutters at the way he’s looking at you.

“I know, I can feel it…”

Ravage me, make me cry out your name in a way you have never heard before, you think.

“Then take care of me, just like you said,” you challenge.

“No, I can’t, I promised myself that I wouldn’t touch you that way again.”

You pull at his jacket in frustration, “then break your promise. I can’t deny you.”

You feel his length harden and push against you. He grumbles how he can’t tell you no. Your chest heaves against his and your hands continue to pull at his clothes.

“Please, please I want you.”

“God don’t beg,” he grits through his teeth and momentarily rolls his eyes back.

You don’t care anymore, you couldn’t fight this attraction.

Your hands slither down to his cock and sigh when you feel how hard he feels through his pants. You feel your wetness pool and makes you weaker by the second.

“Please, I’ll beg all night if I have to. I need you. I need you to do what you’ve been desperately wanting to do to me since you knew I was back in this building.” Your voice trembled, unable to help how you were feeling and you didn’t want to fight it anymore. His breathing hitched and that fire in his eyes appeared. God, it was so dangerous but you loved it.

His hands grabbed onto your waist and he leaned in to kiss you with a fiery passion. You sigh a whiny sigh into his mouth and cling onto him for dear life. He holds onto you tighter, trying to keep you as close as possible. His tongue slips into your mouth and he groans because of it. You let his tongue lick and claim every inch of you.

You’re nearly out of breath with the way he’s kissing you. You can’t get enough of him. His hands are killing you with the way they are trying to consume and squeeze any part of you in his reach. He lifts you up off the ground by the backs of your thighs, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he takes you to your room.

You don’t stop kissing him until he gently lays you down in the bed. He hovers over you and looks at your trembling state. You were hoping he wouldn’t tell you no again. You felt how much he wanted you, there was no denying that. He unties his cape from his neck and unfurls it across the bed. The smell of him was intoxicating and you wanted to bury your face in all his clothes. He continues to unbutton his jacket and shirt, showing you his pale skin. You wanted to lick every inch of him and show him how much you wanted him. You didn’t care if his body was scarred, you loved it all. He unbuttons his pants with a bit of hesitancy. Your eyes plead for him to keep going.

He finally pulls his pants down and his cock comes free. He must have seen the way your eyes widen when you look at him because he has a smirk on his face.

“Are you sure you want me?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“And you want all of me?” He says as he brings his hand to his shaft and slowly pumps it.

“I do,” you tremble, pulling your nightgown up slightly. He bites his lower lip when he looks at your uncovered pussy.

He curses under his breath and brings his two fingers to your weeping core, rubbing softly and spreading the wetness. You moan loudly and you feel his hand spread your legs apart more. You move your hips with the motion of his fingers, putting more pressure on your sensitive bud. You let your head fall back, enjoying every minute of this but still wanting more from him. He groans too and you feel his two fingers push at your entrance. Your eyes shoot back open and cry out when he pushes his fingers deeper inside you and pumps them in and out. Your core makes the most lewd, sloppy noises the more he moves. This pressure builds inside you and he has you already losing all control.

Through fluttered eyelashes, you look at him in between your legs. He looks at you like he’s watching the most beautiful scene unfold before him and can’t tear his attention from you. That sultry look he has in his eye is too overwhelming and makes you whimper loudly.

“Doing so good darling, so damn wet for me hmm?”

You nod your head at him and watch his wet fingers sink deep into you. You gasp for air and ball the blanket underneath you in your grasp.

“I want you,” you gasp.

“Yes, what do need from me?”

“I want you to make love to me, please don’t let me wait any longer.”

He groans at your response and gets on top of you. He wastes no time and grabs the bottom of your nightgown and tears it off your body. Your nipples hardened with the cool air and he looks at you like you’re a feast. He didn’t know where to start. His mouth licks and sucks at your breast, making you arch into his mouth. He nips on the side of it, giving you a zing of pleasure running through your body. Your hands grapple onto his forearms and let him cover you in kisses and licks on your chest.

His other hand played with your sensitive bud. You wanted to cry to the heavens already. You were so pent up and couldn’t handle his hands on you again. His kisses move up to your neck, sucking there that made you gasp for air. The ache inside you worsened with every little tease he gave you. You felt his tip rest at your entrance and it made you throb with need.

He looks at your face before going any further.

“Tell me what you need. I want you to want this as badly as I do,” he says as he rubs his tip through your wet folds. You whine helplessly and look at him, begging silently.

“Take me, please.”

He groans at your answer and slowly pushes his length inside you. You gasped for breath instantly. He was so much more than you expected. He tried to swallow the loud groan he made when he first slipped inside you. You moaned at the way your walls wrapped tightly around him and couldn’t get used to the size of him. He was so much longer and the girth of him filled you more than you could handle. The searing pleasure burnt inside you and you couldn’t breathe right. He slowly moved, trying to get you used to him.

“Breathe my Angel, you’re doing so good,” he coos and kisses your lips. You do what he says and he moves more, pushing more of his cock with every thrust. You try to pull him closer, wanting to feel his body beat with yours. He stays hovered over you, watching his length plunge in and out of you slowly. He grunts quietly, pressing his lips together as he moves controlled.

It was so beautiful to watch him enjoy you. The way he bit his lip slightly the deeper he went inside you and the way his hair began to flop down over his mask as time went on. He was so attractive and it made every part of you feel on fire. Looking down at where you two connected made you squeeze tightly around him. You had never seen something so erotic.

You look up at him when you feel him push the rest of him inside you and stills, letting you get used to him like this. His eyes were still fiery but there was still his softness to him. You gasp for air and scratch at his forearms. He grunts at the sensation and takes one of his hands to your aching bud, rubbing it the perfect way and you feel more pleasure run through you. You felt your core relax a bit more and flutter at what he was giving you.

He sucks in a sharp breath when he’s touching you and feeling the wetness that’s spilling out of you.

“That’s it, darling, you take me so well.” He sighs.

The sound of his gruff voice sends tingles through you and you cry out helplessly.

“I know, I know darling, you keep enjoying all of it,” he coos.

You look back into his eyes as he slowly moves his hips, creating the most delicious sensation inside you. He can’t hide how overcome he is by his own feelings. His jaw falls slack the more he moves and looks down at your body.

“Do you like it? How do I feel?” You ask short and out of breath.

The question takes him by surprise and he moves a bit faster.

“Jesus you feel so damn good. Just like heaven.” He groans. You pull him at his shoulders to give you a kiss. You craved his lips on yours and needed him. He obliged and kissed you with a fervor. You moaned against his lips and that only made his hips drive into you harder. Oh God, you liked it. You liked it when he gave you more and made you almost see stars because of it. It was the most insufferable feeling on this earth. You wanted him to consume you from the inside out.

You writhe under him and wrap your legs around his torso, making him stay deeper as he moves. The sound he made because of that made your core squeeze around him. It was like a primal groan that he was holding back for years. Something inside him flipped and he took you harder. He pinned your hands above your head and held you there tightly.

His eyes had that dangerous look again but it only turned you on more.

“Yes, just like that,” you cry as you squeeze your eyes shut. His breathing became more ragged and the squelching of where you were connected became louder.

You feel his teeth at your neck and he nips there.

“Oh I see how you like it,” he growls in your ear, “you like it when I fuck you. You don’t like it when I make love. You like it when I lose control,” he hissed.

“Yes, yes I do,” you whimper.

He pounds his hips into you more and cusses profusely.

“Then say it. Tell your Angel how you like to get fucked,” his voice was thunderous and made you succumb to such demands.

“I-I do. I like it when you fuck me. I like to make you lose control,” he wept. He looks at you with that heated look and unwraps your legs around him. He spreads them open and he fucks you to the brink with his cock. This new angle has you on the edge of finishing. You couldn’t hold on any longer. His hips were unrelenting and claiming.

His eyes lock with yours and you can’t pull away. You had never seen him like this. With all the heated exchanges you’ve had over the years, that couldn’t compare to what he was giving you now. He was so far gone and liked it too much.

He pins your hands back above your head again and makes you cry out for him. You were completely at his mercy. You try to twist your wrists free but he is much stronger and won’t let you move. Your core flutters around him and he feels it too. He swivels his hips harder and kisses your face more. You can hardly kiss him back, just helpless cries coming from your lips.

“I can feel you’re close. Cum for me, don’t hold back,” he growls in your ear as he stuffed you to the brink with his cock. You feel your body stiffen at his words and feel pleasure pour over your whole body. Your heart races and you squeeze your eyes shut as stars take over your vision. He cusses in your ear as you squeeze his length repeatedly.

“Jesus darling don’t stop, you feel so good,” he groans. You can’t look at him, you’re too overwhelmed and your body is at the mercy of him. It felt like the waves crashing on the shore of a beach. One moment you feel your orgasm ripple through you and you have a moment to breathe. Then the next, he’s moving his hips a different way and it hits you all over again and somehow more powerful.

He slows his pace and you flutter your eyes open again. He looks drained, unable to move any further. He lets go of your wrists and quickly pulls out of you, heaving for air.

“So good darling…” he mutters as he places his hand around his length and watches as he covers your tummy in his seed. He had the most blissful expression on his face as ecstasy ran through him. His length was covered in your arousal and so was his hand now. You wanted to touch him, just to feel what it was like when he was cumming.

You sit up slightly to reach his cock and put your hand on his. He looks down at you stunned for a moment but doesn’t stop you. He takes his hand off of himself and has you do the rest. You used the same motions he was and pumped and twisted his length. He groans heavily and you feel his cock pulse repeatedly in your hand as more spilled out of him. It was so sinful and salacious to watch him do this but you couldn’t help but like it.

He sits back on his heels and looks spent. You slowly move your hand and wait for him to open his eyes again. Those piercing blue eyes stare into your soul and make you freeze.

“God darling you’ve made such a mess of me,” he sighs.

You smile at him and nod your head, “you’ve done the same to me,” you quip, looking down at the mess on your tummy and in between your thighs.

He takes your hand off of him and pushes you back on the bed again. He covers your face with kisses and grumbles to himself delightfully.

“I’ve dreamed of this. It was better than I could have imagined though,” you whispered in his ear.

He looks back at you not believing what he had heard.

“I have too… you still liked it even when I look like this?” He says motioning to his scarred body.

“Yes, of course I do. Believe me when I say that I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” you say shyly.

You can tell he doesn’t believe it but you try to make him see. You place both of your hands on either side of his face and get him to look at you. He always hated it when you touched his mask. It made him feel ugly and unwanted.

“Please look at me,” you sigh.

He flashes his eyes at you and bites the inside of his lip.

“I’ve never had anyone care for me as much as you just did. Please believe me, I beg of you.”

He slyly smirks and kisses your forehead.

“All this begging you’re doing is going to drive me wild. I can’t deny you anything if you beg for it,” he says low and sultry, rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Then believe what I say to you,” you say firmly.

“Mmk, darling, I believe you… I just like it too much when you beg for me,” he sighs, placing a kiss on your neck. You whimper at his touch and grab onto his arm.

“Am I going to have to beg you to come and do that all again to me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I would love to hear that come from your lips,” he groans in your ear, kissing you and pulling your hair in his hand, making your eyes roll.

•

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•

Tagging:

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@dontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101@austinsmutler@kingdomforapony.

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@theycametoconquertheearth53

[pretty-little-mind33]

Friedrich Harding x fem!reader

Mini-Series Summary: Paris 1889. You're just starting as the new Étoile at the Palais Garnier Opéra. Everything is going smoothly until your sponsor, the mysterious man who haunts box number 5, makes himself known. (with mentions of Thomas Hutter x fem!reader)

Chapter Summary: You meet your sponsor for the first time.

Chapter Warnings: sensual touching, mentions of fire, allusions to prostitution

~ author note at the end ~

SERIES MASTERLIST

Applause erupts around the room, spectators standing from their chairs as the chandelier glistens, the flames burning a bright orange. Your hands shake, skimming over the silk of your tutu, feet trembling, as you walk up to the audience. Your chest is heaving from exhaustion but you hold your head high, blinded by the light and deafened by the applause around you.

You grin, curtseying as white roses hit the stage all around you. Lifting your gaze, you catch a glimpse of your husband standing up in his box, a proud smile tugs his lips, and feel warmth flood your cheeks. 

Once the curtains fall closed, you collapse onto the ground.

"Y/n!" The other dancers, including your best friend; Annabelle Landry, rush over and kneel by your side. You're holding your ankle, the pain in your toes unbearable but you're still smiling as you laugh. 

"You did marvelously!" Annabelle holds your cheeks and kisses your forehead, her voice still hushed even as the music from the orchestra still plays. "Maman will be proud," she adds, glancing down at your ballet shoes. Crimson liquid seeps through the shoes and Annabelle gasps. "Oh my, you need to ask Thomas if he would buy you some new ones," she says, her voice stern. 

You shake your head, taking her hand and standing on your bleeding feet. "Papa gifted me those shoes before he passed. I shall not be rid of them." You smile. Annabelle sends you a strained smile as he helps you limp backstage. 

The familiar chaos greets you as you're congratulated on your phenomenal performance. Madame Landry walks up, her cane supporting her weight as she smiles. "Ma chérie (My darling), you were beautiful," she says, "he will be proud." 

Hearing this, your chest tightens and you nod. Your sponsor, the mysterious man who always sits and watches in box number 5, has been with you since the beginning of your journey as an upcoming Étoile. When you were beginning, Thomas did not have enough money to sponsor you, but this generous stranger had taken a liking to you. He has never demanded to meet with you, nor did he ask for the usual favors a sponsor normally asks for— which, you are eternally grateful for because you surely would have refused his advances. 

After all, you have your Thomas. 

"He wants to congratulate you himself, up in his box," Madame Landry adds, "You should change."

Your stomach twists and Annabelle sends you a nervous look. "Maman (Mom)—"

"Shush, child, you need to practice. Now, shoo," Madame Landry waves her daughter away, turning her attention to you as she squeezes your arm. "It shall be alright," she promises but your stomach still sinks. You nod, rushing up the stairs to your changing room. Just as you unpin your tiara, a knock sounds on the wooden door. 

"Come in," you call.

When the door opens, Thomas enters with a bouquet of pink roses. Your fear vanishes and you gasp, running into his arms. He twirls you around, pressing kiss after kiss to your burning cheeks. "Mon amour (My love)," he says, smiling against your hair, "You did so well. You looked beautiful. I was so proud."

"Thank you, my Thomas," you whisper, smiling widely, all your worries melting away. 

Thomas has always been supportive of your passion. His enthusiasm made up for his lack of money in that department. You'd been married for almost six years now, having married young. Your parents, being upper middle class, had disapproved of the wedding and your career choice; but Thomas has always been there. It didn't matter if he was a commoner, the son of the town's hatmaker.

He was yours and you loved him. He made you feel safe. 

"You must be exhausted," your husband says, stroking your cheekbone. He looks down, seeing as you haven't yet changed. His cheeks flush pink.

"Oh, my apologies, darling. I shall come by later and bring you home. Some of thegentlemen demand my attention—most likely to congratulate me on your performance, although it was all you." He presses a chaste kiss to your lips. You smile softly, watching him leave and touch your lips. 

It was rare for a married man to allow his wife to occupy such careers, and it was especially rare for one to do so without claiming credit for her success. 

You turn to the mirror again, smoothing a hand over your tutu. You touch the tiara, smiling as you unpin the white feather in your hair. Undressing happens in a blur, the costume now hanging from the wardrobe as you brush your hair, fingers tangling in your curls. You're humming the melody of Le Lac Des Cygnes as your conversation with Thomas lingers in your mind. The delicate fabric of your white robe feels soothing over the rashes from the coarse costume. The feathers had been digging into your skin. 

Just as you stand to dress again, ready to return home, Madame Landry's words echo in your mind and your blood runs cold. 

"He wants to congratulate you himself, up in his box."

Fear strikes you and you don't hesitate as you slip on your shoes, rushing to the door. It's been almost half an hour. Surely, he wouldn't have waited for you. You open the door to your dressing room, peeking outside. Luckily, Thomas is still preoccupied with the other gentleman because he doesn't seem to be around. You hold your breath, rushing through the back corridors of the theater as you look for the back entrance to box number 5. 

You twist and turn, finally making it to the entrance and you halt in your tracks. The box is dark and there is no sign of anyone ever being inside. You slow, clutching your robe around yourself as your hands tremble. 

You mustn't despair, you remind yourself, he has no sign of cruelty. Maybe he'll have mercy and not withdraw his sponsorship. 

Madame Landry has never given you his name, only that he is a wealthy gentleman who came from Germany in his ownship. You wonder if Madame Landry is more acquainted with him than she leads on. You never dare ask. 

"Hello?" you try your luck, wondering if he could be hiding in the shadows. 

You walk towards the plush crimson chair, trailing the golden rim, as you walk around it to the edge. Your gaze downcasts at the shimmer of red from the corner of your eye and you see a red rose, a black ribbon tied around the steam, sitting promptly on the chair. Leaning forward, you pick up the rose and hold it delicately in your hands. 

"It didn't seem like you would come," a hoarse, stern, voice resounds from behind you and you jump. Just as you spin around, some of the oil lamps lighting the theater pop and dim the lights even more. You let out a strangled squeal, your gaze stuck on the man now standing much too close.

The rose falls from your hands.

His face is plunged into darkness, his curly hair falling over his sharp blue eyes. The blue is the only thing you can really see as half of his face appears to be hidden by a white mask that covers up to his chin.

You squint, seemingly frozen in place, as the man looks you over. 

You feel exposed, standing in only your robe. You wish you hadn't been in such a hurry. You've heard stories from the other dancers of their sponsors, and if this man is anything like them, that wasn't a wise choice. 

You drop to the ground, picking up the rose. When you stand, you let out a breathy gasp as the man's hand gently touches your jaw. He's closer, and still, he remains in the shadows. You hold your breath, gathering your wits to thank him like you assume he'd called you in here for. Still, you don't move his hand as you stare into his eyes. 

You clutch the ends of your robe, diverting your gaze to curtsey. "Thank you, my lord. I appreciate all your generous donations over these years. I am forever in your debt," you say, steading your voice so it doesn't tremble. 

The man remains silent as you stand again, clutching the rose in hand. You look at the flower and then up at him again. "And this rose is beautiful—"

"You deserve every beautiful thing this world has to offer," his voice is smooth and strong "Every last diamond deserves to lay on your neck, and every shimmering sapphire should adorn your hair. You are the most radiant creature I have ever cast my eyes on."

You feel dizzy as the man walks behind you, his hand skimming yours and brushing over your stomach. You tense, knowing this touch is inappropriate but he hasn't done enough to warrant your protest. Plus, his kind words hinder your ability to think rationally.

"You shine on that stage. No other dancer compares to you. You are beautiful," he finishes, his lips almost near your ear.

You shiver, your mind is fuzzy from his compliments. Even Thomas has never complimented you so lavishly. "T-thank you, my lord." 

Strong hands press against your stomach, the touch sending a spark inside you. You clasp your smaller hand on his, unsure if you wish to savor his touch or pull his hand away. You seem to have fallen under a spell, your breathing coming out in sharp gasps. 

"You shall be mine, I guarantee that," he whispers, his hand trailing up to cup your jaw. You turn your head, squeezing your eyes shut as a familiar, and yet unfamiliar, feeling arises in your stomach. 

"My Lord—I have—"

The words barely leave your mouth before he disappears, his touch foreign. You're left standing in the dimly lit box, your chest rising and falling with emotions you can't quite place. 

Even back in your home as you lay comfortably next to your husband, Thomas's arms holding you close, you can barely sleep. 

All you see when you close your eyes is that man's gaze behind the pearly white mask, his touch on your skin igniting feelings you didn't know you could feel.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing those thoughts away. 

But as you drift into a restless sleep, nightmares plague your mind—the smell of burning plaster and satin as warm flames threaten to engulf you whole. Millions of rats scurry across the cobblestones, tails burning, as you run barefooted from a shadow in the darkness. 

And in the end, there is nothing you can do but allow the fire to overwhelm you. 

~ * ~

~ thank you for reading! just another content warning! i am basing this on snippet of what the Paris dance world was like at the time—most ballerinas were doing sexual favors for the patrons of the Ballet and their wealthy sponsors however apart from this being mentioned, there will be no smut or explicit sexual themes in this story! ~

[gh0stsp1d3r]

phantom of the opera!Rafe x Christine daae!reader

(Is this too niche? Sorry it’s the theater kid in me)

okay this is the last one i swear, im sorry i love making moodboards so much 😭 Ill write soon i swear

[vladimirsangel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera (2004), The Phantom of the Opera (TV 1990), The Phantom of the Opera (1925), Phantom - Susan Kay Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Nadir Khan, The Persian (Phantom of the Opera) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multiple Eriks, Humor, Hobby Store AU, There's nothing that annoys Erik like another Erik, Fights Summary:

Months go by and still nobody has given you an explanation for the higher-than-average number of customers seemingly dressed for the cabaret. It’s almost becoming a hobby in itself for you, watching the comings and goings of the five masked men.

@purrlockswatson is to blame for this

@blackforrestpunk you're not blameless either