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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Man with the Fiery Gaze

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, overstimulation, uncertainty related to physical wounds, trauma ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Her husband terrified everyone but her. His cold, mocking gaze, his lips clenched into a thin line, his pallor, his black eye patch made it seem to her that his lordships saw him as a phantom rather than a man. She found it hard to believe how much he could change as he crossed the door of his chamber, as he joined her in bed, asking in a whisper if his little wife missed her husband.

She had always missed him.

When he was not beside her she felt incomplete.

To the fury of some lords, he expected her presence at councils, consulting her often, relying on her advice. She did not interfere in the affairs of the kingdom when he did not ask her to or when he did not want to hear her opinion, having no intention of undermining his authority or challenging his opinion in front of other lords.

She wanted him to know that he could always count on her support, and only spoke to him of her doubts behind the closed doors of their chamber.

They were bound together by deep darkness, grief and death, tying them together by an invisible thread of understanding.

She had the feeling when she looked at him, when he gripped her in his hands, that he was devouring her, with every thrust of his hips taking something of her for himself − when she embraced him tightly, joining with his lips in a sudden, passionate kiss she had the feeling that he was filling her whole, that they were one person.

There was something in his coldness, in his distance, in his enviousness that attracted her, in his almost frantic, menacing gaze as he looked at her with his mouth wide open, hissing for her to beg him for his seed, which she did devotedly, making him come inside her a moment later with a loud, low groan of pleasure.

"− we are one −" He whispered when it was all over, lying on top of her, staying deep inside her, looking straight into her eyes, his large hand stroking her cheek. "− you and me − you see me as I truly am −"

She smiled at his words, feeling gratitude, peace and heat rippling across her chest − the sight of such a reaction on her face always embarrassed him and moved him in a way, so he tried to distract her with a sticky, hot kiss which he placed on her lips, her fingers then sinking into his hair, reciprocating his caress with devotion.

She was horrified by how connected she felt to him.

She was horrified by how much affection he evoked in her.

She was the only person he really confided in about his dark thoughts. He spoke to her about the lords he doubted, took advice from her on the things that kept him awake, looking at her intently, knowing that he would recognise immediately if she lied to him.

She had no intention of doing so.

She was faithful to him in body, heart and mind.

He knew that, and that was what was driving him mad, pushing him to root into her at night until she begged him to finally let them both rest.

"− I need to make sure I've filled my wife well −" He panted between desperate, sloppy thrusts of his hips, their bodies all welted up from the exertion − he sank inside her with a loud click of her juices and his spend, looking at the sight of him taking her from behind, unable to deny himself watching his fat cock stretch her insides with his every thrust.

"− fuck − so good −" He mumbled, coming again with a sigh of wonderful relief, falling on top of her at last, his sweat-wet hands finding hers and entwining with them, his cheek nestled against hers, his lips surrounding her skin with his hot, raptured breath.

"− you smell wonderful − I could do this to you all night −" He muttered, lazily pushing his half-soft manhood deeper into her with soft rocking of his hips.

"− I know, my King − but have mercy on your poor wife who won't be able to sit up tomorrow −" She whispered half dreaming; it was late and all she wished was that he would let her lie like that with him and fall asleep.

She heard him murmur, felt his pride beating at the thought of him bringing her to such a state, feeling fulfilled as a man, a lover and a husband as a result.

"− your husband is merciful − sleep −" He hummed softly, leaning down, placing a kiss on her naked shoulder, turning with her to his side so that he was no longer crushing her with his body, embracing her tightly, her hands tightening on his arms, delightfully hiding in his embrace.

Very often they both had nightmares, each seeing the same thing in them − soldiers with swords who burst into their chamber screaming, killing them in their beds.

Her husband kept two daggers under their pillows, just in case, and every night he checked with an involuntary flick of his hand that they were in place before he fell asleep.

When she woke with a scream she could feel him shuddering beside her, terrified, clasping his arms around her, a quiet, helpless quiver escaping her lips.

"− shhh − it's me − you're safe − breathe −" He whispered softly, again and again kissing her hot, soft skin, stroking her bare body with his hands until her heart slowed again and her breathing calmed.

"− I dreamt that they came for us − that they slit your throat and then raped me in front of your eyes − you were still alive and they made you watch −" She mumbled out in a trembling voice feeling a tear run down her cheek onto the pillow under her head.

She heard him swallow loudly at her words, embracing her tighter from behind, nuzzling his face into her hair, his fingers stroking her bare shoulder.

"− no one will touch you − you're mine and you're safe − your husband will protect you −" He whispered quietly and she nodded, closing her eyes, allowing herself to focus only on the warmth of his body, on the tenderness with which his hand stroked her bare flesh, trying to give her any source of comfort.

When her moon bleeding began to delay she waited a long time before going to the medic to examine her, wanting to make sure she was not wrong in her assumptions. He, however, had no doubts.

"You are carrying a child in your womb, my Queen."

She decided that she must inform her husband immediately, personally, disregarding the fact that a council of his closest advisors was currently taking place, during which he insisted that no one should disturb them.

"My Queen, you cannot walk inside now." Said one of the guards.

Over the months after their marriage, her husband's followers slowly began to trust her and no longer referred to her with such coldness, however, her husband's will was paramount to them, and they feared nothing more than his wrath.

"Open the door. I must convey a message to the King that cannot wait." She said gravely, looking at them with her hands folded in front of her.

The men looked at each other uncertainly; the one she spoke to sighed heavily and with a clack of armour walked to the door, opening it. Her king-husband fell silent in mid-sentence, looking at her angrily as she stepped inside and bowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at his guard with exasperation.

"I ordered that no one should disturb us."

"I must convey something important to you in private, my King. It is a matter of urgency." She said in a calm, confident tone, looking straight into her husband's face.

She saw him roll his eyes as he let out an impatient breath; he bited his lower lip and dismissed the men seated around the table with a gesture of his hand. They began to get up in silence, tense, leaving one by one until they were left alone.

"Speak." He said in an impatient, sharp tone, looking somewhere off to the side, tapping his pointing finger against the table top.

She approached him unhurriedly, saw him lift his gaze to her in which lurked a threat, telling her that if it turned out to be nothing important, he would lose his temper.

"I carry your inheritance in my womb, my King." She said softly, unable to hold back a shy smile, heat spreading through her heart as she saw his shocked look fall from her face to her lower abdomen where she held her hands, his lips parted in disbelief as if he had run out of words.

"… are you sure? Has you been examined by…"

"I've just been to the medic. I had suspected it for weeks, but I preferred to wait and be absolutely sure."

She heard him swallow loudly, saw his chest rise and fall in deeper breaths, his gaze fixed on her stomach. Wanting to embolden him, she gently grasped his wrist lying on the armrest of his chair and placed his hand where her womb was, stroking his skin with her thumb.

He sighed quietly, massaging her skin hidden beneath the material of her gown with his fingers, his gaze softened, the rage evaporating from him, replaced by shy disbelief.

He finally lifted his gaze to her and drew her to him − she fell into his lap, letting his wet, warm lips press against hers in a loud, sticky kiss. She sighed quietly in satisfaction and reciprocated his caress, pulling away from him, taking his cheeks in her hands.

"Does my King resent my interfering with his council?" She asked quietly, his hand from her waist involuntarily wandering to her womb again, as if he couldn't believe that at last the gods had blessed them with something they wanted so badly.

"No. You have pleased me with your words, wife." He hummed softly, his voice calm and warm, the way it usually was when they lay in the night snuggled into each other, tired and raspy from exertion and fulfilment.

She leaned into him and kissed his forehead, heard him purr contentedly.

"That is all I had to share with you, my King. With your permission." She said slipping out of his arms, wanting to get up, but she felt his shoulders clench tighter around her instead of letting her go, his cock throbbing beneath her with impatience.

"We cannot, my King. Your advisors are waiting." She whispered, looking at him calmly, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his pupil dilated, his irises almost black.

He answered nothing, his hands lifting her gown higher with an eager, sharp movement, forcing her to sit on top of him again − she sighed quietly unable to hide a smile of satisfaction.

When he saw this he clamped his hand painfully tight on her hair and forced her lips to cling to his again in an aggressive, roguish kiss − she grasped his cheeks in her fingers, stroking them with her thumbs.

He murmured contentedly and, wasting no time, undid the buckles of his tunic, then reached down to untie his breeches, sliding them down just enough to release his throbbing, swollen erection.

A low, surprised moan of delight erupted from his throat as she immediately grasped his length in her hand and directed it between her thighs, lowering herself onto it with a quiet sigh of pleasure. He leaned his head back resting it on the backrest, closing his healthy eye for a moment, a quiet, throaty fuck erupted from his lips.

They both began to pant as she began to slowly rise and fall on top of him, his large hands slipped under her gown and squeezed her bare buttocks impatiently, forcing her to speed up, the thrusts of his hips stretching her tight, fleshy walls with his hard, throbbing manhood.

She stroked his cheek and entwined her fingers in his soft white hair leaning over him, placing tender kisses full of devotion, desire and passion on his lips, her mouth wet and hot, a low, wonderful moan of delight escaping from his throat, his cock twitching with pleasure inside her.

"− don't stop − don't fucking stop − your King wants to fill you −" He hissed out between thirsty, deep, loud kisses, stifling their loud panting and moans as they did so, his chair creaking loudly each time she sank down on top of him, rubbing herself with it so that the fat head of his cock teased a wonderful spot deep inside her.

"− who am I to defy my King's command − my King can come inside me as many times as he wants −" She muttered sweetly, softly, feeling a shudder run through him, a sigh escaped his from his parted lips pressed against hers − she felt him throbbing inside her like crazy, her fleshy, hot walls clenched around him and sucked him in.

"− I − yes, fuck, oh godsss −" He gasped apparently struggling to restrain himself not to come, wanting to prolong this moment, but he gave in at last with a sigh of relief, pressing his face against hers, her fingers stroking his cheeks as she felt his seed fill her.

She felt his hand from her hip rise to her face and run through her hair, sliding down her neck, a pleasant shiver passed through her. They kissed lazily a few more times, calming their breathing and he finally pulled away from her with an expression of satisfaction, holding her chin between his fingers.

"You may leave, my wife." He hummed lowly. She smiled at his words and rose, feeling strangely empty as his manhood slid out from her with a loud splat. She adjusted her gown hearing him quickly tie his breeches, reaching for the buckles of his tunic and bowed humbly, no longer looking at him.

"My King."

She turned and walked out, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor where men stood waiting for them to finish their conversation, looking at her with furrowed brows. She suspected they knew exactly what they were doing.

She could feel his spend running down her thighs.

She knew they were jealous that he had allowed her to be so close, where every one of them dreamed of being his most trusted advisor.

She figured she wouldn't give them any reason to gossip and spread the opinion that she had become a queen by sneaking into his bed.

"Rejoice, my good lords. There is an heir to the throne in my womb." She said softly with a sincere smile of satisfaction, the men looked at her in disbelief and then at her abdomen.

Some seemed very pleased by this news, others only nodded, others seemed worried.

Until she bore the King an heir they believed that he would change his mind and divorce her, taking one of some lord's daughters as his wife.

However, they each offered her congratulations before entering the chamber, which they also repeated towards the King, who only nodded at their words, looking straight at her from across the table.

A living fire burning in his eye.

If it had seemed to her until now that her husband was obsessed with her, this impression was intensified further after passing on to him the joyful news that she was expecting his heir.

That night he took her gently and tenderly, first showering her with adoringly soft, wet kisses all over her naked body only to slide then between her thighs, sinking his tongue deep inside her, allowing her to reach her peak on his face.

He spent a long hour this way, licking her, teasing and sucking her pearl, tearing out of her fulfillment after fulfillment, watching with a smirk full of satisfaction as she wriggled beneath him in despair, babbling that she could take no more, that it was too much.

It seemed to her that what she was saying was having the opposite effect, the tip of his nose ran over her leaking womanhood again making her shiver.

"− you have made your husband happy today, sweet wife − I only wish to express my gratitude −"

From now on she could bother him at any time, of course, if the need was urgent or concerned their child.

He ordered the fruits she so adored to be brought to the fortress from the farthest reaches of the kingdom, and although she told him it was an unnecessary expense, he did not listen to her, recognising that it was his duty as her husband to provide her with everything he felt she needed in her blessed condition.

In the evenings, even when he was reading he longed to be close to her, so instead of sitting in his chair by the fireplace as usual, he would sit on the chaise longue, leaning back comfortably.

She would then come to him with a thick cloth in which she enveloped herself, not wanting to get cold in her nightgown alone, and lay down beside him, hugging the top of her head to his hip. His hand immediately moved to her shoulder, which he stroked in a steady, tender motion, flipping the page of the book lying on his thighs with a loud rustle.

Her pregnancy had been a huge trial for them, her belly swollen from his child had made her suffer, her back aching unmercifully, vexed by hot, dry nights during which she squirmed and could not sleep.

Although the medic had announced that he should not take her into his bed during the course of her pregnancy, she could not imagine having to wait so many months without touching him.

He did not seem enthused by the idea either, so they met in his chamber like parted lovers.

He was gentler towards her, the thrusts of his hips softer and more tender − he didn't want to hurt her or their child, his hand clenched on her womb as he root into her from behind, panting loudly, saying that he would stop soon, that just a moment more.

One time she was so hot that she couldn't sleep and she decided to sneak out of his chamber, not wanting to wake him up again, knowing that he couldn't sleep because of her. He never complained about it, however, she knew that he had trouble concentrating, the thought of her impending labour putting him in a constant state of anxiety and worry.

He was afraid.

She breathed heavily in relief as she stepped into her chamber, stroking her abdomen, feeling her child wriggling in her womb, thinking about the fact that only a few more months and it would be over.

She lay down in her bed, which had previously been her mother's chamber, and before that, Queen Alicent's. She thought of the underground shelter beneath her, of her husband having spent several days there.

He had told her about it one night when they lay tired, the healed wound in his eye socket sometimes causing him pain and the medic then had to pull out the sapphire that was placed there to apply ointment.

It turned out that the polished stone rubbed him and created small wounds that oozed and then caused him great discomfort.

"My Queen, the King should not wear this stone in his eye socket nor his eye patch for the next few weeks. He, however, insists on only taking a break for a few days until the ointment takes effect. I beg you to speak his mind, he will listen to you." Said a man in a simple brown robe, as she understood, one of the monks who had once saved her husband's life.

She nodded and walkend into his chamber − he sat in a chair leaning to one side, his black eye patch on his head, his hand massaging his temple, his face expressing discomfort and fatigue.

He looked at her sleepily and she thought immediately that the medic had given him poppy milk, which meant that his pain was so severe that he had decided to stupefy his senses, though he always kept his mind as sharp and focused as possible.

She approached him, sighing quietly, with a face expressing genuine concern − she took his hand in hers and stroked it with her thumb, but said nothing.

She knew that the last thing he wanted from her was pity and he would have preferred them to pretend that there was no subject, however, this time the matter was too serious for her to leave it out without a word.

"I was told by the medic that in order for your wounds to heal properly, you should not wear your eye patch at night so that your skin can rest and regenerate on its own." She said in a soft whisper, stroking his hand with her fingers. She felt him tense up all over; he turned his head away in impatience, showing her that he had no intention of discussing it with her.

"We'll cover the windows with curtains if you wish." She added, wanting to convince him if he wanted so badly for her not to see him without his sapphire, that there was a way.

"No." He replied roughly, even though his head was facing her sideways his eye was looking in her direction.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that ever since they had been married he had always left a single candle lit next to their bed when they went to sleep, his proof that his days of being locked away in endless darkness were over.

"I carry your heir under my heart, the medics think I need to get enough sleep and avoid worry. How can I manage this when I see my king-husband suffering through no fault of his own and making his condition worse for me? Let us draw the curtains."

"You will not keep your word. Just as you did then." He said coldly, turning his face towards the burning fireplace.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, her heart pounding harder in her chest as she realised he was speaking about when, while he was still her guardian, she had opened her eyes before he left even though she had promised him she would not do such thing.

"You knew everything about me then and I knew nothing about you. Now you are my husband and as always I will respect your will. I swear it on our child." She said calmly and slowly, wanting him to know that her words were sincere and serious.

She saw his jaw clench as he swallowed loudly and squeezed his eye shut, she knew that a wave of pain was running through his head again. He covered his face with his hand in a gesture of surrender.

"I won't forgive you if you don't keep your word." He said lowly; she knelt beside him, laying her head on his thigh, reaching with her palm to his hand extended on the armrest of his chair.

"I will keep my word, my love. Let's go to sleep."

As promised, this time it was she who drew the curtains, one by one, making the entire chamber fall into complete darkness. Walking back to their bed she had to walk slowly with her hands stretched out in front of her, not wanting to hit anything − she hissed when she bumped her knee on the small table, she heard him rise on the bed.

"Did you hurt yourself? Come here." He said impatiently − she felt his hand grab her arm and lead her straight to the bed. She landed in his arms and kissed him, however instead of a sigh of delight she heard his muffled sound of discomfort and pain.

She reached in the dark for his eye patch and pulled it gently off his head − she could hear him breathing loudly, his hand clenched tightly on the material of her nightgown.

"You see me." He said reproachfully, pained, his voice breaking as he spoke the words in such a way that she felt a sting in her heart.

"I can't see anything, my love. I swear, it's too dark." She whispered softly and ran her fingers over his healthy cheek, a powerful shudder went through her when she felt it was wet, after a moment she felt another tear run down between them.

He was crying.

This realisation shocked her so much that for a moment she didn't know what to say, her throat squeezed so tightly it made her ache.

"− my beloved husband − please, don't despair −" She mumbled in a trembling voice, stroking his hair as if he were a small child. She felt his strong arms tighten around her and pull her closer − she snuggled her face into his neck, her hand placed on his bare chest just above his heart.

He closed her in a tight embrace, stroking her back and hands − she heard him sigh heavily, as if he was trying to get something out of himself but was unable to.

"Since you have been my wife, there has always been at least one candle lit in my chamber." He uttered without strength; she lift her hand again and stroked his cheek, hushing him, pressing her forehead against his jaw, his fingers tightening on her hair.

"I will be your light this night and every night that follows, for as long as it takes, my love." She said softly. She heard him swallow loudly, letting the air out with a heavy sigh, desperate.

"Embrace me through the night, sweet wife. Don't let me out of your arms."

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I'm ending this series here because we've reached what I wanted, which is an openness and vulnerability that brings them completely closer together. I didn't want to suggest to the fans what would happen next, whether a girl or a boy would be born, or maybe a tragedy would happen to them? In my mind, they have six children, exactly the number Alys predicted, but all of them are born from his queen wife. They ruled bloodily, justly and indivisibly, trusting only themselves, their relationship on the verge of obsession caused general terror, and was a source of jealousy for others.

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Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

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seeingivy · 10 months

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the time of your life

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: character death (LOL), very immature fifteen year old humor (that was cross confirmed with real fifteen year olds), idk reader and eren being mad corny

an: tried my best to make this chapter fun but I will just POST WHAT I HAVE BUT THE NEXT ONE IS ONE OF MY FAVS IM SO EXCITED

previous part linked here

Things settle down after the panel, and Eren convinces you to put all your energy into finishing the season. Because you’re going to prove them wrong and now you just have to do it. And as much effort as you put in, the rest of them all make it fun too.

And Eren’s right.

They really are great - funny, charismatic, and idiotic in their own ways.

The inside jokes start one week after filming when you’ve finally learned everyone’s names. And, of course, it starts with Reiner. You and Historia are so tired after filming that you quickly run back to the townhouse just to get snacks from the main kitchen. With the mention of food, Sasha’s following, and then Connie, suddenly, everyone’s marching back together.

Except when you get there, Reiner is in the kitchen. Not only is he shirtless, but he’s also doing some next-level opera singing. For some reason, he’s trying to sing both parts of the Phantom of the Opera and… actually succeeding?

Connie leans over, whispering.

“Look at those mommy milkers.”

You all burst out laughing, which stops Reiner in his tracks. And he momentarily stops and scratches his head before he keeps singing, this time serenading all of you. He’s taking Ymir by the hand and swinging her around and holding hands with Jean as they rock back and forth that even Mikasa’s snorting at the sight of him. You're all sold after that.

Speaking of Mikasa, as solemn and quiet as she can be, she’s gotten you into quite a bit of trouble. Trouble meaning severe back pain. When she first moved into your room, she mentioned that she was a bit of an early riser. She likes to work out to get her blood moving before shooting, claiming that “it gets her in the zone.”

Somehow, she convinces you and Sasha to join her one morning, and by the end of it, Jean and Marco are dragging you both back to the house by your legs, having to shove the two of you in an ice bath.

You just didn’t realize that an early riser meant four in the morning, and working out means an all-intensive full-body press. Levi’s pissed at you and Sasha for being stupid enough to think you could keep up and you’re both mad at Levi for having such little faith in you.

In true dad fashion, Levi’s always lecturing you guys. More like pretending to be mad, berating you around the set. But you know that he cares because the second that you guys ask him for something, no matter how stupid it is, he’ll be the first to give in.

Exhibit A? Marco and Jean recently find out that Levi became a triple threat from doing his own stunts on Bond - including a quadruple flip. They’re both so intrigued by it that every time they see Levi, they force him to do it.

“Levi.”

“No, Marco. I’m not going to do a flip.”

“Do a flip! Levi, please please please please please do a flip. It’s just so fucking cool.”

“Watch your language, Jean. You need to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“I won’t say fuck for a week if you flip, Levi. Please!” Jean says, shaking Levi’s hands as he talks.

Levi begrudgingly rolls his eyes and then backflips in the living room, earning half hearted cheers. It was cool the first eleven times, but Jean literally asks him to do it daily. It gets old fast.

“That was so fucking cool, Levi! Thanks.” Jean says, running off. He bumps into Sasha, who's clearly going to throw up as she runs past.

Levi’s sick and tired of Jean. And Hange too. And himself for thinking that filming with a bunch of teenagers was going to be a good idea.

After finding out that Sasha will quite literally eat anything you put in front of her, Hange’s started a dangerously horrible game of seeing what Sasha will eat without paying attention to it.

Ketchup on watermelon, ice cream with salt in it, cake with mayo. It’s become so disgusting that you can’t tell who people are more grossed out with - Hange for making the concoction or Sasha for eating it. (It’s Sasha)

Armin’s taken maybe twenty before and after pictures of Sasha during these “experiments” that Hange runs and then sticks them onto the kitchen wall - perfectly labeled with the food Sasha ate underneath them.

And he loves taking pictures so much that there’s now a big wall at the front of the set of just individual and group pictures, Armin’s little pictures and commentary tacked to the wall.

One of Jean and Sasha playing video games, labeled “the great war”

Another one of Ymir and Bertholdt tackling each other, labeled “ice cream gate”

And one of Eren pinching your cheek, labeled “the l/n-jaegers”

Right. In another life, you’re all convinced that Connie was destined to work for the paparazzi. Because every time you and Eren are together, he somehow manages to capture a picture at the worst time - making something innocent look like totally not.

Like when you and Eren share a blanket on set because there’s only one left. Or when he helps you put the harnesses on and his hands are around your waist for two seconds . When you guys share the breakfast burritos on set because they’re too big to eat alone. With context, they’re not that bad.

But Connie always catches it at the worst time and then posts it to his fucking TikTok account. His stupid series has garnered millions of views, and you’ve both tried to convince him to stop, to which he refuses

And when you tried to get Erwin involved, he only supported Connie more - stating it was good press for the show. He’s named the series “the l/n-jaegers” hence the label on the polaroid.

There’s currently 32 different parts.

But you know you can’t stop him even if you tried because Connie proves to be the most menacing idiot on set. Him and Annie have developed a horrible habit of pranking everyone on around - Levi, Hange, and Erwin specifically. It’s not that Annie loves pranks, she’s just the only one who can keep a straight face.

“Hey Hange.”

“What’s up, Annie?”

“There’s this guy who works in hair and makeup. He has a few ideas for the Female Titan costume design. He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh. What’s his name?”

“Ben Dover.” responds Connie, the look on his and Annie’s faces blank.

“Ben Dover?” Hange repeats the rest of you, trying you shoving your faces into the script to stop laughing as they respond.

“Yeah. They said they’ve talked to Erwin before. He’s been working with Hugh Jass, on the makeup team.” says Annie.

Erwin walks over, the look on his face confused. And it just gets worse.

“Who is Hugh Jass? I’ve never seen him before.”

“Oh, he’s hard to miss. Really big guy,” responds Connie, his face breaking a little.

Levi walks over, and when Annie talks again, it’s the final nail in the coffin. You and Eren are literally smacking your hands over each other's mouths, the tears spilling out of your eyes to not give them away.

“Okay, we’ll go over there now. Thanks for telling us Annie, Connie.”

“Cool! They’re waiting with Ben Overbich.”

“What?”

“Ben Overbich. It’s Swedish, sir.” Annie responds.

Levi shrugs as he, Hange, and Erwin walk off to go to talk to the costume designers. And when they all walk away, you’re all panting on the floor, gasping for breath. Connie keeps mimicking Erwin, saying Hugh Jass, and Berholdt keeps quoting it’s Swedish sir, which doesn’t make it any better.

When they return, Levi and Erwin are all yanking you by the ears onto the set since the costume team told them what the jokes actually meant. And there’s something so presidential about Erwin naturally that when he starts lecturing you, it starts feeling like he’s giving a sermon.

“You guys are premier faces in the industry. Imagine how people would feel if they found out you were making crude jokes like you were fifteen years old.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, Ymir.”

“We are fifteen years old.”

You’re all snickering as Erwin continues, Hange rolling their eyes as he goes on.

“You should know better. Ben Dover is not a funny joke. Huge asses are nothing to laugh about. You should wish to have that type of issue.”

Jean leans over, whispering in yours and Eren’s ear.

“The divine truths of humanity.”

You laugh and Erwin stares you down, Eren smacking you for laughing out loud.

“Y/N. Up.”

You groan as stand next to him, the lot of them laughing at you, as Erwin stares you down.

“Erwin.”

“Y/N. What did you learn in class yesterday?”

“Uh. States and capitals?”

“Perfect. Name them all.”

You groan. Of course, you get stuck with Erwin and his weird punishments. He always quizzes you guys on random stuff from your classes when you take too long on set or are late to a table read. And you’re usually free from that, but Jean’s stupid comment got you.

“Uh. Okay. California is Los Angeles.”

“Wrong. It’s Sacramento.”

“I’m Canadian, Erwin. This isn’t even fair.”

He shakes his head dismissively as you keep going, literally getting every single one wrong. And when you reach the fifth incorrect state, Eren takes his stand, helping you with the rest of them.

“Eren. No one asked you if you knew the states and capitals.” Erwin says, pinching both of your ears as they all laugh.

“Can’t leave my girl hanging here.”

“Your girl?” repeats Connie and the rest of them widen their eyes, leaving you and Eren to be met with a bunch of “oohs” and “aahs”

Which only flusters Eren even more. And makes your cheeks burn.

“That’s-that’s not what I meant! It’s because we’re co-stars! Like the leads, that’s why she’s my girl! Not any weird reason.” Eren stammers, the tips of his ears pink and his eyes not meeting yours.

No one believes him.

“Eren.”

“Hm.”

“Hot sauce.”

He leans over in the chair, opening the packet of hot sauce and handing it to you. The crew got breakfast burritos again , meaning you and Eren were slouched up in your chairs eating. The scene that was being filmed was primarily a scene for Jean and Marco, but you and Eren always love to watch everyone else act.

There’s something about the energy on set - Levi directing everyone around, everyone getting in the zone that gets you excited. All jittery and nervous and thrilled that people are going to see this amazing thing that is airing in a few weeks.

You hand Eren the burrito and he instinctively reaches forward, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. His green eyes focused on your lips and you can feel your heart rising into your throat.

“Eren.”

He looks up, right into your eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, my bad. You had some sauce on your lip.”

And then he takes the excess sauce and licks it off his finger.

“Did you just-”

“Y/N, be quiet. They’re starting.”

You try your best to focus on the scene but all you can think about is yours and Eren’s knees bumping against each other, your fingers brushing across as you share the food, and Eren licking the sauce off of his finger. You try to brush it off as you lean over and whisper into his space.

“What scene is this, Eren?”

“Don’t remember. I was so busy trying to check my own lines I forgot to read ahead.”

You nod as Eren scoots closer, the two of you leaning forward as you start paying attention to the scene. Jeans walks closer and that’s when you realize it - Marco leaning against the wall, all charred and slumped over.

“Hey. Are you…. Marco?” Jean whispers, his voice shaking.

Eren instinctively reaches for your hand, crushing it in his hold. You look over to find Sasha and Bertholdt giving you the same confused looks as you all keep watching, Jean acting on. It seems like no one read the scene before watching it.

Jean’s a good actor. Such a good actor that you think he’s actually crying, that his voice is actually wavering. And that’s when you realize it.

Marco just died.

Your mind is running at a million miles per hour. Does that mean he’s leaving? He’s not going to be in the show anymore? You guys were all supposed to spend four or five years together filming together, but how is that fair if he’s already dead? That isn’t even an entire season-

Eren’s squeezing your hand into oblivion as the tears are falling out of his eyes, his face looking all types of broken as you glance over.

“Member of the 104th Cadet Corps and Captain of Squad 19… Marco Bodt.”

The director calls cut and the crew starts moving around, Jean helping Marco up from the ground as he brushes the tears out of his eyes. And when you catch sight of Erwin, you’re blazing fire angry. And it seems like you’re not the only one, because Ymir and Mikasa are following your suit.

“Erwin. What the hell?” you say.

Erwin and Levi look down at the three of you, confused.

“You can’t just kill Marco! That’s not fair, the show hasn’t even started yet and you already killed him off.” Reiner says, crossing his arms.

“Erwin. Cut it out of the show. You can’t do this.” Mikasa responds, glaring at him.

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose as he bends down, Erwin joining him so you’re all level heights. For some reason, angry tears are building in your eyes and your chest is burning, because…you miss Marco. And he’s not even gone yet. And it’s not fair that he died so soon and his character is all but sweet, so why does he have to die and-

Levi places his hands on yours and Reiner’s shoulders as he talks, his voice soft.

“Are you guys upset that he’s going to be leaving?”

You all nod, the tears finally flowing out of your eyes and streaming down. You can see that Reiner’s crying too, Mikasa swallowing her own tears.

“Yeah. Erwin, Levi he’s our friend. And I’ve never really had friends like this and I don’t want him to go away and-” you choke out, stammering on your words.

Levi squeezes your shoulder as you hiccup and Erwin leans forward to press all three of you in a hug. Levi’s hands are in your hair, whispering something under his breath about how you’re all sweet kids.

They both let you go and you look over to find Marco, still in his death makeup, hugging Eren, who has tears streaming down his eyes too. And when you walk over, Marco opens up his other arm, you and Eren and Jean and almost everyone crushing him into a hug, the discomfort sitting in your chest.

As you all trail back to the townhouse after set, quiet for once, you’re all milling around the main room, aimlessly. You and Armin are playing a very underwhelming game of Uno, Reiner and Marco half-assedly playing Mario Kart, and Mikasa’s teaching Ymir how to braid her hair.

Hange walks in and plops down between you and Armin, the polaroid camera in her hand.

“Hey, you guys.”

“Hi Hange.” you both mutter, flipping the cards down.

“Got an idea. You know, this shows kind of… dramatic . A lot more of the characters are going to die, but it doesn’t have to be a sad thing.”

“It is sad. That means Marco’s leaving and we won’t see him anymore.” you say, boring your eyes into Hange’s.

They lean forward to pinch your cheek, softly laughing as they continue talking.

“You’re so sweet. He’ll be back to film other scenes, yeah? And you’ll definitely see him again.”

You both nod, agreeing with Hange. They hand the camera to Armin, whispering the plan in his ears and then duck out of the hallway. And when you and Armin have everything you need - the industrial box of Rocky Road ice cream and the camera - you head to the center of the room, Armin standing on the couch to get everyone’s attention.

“When you fall off, I’m going to fucking laugh at you, Arlert.” says Ymir, looking up from braiding Sasha’s hair.

“Shut up, Ymir. Listen, we should make a deal. Every time a character dies, we all eat ice cream. Play games, stay up late, and then at the end of the night we’ll add their picture to the wall. So we don’t forget them . Like, one last hurrah or whatever. ” Armin says.

“You sound like Hange.” Annie mutters, flicking Reiner in the forehead.

“It was their idea. But we should. If Marco’s leaving in a few days, I want to spend all the time I can with him, having fun and-”

“Yeah. I want to.” says Marco, which has almost all of you agreeing.

You and Armin start by opening the tub of ice cream, all eleven of you refusing to get bowls and instead leaning over, bumping heads as you eat.

“Eren. Move your big head.”

“Shut the fuck up Connie. Your bald head is bigger than mine.”

You all start snickering as the two of them argue, smacking each other and rolling off the couch. And when Marco suggests that you play truth or dare, you all start nervously giggling as you go around the circle, all jittery from the sugar in the ice cream.

Reiner asks Connie to share the last dream that he had, which he begrudgingly shares is that he kissed Ymir. Ymir is thoroughly disgusted. Historia gets dared to call Erwin dad by accident, which just leads to Erwin giving Historia a lecture about how he appreciates that she can see him as a father figure and that he is already very proud of all of the work Historia has put in.

Bertholdt has to eat a spoonful of mayo, which he consequently throws up and Armin gets dared to steal something from the set. He takes Levi’s coffee cup and hides it in the storage room, which he is sure to get an earful for later.

“Eren. Truth or Dare?” Connie asks.

“Dare.”

“Kiss your favorite person in the room on the cheek.”

They all start giggling as they stare you down, your cheeks burning at the thought of Eren pressing his lips to yours. Connie and Bertholdt are making kissy faces at you, Ymir and Annie leaning over to pinch your cheeks.

And you brace yourself, for when Eren’s going to press his lips into your skin. Except he doesn’t. He leans over and kisses Armin on the cheek and you try your best to hide your…disappointment? Sadness? But that’s on you.

Why would you assume you’re Eren’s favorite person on set?

Everyone boos at Eren for picking a copout answer and you pretend not to be offended as you keep playing the game. And on hour two of playing, Levi comes and yells at you all to shut the fuck up and go to bed , which leads to Armin taking the picture of Marco - all cheesing and smiley and tacking it to the wall. Connie takes a sharpie and labels the wall “fly high angel” to mark the occasion.

Except his dumbass writes angle instead of angel.

You all shuffle back to your rooms, giggling and laughing, and you and Eren giving each other a smile as you switch into your respective rooms.

You hear a knock on your door and instantly jump up, ready to duck out of set to go get slushies with Eren. Except when you swing the door open, Jean’s standing at your store instead of Eren.

“Oh. Hi Jean.”

“Hi…is-”

“She’s in the shower. You’re welcome to wait for her here if you’d like?”

You swing the door open and he flops onto Mikasa’s bed, watching your fan spin around on the ceiling.

You’re not sure what it is or why Jean and Mikasa are assuaged from the barrage of teasing and cooing that you and Eren get whenever you’re around each other, because you’re almost a thousand percent sure that the two of them are worse than you and Eren.

Because they actually like each other. You’ve often come home from filming or playing games with Bertholdt and Historia to find the two of them sitting on the floor, holding hands while watching a movie. Or Jean giving Mikasa bracelets or telling her that he thinks she’s really pretty.

Maybe they’re not paying attention and that the only person who knows is you. Or maybe it’s because they don’t turn red or deny their feelings, because they actually like each other. You and Eren aren’t like that, because in earnest, you two really are just friends.

“You okay? Your room must be pretty empty.”

Marco moved out earlier today. Not a single dry eye in the room.

“Yeah, that’s kinda why I came. Sometimes it just feels kind of lonely, but I think Levi and Erwin might move someone in with me or put me with Connie or something.”

“That’s nice. It’ll be fun to have a roommate.”

He nods, cracking his fingers as the shower runs behind the two of you.

“Hey Jean.”

“Hm.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

You sit up, hopping off your desk chair and onto the bed where Jean was sitting. He’s leaned back against Mikasa’s perfectly propped pillows, lazily swinging the charm of his necklace back and forth on the chain.

“How do you know you like Mikasa?”

He looks up from his chain, giving you an inquisitive look, before answering.

“Dunno. I like being around her. Like, whenever I’m in a room, the person I want to be next to is her. Or the first person I tell good news to and I want her to know like…random things about me. My moms name, my first pet, how I hate my first grade teacher. I just like to share things with her. Like how it feels when I'm with her you know - like...like that's Mikasa. She's my girlfriend."

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.”

He nods, plopping back down on her pillows and twisting the chain in his hands again.

You halfheartedly nod as Mikasa rolls out of the bathroom, giving you two smiles as she takes the seat next to Jean. You give the two of them a smile as you pad out of the room and straight into Eren and Armin’s across.

“Hi. Mind if I sit? Jean and Mika are-”

“Sure.” Eren says, scooting over on his bed and patting on the sheets.

“Where’s Min?”

“Ah. With Erwin. I think he’s taking the Marco thing kind of hard.”

You nod, shuffling on the bed as Eren shuts his laptop, leaning back onto the headboard.

“Are you okay, Eren? With him being gone?”

“Feels weird. It kind of just makes me nervous for who else will leave us, you know?”

Us.

“Yeah.”

Eren tangles his hand with yours at your side, taking turns cracking each of the knuckles on your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder why they tease us so much? For being friends?”

He angles his head over, the wisps of his brown hair tickling on your forehead.

“Like. Mikasa and Jean really like each other. They’re always holding hands in my room and-”

“What? They like each other?”

“I think so. I don’t know, they’ve never really hid it from me.”

“Well, you’re sweet. You’d never make fun of them for that. I had no idea that they liked each other. They’re probably just not outward with it in front of everyone else.”

“And we aren’t outward with anything. I don’t know, we just act normal and they’re always like saying this stuff about how you and I-”

“Y/N.”

You stop talking as he squeezes your hand three times, almost like a little knock signaling you to stop talking.

“I think they just… don’t get us. You and I are special. I just feel like I’ve known you forever and that we really fit together and I think they can sense that or something. And they think it’s romantic even if it’s not, you know?”

“Yeah.”

He squeezes your hand three more times, the words knocking through your head. Special. Fit together. Not romantic. He leans over, green eyes staring into yours.

“You and me. Always?”

You nod, swallowing hard as you lean back.

“Plus. They can’t kill us off. We’re the main characters.”

You shuffle in your seat as the director yells action, as you look down at Eren, tied up against the post in the middle of the set. You’re filming the scene where Levi is supposed to just kick Eren’s ass in the middle of the court, to prove to the other characters that they can control him and his titan powers.

Except you’re on your fifth take of this scene, Eren getting increasingly frustrated because Levi’s been yelling at him all morning, claiming that he isn’t acting good enough for the scene. Levi’s a bit of a perfectionist, meaning he won’t let anyone leave until the scene is perfect the way he wants it.

Eren especially. You could always tell that Levi was always more fond of Eren than everyone else, but you never thought that would mean Levi would be extra harsh on him. Which is clearly just pissing Eren off today.

“Maybe we should dissect her just in case!”

“Wait. Maybe I am a monster, but she has nothing to do with that! Nothing at all!” Eren screams, his voice straining and his eyes pinching shut as he wrestles against the handcuffs.

“As if we could believe you!”

“It’s a fact!”

“You’re defending her? She must be one of you!”

“No!”

Levi stomps into the middle of the set, leaning down and getting level with Eren. And then he starts yelling at him.

“Eren. You can do so much better than that. You have to give it your all or this isn’t going to work.”

“I am giving it my all. You’ve had me working for five hours now and I-”

“So? You have to get used to that type of time commitment if you want to be the best like you said you did and-”

Eren and Levi keep going back and forth, Hange signaling at you from the back of the set as you both arise from your chairs, leaning down to meet them.

“Levi. Go easy on him, we’ve been-” Hange starts,

“No. He can do better than this and I know he can. He just doesn’t want to. If he would just put in a little effort, it would be better.”

“Levi, maybe you’re being too harsh on him-” you start.

Levi rolls his eyes as he stands up, calling for a break as you unhook Eren from the post. The second you unlock him, he storms off straight off of the set.

“Hange.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you take a longer break from us? I’ll talk to him.”

“I’ll talk to Levi. He just…he knows Eren can be really good. That he has potential. He’s just trying to get him there faster because he wants Eren to do well.”

“I know, Hange.”

You shoot them a smile as you run into the storage closet, yanking out the tandem bike and heading to find Eren.

You kick the rocks in front of you as you hand Eren the slushie, anxiously looking over at him. He’s still radiating anger, from the way his shoulders are tense and how his knuckles are nearly white against the cup. The two of you biked in silence and even the cashier could tell Eren was having some type of fit today.

“Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs as he leans into your touch, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I just-I’m trying really hard to get it. And Levi’s always just so hard on me, I can’t even tell if I’m doing a good job or if I can do this or-”

You reach down, crushing his hand in your hold, as you respond.

“Eren. You’re doing a really great job. Even Levi thinks that. He just… he knows you’re great and he’s trying to tap into that.”

“I know, it just makes me wonder sometimes if I’m cut out for this. Or that Best Actor savant that I-”

“Eren. You’re going to get it. I know that for a fact. It might not be this season or the next, but you will get it. You’re- you’re literally amazing, I just know you’ll be one of the best of our generation and-”

“You’re just saying that because-”

“I’m not! I really do think that, I- I’d even bet on it for you. You’re the best person for this role and you’re perfect for it and in general too and I just think you should be more confid-”

“Y/N, I-”

“Like really, I think you have the chops to be great. I can’t even believe I have to be your costar because I am infinitely mediocre next to you when you’re just so amazing and already have so many credits and-”

You’re cut off by Eren’s lips on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. You reach up to the skin as you look over at him, positively bug eyed.

“You-why would y-”

“The other day. You are my favorite person on set. I just didn’t want them to make fun of us for it.”

“Oh. Right, I-”

“Finish the slushie. We’ll go back after.”

When you return, Eren finishes the scene in one take. And gets Levi’s golden stamp of approval.

When you and Eren film the last scene of the season, on your last day of shooting for a few months, you can’t help but feel a despair in your chest. Everyone else was already long gone, having given your wistful goodbyes and promises of keeping in touch until you come back to (hopefully) film the second season.

Which leaves you, Eren, Erwin, Levi, Hange, and the crew to film the last scene. The backstory of how you and Eren came to be, where he wraps the scarf around your neck.

While you love having everyone else around, it was nice to have a few days of just you and Eren, where you can soak in his company before you have to be apart for a few days. You make ramen together in the mornings, he teaches you how to play video games, and you talk about almost anything and everything in those three days.

And when you go to film the scene, the despair of being apart from him…from your best friend really settles in. You’re sure it makes the scene all the more better.

“It’s cold…. I don’t have anywhere to go home to.” you say.

Eren walks over, his voice uncharacteristically soft, so gentle when he wraps the scarf around your neck that it makes your cheeks burn.

“You can have this. It’s warm, right?”

Grisha walks forward, placing a hand on Eren’s shoulder as he says his line.

“Y/N. You should come live with us. You’ve been through plenty.”

And when you look at Eren, you can feel your heart beating as he says the next lines. And for some reason, this version of Eren feels less like the character Eren and more like the real Eren.

Your Eren. Tandem bikes, slushies, squeezing hands three times Eren.

He reaches forward, squeezing your hand three times like he was reading your fucking mind, as he says the next line. While he acts dismissive, you can see the warmth in his eyes, and it feels like something else. Like he’s trying to hint something at you, tell you something you can’t exactly pick up on.

“Come on. Let’s go back already. To our home.”

And when you squeeze Eren’s hand three times back and trail off out of the shot of the camera, you both smile at each other, Eren turning to face you.

“See you in a few months?”

“Yeah.”

“Call me every day?”

You roll your eyes as you reach over to flick his forehead, to which he pinches the sides of your waist. You squirm out of his hold, the feel of his fingers ticklish as you both laugh.

“Yes, Eren. I’ll call you every day.”

“Okay, good. Don’t forget me when you become famous overnight.”

“You’re so full of shit, Eren. That’s not going to happen.”

You’re totally wrong, for what it’s worth. The first episode of Attack on Titan airs on Friday. You and Eren start trending on Saturday.

next part linked here

taglist: @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @besenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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sassypossumm · 2 months

Text

Statues

Loki was content to sulk over a flute of Champagne, at least, that was until he got a taste of your presence

Loki tugged at his too tight tie for what felt like the hundredth time of the night. Clutching the champagne flute tighter in his grip, he wondered anew why on earth he'd agreed to attend this miserable excuse of an art auction. Oh, that's right, Thor had pestered him into it.

"Come, Loki, it's for such a good cause, the children. You know, those little people who don't pay taxes yet."

Loki shook his head at the recollection of Thor's words and took a sip of the sparkling champagne. At least no one tried to approach him, where he stood on the edge of the activity. Not that anyone would have attempted such a feat, with that foreboding scowl plastered on his face.

"At least one of us is enjoying themselves." He muttered to himself, deciding to venture further into the museum to check out the exhibits. Regardless of the circumstances, He had to admit that this was an expansive museum with rather well-maintained exhibits. Spying a stairwell, he took the stairs two at a time, and froze on the top step, taking in a sharp breath. Incandescent. That was the only word that came to mind. Standing in the center of the central wing was a compelling statue of two lovers embracing. Approaching the work of art, He circled it slowly, taking in the artistry with awe in his eyes.

"Orpheus and Eurydice." Loki tensed.

"Pardon me?" He whirled around, searching for the stranger accompanying the voice.

"Orpheus and Eurydice." Stepping out of the shadows, you folded your arms and jutted your chin towards the statue. "It's depicting the parting of Orpheus and Eurydice." Coming back from his momentary shock, Loki turned his attention back to the statue and folded his arms.

"She hardly serves as a descent representation for Eurydice; however, it's a fairly decent work." He said thoughtfully, stepping closer to examine the workmanship. "I don't recognize the artist." He glanced at you briefly.

"It's actually an in housework." Crossing the floor you stood at his side, looking up admiringly at the work. "Actually, several of the pieces on this level are inhouse works."

" You seem to have a pretty good understanding of the innerworkings of this museum." Loki turned his attention to you now. "You work here?"

"Oh, good heavens no!" You covered a snort with a warm smile and covered your mouth. Chancing a glance at him, you flushed and looked at the floor. He wasn't certain why such an innocuous action should cause his heart to flutter, but it did. Something about that little snort, and the shy smile that accompanied it struck him. Reminded him of a sunny spring day, the kind that when the wind hits you just right, even if you were walking through the heart of the palace, you just might swear you could smell honeysuckle on the breeze. And that self-depreciating flush rising up your neck wasn't helping matters any.

"Maybe I'm an apparition sent to haunt the poor mortals foolish enough to linger in the wings." You whispered, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Loki found himself fighting back a smirk of his own.

"Ala Phantom of the Opera or perhaps a siren beckoning wayward soldiers to their demises?" He couldn't help but tease back, shifting a bit closer. He knew he shouldn't have, but he took personal delight in the deep scarlet hue that rushed to your cheeks, and the slight dilation of your pupils. Okay, maybe he was doing more than teasing. You wet your bottom lip and cleared your throat.

"I always fancied myself more of a Melpomene." Something inside of you recoiled at your momentary boldness.

"Muse of tragedy?" He raised a brow at that. "Morbid choice."

"You know your Greek mythos, Mister..."

"Loki." He said simply with a shrug. "I'm fairly well versed in the ins and outs of the expansive Greeks mythos."

"No last name?" You raised a brow and smirked. His lips twitched.

"None." Folding his arms he raised a brow. "You're not going to ask for my rank and serial number next, are you?"

"Hardly, Mr. No surname."

"I assure you, Loki will suffice." He sighed.

"You hiding from the masses below too, Loki?" You eyed him knowingly and took a sip from your own champagne flute.

"What gave it away?" He chuckled, folding his arms.

"Oh, a recluse can always sense when a member of the tribe is in the general vicinity."

He cracked a smile at that. Albeit a small one, but a genuine one, nonetheless. You liked it when he smiled, you decided. It looked nice on him.

He caught your eye, and your mouth went dry. Loki had the most intense eyes you'd ever seen. It was more than the rich cerulean hue of them, there was a depth to his eyes. Soul. Heat. A tangible electricity that was impossible to look away from.

Sir Isaac Newton had been wrong. Surely, in that moment it wasn't gravity keeping you rooted to that spot. In front of the depiction of Orpheus grasping Eurydice for all he was worth, vainly striving to keep her from being dragged back into the Underworld, it was the magnetic pull of this man's eyes rather than some flimsy theory of gravity keeping you from being dragged under.

Certainly, staring like this wasn't normal. Right? People didn't just... stare at each other, did they? They certainly didn't imagine how lovely those intelligent eyes be looking up at them from between their...

Right then, you honestly didn't care what the normal societal conventions were. You weren't certain what was drawing you to this man who was practically a stranger, maybe it was his posture, the surety with which he stood, the sheer breadth of him, the fact that he owned the room despite saying nothing, okay, so you had a pretty good idea of why you were drawn to him. Regardless of whether you were being drawn in by a healthy sense of hero worship or... something more, in that moment you knew that if there was a black hole with his name on it, you'd gladly jump through that event horizon.

He was just about to ask for your name, and maybe even your number when,

"LOKI!" Closing his eyes, Loki groaned internally. Trust Thor to ruin a moment. "I've been looking everywhere for you, who you talking to?" Thor jogged up the last few steps, pausing to admire the statue. Loki turned to reluctantly introduce you, but you were gone. "Talking to yourself again?" He teased, clapping him soundly on the back.

"Of course not, you imbecile." Loki grumbled, pulling away. "I was talking to a," Pausing, he looked around, straining to see where you could've possibly disappeared to. "Lady."

"A lady?" Thor glanced around.

"She's not here now." He muttered. Thor didn't miss the subtle note of disappointment in his voice. Hoping to distract him, he clapped him on the shoulder again.

"They're about to put Steven's piece up for auction."

"Well, I'd hate to miss witnessing no one bid on that monstrosity." Loki said soberly.

"That's the spirit!"Thor rolled his eyes playfully and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him towards the stairs. He noted Loki glancing back at the statue. "Maybe you'll see your mystery woman again."

"I doubt it." He grumbled.

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki mcu #meet cute

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merakiui · 6 months

Note

could you tell us some of these ideas you have for malleus?

There are far too many thoughts... orz here are just a few that I have recently had.

✧ sleep paralysis demon malleus.

✧ a story in which you live at the edge of a forest that's slowly creeping closer and beginning to invade your property. and standing at the edge of the forest, unable to cross over, is a horned stranger dressed in a cloak of brambles. you try to voice your concerns to friends, but they won't believe you. you've been having trouble sleeping lately and you're starting to neglect your mental health, but you know you're not crazy. by the end of the month, you're certain the forest will swallow your quaint home whole. your only option to prevent that? investigate what it is the horned stranger could possibly want.

✧ phantom of the opera au with malleus as the phantom.

✧ idol group with malleus, idia, and azul and you're their manager. or maybe you're the fourth member being added to their ensemble. or maybe you're just a fan hehe. <3 either way, malleus is so whipped for you.

✧ this isn't exactly a malleus-centered thought, but you and sebek bond over your mutual admiration for malleus. you wish to get closer to malleus (because you love him) and sebek completely understands your desire to do so. who wouldn't want to associate themselves with someone as great as waka-sama!!!!!! but in helping you with this, sebek starts to grow romantically attached. he thinks he's dying because no ailment has ever made his heart beat this fast before. T_T malleus is distantly connected to this; essentially, cute love story between you and sebek. :D

✧ your kingdom and malleus's are at war and, in the midst of defeat, you're taken as a prisoner of war and forced to bear malleus's heir. <3 or you're simply forced into an arranged marriage. malleus wants to marry his enemy much to the utter shock of the kingdom, but no one will go against what their king wishes and so you are a captive spouse.

✧ befriending the kind dragon fae boy when you were young and offhandedly mentioning that you'd marry him when you were older. many years pass, the both of you grow and mature, and you've moved to another city to pursue work. one day, you receive a knock at your apartment door. standing there is the dragon fae with a ring and an entire royal entourage behind him. did you not remember the promise you made all that time ago? D: you're going to be wed now!

✧ king rollo and king malleus are at war and you're the poor royal stuck between them, as your kingdom is between both of theirs on the maps. orz and both of them want you to side with them, for they're both hopelessly infatuated with you. for extra drama: the three of you were inseparable childhood friends. >:)

✧ classic somnophilia thoughts. knocking you up while you're in deep sleep. malleus trapping you in a dream that feels like reality, in which you live a happy, domestic life with him. or being stuck in a strange dreamy time loop that you're desperate to break and get out of, but malleus is intent on keeping you here forever.

✧ classic fairytale scenario where you're sent to slay the dragon, but he slays you instead (by spearing you on his cocks!!!! <3).

✧ isekai manhwa sort of plot in which you wake as malleus's maid/advisor/spouse/guard, but according to the plot of the story you're fated to die at his hands because your character ultimately betrays him/does something that warrants death (or maybe you simply die because he threw a fit and you got caught in the raging crossfire). to change this destiny, you make it your mission to get on friendly, happy terms with him. unfortunately, you only give him more reasons to love you even more than he had before and so now you may have avoided death, but you can't escape the stifling obsession.

#twisted chit chat #i was listening to 'make a wish' again and malleus... woooo his voice is so 😵‍💫 malleus fans i completely understand your love for him #but also azul did not have to go so hard with the emphasis on 'ai' in 'ai no sukui o'#like... 🤨 azul why do you sound so yearning when you draw out the syllable???#he's rizzing me up through song orz #all of them are T^T

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lu-vin-it · 6 months

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Where in the World Have you Been Hiding?

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Summary: Phantom Of The Opera is your favorite musical. It also happens to be someone else’s favorite musical.

Pairings: Remus Lupin x Reader

Pronouns: None mentioned, but I wrote R to be more feminine.

Word Count: 1,001

Warnings: Underage drinking

A/N: Let’s pretend that The Phantom of the Opera was out when the Marauders were in school! Also, thank you to @mictodii and @stqrluvr for proofreading.

Halloween was Remus’s favorite holiday. It was the one day where he actually looked forward to the party that would come at night, and he adored costume shopping.

So just like every year, he and the other Marauders went shopping together and found the perfect costumes. Sirius and James dressed up as Dumbledore and Mcgonagall, Peter as a disturbingly realistic tree, and Remus as the Phantom of the opera.

You weren’t as obsessed as Remus, but you did enjoy the holiday. You went to a party here and there with your friends, and usually dressed up, but that was the extent of it. Even as a child you didn't go trick or treating since your parents were always working.

However, like tradition, you and your two friends, Lacy and Genevieve, went costume shopping together. Lacy was dressed up as a fairy, Genevieve as a quidditch player, though you weren’t sure which, and you were dressed as Christine from Phantom of The Opera.

You were sure no one would get the reference. Wizards and witches usually weren’t brushed up on Muggle media, and it had just come out. But you just couldn’t help yourself. Christine’s dress was beautiful and when you saw a replica in a shop you had to have it.

Before the party, you and your friends got ready in your dorm. Lacy was covered head-to-toe with glitter— which matched your room that was also now completely covered in glitter. Even if you cleaned it with magic, you knew you’d be finding specks of glitter for months.

The great hall was packed with people in costumes. Even Dumbledore was dressed up as an astronaut. The hall was also beautiful, with floating pumpkins and gorey decorations. They even had someone playing an organ– or maybe it was charmed– you had no clue as there wasn’t an organ in sight. Genevieve made a beeline for the drink table, pulling you and Lacy along with her.

“Think anyone has spiked this yet?” Gen asks with an evil glint in her eye.

“Of course we have, gotta be quicker than that.” You and your friends turn around to see James and Sirius dressed up as.. Dumbledore and Mcgonagall.

“Interesting couple’s costume.” Gen responds with a smirk. “What’d you put in there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” James crosses his arms (getting a fair amount of beard hair in between). Lacy reaches over and grabs a cup, quickly downing it.

“Tequila?” She asks. The boys stare at her and Sirius nods.

“Well we’ve got firewhiskey in our dorm, party in the dungeons tonight, see you there?” The boys smile and nod.

“See you there, ladies.” James replies.

“Hey aren’t you dressed up as that one girl from that one musical?” The raven haired boy asks, pointing at you.

“Oh, yeah, Christine from The Phantom of the Opera.”

“No way! Moony loves that musical. He’s dressed up as the guy with the mask.” You giggle slightly.

“As the Phantom of the Opera?”

“Yeah, the guy with the mask.” You shake your head at Sirius but don’t respond. Sirius looks around the hall before he locks eyes with someone and waves them over. Before you know it, the Phantom of the Opera.walks over to you. Your jaw drops slightly.

“Hey! Christine!” Your face breaks out into a grin.

“Hi! Oh my gosh, I didn’t think anyone would know my costume! And you’re all dressed up as him!” You fangirl.

“I didn’t think anyone would get it either! Your dress is so similar to the one she wore on broadway.” You nod.

“I know right? I saw it in a window and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I spent basically all my life’s savings on it.” You laugh nervously.

“I’m glad you did. You look great.” He looks you up and down, taking you all in, before meeting your eyes and freezing. “I mean– um.”

“Do you wanna dance?” You interrupt. He sighs and nods. You grab his hand and pull him away from your friends, whom you may have forgotten about. The dance floor was incredibly crowded, and definitely less romantic as you hoped.

And yes, you hoped. It wasn’t every day that a guy dresses up as the romantic interest of the person you’re dressed up as. You were definitely meant to be. Plus, you’ve always thought Remus was cute. When his hands landed on your waist, it took everything in you not to jump on him right there on the dance floor. Instead you put your hands around his neck and swayed with him.

“Favorite song from the musical?” He hums.

“Hard one, Wishing You Were Somehow Here always makes me cry, but I also love Wandering Child.”

“Extremely great choices.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Masquerade. It’s just so fun to sing.” He nods.

“You’re right, my Mom and I were singing it nonstop after we saw it.”

“That’s wonderful, I can imagine it now, Remus Lupin and his Mother singing and dancing to Masquerade.” Remus laughs.

“Don’t imagine it. It’s embarrassing to admit it as it is.” He replies playfully. You shake your head.

“I think it’s cute.” A silence falls between you for a moment.

“How long have you known Geneiveve and Lacy?” You glance over at your friends, Lacy was drinking another glass of punch and Gen was flirting with Sirius.

“I’ve known Lacy since we were in diapers. We’re cousins on my Dad’s side, and my Mom is good friends with her Dad— they were both Slytherins back in the day. Gen came along in first year, great thing too, Lacy and I are far too shy to make friends without her.”

“You don’t seem shy.” You blush.

“That’s because I’m talking to you.” He smiles.

“Oh really? Am I special or something?” You roll your eyes.

“Don’t get cocky, Lupin.” You glance over at your friends again, they’re still occupied. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Where would we go?” You hum in thought.

“Bell tower?” He smiles.

“Sure.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #fanfiction #harry potter x reader

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 11 months

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In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came...

That voice that comes to me, and speaks my name...

*inhales*

I am in love with his musical. I was very lucky to get to go and see The Phantom of The Opera at His Majesty's Royal Theatre in London.

I LOVED IT.

I have been listening to this sound track on repeat all week, I have been so invested in this story, I just had to cross over it. So this is a crossover of the musical, not the movie, very important distinction because the musical is different, and better

Honestly I have a lot to say but I'll ramble in the tags heh.

Some more charactersssss!!

Dream is going to be left gender ambiguous here, so if you want them to be a he like regular Dream you can, but if you want them to be a she like Christine then you can!

Also Cross' scar is only present for some of these drawings, because I decided he gets it from broken glass coming off the falling chandelier.

A kind of more detailed synopsis of how the Crossover lore works. And my concept art :)

In this Cross over, Dream and Nightmare were twins, but from babyhood, Nightmare had a strange mass of gloop around his eye. First covered with a small mask, the mass grew more over time. He ran away from home at age 6 and was taken by a circus to become the star of a freakshow attraction.

Over his travels he learned a lot and was proven to be a musical prodigy, but the mass grew. Soon wrecking one side of his face and covering one side of his body, that's why he wears one glove, and has the tendrils, hiddenunderneathhis cloak.

Eventually he found himself at the opera house, and lived there secretly, living as the oprea ghost.

And then who should turn up, but Dream, moving in with the other dancers after their mother's death. It didn’t take long for Night to recognise their twin, and seek to keep on eye on them from a distance. To protect them, but also teach them to sing.

Protecting to be an angel of music, and instructing Dream from the shadows. And Dream growing convinced that he's the spirit of their 'dead' brother, and they were kind right.

And in a true dreammare fashion, some of this sibling protectiveness turned into a bit of a more twisted obsessive love in Nightmare...

And that's most of the stuff that is changed, the rest stays mostly the same.

Original cross jakei95

Original nightmare and Dream by jokublog

Original ccino belongs to black-nyanko

Original ink by comyet

Original error by crayonqueen.

original lust by nsfwshamecave

@zu-is-here asked me to tag her in this post.

And I also want to bring some attention to this work, as well :)

Concept art! <3

Thank you so much!

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mizukitsunesblog · 7 months

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A crossover I have thought while listening & mha vibes swings!!

Do not steal/trace/claim as ur own

#drawing #fanart #mizukitsunesblog #my own art #reblog #myart #my hero academia #mha fanart #mha deku #mha #shoto todoroki #bnha deku #phantom of the opera #cross over

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shinyfire-0 · 3 months

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In chapter 5 of The Phantom of the Opera - The Enchanted Violin - Raoul and Christine meet at Perros and spend some time together talking in the moonlight on the heath overlooking the sea. The text is from the de Mattos translation, available online.

‘Raoul walked away, dejectedly, to the graveyard in which the church stood and was indeed alone among the tombs, reading the inscriptions; but, when he turned behind the apse, he was suddenly struck by the dazzling note of the flowers that straggled over the white ground. They were marvelous red roses that had blossomed in the morning, in the snow, giving a glimpse of life among the dead, for death was all around him. It also, like the flowers, issued from the ground, which had flung back a number of its corpses. Skeletons and skulls by the hundred were heaped against the wall of the church, held in position by a wire that left the whole gruesome stack visible. Dead men's bones, arranged in rows, like bricks, to form the first course upon which the walls of the sacristy had been built. The door of the sacristy opened in the middle of that bony structure, as is often seen in old Breton churches.

Raoul said a prayer for Daae and then, painfully impressed by all those eternal smiles on the mouths of skulls, he climbed the slope and sat down on the edge of the heath overlooking the sea. The wind fell with the evening. Raoul was surrounded by icy darkness, but he did not feel the cold. It was here, he remembered, that he used to come with little Christine to see the Korrigans dance at the rising of the moon. He had never seen any, though his eyes were good, whereas Christine, who was a little shortsighted, pretended that she had seen many. He smiled at the thought and then suddenly gave a start. A voice behind him said:

"Do you think the Korrigans will come this evening?"

It was Christine. He tried to speak. She put her gloved hand on his mouth.

"Listen, Raoul. I have decided to tell you something serious, very serious ... Do you remember the legend of the Angel of Music?"’

(the photo shows heath and the pink granite rocks looking down to the sea at Perros-Guirec. But it was taken on a bright sunny day, not a moonlit night in winter)

Christine then tells Raoul all about the Angel of Music who visits her in her room, and who has been sent by her father. When Raoul is sceptical about this, Christine runs away into the night. Raoul follows her but instead of going back to her room at the Inn she goes to the church where, as Raoul tells M Milfroid, the commissary of police, a few weeks later:

‘“She knelt down by her father's grave, made the sign of the cross and began to pray. At that moment, it struck midnight. At the last stroke, I saw Mlle. Daae life{sic} her eyes to the sky and stretch out her arms as though in ecstasy. I was wondering what the reason could be, when I myself raised my head and everything within me seemed drawn toward the invisible, WHICH WAS PLAYING THE MOST PERFECT MUSIC! Christine and I knew that music; we had heard it as children. But it had never been executed with such divine art, even by M. Daae. I remembered all that Christine had told me of the Angel of Music. The air was The Resurrection of Lazarus, which old M. Daae used to play to us in his hours of melancholy and of faith. If Christine's Angel had existed, he could not have played better, that night, on the late musician's violin. When the music stopped, I seemed to hear a noise from the skulls in the heap of bones; it was as though they were chuckling and I could not help shuddering."’

I took these photos of the church at Perros-Guirec (Église Saint-Jacques) in a hurry. I was with some people who kept getting in the way! and I was trying to look calm and collected while I took in the atmosphere of the place. I think all the graves in the graveyard were removed many years ago.

Finally, did Leroux take inspiration from the noseless Saint Guirec, whose shrine can be found just around the headland?

(from Wikipedia!) 'L'Oratoire de Saint-Guirec stands in the bay at Ploumanac'h with a chapel on the facing beach. Female pilgrims have come for centuries to call upon the prayerful intercession of the monk saint for their seafaring husbands' safety. Young women also come to ask Guirec's prayers that they would soon find a husband. The tradition of putting a pin in the nose of the saint's statue is said to encourage Guirec to acquire the blessing of a marriage within one year for the young pilgrim.'

(thank you to @paperandsong who made me go and find him!)

There is a beautiful beach at St Guirec's shrine and I imagined Christine having a little swim there.

Here is a map to show you where all these places are in relation to each other

#phantom of the opera #poto #erik x christine #gaston leroux #le fantôme de l'opéra #scenes from poto #perros-guirec #the enchanted violin #perros

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dross-the-fish · 11 months

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They found the elusive Phantom of the Opera curled up on pages of strewn sheet music, weeping with such pitiful heartbreak that none in the party dared to approach. “Je Meurs…” the deformed man sobbed to himself, unaware or uncaring that he had an audience. Dr. Watson shifted uncomfortably, “Either of you lads speak French?” he whispered to Quincy and Lawrence. Both shook their heads in dismay and Watson gave a resigned sigh, “I guess we’ll have to hope he speaks English.”

Before the doctor could approach the crying figure Adam Frankenstein stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I know French. Let me speak to him,” he said in a quiet rumble. Watson wrinkled his mustache. He was fond of The Creature and thought that after several months in his company he’d learned everything he needed to about him. Not the case, it seemed, for it had not even occurred to him that Adam could be a polyglot. Truthfully, Watson barely understood how a creation who had spent so much of his time in isolation knew English, much less French. Holmes would have had him figured out top to bottom by now, he thought to himself with a pang. “Fine, but please don’t scare him he seems…vulnerable,” he made a resigned gesture. The volume of the sobbing behind him intensified. “I’ll try but no promises, I daresay I am an even more frightful aberration than he,” the corner of Adam’s mouth quirked upward in a rueful smile, “Perhaps, from one living corpse to another, we may strike a kinship founded on our mutual ugliness” he mused. Watson’s frown deepened but before he could chide Adam he was cut off by a piteous cry: “Christine!” Quincey perked up, “I know that! That’s a girl’s name! You don’t think this is over a girl, do you, Larry?” Lawrence grimaced at him, “God, I hope not. After everything we went through to get down here our sentient zombie better not be dying of a broken heart.” Adam threw them both a look as if to say. Quiet! You’re distracting me. Once everyone had settled, he approached the Phantom and knelt beside him, addressing him in French. “Hello, are you hurt?” The Phantom started, as though he had been shaken from a dream. A bloodshot eye, as yellow as Adam’s own, peeked tearfully through the lattice of bony fingers covering a pallid, badly deformed, face. “What are you?” he asked, pausing his weeping long enough to be cognizant of the monstrous giant kneeling beside him. He turned away and groped behind him for a black mask that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, putting it back on while The Creature waited patiently. Adam did not answer him at first, after a thoughtful pause he offered: “Someone like you.” That seemed to be explanation enough for the wretched man for he resumed his crying “I am dying,” he said between sobs, “I am dying of love.” Adam nodded sympathetically, “Love, and the want of it, are indeed, powerful enough to die from. What happened?” “I kissed her! I kissed her alive! She let me-she let me! I have never…” he trailed off in a fresh wave of tears. Adam patted his back. “Where is she now? Has she forsaken you?” he asked. “Forsaken? No. Never! She would not…she is a good girl…she would have been my bride! My living bride! I could not keep her, not after she allowed me to kiss her. I have freed her!” the Phantom seemed to compose himself a little and he sat up, wiping his eyes on his sleeves. He seemed to notice, for the first time, Watson, Quincey and Lawrence hanging back watching him. “Who are you and why have you come here? I am in no condition to entertain guests. No guests have ever graced my lair save for the Daroga who shall, no doubt, be very cross with poor Erik, and there was Christine who has taken her little chap and fled forever…” The three Englishmen exchanged confused glances and Quincey offered an apologetic shrug. “He wants to know who you are,” Adam clarified, switching to English. Quincey nearly tripped over himself crossing the floor with his hand extended to introduce himself, “Quincey Harker, very nice to meet you! Sorry about your traps, we had to dismantle them to get down here. They were very impressive, by the way! Adam, will you tell him I’m impressed? I’ve never seen such feats of engineering before,” he babbled grasping and pumping Erik’s hand enthusiastically. Erik froze and replied, in slightly accented English, “Thank you…do not touch me,” as his mind finally began to clear he tensed, realization sinking in that there were four men, one of whom was larger than any man he’d ever seen, who had him effectively cornered and at a disadvantage. Quincey dropped Erik’s hand with a muttered apology and Watson nudged him aside, “I am Dr. John Watson. We’re supernatural investigators. You’ve noticed, surely, that the undead are rising at an alarming rate and we were hoping that, with you being the only other revenant we’ve discovered to be in full possession of his mental faculties,” he gestured at Adam, who grinned in response, “that you might be willing to come with us and lend us some aid. It is my belief that through researching cases like yourself and Mr. Frankenstein here we can derive a cure or at least a way to restore those inflicted to a sustainable quality of life.” The Phantom looked from man, to man, to creature and shook his head, “You are mistaken. Despite the rumors, for which I myself and largely responsible, I am no corpse. Although that shall undoubtedly change very soon. No, I am only Erik.” Adam’s face fell, “Are you saying that you are…alive?” he tried and failed to keep the disappointment from his voice. Erik gave a biting laugh, “I should not be! Nothing that looks like me should have been able to draw breath yet here I am, living as of yet,” he withdrew a little from Adam, who all at once seemed to him, to be much larger and more menacing than before, “Are you not?” he crept back, his long spindly legs bent at the knees in a half crouch as his hand subtly reached inside of his coat, “Are you in fact, one of the undead?” Black lips drew tight and white teeth bared as the creature’s face darkened, “I am! Whatever you’re about to try, don’t. I promise it will not work and the destruction will be your own.” Watson threw out an arm to keep Adam from advancing, “Steady there! No call for that! No one is here to harm or threaten anyone,” he threw Erik a pleading glance, “Please, we’re no danger to you! We’ve no interest in harming you or forcing you to come with us. I see we’ve made a mistake and we’ll leave you in peace. Right, Adam?” Adam looked from Watson to Erik and forced himself to relax, “Right,” he affirmed, though he did not take his eyes off of the thin, crouched man. Like a caged animal The Phantom regarded them before he followed their example and straightened, “I apologize, I am…unaccustomed to civil company, much less when it presents itself with… such a… creature,” he was blatantly staring in a way that made Adam’s hackles raise. “I hardly think that’s fair coming from you. Living or not, you’re not really much different from him, are you?” Lawrence interjected brusquely, “Let’s face facts here, you’re a monster in your own right even if you are only human.” “I suppose there is no denying that,” Erik sighed, “I suppose we should part ways. I cannot linger here and neither should you. No doubt, after they clean up the chandelier, there will be a mob gathering to come and tear this place apart and thanks to you I no longer have the protection of my traps.” “You could come with us,” Quincey offered, “Even if you are alive, we could definitely use someone with your knack for engineering back at our headquarters in London. We have rooms and we’ll give you free food and board.”

“I was going to wait for death to come and take me but perhaps it is not yet time to bring my story to a close,” Erik considered, taping his chin beneath his mask, “Could I bring a friend? If I am to leave Paris I should not like to go without a companion, though he may finally be through with me after how poorly I have treated him.”

“I don’t see why not,” replied Watson, “We have room and we need as much help as we can get.”

“It is agreed then. I know not what awaits me in London but perhaps it will be better than waiting to die here in this tomb. Allow me half an hour to collect my things and I will join you.”

#Phantom of the opera #Frankenstein #Sherlock Holmes #Lawrence Talbot #crossover au #HE'S IN #tbh I don't like the writing but it's as good as it will ever get so meh

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jell-o101 · 2 months

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Besides Super Mario, which other fandom interests do you have?

I will list…a few. Some of these are pretty generic to most people 😔

Bee and Puppycat

Ori and the Blind Forest

The Amazing Digital Circus

Steven Universe

Sonic

Over the Garden Wall

Hollow Knight

Epic Mickey

Trolls

Song of the Sea

Wolfwalkers

Undertale

Hamilton

Godzilla (and other kaijus as well)

Phantom of the Opera

Professor Layton

Animal Crossing

Moomin Valley

Sailor Moon

Hamtaro

Pokémon

Made in Abyss

Splatoon

Night in the Woods

I should probably stop, because I said I’d list a few 😅

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nicolovespancakes · 1 month

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Time I added something to the Sebaciel train-

The band Ghost, whom I love dearly and have seen live, (I have a limited edition black batwing hoodie with the Grucifix on the back, it was over 100 dollars 🥰😭), which I have heard every song of,

Is literally just Sebastian-coded. Specifically Sebastian @ Ciel coded.

Mary on a cross? Absolutely about Sebastian face-fucking Ciel Phantomhive. Get recked.

"If you choose to run away with me, I will tickle you internally, and I see nothing wrong with that."

Square Hammer? Absolutely about the moment they made their contract, from Sebastian's Point of View.

"Living in the night, 'neath heavens torn asunder, you call on me to solve a crooked rhyme. As I'm closing in, imposing on your slumber. You call on me as bells begin to chime.

Are you on the square? Are you on the level? Are you ready to swear right here, right now, before the devil?"

Call Me Little Sunshine? Absolutely their bond.

"You will never walk alone. You can always reach me. You will never ever walk alone. All you have to do is call me,

- Ease up to the hunter from the prey,"

Cirice? Sebastian's view of Ciel when they first meet, and whilst they make the contract.

"I know your soul is not tainted, even though you've been told so. Can you hear the rumble? Can you hear the rumble that's calling?

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart. I can see through the scars inside you. I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart. I can see through the scars inside you,

A candle casting a faint glow. You and I see eye to eye,

Now there is nothing between us. From now our merge is eternal. Can't you see that you're lost? Can't you see that you're lost without me?"

And I cannot HELP but think of Rats as Sebastian seeing what's happening at the Kelvin Mansion at the end of BoC, and the servants subsequently killing the circus troop.

"Into your sanctum. You let them in. Now all your loved ones, and all your kin, will suffer punishments beneath the wrath of God. Never to forgive,"

Kiss The Go-Goat is self explanatory. Ciel fucks a demon. Moving on.

"Osculum Obscenum, *kiss*"

Ritual is Sebastian being summoned by the cult.

"Tonight, we're summoned for a divine cause. Remembrance, no. But for their future loss.

This chapel of ritual, smells of dead human sacrifices, from the altar."

Spillways is what I feel like Sebastian would think of his and Ciel's ever-evolving game, and Ciel's revenge.

"Through benediction, you tried to rid your mind of malediction. But through all this time, you try to peel it off, and it's such a ride.

All your faith, all your rage, all your pain, it ain't over now. And I ain't talking about forgiveness. All your faith, all your rage, all your pain, it ain't over now.

It's the cruel beast that you feed. It's your burning yearning need to bleed."

Phantom Of The Opera? Reminds me of when Sebastian is ordered to commit acts of violence or savagery.

"I'm standing in the wings. There I wait for the curtain to fall, and knowing the terror and holding I have on you all,

Yeah, you know that I'm gonna scratch you and maim you and maul, and you know you're helpless from my mesmerizing catcall."

ANYWAY,

IF I MADE A PLAYLIST, FOR THEM, ITS ALL GHOST SONGS

LMAO.

That's all.

My contribution to the Sebaciel fans. Yall are lovely. I adore you.

Mwah.

#sebaciel #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #sebastian x ciel #ciel x sebastian #sebastian michaelis x ciel phantomhive #black butler #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji 2024 #kuroshitposting

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mingisdoll · 24 days

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Phantom of KQ

Includes: Phantom of the Opera AU, phantom!Jongho, gn!operasinger!reader, inaccurate shit (lemme be honest. it's been a minute since I saw Phantom of the Opera lol), mentions of blackmailing into sexual activities, fluffy ending

@newworldnet

Thank you to @itsnotmydejavu for requesting this! Ily, mother

The day you met him was a day you'd never forget. How could you forget him?

Loads of people have talked about this mysterious guy who would always show up in the auditorium of the KQ Grand Hall and just sing along to whatever was decided on the program. However, it wasn't the good kind of talk. Rather than focus on how beautiful and powerful his vocals were

They talked about the mask he wore.

It was a specific mask too.

The mask was half black and half white. The black half of the mask had white spikes sitting atop the eye in an upward motion and had a smile. Probably an indication that someone had finally opened their eyes and are seeing the light to a whole new world that was bestowed upon them. The white half of the mask had black spikes dropping below the eye in a downward motion and had a frown. Almost as if someone was crying.

That's when the rumors started. Rumors of the guy being super ugly due to the mask and how he secretly was a vicious man beast due to his impressive strength.

You were having none of it.

You were a famous opera singer who started joining the Seoul Choir to help out those who wanted to reach to stardom one day through opera. However, the more you frequented the rehearsals, the more you realized that maybe you were starting to regret joining.

These people were so excited to have you join them that they'd always crowd around you, asking for advice on how to sing better and how to reach to that level of fame that you were at.

You didn't have the heart to tell them that in order to be a better singer, you'd have to be a better person.

It was the third week of rehearsals and of course, you and the masked guy were outshining the rest of the choir. They didn't mind you outshining them.

They minded the masked guy.

As the masked guy was about to reach an impressive high note, you saw one of the choir members reach out to pull his mask off in an attempt to be funny. You knew way deep down that people will humiliate him and possibly destroy his mask. You were an understanding person. You knew that this guy had a reason for hiding and you weren't one to pry since his business is his own. However, you were also not the type of person to idly stand by and let this unfold. Mustering your best acting skills

You started acting like a complete diva.

The choir all turned their heads to you in confusion while the choir director was sweating bullets and he looked hella nervous. You started spewing random nonsense and people would've laughed.

If you hadn't called out the guy that was trying to take off the mysterious guy's mask.

The random guy, along with a few of his friends, tried to poorly reason with you and defend their actions yet you were having none of it. What struck fear in all of the members was your harsh and truthful statement.

"I will not sing with a bunch of bullies!"

From there, most of the choir members somewhat had your back. Of course, you knew that they weren't doing it for the masked guy but for you since they didn't want to be on the headlines for pissing off the country's most beloved opera singer. However, you accepted their help gratefully.

For the rest of the rehearsal, the masked guy's bullies sat in the audience, crossing their arms and glaring at you. You ignored them and continued to sing with the rest of the choir. Once rehearsal was over, you were the first to go. You were in your dressing room (that was only exclusive to you) and packing your things when the bullies entered and shut the door behind them, locking it. The sound made your ears perk up and your mind filled with dread.

"Well well well. Looks like little Y/N finally lost their confidence. Where was this when you were calling us out? Hmm?" The rest of the guys snickered distastefully while you gulped nervously.

You didn't know things would turn out this way.

"However, I'm a nice guy. I'll forget everything that happened. That is... if you let me and my boys hit it one time."

Immense disgust ran through you as the guys all surrounded you, licking their lips and staring you up and down in such a crude manner. The sound of your heart beating wildly was prominent in your ears that you failed to hear the distant echoes of someone walking within the walls.

Wait a second...

Someone was in the walls?

In the blink of an eye, all the guys went from predatory to fearful as they were dragged into the darkest depths of the room. Their screams echoed before they were completely drowned out. The main bully grabbed your arm and held you close to him, his arm wrapped around your waist and his hand wrapped around your neck.

"Ayo! Whoever's in there, you'd best scurry along! Or else they're dead!"

More disgust was shown when he licked the side of your face and tightened his grip on your neck. Soon, someone emerged from the shadows and your eyes widened.

It was the masked guy. And he was wearing something different.

He wore an all-black outfit and the huge fedora tipped over his eyes was also black. He wore a different mask this time. It was a simple face mask but there were silver chains on it formed into an X. When he spoke, shivers ran down your spine.

"Don't touch her."

You never heard him speak before so this was new to you. In a flash, you were let go and the masked guy held the bully by his throat before lifting him up into the air and pinning him against the wall.

Talk about impressive strength.

"You're going to leave her alone and you will leave this choir. I don't care what excuse you must use. You will leave her alone and if I catch you trying to harass her, I will break you in half. Now scram."

After the bully was let go, he ran away in fear. The masked guy then turned his head towards you and walked towards you. You were supposed to fear him. Yet you didn't.

He offered a hand to help you up and you gratefully accepted it. He then pulled out that all familiar mask. As a sign of respect, you turned your head so he can change into it. Once he was done, you turned your head back. A soft smile graced your face as you reached your hand out and caressed his mask covered face.

"Thank you for saving me."

Your soft voice was music to the guy's ears. Underneath the mask, he was smiling. He partially lifted his mask up so he can take your hand and kiss the back of it, which caused you to blush a bit. He then spoke in an equally soft voice after putting the mask down.

"Thank you for standing up for me."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was about a few months ago. From that faithful day, you started getting closer with the masked guy. You learned that his name is Choi Jongho. He used to be a basketball player but due to his leg injury, he started focusing more on music. Sometimes, you two would stay after rehearsal to focus more on the upcoming solo you guys had together for one of the songs. While the choir director allowed it, you weren't supposed to be at the KQ Grand Hall after hours.

Which led you two to be outside for tonight.

The full moon was gleaming brightly and it was a particularly warm night so you didn't have to bring a heavy jacket. You two were taking a break from rehearsing your parts. You were sitting beside him on the grass, eating homemade sandwiches that one of Jongho's brothers made. As you chugged your water, you felt that he was staring at you so you decided to tease him.

"Is there something on my face, bear?"

That was your nickname to him since his size and strength reminded you of a grizzly bear yet his soft demeanor and frequent back hugs reminded you of a teddy bear. Jongho chuckled and spoke flirtatiously.

"Yeah. Beauty."

Your face went red and you playfully shoved him, to which he laughed at. You loved his laugh and you wanted to see the bright smile on his face as he laughed. However, you remained respectful and you just used your imagination. As the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, you noticed him scoot closer to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders. You didn't mind it. Instead, you leaned in and laid on his shoulder instead, mindlessly playing with the rings on your fingers.

"There's something I have to tell you."

You looked up to see the masked guy looking down at you. You gestured for him to continue, although you couldn't help your curiosity. Was it something good? Bad?

"I'm in love with you."

Ok. It was something good.

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE!

DID HE JUST -

"I first fell in love with your voice when I heard you on the radio. I've collected all vinyl records of your albums and played them on repeat. Then when I found out that you were joining the choir, I was so excited! Those feelings progressed when you stood up for me that faithful day. However, I knew deep down that you'll probably never love someone like me."

"And why is that?" You asked gently.

"Nobody would love a phantom like me."

You felt your heart break as Jongho referred to himself as that. Is that what people were saying about him? Man you really wanted to quit here and there. The only thing that kept you going was him. You grabbed his face and made him look at you.

"You are not a phantom. Sure you're quiet and you keep yourself masked and you disappear often but that doesn't make you a phantom. It just makes you someone who likes their space. I'm tired of people speaking bad about you. If I have to announce it to the world, I will. Jongho, I'm in love with you too! Your voice, your personality, everything! I love everything about you. And I'll be damned if someone will speak ill of you! You deserved nothing but the best and -"

Your rambling was cut off when you felt a pair of soft lips land on yours. Your eyes widened for a brief moment before they closed as you kissed him back. You wrapped your arms around his neck while his hands had a firm yet gentle grip on your waist. He used a bit of his strength to pull you into his lap, which shocked you yet you didn't care. As you pulled away to catch your breath, the realization set in.

He took off his mask.

Wilingly.

You didn't even have to ask.

He trusted you that much.

You took the time to study his features. His very handsome features.

Black hair swept back to reveal an undercut he had, pretty lips, a cute nose, round cheeks that you couldn't help but pinch lightly causing him to giggle and reveal an adorable gummy smile, a nice jawline, and a pair of the most alluring eyes you've ever seen.

They were brown but with a couple of minor undertones of gray in the irises.

"Jongho... you took off your mask. For me."

Jongho smiled once more and kissed your cheek before cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer to him so your foreheads could touch.

"You're worth it."

#newworldnet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader

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