#erik destler reader insert

[stellasmultiverse]

What Is Wrong With Me?

Pairing: Erik Destler x Reader

Summary: Reader is feeling sad while Erik is out. Erik comes back and comforts reader. Mental breakdown and feelings ensue. This is my first fic so please be nice to me<3

Warnings: Fluff, First Kiss, Sad Reader, literally nothing to worry about

AO3

Hopelessness. Pure hopelessness. That's what you were feeling. It wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Erik had stepped out to do only God knows what and so here you lie on his couch, one of the only pieces of furniture in Erik's underground home. Feeling as if you've fallen into a deep, dark hole filled with nothing but your loneliness and self-pity.

"Angel?"

Your head whips around to face Erik only to turn it in the opposite direction just as quickly as to hide the dried tears on your face which you're sure are far too visible for him not to have seen already.

Erik didn't think much of you lying on his couch as he entered, which you had persuaded him to get because apparently he needed more then the bed he had provided for you since his coffin didn't count. Then he saw your face, the expression which stood somewhere between blank and sorrowful and the dried tears that laid on your cheeks. The scene before him broke his heart. He approached you as you tried to hide your face into your left shoulder and kneeled beside you.

"Angel, mon amour, what's wrong? Please tell me, I beg you!"

The desperate need in his voice to know what was wrong with you broke your heart. What on Earth could you say to him to explain this feeling. There was no explanation to this feeling, it was just simply there. The combination of all your overwhelming thoughts and crushing need to be vulnerable finally made your resolve snap.

It was like the rest of your tears that you had refused to shed were being held back by a dam and it finally broke. There was no way that you could stop the tears that were streaming down your face or the sobs that you were releasing that broke Erik's heart even more. Unable to give it another thought you launched yourself into beloveds arms. Your breakdown got even worse as you were filled with Erik's comfort and warmth as he tightened his arms around you.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

Your words were choked out in between your sobs. You had never felt more helpless but Erik's hold on you made you feel loved and somewhat grounded. You had no idea what he was going to say if was even going to say anything at all. Though you were content to stay in his embrace for as long as possible.

Your tears died down and all that could be heard was your sniffles. You didn't want to let go of Erik and lose the warming comfort of his embrace but you knew you couldn't hold onto him forever. You reluctantly loosened your arms from around his neck but his grip around your waist didn't relent.

"Chéri,"

Your sentence was put short when Erik used a kiss to silence you. In all the times that you had imagined what your first kiss with Erik would be like you had never thought that it would happen right after you broke down in tears in his arms. Though, who were you to complain? You had waited for so long, not wanting to push Erik who had far too little affection given to him throughout the years until you came along. Erik pulled away though he wouldn't dare move farther away then a few inches so he rested his forehead against yours. The coldness of his mask sent a slight chill through you. He gazed into your eyes with love and longing and sympathy and you gazed back with the same sentiment. His voice filled the comfortable silence almost startling you.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, mon trésor."

The sentence almost made you burst into tears again although these tears would've been out of joy and love. You tightened your grip around his neck once again bringing you even closer. He removed a hand from around your waist and used it to wipe away some tears that still remained. A small smile found its way onto both of your faces and you had never felt more loved or more lucky to have Erik.

"Erik, mon coeur?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making me feel loved."

"You are loved, mon ange."

"As are you, you are ma raison d'être."

"And you are ma raison de vivre."

You couldn't say how much longer you stayed in each others embrace. The only thing you know for sure is there were many more kisses and sweet nothings whispered in each others ears. Your kisses carried out into the night and you fell asleep in each others arms.

Long after sleep overcame the both of you, Erik's mask lie fallen onto the floor but that was a problem for the two of you to face in the morning.

translations:

mon amour: my love chéri: darling mon trésor: my treasure mon coeur: my heart mon ange: my angel ma raison d'être: my reason for being ma raison de vivre: my reason for living

[nerdyfangirl67]

Dancing in the Rain - Phantom of the Opera Reader Insert

Pairing: Erik Destler (Phantom) x GN!reader

Word count: 510

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Request by: @nsfw-kill-me-now

“Can u do poto Erik x reader with a reader who loves walking in the rain, even tho they get absolutely soaked Bc they don't use an umbrella... so their hair is just absolutely drenched but reader doesn't give a damn”

A/N: Alright, I hope y’all enjoy this one! Thanks for the request darling and I hope it’s what you’re expecting. (And y’all, I know the GIF is a bit *modern*, and probably not Paris, but I thought it was appropriate)

You pull Erik along behind you, excitement racing through you as your feet hit the cobblestone streets of Paris. Puddles are starting to form in the dips and depressions in the streets and as you quickly drag Erik behind you, you find yourself gravitating towards the small pools of water. You let out a squeal as the rain starts coming down even harder. You tip your face up towards the sky, letting go of Erik’s hand to spin around, your cloak flaring out around you as you speed up, the world around you becoming a dizzying array of soft, cloud touched colors. 

“Mon amour (my love), you are getting soaked.” Erik’s voice breaks through the sounds of pattering rain on the rooftops and the soft drops of rain hitting the streets below.

A giddy laugh bubbled up in your chest, your spinning circles slowly coming to a stop. You close your eyes, allowing the world to come to a stop as you say, “Why, mon ange de la musique (my angel of music), have you never heard of dancing in the rain?” You open your eyes then, closing the distance between you and Erik in only a few strides. 

You throw your arms around his neck, looping them together softly as your fingers move to find the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Dance with my amour (love)?” You breathe out, a puff of warm air filling the space between you. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he begins to slowly sway with you. “Mon amour, we are getting absolutely drenched.” He says, a tone of mirth coloring his words.

You let out an airy laugh as you tip your head up towards the sky, allowing the large drops of water to land softly on your face, causing a light shiver to pass down your spine. “Why, that’s the joy of it mon fantôme (my phantom).” His warm hand comes to cup your face, his thumb tracing soft lines along your cheekbone. 

You turn your face just enough to press a soft kiss to the palm of his hand before you spin out and away from him. “The rain washes it all away, mon amour.” You say softly, savoring the feeling of water dripping down the back of your neck, wetting your eyelashes and soaking your hair. “Everything is fresh and clean after the rain.” 

Erik doesn’t say anything as he walks towards you, lacing a hand with one of yours. “Well then, ma chérie (my dear), we shall stay out here as long as it takes until it all washes away.” His voice is quiet as he leans in to give you a soft kiss. 

You give him a soft smile, leaning against his arm as the two of you continue on your way. You walk along the streets long after the rain stops, the scent of fresh baked bread wafting through the streets and the slowly brightening sky serving as the only sign that dawn was breaking just below the horizon. 

[nerdyfangirl67]

May I please request Erik hugging headcanons and how he would react to a hug? (I just feel like he needs a hug) Thank you and have a great day!

I am so sorry this has taken me so long to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much for the request!!

P.S. - I have a load of POTO requests coming so stay tuned for those and for my next follower celebration (which is coming soon), I have a Morgan (CM) x reader fic in the works.

More Than You Know

You hurry down the damp, cold underground tunnels, the excitement of seeing Erik and telling him the news causing speeding you up even further until you were almost running down the tunnels.

You finally reach the large, lowly lit cavernous room that Erik called his own. A quiet melody greets you as quickly make your way up the few, uneven stone steps. 

He is hunched over the organ, his velvety black cloak flowing out behind him and his hands flying across the ivory keys.

You are so excited that you squeal out “Erik” before wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. You press your face into his back, a wide smile growing on your face. 

In your exhilaration, you had forgotten about how Erik disliked having someone else in his ‘personal space’. You could feel how tense he was, his shoulders tight with tension, his fingers frozen in place on the keys. 

You take a quick step back, letting go of Erik as you did. “Je suis désolé mon ange (I am sorry my angel).” You move away from him, giving him as much space as he needed to feel comfortable. 

He slowly turns around and you expect to see his dark eyes filled with anger, but instead, they softly glisten in the candlelight, tears beginning to collect on his bottom lashes.

“Erik?” You ask softly, worried you had done far more harm than good with that hug. You reach out a tentative hand, unsure of how to help.

He slowly grabs your hand, wrapping a hesitant arm around your waist and another around your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him in response, unable to stop the smile that was spreading across your face. Erik never was one to initiate physical contact so this was a pleasant surprise.

He steps in closer, leaning in to whisper, “Je vous remercie (thank you). It means more than you know.”

[nerdyfangirl67]

A Modern Lady - Phantom of the Opera Reader Insert

Pairing: Erik Destler x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing/vulgar language 

Word count: 536

Request by: anonymous

“Hello! Can I please request a fic or HCs where erik is in a relationship with the reader but shes really modern and vulgar for someone living in the 19th century and keeps making him blush? But he really loves it?“

A/N: I love this idea (I connected with this reader just a little bit, TBH)! I wanted to write it right away, so I made it a drabble, I hope that’s okay :) Thank you so much for this request! <3 The words in italics are French curses (or at least the internet says so) and any French is translated to English in the parentheses. (Google translate again, so sorry for any mistakes)

P.S. - I also got your thank you message and thought it was so sweet! Thank you anon!

You stomp your way into your small shoebox of a room, spitting out curses as you go. You had barely shut the door behind you before you were removing the multiple layers of the heavy, restricting costume skirt. 

“How anyone finds these ridiculous things as anything but oppressive is beyond me.” You mutter as you strip down to your bloomers. You don’t hesitate as you dig through your mess of a chest, looking for the pair of pants you kept for moments just this. You quickly pull on the pants, rummaging through your chest in search of the pageboy cap you had had for years. After a few moments of looking, you find it and tuck your hair in underneath it. You head back out into the hallway as you make your way to the small door you use to get into the underground tunnels. 

You pass a few of the dancers, who give you an odd look, as you head to the small, almost concealed door. You slip into the tunnels once the hallway is clear and you practically run through the dimly lit catacombs, following the path you had travelled enough times to have it memorized.

“Erik!” You call as you move up the slick stone steps of the cavernous room, slipping on your way up. “Putain.” You hiss under your breath as you limp up the last step. You shuffle over to the organ bench, sitting down as you rub the sore spot on your shin. You lift the leg of your pants, another curse flying past your lips as you see a bump growing on leg.

“Mon ange?” Erik’s deep voice sounds from somewhere behind you. Your gaze flies up, your eyes meeting his. You feel your face heat up, embarrassed that he had witnessed you speaking such vulgar words. You notice that Erik was sporting a faint blush himself, meaning he had heard you unladylike words.

“Je m'excuse pour ma manière peu élégante (I apologize for my unladylike manner).” You say quietly, your embarrassment growing as you remember you were dressed like a man. You slowly pull the cap off of your head, turning your gaze to the floor and wishing you hadn’t come dressed as you had, no matter how uncomfortable you had been in your dress. 

You hear his footsteps make their way over to where you sat, but you didn’t say anything. You only lift your head when you feel one of his hands trace the line of your jaw. “Mon ange, do not apologize.” His dark eyes are soft as they look into yours. “You are perfect, just as you are.” He slowly takes the cap from your hand, brushing back a lock of hair before putting it back on your head. 

“Vous n'avez jamais besoin de changer. Je t'aime comme tu es. (You never need to change. I love you just as you are).” He says as he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips and another on your jawline before finally kissing you solidly on the lips. You kiss him back, a smile growing on your lips as you do. “Et je t'aime (And I love you).” You whisper against his lips.

[nerdyfangirl67]

Hello, I was wondering if you could write an Erik Destler x reader imagine? Reader is touch starved and constantly needs physical touch. Erik gets mad at her and won't touch her, so her mood and energy drop after going so long without it. (She seems sick basically) sorry if it doesn't make a lot of sense

Hi anon, thank you for the request!! I hope it’s okay that I did this as more of a headcanon and changed it just a bit (I hope you don’t mind)! I wanted to start getting some of these requests out because, to me, it feels like they’ve been on the back burner for a while and I hate doing that to y’all. Hope you enjoy it!! 

Pairing: Erik Destler x fem!reader

Physical touch...not only was it something you craved from the people you loved, but it was also the way you showed those you loved that you cared.

Soft fingers caressing a cheek, a gentle squeeze of a shoulder, fingers of different hands laced together, a brush of hair away from the face, a hand grazing an arm in passing, an affectionate touch of two foreheads right before a kiss

These were the ways you showed your love, as well as the ways you wanted love shown to you.

You realize that you had never outright told Erik that. Rather, you had slowly coaxed Erik into being comfortable with physical touch, both yours to him and his to you.

He no longer flinched when you rested a hand on his forearm or pulled away right before the meeting of your lips with his. His touch was no longer feather-lite as if you were made out of glass and he was afraid of breaking you. Now he would confidently place the full weight of his hand on your hip, shoulder, neck whenever he held you. You no longer had to tell him it was alright or guide his hand back into place because he touched you of his own volition, without needing to be persuaded or reassured.

And even though he felt comfortable with the frequent physical touch, you see, looking back, that the problem was in never telling him how important touch was to you.

The two of you had gotten into a huge fight about something so inconsequential that, after it was over you had instantly regretted it. You didn’t like arguing to begin with, but whenever it happened with Erik, you hated it even more. 

Because of that, you had been ready to apologize and talk with him after a short five-minute walk around the catacombs, which you had used to clear your head.

Evidently, Erik did not feel the same way. You had walked up to where he was sitting at the organ, relentlessly pounding out a dark, torturous melody on the keys, and placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

He quickly shook your hand off and stood, striding away from you and to the table where his numerous musical creations sat waiting to be played.

“Erik?” You had asked quietly, following him. You started to reach for his hand when he spit out a stern, “Don’t”. 

A little bit of your heart shattered at his denial and you took a step back in response. He looks you over, his dark eyes swimming with emotions before turning back to the stack of music in front of him. “Just don’t.” He murmurs before completely ignoring you.

You had thought that maybe he was still upset about the argument, not ready to reconcile as you had been, so you left him alone for the rest of the day.

When it came time for bed, you thought that he might be a little calmer after having the day to think. But that had not been the case. Instead, he had stayed up for hours playing on the organ after you had settled into bed. 

He had come to bed sometime in the middle of the night, you had felt the bed dip and bend with his added weight, but he never got close. He stayed on the far edge of the bed, stiff and unmoving for the entirety of the time he was in bed.

His cold behavior continued into the next day. He barely spoke to you, let alone touch you, making you feel worse as the day progressed. You had tried again to get his attention, but he, again, pulled away from you, ignoring your pleading.

You became overrun with feelings of self-doubt, rejection, and sorrow that only grew the longer Erik’s petulant behavior continued. You couldn’t bring yourself to do the most necessary tasks, like eating and resting, or the things you enjoyed most, like practicing your music or watching the performers practice for the upcoming opera.

Your mood steadily decreased too, until, three days after the initial argument, you were so upset that you couldn’t even bring yourself to leave the small area of Erik’s cavern that had become your own and head to bed. It seemed pointless to keep up the pretense of ‘normal’ if Erik was ignoring you. You spent that night staring at a sheet of music, that Erik had written for you, in the dwindling candlelight. 

Hours later, Erik appeared, wide-eyed and frantic. “Y/N?” He asked as he approached you, his hands flitting over you, yet never touching you. You didn’t have the energy, or the willpower, to move and look him in the eyes. 

Finally, he rested a hand on the back of your shoulder. “Ma chérie, please look at me.” You did then, his dark glistening eyes causing your heart to clench painfully as he kneeled down, his face becoming level with yours.

“Ma chérie, I must apologize. You do not deserve to be treated the way I have treated you. I can see that it has affected you gravely.” You almost missed what he had said because you were so distracted by the way he was tracing small shapes on your upper back. 

You hadn’t cared, at that moment, what the last few days had been like. All you wanted was to feel his arms around you, so you had pushed away from the hard wooden chair into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your face pressed into the spot where his neck met his collar bone.

His arms pulled you close, leaving you feeling whole for the first time in days. And you vowed to yourself that you would finally tell him exactly what being touched meant to you, as you did not want to go through anything like you had ever again.

[nerdyfangirl67]

Hello! May I please request something with Erik and platonic!reader please? (Feminine or neutral pronouns) In which Erik gets to experience friendship stuff like someone being around him just because they wanted to, or giving without expecting anything in return? Our boi would be so soft for his bestest friend

First of all, thank you for the request! You are so right (!), Erik would be so soft for his best friend🥺😊 I hope it’s okay I’m writing this as a headcanon and I hope you like it!

Pairing: Erik x gn!reader (platonic)

You never expected to find a friend in the infamous Phantom of the Opera Populaire. In fact, you never expected to know him as more than a teacher. 

You had heard of his previous student, the celebrated soprano Christine Daaé, and how her skills had flourished after being taught by the mysterious figure hidden in the dark. 

When you had first met him, as intimidating, dark, and full of himself that he was, your only thoughts had been about improving your musical abilities.

After a mere week of knowing him, your focus had shifted from solely being on your music to trying to find some way to connect with him as more than a student.

After a month, he was more than just a teacher to you. He had become a friend. And you could tell that he hadn’t had many of those in his life.

So you went out of your way to make sure that you could be the kind of friend he deserved.

Outside of the music teaching, you made sure to spend time with him, even if that time was just the two of you sitting together at the organ as Erik (he had told you his name, his real one, after the first week the two of you had spent time together) scribbled notations on his compositions. 

You started leaving things behind after you left. It started with little notes, ones thanking him for the help, reminding him to look to the good in the day, or ones that simply said you were thinking of him. You eventually started leaving behind little melodies, ones you had created that combined your new compositions and your favorites of Erik’s. 

After trips outside of the opera house to the streets of Paris, you would stop in Erik’s cavern and set a flaky croissant or a small fruit on his writing-table to remind him you were thinking of him.

Erik always thanked you profusely after he found whatever it is you left behind or as the two of you would part ways after spending time together. He always said the same thing, “Thank you Y/N. I am not worthy of this friendship you have given me, but I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

His gratitude always reminded you just how truly special this friendship was, to both you and him.

[nerdyfangirl67]

An Angel to Me - Phantom of the Opera Reader Insert

Pairing: Erik Destler x genderneutral!reader 

Warning: woke!Erik (he is in touch with his feelings in this one, so I hope it’s not too OOC), artist!reader 

Word count: 1067

Request by: @iamcavainna​

“Erik’s s/o being an artist who loves to draw him but does it in secret in fear of upsetting him but Erik finds one specific drawing. The drawing is a charcoal drawing of him with angel wings (shirtless or not, either one works) and the drawing is of how his s/o sees him. In the drawing he’s radiating like an angel and he’s beautiful despite his scars and that’s when he realizes how much his s/o loves him and that he is worthy of her love (or something like that) and he starts crying. When his s/o comes back, she find him curled up in a corner crying clutching the drawing to him. When he sees her, he tells her how much he loves her and needs her (even tho she already knows) and they end up going through all her drawings of him together”

A/N: I changed it just a bit, but I hope you still enjoy it! Thanks for the request darling! I used “ma chérie” and I think it is the feminine version of “my dearest”. I did, however, include the masculine version of the endearment in parentheses, so you can use whichever you prefer. I believe other than that, this is a gender neutral fic. (This pic isn’t really POTO related, but gives me POTO in Paris vibes)

You stare at the drawing you just finished, wondering what had possessed you to draw him, Erik, like you had. Usually when you chose him as your subject, you drew him doing what he loved best, making music. Your sketchbook, or what could pass for one, was full of drawings of Erik. Erik playing at the organ, Erik hunching over his music sheets as he creates another masterpiece, Erik standing solemnly amongst the hundreds of candles in his cavern, Erik languidly stretched out across the large, black satin covered bed. 

Yet, never before had you drawn him as you truly see him, until now, and it left you breathless. You hadn’t once needed to look at him as you drew, your charcoal pencil hardly leaving the page once you started. You set your sketchbook aside, deciding to take a brisk fall walk along the streets of Paris. You write a short note to Erik, promising to be back soon, and place it on top of the keys on his organ, hoping he finds it.

Erik’s POV:

He entered the cavernous opening, expecting to find you on the velvet chaise longue beside the organ, your nose in your sketchbook, completely unaware of everything around you. He didn’t find you on the chair, but he did find your abandoned sketchbook. Curiosity seizes him and he grabs the book off the cushion. He knows how private you are about what was on those pages, but he also knew how truly happy the works on those pages made you, as happy as his music made him. Because of that, he had to know what was on the pages of your sketchbook.

He tentatively opens the cover, surprise filling him when he sees the drawing is of him. You had drawn him bent over his work table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he furiously wrote a new composition, neglected music sheets piling up at his feet. He stares a moment longer before flipping the page, his surprise becoming disbelief as this drawing was of him too. You had drawn him stretched out on the bed shirtless, a muscular arm tucked up under his head, his mask discarded carelessly on the floor, a barely there smile on his face. He continues to flip through the pages, each successive drawing of him. He finally reaches the one you had just finished and his surprise turns into disbelief.

It was a charcoal sketch of him, except extending out past his shoulders was a set of beautiful black angel wings. You had drawn him face uncovered, the scars on his face visible, along with the several littered across his chest. The lines were soft and the shading just enough to draw attention to the scars marring his body. Usually the sight of those scars, even if they were just a rendition on paper, left him filled with disgust, but the way you had drawn them? He thinks they are beautiful, in fact, he thought the whole drawing of him was beautiful. He realizes then that this drawing shows how you truly see him. Tears blur his vision, a lump forming in his throat as continued to look at the picture. He realizes then that you love him, and looking at the drawing again, he also realizes that you find him worthy of that love. 

Your POV:

You return from your walk, your heavy cloak damp from the cold mist falling over the city sending a shiver down your spine. You drape your wet cloak over the small velvet stool resting next to the worn stone steps. You don’t hear the organ playing, which you had expected when you entered the cavern, and upon reaching the organ, you don’t find Erik sitting there, hunched over his music.

“Erik?” You call softly, worry starting to creep up in your chest. “Where are you?” You don’t hear any response, but you do hear movement deeper in the room. After looking for a few moments, you find the source of the noise. Erik is sitting on the ground, tucked in one of the small dark alcoves of the room, his knees drawn tightly into his chest and his head covered with his arms. 

“Erik?” You question, reaching out a hand to rest it on his shoulders. He shifts, your sketchbook falling off of his lap. An irrational feeling of fear seizes in your chest, causing you to stumble back a step. You had always worried about Erik finding your sketchbook because you knew exactly how you drew him in your pictures. You drew him unmasked, the scars he deemed hideous clear and present. You drew him the way he was around you, quiet and almost gentle, and knowing Erik, seeing that would make him feel exposed. 

You sit down next to him, tucking your legs underneath you. A long silence stretches between the two of you, the sounds of your mingling breaths the only noise filling the room. He finally sits up fully, his hand coming to rest on the cover of your sketchbook. “Erik? What is the matter?” You ask gently, resting your hand on top of his. 

He turns to face you, his eyes red and slightly puffy, as he says, “I was not aware of the depth of your feelings for me, ma chérie (mon chéri). How much you find me worthy of your love.” He unfolds his long legs, slowly standing and offering you a hand. You take it and he pulls you up, bringing you in close to his chest. “I will always love and cherish you ma chérie (mon chéri).” He pauses, running a rough finger over your cheek and looking deep in your eyes. “You make me a better man and I do not want to imagine my life without you.” 

You tilt your head to place a gentle kiss on his lips, letting your forehead rest on his. “Erik, I love you as well.” You take a small step back, bending down to pick up your discarded sketchbook. You flip to the drawing you had finished earlier that day, gently pushing the open book into his hands. “This is how I see you Erik. You are an angel, beautiful and radiant, even without the mask.” You whisper, giving him a soft smile. You hoped that he would eventually see himself as you saw him, as your angel, an angel of music.

[nerdyfangirl67]

Walk on a Winter Night - Phantom of the Opera Reader Insert (12 Days of Christmas)

Pairing: Erik Destler (Phantom) x reader

Warnings:

Word count: 845

Request: anonymous “a Christmas fic with our dear Erik destler where he and the reader are out for a rare walk during the night and she offers him tangerines? Hes very shocked by her kindness and there's a lot of fluff? They're friends but they're both secretively in love with each other (aka idiots in love)”

A/N: Here is another installment of my 12 Days of Christmas mini-series! The French comes from Google Translate (again) and is in italics. The image is taken from Google Images. On a sidenote, if anyone who knows French wants to tell me if the translations are correct, I’d love to know. Hope y’all are enjoying them so far! We are just about halfway through so there still is some Christmas cheer (aka fluffy fics) coming your way. Stay tuned!

It had taken you months to get Erik to feel comfortable enough to remove his mask around you. After all, the two of you were simply two lost souls connecting through the language of music, or at least that is what you lead Erik to believe. In reality, you has fallen so far in love with him that it went outside the bounds of friendship. But the day he had removed his mask in front of you, you had felt as though he had given you part of his soul, causing you to, somehow, fall even deeper in love with him.

It had taken even longer to convince him that it was okay to leave the catacombs underneath the Opera Populaire and travel out into the cobblestone streets of Paris. On a cold night in the middle of December, a week before Christmas, Erik finally agreed to go on a walk with you through the streets of Pairs. After prying him away from the organ, and his new composition, you bundle up in your cloak, which conveniently matched Erik’s, and gently take his hand, leading him up into the streets. The air is damp, smelling of rain and cold, as it greets the two of you upon exiting the tunnels. You let out a short laugh of glee, letting go of Erik’s hand to spin around, narrowly avoiding a puddle of water.  

“Can you feel it Erik?” You ask softly, moving back to his side as the two of you start walking down the deserted streets. He turns his head to you slightly, the hood of his cloak casting a shadow over the gleaming white of his mask.

“There is magic in the air.” You whisper in wonder, your gaze falling on the small, darkened shops of Paris. “It is dancing with it.”

Erik lets out a small laugh. “You could turn anything into poetry, ma chérie.”

You do not respond, instead, reaching into the small pocket of your dress and pulling out two tangerines. You stick out a hand, offering Erik a tangerine. “Would you like one?” You ask. He turns his gaze to you, the soft streetlights hitting his face just enough that you are able to see his facial expression, one full of confusion and astonishment.

“For me, ma chérie?” He counters, gently, true curiosity bleeding through into his voice. “Why?”

“That is what friends do. They care for each other and sharing is a way to show that.” You answer, carefully picking up his hand and placing the tangerine in it.

He looks at you one more time before giving the tangerine his attention, peeling it delicately with his long, thin fingers. You are so entranced by the way his hands move, that you forget entirely about the fruit in your own hand. You watch as he tastes a slice, a smile blossoming on his face at the sweet flavor. His eyes are twinkling when he looks back at you. “Je vous remercie, ma chérie.” His voice is gentle with a note of something akin to awe in it. A comfortable silence blankets not only the damp streets, but seemingly the two of you as well, as nothing much is said after that. You meander through empty city courtyards and down streets lit only by the eerie glow of the streetlamps.

Just as a cold sleet starts to fall, Erik takes your hand and pulls you under the overhang of one of the small stores lining the street. After letting out a soft gasp in surprise, you realize that you are flush against Erik, the quickened beating of his heart under your fingertips and his warm breath fanning over your neck.

“Erik?” You question, lifting your head to look into his eyes. An intense, burning look dominates his eyes, which are focused on your face. One of his hands comes up to cradle your cheek. You unconsciously lean into his touch, relishing in the comfort it gave.

“The kindness you have shown me is more than anything anyone has shown me in my life. I just do not understand what a bel ange like you sees in a deformed ghost of a man like me.” His voice is has a hard edge to it, completely contradicting the soft way his thumb is moving back and forth along your cheek.

You place a hand over the one he has on your face, taking it from your cheek and up to your lips. You place a gentle kiss on his palm before you speak. “I show you kindness because you deserve it, because you have given me more than I could ever need, or even want. I show you kindness because you are important to me.” You whisper, taking a deep breath to steel your nerves before adding, “I show you kindness because I love you.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. “Un miracle de Noël.” He whispers in response, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours in a kiss.