Your Satisfaction Guaranteed (Slight Phantom x Reader) (Is It To Your Satisfaction Part 2)
Requested by who?: Anonymous
Characters: Phantom, Reader, Andy, Shawn
Warnings: Phantom is a manipulative buttface, I may have cursed, and uh, idk, shrinkage, and not a happy ending.
A/N: This is Part Two for “Is It To Your Satisfaction?”. This was originally written in first person for my Creative Writing class so I apologize if I left in any I/my pronouns and/or the name I gave the main character (Tessa).
When you wake up, you put on your nicest outfit,, and go back to the bar. You take a seat, the same one you’d taken the night before, and wait. Some part of you hopes that Phantom will come back - he was an interesting man. Shawn smiles, asks you if you’d like anything to drink. You don’t usually drink early in the morning, but you order a scotch and continue to wait.
The magician is back on stage, although if by miracle he’s not half as bad as the night before. In fact, he’s better than any magician you’d ever seen before. Everyone is entranced, yourself included.
“How’s the entertainment today?” You tear your gaze away, and there’s Phantom sitting beside you, leaning against the bar and waiting for your response. You find yourself smiling. “Is it to your satisfaction?” There’s that question again.
“You guys sure do aim to satisfy, don’t you?” You ask, laughing.
“What kind of hotel would it be if we didn’t?” He asked with a wink. “So, the entertainment?”
“Much better.” You hum. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?” You inquired, watching Phantom as he swirled a finger around the glass bulb of his cane, seemingly uninterested in the entertainment.
“I might have.” He told you with a smile. “I have a… knack, for helping those with creative outlets.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be able to help a striving artist, would you?” You joked.
“So, you’re an artist?” He asked, perking up a bit. You seemed to have peaked his interest, and he leaned forward, not taking his eyes off of you.
“A striving one.” You said, finishing my drink. You’d drawn ever since you were a kid, but they’re never good enough. Not for you. “God, I would give anything to get better.” You told him, and it was the truth.
“Anything?” The question sends a chill up your spine, but you nod nonetheless. He stood suddenly, holding out a hand to you. “Come with me.” He said.
You hesitated. You barely knew this man, but seeing how well the magician got with his help, you couldn’t find myself saying no.
When you took his hand, Phantom led you out of the bar. You caught Shawn’s gaze and the look in his eyes shocked you. He looked… sad. You open your mouth to say something, but Phantom kept his pace. He brought you through the lobby, and through a door that read ‘employees only’. It was a narrow hallway with a handful of doors. As the two of you approached the end of the hall, Phantom turned to the left and grabbed the brass knob of a tall dark wood door, pushing it open, and lead you inside.
It was a mess. The light was dim, casting shadows using the piles of papers, and boxes full of books. Drawings and writings and instruments were spread out everywhere, and at the center of it all was large desk. Phantom released your hand, and took a seat behind said desk.
“Please,” he said, motioning to the seat across from him. “Sit.” You did so, waiting for what he had to say.
“So, you wanna be an artist, hm?” He opened a draw in his desk, shuffling through papers and files. “I can help you with that.” He pulled out a scroll, wrapped up in a red ribbon. As the pulled the paper free, it unraveled to its full length. Laid down, the paper covered the width of the desk. Beautiful calligraphy covered it from head to toe, and at the bottom was a signature line.
“A contract?” You asked, eyebrow raised.
“A contract stating that I,” he motioned to himself. “Will help you achieve your artistic dream. For a price, of course.”
“Oh, no, not money.” He said, waving you off. You frown, confused
“I look for something much more… spiritual.” You said nothing to that, just raise an eyebrow. He leans forward, as if to tell you a secret and you find yourself leaning in as well. He smiled as the words passed his lips. “Your soul.”
“My soul?” You lean back, certain he’s joking. It’s too cliche you tell yourself, but as your gaze meets his, you can tell he’s dead serious. “You mean metaphorically?”
“Oh no, doll. I’m quite serious.” He says, taking a pen from the same drawer. “You see, I have the ability to enhance the creative parts of people’s souls. I can take an actor and make him a lead. I can take a singer and put her at the top of the charts. I can take a magician and teach them magic overnight.” He holds out the pen, enticing you forward.
You never believed in the supernatural. You didn’t believe that someone could enhance the human soul, but you found yourself hooked on his every word. You couldn’t pull yourself away.
“It just takes one signature.” He handed you the pen, and you stared down at the crisp ink signature line for longer than you could remember. You don’t remember signing the contract, but there was your name, scribbled in black ink plain as day. Phantom handed you a sketch pad and requesting you draw something. Anything you wanted to.
You opened to the first blank page, and with the same pen, began your drawing. You don’t remember how long you sat there, but when you had finished every part of your body was aching. After a moment, you looked down at your masterpiece.
Phantom stood, slowly making his way over to you. He leaned on the back of your chair and chuckled.
“I am very handsome, aren’t I?” You set down the pen, your eyes never leaving the drawing. Out of everything I could have drawn, why was it him? You asked yourself “I have always admired human capability,” As he spoke, your thoughts became hazy. It was becoming harder and harder to stay awake. “That’s why I do what I do. I hope there’ll be no hard feelings.” With that, you blacked out.
When you woke from your daze, you found yourself lying on a wooden floor. You slowly got to your feet and looked around. You were shocked to find yourself concealed in a tall glass dome, from which you had view of an enlarged room - the same room you had stayed in the night before. You could tell because you saw your bag, sitting on the floor.
But it made no sense. You had just been in Phantom’s office. You couldn’t be here - you couldn’t be small like this.
I turned my head, gasping when you realized that beside me another glass jar, one that you recognized. When you’d looked at the knickknacks it had stood out to you - the figurine of the girl in the 50’s dress. But she was alive, and trapped in her glass casing. She sat, knees pulled to her chest, crying. You pressed your hand to the glass, but it wouldn’t budge. You began to panic. You called out to her, but if she heard you she didn’t react.
In that moment the door opened and Andy stepped inside. You called out to him too, but like a robot he moved to the bed, grabbing your bag and putting away what you hadn’t. When he finished, he finally turned to face you. He walked closer and closer until he towered over you. Slowly, he knelt down, and placed a finger on the glass dome, stroking it. He looked sad.
“I am so sorry, miss.” He said in a low tone, then he stood, straightening his tie as he did so. “I do hope you are satisfied.”
