Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Author's Note: "For Your Entertainment" by Adam Lambert.

Author's Note #2: Happy Halloween, everyone! I'm curious, what are your plans for this coming Halloween night? Is anyone dressing up or having a movie marathon?

No escaping when I start

Once I'm in, I own your heart

There's no way to ring the alarm

So hold on until it's over

The Powerpuff Girls and the Rowdyruff Boys sat around in a circle in Professor Utonium's living room as they played a rousing game of Truth or Dare. In the last half hour, Butch admitted to crying like a baby during the Lion King, Bubble put teal hair dye in the professor's shampoo bottle, Buttercup wad dared to put on one of Blossom's dresses, and Boomer confessed to having a crush on Bubbles when they were younger. The ever-spinning bottle seemed to spare Blossom and Brick, who were sitting adjacent to each other, as they snacked on strawberries and whipped cream. So far, everyone else already had multiple turns, except for them—much to the Reds' lucky streak.

But their luck finally ran out when it was Butch's turn to spit the bottle. Around and around it spun, and finally stopped thirty seconds later—the bottle aiming between Brick and Blossom.

"By all means, ladies first," Brick said sheepishly, scooting a few centimeters away from the indecisive bottle.

"Oh, Brick, I had no idea you were such a gentleman," Blossom replied with a deadpanned tone as she raised a copper eyebrow.

"M'lady," Brick snorted sarcastically.

"I suppose it's my turn then," Blossom stated, slowly combing her fingers through her tresses of golden auburn.

"Truth or dare?" Butch asked, grinning as a plethora of opportunity presented itself. He salivated at the mouth with all the tremendous possibilities; he could dare her to strip off her shirt for the rest of the night or make Blossom dance a jig.

"Truth," she answered politely.

Fiddlesticks. "Um... Who was your first kiss?"

Blossom's shell-pink eyes shifted toward the shag carpeting as her cheeks began to match the scarlet color of her silk bow. "I wish I could tell you, Butch, but-"

"She's never been kissed," the red Rowdyruff Boy chortled next to her, an impish grin playing at the right-hand corner of his mouth.

"No!" Blossom protested, nudging her male counterpart in the stomach. She smiled when Brick started coughing, slightly winded by the blow. "I have been kissed. I just don't know who my first kiss belongs to."

"How is that possible?" Boomer inquired, a slight bit skeptical.

"Oh, brother," Buttercup muttered as she crossed her arms, readying her ears to hear Blossom's first kiss story for the thousandth time. "Here we go..."

"Sh! Be quiet!" Bubbles shouted in a high-pitched voice at her moodier sister, flailing her arms like a lunatic. "This is the best first kiss story ever!"

"Well, let's hear it, Blossom," Brick challenged nefariously.

. . .

A little over a year ago, Princess Morebucks was hosting yet another masquerade balls at her mansion; that year, she actually bothered to invite the Powerpuff Girls—it would have been a social travesty to her popular girl image if she didn't invite Bubbles, the newest asset to the cheerleading squad, as well as her sisters.

With nothing else to do that night, the Powerpuff Girls attended Princess' party that Saturday night, though Bubbles and Buttercip managed to find some last-minute dates in the forms of Pablo and Mitch. Not that Blossom cared that she went stag. If anything, she was kind of proud. Most of the boys at her school were much too intimidated by the pink Powerpuff Girl's super brain to approach her, too afraid of saying anything stupid—not that Blossom was known for being a snob. Her perfection was merely... humbling. Very much so.

That wallflower sat against the right wall of the rented ballroom, watching her sisters dance the night away with their respective dates. She let out a deflated sigh, starting to believe that she gussied herself up for nothing. Disguised at the (genderbent) Phantom of the Opera—black and white ribbons braided through her tendrils of autumn-red, wearing a white peasant-styled blouse and black-ruffle skirt, and a half-mask. Blossom easily had one of the most creative costumes at the ball, while everyone else simply wore their best outfits and slapped a mask on their faces. No effort.

Maybe she should have just gone home.

"Thank God," a deep voice murmured next to her. " I thought I was the only one who took this costume stuff too seriously."

Looking to her left, Blossom spotted a tall stranger leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his broad chest. His face was concealed behind a black mask, the velvet material over his upper face, while the stranger's eyes were obscured by a spandex veil. It took her a moment to decipher what his disguise was specifically—a long, burgundy-velvet coat with silk, golden threads embroidered at the seams, cross-skull cuff links, a brown-leather hat with a red feather sticking out from it, and of course, there was a silver hook attached to his arm.

"Captain Hook, I presume?" Blossom giggled, standing up next to him.

"Correct you are, my dear," he replied, bowing from the hips as the young lady slipped a hand over his open palm, and placed a kiss upon her bent knuckles. "What are you supposed to be? A dark, mysterious goddess come to take my heart? Perhaps a gorgon in disguise?" he inquired, using a voice modifier to deepen his voice slightly.

"I am the Phantomess of the Opera," the Powerpuff Girl replied. Very much in spite of herself, she was falling for his smooth talk. If it weren't for the cotton candy blush she was already wearing, her cheeks would have spilled her secret.

"I knew it! How fitting for a sexy creature that haunts my dreams at night," Captain Hook said. He placed Blossom's hand flat against his chest. "Your eyes... Only in my dreams could I memorize their impressive color." Blossom couldn't be sure, but she had a funny feeling that he was gazing into her eyes at the very moment—feeling the nervous throbbing of his heartbeat against her palm. "The beauty of your magenta windows has left a stain on my crimson soul, Phantomess."

Withdrawing her hand from his chest, Blossom quirked an eyebrow at her flatterer. "I bet you consider yourself quite the casanova, don't you?"

"Aye, lass," the pirate chuckled lightheartedly. "Every pirate trains himself in the language of romance to catch a lady's fancy." Captain Hook tucked his good hand up the opposite sleeve, conjuring a pink rose. "But my words are sincere, Phantomess."

Stunned as her offered her a rose, Blossom accepted the silver-tongued pirate's gift wordlessly. The gesture certainly put her heart in a flutter. Her brain couldn't quite give purchase to the notion that this stranger's compliments were earnest, but she was charmed all the same. His presence thrilled Blossom as though cerulean waves of electricity passed between the pair of teenagers.

"If this is a mere game you are playing, my heart will be your prize, you dastardly scoundrel," Blossom retorted, after a moment of silence.

"Your heart isn't a mere goal for me, Angel of Music."

"Oh?"

"Aye. 'Tis my birthright."

"Your birthright? I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, the sparks in the air between your soul and mine. Don't you feel the electricity?" Captain Hook clarified as one hand tenderly tugged on Blossom's, guiding her black stiletto heels toward the dance floor. "I dare say that you and I are soul mates, Phantomess."

The stranger pulled the teenage girl into his arms, their torso pressed together, as the slow dance changed into a more upbeat, bouncy song. Blossom bent one arm around his shoulders as he dipped her—one, wide hand tucked behind her lower back while the other, the hook, slid behind her knee. His hold on her was tender, but tight—possessive. She could feel the smoldering temperature of his hidden gaze wander along her body as he pulled her back up, their feet traveling around the ballroom floor as though they had performed this waltz a thousand times. Captain Hook was calculating each step expertly as he moved behind her. He, with his fingers woven with hers, twirled the Phantomess away from his chest, then back toward him.

As the song began to fade, Blossom's mysterious masked man, still standing behind her, slightly craned his neck as an index finger tilted her chin up—to have her painted lips meet his, in a gentle kiss. It last no longer than ten seconds, but Blossom was certain, as her eyes fluttered closed, that the starts must have exploded. His kiss was warm and soft. Magical.

. . .

"And then, when I opened my eyes, my pirate was gone," Blossom finished, tracing a finger across her bottom lip—the electric, tantalizing sensation lingered upon her mouth as she retold the memory.

"So romantic," her blonde sister sighed dreamily, squeezing a pillow between her arms.

"Wait, wait, wait," Butch complained, waving his hands. "So, some guy just kissed you? And you just let him?"

"Pirates are notorious for their thievery, but all he did was steal a kiss," Blossom answered, absentmindedly smiling.

"Hey, Brick," Boomer mumbled to his brother not-so discretely. "Didn't you go as Captain Hook, too?"

"Shut up," the red Rowdyruff grumbled, shoving Boomer away.

But it was too late.

"Oh, my god!" Buttercup exclaimed, rolling around the floor as she laughed and pointed at Blossom. "Brick kissed you!"