Wip Tag Games!

Wip tag games!

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for the tag @mitsuki91 🥰

Fandom(s):

MCU: Eternals

Persephone!Eternal!Reader & Hecate!Eternal!Reader - more of a series of oneshots for this AU. Click on this masterlist if you are interested!

"The Adventures of Loca, Blanquita, and Poco" - also part of the above masterlist, but it includes OC children of Hecate!Reader and Druig. This takes place AFTER the emergence.

Some of these are more serious, while some are more stupid.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

"Feathers & Threads Soaked in Red" - Angsty Snowbaird AU with the addition of an ARMY of OCs. Some dark themes and a LOT of angst. Do not read if you are a minor.

I am very excited about this fic! This one adds a lot of lore to the Covey, or at least I tried to add a lot of lore to the Covey. I am also making a post of moodboards for the OCs along with some headcanons.

House of the Dragon

"Bound by Embroidered Chains" - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon. Ewan Mitchell has everyone in this fandom by their THROAT.

"Warmth & Stories" - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader. This part will have smut.

The first one has serious themes and a bi-coded OC, while the second is very fluffy.

The Originals/The Vampire Diaries

I haven't figured out a title for this one, but basically it's an idea about Henrik coming back from the dead when the Other Side collapsed and he managed to stay alive. He seeks out Caroline Forbes to help him return to Klaus in NOLA.

Kol & Hecate!Reader (same one from the eternals au I wrote) - Kol basically finds a better family and teacher than his siblings

Ansel is kept alive (magical baby plot? who's she?) and Klaus tells him to watch over Caroline's mom in Mystic Falls. Liz Forbes and Ansel may or may not end up...involved

I do not support Julie Plec's lady boner for the neanderthal that is Damon Salvatore. So, if you want me to write this out, pls keep this in mind.

And that's all I can really think of!

I will tag @valeskafics , @dreaming-for-an-escape , @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @lady-ashfade, @ethereal-athalia, @starogeorgina, @sylasthegrim, and anyone else who wants to join!

You don't even need to be a writer to play this game! It could also be an idea that you think is neat, and you just want to swap some thoughts!

Wip tag games!

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for the tag @soopsiedaisies 🥰

Fandom:

Harry Potter

"Until the end of the world", time!travel Severus Snape/Lily Luna Potter. It's on ao3, only italian for now, a monster story and one day I will finish it :v

"Tomorrow", time!travel Severus Snape/Lily Luna Potter. It's on ao3, only italian for now.

"The hunter", only the translation is a wip, it's a dead dove very very very dead about new gen.

"L'uomo del ritratto" ("The man of the portait"), time!travel Severus Snape/Lily Luna Potter. It's on ao3, only italian for now.

... So I had a format I see 😂 anyway some stories are more serious and some more idiot.

The ballad of songbirds and snaked

In the serie "The play of songbirds and snakes" I have the wip of the wedding ("Until the end of the night" etc) and after that I have three more short stories to write in this universe.

"Blooming in the snow" (don't know if I will use this title) is the angsty Snowbaird, I wrote only one chapter and I am still plotting (also I am exploring more characters and I love it)

It's only in my mind and has no title or a serious plot yet, but it's the Coriolanus/Lucy Gray/Sejanus one u.ù

... And that's it I suppose. I have more plot in my mind (expecially HP ones) but I don't think I will write anything else in the near future... I am all for Snowbaird now.

I will tag @giosnape @postmariannizm @cdragons and I don't remember yet other users who write but if you write Snowbaird pls let me know 😭

Holy fuck, this some dark af shit

…

I need more 👀 👀 👀

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: You’d only been visiting family at Saltburn for a few weeks, but this time you couldn’t shift the feeling of something or someone watching you.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking, stalking? Kind of?, two way mirrors, vague horror ish themes, dubious consent, generally fucked up smut overall

Writers note: Hi friends! This is my first Oliver fic, I’m planning on writing more so let me know if you have any requests. I’ve only seen the film once so I apologise if my writing of him isn’t quite right yet.. just read his parts with his accent and I think it works! Please share, comment, like and all of those good things 💕💕

21 days, almost a full month, that’s how long it had taken you to get to grips with the enormity of Saltburn. Most of that time had been spent mistakenly walking into a linen closet which supplied one of the many bedrooms believing it was the entrance to your room. You’d even drawn yourself a map by this point and somehow, you still managed to get lost, the house was almost as much of a maze as the actual maze in the garden was. You had checked off your room, all of the shared spaces and most of the other bedrooms, inhabited or otherwise, all marked down perfectly on your little map. There was only one wing of the house which you were not allowed into, Elsbeth called it the ‘bachelor pad’ something you know Felix would have at the very least groaned at. He’d been sharing this space with his guest, another student named Oliver. He was quiet, a bit of a mystery overall but from that you assessed that he was a man who liked his privacy, making you chalk up their reluctance to have you in that space no more than a matter of comfort. A comfort you wish that you could say you felt also.

You visited Saltburn many times as a child, the family themselves were distant relatives of yours which is why you always summered there when your parents were away on business. You’d never felt uncomfortable there before, but this time something was different even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the heat getting to you, maybe it was the ever changing list of house guests that visited or the way that it seemed the eyes on the paintings of long dead aristocracy seemed to follow you around the room. Something had changed, if only you could put your finger on it.. or a toe.. maybe even an out stretched palm if you felt confident enough, anything to make this restlessness end. Every night that you laid in bed, you felt something, someone, watching you. You had checked, you’d opened every door, searched every shelf and wandered into every linen closet in the vicinity of your room and every time, nothing. Your well drawn map granting you no ease of mind, even with all of the labels you’d added to it over the last few weeks. The constant tossing and turning ceased only by one saving grace, you’d remembered to pack your vibrator.

Every night like clockwork your little buzzing friend would find the tingling mound between your legs, slipping in and out seamlessly like always, making you cum within a few minutes. That was until tonight, maybe you should have expected it. 21 days in a row of usage, the batteries were sure to go flat at some point, you just didn’t think it would be so soon. Placing it into the draw of the bedside table you go back to the constant pacing feeling in your mind as you attempted to sleep. The watching feeling was back, the hairs on your arms standing up, the feeling of the familiar prickling at the back of your neck as if something dangerous was approaching from the shadows. But sleep finally took you, once again.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the wood of the door early every morning tore you from your sleep, a much needed sleep. The curtains being torn open and the light hitting your face remind you of where you are almost immediately, at least this time with the maids in your room you knew who was watching you. ‘Breakfast is ready’ she says as she leaves the room as promptly as she arrived, off to wake another of the Saltburn family without a doubt. Crawling out of bed in your white night dress, you throw on a matching robe over the top, fumbling your slippers on, briefly checking your reflection in the full length mirror mounted to the wall across from your bed before wandering down the long halls to the breakfast table. Taking your usual seat you notice no one else has awoken yet, your tired eyes settling on the food in front of you, you almost fall asleep sitting up eating. The exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with you. ‘You looked frustrated last night’ a low voice utters quietly a few seats across from you, the low muttering making you jump out of your skin with shock.

‘Excuse me?’ You question, a puzzled look on your face which could have been mistaken for anger, your words coming out harsher than you expected. You see the man across from you almost retreat into himself, he’d barely uttered a word to you in the last 21 days and now this? Your mind immediately flashing back to your frustration at your vibrator unceremoniously dying on you, surely that isn’t what he refers to tho.. right? ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so tired that came out poorly. what do you mean?’ You question, making Oliver un tense slightly.

‘I saw you looking for something last night’ he begins. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He questions.

‘Oh, That. I was just trying to get a better lay of the land. Every time i visit I swear this place is rearranged, it’s like a new house every time.’ You reply.

‘Sure, that must have been it’ he replies, no follow up, nothing. Although it was more of a conversation than you’d managed with him this whole time, you expected maybe something else would have come from this. He could have offered to help you, anything. Although you hadn’t spoken that much you’d find it hard to argue that you hadn’t developed a little crush on him, his dark hair in contrast with his piercing blue eyes, surely that would make any girl swoon.

Just as you finally thought of something to say, the thought of offering him an invitation to explore the mansion with you to further expand your map, the rest of the family arrived, keen to discuss plans for the day. Your hopes of getting to know Oliver better shattered once again.

You continued your day like normal, a dip in the pool, a little bit of reading, another trip to a random room to expand the map and eventually dinner and straight to bed.

Once again you were kept up, tonight you indulged in wine a little bit more than usual, the knowledge of the lack of batteries to fuel your only release weighing heavy on your mind.

Crawling into bed you listen to the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound of the old house almost swaying in the breeze as if that were possible. You try to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs as you long for sleep subtly grinding against the palm of your hand as you crave the release you know you can’t have. The feeling growing stronger and your movements becoming more unsubtle as you move the covers off of you, the fabric of your night dress pooling up around your hips as you grind, longing for that familiar feeling. ‘Ugh, fuck sake’ you groan, it’s of no use. You roll over frustratedly, your face buried in pillows as you let out a silent scream. That’s when you hear it, the floorboards creaking, the sound too loud to be from the hallway and it wasn’t just creaking this time, footsteps. But it couldn’t be, you’d locked the door to your room, the only other way in was through the window which you had ensured was locked.

‘Hello?’ You ask tentatively, sitting bolt upright in bed at this point. You weren’t sure if you prayed for an answer or not, at least if there were an answer you’d know for certain that you weren’t alone. But no answer came.

2:41am, you’d checked the clock at least 20 times by now every time you had almost drifted to sleep another creak on the floorboards would tare you from your dreams. It sounded almost as if they were getting closer, they’d began earlier by your mirror and by now they were approaching the head of the bed. Sometimes you even thought you could feel something touching you, lightly re arranging the way your hair fell on the pillow, or something lightly tugging at the blanket that covered your body. But this time you felt it for sure.

The weight on the bed shifted, while you lay in the middle, the bed dipped on the side, the unmistakeable feeling of someone sitting at the side of the bed. Another second and you felt it, a hand on your ankle wrapped tight. Terrified you sit, unable to move. You never imagined this is how you’d be in this position, you’d scream and fight when you’d imagined this scenario previously but you were wrong, so wrong. You lay there silently, only when you felt the grip on your ankle tighten did you even let on that you were awake as you were harshly dragged down the bed, now splayed out in the middle. Before you could scream a hand smacks over your mouth with a slap, silencing any sound that could have come out of you.

‘What were you thinking about?’ A voice in the dark asks, an accent of some sort laced in his words surely belonging to the owner of the strong hands currently pinning you against the bed. ‘Who were you thinking about?’ The voice continues, more demanding this time as the accent becomes clearer, Oliver? Surely not. The sweet, quiet man who sits across from you silenced by his own nervousness every breakfast, it can’t be him. You try to answer, your words muffled by the hand over your mouth, although you’re sure it would be less of an answer and more of a demanding to get out of your room.

‘Was it me? Tell me it was me.’ He demands, his hand dropping from your mouth to your throat, wrapped around tightly grasping at the column of your neck.

‘I-I Uhm’ your reply coming out as nonsense. He was right, you had been thinking of him. You’d seen his physique while sunbathing, sneaking a glance when you believed no one would notice. But now with his hand wrapped around your neck and his body pressing into yours your mind was blank.

‘Answer me’ he demands, hand tightening as his face grows ever closer to yours. At this distance you swear you can almost see the moonlight shining through the window reflecting off of his blue eyes, glimmering at you.

‘You.. it was you’ you stutter out quietly, your words shocking even you as they come out breathy and quiet.

‘What a good girl you’ve been for me’ he says, his grip loosening on your throat as he glides his index finger down your cheek.

‘Bu-but how did you.. where.. what’ you question, a full sentence becoming too much for your brain to handle, but the man on top of you seems to have gotten the gist of your line of questioning.

‘I’ve been watching you’ he replies. ‘You and your little map. Wandering around like you own the place’ his words laced with venom. ‘I’ll admit you did make it harder for me. You thought you were so smart checking everywhere, you never bothered to check within your own room’. He continues as your eyes fight with the dark, darting around every corner of the room. That’s when you spot it, the light reflecting off of the mirror slightly wrong, it was almost as if the glass was rippling, the reflection always seeming a little off, it was a two way mirror. From the spot where it was mounted on the wall, you realised that it was pushed slightly further than usual, the story all making sense in your mind suddenly. You hadn’t been imaging things, you had heard footsteps inside the room, someone was watching you, Oliver.

‘Our rooms share a serving corridor as these old houses do sometimes’ he says as if it was an obvious fact, something everyone would know. He could see a million questions whirling behind your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts as his soft fingers against your cheek suddenly turn into a slap, grasping your face turning your lips into a pout. ‘Now, I know what you do to sleep and I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your useless little toy there’ he sneers at you, you can almost feel his smirk against your lips as he comes in closer. This was nothing like the man you had vaguely come to know over the last few weeks, he was mean, cruel even and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you admitted that you liked it, you loved this version of Oliver. ‘I thought, just maybe if you’d get impatient enough you’d come to me yourself. But the little miss never came’ he continues, finding himself amusing at his own pun. ‘So I came to you’ putting extra emphasis on his words to make a point as to almost poke at you. ‘Now, I can either leave and go back to my room or I can help you with your predicament. Would you like that?’ He questions, still holding your face in his hands ensuring you look straight into his eyes as your head nods, partially guided by Oliver’s hand moving your face for you. ‘Good girl’ he places a light peck onto your lips. ‘The former was never really an option anyway, did you really think I could leave all this now that I have you here?’ His question sounding more like a statement, he didn’t care about your answer, he decided you belonged to him the moment he stepped into the room. His hand slips from your face, grasping your throat once more before climbing further onto the bed, throwing the covers off of you and pushing your night dress up.

He sighs, the view of you almost making him cum on the spot. Oliver never imagined he’d actually do it, sure he’d thought of the thousand ways he could take you, he wanted to bend you over and fuck your brains out over the breakfast table every morning for the last month and now, in this single sigh he released a months worth of frustration. His desperate hands kneading at the supple flesh of your thighs, roaming up to where he was at his most desperate for you. The moment the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit a jolt of electricity raced through your body, moving you with a shocked flinch against the bed. His eyes bore into yours as if almost warning you to stay still, a warning you would absolutely heed. His eyes transfixed on yours as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nub, gathering slick from your entrance just to return to your clit, your climax building from the moment he touched you. You were almost there, your peak was in sight you could feel it building when he tore his hand from you. A smirk pressed against his lips as he bent down to kiss you, he was proud, he ruined your orgasm and he was proud of it. Just as you settled into the lack of his touch, his lips hovering against yours he plunged his fingers into you, without warning a loud gasp leaving your lips. You knew you’d fucked up the moment the sound left your mouth, his fingers being pulled from you once more.

‘Good girls stay quiet, do you understand me? We wouldn’t want the rest of them finding out how much of a whore you are now would we?’ He sneers, your heart rate increasing as you nod your head again. ‘Such a good girl for me. I’ll make sure to reward you, just stay quiet for me’ he continues, his words softer this time as his fingers return to your warm, wet entrance.

It was harder to stay quiet than you expected. His pace was relentless and now as he kissed down your body, your night dress torn from you and the remaining scrap of fabric now discarded to the floor, the want to moan for him was overwhelming. This was only made worse when his lips wrapped around your sensitive mound. His tongue and fingers moving at the same time, sucking on your most sensitive parts like a man starved. He was desperate for you and now, you were for him. You couldn’t resist it and he could tell, your climax was imminent as you rocked your hips against his mouth. From watching you he knew that you covered your mouth with your hand or bit down onto your fist when you came in an attempt to muffle the sounds. To compensate for this, at the moment your shaking orgasm rippled through your body he shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own juices heavy on your tongue as he suckled and licked you through your peak, his eyes still fixed on yours.

You thought that was it, he said he wanted to help you and he had, you’d half expected him to leave when he tore his own shirt over his head, pushing his boxers down his thighs as he pushes your legs further open with the weight of his own body. With one hand next to your head and his other white knuckle grasping his cock he glided his length through the slick of your pussy. His lustful gaze had left yours now, favouring watching his tip spread you wide for him. Just as your eyes left his face to watch the sight between your legs you were interrupted. ‘Look at me’ he demands ‘I want to see the look on your face when I split you open’ his words being of continuous shock to you, where had your quiet kind man gone?

Although you’d hate to say he was correct, he was. Even with your drenched hole and your legs spread wide for him the burn as he entered you was real. He was unbelievably thick and long, his length impaling you again and again as he begins thrusting into you relentlessly. He was as desperate for release as you were, maybe you should have known, your sweet man in his full right mind would surely never break into your room and do this to you if he wasn’t desperate you reassured yourself. This can’t be the real him after all, it had to be an act.

These thoughts stayed with you for merely seconds as your eyes rejoined his as they flutter open, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan just like his. As if you could both feel the sound about to release your lips came crashing together, muffling the sound of your joint moans as his tongue slips into your month. It was a dirty, sinful act and you loved every second of it. You’d never felt this desperate for anyone in your life. You wanted him to cum inside you, breed you and make you his.

‘Once I cum inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand? I fucking own you’ he says, making you question if he has a future in a career in mind reading. He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the feeling of your walls tightening around his length as the only reply he would ever need again.

His pace quickens his body pressed against yours as his hand clasps over your mouth silencing you, your head held still as he glares into your eyes. You can feel it, his climax nearing, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as he breaks his own rule, groaning loudly into your kiss as he cums within you, his liquid filling you to the brim. The sound reverberates against the walls, someone must have heard that you think as he continues to fill you up. Just as you think he’d stopped, almost possessively he begins to move again. The feeling overwhelming both of your senses as he fucks his cum further into you before pulling out and repeating the same process with his fingers, watching a little bit trickle out before pushing it back inside you once more.

‘You’ll keep this inside you, you understand? You don’t get to clean yourself up’ he demands. ‘You’ll be a good girl for me tomorrow, at 10pm sharp you’ll get into the bath across the hall and wait for me. Got it?’ His demands continue as he places one last harsh kiss onto your lips, your eyes flickering closed for only a second, re opening when your kiss has parted. Just like that he was gone. His clothes, every part of him had left you almost without a trace. Your night dress torn on the floor you ponder how you’ll explain that to the maids in the morning as they’ll have to fix it. You cover yourself with the blanket again, your head pressed against the pillow as you finally go to sleep, the best you’ve slept in 21 days.

Message to be added to the tag list! - current tag list: @idontevenknow1359

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

Next Part

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: To my very lovely and wonderful friend and beta reader Bel, aka @valeskafics, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's! This is the first part of this fic gift I wanted to give you, and I promise the next part will have smut! I hope you like this fic and can feel my love and appreciation for you. Bel, you are one of my favorite writers of all time and a huge reason I began posting fanfics and writing in the first place. I am so grateful that you opened a whole new world for me, and I hope this year gives you lots of happiness.

Warning(s): Slight cursing, Reader's parents were killed, Daemon's an ass, Viserys is a negligent father, Westeros is Westeros, dysfunctional family shenanigans

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known to be many things. Proud. Serious. Studious. All things one should be proud of in a young man’s position. Every single one of his teachers and wet nurses sung praises of the young prince since he began to toddle. And although it might seem cruel to admit it, the second prince was the apple of the Queen’s eye and the clear favorite of her four children.

Her sweet Aemond was a mild, studious young boy who practiced his faith in the Seven despite his blood lineage belonging to the Old Gods of Valryia. Besides Aegon, he had always been respectful to his siblings–especially to his elder sister, Helaena. Aemond would often humor his sister’s strange ramblings and gift her with little creatures he found as he wandered the ancient walls of the Red Keep. Helanea, despite all her reclusiveness, only seemed comfortable enough to be touched with her younger brother and often offered comfort whenever he complained about how unfair it was that he still had no dragon. His sister was as fond of her younger brother as he was of her and would usually humor his requests.

Except now.

“Please?” Aemond had been pleading for over an hour, reaching a point where most would pity him.

“No,” replied his sister sternly, “I’ve already told you my answer won’t change.”

“But why?” he pathetically asked as his voice cracked. It was good that Aegon was still in his room, too drunk to start the day. Aemond would never have lived it down without allowing his brother to see him like this. “I won’t ask for anything else from you, I swear it.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But why?” demanded Aemond. “I would never harm (Y/N). Name one person in the Seven Kingdoms who would treat her better than I?”

Too upset by his sister’s refusal, the prince stormed out of the room in a near-blind rage.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no noblewoman or someone with any particularly wealthy connections or background. You weren’t even someone born within the Walls in the North.

No, you were from a tribe of wildings that hailed outside the Wall and were brought within the borders after your parents were caught stealing. The Starks decided to spare when they realized their daughter was just a tiny child with an incredible talent for storytelling. Within a year, the tales that Y/N wove with her tongue had reached the ears of Aemond’s father, King Viserys of House Targaryen. The King was fascinated by the young girl beyond the Wall, who spun tales of giants and spirits from the Land of Always Winter. He spared no expense in bringing you to King’s Landing.

Aemond could remember the day so clearly, as you arrived very shortly after his bastard nephew took his eye in Driftmark, and his father did nothing but protect his whore of a half-sister. When brought into the keep, you could hardly present yourself to a room full of nobles, let alone the King. You stood before his father and family barefoot and filthy. Your clothes looked closer to rags and torn cloth, and your (h/c) mane was wild with a few braids and feathers. But that hardly mattered. As soon as you opened your mouth, it was as if everyone in the Great Hall had been transported to another world.

The story you told started with a young princess given a toy soldier named the “Nussknacker.” The young princess loved her little toy soldier so much that her sweet Nussknacker came to life one night. He told the princess a prince to a winter wonderland full of fairies, sugar plums, and magic. His home had been overtaken by a maniacal Rattenkönig, and he turned the prince into his current form. The soldier and princess had to face many trials, but they were successful in defeating the evil Rattenkönig and saving the prince’s kingdom. The Nussknacker turned back into the handsome prince he had always been, and he and the princess married to lead his kingdom into prosperity.

By the time you finished telling your story, the Royal court went ablaze with applause. Your pretty words and skillful tongue enraptured every noble. They longed to hear more of your stories and were starved for entertainment. His father was in an especially jolly mood after hearing your tale. He immediately appointed you as the troubadour of the Royal Court held in protection under the Royal Targaryen House. A proclamation that horrified both the king’s Hand and the Queen, to say the least. It was no secret that Aemond’s mother and grandfather did not look favorably on you. More than once, he heard his mother seethe in anger at the attention her husband gave to you as you sat beside him during his father’s pain flares. In her eyes, you were a savage hellion who likely spread her legs up from the Wall in the North to the Great Hall of the Red Keep in the South.

But in Aemond’s eyes, you were an angel. It was not only his father’s pain you soothed with your stories, but also his own. He tried his best to keep his distance from you, but it wasn’t long until you gained his sister’s favor. From then on, whenever he spotted Helaena, you were by her side. The tall and icy walls he tried to maintain around you came crashing down before he knew it. His mother so loved him because he always did as she instructed, including to remain far away from the new child from beyond the North.

But one night, the scar on his eye had been so painful that he gained a fever that lasted for nearly a week. The maesters weren’t sure if he would survive the sickness, as it was a result of his lost eye being inflamed. His mother had resigned herself to crying by his bedside while his sister would sit with him and talk about her day. But one night, when he was delirious with pain, you somehow managed to sneak in from one of the secret tunnels within the keep’s walls. He couldn’t see you, but he recognized your voice. He wanted to scream for you to leave his room, threatening that he would call over the guards standing outside. But then you spoke, and it seemed as if his world of pain had just washed away. You spoke to him about the history of Old Valyria and the beautiful tales of dragons and knights that were lost in time. This continued on every night during his ailment.

“Do you miss your parents?” Aemond asked you one night. But he immediately regretted his question when he saw how your shoulders tensed.

“Sometimes,” you replied after a few moments of silence, “I understand that they are in a better place, wherever they are. But sometimes I wish they were here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“But you have Helaena to be with you. Even my father adores your company.”

You only scoffed in response.

“Helaena is wonderful,” you bitterly continued, “I am glad to have a friend as sweet and kind as her in this poisonous hellhole you call home. But your father-” you paused a moment to lick your lips to figure out how to phrase your thoughts – “all he sees me as is a toy. A commodity. A funny little object that he bought to entertain him. He never mistreated me but does not respect me as a person, let alone as a subject.”

The tears in your eyes welled to the point where they almost spilled, and you immediately stopped talking to prevent further incriminating yourself.

“You have no idea what it’s like-” you let out a bitter laugh before continuing to cry – “to have your family taken away from you. To watch your parents be executed before your eyes when you were only a small child. And for what? Stealing a loaf of stale bread? What should that matter to the Starks? They have their pretty castle with warm fires and fur blankets. My mother and father worked for everything they had in order to care for me. Now here I am, away from the silver winter I called home and stuck in the shit-odor that covers precious South.”

“However much you hate your family, at least you still have them. I have no one. No one to share my culture and past with, no one to understand your customs and way of life. Call my parents whatever you want. Savages. Thieves. Scum. But they loved me. However little it was, they taught me to be proud of myself. They were my whole life, and now they’re gone.”

You ran out of his chambers and back into the wall. Aemond didn’t see you for several days, even after his fever broke and the maesters told his mother he would live. Two weeks passed, and Aemond felt as if he were going mad. When he finally spotted you in one of the more secluded areas of the library, he grabbed your arm before you could scurry off.

“Tell me,” he told you. “Tell me everything about your parents, your home. Tell me about how the air was clean and clear. Tell me about how everywhere you looked, you saw white snow and clear ice. Tell me how much you loved your family, pets, friends – if you had any. I don’t care what it is. Tell me everything.”

At first, you only stared. He couldn’t tell if you were furious or in shock. But soon, your eyes lit up as if you had been given five hundred gold dragons.

“Where do you want me to start?” you asked him, eyes wide with joy and a heart finally learning to trust.

Lo and behold, he found his heart beginning to feel the same.

“Wherever you want.”

The smile you gave him was worth more than all the money locked within the Royal Treasury.

So many nights since that day, you would sit by his bedside, speaking so prettily that even the most brutal of their acts and customs fascinated Aemond. You would burn the midnight oil, telling him about the adventures and raids of the Free People beyond the Wall. That’s how you referred to yourself as a “free woman.” While you despised the title “savage,” you did not mind being labeled as “wilding.” You claimed that since you were born outside the Wall, the laws of Westeros did not apply to you. You have been seen as wild, but you knew in your heart that you were born free. And what was more impressive to Aemond was how you honestly and sincerely believed that you were born as a free woman.

He saw it in the way you would make little shadow puppets shows to bring a smile from Daeron after it was announced that he would leave for Oldtown.

He heard it in how you got the cooks to spit on your name after stealing bread from kitchens and then giving it to the small folk children living in impoverished areas of Flea Bottom.

He smelt it in how your hair would always smell like the wind in the Godswood to ride his horse when you were supposed to be learning your letters with the Head Septa.

He tasted it when you let him take a sip of that rotten ale you made in secret when you went through one of your horrible bouts of homesickness.

He felt it in how you raced to his chambers to hug him after he woke up from another nightmare of the memory of that night when he lost his right eye.

You were the strangest mystery Aemond had ever and will ever know. No matter how long he spent searching for answers in his favorite corner of the library, Aemond could never understand how someone with a heart as warm as (Y/N) could come from the frozen wasteland she loved to call home.

With a single but powerful stroke of his blade, Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s upper jaw fell as the rest of his body dropped to the floor. Visenya’s Dark Sister had once more bathed in its victim’s blood. Gasps and shrieks filled the Great Hall at the sight of dark blood oozing from his corpse. The members of the Royal members all had varying reactions. From his mother’s side, Helaena immediately covered her eyes and turned away – utterly horrified by the swift mutilation. Aegon grimaced but was otherwise unaffected. Not surprising. He’d seen similar carnage from the illegal fight rings run in Flea Bottom. Aemond took a slight step back in shock as he gaped at the now-deceased lord in mild admiration.

He had no idea tongues were so long.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood before his ailing brother, tall and proud. There was not a twinge of remorse or regret on his youthful visage as he towered over the spilled blood soaking his boots. Undoubtedly, this man carried the blood and fire of the proud dragons that graced their house.

“He can keep his tongue.”

Brutish as Daemon was known to be, Aemond respected his uncle’s instinct to remove objects that voiced slander against his wife. However much of a whore his half-sister may be, she was still of royal blood and their father’s firstborn.

However, he wasn’t sure how much that last fact mattered, considering how she spread her legs to swill only to produce bastards as her heirs.

His grandfather ordered the Kingsguards to disarm his uncle, but Daemon only scoffed as he wiped the blood off his ancient blade with an old rag. Moments later, Aemond’s decaying father collapsed on the Iron Throne in exhaustion after over-exerting himself. His mother immediately rushed over to aid him when she heard his pained groans.

“Call the Maesters!” she shouted before reaching him. And when his father fell into her arms, that was the first time Aemond saw you throughout this entire proceeding.

You stood close to the walls, remaining present but unseen. It was not until his father called for you by his side that he removed you from your hiding place. You and an apprentice Maester took Viserys to his chambers, leaving behind his wife, children, grandchildren, and every member of the Royal Court. As Aemond watched you carry his hobbling sire to his chambers – likely to recite to him a passage of the History of Old Valyria or one of the many tales surrounding Queen Visenya’s practice of the dark arts – his blood froze as he noticed Daemon’s gaze was focused not on his brother, but on you.

An hour had passed since Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s unfortunate passing, and Aemond was still no closer to finding you. He felt as if he was going mad in desperation. He checked everywhere. The kitchens, catching you sneak bites of freshly baked honey cakes. The stables, to find you feeding the mares and stallions carrots and apples. Your chambers, spying through the keyhole as you sat at your desk writing new stories. He even went so far as to ride to the dragonpit, hoping that you were reading to Vhagar again. He was close to announcing an order to search for you to the closest Kingsguard when he spotted you standing underneath the Heartstree. When another figure approached you, the one-eyed prince was about to call out your name.

Daemon. And judging by the way his violet eyes leered at your womanly form, it was clear to Aemond that this meeting was no coincidence. Aemond stepped out of view and pressed himself close to the garden’s entrance. The silver-tressed prince cursed himself for not publicly claiming you so everyone knew you were his and his alone. Differences in stations mattered little when you grew up so beautifully.

A fact he was sure that did not go unnoticed by his uncle despite meeting you for the first time.

Not for the first time did Aemond find himself cursing the gods for creating perfection in a single woman. Time had been unkind to many but seemed to spare you of any misfortune. While you were far from the polished and perfect image of a proper lady, you slowly but surely assimilated yourself to life in the South of the Wall. You traded your hides and furs for dresses and trousers. Your wild (h/c) mane became untangled by his sister’s ladies-in-waiting frequent brushings. Regular meals and proper care took a starving child with sharp, bony jabs to a woman with soft, feminine curves and beauty rivaling the Maiden herself.

“How have you found your time so far from the wall, little wilding?”

“I spent every waking second soaked and flushed from sweat and heat. To make it worse, I can’t escape the shit and piss that stains and bathes your pretty keep. Tell me, does that answer your question, my prince?”

Daemon barked a short laugh, amused that his brother took in someone so clearly different from the court’s usual vultures.

“When I heard my brother had taken in a little girl from outside the wall as his little entertainer, I was expecting a hobbled cripple caked in dirt with no sign of grooming. But here you stand, appearing more like a proper lady than a savage wildling.”

“You can take the girl from the North, but you can never take the North from the girl.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

Aemond smiled at your quick wit and tongue. You were still every bit of the girl dragged before his father when he was only ten name-days old, even if you changed a little bit.

You still styled your hair with the little braids commonly worn in the North, but sometimes, he would catch Helaena tucking feathers in your locks.

You still carried your father’s old hunting knife on your person, but you also kept the Valyrian steel dagger Aemond gave you on Yuletide Eve from three years past.

You still made frequent trips to pass the bread to the small folk in Flea Bottom; you always made sure to help lead Aegon back to his bed after he drank himself stupidly.

It was a challenge, but you’ve adapted and made a life here with the Royal Family, whether you liked it or not.

“Do you ever plan on coming out from behind the wall, my prince? Or do you plan on renouncing your title and becoming Master of Whispers on your father’s small council?”

Realizing that his cover has been blown, Aemond brought himself in view to face the wildling girl who had stolen his heart almost eight years ago. He was relieved that his uncle had left the gardens, probably to inseminate his half-sister once more. It was as if she needed more children to convince all of King’s Landing that her claim on his brother’s throne was legitimate and valid. It did not matter that the evidence of her whorish nature was growing before their eyes.

“Careful, my lady,” replied Aemond, “one might think your words as treason towards the prince.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “the only people who continue to insist on taming my tongue are your mother and grandfather. And we both know my opinions of both parties.” Your cheeks began to flush, and your demeanor grew shy as you whispered your following words. “Besides, why would I need to be afraid of anything when I have you?”

Oh, how his cold, bitter heart grew ten times warmer with your sweet words. He removed his black riding gloves, reached for your hands, and was taken aback by how cold your skin felt against his own.

As if afraid of his voice, he cradled your hands softly as if he were the hunter and you were a little snow rabbit on the edge of running away. Your unblinking observation persisted as you silently watched your silver-haired prince raised both of your hands to his pink lips. He took in a deep breath before exhaling out. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent chills down your back. His mouth was opened just enough for you to see his tongue, bringing a deep sense of shame to wash over you as you dreamed of how good it would feel to have his tongue feast on your cunt.

“What possessed you to come outside without a cloak?” The low timbres of his voice broke you from your lust as you just now realized that you brought yourself into his trap. “It is already winter (Y/n). You could grow sick if you are not careful.”

“You forget yourself, Aemond,” you replied, tearing your hands from his grip. You almost wept at how profoundly you felt the loss of his warmth. When did his hands become so rough and big? “I have the true North in my veins. Such meek and pitiful clouds and winds could never get me ill.”

“Why were you outside at all?” Aemond had hoped to find you in one of the rooms with a fire roaring inside. Even if you were not alone, you would have been warm.

“Thinking about home, I suppose. I was tiny, but I would help gather whatever wood was available and put it in a big pile. We would put on our ceremonial furs and robes, along with masks we painted from the skulls of our kills. After that, the adults would drink themselves stupid on ale and heated yak’s milk as they and the children would gather around the wood pile and then burn it. I remember dancing with my parents around the fire as we sang praises for the old gods and yelled out prayers for the sun. A few boys would probably try to sneak some kisses from the girls with mistletoe.”

The silence that followed only added to the tension.

“I think I would have been stolen by now.”

“Stolen?”

“Your Southerners version of ‘marriage,’ I suppose,” you stated as you lightly shrugged, “at my age, if you weren’t stolen, it meant that something was wrong with you. If I remained with my tribe, some man would have stolen me by now and pumped me full of his babies.”

Aemond saw red. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles further paled to an almost translucent view of his veins as he imagined some savage, wildling man forcing himself on you. He wanted to ride Vhaghar beyond the North, if only reaching beyond the Wall and burning it all to the ground. No man other than him was allowed to touch you. He had only touched your hand and already decided that the rest of you belonged to him and him alone.

Taking a few steps closer to you, he removed his leather patch and lifted your chin between his fingers to force your focus on him. His ears caught a slight intake of breath when you saw his sapphire eye as he was so close that he could practically feel your heart racing in anticipation. He preened in satisfaction when he caught your perfect (e/c) irises dart down to his lips before resting his face again. Aemond didn’t need to look down to know that you were clenching your thighs in an attempt to stop your arousal from leaking.

His sister’s approval be damned.

If your traditions dictated that you must be ‘stolen’ to be a wife, then he would be the one to steal you.

“Sweet (Y/n), you’ve grown so cold.”

Do you wish to go back?

His face was so close to yours that you could feel breaths mix with your own. You could smell the fine leather of his tunic, and the fragrance of spices from his silvery locks wrapped you in a blanket of comfort. His violet eye’s gaze showed a vulnerability lost since that night in Driftmark. The night when he gained a dragon at the cost of becoming a cripple. If Aemond was to risk everything he’s worked for, he had to know.

Would you, a Free Woman, let yourself be called as his?

“No, my Aemond” - you took his hands in yours to tenderly kiss his knuckles- “not anymore.”

I am right where I belong.

And he believed you.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade , @faesspace, @its-actually-minicika, @aphroditesmoon, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @leavemeoutofitlay

Feathers & Threads Soaked in Red - Masterlist

Read from beginning on AO3! (DO NOT INTERACT IF UNDER 18)

Idea that started this fic

Moodboards & Headcanons for Crass Family

Moodboards & Headcanons for Snow Family

Moodboards & Headcanons for Drake Family

Moodboards & Headcanons for District 12 Covey

Moodboard & Headcanons for Capitol People

HAPPY NEW YEAR

I will list my top 10 favorite pairings I've shipped throughout 2023 for funsies. These aren't in any particular order, I just came up with a list from the top of my head. If anyone wants to join in, please do so!

Snowbaird (this ship has me in a fucking CHOKEHOLD)

Me x Robb Stark (King of the North)

Me x Aemond Targaryen (babygirl war crime)

Me x Druig (one look and he got me)

Me x Ethan Landry (6 ft virgin madman in baby blue)

Me x Ikaris (...my fav hetero to hate but love bc Richard Madden)

Me x Jon Snow ( "i dON't wANt It")

Me x Theon Greyjoy (sea bitch)

Me x Rhaenyra Targaryen (dommy mommy)

Me x Jacaerys Velaryon (prettiest boy with the worst posture)

I won't be judged for self-shipping right?

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @faesspace, @marvelescape, @its-actually-minicika, @lady-ashfade, @aphroditesmoon, @mitsuki91, @3vergr3en

PS: Hopefully I will have posted an Aemond x Reader fic by the end of tomorrow, so wish me luck!

Dude! Please tag me if you continue this story! It’s a cool concept for the characters and takes a spin on one of my favorite musicals!

Golden eyed phantom ch 1

Pairing Druig x reader

Rating explicit 18+ only minors ageless blank and non unadapted blogs will be blocked.

Plot: phantom of the opera au

Warnings: Some smut (im still learning how so go easy on me) fingering, dream sex, mind control but not dark)

The opera de popular was one of the crown jewels of paris, a place where dreams and nightmares can become a reality. It’s also where young (y/n) (l/n) found themselves living after the untimely death of their only living relative, their father.With no living family and no prospective husband (y/n) would have been homeless if not for Madame Ajak,the kindly dance instructor of the opera and a dear friend to the girls late father.

Madame Ajak became the mother you never knew, kind, caring, always able to cure any physical ailment that seemed to bother her or anyone else, with Madame came Sersi. She was another girl that had grown up in the opera. Madame Ajak was unable to have children of her own so she adopted Sersi when she was just a baby. The young woman was only a few years older then (y/n) and the two became fast friends. Sersi showed you the ins and outs of the opera house, really the ins and outs of Paris. Many times she would take you out and about to learn about your new home and everything in it including the rest of the people that would make up your new family. The first members you met came in the form of Gilgamesh and Thena.

Gilgamesh was the chief of security for the opera house. He was a giant boulder of a man well built and very intimidating at first glance, that is until he smiles at you and turns into the giant teddy bear he is. Always making sure all of us are safe and sneaking in baked goods every now and then. You wouldn’t know just from looking at him but he was an amazing baker, especially his pies they were to die for. With Gilgamesh came his partner Thena,she was gorgeous a goddess without even trying. She was the stunt, fighting and weapons expert for the opera and many other production houses in Paris. Many people thought she was a model but the mere thought made her grimace, “Why would I want to be a model and have to care what everyone thought of me?” Even though she had a tough exterior she was also very kind in her ways. Thena was determined for all of us younger girls at the opera to be able to protect ourselves, teaching everyone basic self defense and warning signs and so on and so forth. She was truly a ferocious mama bear if she wanted to be, to you she just became a protective aunt.

Next up was, without a doubt, your favorite trio, Phastos,Sprite and Makkari. All three worked backstage, keeping the opera house running as fabulously as it does. Phastos was the head engineer/ prop master. If something needed to be built he was the guy, his creations awe inspiring, some looking as though they had come straight out of the future, but he was still humble enough to answer any questions you or anyone had about the devices. Alongside Phastos worked sprite. She was young that was undeniable but boy was she talented, A true artist she was the head set designer and painter. Everything she created was so stunning you couldn’t even tell it wasn’t real. While Phastos was somewhat humble, Sprite was spunky, quick witted and sharp tongue when wronged. She halted being looked down on because of how young she looked and would lay into anyone who belittled her.

Makkari was a completely different story, even though she was deaf that did not stop her. Always with a kind smile on her face she ran around helping pull everything together. She was the resident lighting and stage hand always in the right place at the right time, almost like there were seven of her. When she wasn’t working she would be in the shopping district, dragging (y/n) with her to oogle all the shiny and sparkly Knick knacks, all the beautifully colored fabrics and imports coming in. In fact that's how Kingo was introduced.

Kingo was a fashionista, a real eye for how to make everyone look their best with one look.he was the opera's resident costume designer / understudy. Kingo dreamed of being on stage; he knew all the words, all the songs, everything, but sadly his time in the spotlight had not yet come. Everyone always reassured him his time would come, in fact you would always run lines with him whenever he was feeling down, he was over the top dramatic for sure but so entertaining. Probably the only thing more entertaining was picking on him with sprite and makkari. His reaction to the twos joke always brought a smile to your face, and was almost a bonding experience with the other girl.

During the day there was enough to distract you from your sullen thoughts. In particular the formation of a new found family, always there to relieve you of your boredom and loneliness but at night it was a different story. About a month after you had arrived you sat in the opera's small chapel, lighting a candle for your fathers soul. You guess your gentle weeping is what brought forth the angel's song, but all you really remember is the gentle glowing gold of the candles or at least you think it was the candles but you didn't really care as the feelings of calm wash over you with the soft timber of the angel's voice. At night or really whenever you were alone the angel would speak to you. Teach you the ways of the opera house and the music that went along with it. He was a mystic presence, always there but never in reach.

He invaded your whole life, when not learning from him at night your dreams started turning to him.

It would start with his voice, hearing it in your head as you drifted to sleep, the scene would change to a candle lit backdrop, soft smells of vanilla fill the air, a dreamy feeling wanders around you, then you would feel hands wrap around you. They were strong, long fingers as they wandered up and down your frame. You dare not turn around not wanting the feelings he provokes from you to end too quickly.

You watch as those glorious hands gently slide up your leg taking your thin night shift with them until they reach your core. A branding iron of heat in eloping you as he probes you. Fingers lightly playing with your clit as his lips caressed your ear, words ringing through your very soul it felt

“My beautiful beautiful muse, I've waited so long for you. I’ll never forget the day I first heard your voice, it was like hearing a blessing.”

You couldn’t even articulate words to reply to him shivering as hard as you were from merrily his touch.

“I can not wait for the day you truly belong to me. Mind. Body. And soul”

You feel his fingers stroking in tune to his words. Marking his point deep within your walls, but before you are able to climb to the peak a loud ringing sounds from beside you

“Ignore it”

You try of course but the ringing doesn’t stop. With each ring the scene around you shakes, deteriorating back into the blackness that waits behind your rapidly opening eyes. You sit up in shock, eyes trying to adjust to your bedroom as your alarm rings beside you. Your body still shivering from the after effects of the dream you just had.

Five years had passed, under your teachers guidance your gift bloomed but the only people you would even attempt to try to sing for would be your new family, and that was only light humming. The dreams became normal as well. Usually they happened after working with your mysterious and gracious master. You never learned anything more about him. All you knew was his voice but the one in your dreams seemed to evolve.

First was his hands and then his arms then his legs,his back,even a head of dark brown hair. But never his face. It was starting to vex you honestly, every time waking up from the pure euphoria of those dreams too have reality slap you in the face of how lonely you felt. Not that your new family did not appease your heart, in fact being with them was as natural as breathing. To be honest you couldn't describe what was wrong with you, all you could summarize it as was that it felt like part of you was missing.

A week after your 24th birthday the new owners of the opera appeared and with them came someone familiar.

“Listen up everyone!” Mr Richard's the old owner calls to everyone, all of us currently gathered on the main stag rehearsing the latest show

“I would like to introduce the new owners of the opera Monsieur Nelson and Monsieur Murdock.”

Everyone claps all clambering around to get the best views of the two young owners. You had to admit neither were horrible looking, you thought it was interesting for a blind person to want to buy an opera but it made sense to, even if he couldn’t see the performances, listening to them was the next best thing.

‘Thank you all, thank you we are both very happy to start our adventures in the arts.” Mr Nelson started “We would also like to introduce our generous backer Count Ikaris de solar.” Finished Mr Murdock to when a handsome brunette stepped onto stage to everyone’s approval and applause.

“Ikaris?” You gasped out as everyone continued to clap and awe over the count

“Do you know him (y/n)?” Sersi asks confusingly

“Yes, we knew each other as children. We were somewhat close before his family moved away, I can’t believe that's truly him.”

Before you get another word in, a loud clearing of the throat silences everyone. Mademoiselle Ayesha and her pompous son Adam, step through the crowd in their fine costumes. The madame was the current lead soprano for the opera even though you thought she couldn't sing for shit. Her voice was almost as grating as her attitude towards everyone. Sprite assumed the only reason she was given any parts was because of her stupidly wealthy family and late husband. But you choose not to comment on that. The woman stands there covered in gold and signals to the maestro to start at the top of her aria once more

Oh no she's starting again Sersi says from beside you already getting ready to cover her ears. In fact you can even see the housekeeping staff in the audience stuffing Cotton in their ears. The woman doesn’t get but a few lines in the aria her screeching tone ringing through the stage before the rolled up backdrop above her comes crashing down. The light but sturdy fabric lands on top of the soprano pinning her belly flopped to the stage floor to the shocks and screams of everyone around.

They rush to help the woman up but the damage to her pride is too great. She starts screeching about all the previous accidents directed at her, of all the misfortune and indignity that has befallen her and how she will not stand for it any longer. Mr Murdock simply stands there letting the scene unfold as Mr Nelson loses his mind along the diva as she. Stomps her heel gathering all her things, her son and their people and promptly leaving

The new owners were in a tissy (mostly foggy) wondering how they are supposed to open tomorrow with no star. How this whole adventure is now wasted. Madame Ajak promptly interrupts, saving Mr Nelson from a full melt down, handing the duo a dark black envelope with a giant red wax seal on it.

“Where did that come from?” You ask Sersi

“That confirms it then, It must was the phantom”

“The phantom?”

“Have you honestly not heard the others talk about this?

“No?”

She just shakes her head at you before filling you in on the details

“He's a mysterious person, some say he’s a ghost, others a demon but no one knows for sure. They say he's been here forever always making his presence known. In fact the previous owner used to pay him a monthly wage just to appease him, that and that box number 5 be kept empty for him whenever he wishes. Everything was going well but this past couple years he has gotten a little more devious.

“Why?”

No one really knows, and everyone’s afraid to ask or look around afraid they’ll never be seen again.

Before you can ask sersi more your name is being called.

“(Y/n)(l/n) can do it.”

What?” You had missed the conversation between the two new owners and Madame Ajak

One of your dances can replace the star diva from the past 5 years.? Your sure about that?

“Foggy why don't we give the girl a chance”

“Matt this is doing nothing for. My nerves

You stand there like a deer in headlight hoping you could somehow slip to the back and out of sight but Sersi sees you growing anxiety and gently but firmly directs you towards Ajak.

Madame gently took you from her daughter and lead you to the center of the stage

“Madame what,,,,but,, I,,,”

“It will be alright dear. I've heard you practice these last couple of years when you sneak off at night, and i know your teacher has taught ypu well”

“My teacher?”

Ajak just gives you a knowing look before she turns towards the maestro and nods at him leaving you standing there as everyone watches.

You hear quiet cheer from stage left where your little opera family all stand giving you thumbs up and right smiles, trying to ease your nerves, though it doesn’t really help, it's not till you look up towards the grand chandler that that gentle calming glow envelops your senses once more.

“From the top of the aria mademoiselle”

The band picks up and the music begins to play

To be honest you don't remember much after that. It was a whirlwind of activity. Being swept off stage and quickly fitted into costumes, stage managers telling you where you need to stand, color spotting you with lights all the fixing basically to make it seem like you were always meant to be in the role.

You didn't know that while you sang your heart out on stage a certain young count had finally taken notice of you

“(Y/n)?”

“That’s the girl that used to follow you around?” Count Arishem Ikarus’s father ask begrudgingly

“Yes father that's the daughter of that famous violinist tha lived near our old summer home.”

“Well, well we may have found ourselves a diamond in the rough after all. The elder count scrutinizes the crowd all gawking at the peasant, like she's a princess. All he sees is an opportunity to boost his family further, the gears of his plan already forming in his mind.

Phantoms pov

There she is at last! Right where she belongs, my beautiful beautiful muse.