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lizzyiii · 6 months ago

Note

Hey girl hey. Hope you are still alive and life is treating you well. Just checking in.

you're so sweet for this omg. so ive graduated from high school, have this whole summer, but I can't really enjoy it since a broke girl's got to work. got my very first job and it's sooo draining, but I've got to get that bag

Sevenmas

pairing | aemond x wife!reader

word count | 9.2k words

summary | amid the haunting ruins of harrenhal, aemond's pregnant wife senses the looming threat of alys rivers, a witch whose presence fuels her nightmares and aemond's growing distance.

determined to protect her husband and unborn child, she delves into the secrets of warding magic, reclaiming her bond with aemond as she invites him back into her bed and vows to stand against the witch’s dark influence.

tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy, magic, fluff, soft aemond, hubby aemond

a/n | it's summer, the heat is evident, yet I've only been at work or home. I needdd to leave my house!

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

My Dearest Babe,

It has been a full moon since your father and I arrived at these dreary halls of Harrenhal. It is bleak here, cold and damp, and the walls seem to hold the whispers of the dead.

I have not known a single night’s rest since we set foot in this cursed place. My sleep grew all the more restless when your father saw fit to move me into a separate chamber.

Harrenhal weighs heavily upon him. It has changed him in ways I cannot yet understand. He walks the halls as if hunted, and I see the shadows of his unrest in his eyes.

Each night, his dreams twist into dark things—visions that wrench him from sleep, leaving him gasping as though clawing his way back to wakefulness. He grows ever more volatile, as if the very stones of Harrenhal press upon his mind, threatening to drive him to madness.

One night, he woke from a nightmare so violent, I feared for him. I reached out to calm him, but he struck out, not knowing it was I. I do not hold it against him—he was deep within whatever horror plagued him.

But he looked upon the bruise on my wrist with such anguish, fearing for my health and yours. It was then he resolved to put me in another room, to shield us both from his torments.

Yet, my sleep has only worsened since he made this change. This keep holds no comfort, only shadows and sighs, and I feel that something - someone - wicked watches us, waiting.

The sixth day of Sevenmas dawned in Harrenhal, a day to honor the Crone, she who carried the lantern of wisdom and foresight. How you longed for that guidance now, caught in the maze of cold stone walls and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.

The ancient keep, with its crumbling towers and halls seeped in ghosts of past horrors, gnawed at your spirit with every passing hour.

The days bled together, each as gray and listless as the last. Time itself felt suspended, and there was little to fill it but your prayers to the Seven and the slow, meticulous pull of thread and needle.

Embroidery was meant to calm the mind, but here it became another way for your thoughts to spiral into dark corners. How could you not let them when the halls echoed with whispers not your own and the air felt thick, laden with something unseen yet suffocating?

Your husband, Aemond, the prince with a fire in his blood and the shadow of the conqueror in his step, had become a stranger cloaked in duty.

Since Rhaenyra had laid siege to King's Landing, his days were consumed with strategy, flame-bright eyes scanning maps and murmuring with commanders until dawn kissed the horizon.

You would catch glimpses of him, his presence fierce and distant, a sword poised to strike. And still, there was one tether left—he would always return to break his fast with you, no matter the hour, as if the morning meal was a sacred pact he refused to break.

This shared ritual was a brief light in the gloom, a moment where his brow would smooth, and he would offer a small nod, as if to say, I am still here.

Yet even then, the weight of Harrenhal seemed to press upon him, creasing the corner of his eye and stealing the little warmth from his voice.

You wished for the strength of the Crone’s wisdom, to find words that could soothe whatever haunted him, whatever pulled him into those long, silent stretches where he barely met your gaze.

And so, with the sun’s first pale rays stretching over the stone battlements, you whispered a prayer to the Crone. Let me see what he cannot. Let me guard us in ways unseen.

There was another shadow cast over your time at Harrenhal, one that gnawed at your peace like a hound at a bone. Within the first week of your arrival, an attempt on Aemond’s life had been made, a sloppy affair that left more questions than answers.

Yet the mere notion of betrayal and blood sharpened Aemond’s already fierce nature into something perilously close to madness.

In his rage and paranoia, he swept through Harrenhal like a storm, burning and executing every male Strong—lords and bastards alike, sparing none.

The aftermath left the keep haunted by its own silence, populated mostly by women and children who dared not cross his path. Yet among the survivors, there was one who set your skin crawling like no other: Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lionel Strong.

Her gaze, dark and knowing, seemed to pierce through you whenever it drifted your way. The keep’s old women, those who lingered in the kitchens and halls, were full of whispers, speaking in hushed tones about Alys and the tales that clung to her like a shroud.

They claimed she was a wet nurse with no babes of her own, that her cradle stayed empty because she offered her children to dark gods, drawing power from their sacrifices.

The word witch passed between toothless mouths with reverence and fear, a name that conjured images of blood and whispered spells in the dead of night.

You would catch Alys watching Aemond from the shadowed corners of the great hall, her green eyes glistening like the polished scales of a serpent.

There was something about the way she looked at him, a gaze that lingered too long, with a subtle curl to her lips that suggested she saw beyond what others did. Each time, a cold knot formed in your stomach, winding tighter with each day.

Aemond, for his part, seemed oblivious—or perhaps unwilling—to acknowledge her attention. He stalked the halls of Harrenhal like a restless dragon, his eyes always aflame with thoughts of war and vengeance.

But you, kept to the fringes and left with little to occupy your time, had learned to listen. You had overheard more than once the old wives’ tales, how the stones of Harrenhal bore witness to strange sights in the dark of night.

The morning light struggled to filter through the narrow, soot-streaked windows of Harrenhal’s great hall, casting long, somber shadows across the cold stone floor.

You sat at the grand table, an expanse of dark oak that seemed almost too vast with just the two of you seated at its head.

The hall’s emptiness swallowed the small noises of clinking silver and the rustle of fabric, leaving only the low crackle of a distant fire to break the silence.

You glanced at Aemond, his face severe and sharp as ever, eyes narrowed and distant as he picked at the bread before him. His hair, pale as moonlight, spilled over his shoulders, catching the dim glow of morning like polished silver.

You traced the line of his jaw with your gaze, noting the tautness there, the slight twitch that spoke of restless thoughts.

In truth, you did not know this man well—your husband, your prince, and yet a stranger in so many ways.

It had only been moons since you first met, and within days, the marriage vows were spoken, the ink on the alliance barely dry before you found yourself bound to him in name and in fate.

Your father’s fleet had been your dowry, a formidable power that the Greens could not afford to spurn. You understood your role, the politics and power that tethered you to Aemond, but understanding him was another matter entirely.

His silences were as deep and dark as the Blackwater, and he carried an anger that smoldered beneath his skin, an unquenchable flame that whispered of vengeance and old wounds.

But despite the cold armor of his demeanor, Aemond had never raised his voice nor his hand to you. He moved with a kind of carefulness in your presence, a restraint that bordered on gentleness.

He treated you with a respect that was rare among men of power, where wives were often little more than pawns on a board.

And though it was likely due to the child you carried beneath your heart, it kindled a small warmth within you to think that he had not left you behind when he marched to Harrenhal.

Instead, he had commanded that you come with him, a choice that puzzled you even as it comforted you.

Harrenhal was a desolate place, steeped in old, cracked stone and a history that groaned beneath every step. You despised it, with its drafty halls and the air that always seemed to taste of ashes.

Yet sitting here, across from Aemond as the thin light etched sharp lines across his face, you felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude.

The silence between you was not companionable, but it was not cruel either. It was a space where the two of you existed, tethered by duty and an unspoken understanding.

Your gaze lifted from your untouched plate to meet his. “You barely ate anything,” you ventured softly, the words almost swallowed by the great hall’s vastness.

Aemond’s eye flickered to you, just a moment of acknowledgment, before drifting back to the distant, unfocused point beyond the hall’s great hearth. “I have much on my mind,” he replied, his voice low and guarded, as always.

You lowered your gaze, the golden glint of your cup catching the flicker of the fire as you turned it in your hands. “Today is the day of the Crone,” you murmured, the soft words drifting into the vast emptiness of the hall.

Aemond’s eye settled on you again, this time with a sharper intensity, as if he were trying to read the thoughts that played behind your eyes. The violet of his gaze, stark and unyielding, seemed to see through flesh and bone.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but pushed on, lifting your head with a tentative, almost sheepish smile.

“I have been holding small celebratory suppers in my chambers for each of the Seven,” you said, the words trembling on the cusp of hope. “Perhaps you would join me tonight?”

Aemond’s expression remained inscrutable, carved from the same marble as the gods whose names you spoke. He was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he measured the request. You held your breath, bracing for the sting of rejection, but after a moment, he inclined his head with a slow, deliberate nod.

“I shall see if I am free to attend later, wife,” he replied, each syllable precise, as if spoken under a watchful eye.

A smile unfurled across your face, a small, fragile bloom that brightened the somber air. You nodded, your gratitude silent but deeply felt, and returned your attention to the meal before you.

The hall fell back into its familiar hush, but the silence seemed gentler, softened by the promise—no matter how uncertain—that he might sit with you as the evening drew near.

Throughout the day, you moved with a purpose that had been absent for some time. Excitement flickered within you, casting a rare warmth over the bleakness of Harrenhal’s cold stone walls.

You spent more time preparing yourself than you had in weeks, choosing a gown of deep violet, the color rich and regal, one you knew would match Aemond’s eye.

Your hands worked carefully as you braided your hair, fingers weaving strands with practiced precision. You wound the braids into a half-up style, securing them with thin silver pins, and threaded small pearls between the coils, their soft luster catching the waning light that seeped through the chamber’s narrow window slits.

As the sun dipped lower, you prepared the chamber for supper, eager to cast away the dreariness of Harrenhal’s stone embrace. The table, though small, was set with care.

You placed a modest arrangement of primroses at its center, their pale petals lending a touch of softness to the somber room.

Candles, thick and tapered, were placed with a meticulous eye, their wicks waiting to be lit and offer a warm glow that would banish the shadows lurking in the corners.

Tonight was meant to honor the Crone, a day of wisdom and reflection, yet you could not help but hope for something more—a chance to share a moment, however fleeting, with the man you called husband.

The hours had been long since you’d known any touch of intimacy, any whisper of companionship. The prospect of Aemond joining you, even for a brief supper, was enough to make your heart beat with anticipation.

Time stretched on, heavy and unyielding, as you sat alone at the small table in your chambers, a solitary figure in a room filled with muted light. The food before you, once steaming and fragrant, had grown cold, the sheen of oil on the meats congealing in the chill air.

The candles you had lit earlier had burned down to stubs, their light dwindling as shadows crept up the walls.

The fire in the hearth, once crackling with warmth, had reduced itself to a bed of glowing embers, the last vestiges of heat sputtering as they surrendered to the draft that snaked through the stones.

Your heart, which had quickened with hope earlier in the day, now felt leaden with disappointment. The silence pressed in around you, each passing moment a reminder that Aemond would not come. The anticipation that had kept your spirits aloft now left a hollow ache in its absence.

Pushing your untouched plate away, you rose from the table, your movements deliberate as anger stirred in your chest. It was not the hot, reckless kind, but the slow-burning indignation that came when expectation was met with silence.

You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and slipped into the dim corridor, determined to find him, to seek an answer rather than stew in this quiet, stinging rejection.

Harrenhal’s halls were a maze of stone and shadow, empty and vast, with only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cold. The castle held a thousand whispered secrets, and tonight, it seemed eager to keep its prince among them.

You turned corners and climbed staircases, the flicker of dying torches casting your shadow long against the walls, until the familiar paths grew strange and your resolve wavered.

Finally, as you entered a lesser hall that stretched toward a wing of old chambers, you spotted movement—a maidservant carrying linens, her head bent as if afraid to be seen. Relief mixed with frustration as you quickened your step.

“Excuse me,” you called out, your voice sharper than intended.

The servant started, nearly dropping her burden before bowing her head hastily, eyes fixed to the floor. It was a common sight in Harrenhal, the way they kept their gaze averted in your presence.

Word of your husband’s fierce reputation as Prince Regent and Kinslayer had traveled swiftly, and it seemed they feared that to slight you was to invite his wrath upon them.

With a lifted chin and a tone that brooked no disobedience, you asked, “Where is my husband?”

Before the maid could stammer out an answer, another voice cut through the dim hallway—a voice that chilled the blood in your veins and haunted your sleep with its whispers.

“I fear the prince is still occupied in the council chamber, my lady,” said Alys Rivers, her tone smooth and deceptively courteous, like the edge of a blade.

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she regarded you, taking in the sight of your tense shoulders, the protective way your hand drifted instinctively to your rounded stomach.

There was no warmth in her expression, only the sly amusement of a cat toying with a bird that dared to stray too far from its nest.

Your nostrils flared, and you straightened your back, eyes narrowing as you corrected her in a low, simmering murmur, “Princess.”

Alys tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her eyes betrayed nothing but a cold mirth. “Pardon me,” she said, her gaze sliding deliberately to your abdomen before flicking back up to meet yours, daring you to react.

“I am not your lady,” you hissed, “I am your princess.”

With a final, steely glare, you turned on your heel, the folds of your violet gown sweeping the floor as you made your way back through the shadowed hallways, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

The silence of Harrenhal enveloped you once more, and you did not pause until you reached the safety of your chambers, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the cool, unyielding wood.

The echo of Alys’s smirk lingered in your mind, but you would not let her see your fear. Not tonight. Not ever.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal, as the pain surged through you, tearing its way up your spine and scattering your senses. It felt as though your very body was being split apart, the agony sharper and deeper than any blade.

“Keep pushing, my princess; the babe is almost here,” urged the midwife, her voice steady but relentless.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to curse her, to scream at her to hold her tongue, but the pain stole all words from you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

It was a torment that came in relentless waves, each cresting higher than the last, only to drag you under when you thought you could surface for air. The burning, the stretching—unbearable, blinding.

“I cannot,” you sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat that drenched your brow. “Please… I can't,” you pleaded, your voice broken and desperate.

The pain surged again, stealing the air from your lungs, and then you felt it—a firm, familiar hand pressed gently to your cheek. Through the haze of pain, you turned your head, and your vision cleared just enough to see the sharp lines of Aemond’s face.

His single violet eye was intent, fierce, a rare expression of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask. Relief, so profound it was nearly painful, swelled in your chest.

“Aemond,” you gasped, his name a lifeline, an anchor in the storm.

Husbands were not meant to be present for the birth, tradition forbade it. But he was there, and you did not care for any rule or rite that would keep him away.

“Just a few more pushes, my love,” he murmured, his voice low, a thread of steel woven through the gentleness.

You nodded weakly, mustering what remained of your strength. A deep groan escaped you as you pushed once more, the room spinning around you. The midwife’s voice rose above the roaring in your ears.

“The babe is crowning, my lady.”

But the tone was wrong. Too familiar, too cold. Alarm jolted you to consciousness, and you struggled to prop yourself on trembling elbows. Your eyes darted to the space at the foot of the birthing bed, and dread coiled tight in your gut.

There, in the dim light of the chamber, knelt Alys Rivers. Her dark hair framed eyes as green and sharp as glass, eyes that glimmered with a knowing, malevolent gleam. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze.

“No, no!” you screamed, panic twisting your voice. “Get away from me!”

With a surge of fear-driven strength, you tried to kick her away, your limbs thrashing wildly, but Aemond’s hands clamped down on you, firm and unyielding. “Calm yourself,” he commanded, his voice cool, steady as stone.

Alys turned her gaze up to him, a shadow of mock sympathy curving her lips. “You must choose, my prince,” she intoned, each word dripping with false solemnity. “The babe, or your wife.”

A sob wrenched from your chest as you felt your breath come in sharp, shallow gasps. “No. No!” The pain was drowned beneath the torrent of fear that flooded you.

Desperately, you looked up at Aemond, seeking the warmth, the fierce protection that once resided in his eye. But what you found was a gaze distant and unreadable, as though he stood apart, watching from some cold, unreachable place. His jaw tightened. “Save the babe.”

Time seemed to fracture around you. His words, so final, crashed over you like a wave of ice. Your eyes widened, disbelieving, as rough handmaids or shadows, you could not tell—pressed you back, holding you firm as you struggled.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed, your voice raw with betrayal and terror, limbs straining against the iron grip that pinned you.

Pain cleaved through you, and you felt the weight of the babe shift within. But your focus broke as Alys moved, no longer at the foot of the bed but gliding closer, the flicker of torchlight catching on the edge of a cruel, glinting blade.

The chamber seemed to darken around her, the faint cries of the midwives fading into an ominous silence. And all you could see were those green eyes, bearing down on you like a curse whispered in the dark.

You jolted upright, heart pounding and breath ragged, the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your skin like a shroud. A trembling hand reached up to brush the tears from your cheeks, the dampness proof of the terror that had gripped you in sleep.

Your eyes drifted down, catching the soft curve of your swollen belly under the covers, rising and falling with your shallow breaths. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, a bitter mix of relief and unease.

The babe was still safe within you—at least for now. You pressed your palm over it, as if to reassure yourself of its presence.

Beyond the thin light filtering through the shuttered window, the sky remained cloaked in the indigo of night.

The stillness told you it was not yet dawn, that liminal time when dreams and waking often blurred. But sleep would not find you again; not after that vision, nor for many nights to come, you were sure.

The memory of Aemond's cold, detached gaze as he spoke words that sealed your fate in your dream clung to you. It pierced deeper than any blade, a wound festering with fear and doubt.

Yet you forced yourself to swallow the sharp sting of betrayal, directing your thoughts toward another source of your unease—Alys Rivers.

The whispers, the eyes that followed, the dark air that seemed to shift when she was near. Your fears, your husband’s torment, the sense of something wicked gnawing at Harrenhal’s bones—it all traced back to her.

Resolve steeled your spine. You pushed back the covers and rose, the weight of your pregnancy making the motion slower, more deliberate.

Wrapping yourself in a heavy fur cloak, you reached for the candelabra on the nightstand. Its small flame sputtered in protest before catching steady, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls.

The corridors of Harrenhal, once alive with whispered conversations and the hurried footfalls of servants, now loomed around you in cold, watchful silence. The draft that crept through the ancient stones nipped at your cheeks and sent a shiver down your spine.

Clutching the fur tighter against your body, you moved forward, the warm light in your grasp flickering as it met the draft.

The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of your cloak and the creak of old floorboards beneath your weight.

At last, you reached the great doors of the library, their dark wood carved with sigils long forgotten and gnarled from centuries of use. Setting the candelabra down, you pushed against one of the doors, muscles straining with the effort.

It groaned open, the sound reverberating through the stillness and sending a cold gust rushing past you. Picking up the candelabra, you stepped inside and let the heavy door drift shut behind you with a thud.

The scent of old parchment and dust surrounded you, familiar and oddly comforting. Shelves stretched high, towering sentinels filled with the stories of old and the wisdom of those long gone.

On other nights, you would have lost yourself in the tales that wove through these tomes—myths and sagas that spoke of courage and triumph. But tonight, solace was not what you sought.

You moved through the rows with purpose, eyes scanning the spines until they found those few volumes that hinted at the arcane.

The lore of witches, their dark arts, the means by which they could twist men’s dreams and cloud their minds—it all lay within reach, hidden among dusty pages that no one dared speak of.

You placed the candelabra down, its light casting a golden glow that flickered across the cracked leather and faded titles.

With trembling hands, you opened the first book, its binding stiff with age. The parchment crackled as you turned the pages, your eyes drinking in the inked words.

If there was any way to guard yourself, to protect Aemond from the shadows that had seeped into your lives, you would find it here. No longer would you be haunted by that witch’s knowing gaze or the dread that coiled tight in your belly.

With each turn of the page, the flickering glow of the candelabra cast dancing shapes upon the stone walls, warding off the chill that seeped through Harrenhal’s blackened stones.

The words spoke of charms and tokens, of age-old rituals whispered by the smallfolk who feared the unseen.

Marking doors with protective sigils or crosses to ward off malevolent forces. The purifying strength of salt, said to bar dark spirits and their ilk. Rowan wood, revered for its protective properties, best used when tied with crimson thread to seal its potency.

The hours crept by, measured by the slow guttering of candle wax. You read, forgetting the passage of time as the nightmare’s claws loosened their grip on your heart.

Knowledge was your weapon now, and you wielded it with the silent promise that neither you nor Aemond would fall victim to powers unknown.

The day’s first light spilled through the high, narrow windows, a pale and hesitant glow that bled into the room and painted the bookshelves in muted gold.

It was the day of the Stranger, seldom celebrated, yet you paid it no heed. Lost in the pages, you missed the bells that tolled the hour and forgot the warmth of your usual morning meal shared with Aemond.

When at last you closed the final volume, a resolve settled in your chest, resolute and unyielding. You would need these items—symbols of protection—and that meant venturing beyond the castle’s shadowed halls and out into the market.

The fur-lined cloak wrapped snug around you, guarding against the bitter drafts that swept through the corridors as you made your way back to your chambers.

As you reached the windows, a rare sight unfolded before your eyes—snow, soft and unrelenting, blanketing the bleak spires of Harrenhal.

Snow was a rarity in King’s Landing, seldom seen during your girlhood there. For a moment, untouched by fear or doubt, you felt the stir of childish wonder rise within you.

Three knights of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks pristine even in the snow, flanked you as you ventured to the market. The square bustled despite the cold, vendors calling out their wares with voices hoarse from the chill. Your list of protective items, hastily scrawled in the early hours, guided your every step.

Surprisingly, the rowan wood was easy to find, its branches bundled tightly with red thread as per custom.

Charms of polished crystal and talismans wrought from iron and bronze were procured with little effort, their sellers eager to part with them for a handful of silver stags.

The murmured blessings from the old crones at their stalls made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, but you pressed on, their eyes shadowed with both reverence and suspicion.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting a gilded glow over the snow-draped stones of Harrenhal, your arms were laden with your newfound protections. You returned to your chambers with purpose, setting to work immediately.

With meticulous care, you bound the red thread around the twigs of rowan wood and placed them above each entrance.

Salt, precious and fine, was spread across the thresholds, each grain catching the firelight like scattered stars.

With charcoal from your writing desk, you etched intricate symbols—wards against dark magics—onto the cold, unyielding stone walls.

But it was not just your own safety you sought to secure. For Aemond, you had combed the market for a piece both practical and protective. After much haggling, you procured a leather eyepatch, supple and black, unmarred by wear.

Returning to your chamber, you carefully stitched shards of black tourmaline into its edge, each piece glinting with a subtle, protective gleam. Your needlework was steady, each pull of the thread imbued with silent prayers.

Lost in your task, you barely noted the soft knock at your door or the maidservant who entered, setting a tray of supper on the table near the hearth.

The aroma of roasted fowl and warm bread wafted through the chamber, but your focus remained fixed.

As you worked by the fire's glow, the shadows that had haunted your waking hours seemed to lessen, replaced by the steady rhythm of thread and needle, and the quiet resolve that this time, you would be ready.

You were so absorbed in your needlework, fingers deftly stitching the dark crystals onto a supple leather patch, that the sudden clearing of a throat startled you. Your gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise as they met the cool, familiar face of Aemond Targaryen.

“Husband,” you said, breathless as you hastily hid the finished eye patch beneath a velvet pillow. Rising to your feet, you inclined your head, though your heart thudded with residual tension.

He stood tall and imposing in the dim glow, the silver-white of his hair catching the light like a crown. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the walls themselves pressed in with the weight of his presence.

“What brings you here?” you asked, voice touched with confusion and a hint of sharpness. Exhaustion dulled your sense of propriety, leaving the question more pointed than intended.

Aemond’s lone violet eye narrowed, an unreadable glimmer within its depths. “To have supper with you,” he replied, as if such a thing were the most natural answer in the realm.

Your eyes flickered to the table, where two silver plates now sat, the steam rising lazily from the dishes set by the silent servant moments before.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and sighed, murmuring, “I believe my invitation was for yesterday.”

A shadow of regret crossed his face, so brief that another might have missed it, but you saw. As you moved past him to take your seat, you caught the soft murmur that slipped from his lips, “I deserved that.”

Aemond followed and took his place across from you, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet chamber. For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearthfire. His gaze settled on you, sharp and searching.

“I have not seen you at all today,” he said at last, the words carrying a hint of something that might have been longing, tempered by pride.

Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers fiddling absently with the edge of your gown. Remorse pricked at your heart—you had broken your shared morning ritual, the one part of the day reserved just for the two of you.

“I was very busy,” you replied softly, the excuse feeling thin on your tongue.

Aemond’s expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “I heard. Visits to the market square,” he said.

You hesitated, holding back the details of the charms, the salt, the ancient warding sigils you had traced with trembling hands. He would only deem you foolish or worse, mad.

“I needed fresh air.”

His eye narrowed, a flicker of displeasure passing over his sharp features. “It is too dangerous for one in your condition to wander beyond these walls,” he said, the admonishment clear, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. “That is why I took three of your White Cloaks,” you retorted, the fire in your voice matching the spark in his eye.

For a heartbeat, the tension crackled between you, the weight of unsaid words pressing down like a heavy cloak. Then, Aemond’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, as if some silent battle had been waged and resolved within him.

“Good,” he said at last, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You are no fool, wife.”

The tautness in the room eased, and though unspoken, an accord was reached.

Aemond leaned forward, and placed a carved wooden box on the table between you. “I’ve brought you something,” he said, his voice a measured calm, yet there was an undercurrent of something softer. “An apology for last night.”

Your brows knit together, skepticism clear in your eyes. “My forgiveness cannot be bought with trinkets, husband,” you said, your tone edged with defiance. Yet even as you spoke, curiosity stirred within you.

One of his silver brows arched at your remark, and a small smile ghosted his lips. “Let us see if it is worthy,” you murmured, reluctant to give ground but unable to hide the intrigue that tugged at you.

With a careful hand, Aemond lifted the lid of the box, revealing a necklace of silver and sapphire. The deep blue stone glimmered like the sea under moonlight, capturing the room’s faint candle glow.

Your breath stilled for a moment, eyes tracing the intricate work of the silver links, each carved to mimic dragon scales.

Your fingertips brushed over the gem, the cool surface grounding you as warmth bloomed in your chest. Unbidden, a soft smile tugged at your lips, an expression so rare that even you felt its presence.

“Thank you, husband,” you whispered, your voice softened by genuine gratitude.

Aemond’s face shifted, pride flickering across his sharp features. There was something triumphant in his half-smirk that you could not allow him to savor unchallenged. You rose from your seat, skirts rustling as you moved.

“I, too, have a gift for you,” you said, your tone now light with a note of playfulness.

“Oh?” he replied, one silver eyebrow lifting in surprise, though the glint in his lone violet eye revealed his interest.

“Mm,” you hummed, stepping to the chaise where a small cushion lay. Your fingers slipped beneath it, retrieving the item hidden there. Turning back to him, a touch of shyness colored your expression, a rare sight that softened the lines of your face.

With both hands, you presented him with an eye patch, the black leather supple and embroidered with fine strands of broken tourmaline crystals, catching the dim light with a subtle shimmer.

Aemond took it, surprise giving way to careful scrutiny. His fingers traced the delicate work, the weight of the crystals and their arrangement thoughtful.

“Black tourmaline,” you said quietly, watching his gaze flick between you and the patch. “It is said to have powerful protective qualities.”

You hesitated, unwilling to speak of how it was also believed to ward against dark energies and unseen dangers—of how it might shield him from threats both known and hidden.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Aemond’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, rare and genuine. “Thank you, wife. 'Tis a very thoughtful gift,” he said, voice low and sincere.

A moment passed, and you froze in silent shock as Aemond reached up to remove the eye patch he wore. Of course, you had seen what lay beneath—the striking sapphire set into the hollow of his missing eye—but Aemond was never keen on showing it.

In King’s Landing, he would only take it off moments before sleep and replace it the moment he awoke.

Before he could put on the new eye patch, you placed a hand over his arm. “You know you don’t have to wear it around me, yes? I have no issue with it, and you should not either.”

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. For a heartbeat, you feared you had overstepped, but then he nodded, leaving both eye patches on the table.

A small, victorious smile touched your lips as you felt the weight of this unspoken understanding between you. “Allow me to have the maids bring us some dessert,” you said, the tension lifting.

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on you as you turned to the doors.

Stepping into the corridor, you quickly found a maid and requested something sweet to be brought to your chambers. When you returned, your heart faltered at the sight before you. Aemond stood at your desk, his tall frame hunched slightly as he leaned over an open book—your journal.

Panic surged within you, and you strode forward, slamming the book shut with a sharp motion. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than intended, eyes wide with both shock and alarm.

Aemond straightened, holding the closed journal in his hand. His expression was unreadable, though his eye bore into you with quiet intensity. “What is this?” he asked evenly, tilting the book slightly for emphasis.

“My private journal,” you answered quickly, reaching for it, but he lifted it just out of your grasp, his superior height giving him the advantage. “Give it back, husband. It is mine.”

Aemond’s voice was steady but carried an undertone of something raw, almost fragile. “Then why,” he began, his eye fixed on you, ignoring your protests, “do you write to our babe?” There was an ache in his tone, a depth of emotion he hadn’t yet voiced.

The question caught you unprepared, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your skirts, and your shoulders sagged as you avoided his penetrating gaze. “In case,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

“In case of what?” he pressed, his voice low and edged with a demand for understanding.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could uncover your secrets by sheer will. Unable to face him, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “In case I’m not there,” you admitted at last, the words barely audible, like a confession carried on the wind.

Aemond’s brows drew together, confusion shadowing his features. “What do you mean if you’re not—” He stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching as realization dawned. The tension in his posture shifted, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. “…There.”

His sharp features softened, a rare vulnerability settling over his face. “Women do survive the childbed,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter you.

“Not every time,” you countered, your tone edged with resignation. “And there’s also… that choice.” Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, Aemond reached out and cupped your cheek.

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“There can be more babes,” he said softly, his words a promise etched with fierce determination, “but there is only one you.”

His eye, a storm of violet and sapphire, held yours with such intensity that you felt as though he was laying his very soul bare. A tear escaped and traced down your cheek, but Aemond caught it with his thumb, his touch steady, grounding you in the moment.

“I would not choose otherwise,” he said firmly, the weight of his vow lingering in the air between you. “Not for all the heirs in the realm.”

Your lips trembled as you whispered, “You swear?”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice low and resolute. “I will not lose my wife.”

The ache in your chest eased slightly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a shield. You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently against your cheek.

With a soft breath, you tilted your head upward, letting your lips meet his in a gentle caress. The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exchange of affection that carried the weight of your unspoken fears and his unyielding promise.

Aemond responded eagerly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his hand slid from your cheek to cradle the nape of your neck.

His other hand found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer, as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it willingly.

As his tongue met yours, the kiss deepened, a slow, fervent dance that sent warmth coursing through your veins. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown.

Your hands moved up his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his tunic, before curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.

The world around you faded, leaving only the press of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, and the heat that built between you like the fire crackling in the hearth.

When the kiss broke, it was with a reluctance that lingered in the air between you. Your breaths came in shallow pants as you gazed up at him through hooded lashes, the corners of your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“My love,” you purred, your voice sultry and laced with affection, “you’ve left me wanting… again.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, the stormy hue of his violet eye smoldering with barely restrained desire. “Have I now?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then it seems I must remedy that, wife.”

You guided his hands lower, to the swell of your belly, then further down to the hem of your nightgown. “Will you show me how much you desire me?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper. “Make me forget everything but the feel of you inside me...”

A low growl rumbled in Aemond's throat as his hands moved beneath your gown, fingers tracing the curves of your swollen belly before dipping lower to find the damp heat of your core.

“You have no idea how often I dreamt of this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Of burying myself deep within you, feeling your walls clench around me...”

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it aside, revealing your naked form.

His gaze devoured every inch of you, from the full breasts that rose and fell with each ragged breath, to the soft, rounded hips and the glistening folds of your sex.

“Tell me what you want, my queen,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran through you at Aemond's bold appraisal, your nipples hardening into tight peaks as his hungry gaze seared your skin. You reached for the fastenings of his breeches, your fingers fumbling with urgency to free his straining erection.

“I want you,” you murmured, your voice low, thick with a desire that lingered like a soft melody in the air. Your eyes never left his, the depth of your longing laid bare in the way your breath hitched.

Aemond’s violet gaze darkened, the flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly, a predator’s grace, as though savoring your words before acting upon them.

You took a step back, your movements slow and deliberate, your footsteps light against the floor as you inched toward the bed. The flicker of the firelight cast a warm glow across the room, the shadows dancing across the carved posts of the bed.

As you reached its edge, you let yourself fall gracefully onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the luxurious furs and silks. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at him through lowered lashes, a sly smile curving your lips.

“You beckon me so boldly,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet drawl, the faintest edge of amusement laced within it. “Have a care, wife, for I am not a man to resist such temptation.”

Aemond watched, transfixed, as you sank onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart, the tip already glistening with precum.

He shed his clothes the rest of the way, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he stalked towards you, muscles rippling with each step. By the time he reached the bed, he was fully erect, his shaft jutting proudly from a nest of silver curls.

Lying beside you, he reached out to cup your breast, thumbing the sensitive peak before leaning in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss.

His free hand trailed over your round stomach, pausing to tease the edge of your slit before delving deeper, fingers probing your slick folds.

“You're so wet for me already.”

You gasped into the kiss as Aemond's fingers found your entrance, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his touch. “Please,” you whimpered, breaking away from his mouth to gaze up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you inside me. Fill me up, make me yours again.”

As if sensing your desperation, Aemond positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening. With a deep groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over you. It took a moment for your body to adjust, to relax and welcome the thick length filling you so completely.

Aemond's breath hitched as he bottomed out inside you, your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. For a moment, he simply savored the exquisite sensation, reveling in the tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock.

Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace.

The bed frame creaked ominously beneath the force of his thrusts, but Aemond paid it no mind, lost in the primal rhythm of rutting his mate.

“Yes, just like that,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. “Take my cock, my queen.”

You wrapped your legs around Aemond's waist, heels digging into his firm behind as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft.

“Aemond!” You wailed, your nails raking down his back as you met his ferocious pace.

The obscene slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by my wanton cries and Aemond's guttural grunts. You could feel the pressure building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

Suddenly, you were hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name as your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Aemond's eye rolled back in his head as your velvet sheath spasmed around him, your climax triggering his own. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone, his seed erupting in thick, pulsing jets.

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, prolonging your shared bliss until he was spent, collapsing beside you with a grunt. For a long moment, the two of you lay entwined, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

The chamber was awash with the warmth of the firelight and the quiet hum of your contentment. As you lay entwined, your bodies barely a breath apart, your gaze lingered on Aemond’s face.

His sharp features, so often hardened by duty and war, were softened now, his violet eye fixed on you with a tenderness rarely seen.

Your noses brushed lightly, a quiet intimacy, as his hand rested possessively over your waist while yours splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

Almost as if drawn by a spell, he leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, a gesture so gentle it felt like a whispered promise. When he pulled away, he settled back onto the pillow beside you, his arm still wrapped protectively around you.

You shifted, nestling closer, your head finding solace in the crook of his neck. Your hand lay over his heart, its steady rise and fall a soothing cadence that began to lull you into slumber.

His breathing slowed, each exhale a soft brush against your hair, and soon, the quiet comfort of his presence drew you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But the peace did not last.

You jolted awake, startled by the sudden thrashing of Aemond’s body beside you. His face, so serene moments ago, was now contorted in anguish, his brow slick with sweat.

His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets as if warding off some unseen terror.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He had spoken little of his nightmares, but you knew they haunted him—a torment born of battles fought, losses endured, and burdens carried.

Pushing yourself up, you moved with as much haste as your swollen belly would allow, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you only slightly.

Grabbing the robe draped over the chair, you wrapped it around yourself, its soft fabric barely warding off the chill of the room as you padded toward the small table where you had placed your new goods.

Your hands rummaged through the items with purpose, your fingers finally curling around a small vial. You held it up, peering at its contents even in the dim light. The faint, familiar scent already began to calm your racing heart.

Lavender oil.

You returned to the bed, the vial clutched firmly in your grasp. As you sat beside him, Aemond's thrashing began to subside, though his breaths were still ragged, and his jaw clenched tightly.

Carefully, you uncorked the vial, the soothing aroma of lavender wafting into the room. You poured a small amount onto your hands, warming the oil between your palms before leaning over him.

With gentle, deliberate movements, you began to anoint his temples, your touch light yet firm as you traced small, calming circles.

The oil left a faint sheen on his skin, its scent filling the space between you. "Aemond," you whispered softly, your voice low and steady, a tether pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare.

His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing under your ministrations. You moved to his wrists, massaging the oil into his pulse points, your hands steady despite the ache blooming in your lower back.

“You are safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I am here.”

You whispered a silent prayer under your breath, invoking the gods for protection and peace. Your gaze stayed fixed on him, your heart clenching as you watched his features begin to soften, the tension melting away.

You held your breath, waiting. When his form finally stilled, his breathing evening out, you let out a soft sigh of relief. The lavender and your quiet vigil had worked.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and you slid back into bed beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you. But just as you were about to lay your head against Aemond’s chest, you froze.

A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on your arms stood on end as an inexplicable sensation swept over you.

You were being watched.

Your eyes darted to the chamber doors, which you now noticed were slightly ajar. Beyond them, barely visible in the darkness, you caught the faint glimmer of glowing green eyes.

Your heart raced, a primal fear coursing through you. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with an unseen presence.

But you steadied yourself, your breathing slowing as you reminded yourself of the protections you had set in place earlier that day.

You had taken every precaution, warding the chamber with runes and incantations, ensuring that no ill intent could cross its threshold. Alys Rivers might wield her strange gifts, but she would not claim Aemond—not without a fight.

With a courage you hadn’t known you possessed, you tightened your arms around Aemond’s sleeping form, drawing strength from the warmth of his body against yours. Lifting your chin, you stared directly into the glowing eyes, refusing to show weakness.

“I won’t let you have him,” you whispered fiercely, your voice a low, steady vow. “Not without a fight, witch.”

For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. The green eyes lingered for a moment longer, unblinking and cold, before retreating into the darkness.

Only when the oppressive feeling lifted did you allow yourself to exhale. A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your head, nestling into Aemond’s chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, became a soothing rhythm, lulling you out of your fear.

As the night enveloped you once more, you clung to him, your resolve unshaken. Whatever forces sought to disturb your peace, you would face them.

For Aemond, for your babe, for the family you were building together—you would fight.

Hope You Enjoyed!

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #aemond targaryen smut

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months ago

Text

the shadow’s soul obsession

kinktober, day five

a/n: extra, extra! come get your nasty monsterfucking, hot off the press!

summary: for the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

warnings: demon!bucky barnes x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, college au, halloween party, accidentally summoning a demon at a slumber party, bucky needs to "recharge his batteries" via sex (but virgins are the most potent), bad friends, monsterfucking, somno, loss of virginity, blood (just fit this fantasy), slutty demonic magic, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, references to gaping and fisting

word count: 2602

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

“So, do you know yet what your costume’s gonna be for the omega kappa beta party?”

“Alice,” you looked to your friend leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen island, “I don’t even know if I’m going.”

“Oh, come on,” her head tilted, “you have to!”

“Yeah,” the blonde to your right then teasingly suggested, “you could go as an angel since you’re already just as sweet and pure as one.”

With each passing moment, the end of October crept ever nearer. You were at a slumber party with a few of your friends, who unlike you, didn’t still live at home with their mothers, but instead in a sorority house on campus.

The door to the kitchen then swung open and one of the other girls came waltzing in, “hey, look what I found!” she held what looked like a faded board game above her head.

“Oh my god,” Alice gasped, “is that what I think it is? Where did you even find it?”

“The attic,” she plopped the box down on the table and the lid popped off, letting everyone spot the old Ouija board inside, “so, anyone up for contacting some ghosts or what?”

When everyone around you swiftly agreed in the spirit of the season, you were the only one who didn’t, although the teasing that quickly drowned you, about you being a scaredy cat, pressured you into joining despite your initial fear.

Most of the girls leaned into your amusing anxiety and made the game more dramatic than it needed to be, taking every chance they got to make you jump in your seat. But none of their attempts rivalled the one towards the end when one of them spooked you so fiercely that your body shrivelled up and a shrill scream tore its way out your lungs. They all laughed at your reaction and abandoned the board, too entertained by the success in scaring you to continue and wrap up the pretend ritual in the proper way.

However, during every second of the eerie game and even ever past that, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, though it wasn’t just because of how scared you admittedly were, as there was someone else, something else, that caused that sensation to bubble up within you.

For the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

From the second the sliver of him slipped through, Bucky felt drawn to you and instantly became completely and utterly entranced by you. Your soul was so bright and pure it nearly blinded him as he felt himself grow stronger merely from your presence.

Who would have thought such luck would have been on his side, for with a perfect and potent little virgin like you in his gasp, an entity such as he would be able to restore his full power in no time.

And when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he greedily let his spectral touch ghost across your form, sliding off your blanket and coping a feel over your pyjamas, each caress he ravenously claimed felt to him like his lungs once again expanded and filled with oxygen, like he became a little more corporeal and regained just a little bit of his powers the longer and the fiercer he groped you.

Though what he truly needed to regain his full potential, unfortunately, had to wait, as his demonic grip caused you to stir from your slumber just enough for you to roll over into a new position and fall asleep again, never to think more of it than just a light slumber. But perhaps if he kept it up long enough, he’d soon regain enough of his prowess to make sure you wouldn’t rouse no matter what he stole from you in order to return to the grand demon he used to be.

The home you returned to the next day was just as empty as expected with only a kind note stuck to the fridge as an echo of your mother, reminding you that she wouldn’t be back from her business trip till far into the coming week.

When darkness fell upon the town and the moon rose up high in the sky, you went up to bed and swiftly drifted off into sleep.

As Bucky leaned down over your slumbering form, he smiled as he let a finger trace the edge of your face before he bent down and pressed his lips to your own.

Now, it wasn’t just a kiss he gave you, but a fiendish hex that forced your frame to keep on sleeping, no matter what, until the sun once again crested over the horizon.

“As much as I’d love for you to wake up and have you witness everything I’m about to do to you,” he brushed some of your hair out of your face, “we can’t have that,” his broad thumb briefly stroked your cheek, “at least not yet…”

Ripping the duvet off, he watched as goosebumps rose and dotted your skin from the chilly night air, how your nipples turned into pebbles beneath your thin nightgown.

While his consuming gaze raked down your form, his grasp pushed your sleepwear up and let it bunch around your hips, granting him a view of how the cotton of your underwear moulded around your soft centre.

A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips as he let himself drift back down, closer to your slumbering frame, “let’s see if we can fix this little problem…” before he pressed a hot kiss to your covered core, briefly running his split tongue over the fabric as the effects took hold.

When he tilted back, it wasn’t just his own saliva that now drenched your panties, but also your own juices as he had successfully scrounged up enough of his power to force your pussy into a state of desperation, making it extraordinarily leaky and sticky with cream and quite literally drool for him.

With a primal growl, the throbbing between his legs swayed him to dig his grip into your underwear and tear them off, tossing the shreds off to the side before he spread your legs wide.

Enclosing his fist around the base of himself, angry and flush in his grip, he offered himself an ouch of relief as he stared down at you.

“Hell… what I wouldn’t give to hear you moan and scream for me… to see fear arise in your mortal eyes at every little thing I’ll offer you… but that’ll have to be another time… can’t have you wake up and ruin the ritual…”’

As he rubbed his fat cock against the mess he’d made of you, he couldn’t help but smile at the staggering difference as his unholy length weighted down upon you, making you look so tiny in comparison, so easy for him to just break.

“Would you beg me to stop? Would you cry about how big this devil dick is? Whimper about how you couldn’t possibly take it, not even if you weren’t a pure little prude? Yeah, you probably wouldn’t even be able to take it then…” a dark chuckle then crackled within his broad chest, “good thing I don’t care,” before he ruthlessly slammed his cock inside, stretching your poor pussy out beyond belief.

He let out a deep moan at just how incredible you felt around him, how he had to strain himself to work past your strangling tightness and bury himself completely in your haven.

“Oh, well would you look at that…” a sly smile crept up on his lips as he glanced down at how you struggled to take him and spotted the tinge of crimson that stained his fat girth as he momentarily retracted, pulling out just till your cunt only clung around the bulbous head of him. His digits floated down to swipe some of your virginal blood up onto the pads of his fingertips before he brought them up to his lips and groaned as he let himself taste your ruined purity, letting himself regain even more of his vigour, “you are just fucking perfect…”

As he let his frame drift down closer to you, he draped himself over your slumbering form as he thrust mercilessly into you, watching you closely at the way his efforts caused you to writhe and tremble in your sleep.

Nibbling at your neck, his lips wandered further down as he ruthlessly rutted into you, splitting you open like the savage monster that he was, and eventually sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder.

With a low growl, he pushed himself back up, though even as the movement threatened to let his colossal cock leave the warm embrace of your tiny hole, his hands roughly found your hips and brought you back down onto him.

“Fuck…” he lifted your hips off the mattress and made your back arch obscenely as he used you like a toy, “you’re such a little whore and you don’t even know it yet…” his possessive grip dug into your hips so fiercely that his nails drew blood and left angry scratches in their wake.

His black eyes then found the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower belly at each and every one of his thrusts, “can’t wait to see how you react when you wake up tomorrow morning, all sore and swollen, wondering why you’re so sensitive. If only you knew that some big bad demon followed you home and tortured your pussy all night long…”

Perhaps his brutal fucking had forced your slumbering form to orgasm more than once, though it was hard for Bucky to ignore it when you came this last time as you squirted all over his fat girth.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he chuckled and kept up his ruthless rhythm, never pausing once as he made your gushing pussy give him each and every drop, “I knew it was true that virgins pack the most powerful punch for us unholy folk, but damn…” he slammed you down against him hard enough for his bullying tip to bruise your cervix, “you’re even better… I might just have to keep you after this…”

And when he soon tumbled over the edge and pumped your little pussy full of his demonic seed, his ethereal form flickered till it wasn’t at all ghostly any longer, till his full power regenerated and he now sat on your bed clear as day with his spent cock limp against his thick thigh and horns protruding from his temples.

Briefly, he swept his broad hand up your stomach before it scooped down to where you leaked with his essence.

“Look at you,” he pushed two fingers into your mess and pumped his hot cum that much deeper inside of you, “you’re still so fucking tight…” he struggled to force another thick digit in beside the others. As his cock began to twitch and swell once more, he quietly groaned, “guess that just means we aren’t done yet… you might have helped me with my little problem, but this ain’t over,” he tried and failed to slip his picky finger in beside the rest, “I haven’t finished breaking you in yet, little human,” his free hand found himself in silky strokes, “I won’t stop till you’re fucking gaping for me, till I fit my whole fist up in here,” his thumb quit its attempts at sneaking inside and instead extended up to crudely strum your puffy pearl, “till you’re utterly ruined and completely perfect for me…”

The bassy music rumbled the entire frat house like an earthquake as you leaned over to whisper to Alice that you’d be right back from your libation location mission.

Though when you stumbled into the kitchen, the crooked feathery wings on your back brushing against the doorframe as you passed, a loud sigh escaped you as your eyes scanned the various bottles lined up on the messy counter and discovered them all to be empty, “argh, seriously?”

That was exactly what you needed.

To be at a wild Halloween party without any alcohol in your system to make the obnoxious people more bearable and make you forget how you’d rather just go home and try to sleep as none of your efforts all weekend had granted you any ounce of rest, only left you more exhausted than the day before and bizarrely enough also making you sore in the oddest of ways.

But then as all hope seemed lost, a voice echoed from the corner of the kitchen, “hey, you like tequila?” and you glanced up to see a man in an elaborate demonic costume holding up a full bottle for you to spot.

“Thank you,” your tense shoulders dropped slightly as you offered him a smile and stepped closer, “though I don’t know if an angel like me should accept a drink from a devil like you,” the joke slipped out of you as you neared him.

As a bright grin crept up on the man’s lips, he light-heartedly squinted down at you and played along, “hm, yeah, you’re probably right. We demons are an untrustworthy lot. But, I am your only chance at getting drunk and numbing these dumbasses out,” he seized a plastic cup and began to twist the cap off, “so, what do you say?”

“What’ll it cost me? To make a deal like that with a devil?” you kept up the gag, “just my soul or do you want my firstborn or something?”

Naturally assuming that the handsome stranger was still just joking around, you saw him smile as he poured you a drink and uttered, “oh, your soul will do just fine, sweetheart.”

As he handed you the cup, he joined you as you raised the hard liquor up to your lips, taking a sip of his own straight from the bottle, though he somehow didn’t make a face like you did when the harsh booze poured down your throat, in fact he didn’t even blink as he tipped the bottle back and kept his intense stare glued to you.

“Your costume is really amazing,” you complimented as you let your gaze wander over his burly frame, “your coloured contacts? And those horns? I’ve never seen prosthetics as good as those before.”

You thought the flattery would have pushed him to elaborate, but instead, the mysterious man just murmured, “thank you,” and didn’t entertain the subject any further.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” you uttered and noticed the few grey hairs that faintly speckled his scruff, “are you a professor?”

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head.

A shiver ran down your spine as his stare continued to stay glued upon you, “then what are you doing at a frat party? No offence, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you just look a bit too old to be a student. Not that you couldn’t be, maybe you are–”

“I’m not a student,” he cut you off, “I just haven’t been feeling that well lately and the person who helped me get better is here, so that’s why I went out tonight, to this college party of all places, to thank her properly and hopefully make her all mine…”

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theskywithin · 2 months ago

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Birth Chart Breakdown: Planets in The Fifth House

☉ Sun in the Fifth House There is a fire in you that refuses to dim, no matter how many times life tries to smother it. You burn with the ache to be seen, not for what you do, but for who you are when no one is watching. Yet with every step into the light, your heart races because you know the price of exposure. Still, you rise. You step forward, trembling but determined, carrying the wild hope that someone, somewhere, will see your flame and whisper: you were born to burn this way.

☽ Moon in the Fifth House You want to be felt, not just seen, felt in the way only hearts can feel hearts. There is a quiet ache beneath your boldness, a longing to have your soul recognized in its raw softness. You dream of someone reaching past the surface and holding your fragile hopes with care. You open yourself, even when it terrifies you, because deep down you know: it is better to risk the bruise than to carry the weight of feeling invisible.

☿ Mercury in the Fifth House Your voice trembles with unspoken hopes. Every word you release is stitched with the longing to be understood, not just heard. You speak like you're reaching across a canyon, hoping someone will answer back in a way that feels like home. Beneath your quick wit and bright thoughts, there is a quiet cry: see me in the spaces between my sentences. Feel me in the words I cannot say out loud.

♀ Venus in the Fifth House You carry your beauty like a secret prayer, hoping it will be answered without having to be spoken. You long to be chosen without pleading, to be desired for your essence, not for the mask you wear, but for the soul beneath. There’s a quiet yearning in you to feel someone's gaze settle on you softly, like a hand placed over your heart. And even when the ache feels endless, you still offer your light, hoping it draws the right soul near.

♂ Mars in the Fifth House Desire courses through you like blood through your veins, fierce and undeniable. You crave to live fully, to burn so brightly that the sky itself feels too small. But this fire comes with fear, the fear of falling, of burning out, of wanting too much. Still, you would rather set yourself alight than live dimmed. You run toward life with open arms, even knowing it might hurt, because for you, to feel alive is worth every scar.

♃ Jupiter in the Fifth House You want life to feel like a celebration, loud, free, wild with color. You open your heart wide, hoping that if you give enough light, the world will reflect it back. Beneath your laughter, there is hope: that your joy will be met with open hands, not empty echoes. You keep dancing even when the music falters, because you believe in the magic of your own rhythm, and in the wild possibility that someone will dance with you, without hesitation.

♄ Saturn in the Fifth House You fear what it means to be seen. You’ve built walls around your fire, afraid it might flicker too small to be worthy, or too bright to be safe. But deep inside, the longing remains, the desperate wish to be recognized beneath your careful armor. Slowly, painfully, you peel back the layers, letting the light escape in cautious beams. And with every brave step, you learn: it is not weakness to want to be seen. It is human. It is hope.

♅ Uranus in the Fifth House You were never meant to shrink for anyone. There is rebellion in your fire, a refusal to be contained. You show yourself boldly, unapologetically, not because you seek approval, but because hiding feels like suffocation. You know your spark might startle, might disrupt, but you burn anyway. And in doing so, you give others permission to rise in their own unruly light, free and fierce.

♆ Neptune in the Fifth House You dream of being seen in your softness, in the way sunlight touches water and turns it to gold. You long for someone to look at you and see past the surface, to see the dreamer, the believer, the soul behind the shimmer. But sometimes you fear that your light is too hazy, too faraway to be touched. Still, you let it glow, because you know: even in mist, your light reaches hearts that feel like home.

♇ Pluto in the Fifth House You carry a fire so deep it scares even you. To let it out feels like surrendering your power and yet, you feel powerless to hold it in. Beneath your intensity lies the fear of annihilation: that if you show yourself fully, there will be nothing left to hide behind. But when you dare, when you finally let your true fire rise, you don’t lose yourself, you become yourself. Fierce, unbreakable, unforgettable.

🌙 Everything’s in your birth chart and in my book - The Sky Within

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #natal chart #birth chart #natal astrology #natal aspects #fifth house #astrology tumblr #astrology blog #astro placements #planets

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starmaidengarden · 2 months ago

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kalim : vil : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. soft relationship headcanons. pt2!

kalim al-asim ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Kalim Al-Asim is like basking in sunshine, spontaneous adventures, and pure-hearted affection. He’s the kind of boyfriend who loves hard and loudly—he’s affectionate, generous, and genuinely wants to make you happy every single day. Loving Kalim is easy, because he makes it so easy to love him back.

Getting Together

• Kalim is super obvious when he likes you. He gets so excited whenever he sees you—waves like crazy, calls your name, drags you into conversations, and literally glows with happiness.

• He probably confesses in the most spontaneous and chaotic way. You’re walking with him one day, and he just stops and blurts out: “you truly amaze me! lets go out, just you and I. What do you say?!” he’s jumping up and down with joy

In a Relationship

• Affection overload. Hugs, hand-holding, cuddles—he does it all, anytime, anywhere. He loves being close to you and will grab your hand mid-conversation just because he wants to. he Always wants makes you feel special. If you enter a room, he lights up. “There you are! I was waiting for you!”

• Spontaneous date ideas. magic carpet, a party, going swimming. You never know what’s coming next, but it’s always fun.

• Buys you gifts all the time. He sees something pretty? He buys it, always saying it “reminds me of you.”. If you say you like something, he’ll get you ten of it the next day. If you tell him he doesn’t have to spoil you, he’ll just pout and say, “But I want to!”

• He’s not subtle at all—expect bright smiles, constant compliments, and sudden gifts. hes loud about his love. Will 100% introduce you as “My amazing, incredible, most wonderful partner ever!” to anyone who will listen.

vil schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Vil Schoenheit is like being in a relationship with a gilded blade—sharp, elegant, and breathtakingly intense. He holds himself (and you) to high standards, but behind the polished exterior is someone who will cherish you with quiet loyalty and fierce pride. He doesn’t fall easily… but when he does? You become his entire world.

Getting Together

Vil doesn’t fall easily. He is always surrounded by admirers, so when he starts to pay extra attention to you, he will first observe you from a distance. He needs to be certain that you are worthy of his heart.

He definitely teases you before confessing—subtle compliments, pointed glances, lingering touches. He’s testing the waters.

When he decides to confess, it’s beautiful and deliberate. Candlelight, a private setting, and a direct look into your eyes as he says, “I do not give my time or heart lightly. But I’d offer both to you, if you’ll have them.”

In a Relationship

High expectations, but for your benefit. Vil pushes you to be the best version of yourself—not to change you, but because he genuinely believes in your potential.

Loves showing you off. Whether it’s through stylish couple photos, exclusive events, or simply walking together, he wants the world to know you’re his.

Morning routines together are sacred. He will absolutely do your skincare with you and insists on matching eye masks. (“You’re glowing, darling. That’s my influence.”)

Affection is subtle but meaningful. He’s not one for over-the-top PDA, but he’ll fix your collar, adjust your posture, and softly brushing hair from your face—any excuse to touch you subtly.

#twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader

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floatyflowers · 6 months ago

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Dark Platonic Ancient Egyptian Deities X Reincarnated! Reader

Ra (god of the Sun and King of the Gods)

As the father figure of the pantheon, Ra takes a patriarchal protector role. He insists you stay close to him in his solar barque, safe from the dangers of the mortal and divine realms.

He grows obsessive about shielding you from chaos especially Apophis, even refusing to let you leave his sight during the night.

Ra often calls you his 'ray of light,' claiming that your presence eases his eternal burden of maintaining Ma’at (cosmic order).

Isis (goddess of Magic and Motherhood)

Isis becomes a motherly figure, fiercely nurturing and protective.

She insists on teaching you spells and protective charms, even if they’re far too hard for you.

She forbids you from interacting with anyone she deems 'unworthy,' claiming she’s the only one who understands how to keep you safe.

Her possessiveness is crude and unyielding; she uses her magic to track you and ensure no harm comes to you, even if it means manipulating others around you.

Osiris (god of the Underworld and Rebirth)

Osiris is calm but quietly obsessive.

He views you as a symbol of renewal and life, a bright presence that balances his somber existence.

Maybe that's because he knows that you are a reincarnation?

Oh wait, he is the one who had you reincarnated in the first place.

He tries to keep you within his underworld domain, rationalizing that it’s the safest place for you, free from earthly or divine dangers.

Osiris has a slightly eerie way of expressing his affection, saying things like,

“You belong to eternity, just like I do.”

Anubis (god of Mummification and Protector of the Dead)

Anubis is like an older sibling who takes his role as your guardian far too seriously.

He constantly watches over you, often from the shadows.

His possessiveness appears as distrust of anyone else, mortal or divine, who tries to approach you.

He justifies this by claiming his duty as a protector.

If you ever get hurt, even slightly, he blames himself and becomes even more overbearing, ensuring no one gets close enough to harm you again.

As for the person who harms you, they will get mummified alive.

Horus (god of Kingship and Sky)

Horus is fiercely territorial, viewing you as his personal charge.

He sees himself as your rightful protector, fighting off any perceived threats to your safety or happiness.

And it doesn't help that his mother, Isis, encouraged him to be like that.

He’s competitive, constantly trying to prove that he’s the only one who can protect you.

He often gets into arguments with other gods over who should have custody of you.

His eagle-eyed vigilance means you’re rarely alone, as he swoops in at the slightest hint of trouble or perceived disobedience.

Set (god of Chaos and Storms)

Surprisingly, Set sees you as a calming impact in his chaotic life.

Your innocent, pure nature makes him protective, almost soft-hearted in your presence.

He grows extremely possessive, believing that only he understands what it means to protect you in a world full of danger and betrayal.

Set doesn’t shy away from using intimidation or brute force to keep others away from you, including the other gods.

He is the first one who suggests that the deities should turn you into immortal or even a goddess.

Thoth (god of Wisdom and Knowledge)

Thoth is fascinated by your knowledge of the modern world and becomes obsessed with learning everything he can from you.

He is the only one after Osiris that knows that you are reincarnated.

He justifies keeping you close, by saying it’s for 'scholarly purposes' yet we all know that he enjoys your childlike curiosity.

He tries to isolate you, offering endless books and scrolls while discouraging interactions with others, fearing they might distract or corrupt you.

"I have found a new rare scroll, who about we read it both together instead of going out for a walk?"

Bastet (goddess of Cats, Home, and Protection)

Bastet is smothering affectionate, treating you like a fragile kitten.

She insists on keeping you within her temples, surrounded by her sacred cats.

She’s fiercely territorial and sees anyone approaching you as a threat.

Her claws come out literally if anyone tries to take you away from her.

Bastet’s love is suffocatingly warm, she showers you with gifts, affection, and constant attention, leaving little room for independence.

Sekhmet (goddess of War and Healing)

Sekhmet is a ferocious guardian, seeing herself as your warrior and protector.

She’s quick to destroy anything or anyone by draining their blood, but only those who she perceives as a danger to you.

And she perceives every human as a danger.

Despite her fearsome nature, she’s surprisingly tender with you, often calling you “little one” and insisting on tending to your needs personally.

She becomes enraged at the idea of you being harmed or taken from her, leading to bursts of divine wrath that shake the mortal and divine realms.

Sobek (god of the Nile and Crocodiles)

Sobek views you as a fragile, precious being who needs constant protection.

He assigns himself as your personal guard, often scaring off others with his intimidating presence.

His possessive attitude appears in his insistence that you remain near water, claiming it’s the safest place for you.

He has a soft spot for you, often bringing you gifts like shiny trinkets or freshly caught fish.

"Why would you need to cook the fish, my dear? it's better if it is eaten raw."

#ancient egypt #egyptology #egypt mythology #horus x reader #set x reader #platonic #platonic yandere #reader insert

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a-d-nox · 5 months ago

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how can you glow up: your 1h - your look

to work off my recent post about glow ups. today i will be taking a closer look at 1h themes regarding glowing up.

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

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1h aries (1°, 13°, 25°), 1h mars, and/or mars aspecting asc

style

embrace boldness: strong, eye-catching styles. opt for tailored cuts, statement pieces, and/or vibrant colors like red, black, and/or deep maroon.

minimalist edge: minimalist outfits with sharp, clean lines work well. think structured blazers, fitted jeans, and sleek dresses.

athletic influences: bomber jackets, chunky sneakers, or athleisure pieces that combine comfort and power/strength.

statement accessories: leather belts, combat boots, and/or metallic jewelry.

beauty

defined features: use makeup to emphasize strong features, like sculpted cheekbones (contouring), bold brows, and/or a fierce cat-eye.

bold lip colors: reds and deep tones are perfect for making a statement.

effortless hair: low-maintenance but striking styles suit these people. try tousled waves, a slicked-back ponytail, and/or a pixie cut.

skincare for vibrancy: redness or sensitivity are common for this placement. incorporate calming, anti-inflammatory products (aloe vera, green tea, etc) while also enhancing your natural glow with gentle exfoliation.

body language & presence

command attention: walk with purpose and exude confidence in every movement.

strong posture: your body should radiates strength, so maintain good posture and carry yourself with self-assuredness.

active energy: use expressive gestures and/or physical activity to channel your energy into dynamic actions that captivate others.

mindset mantras

“my energy is magnetic."

"i am unstoppable.”

“i glow when i embrace my strength.”

1h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°), 1h mercury, and/or mercury aspecting asc

style

play with versatility: you are adaptable, so lean into styles that allow you to switch things up easily. opt for pieces that can be layered, mixed and matched, or dressed up or down. modular wardrobes and quirky accessories can also keep things fresh.

focus on youthful, playful vibes: embrace fun patterns, bright colors, or playful silhouettes. think cropped tops (careful if you in corporate - office sirens are a tiktok thing they not real lol), sneakers, and relaxed tailoring.

highlight the hands and arms: gemini rules the hands and arms, so accessories like rings, bracelets, and polished manicures draw attention to you. potentially experiment with finger tattoos (i would say only if mercury beneficially aspecting mars and pluto), colorful nail art, or layered bangles.

embrace intellectual elegance: incorporate "smart", polished touches, like well-fitted blazers, statement glasses, or minimalist yet clever jewelry.

beauty

fresh-faced makeup: aim for light, natural-looking makeup that emphasizes radiance. think glossy lips, dewy skin, and fluttery lashes. experiment with subtle eyeliner or shadow to create a playful but polished eye look.

experiment with hairstyles: don’t be afraid to try new cuts or colors. bangs, layers, or multidimensional highlights could add to your playful energy. accessories like barrettes, headbands, and/or clips can reflect your quick-changing vibe.

skin-care for a luminous look: focus on lightweight, hydrating products that enhance your natural glow without feeling heavy.

body language & presence

curiosity: you should aim for being naturally inquisitive and engaging. a warm smile (ugh hate telling people to smile more) and attentive posture amplify your charm.

express with your hands: use gestures when speaking to showcase your animated and captivating energy.

keep your energy light and flexible: you come alive in conversations and movement, so let your personality shine in how you interact with others.

mindset mantras

“i am curious and adaptable.”

“my versatility is my superpower.”

“my playfulness enhances my every look.”

1h libra (7°, 19°), 1h venus, and/or venus aspecting asc

style

classic elegance: timeless, sophisticated looks. aim for chic silhouettes, neutral tones, and soft fabrics like silk or cashmere. tailored blazers, flowy dresses, or polished trousers.

balance in outfits: libra thrives on symmetry and balance. counter balance proportions (i typically do fitted top with wide-leg pants as someone with this placement) and pair bold elements with subtle ones.

romantic details: incorporate feminine, romantic touches like lace, ruffles, and/or floral patterns. accessories like pearl earrings (my fav).

matching color theory / finding flattering colors: usually these people are in a soft palette. so pastels and harmonious shades like blush pink, light blue, or cream highlight your natural beauty.

stylish accessories: beauty is in the details. think statement jewelry, a chic handbag, or elegant shoes can complete your look.

beauty

glowing skin: prioritize your complexion via hydrating skincare. face mists, illuminating primers, and natural highlighters can give you that venusian glow.

perfecting your brow shape: symmetrical beauty is a libra venus and rising thing, so well-groomed, balanced brows enhance your natural beauty.

soft makeup: opt for soft, romantic looks: rosy blush, nude or pink lips, and neutral eyeshadow. slight winged eyeliner adds a touch of drama without being overpowering.

the art of hair: best suited in polished hairstyles. consider sleek ponytails, loose waves, or elegant buns. highlights or balayage in warm, subtle tones can add to your perceived sophistication.

body language & presence

charm: smile often (i hate when people tell me that) and project warmth. libra risings have a natural charisma that attracts others.

posture: a graceful, upright posture enhances your air of elegance. yoga or pilates can help develop this poise.

be approachable: your energy is diplomatic and magnetic, so lean into your ability to create harmony in social interactions.

mindset mantras

“i am the embodiment of beauty and grace."

“my elegance is effortless.”

“harmony begins within, and it radiates out.”

1h sagittarius (9°, 21°), 1h jupiter, and/or jupiter aspecting asc

style

go bold: embrace bold colors and lively patterns that reflect an adventurous spirit. flowing, luxurious fabrics like satin or silk mirror the abundance you bring.

elevate with elegance: invest in quality over quantity. timeless pieces, like tailored blazers or elegant dresses, will amplify your glow.

cultural inspiration: styles inspired by travel or cultural motifs (like patterns, jewelry, or textiles) resonate beautifully with this aspect. of course in a non-appropriative manner .

comfort is key: ensure your wardrobe blends style with comfort. think soft, flowing cuts or boho-chic aesthetics.

beauty

radiant skin: focus on achieving a healthy, radiant glow through skincare. hydration and nourishing products are essential.

bright and open makeup looks: go for makeup that enhances your natural warmth. think luminous foundation, bronzer for a sun-kissed look, and golden highlighter work well.

hair with movement: jupiter’s energy loves freedom, so hairstyles that are loose, flowing, or natural-looking (like waves or curls) suit you best.

body language & presence

confident posture: you have a natural charisma. stand tall and own your space to project confidence effortlessly.

engaging smile: let your smile be your signature. a genuine smile enhances your approachable energy.

generous energy: exude warmth by being present and enthusiastic when engaging with others.

mindset mantras

“my positivity is my greatest glow.”

“i radiate abundance and confidence.”

“growth and self-love are the foundations of my beauty.”

1h pisces (12°, 24°), 1h neptune, and/or neptune aspecting asc

style

dreamy, flowing silhouettes: soft, fluid clothing. opt for dresses, skirts, or tops with flowing, romantic designs. sheer or satin fabrics amplify this vibe.

whimsical details: lace, embroidery, or shimmery accents add a touch of magic to your look. layering pieces like shawls or cardigans can evoke a dreamy, layered aesthetic.

soft colors: pastel shades, muted tones, or oceanic hues like lavender, pale blue, seafoam green, and silver.

beauty

luminous skin: enhance a natural glow. use hydrating skincare and dewy makeup products, like liquid highlighters or illuminating primers.

soft, diffused makeup: focus on dreamy, blended looks. think soft, smoky eyes, blush with a watercolor effect, and sheer lip glosses.

hair with flow: loose waves, soft curls, or tousled styles. hair accessories, like pearl clips or headbands, add a whimsical touch.

body language & presence

graceful movements: move with calmness and fluidity. practices like yoga or dance can enhance your poise.

mystical energy: lean into your mysterious vibe by being introspective and allowing your presence to speak louder than words.

soft gaze: your eyes are likely a standout feature. enhance your connection with others through warm, soulful eye contact.

mindset mantra

"i radiate beauty and grace effortlessly.”

"my creativity is my greatest assets.”

“i glow when i align with my inner magic."

1h ruler in the 4h

style

comfort meets elegance: blend cozy and chic. think knitwear, flowy fabrics, and soft layers that make you feel at ease yet polished. fabrics like cotton, linen, and cashmere resonate with the homey yet refined vibe they should aim for.

heritage-inspired looks: incorporate cultural or familial influences into your style, like heirloom jewelry, vintage pieces, and/or traditional patterns.

neutral/earthy tones: soft, calming colors like beige, cream, sage green, or light blues create a harmonious, approachable aesthetic.

classic, timeless staples: opt for timeless pieces that feel like a second skin, like well-fitted jeans, crisp shirts, and/or a versatile trench coat.

beauty

natural glow: emphasize a fresh, radiant complexion. focus on nourishing skincare and light, dewy makeup that enhances your natural features.

relaxed hair styles: loose waves, soft braids, and/or simple updos work well; they reflect their easygoing, comforting energy.

soothing beauty rituals: prioritize self-care routines at home, like face masks, at home manicures, or aromatherapy.

body language & presence

grounded confidence: project a calm, steady presence that reflects your inner security.

emotional connection: share your personal story or background when appropriate - it can make your presence more relatable and magnetic.

warm, inviting energy: your glow-up is amplified when you make others feel at home around you.

mindset mantras

“my glow begins from within.”

“i balance comfort and beauty effortlessly.”

“when i feel at home in myself, my light shines everywhere.”

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#astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro chart #natal chart #astrology tumblr #persona chart #astro notes #astrology chart #astrology readings #astrology signs #astro #astro observations #astroblr #venus persona #venus persona chart

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solxamber · 2 months ago

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Lilia, Romantic, Bird of a feather by Billie eilish

I know you said no angst no comfort for this event, but as bittersweet as you could?

It's fine of not, ignore this if it's against the rules

"I'll love you 'til the day that I die" || Lilia Vanrouge

lowkey hurt my own feelings with this, i'm so sorry lilia lovers. (also set pre book 7)

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 720

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Bittersweet :(

Lilia had always loved like a wildfire—bright, uncontainable, burning through everything in his path. It had always been in his nature to live fully, to laugh like each breath was his last, to tease and provoke and hold the world in the palm of his hand with the confidence of someone who thought he had forever.

But time, cruel and indifferent, had caught up with him. And it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

He had known it from the first moment he had felt his magic begin to wane. A subtle thing, at first—a momentary exhaustion after casting a spell, a hesitation in his once-effortless teleportation. He had ignored it, brushed it off with a smirk and a joke, unwilling to acknowledge the weight settling in his bones. But deep down, he had known.

For a fae, magic was life itself. And once it faded… so did they.

Lilia never told you. How could he? You, with your wide-eyed wonder and your stubborn insistence on clinging to hope. You, who looked at him like he was something eternal, untouchable by the hands of fate. He couldn’t bear to see that light dim, not because of him.

So he did what he always did—he loved you harder.

He laughed louder, even when his throat ached. He held you tighter, savoring the warmth of your touch, memorizing the feel of your fingers threading through his hair. He kissed you deeper, as if trying to imprint himself into your very soul, leaving something behind even when he was gone.

Every smile, every lingering glance, every whispered word of affection was another way of saying, I love you. I love you. I love you.

And you, unsuspecting, simply basked in it. You met his intensity with your own, thrilled by his endless devotion, never once suspecting the desperation laced within it. You thought he was just being himself—bold, dramatic, insatiable in his affections.

You didn’t notice the way his hands trembled when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his eyes lingered on you just a second longer, as if trying to commit you to memory. The way he sometimes faltered, his strength betraying him, before he covered it up with a sharp grin and a teasing remark.

It wasn’t until one evening, when he nearly collapsed after the simplest of spells, that the truth shattered your world.

“Lilia?” Your voice wavered, alarmed, as you reached for him. He caught himself before falling, but it was too late—he had seen the realization dawn in your eyes, the horror, the heartbreak.

“No, no,” he said quickly, grasping your hands, forcing another one of his dazzling smiles. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“But for how long?” Your voice cracked, and Lilia swore he felt his already fading heart crumble at the sound. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, a sorrowful smile ghosting over his lips. “Because you would have tried to stop it. And, my darling, not even you can fight time.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you shook your head fiercely. “That’s not fair. That’s not—”

“I know.” He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it was as if he was trying to fuse your souls together. “I know. But if I had to choose between telling you and watching you break, or keeping this secret and having just a little more time like this… I would choose you. Every time.”

You sobbed into his shoulder, and he simply held you, whispering soothing nonsense against your hair, as if that could keep the inevitable at bay.

And yet, despite the pain, despite the cruel weight of reality, you refused to let go. If Lilia wanted to love as fiercely as he could until the very end, then so would you.

For as long as you had him, you would love him just as wildly.

That night, as the stars blinked in the vast sky above, you cupped his face in your hands, searching his eyes for any lingering fear. He only smiled at you, soft and full of something deep, something eternal.

“I love you,” you whispered.

His fingers laced through yours, his grip steady despite the weight of everything left unspoken. “Till the day I die.”

And he meant it.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia x reader #lilia twst #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia

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ellievickstar · 1 year ago

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Bloodied Bonds

A/N: This was...fun. I wanted to fit it all into one part but it was getting too long sooooo yeah.....have fun :)

Summary: When hanahaki disease festers in your lungs, how will your family help you while you hide it from your mate?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

There they were again.

Azriel smiled at Elain with those eyes…those eyes. And in your soul you felt the bond writhe with pain and clench in your chest. You remained still as you immediately brought your eyes to look at the ground beneath you. This hurt. This really hurt. A part of you wanted to deny it, wanted to believe that Azriel would remain faithful to you always, that he would stay true to the mating bond, something he desperately used to want before we got together.

Now, you were not so sure.

“Sweetheart…,” Cassian said from behind me, startling. He knew what you was seeing, saw it in his own brother’s eyes. Azriel may have always been a mystery to everyone else outside the inner circle, but his eyes — his beautiful hazel eyes — showed you everything you needed to know.

“I’m fine,” You waved Cassian off, bringing down shields on the bond, shutting out his emotions, the pain from it, and shutting yourself in as a stray tear slipped down your face, “I’m really fine,” You repeated.

Truth to be told, Cassian did not know what to say to you. After you had defended Azriel since you were kids, brought him to you and Rhysand’s mother, convinced her to take him in. Cassian did not know what could come over Azriel to internally betray you in this way. However as you began coughing Cassian was alarmed when you raced towards the kitchen sink and coughed out flower petals, one after another.

“What the hell-” He started, moving to pull back your hair as he observed what you had coughed out. Blood and petals coated the sink and as you choked them out one by one, slowly calming down, you waved your hand magicking it away. And it was then it hit him.

You were dying.

“Explain. Now.” He demanded. Looking away you mumbled.

“A few weeks ago after I first realised he loved her, I started coughing up flowers and my tears, my tears turned a gold colour. I asked Madja what was wrong. It’s a soul disease called hanahaki, caused by the betrayal of the heart and unrequited love. The tears were caused by the same thing, a unique symptom that is because of my magic due to being the High Lord’s sister. She said the flowers in my lungs will continue to grow until it suffocates me and I die. The star tears are just a symptom that causes physical pain, she doesn’t know if there will be any repercussions from it,” That’s all you managed to ramble out before you doubled over and heaved again, blood dripping out of your gaping mouth as you choked and coughed on the flower petals making their way up your throat.

Cassian was at a loss of words, on one hand he wanted to be angry, angry at you for keeping this from him, for not telling him sooner so he could beat the crap out of Azriel. On the other hand he was…devastated. You had always been like a sister to him, since he first met you as a kindred and fierce spirit when you were seven years old. The three of them had been twenty and Cassian had fell to his knees before the little girl with such a bright spirit, who dared to scream in Devlon’s face when he said females belonged in the kitchen.

Cassian had sworn to protect you.

And now, against a disease he felt helpless.

“Is there a cure?” He asked.

“Madja said there were two ways, either Azriel proves that he still loves me, which we both know won’t happen when he won’t stay away from Elain for more than a few hours, or I could have the flowers cut from their roots and removed, it’s a risky procedure and even successful all my feelings towards Azriel will be removed entirely, given the mating bond, she thinks it will be stripped from my soul. I….I wanted to wait.”

“So you either have your emotions robbed from you, make Azriel realise he’s an idiot, or die?”

You nod.

“Tell Azriel,” “I can’t!” You hissed, “We both know I can’t. He loves her, Cassian, I can feel it, I can see it, everytime he looks at her it’s like she’s the one who hung the stars and moon while when he looks at me that light dies!” You bang your fist on the table.

You point to where Azriel and Elain was far out in the gardens. His shadows no where to be seen, both blissfully unaware of what was going on inside with you and Cassian.

“He acts like she’s the one who went through countless of interrogation, of torture, when she got captured by enemies. He acts like she was the one who protected Velaris with Rhysand when she went under the mountain to be taken advantage of, when Amarantha held me down and tried to force answers out of me,” You let out another pained cry as you slid to the ground, “I have done everything for him, been through hell and back with him. And even after everything he still wants her, still wants to be with her, still doesn’t want me.”

Cassian brought you closer to him as he sat next to you and let you cry on his shoulder.

You cried and cried, and cried until there was nothing left. Cried until you couldn’t cry.

And when you finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Cassian glanced out the house to the gardens where his brother trailed Elain, and Cassian made a decision.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You told my brother!?” You shrieked. Rhysand and Cassian was now sitting around you in Rhys’s study.

“You told Cassian before me?” Rhysand shot back. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, “Oh please I didn’t tell him anything I was throwing up flowers in front of him, not much I could do except explain.”

Shaking his head, Rhys sighed as he glanced at Cassian and they both shared a look. Narrowing your eyes, the tendrils in your mind crept towards your brother and the general, and surprise coated your face when you realised they had shut you out.

“Let me remind you what I do is my choice.”

“Not when your life is at stake,” Rhysand retorted.

So he had decided something against your will already. Of course, your brother who wanted to help everyone, your brother who thought you were his responsibility, his burden to bear. Your brother who claimed to value your opinion oh so much but then never, not once, ever considered how you feel in anything that had to do with you.

“He doesn’t care. I haven’t even been actively hiding it from him, it’s just that he’s never around to notice,” You said bitterly, “Did you know he missed my birthday? You all did. Because usually he’s the one going around reminding everyone the week before. Did you know our anniversary passed and I had waited for him all day just to realise he was with her?” Stray tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold them back.

Crying meant that you were weak.

And you hated being weak.

That was when Cassian spoke, “Have Madja remove the flowers.”

Rhysand shot a look at him.

“She won’t survive otherwise. Even as we discuss this now she is running out of time, Rhys. Azriel’s infatuation with Elain is unforgivable and at least this way we can save her. Their relationship might never be the same but if Azriel is truly in love with Elain as she feels, then it is possible this way everyone wins.”

“I don’t want the male who almost killed my sister in my court,” Rhys bit out.

“Convincing Azriel that what he is doing is wrong will take too long. Maybe we should have interfered when it first started but now it’s too late. We can still save her, really save her. Not their relationship but at least she’ll live,” “And live with a bond that will eventually diminish into nothing?” “Maybe it’s better that way.”

Glancing between Cassian and your brother, your own inner turmoil seemed to be playing out in front of you as they discussed everything that you had not been able to come to terms with yourself. A part of you could still hardly believe that Azriel would do something like this, hurt you in this way when he himself swore that he would be loyal for eternity.

Mates.

A sacred connection that determined your equal, your partner in everything.

But your parents were mates too…and that did not work out well. So maybe it was time for you to let your mate go.

However, as you opened your mouth to agree with Cassian, to agree that maybe the best option would be to remove the flowers directly, the consequences of your feelings being stolen be damned, a cough climbed up your throat.

And as you coughed out bloody petals onto Rhysand’s office floor….everything went dark.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

It had all happened quickly, too quickly for Rhysand’s liking.

One moment he was debating with Cassian how they would save his sister’s life, the next moment as she was about to say something and he watched in horror as blood came out instead of words. Her eyes drooped and he raced to catch her from hitting her head on the hard wooden floors, and as his ears started ringing, holding his sister’s lifeless body in his arms, as he watched golden tears stream out of her eyes, he noticed there was someone screaming.

And it was not until his throat hurt, until his own throat burned, that he realised he was the one screaming, crying out loud for his sister who’s body seemed as lifeless as the one he had lost all those years ago.

“Get Madja!” He roared at Cassian, “Get her NOW!”

Less that a minute went by when Morrigan and Feyre came into the room, Feyre let out a horrified gasp as Mor took in the scene, freezing as she realised her cousin, her best friend, her only companion during the times after Eris and Keir, was in Rhysand’s arms, still and lifeless even as blood trickled out of her mouth and gold spilled form her closed eyelids.

Madja came shortly after, and Y/N’s body was moved to a different room for Madja to work, Cassian explaining what happened and the illness in Y/N’s body that was causing this. Morrigan took a few steps back, before she crashed into the wall of the hallway and let out her own sob.

And for the first time after Rhysand and Y/N had returned from the mountain, Morrigan wept.

Two days passed, and Y/N did not wake.

Madja estimated that they would have to make a decision within the week whether they would tell Azriel, or cut the flowers out.

And in those two days Azriel did not come.

It was only after Rhysand had asked him to meet, told him about Y/N did Azriel finally realised he had not seen his mate in days. That he had not even spent more than fifteen minutes with her in the past few months.

It was only after Rhysand said that Y/N was dying, did Azriel reach down the now cold and empty bond, and realise he had shut her out. And when he let his walls down, experienced the agony, the pain, the grief she felt even in her unconscious state, did Azriel regret.

“Why didn’t she tell me…” Azriel whispered.

“Because she heard you when I told you to stay away from Elain. I looked into her mind and I realised the day her disease started she went to find you, and you had been in my office, yelling at me that the cauldron had made a mistake, that you wanted Elain,” Rhysand laughed coldly. Even Rhys in all his beauty, his eyes were now red from sobbing, his voice hoarse from how he had cried, and cried.

“Good job, Azriel,” Cassian said from the doorway, “You got what you wanted. Your bond will no longer exist once she awakes…that’s if she survives even.”

“No….I don’t,” Azriel muttered, “Rhysand…what conversation?” Rhysand furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you really playing this game with me now? My sister is DYING! AND YOU WANT TO PRETEND LIKE YOU FORGOT WHAT YOU SAID!?”

Azriel’s eyes looked back and forth between his brother’s….when did he…when did he even get here?

Where was his mate?

Why did it feel like something just cleared from his head?

That was when Elain stepped in, holding a mug and what looked to be tea.

“Azriel, i heard your distress, drink this it will make you feel better,” She said softly, but as Rhysand’s eyes narrowed on the mug, it was Cassian who snatched it out of her hands, brought it to his eyes and shattered it on the already ruined hard wood floors.

“That was not just tea.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

And as Cassian lifted his head he declared, “As General of the Night court, I arrest you for illegal possession and use of aphrodisiacs. You are charged with attempted murder of the Princess of the Night Court. You are charged with manipulation and forced betrayal of the court’s spymaster,” And with a menacing grin Cassian said, “And you are charged because you bloody annoy me and you…what you have done today makes me want to rip you to shreds.”

A beat passed.

“That is….” Cassian continued as he glanced at Azriel, with each blink clarity seemed to return to the shadowsinger as he processed everything, as he remembered everything Elain made him do, as he remembered how he had hurt his mate, “That is if Azriel decides he doesn’t want to kill you first.”

Elain let out a scoff, looking down at the spilled tea and broken pieces of ceramic in disgust, “Azriel loves me. Azriel should love me not that disgusting slut of a female, she might be a princess but she is-,” “Mine.” Azriel interrupted.

“She was mine before you interfered. She was mine before you made me break her.” Azriel turned, no doubt to go find Y/N.

“Start counting your days, Elain, because now they are numbered.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Part 2 here!!

Love, Ellie.

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel acomaf #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #rhysand #cassian #morrigan #feyre #elain

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naffeclipse · 7 months ago

Text

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 5

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Ah, here we are! The last chapter in the Hocus Pocus AU by @jackofallrabbits and me! Once more, I'm honored and thrilled to have @deliasmilkshake's cover art for the finale! I can't say how grateful I am for everyone's support and lovely comments on this little series! There's a wedding to attend, so let's get to it <3

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

The coolness of the woody air, cut away from the hot and claustrophobic space of the crowded gymnasium overflowing with celebration, brushes over your skin. Half-bare in your ruined sweater, you shiver. Eclipse eases you with a soft sound. His fingertips slip under your sweater and trace over your back to soothe the goosebumps prickling your flesh. Leaning deeper into him, you clutch him tightly in your arms.

You’ve never held someone so close before.

If you don’t open your eyes now, you’ll never believe this is real. The witches. The curses. The ceremony. All of it will be a dream on one cold October night while you lie in bed alone.

So you do. Little by little, you lift your cheek from his chest and tilt your head back, and behold the unnatural man, come back from the dead, who awaits your vows. His eyes glimmer gently in rich golden hues. The sharp cuts of his sun rays remind you of the encroaching sunrise, and you realize the sky is losing its stars as the black dillutes into a dawn of dark gray.

“We will have the ceremony here.” Eclipse inclines his head around you. “It may be simple, but it is only for the time being. When there is no urgency, we will celebrate properly with food and wine and the most beautiful altar. It will be to your heart’s desire, little comet.”

You look around to find what he describes as simple, and balk softly. You are not in the high school gym set in town but a clearing filled with half-dead vines twisting around the bare ground set amid shadowy trees with whispering boughs and the last of autumn’s leaves. The starlight barely reaches you. Dozens of round, orange pumpkins litter the ground around your feet. In the center of the pumpkin patch is a beautiful black wood tree with thick, bark-cracked limbs reaching high with a canopy of bright red and yellow leaves to serve as your altar.

Behind you, smoke not unlike from the party Eclipse just whisked you away from swirls and recedes further back into the cold night, unveiling Sun and Moon. They stand tall and expectant, their hands filled with silvery threads like spider gossamer and the veil of a bride. Sun’s yellow sun rays catch your eyes like a peacock fanning its tail. Moon’s hood lays quietly over his head and casts a calm shadow over the scarlet of his eyes. The weight of their gazes fall over you.

They are here for you too. The twitch in your limbs answers to the anticipation overflowing from your core.

You breathe in deeply. There are two people missing. Turning back to Eclipse, your lips poised to ask about your friends and how the brothers might intend to shuck their curses from them, when the smoke behind Sun and Moon continues to dissolve before it reveals just the ones heavy on your mind.

Michael and Vanessa.

Confusion crosses Michael’s undead face. Purple flesh upon his brow shoots up in alarm before his gaze finds you in the arms of the eldest witch. At his feet, the white rabbit raises her ears high. Vanessa’s green eyes pierce you with alarm and fright most unspeakable.

Your heart aches at the sight of them so drenched in dark magic. Reaching out a hand in a placating motion, you start to call out to them.

“Don’t!” Michael shouts overrules yours, as fierce and protective as he has been all through the night. He charges forward. “Get away from—”

Magic spills from Sun’s and Moon’s lips in a twining harmony. Their gazes are steel while their voices lift and multiply, filling the air with gales of hot and cold air before the old leaves on the pumpkin vines shudder. Creaking and crawling across the dirt, the dark green tendrils come to life and snatch Michael’s ankles, stopping him short as he struggles to remain balanced.

Vanessa bounds towards you. Her small body leaps over pumpkins and scurries around snares of pumpkin tendrils. She dodges a snaring vine before a second, hidden one snatches her, twisting her small little form into its clutches and holding her a few inches above the ground. Her feet kick out. Her entire body struggles as she tries violently to free herself but to no avail.

“Don’t hurt them.” You clutch Eclipse’s cloak until your knuckles turn white. Pleading with your entire being, you find his gaze. “Please. They’re my friends.”

A dryness infiltrates your mouth. Will they be better than what the villagers and witch hunters feared them to be? Can you ask them to be good for you? Your core burns with yearning, the hope of a brighter day filled with peace and joy, not more darkness. Not more pain and fear.

You don’t want to lose them.

Eclipse gently covers your fists and soothes them out until your palms relax against his chest.

“They won’t be harmed,” Eclipse nods towards his brothers. His sonorous voice lowers. “Sun and Moon understand your conditions. We have brought your friends here to give you our gifts, and to ensure there are no more interruptions.”

You nod shakily. A feeble tremble lingers throughout you, raking through your fingers and along your jawline. Your witch suitors have proven again and again their capabilities for wickedness and they continue to chase it through the midnight hours, but not here. They stand still, at your service. How they terrify you. How they enchant you.

Every single night you dreamt of someone to love, someone who would keep you warm and chase away the loneliness.

Have you found them or are you a love-sick fool still reaching for something that is not yours?

“Run, get away from here!” Michael struggles against the vines rooting him in place. Leaves twine tighter around his corpse-like body, forcing him to his knees and leaving him bound from his ankles all the way to his shoulders, wrapped up like a cruel gift.

One glower from Sun sends one last pumpkin vine around Michael’s flesh-rotten mouth and gags him.

Vanessa twists and writhes. Her small rabbit body struggles in the grasp of the vine snare and she sinks her teeth into it, attempting to chew through the restraint while her wide, desperate eyes flash to you.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Stop struggling. It’s going to be okay. Please, trust me.”

Michael stops fighting. A fear and anger so raw fills his gaze as Sun and Moon step after you. His fists clench as his jawbone wiggles, but his muffle words die behind the vine covering his teeth.

A strong sound jumps from Vanessa, caught between an animalistic cry and a human sob. She looks at you. Her wide eyes shine with dread.

Eclipse takes you by the shoulders, his eyes burning low as he turns you away from the fear of your friends. You keep your eyes on both of them.

“It’s okay,” you whisper again.

“Come, come, little comet.” Eclipse recaptures your attention with a finger hooking under your chin. “The hour is nigh. Sunrise is too near for us to wait any longer.”

“I know.” Your pulse swells in your ears, beating within you like a drum to a dance that’s too fast-paced for your feet to keep up with.

Your eyes stray from his somber expression to the black tree. Between the red and yellow leaves are dozens of spiderwebs, glimmering softly like silk streamers just for the ceremony. Gently, Eclipse releases you to stand back as Sun and Moon slip around you from both sides.

“My poppet,” Sun’s voice is sensual and warm. “Allow me to dress you in spider gossamer for this fine occasion.”

You slowly dip your head, all too confused but too uncertain to stop him as he draws out threads of silvery silk. He gently lays them upon your shoulders. His pale eyes swim with passion. A gentle murmur of magic flows from his lips, and you become enveloped in a light and cool cascade of fabric softer than rain and lighter than feathers. You look down at yourself.

Catching the fading shimmer of magic, you are now draped in an elegant but simple silver gown. A high neck collars you with big, flowing sleeves which cinch at your wrists with thick embroidery. The skirt falls in an A-shape and flows softly in the gentle wind of the night around your feet, almost brushing the dirt.

Your wedding attire. You touch the skirt with a delicate hand as if it may fall apart like a cobweb brushed away, but instead, you watch in silent marvel at the rippling, silk-like glimmer of the cloth.

Strangely, Sun possesses your clothes in his arms now. Your mind spins with questions but you are learning all too well that the answer is magic. With a smirk, he tosses aside the holey sweater and your dirt-stained jeans. The clothes land on the shell of a large, orange pumpkin.

“Beautiful,” Sun lowers his head in pleasure, his hand at his chest and his other arm held out in a formal bow to you. “Never was there a more lovely bride for three brothers.”

You blush fiercely.

“It is beautiful,” you admit, clutching a fistful of the skirt. You lift it and wave it back and forth once to watch it glimmer again.

“I’m not speaking of the dress, sunshine.” Sun straightens with a grin so devious, you must wonder again if you’re giving up your soul in such a ceremony.

A cool touch falls upon your hand. Claws curl carefully over your wrist. Dropping the skirt, you twist upon your feet to face Moon.

“A veil for you.” He holds it in his other hand. The delicate and sheer gossamer flows like silver water. “Lower your head. I will crown you in it.”

You bow slightly. Moon sweeps your hair back with his cool, careful fingertips and pins the veil upon your skull like a tiara. The soft, celestial fabric falls down around you. Blinking, you stare in awe at yourself, shrouded in majestic silver.

Moon gazes at you softly. His eyes fall from your hair and he reclaims your palm for a moment to behold you entirely.

“Exquisite.” He bows his head over your hand. “I dreamt of you since Eclipse first told us what he found in his bone scrying. I have waited for you all this time, my snowflower.”

A tremble falls over your bottom lip—not of fear, though there is still an anxious sparking within your nerves. You are washed away in his sincerity. The true intentions of a lover.

You have no words, and instead, gently squeeze his hand.

“May I add one last touch,” Eclipse says. He steps forward.

You lift your head to him as his gaze glows gently in the darkness like twin stars which circle you as his brothers step back. Eclipse sets his hand on your shoulder. Your breath slows as his touch traces your collarbone and falls down your side. You almost sway under his hand holding your hip before he sinks onto one knee to trail his palm along your thigh and all the way to your calf, touching your gown all the way down.

He speaks a gentle spell. You dare not move an inch as a gentle pulse, milky and starlight-like, falls over the cloth. You burn in the darkness like a candle. The gown stands out against the darkness like a comet streaking through the night sky.

“Oh,” is all you can say as you look down at yourself. There are no words which can contain the magnitude of what you feel towards the beauty and thought of their wedding attire for you. Though Sun, Moon, and Eclipse spark and snap like flames with their wide eyes and tall statures, you twinkle bright.

Emotion cakes your throat. Thickly, you swallow it back.

“A little starlight.” Eclipse smiles, his eyes burning sweetly. “For you are our equal, our partner, our bride.”

You don’t feel powerful. You don’t feel important enough to be involved in magic and ceremonies and love, yet here you stand, swathed in their adoration and gifts. You take hold of your skirt once more.

“Let us begin the ceremony,” Eclipse says softly. He takes your elbow and arm in arm, he walks you through a footpath worn through the pumpkin patch to the black tree, gnarled but beautiful. A most befitting altar.

Taking your other arm is Sun, sliding close to you with a simmering smile so close to you, you wonder if the slight heat brushing against your cheek is from his presence or the blood rush in your face. Behind you, like a pale shadow, Moon tenderly takes your skirt and follows close behind, keeping the beautiful fabric from gathering dust and pumpkin fronds.

And so you go to your wedding altar.

In times before, marriage served to form alliances between families. Parents arranged such contracts for children to benefit both parties. Most couples didn’t and couldn’t marry for love, rather they were bound for purely economic liaisons.

How beautiful is it that you could arrange yourself into a marriage most lovely?

Your grooms stop at the black tree. Eclipse slips away from your hand, and you look to him in confusion, fearing where he might wander away to. The elder witch grins as he simply looks at his brother. Sun’s hand lingers on your arm, trailing down to your wrist before he steps back, still beaming, still eager, but patient.

You turn slowly under the dusting of moonlight to face Moon. A swell rises in your heart, crashing through you until you’re sticky with emotion. His expression is soft and sweet like milk and honey. He gathers your hands between his own. Looking down, Moon draws the pads of his thumbs softly over your knuckles as if wishing to memorize the bone structure of your much smaller hands.

There is no time at all, but you keep the quiet with him, studying his mild countenance. His breaths are deep and even. A gentle scent of something late and herbal laces him, and you’re taken back to the mausoleum where he tasted you.

His eyes lift. The scarlet gleam holds you tender.

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is gentle in its rasp. His eyes never leave you, drinking you in like wine. “My love is yours, for time and all eternity. I will honor you dearly, little mouse.”

A soft sound catches in your throat, somewhere between a chuckle and a weeping sound. You thought joy would be without tears, but you stand, clutching his claws tightly in your fists to steady yourself.

“I do.” The moonlight brightens as the words leave your lips. You watch in silent awe as the silver glow of the night dances over you both, and you taste midnight upon your tongue as Moon smiles.

He carefully takes your veil and lifts it over your head, allowing the silver threads to fall down your back. He leans in gently. In the way the tide is tugged by the lunar celestial body, you meet him in the small space between your bodies. The witch’s kiss presses to your mouth in a gentle yearning, pushing and pulling so long as you follow in time. You fall into him. Deepening the kiss, Moon cradles your lips against the white curve of his fangs. You sigh contently as you lose your breath in his presence, starstruck.

He releases you, though only your mouth. His hands clasp yours tightly and he softly caresses the back of your hands. Tied along his wrists are deep blue ribbons. Bells jangle softly underneath.

“I will keep you unto me forevermore.” Moon traces your digits with his claw. The soft glow of his gaze fills you with his sincerity.

You sink into his words like a pool of silver. You nod deeply.

“I will cherish you,” you promise in a trembling, choked voice. The power of the engagement drapes over you, pressing upon you the great importance of this entanglement.

“Breathe, little mouse.” He smiles. “I will keep you safe.”

You laugh quietly, too overwhelmed for words but your happiness seeps through all the same.

He kisses you once more before he lifts his head high. Following his gaze, you find Vanessa has stopped fighting. Her little rabbit nose twitches fast, afraid.

Moon offers a spell, deep and cool but releasing. His voice overlaps. A scent of sharp, pungent herbs swirls on the night breeze before he nods his head once more. Your old clothes fly off of the pumpkin they were resting on, and fall onto Vanessa still tangled in the pumpkin vines.

A moment later, in a shrouded flash of light, vines snap and clothes stretch, and there is a woman where there was once a rabbit.

Vanessa, thankfully, wears your sweater and jeans. Her green eyes fit much better in her human face as she kneels upon the ground and lifts her hands. Long blonde hair falls down around her shoulders. Slowly, she turns over her palm and clenches her fingers. No longer trapped, she gazes up at you.

Shock shines in her eyes, but her lips form soft awe.

“Vanessa,” you smile breathlessly. Whirling back, you kiss Moon once to his slight shock. “Thank you.”

“I will answer to your every desire,” he murmurs, then releases you.

Moon slips back from you. Before you can think of reaching for him, Sun takes you into his arms. You gasp softly at the warmth of his embrace surrounding you like you were basking near an open fire.

“Sunshine, I was beginning to fear you’ve forgotten about me.” He takes you carefully, slipping your feet onto his as he begins to spin you slowly, like a star tailspinning through the atmosphere. “You could never, could you? Not when I still vye for your kiss—and now, your vows returned.”

You hold onto his shoulders. Carefully underneath the gnarled limbs of the black tree, Sun waltzes you to an unsung song. He hums slowly with a gentle rumble in his chest. His eyes upon you are hungry in the way a candle flame clings to a wick, desperate to devour but unable to spread like a wildfire.

“No, I couldn’t forget you, Sun,” you whisper. He has left you dizzy and stunned, racing with you upon his broom and then pinning you underneath him upon a bed. There is too much you marvel about him to forget.

He twirls you gently, the moonlight blurring around you between earth and sky before he recaptures you. The threat of dawn seems so close and yet so far away from this wild pumpkin patch.

“That is all I can ask, though you must know, I want more of you.” His grin is wide but honest. How could you expect anything less from the one who has coveted you so zealously?

His hand rests on the small of your back. Pulling you flush against him, he holds you for one breathless moment, caught like two figurines in the apex of a lovers’ dance.

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is steady, without flirtations or sultry suggestions. An honest question from a witch. “You have simply enchanted me, dove. I am at your mercy. I am at your service. And if you will, your bedside, your mornings, and your sunsets.”

Your eyelids flutter. A gentle push of tears make their way past your eyes, and you hold his wide, pale gaze. He searches your face with held breath. He clutches your hand and presses it to his chest, bared open to you. The bells tied to the dark red ribbons on his wrists jingle softly.

“I do.” You speak with the gentleness of certainty. The leaves overhead ruffle with a breeze that is far more fitting for summer than an incoming winter. Pressed so close, you fear he must know how your heart trembles in the wonder of knowing that he loves you, and you love him.

His expression erupts in sheer, unadulterated joy. He spins you once more, dancing as if he were walking on air before he dips you low. You intake a deep breath as he holds you above the pumpkin patch. His grin fills your entire vision as his fingers press softly into your dress. He wastes not a moment to crush your mouth in a kiss.

His hunger and eagerness leaves you breathless as he takes and takes before he gives just as much in return. You are captured within his affection. He is smooth and practiced, and you almost feel self conscious, but gently, he leads you. He guides your lips and teases you with his teeth. Even his tongue brushes the inside of your mouth before he softens it to a trickle after the flood of his expression. You taste a sweetness that slips down your throat like honey.

Gently, he brings you back up on your feet, though he does not release you. He kisses you again, greedily taking more. You are putty in his hands, molded by his mouth as if you were a honeycomb caught between teeth.

“Sunny,” Eclipse murmurs once in gentle warning.

Sun draws back reluctantly as if being torn from water after days in the desert. You gasp softly, your shoulders rising and falling after the rush of his love.

“I have devoted myself to you, my poppet,” he whispers into your ear as you rest against his chest. “My love is yours and yours alone.”

“Oh, Sun,” you clutch his shoulders tighter. “I will adore you for the rest of my days.”

“I know, sunshine.” He grins but softly kisses your cheek once in a strangely rare but precious, chaste gesture. “But I must share you or else I will keep you all night.”

He straightens, his arms still encircling you. Pale eyes sweep back and you eagerly look at Michael. He’s stopped fighting as well, no longer thrashing but watching with a strange, conflicted crinkle of his brow. Vanessa kneels close by, unmoving, still staring at her legs and arms and touching her hair.

Your entire body aches for Michael. The curse stains his flesh and twists him into a silver-screen monster.

Sun breathes a spell. His voice fills the air in unearthly chants that sweep over the ground and whirl the leaves on the pumpkin vines. They slowly crawl back, releasing Michael just as the same bright flash of energy and power takes hold of your dear friend.

The purple corpse recedes back and unveils the man underneath. Michael’s hair returns to its warmer shade of brown. His eyes blink and his corenas return white while his irises take hold with light and life. Rotten flesh returns to a rich tan color. His torn clothes refill with his healthy size and strength.

He clenches and unclenches his fists. Slowly, he stumbles forward. Vanessa helps catch him before he folds entirely after being freed from the witches’ curse.

You startle—is his leg still broken? Vanessa, however, stabilizes Michael, coaxing him to sit beside her. He folds his legs with natural ease—healed and whole.

“Michael, you’re alright,” you breathe, clutching Sun together.

He gives you a nod though in a slight daze. He opens his mouth but then decides against whatever he was going to say.

“Thank you.” You turn to Sun. “Thank you for sparing him.”

“Anything for our bride,” he simpers. With a great sigh, however, he lets go of you, his fingertips trailing over your sides before falling back beside Moon.

Under the black tree, Eclipse stands, patient but enduring.

You face him. He lifts his head but remains humble and composed before gently approaching. The light of a new day is beginning to change from deep gray to a burning orange leaking rosy pink at the edges. The sunrise is as terrifying as it is promising.

Eclipse opens his arms to you. Without hesitation, you enter his embrace as his hand finds your cheek. Tied tight around his wrist is a black ribbon with golden bells. His claws rest delicately on your hip over the silky soft fabric of your gown. Lightly, his thumb caresses your cheek. The gold of his gaze falls over you, gentle as the night.

“Little comet,” he says, steady despite the impending light threatening to take away all. Yet, he takes his time, tasting his words before giving them to you. “Do you take me to be your husband? I have waited—”

In a heart rush, you utter, “I do.”

Eclipse stares, eyes wide. His red sun rays catch the first glance of daylight, brightening his vision as if a spotlight fell upon him. He looks towards the horizon as you do. You squint slightly against the brightness.

Lifting his hand from your face, he watches the black ribbon and bells dissolve into dark smoke, then nothing. Sun and Moon turn their wrists as the respectful dark red and deep blue ribbons fall away from them as if burned and leave not a wisp behind.

You take Eclipse’s hand and draw it closer to you, gently kissing his knuckles before smiling.

“You’re free. You’re all free.” You flush deeply as you look to Sun and Moon and their gazes of content awe. “My husbands.”

A soft, strange sound leaves Eclipse. A breath caught between wonder and something deeper, something roiling with adoration. His gaze falls back to you, and again, he touches your cheek.

“I did not finish my vows to you.” He cradles your face close in his palms, leaning closer as your eyes lock. “I swear to you happiness, protection, and my unending love. From this day on, you will always be warm. You will always have my hand to hold. You will never fear the darkness for I will be with you.”

He pauses, his grin spreading wide. He looks at you as if you were a dream. A living, breathing vision.

“We are eternally bound to you, our spouse.” Eclipse leans in close. “Say my name, once more.”

Your eyelids slip close for one precious moment, warmed by the brilliant light, and the touch of Eclipse’s hands cradling you as if you were delicate.

“Eclipse,” you whisper.

His grin is beautiful and lovely. You start as you feel a second pair of arms surround you. Sweeping you off your feet, Eclipse lifts you into his embrace. This close, he smells of gentle spice and musk.

He strokes your cheek once before closing the distance between your lips. You feel his hunger in the echo of your own—the want to devour but gently, he tastes you. A soft whine catches in the back of your throat. Melting under his warmth, he invades you gently and his tongue brushes against your own. His kiss takes you under, and you drop breathlessly into his grasp.

He pulls and takes in soft, sweet motions. Rhythmic and powerful, he tastes you until you fear you might fall once more. But he will catch you. This much you are certain.

He pulls back gently, kissing you one last time as if in need of the strength it gives him, before his honeyed gaze settles on you.

“Your freckles are beautiful, like the stars upon the night sky,” he says. He kisses the right side of your face, then glides to the left and lingers there a moment. “You are truly staying with us, my little comet.”

You blush, and cling to him. Your hands, however, are gently tugged. You look away from Eclipse to find Moon curling his claws under your digits and lifting your hand sweetly to his mouth. Eclipse shifts you gently in his arms to rest you against his back while keeping you cradled like a bride on her wedding night—you suppose you are such a bride, Sun’s hand traces from your shoulder down your arm until he captures your hand. There, he kisses your knuckles slowly. You close your eyes, bubbling in the blissful sunlight as your husbands adore you.

A kiss like the brush of a moth wing touches your head. Eclipse hums gently against you. You make a soft, sweet sound at their tender affection.

“My husbands,” you say, then laugh a little, beaming at their gentle looks. “I’m going to have to get used to saying that.”

“You will,” Sun purrs, “And there’s so much time for us to grow used to our lovely spouse.”

“So much time,” Moon rasps gently, “You must be exhausted.” He kisses your fingertips until you shiver and blush.

“Perhaps we should take our bride home,” Eclipse suggests gently. “You can sleep in our bed and rest, and when you wake, we’ll celebrate more.”

You stir at the thought. You won’t drive back to your tiny apartment. No, instead you will stay here with your husbands, and the bed you will sleep in will be warm and filled with their bodies.

You won’t wake up alone.

“I’d like that.” You squeeze Sun’s and Moon’s hands and turn your head back to gaze at Eclipse with a fond smile.

A quiet voice says your name. You turn your head, stunned to find Michael and Vanessa stepping towards you. Vanessa supports Michael’s arm around her shoulders as his strength seems to wane. Their eyes are mirrors of witch hunters from long ago as they behold the brothers holding their virgin bride.

Claws tighten around you. Moon flashes his sharp teeth as Sun lifts his chin high, looking down at the pair with disdain. The arms holding you off the ground squeeze in the slightest until you wriggle. Eclipse nearly keeps you away, but gingerly, he sets you back on your feet.

Michael holds your gaze, his brow crinkled in concern but restored to his natural health.

“Are you really staying with them?” he asks quietly, his gaze darting sharply to the witches.

You smile at the slight shifting around you. The drape of Moon’s cloak almost falls over your shoulder as he takes your hand close and caresses your arm. A murmur of wishing to return them both to rabbits falls from Sun’s lips, but he merely interlocks his digits between your own. Behind you, Eclipse draws a tender hand down your back, feeling the ridges of your spine through the delicate fabric of your gown.

“I love them.” You look at your husbands. Their faces brighten, their touches softening upon you. “I’m staying.”

“What do we do now?” Vanessa asks. Her face looks lost, and you imagined after a few centuries of only guarding the starry candle, she must be.

You muse for a moment, and survey your husbands with a careful air. “Is your home now my home?”

“Of course,” Eclipse answers without hesitation. “Everything that is ours is yours.”

“Then I may invite my friends inside?”

Sun and Moon exchange a glance, Sun more annoyed than Moon’s mild surprise, but they both incline their heads.

“If that is your wish,” Moon gives gently.

“It is.” You squeeze their palms. “We can start a proper home, and we can learn how to forgive.”

“Forgive?” Vanessa balks.

“Yes.” You look at her as the bright light of day touches her face. Her eyes are truly green and sharp like cut emeralds. “Let’s get out of this pumpkin patch and go home and rest. Then we can make peace.”

Michael looks down at Vanessa.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, unlike my ancestor.” His brow is set firm. To your awe, Michael does not tremble with rage or the need to fight again. Perhaps the witches are beginning to prove themselves, and Michael will give them a chance. Just one chance.

“Very well then, my poppet.” Sun turns to you and kisses you in a sudden burst of heat and passion before he releases you. Stunned, you almost sway but Eclipse wraps an arm around your waist. Sun gestures with his free arm in an open invitation. “Enter our humble abode. You are our spouse’s guests, which means you are ours.”

Vanessa glares at him. Her foot falls down on a withered vine and it cracks.

“Charming as ever, Vanessa.” Sun flashes his teeth in a grin.

“Sun,” you chastise.

He rubs your wrist, half apologetic.

“I will make soup.” Moon muses. “My cauldron pot is where I left it, I hope.”

The heaviness in the air reminds you that the night has been long, and you are dreadfully exhausted. Vanessa and Michael barely hold themselves upright, but they lean on each other.

“Excellent.” Eclipse waves his hand. Smoke seeps up from the ground, swirling around your feet before you close your eyes, and lean into the pillars of your husbands for support.

The air changes. A slight breeze, warm for October, encircles you. You inhale a gentle scent of rich earth and dust. When you open your eyes again, the brothers’ home is standing before you, same as it ever was, but entirely changed.

Perhaps it’s only you who has changed, now hanging on to the witches.

Michael and Vanessa are just behind you and the witches, standing on the gravel outside of the home, disgruntled about the change of scenery or perhaps the use of magic, but you hope they’ll see the possibility of goodness within the brothers as you have.

Eclipse’s hand slips under your chin to lift your head back. His expression warms with the bright new day. Sun kisses your fingertips until you shiver in delight. Moon turns your palm over to reach the delicate lines of veins along your wrist, and presses his lips to your pulse.

“We are home,” Eclipse says. He kisses the top of your head.

You are home with your husbands.

#naff's writing commissions #hehehe Happy Halloween!!!#make sure you let jack know how much you like this au <3333 #and tell delia how incredible their art is!!!#hocus pocus au my beloved #witch!eclipse #witch!sun #witch!moon #charm brought it back #naff writing

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