#starlight lullaby

[nikonautic]

doodled my mlp ocs as humans for fun!

starlight lullaby looks weird but i think its because i had nowhere to put purple, which is a big part of her pony design ;^;

[kreeeeeez]

violet frost and violette rainbow

[acourtofquestions]

Fanon that has too many plot holes to ever be Canon … but made me pull a “Michael, you cried at that tagline for a movie you made up”

What if the Velarian — is that the word for those from Velaris? — dream sequence/song Rhys sent to Feyre Under the Mountain (as addressed here, mainly cause its 1 of my favs🥹😭)

— “You,” I breathed, not taking my eye from the musicians playing so skillfully that even the diners had set down their forks in the cafés nearby.

“You sent that music into my cell. Why?”

Rhysand's voice was hoarse. “Because you were breaking. And I couldn't find another way to save you.” —

What if that was the same melody his mom used to sing to him as a child — as I imagine her singing a lot; as an Illyrian female without a voice, a woman ripped from the dreams she only glimpsed in Velaris & never got to live, bound by cold-hearted Illyrian customs. She would’ve been left with very little to give the son she adored; only able to give him her love & lessons as a mother. So, I imagine where cookies could not be rationed & baked, and customs would not allow her to hug her child when he cried, she might’ve sung to him… he might’ve caught her rebellious joyful spirit in little moments of song, humming, even through the coldest grueling winters… might’ve watched her sing & soothe his little sister to sleep the same way, bringing her sweet dreams.

… So, when he had nothing left to give Feyre, he gave her the only thing he knew how; because it was all he had been given; art -music- and a beautiful “dream to keep him company”… his mother had fought to ensure he would know such things, & grow to be the man that would not only know them, but create them. Give them to his people, and his person; Feyre, the one that would be the reason why, his soulmate, his forever love.

[dracolunae]

Star bunnies :3

[oceanofnikkis]

[lunar-lair]

(Starlight, love, our final hope: a casey jr piece)

Little star

A boy is born into a world of chaos, and fear, and doubt. Abandoned, stripped of family by the same fate that took most everyone in this world.

And yet, when his new mother finds him, he laughs, and babbles curiously up at her.

Darling starlight

He grows up loved. Despite every roadblock, and all the pain and worry and fear, he grows up loved.

The sunshine we were left,

He’s…this bright spot. This young little thing, that laughs and loves. That doesn’t know the fear and the darkness that’s been sewn into their very beings.

By the gods that have fled

He feels like a gift. The first star in a neverending night. Sunshine, after years of overcast. Hope, and love, and their last stand.

The moon will glow

Of course, he’s not left without hurt.

The sea will rise

Of course, he grows up in this world, just as generations before him have, just as his sensei did.

The sky will fall

Of course, he loses and loses and never gains back. Loses his mother and his uncles, one who he never met, and his grandfather and his pure love.

And still, the stars will shine

But he is still loved. He will always be loved. He will always be hot headed and headstrong and bright, bright, bright.

We must leave you, starchild

He’s their last hope.

For the great beyond

He’s the next generation, their shining sun, the best of them all.

But, we promise, darling,

There’s one last hope.

Love and dear lilac (do you know what that is, sweetheart?) and the sun and the sky, and everything you never got to see

Leonardo smiles, allowing himself a bit of that sunshine, the kind he had before he ruined it all.

We love you

“Once you’ve saved the world, grab a slice!”

You are not alone

And their last hope is sent back, back to save it all, back to live a better life, the life he deserves.

You will never be alone

Leonardo dies, there, alongside everyone else in a timeline abandoned.

You will never be alone

Casey stands, slowly, in a world where the stars shine and the sky is clear.

You will never, ever, be alone.

And leaves, to find his family, whispering underneath his breath,

“Anatawa hitorijanai.”

He finds them.

He saves it all.

He lost it all, and yet, and yet.

Starlight, and sunshine, and their final, final hope.

He did it.

And the younger version of the man who raised him slings an arm across his shoulder, the eldest brother he never met smiles down at him, the twin he knew for a scant few years rolls his eyes his way, the fearless general he knew to the last moment laughs, the youngest he knew as the greatest mystic warrior of all time grins wide and silly, and his mother.

His mother grins and laughs along, cackles and gives a war cry, just like she used to.

The sun has a long way to go before it burns out.

They will always, always have hope.

And their starchild will bring it with him, their unending faith, everywhere he goes.

He laughs along with them all, moonlight and stardust in his smile and love in his eyes, and he knows he’s made it.

[pearl-wasps]

Bruh this was supposed to be a cute thing and then I added a background and then I added rain and then I

[spikeyjo]

Rocky Mountain high just came on… Shinji head in hands

[lynnical]

I thought sally was singing the sogeking theme for a sec fsr---

Ahhh a lovely lullaby before bed

[takami-takami]

You Keep Sawdust for Starlight.

includes— hawks x reader. comfort. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader.

"I wish you could bring me with you," Keigo whispers.

"You're already with me."

"No— like," he waves away a palm. It pushes the air forcefully around in a small wisp. "Like, I wish you could shrink me down and stuff me into your shirt pocket. Somethin’ real cute like that."

Keigo's lips are pursed when he speaks, boyish and gesticulate. Although his words barely peak over the sound of your breathing, they are enough to startle you from the lullaby daze and candlelit, pillowfort days. Your hand pauses twirling a clump of feathery, dust blonde hair around its index, releasing it gently and opting to gingerly prop up your body behind you.

Your bed sheets are blue and the velvet fabric tickles your palms and fingertips. They're sapphire, splattered by glittered specks sewn in shades of yellow across its surface. Night sky, imitation Van Gogh. 

You can vet its authenticity; because unlike its painted namesake, your sheets remain intact. The comforter cradles you both in its arms, the fabric creasing like soft, blue waves, pushing and pulling you in its tides each time you shift beside him.

Your eyes flick and click to watch Keigo's.

He continues staring upwards at the popcorn ceiling as if the divots were countless stars, draped by curtains of black lashes. If tonight were colder, you might catch his breath.

"All those fancy places you go for work, and you wish you could come follow me around," you deadpan, brows stitched.

"Well, yeah." Keigo swallows and his Adam's apple bobs handsomely with each word like a fishing lure. You opt not to bite.

His nails scritch at the scruff of his beard, contemplative with viscous, syrupy thoughts.

“You always seem to be getting yourself into some trouble or another,” Keigo smiles a wet smile at the thought, still gazing up against the popcorn sky.

“People worry about you, you know," he says. "Worry if you’re safe. Worry if you’re you. You know I’ll be the first to tell you that you’re not exactly convincing.”

At that, Keigo folds two calloused hands, one over the other, against his sweater-clad chest, and exhales through his nose as he meets your eyes.

Many moons ago, you might have startled at how wide Keigo’s eyes looked when they reach yours, the black holes at their center swelling and fattening up. Tonight, you let them swallow you without fear of becoming lodged in their throat.

“I’ll think about it,” you sigh.

“I know you always think of me,” he says.

“You did say I’m predictable, didn’t you?”

You press your lips to his cheek, sticky and sweet. Keigo only opens his eyes again once you retreat back to lay beside him.

“Think of me a little while longer,” Keigo says. “And I promise I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (5)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 6k words

summary | aemond goes to reader for comfort after murdering luke. aegon throws a feast and reader and aemond sneak out.

tags | mentions of death, angst/comfort, vampire powers, tensionnnnn, mentions of incest, SMUTTTTT (MDI), oral (f), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, p in v

note | born to give aemond heirs, forced to write fanfics about him. also I loved writing aemond's pov, though it is way more difficult than reader's. also I might be projecting with that finn incident.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

In the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, the oppressive weight of the night enveloped you. The velvet drapes fluttered slightly with the soft summer breeze that whispered through the open window, a rare moment of tranquility. However, your slumber was a mere illusion, your mind cloaked in the abyss of darkness, devoid of dreams and visions that now troubled your sleep.

But your heightened senses—bathed in the echoes of vampiric instinct—felt the air shift, heard the soft footfalls quicken in the shadows. The atmosphere crackled with apprehension, jolting you into awareness. You turned, just as the chamber door burst open to reveal a figure cloaked in night and anxiety.

“Aemond,” you breathed, relief washing over you as you recognized him despite the disarray surrounding his presence. Yet, the relief was short-lived, for the anguish etched on his face struck you like a dagger of ice.

Without a second thought, you flung the silken covers aside, the fabric whispering against your skin as you stood, a vision of natural beauty in your nightgown. It was a modest garment yet beguilingly elegant, the way it clung to your form had no intent to seduce, but it still felt unseemly for him to be here.

“Aemond,” you intoned once more, your voice laced with concern that echoed in the silence of your chamber, frantic to breach the bubbling tension, “What troubles you?”

He remained mute, his expression haunting—a specter in the moonlight. Each heartbeat that passed deepened your worry, and so you closed the space between you, tenderness guiding your hands to cradle his sharp, angular cheeks, your thumbs brushing against his skin with a gentle intimacy. You sought to anchor him within your presence, as if your connection could dispel the shadows that clung to him.

“Please, Aemond,” you urged, your voice softening with each plea, like a lullaby meant to calm a frightened child, “Speak to me.”

At your touch, something flickered in the depths of his violet eye, swirling with shock and unutterable things. “I��� I did not mean to,” he stammered, his breath coming out in ragged bursts, as though each word was a struggle against a tide of despair.

“Mean to what?” Your heart raced as you searched his gaze, desperate to uncover the truth beneath the turmoil. “Aemond, tell me what you have done that weighs so heavily upon you.”

He leaned into your touch, surrendering momentarily to the comfort you offered. “I have damned myself,” he breathed, a confession laced with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

“Please, Aemond, tell me,” you implored, your heart thundering in your chest.

Aemond shook his head violently, his silver hair cascading like a waterfall of starlight, wild and untamed. “I cannot! You will condemn me.”

You withdrew your hands from his face, your fingers intertwining with his as you drew them toward your heart, your palms cooling against his warm skin. “I could never. Please, reveal it to me, Aemond,” you whispered, your voice insistent yet tender.

His breath hitched in his throat, a harsh swallow betraying the turmoil within him. As tears glistened in his violet eye—he turned away, shame etching deep lines into his brow. “I did not mean to. I did not mean to take the boy’s life, you must believe me.”

The air froze around you, a chill creeping in as your breath caught in your throat. You slowly led him toward the intricacies of your bed, pulling him with you into the sanctuary of silks and shadows. “What boy, Aemond?” you pressed urgently, your heart aching for the truth, a desperate need to understand the depths of his torment.

His voice broke, drowning in hysteria, a stark reminder of his usual composed personality made from steel, “I didn’t mean to— I swear, I didn’t mean—” he stuttered, desperation pouring from him like the dark tides of the sea.

Frustration welled within you, sharp and biting as the chill of autumn winds crept into the chamber. You pulled him down beside you, urgency fuelling your movements as you grasped his face, forcing his haunted eye to meet yours. “Aemond,” you said firmly, your tone dripping with the magic that came naturally to one of your kind. The allure of your compulsion wrapped around him like a silken trap, gently commanding his frayed emotions to still. “Calm yourself and tell me.”

Gradually, his breathing steadied, though the tremors of his fear still lingered. You held his gaze, and through the dark storm of pain reflected in his eye, he managed to choke out the words. “Lucerys. He was at Storm’s End. When I laid eyes on him, all I felt was fury—so I chased him through the skies, on Vhagar’s back…” His voice cracked like the thunder that often heralded the tempestuous nights, and he swallowed hard, “And then… I did not know Vhagar would react so violently.”

Your heart plummeted at the mention of Lucerys—Rhaenyra's beloved son. The weight of his loss hung heavily in the air, and the grim reality sank in; Aemond had killed him. The Blacks would demand retribution, blood for blood. "Tell me you lie, Aemond," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation seeping into every syllable.

He turned his gaze from you, shame encasing him like a shroud. There was a slow shake of his head, and it felt as though the world around you had muted, the chaos outside overshadowed by his revelation. "I cannot bring myself to lie to you. There is no penance that could ever atone for what I have wrought."

The sadness in your heart twisted anew as you murmured his name, "Aemond," the pain manifesting in your voice like a lamentation for the boy lost beneath the weight of his rage.

In the stillness that lingered between you, it seemed he had finally drawn a breath of composure, yet he refused to meet your eyes, speaking softly as if confiding a terrible secret. "I went to Aegon first, and he laughed... whilst Mother..." He faltered, the memory flickering like a dying candle. "She looked upon me as if I were a stranger, as if I were no longer her son."

Your heart ached for him, your hands clasped in his, both a comfort and a tether to the boy he had once been. Finally, he looked up, his eye reflecting a glimmer of vulnerability. "May I stay here with you?" he asked, almost timidly, as if fearing your rejection.

In that moment, you were transported back to another time, a fleeting memory of innocence—of the boy who had fled from the ignoble raucousness of a brothel, a shadow of the boy who once sought solace in your presence. You nodded, and the words flowed freely, tenderly, "Of course."

Yet, unease lingered in the air, evident in the way he fidgeted, lost amidst his thoughts. So slowly, you knelt before him, taking his leather boots in your hands, gently easing them from his feet. He remained poised on the edge of the bed, lost in his struggles. Next, you reached for his finely crafted doublet, peeling away the layers that held the weight of his distress. He remained clad only in his trousers and a simple cotton shirt, the stark contrast highlighting the tension etched into his features.

Your fingers found their way to his tousled hair, and with a tender caress, you could sense him leaning into your touch, a semblance of solace in the storm raging within him. But when your hand drifted towards the eyepatch concealing his scar, he recoiled instinctively, shaking his head as if to banish the very thought.

“Please, Aemond,” you urged softly, noting the flicker of resistance in his eye. “Remove it; it cannot be comfortable.”

His response was a stubborn shake of his head, reminiscent of a petulant child, “No, it is… hideous. You will turn away from me, repulsed.”

A sorrowful smile etched across your face as you cupped his cheek. Your thumb traced the remnants of his scar. “I have seen your truth before, Aemond,” you promised, sincerity tethering your words. “I swear on my mother's grave, it will not scare me.”

There was a moment of taut apprehension, then, led by both fear and a flicker of hope, he slowly lifted the eyepatch. You fought against the shock that threatened to break through your calm facade, for nestled where an eye once was, a sapphire gleamed—brighter than the sky itself. It was an iridescent gem, the very one you had gifted him just before you had left.

Slowly, you led him with great care to lie beneath the sanctuary of your blankets, cocooned in the warmth of your bed. After a moment's pause, you nestled beside him, drawing him close to your chest, his face instinctively burying itself in the curve of your neck, your arms enveloping him in a protective embrace.

After a time, Aemond's voice broke the silence, a mere whisper against your collarbone. "Do you hate me?"

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, your grip tightening around him. “I could never hate you, Aemond.”

He offered no reply, but the silence spoke volumes as you held him resolutely, the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing down upon both of you. In that moment, it felt almost surreal, how intimately connected you were to his emotions.

Gently, you began to hum, your voice weaving through the stillness like a soft breeze. The lullaby your mother once sang to you, a sweet melody birthed in the warmth of her embrace, flowed from your lips as if casting a spell of solace.

You wished, with every fiber of your being, to take all his sorrows and put it upon yourself, so he might find peace at last. You longed to envelop him fully, to draw him into the depths of your heart, to safeguard him from the malevolence and peril that lingered just beyond your chambers.

Aemond Targaryen loathed this wretched place, the shadowed halls of King's Landing, where the very stones seemed steeped in whispered betrayals and the lingering scent of ash. The oppressive weight of recent events pressed upon him like a heavy cloak; the death of Lucerys Velaryon hung in the air, suffocating him with its bitter aftermath. His beloved mother, Queen Alicent, having made her choice, had cast him aside, suspending him from his seat on the small council as if he were some wayward pup rather than the proud dragon prince he was.

Now, as the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows upon the walls, Aemond found himself trapped within a feast thrown by Aegon — a disgraceful celebration in honor of Aemond’s brutal deed. The hall was alive with the raucous laughter of lords and ladies feigning joy, their revelry a cruel mockery of the bloodshed that had transpired. How could they toast to this, when the realm itself was a tapestry of grief and strife?

Aegon, reeking of wine and folly, reclined upon his gilded seat, a silver goblet clutched in his hand as he guffawed with a drunken abandon that made Aemond’s skin crawl. With each passing moment, the king grew more intoxicated, rejoicing in his own foolishness while the kingdom itself threatened to unravel under the weight of his incompetence. Aemond could hardly bear to watch. How could they hope to usurp Rhaenyra and her support when Aegon was unfit to rule, lost in a haze of mead and merriment whilst the fires of war devoured their domain?

As the raucous clamor swirled around him, Aemond's thoughts turned treasonous. He was the prince with blood of the dragon coursing through his veins, rider of Vhagar, the mightiest dragon in the skies; he had wrested mastery over sword and word alike. His studies had taken him deep into the philosophies of Targaryen history, strategy, and the art of war — all knowledge he wielded like the sword strapped to his side. Why must he remain the second son, languishing in the shadow of a brother who was more a child than a king?

The Grand Hall was stifling, heavy with the clamor of lords and ladies engaged in mindless revelry, their laughter slicing through the air like blades of Valyrian steel. The goblet of deep red Dornish wine— he had forced down his throat—now boiled in his stomach. He stood abruptly, ignoring the wary glances of curious courtiers, and stormed toward the moonlit balcony, pursued by a dread that felt all-consuming.

Upon stepping into the cool night air his breath hitched in his throat as his gaze fell upon you. There you stood, framed by moonlight, leaning against the aged stone balustrade of the balcony as you gazed at the stars above. In that moment, the world around him faded, the cacophony of the court silenced, as if the realm had been reduced to just the two of you—two souls adrift in the sea of night.

The moon cast a silver halo around you, illuminating your features as though the Seven themselves had blessed you. You appeared ethereal, a vision of solace amidst the tempest of his thoughts. You were an otherworldly being, a divine presence—you reminded Aemond of an angel gazing longingly at her heavenly home.

You wore a divine gown of crimson, its fabric clinging to your curves and accentuating your remarkable beauty, stirring memories of the first time he had beheld you in childhood innocence. Your hair was artfully braided, interwoven among the strands were glimmering rubies, and nestled between your breasts hung a necklace bearing your family’s sigil, a house still entirely foreign to him.

The last time his path had crossed yours was after the wretched deed had been done—when he had barged into your chambers, a storm of pain and regret in his heart after slaying Lucerys Velaryon. You had held him tight, drawing him into the warmth of your embrace, while your gentle whispers—sweet reassurances—had washed over him, as soothing as a dragon’s breath on a winter’s night. He recalled the way you had traced fingers through his hair, the delicate caress of your breath against his skin, and how he had surrendered to your comfort.

When dawn had broken and shadows had retreated, he woke before you, overwhelmed by that precious moment, and with the lingering scent of lavender and warmth still clinging to him. He had kissed your forehead tenderly and slipped away, haunted by what he had done and striving to shield you from the darkness that threatened to engulf you both.

"Are you not enjoying the feast?" Aemond murmured, his voice a soft cadence as he moved closer to you.

You turned, meeting his gaze with a fierce intensity. "Am I meant to revel in a celebration held in honor of someone's death?" With a sharp breath, you averted your gaze, a flicker of regret crossing your features. "Forgive me."

Aemond’s eyes remained locked on you, the truth like a weight upon his heart—he had taken Lucerys' life, a shadow he must now bear. “You speak only the truth,” he admitted, the gravity of his words mingling with the cool night air.

You shook your head slowly, those captivating eyes piercing through the veil of his turmoil. “It is Aegon’s folly to throw such a feast given the circumstances,” you replied, your tone laced with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

Aemond couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth at your disdain for his brother's decision. "You tread upon treasonous ground," he teased, though there was an undercurrent of approval in his tone

With a resolute lift of your chin, an unbidden smile danced upon your lips, illuminating your beauty, "Do you intend to tell?"

In that charged moment, Aemond closed the distance between you, the space that once separated you now laden with tension. He leaned closer, whispering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, "You know I shall never."

With a soft sigh, you began to turn away, “I think I shall retire to my chambers now.” Aemond feigned indifference, though he struggled against the urge to let out an exasperated breath at your obvious attempt to distance yourself from him.

“Then I shall escort you,” he declared, a hint of determination flaring in his violet gaze. He noticed the way annoyance shadowed your features but sensed no protest forthcoming.

The two of you slipped away from the feast, indifferent to the lingering glances that followed your hasty exit. Festive laughter faded into the background as you walked side by side through the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep,

As you walked side by side, silence hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of your dress against the stone floor. Aemond cast furtive glances in your direction, grappling with the right words to breach the gap between you. The tension was palpable, and eventually, he settled on candor. “I wish to know more about you."

“Aemond,” you replied, and he could detect the undercurrent of hesitation in your tone as you reached your room.

With a sudden, almost frantic motion, Aemond pivoted to face you, his fingers brushing against your forearm, a firm yet gentle grip that sent a shiver down your spine. “Why do you persist in keeping yourself at a distance from me? You are like an angel I am forever barred from touching,” he implored, desperation edging his voice.

You yanked your arm away from him, your gaze fierce, betraying no hint of the storm brewing inside. “You must not perceive me in such a way! I am not the paragon of virtue you think I am.”

“Then share something,” Aemond pressed, his violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that threatened to unravel your resolve. “Something dark, something impure.”

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Is that what you seek? So you can soothe your own conscience?”

“Perhaps,” Aemond admitted with unvarnished honesty. He was, after all, a man well aware of his own self-serving tendencies, and he would not shy away from using emotional manipulation to achieve his desires. “But if you hold any affection for me, you will grant me this.”

Your eyes blazed with righteous indignation, and for a fleeting moment, he questioned if he had ventured too far. Yet, as the heat in your gaze began to dim, he felt an uneasy tension settle in the silence.

You drew your arms around yourself, a familiar gesture that he now observed closely. Your gaze fell away as you began to speak, “The Targaryens... Your customs are indeed strange. Some might even call them sinful or abominable. Yet there exists a rationale behind them, no matter how obscure.”

“There can be no justifiable reason for my desires,” you whispered, Aemond's brow furrowed in confusion as he sensed the shift in your tone. But when the next revelation slipped from your lips, it left him reeling with disbelief. “I once harbored unnatural feelings for my eldest brother.”

A surge of jealousy twisted in Aemond's chest at the mere thought of you harboring feelings for another. He cleared his throat, the taste of bile rising, and asked, "Did anything come of it?"

"A fleeting kiss—one I initiated. He loathed me for it thereafter," you murmured, your gaze falling to the ground in shame.

A grimace contorted Aemond’s features. "Loathed you?"

"He could scarcely bear to look upon me after that moment," you replied, your voice heavy with sorrow. Aemond felt a visceral urge to take vengeance upon your brother, to avenge the hurt he had caused you. "That was the moment I realized I had lost the only one who truly loved me."

"I recall you speaking of your mother’s grave," Aemond said softly.

You nodded, a glimmer of sorrow passing over your face. "She is gone," you said, and a bittersweet smile flickered briefly. "And I dare say, my family may be worse than yours."

Aemond shook his head with an amused glint dancing in his violet eye. “Impossible,” he replied, the word rolling off his tongue like the soft murmur of waves against the rocky shore. Then, in softer tones, he pressed, “Do you still harbor affections for your brother?”

“No,” you murmured, the admission barely escaping your lips, “Not anymore. Not for ages.”

Aemond studied your features, the interplay of moonlight illuminating the subtle lines of your face. A low chuckle escaped him, like the rustle of leaves in a breeze. Your brow furrowed, an indignant spark igniting within you. “What?"

“A mere infatuation does not alter the truth of my feelings, nor my perception of you,” he said with an air of certainty, the tension between you thickening as he took a step closer, almost as if the distance between your hearts diminished with every passing heartbeat.

“Then you must be a fool,” you whispered, breathless and yet emboldened, as his presence encroached upon you like the tide reclaiming the shore.

“A lovesick fool, indeed,” he replied, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a mere heartbeat away. The memory of your last kiss flared in your mind— so in that fleeting silence, Aemond’s voice lowered, almost reverent. “May I kiss you?”

He could see the tempest of emotions raging within you, wrestling against reason and desire, your heart at war with itself. Aemond, sensing your internal struggle, began to withdraw, the flicker of disappointment clouding his striking features, but in a sudden rush of bold resolve, you seized the collar of his embroidered doublet, drawing him close, your lips colliding in a swift, fervent embrace.

His breath hitched at the warmth of your touch, and he instinctively cupped your face, anchoring you both in this stolen moment as if the world around you had ceased to exist. Tentatively, his tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entry, a question hanging palpably in the air—one you answered with the soft, desperate parting of your mouth.

Aemond’s heart raced, a primal longing igniting within him as he explored the depths of your mouth, each caress of his tongue inviting a sweet sound of pleasure to escape from you—a sound that intoxicated him, filling the air with a heady blend of passion and unanswered yearnings.

In that dimly lit hallway of the Red Keep, time lost its meaning, turning to mere whispers around you. The world outside faded, and all that remained was the intoxicating exchange of breath and soul, each sweet caress a vow sealed in secrecy and yearning. But the moment was fleeting; the distant sound of approaching footsteps pulled you both back to reality.

Without hesitation, Aemond seized your hand, urgency painting his every movement as he pulled you into the sanctuary of your chambers. You could not stifle the startled gasp that escaped your lips at his haste. Before you could utter a word, his mouth found yours again, this time with a fervor that struck like wildfire. It was wild and fervent, a collision of passion tinged with desperation.

He broke the kiss, his breath mingling with yours, heavy and frantic. "I need you," he murmured, his gaze dark and intense, searching your face for any trace of doubt.

But all resolve melted away in the warmth of his presence, and you nodded quickly, breathless and eager. "Take me, Aemond."

Though reason whispered for him to temper his passion, to shield you from the storm he bore and not taint your innocence, the dragon's need screamed louder still. His lips found yours once more, his hands exploring the fabric of your gown, tracing the soft curves beneath the layers of silk and lace.

A soft whimper escaped your throat, the sound intoxicating him as it echoed in the chamber. You tugged at his doublet, your voice a barely contained plea, “Get this dress off me, Aemond.”

A wild grin spread across his features, the kind that promised mischief and fervor. “With pleasure,” he declared, the words a fervent vow rather than mere amusement. In a swift motion, he spun you around, deftly severing the laces that bound your dress. You gasped as the fine fabric slid away, pooling at your feet, leaving you clad only in a tantalizing shift that clung to your form like mist in the moonlight.

Without hesitation, Aemond gathered you into his arms, your surprised laughter ringing like bells in his ears as your legs instinctively locked around his waist. He carried you with ease, the weight of expectations and honor forgotten in that moment as he made his way to your bed.

He laid you down gently, his gaze a blend of fierce devotion and raw desire, like a dragon surveying its treasured hoard, and he leaned closer, whispering a question that weighed heavily on his mind. “Tell me, sweetling,” he began, his voice a low rasp, “are you still a maiden?”

You nodded, your wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The confirmation sent a bolt of need through him, further arousing him as he hastily shed his own garments, baring himself to you. He crawled over you, a predatory grace to his movements, and as you reached out to caress his face, he halted, your touch grounding him.

"I wish to see all of you, Aemond," you whispered.

His lips twitched with a mixture of hesitation and determination. With a deft movement, he removed his eye patch, exposing his scar and sapphire. In response to his bravery, you leaned forward, claiming his mouth once more, the warmth of your kiss wrapping around him like wildfire.

As his lips trailed away from yours, they descended to your neck—his warm breath sending shivers cascading down your spine. His hands roamed freely over your body, caressing and squeezing as if memorizing every curve. His fingers brushed against the hem of your shift, lifting the fabric with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment.

As his hand ventured beneath the fabric, his fingers brushed against the delicate curls of your mound, a low moan escaping your lips, raw and unbidden. "What treasure lies hidden here? Hmm?" he murmured against your skin, his voice low and intoxicating.

His smirk deepened as your hips instinctively lifted, surrendering to the ghostly touch of his fingertips gliding over your wet slit. In a moment of tantalizing tension, he withdrew slightly, seated back as he used two fingers to part your folds, exposing your glistening cunt to his keen gaze.

He was captivated by the sight—your essence glistening, beckoning him forth like a siren’s call across the sea. His breath hitched as he lowered himself, savoring the intoxicating scent that wafted from your cunt; it was a heady blend of desire and vulnerability. With a swift flick of his tongue, he brushed over the tender bud of pleasure, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips as your hips jerked in delightful shock.

Aemond’s dark laughter rumbled softly in his chest, a sound that resonated with satisfaction at your response. He ventured further, dipping into the folds of your drenched warmth, his tongue dancing along your slit as if tasting the sweetest of wines. Each movement of his mouth sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you, prompting your fingers to clutch at the silk sheets in desperate need of tethering.

You were ambrosia made flesh, a divine fruit of the gods that rendered him intoxicated with longing. He lost himself in the act, the rhythm of his tongue reflecting the primal hunger within him, driving him to worship at your altar without restraint or decorum. There was no pattern in his movements, merely the frantic need of a man raised in the crucible of ambition, now reduced to a ravenous beast by your taste.

His low moans vibrated against your skin as your fingers tangled in his silken hair, urging him closer, deeper. Each sound that escaped your lips heightened his fervor, sending him spiraling further into a haze of lust, where only the two of you existed.

He thrust his tongue deeper, igniting fires within you that threatened to consume all sense. A tremor raced through your body, a shuddering gasp escaping as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive peak. The intensity of the moment left him breathless with longing as he stole glances at your rapturous face, seeking the delight in your face as he skillfully coaxed you towards the precipice of ecstasy.

In one final surge of fervor, he took your pearl between his lips, sucking with fervent need. Your voice rang through the air, calling his name like a battle cry as your release washed over you, your body clenching and shuddering beneath his eager mouth, leaving him lost in the euphoria of your pleasure.

Spent and quaking, you fell back onto the sheets, your chest heaving, eyes fluttering shut as the final ripples of ecstasy coursed through you. Aemond watched you with an entranced intensity, his lustful gaze drinking in the sight of your debauchery, before he positioned himself between your thighs, claiming his rightful place.

With a swift, possessive motion, he grasped the neckline of your shift, ripping the fabric asunder with a growl that echoed his primal desire. The cool air met your flushed skin, and a fresh wave of longing washed over you, eliciting a soft moan as your hardened nipples strained against the chill. Aemond, unable to resist, descended upon you, drawing one of your peaks into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, relishing the way your whimpers filled the air. He felt your fingers weave into his silken hair, tugging him closer, urging him on with your breathless pleas.

He reveled in the contrast of your previously cool skin, now warming deliciously beneath him, the heat of your body igniting a primal fire within him. He pressed his hardness against your lower belly, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both. “I could be so good to you,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry as he nipped at your shoulder, “So fucking good. So why do you deny the need that lies between us?"

Your breath hitched, interrupted by a soft moan as he pressed against you with deliberate intent. “I do,” you gasped, desire flaring within you as his cock pressed against your pearl. “I do need you.”

“As I need you, sweet girl,” Aemond murmured, a predatory glint in his eye as he continued to grind against you. Though he was no man of debauchery, the fiery knowledge instilled by whispered secrets and that one fleeting encounter coursed through him.

You responded to his movements with an intoxicating sigh, rocking your hips to match his rhythm, a melody of desire unfolding between them. Aemond’s breath caught as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate thrust, he breached the sacred barrier that had kept the two of you at bay. A yelp escaped you, sharp and sweet, and he immediately softened, pressing featherlight kisses across your face, murmuring apologies as he reveled in your warmth.

Gripping your hip with a fierce intensity, he drew a sharp breath through his teeth as he buried himself deeper, engulfed in the sensations of your tight, welcoming embrace. You were exquisite—so wet, so warm, so perfectly crafted for him. Aemond began at a measured pace, savoring the glide of his cock within you, the exquisite stretch as you enveloped him, but the fire within quickly ignited into an unquenchable blaze.

Once he'd found a rhythm, he succumbed to the recklessness of desire, thrusting with urgency, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the chamber, a rhythmic drumbeat of passion. His hips snapped against yours with fervor, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure cascading through both of you, an unravelling of control as he sought to claim you in the way that dragons claim their territory.

Your moans echoed within the room, each sound a sweet melody, a heady mixture of fervor and abandon that filled the space with a primal energy. You had long since discarded any pretense of modesty, your voice rising like a songbird caught in a storm. His name spilled from your lips, fervent and loaded with longing.

With an urgency born from need, you surrendered yourself to him, your touch igniting a fire along his torso as your hands freely roamed, fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles. You clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his with reckless abandon. Your lips found the curve of his neck, the warmth of your breath a tempting promise. There was a strange thrill to your bite, and Aemond swore your teeth felt unusually sharp, as you nibbled delicately at his skin.

Yet even in the throes of ecstasy, an insatiable hunger gnawed at him, a need for greater possession. He withdrew slightly, capturing your gaze with his own smoldering gaze. His hand gripped the delicate expanse of your throat, sturdy yet tender, while his other found purchase on your stomach, fingers pressing into your soft skin. “You are mine,” he growled, the primal command taking on a life of its own as he increased the fervor of his thrusts. “Say it.”

The intensity of his possession ignited a fire within you; you instinctively pressed against his hand, urging him to hold you more tightly, to claim you wholly. “Yours,” you breathed, “all yours.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, the phrase rolling off his tongue like a hot brand onto your skin. Your body responded eagerly to his words, an electric shiver rippling through you as you arched your back, another desperate whimper escaping your lips.

It was not long before the dam broke, your body convulsing around him, the tension unfurling like the petals of a flower awakened by the sun. Your breath hitched in a final, breathless moan, and in that moment of exquisite surrender, you tightened your grip around him, pulling him deeper into the abyss of pleasure. And with a primal roar of ecstasy, he followed you into that dark, consuming void, painting your insides with his seed.

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @filmflux @esposadomd @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, your smile glimmered like the stars beyond the castle walls. Reaching out, you traced your fingers along his jaw, drawing him back into a kiss that spoke of unbridled passion and afterglow—a sigh of contentment escaping your lips as you two joined once more.

[nikonautic]

doodles of old pony ocs of mine, but redesigned ^_^

!! before anyone says cloudy prism looks like rainbow - they're not originally a pony oc though, just a pony version of my persona who sadly happens to have rainbow hair XD

[avocado-writing]

Some gentle cuddles with Astarion? Him learning to set boundaries and feel at home in his own body and Tav teaching him that intimacy doesn’t have to be sexual? Love you, thanks for opening requests

notes: what a sweet request! rating: T

pairing: astarion x reader

It’s night. Everyone is in bed, mostly sound asleep - the snores gently echoing across the camp confirm it (or not so gently, in Karlach’s case). If anyone is left awake they are keeping quietly to themselves. The only sound outside is the gentle rustling of leaves.

Astarion is in your tent, pressed up tightly against you.

Just a scant few weeks ago, the two of you would have been having sex. His body on top of yours, pinning you down, tongue tracing the pulse thrumming in your neck. He’d have been buried deep inside you, hitting that point which makes you see stars, bringing you to climax over and over. All to try and prove his worth to you, make himself indispensable.

To try and make sure you didn’t abandon him.

Of course, he now knows how foolish he was being. Well, not foolish, perhaps - you’ve spent many evenings reassuring him he is not to blame for his trauma, and you hold no animosity towards him for acting in a way he felt like he had to in order to survive. That you don’t need to have intercourse unless he’s comfortable with it. But, when you saw his face fall as he realised he had no idea how to be close to you otherwise, you’ve also spent those evenings letting him know that you do not need to have sex with him to be intimate. 

Intimacy with you is so, so much more. And it’s wonderful.

You’re lying out with your back up against your pile of pillows, book in one hand, the other buried in Astarion’s hair where he sprawls with his head resting on your stomach. He likes how it feels when you breathe. The slow rise and fall of your body reminds him of the handful of times he’s been on a ship; a gentle tide bobbing him along, feeling lullabied by the waves.

Before he met you this would have been an impossibility. Being so comfortable and off-guard with someone could have meant death. But then again, he thinks, as he presses his scalp into your fingers like a pampered cat, he’s never truly known love before. Someone who’d protect him against anything. Someone who has, and proved it time and time again. A person who cared so much not only to let him be his true self for the first time in two hundred years, but helped him track down and kill the bastard who stopped him doing so in the first place.

He must have tensed up, lost in his own thoughts, because you move the hand out of his hair and run it along his arm, linking your fingers in his. You raise his arm and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

“Are you alright, Starlight?” you ask. He smiles a little. He’s never had a nickname before, but now you’ve found one for him? He quite likes it.

“Yes, my sweet,” he sighs, and for the first time in as long as he can remember - it’s true.

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦.

— pairing; silver x ramshackle! reader

— summary; silver uses his unique magic to soothe you after you have a nightmare.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ What with all the house wardens over blotting one after another, and your growing anxiety to return home, it’s no wonder that you’ve been plagued with nightmares lately, ones that have you jolting awake in the middle of the night, heart racing, gripped with a lingering sense of dread.

❋ It’s the kind of exhaustion that even your friends notice, and Grim’s especially on edge because he misses the way you’d smile when you woke up and found him curled up next to you.

❋ Like many of your concerned friends, Silver’s seen the dark half-moons ringing your eyes, how your smiles are few and far in between these days. He wishes he could help somehow — and as he drifts off to sleep that night himself, his unique magic starts to work.

❋ When his eyes flicker open once more, he finds himself in your dream, surrounded by shadows and an eerie stillness. He's trapped inside one of your nightmares. Silver feels a pang of protectiveness and moves closer, his heart stirring as he sees you curled up, tense even in your sleep.

❋ He gently takes your hand, his presence calm and grounding in the storm of your nightmare. Quietly, he begins to hum a lullaby. It’s a melody he remembers Lilia singing to him when he was younger. His voice is soft, but steady, wrapping around you like a protective charm.

A warm cradle Starlight and joy My eyes are watching over you still, let’s be together With no fear, even if we wake from this dream Sleep, sleep, my beloved child In dreams, I pray you would be guided to walk toward the light

❋ His soothing lullaby fills your dreams, a serene contrast to the chaos of your nightmares. It brings you a sense of peace, and slowly, the nightmares fade away, replaced by a gentle warmth. You find yourself relaxing, the bitter tension in your body draining away.

❋ Though you don’t remember much of the dream when you wake up, there’s a strange peace in your heart and a vague feeling of warmth. It’s like someone was there to chase away the darkness, someone with a voice as soft as moonlight.

❋ Over the next few days, the lullaby sticks with you, and you catch yourself humming it absentmindedly as you move through the college hallways. But whenever you try to place it, it slips through your fingers like water, a memory from a far-off dream.

❋ “A warm cradle . . . something something. Mhmm mhmmm . . . Uh . . . I’m always watching you, together forever . . .”

❋ (Okay, so you might have butchered it just a bit.)

❋ Regardless, Malleus and Lilia overhear your singing and it makes them freeze.

❋ Lilia’s eyes are practically glowing. He knows that song; he used to sing to both Silver and Malleus when they were younger.

❋ Floating over (and scaring you witless in the process), Lilia gives you a knowing smile and asks playfully, “Now, where did you hear that song, dear? It’s an old favourite of mine.”

❋ You tilt your head thoughtfully, your brow furrowing as you try to recall. “I think . . . It was in a dream?” The words feel strangely fitting, almost poetic. “Once upon a dream . . .”

❋ Lilia chuckles softly, sharing a knowing grin with Malleus. He can already guess the truth – it wasn’t Malleus who sang that song, and it definitely wasn’t him. It could only be Silver.

❋ Lilia decides to keep his son’s secret for now. He’s sure that you’ll find out for yourself one day, but for now, he’s just enjoying seeing this young love play out.

[mysteryshoptls]

Episode 7-75 Meleanor's Lullaby

In the warmth of the cradle's embrace, soundly sleeps the pride and joy of starlight.

See, even now I'm still here beside you and your unwavering gaze. No need to fear, even if you wake from this dream.

Go to sleep, and sleep thee well, my lovely child

I hope that somehow in your slumbering dreams, you’re able to walk towards the warm and bright guiding light...

Requested by @kunoichi101.

[bookwormjust]

Cold night at Velaris (established relationship with Eris, first visit to Night Court as High Lady)

The transition had been swift and powerful, with Eris now sitting upon the throne as High Lord of the Autumn Court. By his side, you were High Lady, a role that came with its own weight of responsibilities and challenges. Together, you had forged new alliances, strengthening the Autumn Court’s influence, and today was the first time you’d be visiting the Night Court in this new position. 

Velaris, the City of Starlight, was beautiful—everything you had heard it to be and more. But as you stepped off the grand winnowing platform, the crisp night air immediately sent a shiver down your spine. The climate here was vastly different from the warmth of Autumn, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, leaving a chill in its wake. Despite your layers, the cold seemed to creep in, settling in your bones.

Eris, ever attuned to you, noticed the slight tremor in your hands as you wrapped your arms around yourself for warmth. His sharp amber eyes, always alert, softened with concern as he stepped closer. Without hesitation, his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body, laced with the flickering fire of his power, enveloped you almost immediately, the contrast between the chilly night and his heat sending a wave of comfort through you.

“Cold already, my love?” he murmured, his voice low and filled with the quiet affection he reserved only for you. His fire magic flared ever so slightly, enough to cast a warm glow around the two of you, subtle yet soothing. 

You leaned into him, grateful for the warmth he always provided. “I should have known the Night Court would be cooler than our Autumn air,” you said with a soft smile, resting your head against his shoulder as you let the heat from his body seep into yours. 

Eris chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll keep you warm,” he promised, his voice a low, protective rumble. “Always.”

The two of you made your way toward the grand hall where Feyre and Rhysand awaited, your mate never once leaving your side, his arm still wrapped protectively around you. The night was filled with starlight and the crisp scent of the sea, beautiful in its own way but foreign to you—so different from the golden leaves and fiery sunsets of Autumn. 

As you stepped inside, the warmth of the Night Court’s palace was a welcome reprieve from the biting cold outside, though Eris kept his magic at a low simmer, ensuring you remained comfortable. The halls were grand, dark stone and sparkling light creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. 

Feyre, the High Lady of the Night Court, and Rhysand, the High Lord, greeted you with warm smiles, welcoming you into their home. Feyre’s eyes flickered with understanding as she glanced at Eris’s protective stance beside you. “I hope the cold wasn’t too much of a shock,” she said kindly, offering a sympathetic smile.

You returned the smile, glancing up at Eris, who still hadn’t let go of you. “It was a bit unexpected, but Eris has made sure I’m warm enough,” you said, your voice soft but filled with warmth for your mate.

Rhysand smirked, his sharp eyes catching the subtle glow of heat around you. “Eris’s fire has always been unmatched.”

Eris inclined his head slightly, his usual arrogance tempered with politeness. “I wouldn’t let my High Lady freeze,” he said smoothly, his hand subtly tightening around your waist.

The evening went on smoothly, filled with discussions of alliances, court politics, and the recent shifts in power across Prythian. Despite the formality of the occasion, Eris never left your side for long, always checking in, his hand brushing your arm or back, sending small waves of warmth your way whenever he noticed the slightest chill.

As the night progressed, you found yourself outside once again, the cool breeze of the Night Court brushing against your skin. This time, Eris didn’t hesitate to summon a bit more of his fire, letting it flicker softly between you, casting a golden glow that contrasted with the silver starlight above. 

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft as he pulled you close, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smiled, leaning into him, your heart warmed as much as your body. “Much better,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the patterns on his coat. 

Eris gazed down at you, his amber eyes glowing with an intensity that only seemed to deepen the longer you were together. “The Night Court may have its stars,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet affection, “but you’re the only light I’ll ever need.”

You smiled up at him, warmth blooming in your chest. "I don't know what I’d do without your fire," you teased gently.

His lips quirked up into a smirk, though his eyes were full of love. “You’ll never have to find out.”

With a final look at the sparkling city of Velaris, you rested your head on Eris’s shoulder, feeling the heat of his magic keep you safe from the chill. You knew that no matter where you went—whether in the icy winters of the Winter Court or the cooler nights of the Night Court—Eris would always be there, his fire keeping you warm, just as his love did.