Aurora Fan Art Novels & Stories

………………… Aurora was in the garden, she was looking at something but she didn’t even know what, her mind was not working at all, those pictures of him doing with her body were continuously roaming into her brain. Aurora sat on the backyard of her room, her gaze fixed on the darkening sky overhead. Thick clouds loomed ominously, obscuring the twinkling stars that usually dotted the night sky. The air felt heavy with the promise of rain, and a chill wind swept through the deserted street, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms.

Just as I was about to fall to the ground with a squeak, I lost my balance on the chair and was saved by muscular arms. As the door opened halfway and a girl fell out from behind it, Alex, on the other hand, was frightened. "What was she doing here now? I thought I saw her yesterday night shading tears and she ran off when she saw me," he said, realizing that the girl was Aurora. She appears to be feeling better today," I mused to myself. She was closing her eyes as though she was bracing herself for the blow when she hit the floor. I was drawn to her lips and her immaculate skin.

Like she understood that today was sacred, even if she didn’t know why. When she was done, she handed me the crayon drawing: a picture of our family, holding hands in front of a sun. In the middle was a smaller figure in pink with a crown. “That’s her,” Miranda said. “That’s Aurora.” I didn’t trust my voice. I just nodded. --- Raymond set up the camera. Kendra had emailed over the official branding graphics with the summit’s logo. We printed one and taped it gently behind me—small, but symbolic.

🌹Aurora 🌹 I stood frozen at the threshold, the echo of Damien’s words still ringing in my ears—cold, possessive, unyielding. My heart hammered as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. The memory of his touch, the way his fingers had brushed my skin with a mix of tenderness and threat, was impossible to erase. I could still feel the ghost of his grip on my wrist and the heavy promise behind his whispered declaration: “You belong to me now, Aurora.”

She pauses, then adds, “And you owe me a new dress. It got ruined while I was dragging your fat bum.” Her timing is perfect. Ryan’s face stays blank, but I catch it. The corner of his mouth twitches. His eyes soften just a fraction. Amusement, carefully restrained. Aurora turns toward me then, like it is the most natural thing in the world. She extends her hand and threads her fingers through mine. “Hey, meet my…” She glances at Ryan and smiles. “Boyfriend. My mate. Lucas.” She looks at me when she says it. Really looks. Like she wants to see how it lands.

Author’s pov For the time being, Aurora has remained in her apartment, avoiding late nights and refraining from inviting anyone over. Usually, after 8 PM, she would lock her door, considering it her personal time to browse the internet or listen to music. However, this particular day was different. She lay on her bed, her hands still cradling her head despite the presence of a pink pillow. Thoughts swirled through her mind, and each powerful thought provoked a response—tightening of her lips, closing of her eyes, and a slow movement of her head.

A small moan escaped her lips, the sound echoing through the silence like a secret confession. The anticipation of seeing Luna again filled Aurora with a mix of excitement and anxiety. She knew that her friend had seen her in this state of undress before, but now, everything felt different. Now, Aurora was not just Damian’s plaything—she was his chosen mistress, a position that came with privileges and responsibilities she was still trying to navigate

Lightning flashed across the heavens, and thunder answered with a deafening roar that shook the very ground. Aria stood motionless amid the wreckage. Her hair, once soft and dark as midnight, had transformed into a luminous grayish white that glowed faintly, as if moonlight itself had been woven into every strand. Her eyes no longer appeared human; they burned with an intense white light. They were brilliant, ancient, beautiful, and utterly terrifying.

seemed different. Aurora stepped away from the mirror and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling her feet touch the cold floor. Her hair had been dyed since childhood. There were photos of her with every possible shade—dark brown, black, even red. Never white. Never natural. Aurora accepted it. Not without rebellion. But without choice. It was easier to hide than to explain what no one would understand. That morning, however, she felt light. But something inside her—that old feeling that never completely disappeared—warned her that the peace would not last.

The air buzzed with murmured conversations, clinking glassware, and perfume sweet enough to cling to the throat. Aurora darted ahead of me like a spark. She had chosen a pale lavender dress that brushed her knees, modest but elegant, the kind of thing a seventeen-year-old with far too much taste for her age would wear. Her dark hair had been smoothed into soft waves, and her eyes were bright with excitement as she scanned the displays. She paused at a marble bust, tilting her head critically. “It looks like it is judging me,” she whispered, then laughed. “I do not like it. Art should make you want to keep looking, not look away.”