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shadowdaddies · 4 months

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King's Queen

Dorian Havilliard x Reader

based on this ask

Summary: Dorian's mother makes her opinions on your relationship clear. You make your own opinions known. (angst → smut → fluff)

Warnings: smut below the cut, phantom hands/light bondage, minors dni

Wiping your hands nervously on the skirts of your dress, you gave Dorian’s mother a shy smile, reaching your hand towards hers to shake. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Georgina.”

Piercing green eyes appraised you, lip twisting disdainfully at your outstretched hand as her back straightened. She spoke in a delicate voice that betrayed the vitriol of her words. “How informal of you,” she noted glancing between you and Dorian. “I do still hold the title of Queen, if you were unaware. You may also refer to me as ‘Lady Havilliard’.”

With a flip of her long auburn hair, Georgina strolled towards her seat at the dining table, leaving you to awkwardly lower your hand to your side. Dorian quickly took your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he gave you a reassuring smile and guided you towards the table.

You took your seat, glancing down the table to where Georgina sat next to Dorian’s brother, Hollin, cutting his steak for him as the woman doted on her younger son, hardly sparing either you or Dorian a glance. After pushing around the mashed potatoes on your plate for an insufferable amount of time, you mustered the courage to try speaking to Georgina again.

With a deep breath, you plastered on a practiced, pleasant smile and turned towards where the queen sat. “Lady Havilliard, Dorian has told me that you quite enjoy the mountains. I’ve heard your home there is quite lovely - I can only imagine, if it holds a fraction of the beauty with which you’ve decorated this castle.”

Her cold gaze flicked to you, her own fork dropping to her plate with a clatter. “Yes, it is a lovely home,” she acknowledged before quickly turning back to Hollin. Lifting her wine glass to her lips, Georgina murmured so quietly that it was hardly detectable, even with your fae hearing. “Much nicer than a fae servant is accustomed to, I’m sure.” The insults continued, Georgina continuing her verbal assault as you struggled through the meal.

The effects of her words weighing heavier and heavier, your hand moved to Dorian’s thigh, squeezing for comfort. His sapphire eyes focused on you, hand moving to rub the back of yours in an assuring manner as you hurriedly finished your meal. Quietly bidding Georgina and Hollin a good night, you dashed out of the room as quickly as you could.

You moved at an exceptionally fast pace, stopping when Dorian grabbed your wrist, twirling you around to see his concerned gaze. Noting the barely held-in tears in your eyes, Dorian pulled you into the nearest room. Eagerly crossing the drawing room, you took a seat on the plush velvet sofa, burying your face in your hands.

Dorian crouched in front of you, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs. “My love, are you alright? I know my mother is unpleasant, and I am so sorry for that.”

You shook your head, leaning back against the seat as a wry chuckle left your lips. “It wasn’t only that she was so stiff and dismissive. You should have heard the things she said about me when she knew that you couldn’t hear. I am nothing but a fae servant, I only care for you for your title, I am not worthy of you.” Voice breaking at those last words, your shoulders shook as you began to cry into Dorian’s shoulder.

He held you for a long moment, letting you process your emotions before he placed a kiss to your head. “Are you going to be alright?” Sniffling, you nodded, and Dorian stood.

“I have something to take care of, but I will meet you in our bedroom,” he promised, giving a soft kiss to your lips before the both of you departed in different directions.

As you meandered back to your room, your head began to ache from all the tears you had spilled this evening. With a sigh of resignation, you turned back towards the kitchens in search of some water. The familiar shrill voice of Georgina Havilliard pricked your ears, and you rolled your eyes as you continued walking - until a deep, irritated voice rose louder.

Recognizing Dorian as the other person speaking, you quietly tiptoed towards the conversation, listening as you moved through the hallway. Rage boiled through you as you registered Georgina’s words coming from the cracked door up ahead. “I am not indifferent towards you, Dorian. I have given up on you. You are a consistent disappointment, and this common woman... pardon, fae - she spoke the word, dripping with disdain - is the perfect example of your poor choices. You are nothing as I hoped you would be.”

You could not bear to hear any more of her venom, nearly bursting the solid wood door off of its hinges as you burst into the room, halting Dorian and Georgina where they stood. Your eyes burned with fury as you turned towards the woman, barely maintaining the leash you held on your fae instincts which called on you to rip her to shreds.

Not bothering with pleasantries, you spoke in a voice you’d reserved for the worst of your enemies. “You may speak however you wish about me, but if I hear you belittle Dorian like that again, I will cut out your tongue. It is a miracle that your King is the exceptional man that he is, having come from you. It would be wise of you to recognize that.”

The air was heavy in the room, a long moment passing as Georgina shriveled under your intense gaze. With a sniffle, the woman raised her head, courageously lifting her green eyes to you as she spoke. “I will bear that in mind.”

With a smile, you nodded, once more wishing her a pleasant evening as you took Dorian’s hand and guided him out the door and towards your bedroom. Closing the door behind you, you turned to see Dorian’s sapphire eyes wide in shock as he stared at you. “Are you okay?” you whispered, becoming increasingly worried that you might have frightened him with your actions.

Dorian surprised you, his lips curving into a mischievous smile as he turned you around. Black hair hung in his eyes as Dorian towered over you, arms caging you in as he backed you against the wall. “That was the most spectacular... sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me,” he purred, leaning in as he dragged his nose up your neck.

His teeth found your earlobe, a moan leaving your lips as he tugged before moving back to your neck, slowly kissing his way down to your throat. “Dorian,” you whispered, arms wrapping around him as you begged his body closer to yours.

Dorian tsk’d at you, a wicked smirk gracing his lips as invisible hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. You were trapped against the wall, desperately writhing as you begged Dorian to come closer. Instead, he stepped away, stroking his chin as he admired you on display like a work of art.

Slowly, so slowly, Dorian walked back forwards, dragging one finger down your throat to your sternum, the peak of your breasts exposed in the gown you had donned for the evening. As if another set of hands worked behind you, the laces of the dress were undone, Dorian easily sliding the fabric off of you until it fell to the floor.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” he murmured, his hand still idly tracing your body as you panted under his teasing touch.

“Please, Dorian. Touch me,” you begged. Dorian let out a low groan, his eyes darkening as his control snapped. He surged forward, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck as he tilted your head to kiss you deeply, tongue thrusting and swiping along the roof of your mouth as his other hand moved lower down your stomach.

Arching your hips into his touch, you whimpered when his fingers ghosted over your soaked core before he pulled away. You gasped, your anger lasting only a moment before the shadow hands released you, Dorian throwing you over his shoulder.

Dorian landed a playful smack to your bare ass, earning a yelp from you before he tossed you onto the bed, shadow hands returning to spread your arms and legs for him. You huffed in frustration, your arousal nearly painful as you begged again. “Dorian, I need you inside me, please.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, Dorian leaned down, kissing his way up your thighs before settling to hover over your heat. “I promise to make love to you tonight, but first I intend to worship you, thoroughly, my Queen.”

The moan that left you at his words quickly turned to a gasp as Dorian gripped your thighs, sucking harshly on your clit before thrusting his tongue into your core. He groaned at the taste, moving to flick his tongue against your clit as he brought a finger to curl inside of you.

Back arching as much as the invisible restraints would allow, you reached your high with a scream that you wee certain echoed through the castle.

Dorian quickly rid himself of his pants, lining up his hard length at your entrance as you nodded, granting him permission to push in. Jaw dropping in a silent moan at the pleasure, you felt Dorian’s head fall against your shoulder as he settled fully inside of you.

Phantom hands vanished, allowing you to pull Dorian into a searing kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist as you encouraged him to move. He rocked into you slowly but precisely, intentionally hitting a perfect angle that dragged out both your pleasure. Overcome by the gentleness of the moment, you whispered “I love you,” through silver lined eyes.

Dorian kissed you fiercely, pulling back to press kisses on every part of your face, whispering “I love you”s with each touch. With a shudder, he finished inside of you, rolling to the side as he held you close.

You pushed the hair from Dorian’s eyes, admiring his beauty as you sighed in contentment. “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have a man like you in my life,” you murmured, snuggling into his warm chest.

Dorian wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close and pressed a kiss to your hair. “I am the lucky one, my love.”

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jeannineee · 8 months

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Hiii pls write some dorian fluff!! I swear there's like 5 dorian fics on this app 😭😭

Dramatic

Dorian Havilliard x Reader

a/n: requests are open!!

warnings: some suggestiveness at the end w Dorian’s invisible hands 😉, but that’s it

“That was the most ridiculous ending ever written,” Dorian muttered from behind you. His arms were wrapped around your waist, a book in his hand.

You laughed and tipped your head back, meeting his icy-blue eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I can’t believe I wasted two days of my life reading this book,” Dorian said, tossing it onto the end of the bed.

Another airy laugh escaped you as you turned to straddle him, and brushed your lips against his. “At least you spent the two days with me.”

“You’re the only thing that made them bearable.”

“So dramatic.”

“What was more dramatic was killing the main character at the end of the book.”

“I think it was poetic,” you murmured, twirling a finger through his dark locks of hair.

Dorian deadpanned. “It was poorly written.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright. Agree to disagree.”

Dorian gasped in mock-surprise, before grinning. “You’re not trying to be right for once?” He pressed a hand against your forehead, checking your temperature. “Are you unwell? Something must be off.”

You swatted his hand away, giggling. “Don’t be an ass.”

A light chuckle fell from his lips. “What? I’m nothing but nice to you.” He kissed you again, eyes darkening as he pulled away. “Except in certain…circumstances.”

Your heart fluttered, heat pooling in your core. “Oh? And what circumstances are those?”

“Circumstances you rather enjoy, if I’m remembering correctly,” Dorian mused, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your breath hitched as his invisible hands crept up your spine, one of them possessively wrapping around your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your exposed skin. “Perhaps I need a reminder.”

You could feel Dorian’s smirk against your skin as those invisible hands tightened their hold.

#throne of glass #tog #Dorian x reader #dorian havilliard #princeling #kingdom of ash #Dorian fluff #dorian havilliard x reader

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rowaelinsdaughter · 5 months

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Hii... Dorian x reader please? When Aelin and her court and Manon are in Adarlan and she feels insecure about them and doesn't want to meet them (maybe because she's just a human and thinks she's not good as them) so she makes excuses to stay in her room and Dorian finds out?

my present

a/n; thank u anon for this!!! hope youre okay. love u.

WARNINGS; insecurity, bad thoughts, angst(?) to fluff

you met dorian after the war.

the psychological wounds caused by this and by everything that happened before were still present, but it was no impediment for you since you took care of him and were with him in the moments where he needed someone the most.

of course, you knew that dorian was with manon, the queen of witches and one of the most beautiful women there was... although you had never seen her, just as you had never seen aelin ashryver galathynius, the queen of terrasen. but as dorian had told you, they were both among the most beautiful immortals there were... and they would be here in a week.

ever since dorian told you that manon and aelin and their court were going to come to adarlan, you couldn't stop thinking about how ridiculous you felt. anxiety and negative thoughts became recurrent throughout the week. you didn't want to meet them so as not to make dorian look ridiculous. if they really were as beautiful as they said and one of them was even with him... you didn't want to think about that.

different scenarios haunted you in dreams. them laughing at you, aelin's court looking at you up and down like you were a weirdo... dorian being ashamed of you after introducing you. that was your worst nightmare.

from your window you see how aelin's entourage arrived on horseback. she and rowan at the head and her court behind. god she was beautiful, more than you had imagined. a soft flutter reaches you and in the distance you see a shadow approaching... no, not a shadow. wyverns. getting closer and closer, you make out manon's white hair. when it lands, you feel your hands start to shake and a lump forms in your throat. people said they were beautiful, but it wasn't anywhere close. they were devastating. goddesses. you can't leave the room. you can't make a fool of yourself.

you hear a knock on the door and you turn in time to see dorian enter. his well-combed hair contrasts with the gold of his crown and his navy blue suit hugs every part of his body, creating a second skin. beautiful.

dorian smiles when he sees that you have been looking at him without blinking. “i already know I'm beautiful, you don't need to keep looking at me.”

you look away quickly and a blush appears on your cheeks. "sorry"

dorian frowns. “are you still not dressed? i thought you would be ready.”

“ah yes, I just don't feel very well”

dorian approaches you worried. "oh really? do you need me to call someone? do you need a healer to look at you?”

“no no no, don't worry dorian, i just have a headache.”

"sure?"

“yes dorian, i'm sure. go on, go with them.”

he leaves a kiss on your forehead and, not very convinced, leaves. you don't know when you've stopped breathing, but you let out a sigh and go to bed.

what you don't know is that dorian had noticed you strange ever since he said manon and aelin were coming, and this was what he needed to confirm what he suspected. you were insecure

the afternoon passed and you were still in the room. at that moment you were reading a book from your bookshelf.

the door opens and dorian appears with a dress in his hands, some shoes and a crown.

you swallow, putting the book aside to sit up.

“i brought you this so you can wear it.”

you open your mouth to answer but dorian takes your hand and brings it to his lips, sitting next to you on the bed.

“you don't have to lie to me, you know? and you don't have to stay here either. i love you, you know? you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen in my entire life. you don't have to have the best hair, you don't have to look like a goddess because i love you just the way you are. i adore your lips, your freckles, i adore the way your eyes shine every time you read a scene that you love. i adore the softness of your hands every time you hold my hand. i adore you just the way you are.”

dorian wipes a tear from your cheek as he caresses it and rests his hand on it.

“i don't want you to change, and i don't want you to think that i'm going to leave you alone because i was with manon. that's the past. and i want my present”

“what is your present?”

"my present is you"

you throw yourself into his arms and feel dorian's arms surround your figure. you hide your face in his neck breathing in his scent.

“and now i want you to get up, put on the dress i brought you and go out with your head held high.”

“i love you dorian.”

“i love you too, doll.”

#sarah j maas #sjm books #fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian fluff #dorian fanfic #dorian havilliard #tog fluff #tog x reader #angst to comfort #angst to fluff #throne of glass fic

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lemonspades · 24 days

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Cotla's orders no brooding everyone

< part 17 - part 19 >

Masterlink

Also me breaking down under the break over Impa in totk

Like okay I had a break down over Lady Impa while writing this story haha, the joys of actually exploring crossover aus and looking up to realize the colossal abyss you've dug yourself in

but like Impa

Baby girl... oh my god

Home girl lost her best friend and her family and her purpose to live all in one fucking night and for 100 years she watches her ward Zelda fighting this fucking monster and she can't do jack shit but wait for Link's ass to wake up but that doesn't mean this woman's gonna let shit go to waist no sir. and like yeah she's old but that's not gonna stop her and NO she is NOT going to use the weird rejuvenating serum that her fucking sister made because she can do it by herself thank you very much! (it's totally not because she'd be the younger sister again plus some sibling angst that's i've been thinking up an)

*cough cough* I mean whaaaaaat?

seriously though sound off in the bottom i found another sad old person to fixate over

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danikamariewrites · 20 days

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Could you please write Manorian x Reader where the reader has period cramps and the two of them stay and take care of her?

Lay With Me?

Manorian x reader

A/n: I have been dying to write Manorian so writing them being soft and comforting as my first fic for them has me kicking my feet giggling. Also i just got my period the other day so im projecting bc i need them 🥲🫠

Warnings: period pains, comfort

Waking up was a chore this morning. You did your best to hide your cramps from Manon and Dorian. Of course they acted like they believed you, but they saw right through your little act. You never liked making a big deal about feeling unwell.

Attempting to eat breakfast almost made you vomit. Instead of getting dressed you made your way to the private dining room in comfy sleep clothes, wrapped up in Dorian’s black fluffy robe. Taking a whiff of the eggs and bacon waiting for you on the table had your stomach churning. Pouring a cup of steaming coffee you make your way back to bed.

A wave of cramps hits you as you lay down, forcing you to curl up into a ball. Hoping the pain would exhaust you enough that would just fall asleep.

As you tossed and turned for all of twenty minutes before you gave up on sleep. Dragging yourself into the bathroom you searched the cabinets for a tonic to help the pain. Letting out a frustrated groan after finding nothing you slam the cabinet. Another wave of cramps hits you, bringing a new numbness to your legs.

You quickly wobble to Dorian’s office, knowing you won’t make it all the way down to the healers on your own. Quietly pushing the door open you shyly poke your head in. Before saying anything you watched Dorian work for a bit. Watching his arms flex as he wrote was doing something to you. Gods your hormones are all over the place.

Making your way into his office you plop down in the arm chair across from him at his desk. Curling up into a ball you give him your best doe eyed look along with a sweet pout. Dorian put down his pen, giving you a matching pout. “What’s wrong, darling?” “Will you go to the healers and get me more pain tonic? We’re out and my cramps are really bad.”

Dorian wasted no time in scooping you into his arms, snuggling you close to his chest. “Why didn’t you say something earlier, darling?” He carries you back to the bedroom, placing you down gently. Kissing your forehead he whispers that he’ll be right back.

A few minutes later Dorian comes back with a pouch full of tonics and Manon following holding what you scented is a bag of sweets. Sitting up you licked your lips as the chocolate reached your nose. Manon smirked at you as she dropped the bag on your lap. Dorian hands you one of the tonics kissing your head again.

Settling into bed you dig into your snacks expecting to be left alone. You let out a cute little yelp as Manon sits next to you, pulling you to,lay against her chest. You notice she’s wearing Dorian’s comfy clothes. As you curious look at Dorian you find he pulling on a pair of threadbare pants.

Climbing into bed he lays between your legs on his stomach as he massages your numb thighs. “We want to stay with you. You need us right now, not work. And besides we’re covered.” You snuggle further into Manon’s chest as Dorian’s magical fingers relax you. Your eyes flutter as the pain melts away.

“And, I had the kitchen prepare your favorite dinner which will be up in a few hours. For now just relax darling, we got you.” You run your fingers through his soft raven locks. “You guys are the best,” you hum out before drifting off.

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amara-moonlight · 3 months

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I found the fics i was looking for im unstoppable now muhaha 😈👹

anyway i might creat a list with all of them bc it was so annoying having to scroll down to find them

#bookblr #bookish #tog #acotar fluff #azriel x reader #dorian havilliard x reader #eris vanserra x reader #rhysand x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan x reader #thrown of glass #book quotes #acotar men #acotar #crescent city #thrown of glass fluff #thrown of glass x reader

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jewels-writes · 1 year

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Kissing His Scars (Arno Dorian x Reader)

Prompt: Kissing their scars and bruises Pairing: Arno Dorian x Reader Warnings: Healed scars

The soft golden light of the setting sun spilled into the room, casting a warm glow on the walls as I entered. My footsteps were quiet, muffled by the plush carpet beneath my feet. The scent of lavender filled the air, a soothing aroma that embraced the space.

As I rounded the corner, my eyes were drawn to the sight of Arno sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt discarded beside him. His strong, lean form was etched with scars and bruises, a testament to the battles he had fought, the sacrifices he had made.

A wave of tenderness washed over me, my heart aching at the sight of his battered body. With a gentle step, I approached him, my fingertips grazing his shoulder lightly. Arno turned to face me, his gaze meeting mine, a mix of weariness and strength reflected in his eyes.

Without a word, I knelt down before him, my hands trembling slightly as they reached for the first scar that adorned his chest. Each mark told a story, whispered of trials faced and triumphs won. I pressed my lips to the rugged terrain, a tender kiss that conveyed both admiration and empathy.

Arno's breath hitched, a vulnerable flicker passing through his gaze. He watched me intently, as if in awe of the gesture, his defenses crumbling with every touch of my lips against his skin.

Moving with slow reverence, I trailed my kisses along his collarbone, tracing the pathway of a battle wound. My lips danced over the faint lines, offering solace and comfort, as if I could somehow heal the pain of the past.

As I leaned in closer, my hands cradled his face, the pads of my thumbs sweeping over the fading bruises that marred his features. I pressed feather-light kisses to his brow, his cheekbones, each gentle touch a testament to my love and admiration for the man before me.

Time seemed to stand still as I poured my affection into every touch, every kiss. Arno's guard melted away, his gaze softening as he surrendered to the tenderness bestowed upon him.

In that intimate moment, the room was filled with a profound understanding. It was a silent promise that I would be there to ease his burdens, to heal not just his physical wounds, but the scars that ran deeper.

Finally, as I pressed one last kiss to his lips, a silent message passed between us. It was a vow to support one another, to embrace the battles yet to come, and to find solace in the healing power of love.

Arno's lips curled into a gentle smile, a flicker of gratitude and affection gracing his expression. He whispered, his voice filled with emotion, "Thank you, my love. Your touch, your kisses—they remind me that I'm not alone."

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wordsafterhours · 7 months

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Songs About You - Chapter 15

Author's Note: Buckle up and enjoy this fluff fest. I worked so long on getting this chapter right and I think it still fell short. But I just love this time of year. Fall and Winter are my bread and butter, especially Christmas. I'd like to live in a Hallmark movie and make zero apologies for it. In the next few updates, we will be seeing more explanation onto what happen to her parents, more details on Arobynn's betrayal, and Gavriel and Aedion's exile from Aelin's life.

*Unedited update. I couldn't wait.

Triggers: I can't think of anything crazy that would need to be listed

Word Count: 9.8k (I haven't written college papers this long)

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Still quite bemused with herself, Aelin dawdled through getting dressed and making her way down the stairs. Several familiar voices deep in conversation reached her ears long before she found them in the foyer, digging through dusty boxes.

“Does she have decorations for every occasion? I’m pretty sure I’ve looked through thirty boxes and only found one with Yulemas stuff,” complained Dorian.

“Her family was big on celebrating any and everything. It was magical coming here as a kid. Trust me, the Yulemas decorations far outnumber anything here three to one,” Elide stated matter-of-factly.

The dark-haired male dramatically whined and started opening another box. Aelin decided to take pity on him, “The items in question are in the basement and carriage house.”

“Oh, hey there. I didn’t realize you’d come down.” Elide’s cheeks tinged pink with her admission, clearly flustered at having been caught unaware.

The blonde said nothing, leaning casually against the wooden banister to her left, patiently waiting for anyone to divulge an explanation for the scene at hand. Elide dusted off her hands against her jeans and smiled tensely. “I’m sorry about last night. You were right to be upset and after you left, I was such a mess trying to figure out how I was going to apologize. A little birdy told me the house wasn’t decorated and I decided that it would be the best apology I could muster.”

Her friend bounced anxiously up and down while she talked, a telltale sign of how unsure she was of herself right now. Aelin knew it had taken a lot for Elide to show up uninvited, especially given how last night had gone, and in taking such a bold move to decorate the house. Yulemas wasn’t the same since her parents passing and even less so after exiling the only family she had left. Each year, as December fell, she longed to pull out the boxes, to put up trees and wrap garlands around the columns, yet it never came to fruition.

Chaol had tried it to snap her out of it, but after one too many meltdowns, he’d just stopped. He’d always get her a gift and then head south to Adarlan, to spend it with his father, Dorian, and Dorian’s family. It was easier that way. No fake smiles, pretend happiness, or unwanted melancholy chasing away the holiday joy.

If the very idea of this holiday hadn’t been artfully avoided, the decorations’ locations would be a forgotten memory, beyond her grasp. But her mind cruelly remembered what each and every box had, where it lived, and whose job it had been to put it up. Yulemas used to be the one thing worth waiting for as a kid. Not her birthday, summer, visits from Aedion, or traveling the continents—it was and had only ever been Yulemas.

As the air cooled and the calendar marked December 1st, her mother was hiring local city folk and paying bonuses to landscapers to help put up all the decorations. It was a grand affair and the week before Yulemas, her parents would open their finished home for tours. Hot cocoa, cider, and sweet treats were offered. Carols would be sung, and she would play piano for their guests. Aelin lived for it. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes in one of those memories.

A very sharp delivery of her name brought her out the reminiscent reverie. She took a startled step backward in attempt to gather her bearings. Elide was in arms distance now, looking concerned more than anything. “Are you okay?”

Was she? Simple answer: no. Would that be shared? Also, no.

“Only trying to process all of you here, digging through my house.” She internally winced at the tone, knowing its harshness wasn’t deserved, but too aggrieved to cop to it.

“I wish all my friends groveled like these two,” Fen casually declared between bites of toast.

“Sharing my bed wasn’t enough, you’re eating my food, too?”

“I worked up an appetite,” he whined, dark eyes giving her a pleading look that would rival Fleetfoot’s.

Graciously, no one chose to run with the blond’s comment, sparing her from further humiliation and or drawn-out explanation. At least the day was giving something back to her, small as it was.

“Who else is here?”

“We all are, well minus Lorcan. He’s being a pain in my ass, and we can leave it at that.”

She gave a non-committal acknowledgement, staring too hard at one of the boxes Dorian had previously been looking through. If she granted them the okay to pull out the Yulemas decorations, could she bear it? Would the joy of it overshadow the grief that was picking her a part, one stitch popping at a time, threatening the remaining seams that were left.

A presence came to rest behind her and she unconsciously gravitated back. His warmth radiated across her, momentarily chasing away the chill that had settled. Even as upset as she was with him, as betrayed as she felt—Rowan had become a much-needed life raft.

He shouldn’t be.

Couldn’t be.

But yet, he was. There were somethings this world knew that she didn’t, but what she did know, undoubtedly, down to her very marrow, was that Rowan Whitethorn had been the very thing missing from hers. “It’s okay to be scared and sad, Ace, but you have to stop limiting your happiness. Take it back. You deserve joy. Elide told me how much the season means to you and it’s almost over, but it doesn’t mean you can’t partake in it. We’re all here for you. Just say yes.”

His appeal was low, warmed breath washing over the exposed column of her neck, words meant to only be heard by her. Resigned, her shoulders sagged as she nodded in wordless acquiescence.

“This is going to be so exciting!” cheered Elide, clapping her hands together in paramount enthusiasm.

At least someone was thrilled. All Aelin could feel was a ten-pound leaded weight sitting in the pit of her stomach. It was cruel how emotions could rule, define, own. She’d do anything to turn it all off; to be cold and unfeeling, if only to get through this day.

Her blue eyes stared intently, roving over every oak plank not covered by the foyer rug. One, two, three… one-hundred and fifty-one. All visible ones accounted for and the heaviness humanely lessened. She was alone, the sounds of her friends muffled, but it was clear they had wasted no time tackling the decorations.

“Better?”

Her breath caught in surprise. Why Aelin had assumed she was truly alone was beyond her. If her thoughts hadn’t consumed her so, his presence would have been felt. A lie was forming on her tongue, but it tasted bitter, too bitter to bring to life. “Not really, but I think you already knew that.”

“Perhaps. Not that you give me benefit of the doubt often, but I don’t know everything.”

An unladylike snort sounded between them. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she hid her face. Rowan laughed loudly, chasing away her self-consciousness, and warming her to the core. It was such a beautiful sound, carefree and unbound.

“I heard they found the sitting room decorations and some aged sheet music. Dorian said you play. Can you show me?”

“Gods what a gossip queen,” she muttered with rolled eyes.

“I know I don’t know him well, but he doesn’t seem like a vault by any means.”

“He would spill everyones’ secrets for a good romp in the sheets.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Rowan acknowledged dryly.

Expectance hung in the air as Aelin waffled between telling Rowan no or sucking it up and playing. She hadn’t played in years. The piano was surely out of tune, the ivory keys covered in a telltale dust film. It was a talent, a habit long forgotten, buried beneath a barrage of painful memories.

The feel of smooth keys beneath her fingers could never be forgotten and suddenly hers were itching to glide across them. To artfully construct notes into beautiful chords and drown out the world until only music remained. Nothing else mattered when she sat at the bench. Maybe, just maybe, that was what she needed.

“Just one song.”

“Just one song,” he agreed. He sounded somewhat surprised, but Aelin wasn’t too sure since her back was still to him.

She brushed around the foyer table and pushed apart the dark wood pocket doors, revealing a beautiful brown piano, nestled in the far corner, between a window and fireplace. Without much thought, Aelin raised the lid, and then sat down, flipping back the cover, revealing ivory and gold keys.

The piano had been a gift from her parents one Yulemas, after she’d shown promise with the instrument. It had been redone just for her; the traditional black keys replaced with gold. After the finished stretching her hands, she played a few notes to ascertain how out of tune it was.

It wasn’t as much as the thought and a small, pleased smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. Out of her periphery, she watched Rowan’s large frame settle into one of the chairs that faced the piano. Her hands slightly trembled, the gravity of the moments to come setting her nervous system haywire.

Assuming proper position, Aelin moved to the edge of the bench with her back straight, arms out and relaxed in front of her. The opening chord notes tinkered through the air, harsher than they out to have been—her wrists were dropping. In the back of her mind, the severe chastisement of her former tutors reminded her that she wasn’t “grasping the keys”, thus her wrists were not lifting accordingly, the notes not soft.

Playing solely from memory, more than a few missteps occurred, but if Rowan noticed, he never gave it away. His green eyes were piercing, watching her with rapt attention. He could have been a stone statue if not for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders.

Moving to the next piece, her fingers glided across the keys, caressing them in near reverence, like one would caress a lover after long being separated. Tendrils of blond hair slipped forward, partially obscuring her view of the man sitting opposite her. The wisp of privacy came at the perfect time—the crescendo was up.

Furiously, her fingers danced upon ivory and gold with precision, the familiar ache settling into her hands and shoulders. Uncertainty, grief, life—it ceased to exist as Aelin gave all of herself to the keys. It wasn’t until the last beautiful note filled the air with a resounding resonance that she let herself breathe.

Silence, the cliché type where you could hear a pin drop, settled heavily across the room. Rowan was still sitting there, wordless, jaw resting against a balled fist, watching her with an undecipherable gaze. Had she not played as well as she thought? Was he trying to find the words to critique it? Critique her? Vulnerability and anxiety came on swift wings, like thieves in the night, whisking away her joy.

His opinion should not matter, especially under the circumstances now encompassing their friendship, but it did. Rowan’s opinion perhaps mattered more than anyone’s and she hated he had that power over her. It was power she gave him, but the heart was a fickle, stubborn thing, particularly the one housed beneath her own twelve pairs of ribs. It did not adhere to the principles of logic, not now, not ever.

The statue broke from his confines, leaning forward, bracing both elbows on his knees, hands steepled. He remained quiet, his gaze still just as studious as it had been the entirety of her playing. If he didn’t say something, Aelin’s nerves were going to split apart. Vulnerability was making her it’s entire three course meal.

His warm timber reached her ears, and she stood in anticipation before he’d even said two words. He gave a faint laugh. “I think your piano needs tuning.”

Six words have never been so defeating. The small kernel of joy that had roared to life instantly snuffed out, leaving as though it had never been there in the first place. The traitorous burn along her lower lids meant tears were welling up, preparing to fall down, like water from a broken dam. Aelin prayed to the gods for the floor to split open and swallow her whole; it would be a mercy compared to this.

Angered, she roughly wiped away the moisture, pinning the silver-haired man with her gold and turquoise stare. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just lied to my face. It took every ounce of will I could muster to sit down and play for you and the only comment you can make is antagonistic? You can be a real godsdamned asshole sometimes, Ro.”

His brow furrowed and he took a step back, hitting the chair causing it to squeak sharply in protest against the oak floor. There was just enough space for her to run by him and Aelin seized the opportunity. His warm hand encircled her left bicep, stopping her before she could get out of the sitting room completely.

“Aelin, stop.”

She fought against his hold, refusing to turn and face him. His pressure became a little firmer, not enough to hurt, but enough to cease almost all of the fight. Calloused fingers twirled the errant tendrils of hair along her face and neck, and as though he had done it a thousand times prior, he tucked the hair behind her ear, tracing the shell of her ear softly.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you. I didn’t know what to say. Everything that I was thinking just seemed so trivial and underwhelming. Inadequate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are moments in life that define who you are. Moments that break and remake you all in the same breath. Moments that will be written on your bones for others to see long after you’re dead. Moments that you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you could revisit them because nothing will ever be as sweet.”

He was whispering now, hushed, like he didn’t want any part of the world to hear him. Secrets and words were powerful currency. Both could be used at a moment’s notice to bring someone to their knees. Aelin had learned that with the death of her parents, Arobynn’s betrayal, Aedion’s strangled pleas as she shut the door on him. If you never gave words life or shared secrets—then they could never be used against you.

“You can’t keep cutting my legs out from underneath me to protect yourself.”

“Aelin, that wasn’t my intention at all. I thought you’d call me on my bullshit with some line about how the piano wasn’t out of tune or something.”

“I showed you my underbelly. I know you could tell I was nervous. Do you really think a joke was the appropriate response?”

He snorted. “Well, now I don’t.”

Exasperation zipped up her spine and she pulled hard against his hold. If he wanted to be a prick to someone, it wasn’t going to be her. Rowan adjusted his hold before slipping his other arm around her, holding her tight to his chest. She struggled but stopped when it became apparent he wasn’t going to let up. She didn’t have to see his handsome face to know he was wearing a smug smile as he rested his chin on her head.

“I think that if I could bottle up that moment, I’d never know another sorrow for the rest of my life.”

The confession had been unexpected and brutally honest. The vulnerability in his words was profoundly tangible. A feeling all too familiar. The tension left her body as Aelin relaxed into him, taking time to process what he had said before she responded. Words, they mattered, and while he wasn’t hers, it felt like right now he was. In another life, she could turn to him and capture his lips with her own in a silent conveyance of how she felt. They were two faces of the same coin, different, beautiful apart, but whole together.

But Hellas himself would have to drag that secret out of her. No acknowledgement meant no control. This life had enough influence on her; she couldn’t afford to give it anymore. So instead of saying and doing what she wanted, she offered him a small thank you that tasted rancid on her tongue.

He continued to hold her; his strong arms wrapped comfortably tight. His shirt had moved up his arms a bit, showing off tanned skin, and the whorls of his tattoo. Later, she promised herself, she would ask him what it all said and meant. A handful of the words were known to her, but the archaic language had fallen out of favor years before her time.

“Do you think we should help with the decorations?” his question vibrated across her back.

“Why should I help with my apology gift, defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

“Always with the smart mouth,” he declared with a pinch to her side.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“I mean if that’s what you want to call it.”

“You know what, you get to put up the 26ft tree up outside. By yourself.”

“You promise?”

He sounded too excited at the prospect. “Better yet, I’ll send Manon to help you.”

Rowan’s arms dropped from around her and he stepped into the doorway, wide-eyed.

“Snow leopard got your tongue?” Aelin’s smirk was threatening to split her face in two.

“I will take anyone else. She’s scary,” he fake whispered, looking over his shoulder while he said it.

“I know. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“I had another idea in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“I was thinking you could help me. I won’t make you do any heavy lifting, and you can insult me the entire time.”

“It’s not enough. What else?”

“What else?” he said slightly taken aback.

“Mhmm, what else?” She thoroughly enjoyed how panicked he looked as he wracked his brain to come up with something agreeable.

“I’ll bring you an entire chocolate hazelnut cake the next time I come by the shop.”

“But you’ve already brought me some before. Try again.”

He ran a hand through his hair, displacing some of the silver locks. Her eyes followed and it was then she knew what she wanted.

“You can let me braid your hair?”

He suspiciously sounded like he was choking before falling into a small coughing fit. Aelin had got him, satisfaction rolling through her.

“One time. This is a one-time deal because I fucked up a lot recently and I’d do just about anything to make you smile.

“Well, I chose wisely then. We better go drag tree out of the carriage house. And check on everyone else, because it’s too quiet and with Dorian around, that’s never a good thing.”

Rowan gestured towards the foyer, allowing her the chance to head first into the chaos.

Surprisingly, most of the upstairs had been decorated and the bannisters had been wrapped in garlands. When Rowan and Aelin had surveyed everyones’ work, both shared a look of guilt at not having helped. Connall and Vaughn had moved the big boxes for them and hadn’t been seen since. Rowan asked if they needed any other heavy lifting done, but Lys, Manon, and Elide waved them off.

Taking the back set of stairs down, they wandered into the kitchen, to find Vaughn flipping through several cookbooks laid out on the counters, writing things down on a scratch paper. “Do you have a zester?” he asked without looking up.

“I should, in one of those drawers. What are you doing?”

“Well, someone has to make Yulemas Eve dinner, Aelin,” he replied like it should have been glaringly obvious.

“I normally just have takeout and pretend the day doesn’t exist,” she admitted quietly.

“Aelin?”

“Yeah, Con?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but get out of the kitchen.”

She questioningly looked up at Rowan and mouthed, “Was it something I said?”

He jerked his head towards the back door and out they went. “He takes food very seriously. He loves to cook for everyone, and he eats pretty clean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat takeout. He’ll eat at restaurants but spends twenty minutes picking apart the menu before eating. Its rather cumbersome.”

“So, it was something I said,” she chuckled.

“Can you two shut up or go somewhere else?” a displeased, muffled voice asked. Both turned and noted Dorian happily smothered beneath two dogs on the porch swing. Rowan had brought Elliot. She smiled to herself—it was sweet he loved his dog the way she loved Fleetfoot.

“I thought you were helping with decorations, not sleeping your highness.”

“I was in the way and Fen said I was too whiny. Besides, Lorcan showed up looking angry and pushed me off the ladder. I wasn’t going to get into it with that guy. He’d eat me for breakfast or use me as snow leopard bait.”

“And to think you’re supposed to be taking over running Adarlan.”

“Well, when I take it over, I can order someone to deal with unpleasantries like that man. Or manual labor. You know I was built to supervise.”

People told Aelin she was dramatic, which she was. But somehow, she knew they’d find another adjective to describe her antics if they had to put up with Dorian. He was lovable, fiercely loyal, fun, a good listener, but nauseatingly theatrical without much effort or thought.

“If you change your mind and get tired of lying with the dogs, we’ll be out front putting up the tree.” Rowan looked like he was ready to bite through his lip to keep from laughing.

It took twenty minutes for them to pull out all the tree boxes from the carriage house and drag them into the front yard. Lorcan and Fen had offered to help but Rowan had politely declined, letting them know if they were needed, he’d get them.

Aelin could tell Rowan was really trying to make up for last night. He’d followed each direction she’d given him to the T and done so without terrorizing her in the process. He didn’t even laugh when she tripped over an errant tree root poking out of the ground and knocked over several boxes, spilling shiny ornaments everywhere.

The tree was halfway done, and she was fluffing the faux branches, waiting for him to return with ladders so they could put the rest up. Once it was put together, they could plug it in, and see what lights needed replacement before deciding on ornament placement. Her mom had always taken ornaments seriously and hung them all herself. It took hours sometimes because she’d take several breaks to step back and look, moving the glass balls accordingly until they were perfect.

Inside, there was a Christmas tree for every room except the bathrooms and kitchen. All differed in size or style, each with their own set of dedicated ornaments. Each Yulemas, Rhoe had gotten both her and her mom a new ornament to be hung on the tree of their choosing. Some were wooden, others blown glass, and on occasion, metal. It had been years, but pain ferociously nipped at the heels of nostalgia made it feel like this was the first Yulemas without them.

In a way it was. The holidays that had been celebrated with Aedion, Gavriel, and Arobynn, had been spent at the latter’s house. It was easier that way. She thought that Arobynn had been doing her a kindness but really it was just to ensure he could keep an eye on everyone. If all ends of the knot were in your hand, nothing could unravel, providing all the reassurance you needed.

Not wanting to be melancholy when Rowan came back, she sidelined her thoughts, returning back to fluffing the branches, doing her best to fill in any bare spots. It was tedious, often cramping her hands, but there was comfort in monotonous activity. Most of it was done, but one particular branch was proving to be a hindrance. A few colorful words escaped as she tipped forward, catching a mouthful of synthetic tree.

“Are you trying to tip the whole thing over?” he asked playfully.

“If that what it takes to get that last branch fluffed, then yes,” she replied stubbornly looking over her shoulder at him.

He tipped his head back, a full-bodied and carefree laugh sounding from him. He looked like the picture she’d been admiring on the bar wall—young and happy. She could only watch him, a smile of her own forming. Rowan was handsome; the most striking man she’d ever seen but nothing compared to this, and Aelin vowed to never let this memory go. He continued to laugh as he walked up and reached above her, righting the troublesome branch.

“Is that better?”

“Yes. If you could have been a minute sooner, I wouldn’t have taken branches to the face.”

“If my defense, the appropriate ladder was in the back of the carriage house, buried under stuff. And it’s heavy. I also stopped to talk to the guys.”

“Uh huh. I just hear excuses.”

A loud squeal escaped her as Rowan’s strong arms picked up and tipped her upside down while tickling her ribs. “Excuses, huh?”

“Ye—.” She tried to speak but he continued his assault, making it too hard to answer.

“What was that? I can understand you. Words, Aelin. Use your words.”

Every time she tried to talk; he tickled her again. Her stomach hurt from laughing and her head felt heavy from being upside down. If she was lucky, he was ticklish, too. She grabbed above his knee and squeezed—he jerked and almost dropped her.

She screamed in half in delight, half in panic. Was tickling him back worth the possibility of being dropped? It wasn’t that far to the ground, but it was far enough. Tickling him won out and she latched onto his knee, squeezing it.

“Hey, stop that!”

“You started it.”

“Don’t make me drop you.”

“I trust you not to.” She smiled deviously. He wouldn’t drop her now, not after she’d said that. The likelihood of him dropping her before was minute, but added reassurance wasn’t bad. She hadn’t counted on him starting to spin. His grip tightened and he spun and spun and spun. Her head was swimming when he stopped. He seemed completely unphased.

Aelin was about to tease him some more when she felt the familiar vibration of a phone. Hers was inside, which meant it was Rowan’s. As though she weighed nothing more than a feather, he continued to brace her body against his with one arm and used his newly freed one to dig in his pocket. His body stiffened as he looked at the screen. Flipping her upright, he set her down and took two steps back, answering the phone.

Eaves dropping was extremely rude, but he was still so close—it was hard not to hear every word of the exchange between them. His silver brow furrowed the longer the conversation continued, and he was intermittently pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Lyria was clearly upset that he hadn’t answered her previously calls or called her back. Then she brought up how he wasn’t “here”. Aelin didn’t know where “here” was, but she did know it wasn’t hanging out with his friends.

“I’m not going to do this with you right now. You’re jumping down my throat and I understand you’re upset, but this isn’t how I want to spend my holiday. I love you and I’m sorry I had a prior commitment. You knew this when you asked me last week.”

Prior commitment? The decorating was last minute, she knew from Elide’s tenuous confession and pleading this morning. So, what had Rowan given up to be here? The mother of his child was currently ripping him a new one, he’d ignored several phone calls, and still, he was in here, instead of doing whatever he was supposed to be doing.

She startled when he said her name. She had missed him hanging up with Lyria. His guarded green gaze met hers and held steady. He was waiting for to ask him what was going on. Most of it didn’t need to be asked about because she heard it, but against her better judgement, she had to ask two questions.

“Where were you supposed to be and why aren’t you with her?”

His angular jaw tensed just enough to let her know he was uncomfortable with what she had asked of him. His left hand clenched into a fist, the tanned skin of his forearm flexing the tattooed whorls. “I’m not with her because I didn’t want to be.”

“But she’s having your baby. And it’s Yulemas tomorrow.”

“Thank you for that astute observation, Aelin.”

“I just don’t understand,” she said plainly. Quietly.

“I was supposed to go to Doranelle early this morning, on a red eye, but I didn’t. She’s mad because I wouldn’t cancel it to go spend the holiday with her and her parents. I’ve spent every Yulemas with my cousins since my parents died.” She knew he’d lost his parents, but he’d never stated is so plainly. Truly, he had said more about himself in those three sentences as he had in as many months of friendship.

“Did you tell her you didn’t go?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And she’s livid you still didn’t go to her parents.” It should have been a question, but she said it as a statement instead. It was evident from the tense exchange just how upset the dark-haired woman was about his lack of attendance.

“Correct.”

It was apparent that any further explication on the subject was going to be like pulling teeth.

“Did you miss your plane?”

“No,” he answered flat and succinct.

“Did they ask you not to come?”

“Of course not. They were very upset when I called this morning and said I wasn’t coming.”

“Why didn’t you go?” she pushed. It was unfair he always knew what was going on in her head, soliciting more than what she wanted to comfortably give. She didn’t regret trying to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Don’t ask me that Aelin.”

While the please wasn’t audible, she knew it was implied, as was the reason he didn’t go.

Her.

His green eyes were still upon her, narrowing slightly, as he anticipated her next move. She wanted to call him on his unsaid truth. To prod and prod and prod until one of them snapped, the consequences be damned. But she didn’t. He’d shown her the smallest glimpse inside his walls. If her inquisition backfired, he’d never let her in again.

Trust took an irrational amount of time to foster and create but could be forced to ruination in seconds. She would not bring their friendship to the battlefield today. As hard as it was to sit on her hands, it was exactly what she did.

“I think if we don’t hurry up with the tree, it’ll be dark, and we’ll have missed Connall’s cooking.”

Rowan visibly relaxed, like one of the Staghorns had been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re probably right. Fenrys and Lorcan won’t hesitate to eat our food if we’re not there when Con deems its dinner time.”

The rest of the tree took around an hour to put together, Rowan of course doing all the heavy lifting, and much to his chagrin, some branch fluffing while Aelin directed him from the ground. After she had almost fallen off the ladder reaching to fix one of them, he had refused to let her back on, using his body to block her. She was secretly glad; it gave her a chance to watch him unencumbered. His muscled frame, despite being large, moved with graceful ease, keeping him steady 20 plus feet in the air.

Aelin had only seen a small glimpse of the finished decorations and was itching to get up from the dinner table to look, but her friends kept sending judgmental looks her way. Rowan had thought it would be more special to plug in the lights outside once dinner was over, so they could ring in Yulemas as a family—she’d been pouting ever since. The need for instant gratification was on the forefront of her brain.

Now that the decorations were up and finished, the joy she used to feel before her parents’ loss was coming to life, soon to be a roaring fire. Connall had said he was putting the finishing touches on several dishes and waiting for dessert to finish, before dinner would start. It felt like later would never come.

“Would you quit bouncing your leg like a little kid who has to pee?” Lys quietly said into her ear.

“I’m starving and no one will let me look at the decorations.”

“Yes because you got out voted and we’re doing it all together. Not any one person has seen it all.”

“Quit scolding me like a child,” whined Aelin, tipping her head back against the chair. On her left, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan’s mouth tip up in a lopsided grin as his gaze flicked away from Fenrys to her. Her pain was the night’s entertainment.

“You’re acting like a toddler right now,” Lysandra tried to sound stern but ended up laughing.

“Lysssssssss.”

“This is why you were an only child. Elide was she this insufferable growing up?”

“Worse. Between her and Aedion, it was constant ego, theatrics, and bad decisions. I’m pretty sure it’s why I ended up being an only child. My mom had to put up with them and then come home to me. I asked for a brother once and she started bringing me to play with them… I didn’t want one after that.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Elide,” Aelin declared indignantly.

The dark-haired woman remained silent, but raised a disbelieving eyebrow and stared her down. Aedion and Aelin had been menaces to her parents, Elide’s mother Marion, and Gavriel, but Elide had been their partner in crime too many times to count. Aelin would let the rest of the table believe Elide the angel she appeared to be, for now.

“Aelin, why don’t you go decorate the tree in your bedroom? I left a box with your name on it sitting on the bed. It was full of ornaments,” chimed in Manon as she walked in from the kitchen, a newly poured glass of red wine in hand.

“You found my tree?”

Manon snorted, the wine almost sloshing over the side of her glass when she did so. “It was hard to miss. Giant scrawl was all over the two boxes declaring it was your tree and the decorations that went with it. You guys really love Yulemas in this house.”

“Yeah we did,” she agreed, renewed nostalgia setting in. A heavy hand landed on her bouncing leg, giving her knee a brief, reassuring squeeze. Her blue eyes flicked over to Rowan’s, and he inclined his head towards the door, motioning for her to go.

She weaved out of the room and out the front dining room entrance, ending up at stairs closet to her room. Halfway up, a second set of footfalls joined in hers, and without turning, she knew it was Rowan. The outside tree and being present today, had been apology enough, but if he wanted to watch her agonize over perfect placement for her tree, then she’d let him.

The box on her bed was open, ratty cardboard flaps revealing some of her most prized possessions. Twenty-one years of her life could be found in this box. Every year, her father would present her mother and her with handpicked ornaments. It was tradition to open them on Yulemas Eve and then hang them on the tree at midnight.

Manon had set the tree to the right of her fireplace. It stood tall and naked in front of her bookshelf. Eagerly, she stuck her hand into the box of brightly colored tissue paper, pulling out a wrapped ball. Instant tears welled in her eyes as she unwrapped it. A flaming red heart sat nestled in her hand. It had been the last one her father had gotten for her and the most meaningful Yulemas gift she’d ever received.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the tissue paper, darkening it. Another one followed. She knew it was in here but hadn’t expected it to be the very first one out of the box. She could feel his presence heavy at her side, probably wondering she was looking at her hands like they held the world.

She sniffed, her runny nose making very unlady like noises, “My dad got my mom and I handmade ones every year. We’d open them the night before Yulemas and hang them on the tree at midnight, signifying the start of our favorite day of the year. This one, it was the last one he got me before they died.”

“Aelin, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s what they used to call me. Fireheart.”

“Very fitting.”

“Not anymore. I don’t even know that girl.”

“I do,” he said quietly before slipping it from her hands and hanging it on a branch towards the top.

Aelin wanted to argue with him, to tell him that the girl she used to be was just as dead as her parents. She had been a force, burning brightly—unapologetically herself. There wasn’t a mountain she couldn’t conquer. She had been someone who never needed anyone, who didn’t cry at the drop of a hat, and had never doubted herself.

Now, she was nothing but a field of ash, burned and unrecognizable.

He held out his hand, waiting for her to hand him another, and she did methodically until the box was empty. It was stunning, each placed just right. The tree could have been in a magazine, reminding her of the days when Evalin had spent hours adorning the trees to the same standard.

Rowan’s tall frame dropped to the floor, and he plugged in the tree, illuminating the room. The heart at the top had been strategically placed, backlit by a bulb, giving the illusion it was actually burning. He leaned into her legs, his head resting against her hip as they stared at the tree.

“Sometimes, we all just need a little light.” The statement was weighted and required no elaboration, clearly a nod to her earlier confession. She dropped her hand to his head, idly running her fingers through the loose, silver strands. He had taken his hair out of its bun earlier, in anticipation of her braiding it, but they had never gotten around to it. It would have to be done at a later date; he would not get off scot-free.

“Dinner!” a cacophony of loud voices rang out from somewhere beyond the walls of her bedroom. Hastily, the pair separated, several feet of distance now between them. Shame felt heavy in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Rowan, who was conveniently looking at books on the shelf nearest him.

It might not have been the embrace of lovers, but the moment had been just as intimate, if not more. He was spoken for, a father-in-the-making, and situations like this, shouldn’t be happening. Aelin was to Rowan as a moth was to a flame—inexplicably drawn, despite the promise of a tragic outcome.

Moving forward, she would have to religiously remind herself that traipsing the fine line between friends and something more was not in the best interest of anyone involved. Too many cards were in play, and she did not yet possess a winning hand. With one last look, she strolled out of the room and rushed down the stairs, eagerly returning to her earlier seat.

Elide gave her a questioning look when she sat down alone. She shrugged her shoulders, reaching for whatever dish was closest to her. Later, one of her friends would corner her, demanding answers about her quality time spent with the silver-haired male. They were all a bunch of gossips, yet, if she shoe were on the other foot, she’d be acting the same. Secrets were the glue that helped bind friendships together.

Con had out done himself. The table was laden with various dishes from one side to the other. There was no way she was going to be able to try it all. She plopped a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on the white and gold plate in front her and then followed it with carved pieces of turkey. A basket of rolls was making its way around but was rudely intercepted by Rowan’s big hand as he swiped one before sitting down.

“Looks like that was the last one, Aelin,” shared Dorian with a sympathetic look. He set the empty basket down and all she could do was stare at it, letting out a loud and dramatic sigh.

“There’s another batch baking. The rolls always go first,” called Con from the opposite end. It didn’t make it better. She had wanted one now. Instant gratification and all.

“Here,” he said warmly, his tattooed hand placing half a roll onto her plate. Melted butter glistened on the top and her ire softened, just slightly, at his gesture. Her turquoise eyes followed his hand’s retreat, a tingling, heavy sensation forming low in her stomach when he licked the butter from his fingers. Her thighs clenched together, a poor attempt at quelling the wayward response her body was having to such an innocuous act.

The gods were testing her. As if last night’s conversation or today’s Yulemas decorating had not been enough, now they were dangling a hot, hot man who she couldn’t touch right in front of her. Perhaps, she should attend Temple and pray to Kiva for atonement or to Lumas’, whose birthday was tomorrow… he was the God of Love afterall.

“I think we should go around and say one thing we’re grateful for or that we hope happens in the next year. Seems more fun than the traditional grace said at Holidays,” suggested Vaughn.

“Oh, I love this!” Dorian declared excitedly, dropping his napkin into his lap, and sitting up straight. His blue eyes were sparkling. “I’m grateful I’m spending this holiday with great friends.”

“That is so lame,” Manon declared dryly. Her unnaturally yellow eyes were pinned on Dorian, daring him refute her.

“It may be lame, but it’s true. I usually spend today and Yulemas with my family and Chaol. It’s nice to do something different with people who don’t tell me how much of a screw up I am. Or who don’t rant incessantly about mutual friends.” His gaze flicked to Aelin’s when he said the last part; apology was etched into his face.

“Well, we’re honored to be the better choice,” Fenrys said, raising his glass to Dorian before tipping it back. “I’m grateful for the beautiful life I get to live, and I hope this next year continues to bring good things to me and my.” Collective nods and smiles spread around the table.

“I’m grateful that Vaughn finally asked me out,” declared Conall with a grin so wide, it crinkled his eyes so much they almost looked shut. Vaughn leaned over, placing a sweet but chaste kiss against his lips.

“Me too, you’re the best part of my day.”

“Can we save some of the sweet for dessert? My teeth are rotting out just looking at you two.”

“She has to eat children for breakfast,” Dorian whispered, looking slightly frightened.

“I heard that,” Manon replied drolly. She took a large sip of wine from her glass, keeping the raven-haired male pinned with her glare. Aelin found it too amusing how much the woman liked to torture Dorian. He always acted as though at any second he was going to be disemboweled by her hands. Honestly, that seemed a little messy… she seemed the type to just snap someone’s neck and step over the body, unbothered.

“I’m grateful for the success of The Thirteenth.”

Lys coughed pointedly. Manon sighed, “I’m grateful for my friends. I guess you all are pretty cool.”

“Glad we rank somewhere in your life,” Lys laughed. “I’m grateful for Fleetfoot and I hope that by this time next year, I have something like Connall and Vaughn.” Despite being a top figure in the modeling world and successful in her own right, Lysandra had struggled in the romance department. It seemed to Aelin that most guys just saw a pretty face and became disinterested when they learned she actually had brains to accompany the beauty.

“I’m not doing this,” Lorcan vowed stone-faced.

“Yes you are,” argued Elide. Her dark eyes fiercely meeting his. A silent conversation passed between the pair, ending with the large, brooding male’s shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I’m grateful for my brothers and for ‘Lide.” He didn’t smile at his admission. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the dinner table.

Elide rested her head against Lorcan’s arm, smiling to herself. The appeal of their relationship was lost on Aelin. Lorcan seemed about as fun as running naked through thorn bushes or fighting a Ghost Leopard with only your bare hands.

“I’m grateful I twisted my ankle. I’ve never been glad to be clumsy until this year.”

There it was. Aelin had never actually asked Elide how she’d found Lorcan. Obviously, there were more details, but it seemed the angry man had a penchant for damsels in distress.

The table looked expectedly at her and Rowan, waiting for one of them to go. The food they’d plated was likely cold and the rolls were probably burning. It was worth it though, to hear all the sappy things that holidays brought to light.

“I’m fortunate to have irreplaceable friends and a proclivity for quality literature.” He didn’t bother to look at anyone else, his stormy green gaze focused on her. The conviction of his admission sent her heart skittering. A pink flush colored her cheeks, partly because it felt like he was stripping her bare and because there was an audience to his veil remark. The aforementioned line was growing finer by the minute.

Eager to redirect the focus of the table back to the task at hand, she didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m most grateful that I don’t have to sit alone at rock bottom. And for the grace you have all shown me as I try to find myself, again and again. Thank you for being the kindling that keeps my fire going.”

“Here, here,” cheered Fenrys loudly, his smile infectious. Aelin felt an answering one spread wide across her face. “Now let’s eat because there’s a whole lot of lights waiting for us.”

And eat they did; what started as a daunting amount of food, hardly seemed like it was going to be enough at the end. Aelin hadn’t kept company with men who could eat like that since her cousin and uncle. Every single one of them was fit, with hardly any body fat to their name, and likely their insatiable appetite stemmed from their active lifestyles. Dorian, for as high maintenance as he was, worked out several times a week. He blamed it on having an “image” to uphold.

Aelin was so uncomfortable, bloated like a fat tick, that she did not even have room to eat the chocolate hazelnut croissants sitting in front of her. Connall had found the recipe starred with a note declaring “Aelin’s favorite”. She’d probably have a good cry later after everyone left whilst eating one in the dark. Maybe if she was feeling terribly masochistic, she’d open the book, and run her fingers over the words written down. Would she feel the echoes of a mother’s love in the indented script? Would there be greasy fingerprints staining the pages? Would she hear the laughing chastisement of her dad as reminded her she had to wait for them to cool? What ghosts would creep in the dead of night?

“If I don’t walk around and digest this food, I’m simply going to perish right here.” Dorian was splayed out in his chair, looking pitiful, eyes pinched shut.

“Then get up. Your decomposing corpse will stain my floors.”

“Rude. You’d just let me rot right there?” he asked exasperated now staring at the floor.

Aelin shrugged, unabashed. “You’re too heavy for me to move.”

His eyes grew wide, hand flying to his chest in horror. “I know you did not just call me fat.”

“If you weren’t so vain, you wouldn’t have taken it like that.”

“That’s rich, the pot calling the kettle black.”

She laughed loudly, amusement sinking in. “I never said I wasn’t vain. Besides my dead body would be easier to move.”

“Again, with the fat jokes.”

“What cheerful Yulemas conversation: rotting bodies,” deadpanned Lorcan.

“You two are such children,” Lysandra observed. It sounded like she was trying to reprimand them, but the entertained look on her face said otherwise.

“He started it.”

“Aelin, stop,” Elide begged, dragging out the ‘p’ dramatically.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes, and closed her mouth, the rebuttal sadly dying on her tongue.

“Well, it’s almost midnight, so we better hurry through, so we can make it outside to plug the tree in when it’s officially midnight. Let the tour commence,” Elide sing-songed, clapping her hands together. One at a time, they filed out of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Both Fleetfoot and Eliot were asleep under the large Christmas tree that occupied one corner. The tree was decorated in only white ornaments, the clear lights slowly fading in and out, casting a warm glow throughout the room. It was so cliché, but perfect, nonetheless.

The exited the living room and made it back to the back stairs, the banister wrapped in frosted pine garlands with red bows. A small Christmas tree was nestled between the bathroom and closet doors. They followed Elide up the stairs, poking their heads in the decorated upstairs rooms, enjoying how each tree had its own theme.

Manon had decorated the front porch balcony, a beautiful tree in the middle, wreaths hung from the windows, and garlands with bright red, velvet bows decorated the columns. The downstairs porch carried the same décor, sans the tree. Both trees in the formal sitting room and piano room could be seen from the windows—perks of having 6ft windows in all the rooms.

They headed down the front set of stairs and took a moment to look closer at the trees in the sitting and piano room. The fireplaces were decorated with pine garlands with candied fruit slices strung along them instead of bows. It smelled liked mulled cider with a citrusy note. Aelin couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. She knew that Elide had been the mastermind behind the decorations and today. After all, she’d really been the only one around to know how it used to be, to know how much care Evalin had put into the whole craft.

Her eyes burned with unsaid emotion. Today had been exactly what she had needed. These decorations, these friends, these new memories… they helped lessen the ache that had griped her heart mercilessly tight for almost a decade. Grief had been holding her head under water for so long, it was difficult to know how to come up for air.

Her ribcage expanded as she pulled in a deep breath and then exhaling, enjoying how it didn’t quite feel so heavy anymore to do so. “Thank you. It seems so paltry a gesture compared to this—,” she gestured to their surroundings, “but it’s the best way I know how right now.”

“Seeing your eyes light up has been all the thanks I needed. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that,” Lys replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She relaxed her head against her friend, enjoying the peaceful silence that had befallen them.

“Hate to ruin the moment, but its 11:58, and there’s a tree that needs lighting.” Thank the gods Connall was paying attention.

Hastily, they bounded out the front door, off the porch, and out into the yard. The unlit tree towered high into the night, the top barely visible. They stood together, merriment and anticipation freely flowing. The tree flickered to life with an audible buzzing sound. Aelin squinted, her eyes attempting to adjust to the bright radiance. Her and Rowan had done an amazing job. The ornaments were visible, some almost looking like they were lit themselves, the bulbs glowing against them.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or even if it was. Truthfully, it felt like time was standing still—the moment felt infinite as they stood there, heads craned back, eyes wide with wonder. Yulemas, was a god’s birthday, but it was also a day of celebration and togetherness. A day for unbridled joy. An unspoken agreement with the universe that worries and troubles didn’t matter. No bad things could happen because just for one day, the gods hit pause on it all.

“Happy Yulemas.”

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Aelin was wrapped in her favorite blanket, sitting on the porch, still basking in the tree’s light. She had missed its presence more than she had known and now that it was up, the idea of leaving it to sleep, caused an ache in her chest. All of her friends, except one, had left hours ago. She didn’t know the exact time, but it late, the horizon staring to lighten just barely, signaling dawn wasn’t too far off.

It was supposed to snow, but the sky was clear, not a whisp of clouds in the sky. The air was heavy and still though, the smell of frost tickling her nose. Having a white Yulemas would be wonderous, especially with the house done up in spectacular fashion. It had been years since Orynth had been graced by snow on Lumas’ birthday.

“I have something for you.” His sleepy voice startled her. When she had last looked at him, he had been sleeping peacefully, Elliot curled into his side on the wooden bench.

Her gaze flicked over to him, noting that while she had been staring off, wishing for snow, he had sat up, folded his blanket, and pulled back his hair into a bun. She really needed to work on her observation skills, if only for self-preservation.

“It’s in the truck,” he said as he stood and extended a hand to her.

As content as she was wrapped up like a burrito, she uncurled herself, and slipped her hand into his. It was warm and calloused and much larger than her own. He didn’t let go even when she was to her feet and Aelin knew she should pull her hand back, but she didn’t. For just five minutes, it would be okay to pretend that there was nothing wrong with holding his hand. No lines were being blurred or crossed or ignored. He was just a guy and she was just a girl.

Elliot faithfully trotted behind them, stuck to Rowan like glue. Her own dog, had refused to come outside, choosing to lay in front of the fire. Fleetfoot was spoiled and it showed. They did say people often picked dogs like themselves.

Rowan opened the driver side door and dug around, only dropping her hand when he had to lean further across the bench seat. He stepped out of the door, allowing for Elliot to jump up into the truck—which caused her to deflate a little inside because it meant he was leaving. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading finally being alone or dreading him leaving.

He shut the door and leaned back against it. Holding is hand up between them, a small brown box with a gold bow sat on his open palm. When she didn’t immediately grab it, he stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. If she took even half a step, angled her head just so, their lips would be flush, and that was the only thing running through her brain.

When he spoke, his breath warmed her lips, “Are you going to open it, or do you have x-ray vision and haven’t told me?”

Embarrassment and shame coursed through her veins. Kissing him was the absolute last thing she should be contemplating. Her hand quickly relieved him of the package, and she took a step back, opening it. Reaching in, she hooked a green ribbon with her finger and pulled up.

Fleetfoot. A dog had been carved out of wood, collar, and everything, and stained to appear just like her own.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed quietly. A tear streaked down her right cheek.

Before she even registered him move, his hand was cupping her jaw, and he was swiping away the tear with his thumb. A small amount of pressure applied forced her to look at him. He stared intently at her, and she suddenly didn’t know how to breathe.

“I carved it from a piece of wood I cut that day you were at my house. I almost took my thumb off a few times. It was hard to get her just right.”

“It seems like it would be hard to whittle something with so much detail.”

Rowan opened his mouth a few times but said nothing. He seemed to be struggling internally with himself, his brow furrowing quite noticeably for it being so dark and hard to see features in any great detail. Frustrated with his silence, she huffed, “What?”

“When you told me about your Yulemas tradition earlier in your bedroom, I thought to myself how fortuitous it was that I had spent weeks on this thing for you. Out of all the things, I’d carved you something to be hung on a tree.” His hand slowly down her neck, his words barely above a whisper. The drag of his hot hand against her cooled flesh sent shivers down her spine, straight to core. Aelin’s self-control was fraying like a worn rope, soon too many fibers would break, and it would snap all together, ending with her doing something incredibly rash.

Sucking in a ragged breath, she dropped her gaze, and counted to ten, a pitiful attempt to ground her thoughts. His hand remained against her neck, the tip of his thumb grazing the straight plane of her jawbone. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing or the flushed heat of her skin against his open palm.

“I love my gift, Ro. I’ll hang it on my tree when I go inside.”

He suddenly pulled her close without hesitation, the end of her promise muffled by his muscled chest. Pine and snow deliciously filled her nose she tucked her face in a little tighter. She could feel his hands playing with the tips of her hair and the unmistakable press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.”

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Tag list:

@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

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shadowdaddies · 5 months

Note

Hey

Could I request something with Dorian and the reader is having difficulty with anxiety and he sort of just comforts her?

Thankssss

Hi! Of course💜 for me when my anxiety is bad, I usually try to distract myself so that's the route I went with here (also I used this as an excuse to put my dog's name into a story)

Distraction

Dorian x Reader

Warnings: anxiety/panic attack at the beginning

The splash of cold water on your face was enough to draw you back to your current surroundings, finally inhaling a deep - albeit shaky - breath. You couldn’t even recall what triggered the anxiety, a vortex of thoughts spiraling with every worry your mind could create.

The door to the bedroom opened, boots clicking against the hardwood floor as Dorian strode into the bathroom where you were hunched over the sink. Sapphire blue eyes searched your appearance - the fidgety hands tapping the counter, chest heaving, gaunt eyes on a paled face as the splashed water dripped down.

His gaze softened, lips thinning into a straight line as he recognized your anxious state, asking softly, “hey love, can I give you a hug?”

After another deep breath, you nodded, turning around as you wrapped your arms around Dorian’s waist, tucking your head into his chest. He held you snugly, the comforting pressure of his arms around you already easing your breath. You focused on the feel of his warm body, his scent of oud and cardamom, the soft beat of his heart.

He held you there for a long moment, before the restlessness took over once more, and you pulled away. Protectively wrapping your arms around your chest, you looked around anxiously. “I need something to do. I’ve just been stewing with my thoughts. Can we go somewhere?”

Dorian nodded, a bright smile lighting up his face. “I know exactly where to take you,” he said, reaching out a hand for you to hold. Twining your fingers in his, you allowed Dorian to lead you out of the castle and towards the stables.

Scrunching your nose at the smell of hay and manure, you coughed out your complaints. “Why are we here, Dor?”

Chuckling at your dramatics, Dorian just smirked as he pulled you into one of the stalls, where a stable boy crouched over one of his hounds. “Hi Simon,” Dorian greeted, drawing the attention of the boy. “If you want to take a break, I thought we could spend some time with the puppies for awhile.”

As Simon stood, nodding his thanks before he left the stall, you took in the sight of the newborn puppies snuggled into their mom’s side. “Oh my goodness,” you cooed, a soft whisper as you knelt down with the pups.

Dorian kneeled next to you, stroking the mother’s head as he watched you pet the tiny puppies. “They were just born this morning. I thought they might cheer you up.”

Your heart swelled as you watched the little animals stumbling around, tripping over each other to get closer to their mother’s warmth. Nodding, you let out a soft laugh as a particularly small black pup waddled over to you, nudging your hand. Carefully, you scooped it up, holding the sweet creature to your chest as it nuzzled in close.

“They don’t usually take to people so quickly,” Dorian whispered in awe. The two of you shared a soft smile, and he nodded at the pup. “You should name that one.”

As happiness bubbled up inside of you at the tenderness of the moment, you knew what name to give. “Joy.”

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reverii-library · 7 months

Text

▸ TAGS.

━━ ✰ by pairing.

# my : kaz brekker x reader

# my : aleksander morozova x reader

# my : sirius black x reader

# my : regulus black x reader

# my : tom riddle x reader

# my : cedric diggory x reader

# my : dorian gray x reader

━━ ✰ by type.

# my : requested

# my : angst

# my : fluff

# my : darkfics / yandere

# my : suggestive

# my : favorites

#my : tag guide #tag guide #tags #my : kaz brekker x reader #my : aleksander morozova x reader #my : sirius black x reader #my : regulus black x reader #my : tom riddle x reader #my : cedric diggory x reader #my : dorian gray x reader #my : requested #my : angst #my : fluff #my : darkfics / yandere #my : suggestive #my : favorites

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rowaelinsdaughter · 5 months

Note

Hello. Can you write for Dorian modern world? Please

always know what to say

author note; thank u so so much anon for requesting this!! i loved writing this, feel free to send more requests!! <333

WARNINGS; none just fluff

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

one thing you love about dorian is his messages. at any time of the day, you always have a message (or several) in your inbox. and today was no different.

you have been awake since 5 in the morning, unable to sleep because of the nerves of your job interview. it's the opportunity you've been waiting for since you graduated from college and you didn't want to waste it. dorian was traveling for work (more like his father sent him on a trip) and you miss him, a lot. he is the only one who manages to comfort you when you are nervous... like now.

mentally reviewing once again what you are going to say in the interview, you decide to make a relaxing tea. while you wait for the water to start boiling, your mobile screen turns on, notifying you of a new message. dorian's name appears on the screen and an involuntary smile appears on your lips.

princeling <3 nervous?? [nickname] of course i'm nervous, it's the opportunity i've been waiting for since i finished my degree. princeling <3 don't be nervous, you're going to do great. you had the best grade of your entire promotion, you more than anyone know what you are talking about. <3

you notice how your nerves calm down a little. how you wished dorian were here.

you finish your tea and go to get ready.

30 minutes later, you're waiting for someone to call you in. your leg doesn't stop going up and down and you try not to bite your nails. your phone vibrates once, twice, three, up to five times in a row. you turn on your phone and notice that the five messages are from dorian. you enter the chat and at that moment you don't know whether to laugh because you love him so much or cry for the same reason.

princeling <3 you're just so smart and perfect and beautiful how did i get so lucky i don't understand

you are about to answer when the office door opens and you hear your name. you take a deep breath and notice your nerves gradually gaining strength. i can do it, i can do it.

you loved dorian's messages, and even more so when he knew exactly what to say at all times.

#sarah j maas #sjm books #fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #tog x reader #tog fanfic #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian fanfic #dorian havilliard #dorian fluff #tog fluff #aelin galythinius #manon blackbeak #rowan whitethorn

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thequeenofnightmares · 18 days

Text

Dorian’s fingers drifted across her shoulder, then her collarbone. Her skin pebbled against the touch, her heart suddenly thundering so violently that she felt it in her ears.

He certainly wasn’t her first mortal lover. Plenty of men and women had lusted for her over her long, immortal lifetime. She’d been bloodthirsty enough to relish it once, to allow them into her bed to worship her beauty before she tore them apart with her iron nails.

But she realized now, as she met Dorian’s gaze, that she’d never really been seen by any lover before him. Had never been cherished in the way Dorian seemed to cherish every touch, every glance she’d spare him.

She realized she liked it.

She realized that while there had been many before him, there would be none after.

And she was no longer afraid of it.

Chapters 5 & 6 of my SJM multiverse fanfic are up on AO3!

#manorian #dorian x manon #manonblackbeak #manon blackbeak #manon x dorian #dorian havilliard #manon crochan #throneofglass #tog #throne of glass #fanfic #sjm fanfic #sjm universe #smut #fluff

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apus-neverstoplooking · 8 months

Text

Prompt: Gold, 389 words, @jegulus-microfic

*the quote that Regulus says to James if from ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ by Oscar Wilde*

James has had a long day. Regulus is aware of this the moment he looks up from the couch when James walks in the door of their flat.

He looks utterly defeated with his hair more tousled than normal, heavy eye bags, and a slouched posture. Regulus is prepared to burn whoever made his Jamie feel like this. They got to a place where James allows Regulus to see that side of him, the side that doesn’t smile all the time or bring that special ‘James Potter Energy ™️’ that people expect him to have. Regulus gets to see the side of James that isn’t okay, he’s the only one who gets that side.

James walks over and immediately falls into Regulus’s lap, wrapping his arms around his waist and attempting to burrow into his chest. Regulus simply cards a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp every so often. When James gets like this it’s best to just let him be until he’s ready to talk.

“Are you ready to talk about it mon amour?” Regulus asks after about 10 minutes.

James nods his head, but even then, it won’t be for another few minutes until James actually starts to speak. Regulus gave him the space to speak because sometimes James feels like his problems are less important and that people don’t want to hear about them, so Regulus always makes sure to remind him that he wants to talk about it without being pushy.

“Just work, it’s not even that big of a deal.” He mumbles from Regulus’s chests.

“Hey, hey, hey, if it’s important to you it’s important to me, regardless of what it is.

“I know.” James says after a moment, “I just feel like we’re not doing anything. I joined the ministry because I wanted to change things but we’re not changing anything. I’m not changing anything.

“Look at me me Jamie.” Regulus says gently.

James looks into Regulus gray eyes, his brown ones red-rimmed.

“The world is changed because you are made of Ivory and Gold.” He says each word intentionally, so James knows he means them.

James’s face is glowing; a smile that could light up galaxies.

“If I’m made of ivory and gold, then I think you’re made of ebony and silver.”

It’s oddly fitting for the sun and the stars.

#regulus black #jegulus #james potter #jegulus microfic #sunseeker #mauraders #regulus x james #jegulus fluff #they’re in love your honor #the picture of dorian gray #oscar wilde #James potter needs a hug #regulus black gives nice hugs #I feel like it’s normally the opposite so this was a nice change

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elvhenfaer · 1 year

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