Chaol: This is my wife Yrene, she’s a healer.
Dorian: This is my wife Manon Blackbeak-
Chaol: The White Demon?
Dorian: Actually, she’s Queen of the Witches now.
Manon: I’m a reverse healer.
Chaol:
Yrene:
Manon: You know, because I kill people.
Chaol: I-
Yrene: I like her.
Dorian: I know right?
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Legolas and Gimli at sea.
This illustration is my thanks to @sindar-princeling for putting together the Lord of the Rings Newsletter for us all. You've worked so hard, and it means so much to have finally been able to read the trilogy in a way I've never been able to before. Thank you for taking us on this journey!
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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.
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If Wyll manages to coax Halsin into a very simplified waltz (which is not at all an easy thing to do - Halsin insists he's not a very good dancer and he's not, Oak Father help him, but he's trying), Wyll's *over the moon about it* in that ridiculously eager and charming way of his, and insists it's alright that he doesn't know how, and that he'll take the lead. And Halsin, good natured and easy going, gladly lets him, even when they don't quite fit together, even when they can't quite manage the hand placement, with the warning that he cannot remember the last time he's danced with a partner - if he ever did - and he fears he'll trip right over him.
But Wyll smiles, squeezes his hand, and tells him not to worry; to trust him - to just keep his eyes on him, and they'll figure it all out.
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