#manorian x y/n

[throneofsapphics]

throne pet

poly!Manorian x f!Reader

summary: exhibitionsim with poly!manorian

warnings: reader is a sex worker, smut, light d/s dynamics, exhibitionism

word count: 1746

a/n: I hope you all enjoy! I loved writing this one

kinktober masterlist

​​Dorian Havilliard hired you for the night. 

You’d signed what felt like countless contracts, making sure to read each fine line and detail. Most of them involved not speaking of what happened throughout the ‘event.’ 

You could be trusted for your discretion, but the same couldn’t be said for the others and, you hated to say it, but your king hadn’t always made the best choices when it came to hiring. 

If you were being cocky, you’d say he could’ve consulted you, but it was uncomely to assume the King of Adarlan knew who you were. Knew who most of his subjects were. Although he certainly tried, parading through the city speaking with different business owners. 

However, nobody stopped by the business you worked at for a casual chat. Brothels generally weren’t made for talking. Word had it, his witch would be there as well, and if what you read in those papers a few weeks ago was true, you were to be playing with both of them. There was no reason to doubt the agreement you’d signed.

Either way, your name was on the list when you made your way to the castle gates, clothed in the garments he’d sent the night before, your own cloak covering them. You could hardly wear them out on the streets, not without causing some sort of massive scene. 

A chill snaked up your spine as you crossed the threshold to the castle, exhaling slowly and trying not to look too out of place. The instructions for your arrival, tucked inside the garment you currently wore, were rather vague. 

Meet inside the gates at quarter past seven, the guards will have your name. Someone will meet you there. 

-D.H. 

Thankfully, a servant found you immediately, greeted you with a smile before ushering you off towards a side entrance. 

You were given a room to ‘ready’ yourself however needed. The woman looked rather uncomfortable saying that, and told you’d be expected at eight o’clock sharp. 

As you spun slowly, you decided it was a rather beautiful room. Better than you expected, honestly. 

The three quarters of an hour passed quickly, and the same servant came to fetch you. You passed through unfamiliar halls, trying your best not to gawk at everything, but it was all so damn beautiful. It was hardly fair how quickly the woman was walking, barely giving you a chance to glance at some of the decorations hanging from the walls. 

-

Dorian caught a glimpse of you once, passing by your place of business. He knew, then, that not only did he want you, but Manon would as well as soon as she caught a glimpse. Well, to his best judgment he figured she would. 

Tonight, he was fulfilling a fantasy of hers, with your help. 

Some old habits died hard, or not at all, and he couldn’t resist throwing a party every once in a while – after the country had time to rebuild and settle, of course. He knew rumors spread around the city of them, but not a soul dared to confront him. He almost wished they would, just so he could see the reactions on their face when he told them it was the truth. 

He leaned back in his throne, fingers tapping on the arm, where Manon perched. She’d refused one of her own, preferring to share his. He understood it, they had limited time together. Part of the reason he wanted to give her this gift. 

The doors to the throne room opened, the servant ushered you inside before closing the doors gently behind you. Gracefully, although he saw the slight tremor in your fingers, you strode up the pathway, dropping into a low curtsey before both of them. 

A throne pet, just for the night. 

His bloodthirsty ironteeth witch leaned back and assessed you with a gaze too cool for golden eyes. He could feel her forming a judgment and he’d be lying if he said a bit of nerves didn’t spike through him with it. But Dorian knew her, he knew he’d chosen right with you. 

Manon’s shallow nod gave him an unexpected sense of relief. The show could go on. 

“If nobody has explained yet,” he knew they hadn’t, but part of him wanted to throw you off balance, “you’ll be playing the role of our throne pet for the night.” 

You frowned slightly. Maybe mentally running through the papers he’d had you read and sign? 

“We don't expect you to bark, meow, or wear a tail. I thought ‘pet’ would be a more pleasant word that ‘whore’ or ‘slut,’” Dorian clarified.

The vulgarity turned your cheeks beet red, but you nodded in understanding, a familiar hunger gleaming in your eyes. Maybe those were words you didn’t quite mind. 

-

Unable to resist, you ground back against Dorian as Manon approached. Even your human nose could scent her arousal. The witch didn’t notice, her eyes fixed firmly on you. Rather, on your pussy currently on display. 

Both legs thrown up over the side of the throne, you made quite the sight. 

The party and debauchery raged on around you, but you were well aware everyone in the room had at least one eye on you. Or on the scene playing out in front of them. You couldn’t blame them, you’d probably be watching as well. 

Right now, however, you were a prettily presented package for the Witch Queen, and gods you were in some kind of heaven. 

Manon ran an iron nail down the inside of your thigh. You shivered as she drifted over sensitive areas that, with one sharp flick of her wrist, could cut you open and spill your life out. It thrilled you. She didn't draw blood, instead built sensations along your inner thighs, supplementing each light scratch - that disappeared after a few seconds - with a press of her lips. They were surprisingly soft against your skin. Delicate, even, although you’d never have the courage to say that to her face. 

By the time she crouched, not knelt, before you, you were a squirming mess atop of her lover, his hands firmly gripping your thighs to keep them spread. 

Clothing had been lost nearly an hour ago, as soon as Dorian had decided he wanted to see all of their pet on display for them.

“How do you feel, pet?” Manon purred, voice bedroom ready with a slight rasp.

You whimpered. 

Dorian tutted behind you, “I think she asked you a question.” 

“Good, good, good,” you managed to chant, the only word that made sense. “Please,” you added. 

“If I want you to beg,” she lightly thwacked your inner thigh. “I’ll let you know.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip to keep more pleas from spilling. This wasn’t even like you, you’d never begged before but right now this female and male had you willing to fall to your knees for it. They’d teased you with gentle touches all night, the barest brushes of their skins against yours, as if they were waiting for this. For you, as a desperate and wiggling mess, ready to agree to any terms for release. 

Iron nails retracted, you held your breath. 

“Breathe,” Dorian chuckled in your ear, but you heard the hint of command. Slight embarrassment flushed through you, but Manon had either noticed and ignored, or not noticed at all. You’d bet money on the first option. 

At the first contact you gasped, inhaling deeply. Her fingers spread you open as she lowered her head closer. And stopped. 

Teeth ripped into your bottom lip to keep yourself from whining pathetically. 

She licked one long stripe up the center of your core, hands still spreading you widely. It was a good thing your King had a grip on you from behind, because your body writhed outside of your control, like you’d been possessed by pleasure. 

She repeated the action, twice, thrice, before pausing again. 

“She tastes delicious,” she told the king, and rose over you. Shifting to the side and twisting your head, you watched their tongues swirl together. As he tasted you on her. 

She lowered herself again, this time sucking your clit between her lips, flicking it lightly with her tongue. Talented. Manon Blackbeak was talented. 

Fingers pushed in, curling upward, your eyes rolled back, fingers gripping the King’s forearms with a death grip, nails probably biting in and committing some kind of crime. She sucked on your clit again, harder, pushing her fingers up against your front walls, and you fell over the edge. 

It hadn’t taken long, not with how they’d built you up the entire night, probably without knowing what they were doing. 

“My turn,” Dorian murmured into your ear. “If you’re ready,” 

Were you? For him, absolutely. 

“Yes,” you breathed, and were lifted on your feet. It took him seconds to maneuver you, bending you right over the side of the throne with an urgency you hadn’t seen from the man. Hands scrabbling for purchase, you gripped the opposite arm to keep yourself steady. You had a feeling that the attempt was useless. 

Dorian gripped one hip, you twisted over you shoulder to see his other hand wrapped around a beautiful cock, felt it notch at your entrance as he guided himself inside. 

Fuck. It felt incredible, having him inside of you, filling you up. 

His hips began moving and someone else, in front of you, caught your attention, tapping a finger on your lips. 

The Witch Queen. Momentary panic flooded you. Was she not alright with this? Were you about to lose your head? 

“I want to watch your face,” she murmured, “he feels good, doesn’t he?” 

You managed a nod. He moved faster, any words you might have said left you along with the ability to speak them. 

“You look like a dream,” she said in a matter-of-fact way that made you think she didn’t really believe it, but perhaps that’s just how she spoke. 

For several minutes, the King pounded into you, his hand eventually pressed against your lower back, and you dropped your hands to rest against the seat of the throne, arching your back for him, enjoying the moan that left his lips. 

As he pulled out, spilling himself all over your back, magic quickly cleaning it up, your body went limp against the throne, incapable of movement. 

“You’ll have to hire her again,” you heard the Queen tell the King as he scooped you into his arms.

kinktober taglist: @fourthwing4ever @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy @erencvlt @daycourtofficial @emidpsandia @thelov3lybookworm @hannzoaks @callsigns-haze @throneofsmut

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze @littlest-w01f

[danikamariewrites]

hello. Would you write for dark Dorian and reader? Please

Once Upon a Time

Dark!Dorian x reader

A/n: Ive been a sucker for Dorian lately I cannot stop thinking about him. I’m also loving @shadowdaddies dark!Manorian series rn, definitely go check it out.

Warnings: dark!dorian, manipulation

“There you are pet. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Dorian’s voice sent chills down your spine as you bask in the afternoon sun. The thrill he gives you after being together the last two years still brings a smile to your face. Like you’re being chased by him in your own home. You look up at him from your spot in the plush grass. The castle gardens are so beautiful this time of year, you can never resist spending your days out here when the weather finally turns.

Dorian sits next to you lightly kissing your forehead. A small blush creeps on to your cheeks as you softly respond, “Hi.” He smiles at you, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger Dorian tilts your head back a little so your eyes meet his sapphire ones. “What are you doing out here sweet girl? Shouldn’t you be wedding planning.” Your face falls. You’re not avoiding planning the most exciting day of your life. You just needed a break from how suffocating the dining room felt with all the flower samples, and napkin samples, and everything else that was carted into the palace for your approval.

“I just needed a moment to myself.” Dorian gives you a sympathetic pout before pulling you onto his lap so your back rested against his chest. “I know things like this can be stressful my love. I’m here if you want me more involved. Come find me next time and we can sit together, ok?” You nod against his strong chest, settling into his warm embrace.

It took a lot to earn Dorian’s trust just so you could come out and enjoy the gardens. While you are allowed to wander the castle on your own Dorian prefers to be with you when you find yourself outdoors. When he found you this time you could tell he was slightly panicked that you didn’t at least have a guard with you. Dorian was always afraid that you’d be taken from him or that you’d run. But you’d never do that. Dorian keeps you safe, you couldn’t imagine life without him.

“Before we go back can you tell me a story? I just want to stay out here for a bit longer.” A small chuckle leaves his full lips. “What story do you want sweet girl?” You think for a moment, “The one where you first saw me and then we met.” Dorian smiles at you as you stare up at him with this innocent doe eyes. “You got it.”

Dorian adjusts you so you’re in a more comfortable position cuddled up to him. “Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in Rifthold. She was the most beautiful girl the King of Adarlan had ever seen. He was absolutely enchanted by her. She’s so kind and sweet, how could he resist her? The king had to meet. One day he took a trip to her flower shop in the city. When they finally met he was so nervous to speak he couldn’t get a word out.

“She was just so smiley and bubbly he couldn’t interrupt her. When the king laid in bed that night all he could think of was the flower girl. Days and weeks went by where he watched the flower girl from afar. When the king finally learned her name it was all he could think of. Y/n. He kept repeating it, practicing saying it for the next time they met. Slowly but surely they fell for each other and the king couldn’t bear another day apart.

“The king watched his sweet y/n. A man walked into her shop and he ended up being belligerent and rude. The king couldn’t have that so he dealt with the man and brought his sweet y/n to the castle where she would be safe with the king forever.”

You remember that day. Gods you were terrified as you hid behind the counter and prayed for Dorian to save you. Everything had been a blur that evening and when you woke up the next morning you were in Dorian’s bed. All your stuff had been moved to the castle. You had tried to leave, something had felt wrong to you. But Dorian had insisted that you must stay until he deemed it safe for you to return home. Eventually you didn’t want to return home. You wanted to stay with Dorian and he was more than happy to have you stay with him.

You turn to straddle him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love that story.” You say softly. Dorian brings his hands up to hold your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “And I love you sweet girl.” He softly kisses your lips then your nose. “Let’s go back inside darling. We can do wedding planning together, hmm.” “Sounds perfect.” Dorian scoops you up in his arms heading back to the dining room.

He did everything to keep you from seeing his anger at the lack of guards in the garden. Barely any were by the gates. Dorian would be having words with Chaol about that. Gods forbid you ran and he couldn’t find you.

[highladyofterrasen7]

People who are going on my suicide note- sjm edition

Please note that this is satire and I’m not going to kill myself

Also, it’s the entire alphabet

A. People who hate rhys for how many houses he has

B. People who undermine what Mor went through (especially the Eris part)

C. People who praise Nesta for how she acted in acotar, acofas, and the beginning of acosf primarily

D. People who say it’s misogynistic to dislike Elain

E. People who came up with the “gwyn is a lightsinger” theory bc they realised their favourite ship is sinking.

F. Anyone who talks bad about my girl Feyre

G. People who say Cassian is abusive

H. People who say Rhys drugged and sa’d feyre utm

I. Anyone who says anything good about tampon

J. Quinlar deniers

K. People who say Danika was a terrible friend

L. Anyone who says Aedion’s reaction for the aelin-Lysandra secret wasn’t justified

M. People who in the same breath as attack rhys and cassian for keeping the mating bond a secret will praise aelin for doing the same

N. People who say Dorian isn’t the best tog man

O. Full and 100% chaol stans

P. That one person that said rowaelin aren’t allowed to dislike Lorcan and wrote a whole paragraph about it

Q. People who think acosf was the best book in the series

R. People who dislike acofas

S. Anyone who says anything bad about Sam

T. Anyone who is anti inner circle

U. People who ship lucien and tampon

V. People who attack fanartists for depicting utm rhys as pale when he’s literally described as pale

W. People who say manorian shouldn’t get a novella

X. Those weird people with their Eris and Nyx things

Y. People who say feyre is boring now (bc she had a baby)

Z. Anyone who uses there every breath to attack and find plot holes in sjms work (if you don’t like it, don’t read it) get a life

These are very me-specific opinions

Lmk which ones you strongly agree with

[throneofsapphics]

poly

POLY!ROWAELIN POLY!MANORIAN POLY!ELORCAN

single

AELIN ASTERIN MANON ELIDE ROWAN LORCAN GAVRIEL FENRYS DORIAN NEXT GEN

multi/mix n' match

MANON x READER x ASTERIN

think for yourself ↳ you did learn pretend* lifeline on the edge*

ASTERIN x READER x ELIDE

cinnamon

LORCAN/FENRYS/ROWAN x READER

the arrangement*

LORCAN x READER x FENRYS

track 32

AELINS COURT x READER

one more for the party

[throneofsapphics]

Hi can I request manorian x reader where she has a drinking problem and stopped but when she’s out with her friends they make her drink and it gets bad again :( manorian are frustrated, give me some angst and also then helping her

one day at a time

Manorian x Reader

Summary: “You knew they were next to you, one on each side, probably waiting for you to wake so they could talk, but the last thing you wanted was to face them. One drink, and all of your progress felt thrown out the window.”

Warnings: alcoholism, not great handling of alcoholism, minor injury/description of blood, some angst, hint of fluff 

Word Count: ~3.2k

A/N: thank you for the request

“Just one,” she grinned at you. 

The problem was one always led to another, on and on until you slowly stopped remembering why you didn’t drink. As she slid it towards you, across the table, you knew you were making a mistake, but kept trying to justify it to yourself. 

The disappointed look on your friend's face when you turned the first two drinks down. 

It’s not like you said you would never drink again. Just that you’d keep it under control.

You wouldn’t go home for a few hours, that’s plenty of time to come back sober. Like you’d said - you’d promised to come home sober. 

Earlier, you’d told them you’d likely be home … but you said likely. They wouldn’t worry. Maybe. The fear of their disappointment, of them seeing you like this, overrode any common sense. You weren’t thinking clearly. If you were, you’d know they’d rather you come home drunk off your ass than not at all. 

Not quite in your right mind, you decided to stay the night at a friends apartment. 

One thing you forgot; the guards, waiting quietly for you in the shadows. Discreet enough you rarely saw them, at least two or three were always there, especially after the threat on your life a few months ago. The reason you’d stopped drinking in the first place. Nobody knew you had a problem. 

-

They watched as you took drink after drink, waiting for you to leave so they could make sure you got home safe. Under orders to make sure you got to the castle, through one of the side gates, without attracting attention. 

“She’s got a high tolerance,” he said under his breath, the man next to him chuckling. You twirled and danced, finally waiting until last call. They knew just how much you’d downed, but you played it off well, appearing mildly tipsy. 

As you strode for the door, arm in arm with a friend - the one who’d funneled drinks to you all night, they rose to follow. 

-

Turning onto her street, the path away from the castle, you only made it a few paces before you were intercepted. 

Shit. 

You’d forgotten they had people tailing you at all times. Felix, and someone behind him you vaguely recognized, his name slipping from your mind. 

“Castle’s this way,” he jerked his chin, an amused smile on his lips, probably thinking you’d just made a wrong turn. 

“I can’t go home like this,” the words stumbled into each other, your cheeks flushed red with alcohol, jerking your arm out of your friends. 

“We have more wine at our place,” a vice-like grip curled around your upper arm. Alcohol numbed you enough you didn’t sense the pain right away. Felix had tensed, eyeing her warily. “Come on,” she coaxed, nails digging in harder, warm liquid pooling on your arm. When you didn’t move - she tugged - hard enough you let out a small cry, your shoulder straining - maybe even popping. 

Everything happened quickly, you were separated from her, a third person, a woman, appeared from the shadows, a flash of metal, you were shoved behind someone. Shielded. Murmurs over the wind - words indistinct but undeniably a threat. If your arm wasn’t hurting like a bitch maybe you’d feel pity. 

It was repeating again. You were too drunk to stop someone, hurting you. Last time you’d barely gotten away. Even though she was a friend, likely meaning no harm, just unaware of your own strength, the realization brought tears to your eyes, quickly hidden as your good arm threw your cloak over your face. 

The guards were good. Not a single passerby sensed anything was wrong. 

They stuck close to you as you headed through the back gate, half-aware of everything around you.

Declining a visit to the healers, just wanting to be with them, you made it to the end of the hall before Manon was shoving through the door, stalking towards you, Dorian behind her. 

You couldn’t - wouldn’t look at them, and tried to skirt around her. She wasn’t having it, stepping to the side to block you. 

Taking a breath, you prepared yourself for the lecture - for the disappointment, only for her to gently lift your arm, gold eyes peering at the spot where your friend had gripped. Blood - that was the warmth from earlier. Why Manon came out so quickly - she’d scented your blood. 

“It’s fine,” you murmured quietly. She lifted it again and you winced, some of the pain catching up to you, the walk had sobered you enough. A small strain that would heal in time. 

“What. Happened?” You could tell her temper was balancing on a paper thin edge. 

How could you begin to explain the shit show? Thankfully Dorian started guiding you back towards the room, giving you time to think. 

After you were seated on the couch, a cup of tea pressed into your hand, Dorian against your side, Manon pacing in front of the fireplace - looking murderous, he spoke. 

“Who did that to you?” You raised your brows, surprised he wasn’t asking about why you were drunk. “We’ll get to that later,” he read your expression, and your head dropped.

“Who was it?” Manon hissed, murderous rage flooding from her. You’d have to convince her not to gut the guards who brought you back here. 

“It was an accident.” You winced as Manon pressed a finger into the fingertip shaped bruises, silently calling your bullshit. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you tried. She didn’t look convinced. 

-

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Dorian sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You’d insisted you were fine, ready. He didn’t want to stop you, even though he had a bad feeling - hence the clear orders he gave to get you back. Maybe he should’ve told them to keep you from drinking, but that felt a bit too invasive - and he’d trusted you when you said you were ready. 

You were, for all he knew. There was something else missing - other answers he needed to get. 

“I need you to stay here with her,” he said quietly, to Manon, as you were getting ready for bed, the bathroom door wide open. She agreed - quicker than he thought he would. He was going to get answers. 

Felix, the guard who spent the most time watching you, was waiting at the end of the hall, as if he was expecting someone to come looking for answers. Dorian watched a hint of relief cross the man’s features - probably that it was him, not Manon. He couldn’t blame him, his witch was terrifying on a good day. He gave a detailed and precise report of the night’s events - down to each detail, and Dorian remembered exactly why he requested for him to guard you. 

Objectively, he knew they’d done everything right - but he was still pissed you’d ended up injured, blood drawn by one of your ‘friends.’ As for the identity of the friend, he decided Manon would have to get you to tell her yourself.  

“Thank you,” he said at the end, giving a polite nod as the guard bowed, taking his leave. Dorian pressed his forehead against the stone wall, letting the rough and cool surface center him. Anger would get nowhere tonight. He’d been so fucking proud of you, and the disappointment stung. 

-

The next morning, your head was pounding. One hand shielding your eyes from the sun, an audible groan left your lips. Hungover. 

Hungover. Drinking. You’d broken last night. Fuck. 

The self-loathing hit a moment later. You knew they were next to you, one on each side, probably waiting for you to wake so they could talk, but the last thing you wanted was to face them. One drink, and all of your progress felt thrown out the window. 

“Good morning,” Manon drawled, and you forced your eyes to blink open, your hand to move. Her expression was too neutral. An obvious sign of her holding in her anger. “Who hurt you?” She followed up. 

Hurt? There was a tinge in your shoulder. Vaguely, you remembered one of your friends gripping you, her nails digging in, the wet drop of blood against your skin. “It was an accident,” you said quickly. 

She pulled the sheets down, revealing the angry blue-purple bruises, small indents of fingernails, on your upper arm. Her finger traced over them, barely touching. “That is not an accident,” she hissed. 

“They didn’t mean it,” you tried. Manon raised one brow. “Please, don’t hurt them.” Before breakfast, and you were already resorting to begging to keep her from murder. “I’ll promise not to see them again, if you won’t hurt them.” 

Her nostrils flared. You watched her debate it, whether or not to satisfy her bloodlust and rage. Part of you was endeared by this, at her protective streak, but the other part was very, very worried about having blood and death on your hands. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “How do you feel?” 

The words felt like a trap, but you answered honestly. “Like shit.” 

“Good.” Ouch. She ran a hand down your arm, skipping over the bruised area, and gently squeezed your hand. Tender, coming from her. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” You tried to sit up, to catch her and maybe give her a kiss or hug, but with preternatural speed, she’d already left the room. 

A pathetic and small broken noise left you, and a sigh reminded you of Dorian’s presence. 

“She’s just on edge.” His voice indicated he, too, was on edge. 

You were still half-raised, staring at the door, when he slid closer to you. Close enough to feel his body heat, but not to touch. Self loathing and destructive thoughts filled you. Maybe they didn’t want to touch you, maybe they thought you were disgusted enough you’d be packing your bags, heading right out of the castle. Your shoulders caved, curling in on yourself, eyes squeezed to fight tears. 

Dorian’s hand rested lightly on your good shoulder. “We’ll talk later.” 

Then he left, and you felt your fears were confirmed. 

Forcing yourself out of bed, you brushed your teeth, washed your face, scrubbed your body near raw - trying to erase any vague scent of alcohol. You had the day off work, and knew they’d both be busy. Tying a towel around yourself, you clutched the clothes from last night in one hand. Without hesitation, you threw them in the fire. The less reminders, the better.

That night, you all had a private dinner in your shared rooms. 

“Why?” Dorian asked, and you could tell he was trying and failing to keep his tone neutral. That was worse - you wanted anger, maybe frustration, anything else. 

“I don’t know,” you fidgeted with the ring on your middle finger, the one they’d both given you - not an engagement ring, just a physical representation of your commitment to each other. “I thought I was ready, but … I wasn’t. I gave in.” 

You didn’t need to say what you gave into. It was obvious - the atmosphere, peer pressure, temptation. Glancing up, they both tried to hide it - Dorian more than Manon - but the disappointment was there and gods you hated yourself even more. Subconsciously, you began to slide the ring down your finger. Before it could reach your middle knuckle, Manon’s hand had clasped over your own. 

“Don’t,” she nearly snarled, lifting just enough to slide the ring back up, before retracting her hand quickly, like she couldn’t bear to touch you longer than necessary. At least they didn’t want to leave you. Yet, a voice in your mind whispered. 

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding. Any words might lead to tears. Dorian sent you a smile, but it was strained - forced. Didn’t they understand you hated yourself now? More disappointed and frustrated with yourself than they ever could be? Maybe, maybe not, but it wasn’t worth saying. Quickly gulping down the rest of your water, you excused yourself. 

Finding your favorite chair in the small personal library, closest to the fire, you tried to read, but your eyes scanned the same page at least ten times. Everything would be fine. It wouldn’t happen again, and … hopefully whatever divide came between the three of you would mend. 

-

Manon knew you were avoiding them. But, she’d always been under the impression that if someone needed help, they either had to ask or do it themselves. You’d come to them the first time, and she was waiting for you to do it again. At communal dinners, she watched how your eyes would waver towards the various bottles of wine or liquor, before averting quickly - as if they’d burn you for looking at them. Your hand would twitch if one got particularly close. Dorian had noticed too, and said nothing. Maybe that’s what you wanted? For them to pretend it never happened? 

As another week passed of your distance, she grew tired over it. Fine. If you wouldn’t ask for help, she’d go to you. 

Dorian would be out late, and she headed back to the rooms - knowing you’d already be settling in. 

Inside, she saw something that nearly made her blood boil. A bottle of wine sat on the coffee table, a small note attached to it. You sat on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, physically shaking - staring at it, a haunted look in your eyes. 

Slowly, she stalked towards you. No glasses, the bottle wasn’t open. Getting closer, she picked the bottle up, watching you from the corner of her eyes. You kept your gaze straight ahead, switching to the wall, pointedly avoiding her. At least you weren’t fleeing the room. 

Witch senses helped, and she could tell you only touched the note - not the bottle. 

“We’ve been missing you, come out of hiding soon! First round is on me.”

A female, one of your former friends, signed underneath it. She walked around the couch, placing the bottle out of view, before crouching in front of you, putting herself directly in your line of sight, forcing you to look at her. 

“I told them before,” your voice was just above a whisper, “that I’d stopped.” 

She noticed the blue-purple bags under your eyes, the pain in your eyes. 

“And they still pushed you?” Manon was fighting to keep her temper even as you nodded. “Not very good friends,” she commented. “You should’ve let me kill them.” 

A choked laugh left you, and she thought that was a fairly good sign. “I don’t need blood on my hands,” the corner of your lips tilted. A smile you were fighting rather than forcing, she liked that. Manon knew you liked how protective she could be, even if it irked her you rarely ‘let’ her act on it, not that she always asked for your permission. 

Still, it was about time she got to the point of this. “Do you need help?” 

The smile left, your arms tightened around your knees again. One small jerk of your chin. Manon raised a brow. “Yes,” you sighed. 

Years with you had taught Manon more of what human’s needed, liked, and granted these things grew on her as well. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, chuckling at how you quickly unwrapped and hugged her midsection instead, leaning your head into the space between her chest and shoulder. Before you and Dorian, she never thought she would’ve missed physical touch this much. But, as you not-so-discreetly moved close enough you were nearly on her lap, she realized she didn’t want to go another two weeks without this kind of closeness. 

-

Dorian spotted the bottle of wine tucked away on the kitchen counter first, his eyes widening in alarm. A closer look told him it was still closed, and a note was tied around it. The contents of said note pissed him off. That’s the last thing you need right now. Gazing over his shoulder, he saw Manon shooting him a warning glance. A keep fucking quiet, if he read it correctly. You were there too, curled up around her. 

How long had it been since he spotted the two of you like this? Too damn long. But … Manon had probably been with you for a few hours by now, he could justify interrupting. It was only fair to share. 

Striding across the room, lips curving into a wicked grin, Manon’s golden eyes narrowing into a glare, he sat heavier than necessary next to the two of you, one hand brushing over your knee. 

Your pretty eyes blinked open, small bags lining them. Had you not been sleeping well? He hated that he didn’t notice it before now. 

“Hello love,” he ran his hand up and down your thigh, in calm and soothing strokes. 

“Hello,” you murmured back. 

“Tired?” 

“No,” you yawned, covering your mouth. 

“Mhm,” he slid one arm under your knees, the other behind your shoulders, ignoring Manon’s snarl and carted you off towards bed. 

Manon stood in the doorway, silver hair gleaming, arms crossed. “I have a few reports to read,” she said gruffly. 

“Can’t you do that here?” He could tell you were trying to keep the whine from your voice. Manon’s eyes softened briefly. 

“The two of you are too distracting,” she spun on her heel, closing the door softly behind them, not giving either of you the chance for a snarky reply. 

“I can’t get you to myself for a while?” He teased. You blushed, and his fingers trailed over the heated areas as they turned a brighter shade of pink. 

“Of course you can,” you mumbled, hand running over the back of your neck. You wanted to talk - maybe not wanted, but needed. Dorian needed it as well, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do right now. “Are you mad at me?” You asked. 

Honestly, he reminded himself, and took in a steady breath. “I was at first,” he said cautiously. Resignation showed on your face, along with a glimmer of hope. He’d said at first. Wording was important, and he still treaded carefully. “But, I haven’t been in your … situation, so I can’t say I understand - or what I would have done.” He didn’t recognize the emotion that flashed in your eyes, but it didn’t look negative, so he continued. “I want to help you,” he gripped both of your hands, pressing a kiss to the ring he’d given you last year. “If you’ll let me.” 

Tears started to glimmer, lining your eyes. Maybe you’d wanted help this time, but been scared to ask for it, or were ashamed, or - Dorian reminded himself not to make assumptions.  

“I’d like your help,” you said quietly, blinking. His thumb brushed away the tears, and your head tilted. “Did you and Manon coordinate this?” 

It was his turn to blink. “No,” he shook his head. A pleased expression crossed your face. Apparently that’s what the two of you had spoken of earlier. “Did she ask if you wanted help?” A nod confirmed it. Subconsciously, his lips quirked up at the corners. Figures they'd both ask on the same day, and that Manon would beat him to it. "We'll take it one day at a time," he assured you.

"Thank you," you tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle another yawn and he figured now’s a good time to table the discussion. 

“We can talk more tomorrow.” 

You looked relieved, and nearly dragged him into bed.

[throneofsapphics]

I loved “our little witchling” so much 🥹 Both of them being so protective but especially Manon was so cute like Manon was immediately so attatched. Would you think about doing a part two with what happens during the birth? Like they were already worried about pregnancy being dangerous what if something goes wrong (but of course is alright in the end) and Manon just struggling because there’s no villain to kill, no one did this, things just happen. And their reactions to meeting the baby? I really love how you write angst and fluff!

helpless

Manorian x Reader

(part one) 

Summary: Reader has some birth complications 

Warnings: blood, angst, not proofread 

A/N: ah I’m so glad you liked it <3 thank you for the idea and request! you’re so kind. this can be read separate from part one!

Manon felt terror she hadn’t experienced in years. Not since … But your slowly paling face, the blood rushing from you, the healers swarming you. She wouldn’t let go of your hand, couldn’t. And snarled at everyone who tried to separate her from you. She couldn’t lose you - or this witchling, couldn’t. She wouldn’t let it happen. There’s nothing for her to destroy her, no revenge to be had, no enemy to destroy, and all she could do was have faith in the healers, and you. She’d never felt so helpless. 

Dorian’s hand covered her own, an arm wrapped around her shoulder, but she couldn’t look at him. Your hand was slowly growing limp in hers, and one of the healers let out a slew of curses - quickly silenced by another. 

She watched your breaths grow heavy, shaky, and slow. 

Please, she begged, please hold on. And sent prayers to the three-faced Goddess, to silba, to any god or goddess she could think of. 

-

Dorian couldn’t rip his eyes from you. His hand covered Manon’s, and his thumb brushed against the edge of your thumb. Cold, your skin was so cold. 

He glanced towards the edge of the bed, to the bloody sheets, and swallowed harshly before fixing his gaze on your face. 

His mind cycled through the books, everything he’d read… 

“The baby,” He whirled, taking the small form from the healer’s arms - who let her go without a fuss, and crouched next to you, holding her, the little witchling, against your chest. Manon took your arm, folding it over the small form. 

He brushed your hair away from your forehead - covered in sweat, before pressing a kiss to your brow. 

He watched as your fingers twitched, tightening around the form, before your eyes slowly blinked open. The baby was silent, watching you with wide eyes. A smile crossed your face, and Dorian let out a slow breath. 

“Y/n,” he called softly, but your attention didn’t leave the small child. 

-

“Hello little one,” you cooed. The world was fuzzy around you, but you saw the small baby in your arms. The little witchling. Sweet and wide eyed. She has Dorian’s nose, and you could’ve sworn a bit of gold flickered in her eyes. Maybe you were hallucinating. 

Something had gone wrong, that much you knew, and the buzz of healers around you and magic flowing into you told you that. 

You don’t know how long it took, but eventually you felt Manon’s hand atop yours, helping hold the baby still, Dorian’s hand gently stroking your forehead, pushing sweaty hair away from your face. 

You turned to them with a slightly dazed smile. “Hello.” Tears, tears lined Manon’s face and you frowned. “Nothing to cry over.” Manon choked back a sob, but squeezed your hand lightly. Her own tears, the sight over her upset, made a few fall down your own cheeks. 

Dorian’s thumb brushed them away. “Nothing to cry over,” he repeated your words and you let out a weak laugh.

[throneofsapphics]

what if you wrote a manorian x reader where she says something wrong in public, and giving them some attitude but as the day goes by, she thinks they’ll forget about it but then they are in private again and they definitely did NOT forget 🫦 (🌶️)

paying the price

Manorian x f!Reader

Warnings: d/s dynamics, spanking, fingering, smut, hint of fluff, minors dni ... almost pure smut honestly

A/N: thank you for the request! 

You’d snapped at them, several times. The first few, they brushed off - but you could sense their irritation growing. Irritation and curiosity - it was so at odds with your general demeanor. But, the gala and meetings put you on edge. Dealing with courtiers could do that to anyone. Manon, even. However, considering that’s usually her default she was excused. Not that she actually needed excusing. 

 Manon only raised a brow at you. Dorian’s lips curved at the edges, but it wasn’t one of his friendly smiles, one that promised something else would be heading towards you. You glanced at the clock. Three hours left of the ball, plenty of time for them to forget. Maybe you’d get lucky this time. 

After the last warning glare from Manon, you were on your best behavior. Smiling, all of the pleasantries, charming every courtier you could, not a single word, tone, or body language to hint any kind of displeasure. Gods, you really were pulling out all of the stops. 

And, as the night went on, and you had your final dance with Dorian - he didn’t act like anything was amiss, like he normally would if something was coming your way that night. Maybe you had gotten away with it. 

-

“Do you know what happens to brats?” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you said - pushing as much innocence into your voice as you could, keeping your shoulders relaxed as you busied yourself making tea. Maybe if you acted like nothing was wrong, it could be brushed under the rug. 

Every muscle in your body tensed as Dorian wound his fist through your hair, gripping lightly. Not tugging, not at the point of pain, but showing you a reminder of who exactly was in control. His breath warmed your neck, lips barely grazing over your ear, “they’re taught a lesson,” you whimpered as his body pressed into yours, the marble counter digging into your hips. “Unless, of course, they make an adequate apology.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” you protested, realizing a second too late that you were as good as admitting your guilt. Manon scoffed from across the room. His grip tightened in your hair, the beginning of pain twinging along your scalp. 

“Did you count?” Dorian asked her. 

“Seven.” 

Gods, you hadn’t realized it was that many. Dorian’s hand curved around your neck, gripping the front of your throat lightly as you swallowed. 

“Once or twice, maybe even three times you could’ve gotten away with,” he nipped where your dress slid to bare your shoulder. “But seven?” 

Your ears were accustomed to their movements, the intentions behind them, and sure enough you heard Manon stalk across the room, predatory intent coming from her in waves. “Seven too many,” she hissed. Neither of them were very forgiving, but Manon was worse. 

“You remember your safeword?” She asked. You gave a weak nod. “Say it.” 

“Chaol.” You were intoxicated when you came up with it, and despite your attempts - they refused to change it. Sure enough, Dorian chuckled behind you. The small smile curling at your lips faded quickly as he took a step back, releasing his grip on your throat, and you heard the sounds of his belt coming undone. 

A small curse under your breath, and Manon slid in front of you, dislodging your grip on the counter. She pushed you back, kicking your legs further apart, and gripping your upper arms, relieving some of the pressure of holding your own body up and left you half-bent over, still clothed. Dorian could’ve easily used his magic, but having Manon there told you he wanted both of them involved. 

“You’ll be a good girl and count, won’t you?” Dorian said, as Manon tightened her grip on your arms - apparently she didn’t believe so, and it only strengthened your resolve to prove her wrong. 

“Yes,” you breathed, and he knelt behind you, calloused hands running up your calves, the dress sliding up with them. Each movement was sensual, your entire body lighting up at just his touch, as he gathered the dress around your waist, pressing in on your lower back. Arching, you realized, arching your back so it wouldn’t fall. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, Manon humming in agreement. The tell tale whistle of a belt through the air, and you squealed as it hit, right beneath the curve of your ass. “Count,” he didn’t need to say or it’ll go up. 

“One,” your voice was steady. For now. You knew how to pace yourself. Another whistle, another strike - your ass this time. “Two,” you began to tremble, wetness pooling between your thighs, soaking the thin scrap of lace covering you. Each one you counted, voice and body shaking more and more as it went on, from pain or budding pleasure, you couldn’t tell. 

The last came, hitting between your thighs, your body jolted, dress starting to fall as you clenched your legs together, trapping the strap of leather between. Dorian laughed, passing it over your head. Manon released you to take it from him, and Dorian barely caught you as you crumbled. Burnt gold eyes met yours, never breaking your gaze as her tongue darted out, cleaning your arousal. 

Gods. You could orgasm just from that site, just from the way she watched you, eyes gleaming. Belt forgotten, tossed behind on the counter, she crossed the distance separating the two of you. Her mouth met yours, aggressive all-consuming, tongue sliding between your lips so you could taste yourself, Dorian barely holding you upright. She pulled back just as you began to struggle for breath. 

“That was your reward.” 

Barely, just fucking barely, you kept the whimper from escaping you. Dorian’s arm curled under your knees, the other resting behind your shoulders, and carted you off to the bathroom. 

A warm bath later, you laid face down on the bed as he rubbed some kind of ointment into the small welts left behind. You thanked the gods he hadn’t been using his full strength - otherwise you might’ve felt it as you sat for weeks. 

“Can you be quiet?” He murmured in your ear. You twisted your head to look at him, at the mischief dancing in his eyes, and nodded. Manon was in the sitting room, going over some correspondence from the Witch Kingdom. 

Two fingers ran up your folds, your teeth dug painfully into your bottom lip. He gathered the wet still between your thighs, swirling over your clit in firm motions - the ones he knew would finish you quickly. Dorian wasn’t wasting any time, and less then two minutes later your fists clenched the sheets, face pressed into the comforter to smother your moans and whimpers. 

Hands gripped your hips, turning you onto your back as he chuckled, tongue swirling around the two fingers he’d used. A soft smile crept onto your face as you melted into the bed, sighing in content. 

“Remember who’s the nice one,” he whispered - so low you almost missed it, but low enough immortal hearing couldn’t catch on. A secret for the two of you.

[throneofsapphics]

redecorating

Manorian x f!Reader

Summary: Day 11, Mirror with Manorain 

Warnings: smut, mirror sex, fingering, oral, minors dni!

kinktober masterlist

There’s something new in the room, something different about it but you can’t quite put your finger on it yet. All of the same furniture, and nothing seems too out of the ordinary. But, you’ve always had an eye for details and you’re able to pick it out within a minute. The mirror had been moved almost two feet to the left so it lined up at the end of your bed. 

Is Dorian vain enough that he wants to see himself first thing in the morning? You chuckle at the thought. 

“What’s so funny?” You hear the man himself from the doorway. You point at the mirror. 

“Really?” 

“What about it?” He asks mildly. 

“You need to see yourself first thing in the morning.” 

“There’s other uses for that.” You aren’t certain what those uses are, but his words hold some kind of promise and his voice grows lower, enough that your pulse flutters, and your cheeks redden.

“Do I get to find out what those uses are?” 

“Later.” He holds out a hand for you, and you cross the room to take it, letting him guide you out towards the dining hall. Dinner, you have to sit through dinner before you get your answers.  

-

“Watch yourself. If you stop looking, she stops.” Dorian leans against the doorway, watching the two of you. It’s enough of a threat your eyes don’t leave the mirror. You pestered him about the mirror during dinner, and he deflected all of your inquiries. Maybe the surprise was worth it.

You’re at the edge of the bed, your back flush with Manon’s chest and one leg thrown over her thigh. Her fingers languidly and teasingly move inside of you.  One hand wraps around your stomach, holding you firmly in place. Shadows circle your neck and glide over your nipples, drawing small whimpers out of your throat.

“Pathetic,” Manon’s lips graze your ear, her words somehow sounding affectionate.

Your orgasm builds, painfully slowly. You squirm in her lap, watching as she controls your pleasure.

Manon presses the heel of her palm into your clit, grinding against you as she continues fucking you with her fingers. Shadows slide down your front, brushing against your already hard nipples. So damn close, you’re painfully close and they know it. Manon’s fingers slide out of you and you whimper at the loss of contact, but she’s already moving, her arms wrapping around your chest instead. Large hands spread your thighs wide as … you hadn’t seen him move but Dorian is knelt between your legs now. 

His lips twitch up at the side as he slowly lowers his mouth, hovering just inches above you. He holds you down with his hands, even as your hips buck - trying to get closer to him, trying to get anything to release that damn pressure. He has an expectant look on your face, as if he is waiting for something. 

“Watch.” You hear Manon, one hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look at you’re reflection. Sweat is glimmering on your chest, your eyes half lidded with lust, chest heaving.

You can’t see Dorian’s face, but you know there’s a wicked and satisfied grin.

Finally, he moves. His mouth against you is pure bliss, lips sucking your clit, and it takes so much of your focus not to look down at him. You could only see his black hair, his strong hands spreading your shaking thighs, the firm curve of his ass, Manon’s hands palming your breasts as she twists and pinches your nipples. You let out a string of curses as his teeth graze over your clit, finally, fucking finally sending you over that edge. 

[throneofsapphics]

Can you do a manorian x reader where reader brings a pet she found with her and tries to hide it and they realize she’s hiding something and are trying to figure it out 😭

chosen

Manorian x Reader

Summary: You activated the universal cat distribution system. 

Warnings: mention of small injuries 

Word Count: ~1.2k 

A/N: this is definitely something I would do, thank you for the request!

Manon didn’t really like cats. She was always cautious of them, but she’d never come out and told you she hated them. Dorian, of course, was a dog person. 

A white kitten brushed against your ankle, weaving back and forth between your legs. You stood still, not wanting to step on it, you might break their foot if you do, considering how tiny it is. You crouched down, holding out your hand and gazed over it’s body. A female, with a small cut on her muzzle. Your heart absolutely broke. She rubbed her face against your hand, a small purr leaving her chest. 

You’d just been to the pier to grab some fried fish, and pulled off a small bit, offering it to the kitten. 

“Your mama’s going to come back for you,” you whispered, brushing one hand over its head and decided you’d come back to check in tomorrow. 

Meowing followed you down the rest of the street, and the next three corners you turned. Finally, you stopped, facing the small kitten with your hands on your hips. “I shouldn’t have given you that food.” She stood on her back legs, claws digging into your pants and trying to climb up your leg. You winced, and crouched down, picking her up instead. You noticed the small orange rings circling the tops of her ears. You carefully balanced her in your arms and headed back to the castle, deciding not to think of it too much. She’d chosen you, after all, and you couldn’t abandon her to the world, anything could get her. 

You made your way through the castle halls, weaving down servants' passageways and managed to avoid any other living beings, a small miracle. Your fist knocked against the heavy oak wood of the healer’s rooms. One of your closest friends was a healer in the castle, and if anyone could help you keep a secret, it was her. 

Luck was on your side, because she answered the door. 

“What did you do?” Her eyes went wide, voice laced with amusement. She reached out and carefully ran her finger over the kitten’s head. She was asleep in your arms, and stayed asleep even as she pet her. 

“I need your help,” you whispered, eyes constantly scanning the halls. “I need to hide her, for a while. And to get supplies.” What do you get for a cat? You’ve always had dogs, and were out of your depth. 

She hummed, but didn’t question you. “Lucky for you, I grew up with cats. Do you have a name for her?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head.  

She healed her and helped you get her cleaned up. Small scratches littered your hands from the bath but you didn’t mind, she healed those too - laughing at you, of course. But, you needed to hide all of the evidence for now and made a mental note to change your clothes.

An hour later, Tipsy was carefully concealed in a cozy abandoned room. 

“Why do you smell like cats?” Manon questioned later that night. You should have taken a bath. 

“I stopped to pet some.” 

“I hope you don’t have fleas,” Dorian teased. You flipped him off, and he laughed. 

-

You’d been disappearing at strange times, frequently gone every other hour or so during the day, returning an hour later with a giddy smile on your face. Of course, Dorian loved to see you happy but he couldn’t figure out where the hell you went and you always brushed him off, deflecting his questions. Manon didn’t seem too disturbed by it, only mentioning the cat smell seemed to be lingering. Maybe you’d been back out into the city to feed them. He wouldn’t be too surprised if you had, but he didn’t need a small army of cats following you across castle grounds. 

But after ten days, Manon started to get suspicious as well. She said you never smelt like other males or females, and he knew you wouldn’t do that anyway but he was still wary. Dorian wanted to respected your privacy but he hated secrets. They decided to tail you that night. 

They left ten minutes after you, and Manon tracked your scent through the castle. 

“Where the hell is she going?” He muttered as the witch led him down hallways and through scarcely known passageways to an abandoned set of rooms. Those hadn’t been used in years. 

He heard your laugh, and voice. “Tipsy,” you tutted, as if you were telling someone off. Who the hell was Tipsy? And what kind of name was that? “Get out of my hair.” 

Manon caught his eye and they approached the room on silent feet. 

-

Suddenly, Tipsy crouched in front of you, hackles raised and started hissing at the door. You grabbed her in your arms and carefully rose to your feet. The door creaked open, revealing Manon and Dorian standing right outside. Their eyes were wide as they took in the little creature in your arms. 

“Surprise,” you said weakly, but you’d stiffened. If they tried to take her away from you, you’d put your foot down. Ten days and you already loved her beyond reason. 

“Tipsy? That’s a horrible name.” Dorian commented, striding closer towards you. The cat hissed at him, and he took a step back. Maybe she could smell his dogs on him. 

Manon scoffed and approached as well. Tipsy tilted her head, taking in the witch with surprising intensity. Manon reached her hand out, thankfully no iron nails, and the cat didn’t move, let her get closer, before clamping her little teeth down against her knuckles. 

“No,” you squealed, and she let go as Manon snarled at her. Dorian had a hand clamped over his mouth as his chest shook. 

“You little bitch,” Manon cursed and took a few steps back. 

“She’s not great with strangers,” you admitted, and shifted so you had one arm holding her, running a finger down her spine. She purred, settling into your arms but kept her eyes fixed on Manon

“At least there’s only one.” He muttered. 

“About that …” you glanced into the corner of the room behind you, where the other tiny one you picked up yesterday was sound asleep. 

“Absolutely not.” Manon snapped. 

“She needs a friend.” You insisted. 

Dorian kept a wide berth as he crossed the room, hands in his pockets.

“This one is cute,” he said, crouching down and reaching in to pet it. The still nameless kitten didn’t hiss, and you watched from afar as her head poked up. “Is it a female?” He turned his head over his shoulder and you nodded. “Good, we don’t need them reproducing.” 

You sent a satisfied small Manon’s way, who was still eyeing Tipsy with reproach. “You can name her,” you offered, and those burnt gold eyes met yours. Maybe a compromise would help. 

“Fine.” She conceded, and stalked over, crouching next to Dorian. You followed this time, keeping a tight hold on the white kitten. The last thing you need right now is her jumping out of your arms to attack one of them. The other one rose, padding right over next to Manon, and trying to climb the edge of the box. The witch reached in cautiously, and picked up the tiny figure. She balanced her in both hands, tilting her head as she examined her. 

“I should be offended.” Dorian muttered as he watched both of you. 

“Onyx.” She announced a minute later, ignoring Dorian. 

“She’s orange.” But she supposed the stripes down her back were darker, but still not black. 

“It’s better than Tipsy.” Dorian’s mouth twitched. 

“Leave my child alone.” 

[throneofsapphics]

Can you please write a manorian x reader where manorian are fighting and yelling at each other and the reader gets very overstimulated and anxious because of that and they eventually notice and comfort her?

shutting down 

Manorian x Reader

Warnings: yelling, anxiety/ panic attack, overstimulation 

A/N: thank you for the request!

They weren’t like this often, screaming and yelling at each other. Normally you could slip out the door to avoid it but they were poised right in the way and you didn’t want to end up in the middle of it. You couldn’t even figure out what they were saying any more, only the tone and pitch of their voices flooding over you, suffocating you. Their voices grew louder and more aggressive with each sentence. You dropped your head down, covering your ears with your hands and shutting your eyes firmly closing, praying they would stop and shut up. Your heart started beating fast enough you felt it in your throat. Your body was shutting down, instead of fight or flight, you froze. Each breath felt like a struggle as your throat closed in on itself, the pressure in your chest growing and growing. Panic attack, that’s what you were getting close to. You forced air in and out of your lungs, trying to count up to ten and back down again, thinking of all of the strategies you’d studied and learned. 

It took you a bit to realize the noise had stopped. Still, you focused on counting and breathing. A hand ran soft strokes down your back, and you could feel the heat of a body crouched in front of you. 

Manon called your name - softly even, her tone completed at odds with the one a few minutes ago. “Can you open your eyes for us?” Dorian asked from next to you. He was the one running a hand down your back, then. Smaller hands gently grasped yours, pulling them away from where they’d started to dig into your scalp. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes to see the witch in front of you. Those burnt-gold eyes filled with a tinge of worry. You can count on one hand the amount of times she’d looked that … soft and gentle. “I’m sorry.” She murmured, and that was enough to make your eyes widen in shock. 

“We’re sorry.” Dorian said, one arm tugging around your shoulders to pull you into his side. It freed up enough space for Manon to slip into the seat next to you. It was a bit of an awkward touch, but her hand ran a comforting stroke down your thigh before squeezing right above your knee. Manon wasn’t big on physical touch like this, but she knew you were. 

“It’s okay.” You mumbled, digging your head into his shoulder. 

“No,” Manon said harshly. “No it’s not.” Strangely, something warm fluttered in your chest at her words. 

[throneofsapphics]

Oh can you please do Manorian x pregnant reader!! Like how you did with rowaelin

our little witchling 

poly!Manorian x Pregnant Reader

(part two)

Summary: You followed her gaze - stuck on your hand, covering your belly. You quickly moved it, tucking the tunic back down, but she would have noticed the shift in your scent by now. 

Warnings: minor injury, protectiveness

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/N: thank you for requesting it! I love writing them. 

You sat on the couch, carefully tracing the small bump showing in your belly - almost imperceptible, your clothing still hid it, and you’d barely noticed it at first - assuming you were just bloating. But then the time for your period came, and left. 

Manon and Dorian had both been away for a while, and you still debated on whether or not to tell them. You hadn’t taken any tests either, not wanted to confirm it. You knew Manon wanted a witchling, for a while, and they hadn’t exactly been trying, but hadn’t not been trying. In your case, you missed one tonic - and now had a small bump growing in your stomach. 

You didn’t mention the missed period to them - they were gone when it would have happened. And, it still could be a coincidence. Stress, different kinds of tonics, diet changes … but none of those made sense to you. None seemed to apply. 

The second one came and gone. You used the bits of magic you have to keep your scent under wraps - to prevent Manon from noticing. Maybe it was wrong of you, maybe a mistake, but a small part of you was scared of her reaction. You had no idea what it would be. Or Dorian’s either. There was some fear inside you, fear that they would thing you did this on purpose, even though it was just one missed tonic, that’s all it took. 

The second period went - their schedules lining up so they missed that as well, and you finally decided to get tested, and made your way down to the castle healer - your heart beating louder with each step, each stair you took, each hallway you turned down. 

-

“I need … to see if I’m pregnant.” You muttered quietly, once it was just you and her in a room. “And I want to be discreet.” 

She swallowed harshly, but nodded. A few minutes later, she told you. You were already nearly certain, but the official announcement had you bursting in tears. 

She sat next to you, rubbing comforting circles into your back, and let you cry on her shoulder. 

“Do you know how far along you are?” 

“Maybe two to three months.” 

She clicked her tongue, “you should’ve come sooner.” 

“I know.” You loosed a long breath. 

“Please keep it to yourself.” Your eyes dug into yours, and she hesitated a moment before agreeing. 

Thankfully, she didn’t ask too many more questions - about your hesitancy, why you burst into tears, why you’d waited so long. 

You made it back to your rooms, tears dried and face clear of any evidence you had been crying. 

You pulled your tunic up slightly, spotting the small bump, and traced your fingers over it again. Slowly, you drifted off into a deep sleep, one hand resting against your belly. 

-

Manon and Dorian intended to surprise you, returning a day early. They carefully opened and closed the door, finding you dozing off on the couch. 

A smile fell over Dorian’s lips - seeing you so peaceful, hair flowing around your face, lips slightly parted, and steady even breaths. He noticed Manon going rigid next to him, and watching where her eyes traced - to the hand covering your stomach. 

Manon’s eyes were wide, and he saw her sniff the air slightly. “Pregnant,” she said quietly, turning to face him. “Did you know.” 

He shook his head, rounding the couch to crouch down next to you, pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, “y/n.” 

Your eyes blinked open, still half-lidded, and a sleepy smile crossed her face. “Early,” you mumbled, pressing your cheek into the pillow. Your neck craned, spotting Manon still frozen near the door. He noticed your eyes widen at her stance. 

-

You didn’t expect them to be back until tomorrow, and the sight of Dorian crouched next to you, his eyes soft and a smile across his lips, warmed something in your heart, and you turned to find Manon. She was frozen, eyes wide and body rigid. Something like fear ran through you. You followed her gaze - stuck on your hand, covering your belly. You quickly moved it, tucking the tunic back down, but she would have noticed the shift in your scent by now. 

“How,” Manon cleared her throat. You’d never heard her sound that uncertain or hesitant, “How long have you known?” 

“I found out for certain today.” 

-

Manon’s head spun. A witchling. Not technically a witchling - but a witchling to her. And y/n, pregnant. You said you only found out for certain today, but she got the sense you’ve known for longer than that. Her eyes narrowed, “How long have you known?” 

“A few weeks,” you whispered, and she scented your fear. Fear of what? 

“Why are you scared?” Dorian cut her a harsh look, but she didn’t take her eyes off of you. 

“I didn’t know how …” Silver threatened to line her eyes, and Manon took a few steps forward, doing her best not to seem threatening. 

“How we would react.” Dorian finished her sentence for her. 

“It was an accident, I swear.” A small tear dripped down your pretty face, and Manon felt something inside of her break. You thought she’d be mad at you, mad because … 

She crossed the rest of the space in the room, moving quickly enough neither you or Dorian could react, and ran her fingers through your hair. Something she’d learned would calm you, put you at ease, and sure enough it did.

“I would never be mad at you for this.” Her eyes drifted to your stomach, and she leaned over you, pulling it up slightly. That small bump, a little witchling growing inside. A fierce protectiveness settled over her. And they’d been gone so much in the last few months. That would change, she wouldn’t leave your side, not if she could help it, until she knew both you and the babe would be safe. 

-

Gods, you felt so relieved at her reaction. You didn’t know exactly how she would react - and maybe that’s what scared you the most. 

“You should’ve told us sooner.” Her voice was harsh. Biting, and you frowned. “It’s dangerous. Pregnancy.” Dorian didn’t interrupt her, but took your hand, squeezing lightly. His face told you he felt the same way, but wouldn’t interrupt Manon - that never ended well. 

“I’m fine.” You protested, and Dorian squeezed your hand lightly. A warning. You looked directly into those burnt gold eyes. Not anger or fury, but worry. When was the last time you saw Manon worried? You can’t remember. “I have both of you, I’ll be fine.” That must’ve been the right thing to say, because a bit of tension left her shoulders. 

-

It took a few weeks before Manon or Dorian would leave you alone. As in actually leave your side for more than a few minutes. They alternated their schedules so each of them would be able to be with you, at any given time, and you spent time in both the Witch Kingdom, and Adarlan. 

You caught Dorian reading a few books on pregnancy and chuckled. 

“There’s healers for that,” you leaned over his shoulder, pressing a small kiss to your cheek, and running fingers through his hair. He leaned into your touch, but kept reading. Nothing could convince him to return those books back to the library. 

-

A few months later, a ball was coming up, and there was no avoiding the bump showing in your stomach now, so you found the perfect dress to meld around it, showing it off. 

This time, you didn’t have to convince Manon to show up. It was her event after all, at least partly. For both the courtiers of Adarlan, and some representatives of the Witch Kingdom. A very stressful event for both to plan, and to make sure no blood was shed by the end of it. 

You laughed with some friends, sipping on cherry juice instead of wine, and thanked every person who came up to congratulate you - the muscles on your cheeks starting to ache by the end of the night as you plastered a kind smile on your face. 

You finally got your chance to slip away, and took it. Your eyes were focused solely on the door, and on getting back to your room to rest, that you missed dodging around the person in your past. Before you could right yourself - your sense of balance has been off the last few months, you hit the floor, thankfully your hip first. The entire room seemed to go silent. Oh Gods this would not end well, Manon and Bronwen made it their first, quickly followed by Dorian, helping you to your feet. 

Manon looked at the man, who was stumbling out apologies, like he would be her next meal, you glanced at Bronwen urgently, and she got the message - somehow managing to drag Manon out of the room, as Dorian lifted you into his arms. Thankfully you were already close to the door, but the look Dorian gave the man was nearly as deadly as Manon’s. 

-

Manon paced the room, complete bloodlust in her eyes - Bronwen standing between her and the door. They were in a heated argument when she heard a set of footsteps approaching, and scented both you and Dorian. 

“They need you.” Bronwen emphasized, stepping aside and opening the door, before quickly slipping out. 

-

“For Gods sake, please don’t call a healer,” you groaned as you entered the room - Dorian refusing to let you walk. He carried you right to the bed, laying you carefully on your right side - the one that didn’t hit the ground. 

“Manon,” you called softly - seeing the pure bloodlust in her eyes. If she got close to that man … he would be dead without another thought. You held out your hand. “Come here please.” 

You knew Dorian was just as angry, but he kept a better lid on it, for now. She approached stiffly, taking your hand, you guided hers over your stomaching - feeling the babe kick just as you did. 

“We’re both fine.” You turned your head to Dorian, hoping to get his confirmation. You felt the soft caress of his magic as soon as you laid down. 

“Fine,” He said as a muscle in his jaw ticked. 

“Sit with me, sit with us.” You scooted back slightly to make room for her, and she did. A bit of tension seemed to leave her as she rested her hand on your stomach, even as you removed your own. Dorian’s hand joined hers, his thumb running back and forth.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled, and let them both take care of you - changing you out of that gown, taking the pins out of your hair, slipping a night dress over you. “Stay.” You almost begged as you crawled back in the bed. “Both of you.” Mostly because you wanted them to, but partially to save that man's life as well.  

They both ran gentle strokes over your body, avoiding the sore area, and letting you melt into their bodies, drifting off to sleep. 

[throneofsapphics]

20. “relationships are built on trust, and i trust you.” with Manorian? 🥹🥺 HAPPY ONE YEAR!!!!! I love your fics and am so happy for you!

warnings: anxiety

for my one year drabbles celebration <3

ahhhh thank you so much <3 I love & appreciate you!!

Rumors. Horrible and wicked rumors spread throughout the castle of you cheating on your partners. Having been accused of it in the past, your body was tense and heart rate through the roof.

“I would never,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair. 

“Never what?” An amused voice came from behind you. Dorian. You jumped, not having heard him come through the door. 

Three breaths to center yourself. You waved your hand, “you know,” trying to allege to the rumors without actually having to say them. 

“I do not know,” Manon stalked through the open door. “Care to share?”

To anyone else, the words may have sounded sharp or even accusing but you knew that was just her way of speaking. 

“That I cheated,” you dug your teeth into your bottom lip, fists clenching the fabric at your sides, “I’d never do that -“ the words came out in a stream of mumbles and murmurs that barely made sense. 

Dorian centered you by placing a hand on your shoulder, and the words slowly faded. Manon came to stand next to him, grabbing on of your hands. It was awkward in your hold, but you knew the witch was still learning how to comfort and you took each moment for how precious it was. 

“Relationships are built on trust, and i trust you,” Dorian murmured, running his thumb back and forth. 

[throneofsapphics]

Hey hey, as someone who also speaks fluent angst, I was hoping to make a request?

Reader is injured and tries to hide how bad it is?

Could work for any character soo you choose! I do love your poly fics though 🥺🥺🥺

THANK YOU!!

knocking on death's door

poly!Manorian x Reader

Summary: You knew you weren’t dying, but by the looks of it everyone else seemed to think so.  

Warnings: major injury, descriptions injuries/mention of blood, angst-ish

Word Count: ~1.7k 

A/N: ah thank you! I love this request, thank you for sending it! honestly I love writing poly fics. also anyone if you hit your head please go to a doctor 

You took a small tumble down the stairs. You’d been injured worse before, but knew you likely had a concussion and would have some intense bruises on your back and legs. You could already feel the giant one blooming on your upper thigh, and felt the ache in your lower back. But, a good salve and a discreet healer could fix a majority of problems. 

The only problem that might come your way is Manon and Dorian. Both of them have the tendency to be fussy. The last thing you wanted was to be on bedrest for a week. 

You crept down towards the healing rooms, taking a few servants' passageways, and peering through the door. Just your luck, the only healer you trust not to report to them, a close friend of yours, wasn’t present, and you decided to go back tomorrow - right after they left. 

-

Manon and Dorian weren’t in your shared rooms and wouldn’t be back until later. They had a plethora of negotiations and meetings today and the next few days. A part of you did feel guilty hiding this from them, but they already had a lot going on - you didn’t want to add any extra stressors. 

You slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower, washing off the blood from a few cuts, and snatching some of the salve and a pain tonic you kept in stock. With that, hopefully the bruises will fade in a few hours, and the headache should disappear. The small scrape on your palm … that you’ll just have to wait out, but it’s easily explainable. They know you can be clumsy sometimes. 

You fell asleep on the couch quickly after. 

-

Manon scented something was off as soon as she entered the rooms - blood. She stalked right for your side, one arm dangled over the edge of the couch, the other curled under your pillow. You were sound asleep, your breaths deep and steady, and only mumbling as she carefully lifted your arm, turning it gently to see a small scrape on your palm. Falling. Again. You were so clumsy it worried her sometimes. She called your name, quietly at first. Poking you when you didn’t wake. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking heavily once you saw her. 

“Falling, again?” She raised her brow, looking at the slightly guilty smile on your face. “You need to be more careful.” She exhaled sharply, going to find something to bandage it with, and disinfect it. 

“I already took care of it,” you called after her, but she ignored you. Dorian came back shortly after, frowning at Manon wrapping a small piece of cloth over your hand. “It’s over kill,” you insisted, but one sharp look and your mouth snapped shut. 

“Did you hurt anything else?” 

“No,” you sighed, rolling back to shove your head into the pillow. Manon was a bit suspicious but … she knows you get annoyed when she fusses, and left it for now. 

-

The three of you collapsed into bed, all tired, and a slightly longer than usual nightgown hid the bruises. Your head still ached, but you took another tonic to fight that off. Apparently their day had been incredibly exhausting because they didn’t question anything too much, and the three of you fell into a deep sleep within minutes. 

-

Dorian rose first the next morning, smiling at the sight of you and Manon curled up together. Your nightgown bunched slightly at the side but … purple, he caught a sliver of purple skin. Carefully, he pulled down the blanket some more, shifting your clothing as well. A giant purple bruise bloomed on the side. 

He called your name, but you didn’t wake - he woke Manon, however, who spotted the bruise as well. 

“Y/n.” She called this time. Nothing. He shook your shoulder slightly, and you still didn’t stir. 

A quick scan with his magic showed some kind of swelling in your brain. That’s beyond anything he could handle. He scooped you in his arms, darting out the door as quickly as possible, not caring he was only wearing a pair of long sleeping pants, and sprinted for the healing rooms, carefully cradling your head against his shoulder. Manon caught up to him quickly, thankfully having thrown some clothes on, and asking questions but he couldn’t answer - his only focus was getting you there, as fast as he could. 

-

It took most of Dorian’s self restraint to keep both him and Manon from interrupting the healers working on you. 

“She said she didn’t hurt anything else.” Manon’s voice was barely above a whisper, her hand clutching onto his arms, nails digging in slightly. Maybe it would’ve hurt, but he was too focused on the scene in front of him to notice. 

You can be a bit clumsy, and Dorian knows that - it’s not unusual for you to come in with some sort of scrape or bruise once in a while but … neither of them asked what happened this time. The day had been long, and they’d been tired. Guilt ripped through him. And you’d lied too - to Manon, saying nothing else was injured, then a dark bruise on your leg and back, and somehow you’d hit your head. 

He felt his magic starting to bubble underneath his skin. One of the healer’s noticed as well and turned sharply to them. “We’re taking care of her. Both of you out.” 

-

Manon’s eyes narrowed at the woman ordering them out of the room, but her face was firm, no-nonsense, and unyielding. Dorian pushed her back gently, and she left, somehow without snarling or hissing at any of the healers. They found a small bench no less than 20 feet from the door, and waited. She leaned her head against his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. The warmth provided an anchor, kept Manon from spiraling too deep into her thoughts. But she can’t help thinking she should’ve checked, she should’ve pushed further. Dorian’s absolute panic had filled her with dread. He always seems to keep his head, always calm. 

-

You knew you weren’t dying, but by the looks of it everyone else seemed to think so. 

It was strange, seeming to float outside of your body - watching everyone move around you. You were in and out of this semi-conscious state for days, watching as healers would fuss over you - take your temperature, check your heart rate and breathing, scan for any additional injuries. Swelling in her brain, you heard once - and winced. 

The worst part was watching Manon and Dorian. They were pale, their eyes lined with worry, and the bags under their eyes were heavy enough it looks like they might have punched each other. You were never alone, one of them was always there unless the healers kicked them out. Either holding your hand, or sitting next to you. 

Once, when Manon wasn’t present, Dorian brought a book. Your favorite, and read outloud to you - his eyes darting over to your face with every other line. All you wanted was to reach out, to grab his hand, touch him and let him know you’re okay, but you couldn’t. Your body was stuck there, limp and pale. 

You’d never felt this kind of hopelessness before. Knowing your loved ones are in pain and only able to watch them suffer, not give a comforting squeeze, word, or even blink. 

Five days passed, and you were back in your rooms. 

At dawn, on the seventh morning, Manon laid next to you, curled on her side, eyes closed, but you could tell she was awake. Dorian was awkwardly spread over a chair, his chest falling and rising in even breaths. Asleep. You watched as tears dripped down Manon’s cheeks. Not once had you seen her cry. She didn’t say a word, no sobs leaving her chest, but the silent tears broke something in you.

You blinked, and you were back in your body. You stayed perfectly still, trying to figure out if this was real or not. Slowly, you opened your eyes. Manon was there, tears still lining her cheeks. 

It took more effort than you cared to admit, but you reached your arm up, brushing a tear off her cheek. She leaned into your touch for a few seconds, before those beautiful eyes shot open. 

She grabbed your hand, holding it gently between both of hers. “You’re awake.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and hoarse. 

Dorian was up in an instant, sitting on the other side of the bed and taking your other hand. 

“Hi.” Your voice was so weak it came out as a croak. Dorian let out something between a sob and a laugh. 

Reluctantly, Dorian left to grab the healers as quickly as he could. Manon had refused to move - holding onto your hand like a lifeline. 

He returned with them, and it was a whirl of questions that made your head hurt, and further instructions. Rest, rest, and rest. Enough rest to drive you insane. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Manon finally asked after the room cleared. 

“It .. it didn’t seem that bad.” Your voice was rough and your throat scratchy but you managed to get the words out. 

“You hit your head, you’ve been out for a week.” Manon hissed, but kept her voice low. You could have died, went unsaid. Dorian handed you a glass of water, helping you sit up against the pillows. You could sense the … not quite anger, but hurt coming from him. Hurt and fear. You clutched the glass, forcing your hands not to shake, and took a small sip. 

“I know,” you whispered. She blinked in confusion. “I … I wasn’t here, but I could see it, sometimes.” Your hands began to shake, water starting to slosh over the edges

She pressed her lips in a tight line, and took the glass from you, pressing it up against your lips. “You’re not getting out of bed until I say so,” was her response. 

You glared at her, opening your mouth to say something, but Dorian spoke before you could. “This isn’t a battle you’ll win. I’m on her side.” 

“Traitor.” You mumbled.

[throneofsapphics]

Can you please write a manorian x reader where she gets her cycle so she’s very sick and they take care of her? I think that would be so cute

agony

Manorian x f!Reader

Warnings: mentions of/allusions to blood and vomiting, not proofread

A/N: the scene throne of glass were dorian is teasing celeana/aelin about her period is honestly one of my favorites from that book, thank you for the request!

You groaned, it was that time again, and some lovely cramps woke you in the dead of night. At least your body would give you a warning sign, before the bleeding actually started. 

You carefully untangled yourself from Manon, a task made more difficult by her arm slung around your waist. 

You made it to the bathroom, searching for some strips of lining before you heard movement, and a grumble - definitely Dorian’s. The door creaked open, and Manon stood there - still naked, not bothering to put on any clothes. Her eyes were sharp, but her voice sleepy, “you’re about to start your cycle.” 

I’m aware,” you grimaced, clutching one arm over your stomach before darting for the toilet. Somehow, maybe her immortal senses, she always knew when you would start. A sigh came from her, but she brushed your hair away from your face and ran circles over your back. 

Vaguely, you heard her snap orders at Dorian, her sharp tone leaving no room for argument. 

A few minutes later, he appeared with a glass of water and some concern in his eyes. Manon sent a him a look that said, don’t you dare leave. He raised a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes before stalking from the room. 

“It wasn’t this bad last time,” he commented, helping you stand. 

“It changes.” You said through gritted teeth. He snorted, a smirk on his face. Before you could snap at him, he picked you up and carted you back to bed, arranging a variety of pillows and blankets around you.” 

“I’m going to suffocate,” you complained with a smile. 

“Then suffocate in silence. I want to sleep.” 

“I can’t exactly suffocate loudly” you countered. “I feel like I’m dying.” 

“It can’t be that bad,” he teased. You knew he was joking, but threw a pillow a bit too aggressively. He dodged it with ease, but missed the next one. 

“What did he do?” Manon asked, returning with a tonic in hand. You didn’t bother asking what was in it before guzzling it down. 

“Why do you always think I did something?” He sounded vaguely offended. 

“He said ‘it can’t be that bad’.” you butted in, and smirked slightly as Manon’s eyes narrowed in his directly. 

“I was only teasing,” Dorian quickly replied. There’s a reason he didn’t make that particular comment while she was in the room. Manon tends to be very protective if you’re hurting - even if it’s just a papercut. 

Even with his teasing, Dorian still fussed over you for the next few days. 

Manon supplied you with a steady stream of tonics and ginger tea, even when you insisted it wasn’t that bad. Dorian somehow knew exactly what you were craving and made sure it was always available. 

-

“You do know I can be left alone, right?” You were curled up on a couch, Dorian skimming through some papers next to you, and Manon glaring at reports spread over a desk. 

“I’d never leave you alone in your agony,” he tugged you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You huffed, but leaned into his touch as he pressed as kiss against your forehead. 

Manon looked up from her desk, glancing at the two of you. “And I’d never leave you stuck with just him, in ‘agony’,” her mouth curved into a wicked smile as Dorian shot her a nasty look and you tried to cover your laugh. 

[throneofsapphics]

Ok but like manorian x reader where they can’t find her and Manon is freaking out thinking something happened but they end up finding her and she’s just sleeping AHAHA (you pick wherever she fell asleep lol)

leave a note

Manorian x Reader

Summary: Reader goes ‘missing.’ 

Warnings: none i can think of!

A/N: haha I love this idea, thank you for the request!

You’d missed dinner. Not entirely unusual - sometimes you worked through it, or found a few friends to go out with. But, you would always leave a note if you left the castle. 

He pushed the doors to your rooms open, Manon shortly behind him, and expected to find you at a desk - papers strewn around you, at least three different books open, but you were nowhere to be seen. And neither was a note. 

“It’s possible she forgot.” He murmured, mostly to himself. 

“Forgot what?” Manon stalked over to his side, where he was staring at your desk. 

“To leave a note.” 

“Y/n never forgets.” He watched as the burnt-gold eyes scanned the room, her body stiffening. He didn’t need any immortal senses to feel the panic starting to come from her. “She hasn’t been here in hours.” 

“Then lets go look.” Dorian ran through the places you could be - library, one of the private offices, some of the meeting rooms - maybe you needed a bit more space. 

He strode through the doorways, walking faster than usual. 

-

Manon was on edge. Everything today went as normal - the only exception was your decision to go for a run … but she knew you had meetings after that, and had seen you around lunch. Her mind whirled through every scenario, every possibility, and each becoming worse and worse. 

Panic started to set inside her, iron nails nearly snapping out at the thought of you in danger. She managed to keep some of her cool - hopefully not to stress Dorian further, but she could see the King was already on edge. 

They went through each room, each place she could possibly be, and didn’t find her. Her panic grew stronger by the minute, iron nails snapped out. Until she caught your scent. 

Manon didn’t bother watching to see if Dorian kept pace as she followed the trail. Through rarely used parts of the castle - mostly abandoned. Dread and anger grew in equal measures. If anything had happened to you, she’d rip the throats out of anyone even remotely involved.

-

You were tired, it had been a long day. Countless meetings, exhausting courtiers that made you want to rip your hair out, and you’d decided to go for a run this morning, for the first time in months. It made dealing with everyone easier, but didn’t help your exhaustion - and you were ready for bed before dinner. 

The castle was big enough to have infrequently used passageways, and you found one of your favorites, intending to rest. The late afternoon sun beamed through the windows, warming the sun and stones of the small alcove. A rest couldn’t hurt, you propped yourself up inside it, curling against the warm wall, tucking your knees up, and decided to close your eyes for a few minutes. 

“Y/n,” a feminine voice sounded, and you groaned, stirring. Your neck ached on one side .. where were you? Your eyes blinked open, and it was dark. You’d only laid down to rest for a few minutes, it couldn’t be that late. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and twisted, one hand holding the side of your neck, to see Manon and Dorian. Both looking incredibly relieved, but a little pissed off. Manon grabbed you, roughly pulling you from the alcove. 

“Be gentle,” you protested, but she tugged you upright, scanning your entire body. Looking for injuries. 

“Why the hell would you sleep there?” Her eyes narrowed and her voice sharp. 

“I didn’t mean to.” You said carefully. “I was just supposed to rest.” 

“Stupid.” She hissed at you. Dorian pushed her out of the way with his shoulder, wrapping you in his arms instead. 

“What she means to say is we were worried when we couldn’t find you.” He ran his hand up and down your spin, gently pressing you closer to him. “And that we’re glad your okay.” 

“Don’t do that again.” Manon snapped and you hid a laugh, pressing your face into Dorian’s chest. “Napping in an abandoned hallway-”

“Or leave a note.” Dorian interrupted, his a corner of his mouth turning up. 

Manon snarled at the interruption and she lectured you the entire way back to your rooms. 

[throneofsapphics]

Poly!Manorian with reader & Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now… ❤️

warnings: implied loss, a little angst

a/n: I know it's been like three weeks but I'm still going to finish these I swear (from here)

Numb. Empty. Nothing. 

You felt nothing, were nothing, deserved nothing. Or at least your brain told you that. All that existed was this wide, empty, and endless void beckoning you home. 

You were the Queen fighting it off, a barely used dagger in one hand, dead soldiers surrounding you, fighting back the echoes of your past manifested in that horrible empty place. 

“Tell us how to help you,” Manon ordered. Ordered because she couldn’t see another way to get through to you, you figured. She had a point though, and it worked. 

“Touch me. I don’t care. I just need to feel something right now.” 

“Are you sure-” 

“I’m sure,” you turned to them with wide, pleading eyes. Anything that might replace them emptiness, anything that might make you feel even a fraction of whole again. Dorian met your eyes for a moment, an understanding you didn't comprehend flashed, and he glanced over at Manon. Some kind of silent conversation. You couldn't bring yourself to care.

Hands grabbed your arms, pulling you to your feet, tugging you to the bedroom. A sliver of beautiful and pure excitement coursed through you, you cherished and clung to it like it might disappear at any given moment. 

It wasn’t what you expected. 

As the bundled you between the two of them, arms wrapped tightly around you, the tears finally fell. You were safe. Here, you were home.