Hiiii first of all, thanks for following me!!! (I'm also a WH lovebot lol) Can I have 59. “I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to believe that you’re good enough because you are. You’re so amazing.” with James and Cordelia? 😊
thank YOU for following me back!! if you ever want to scream about will my inbox is always open lol. this got a bit long I got carried away - i hope you enjoy!!
“I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to believe that you’re good enough because you are. You’re so amazing.”
James Herondale x Cordelia Carstairs
Cordelia woke to the weight on the right side of the bed shifting; she recognized it as her husband pushing himself up from their shared mattress. The room was pitch black and her eyes adjusted to the darkness just in time to see James silently slip out of the room. With a sigh, she pushed the coverlet off and lifted herself from the soft embrace of the bed, willing the witchlight lamp on her bedside table to turn on. Now sitting on the edge of the mattress, bathed in the soft glow of witchlight, she reached across the bed to grab James’ watch from his nightstand. Four A.M., Cordelia groaned inwardly. This was the third time this week James had awoken in the middle of the night, the previous times Cordelia had left him to have some time to himself. Tonight, she rose from the bed and wrapped herself in her dressing gown, following her husband downstairs.
They were three months into their second year sharing this home. The first year was extremely different from this one, due to many factors. First, their marriage was a sham, organized just to protect Cordelia’s reputation from ruin amongst the Enclave. Unbeknownst to him, James’s emotions had been controlled by a bracelet given to him by Grace Blackthorn. Lucie had befriended Grace in their pursuit to bring back Grace’s brother from the dead, and when she found out Grace was using her brother, she forced Grace to remove the bracelet. It took a while, but after he was released from the hold of the bracelet, James came to realize he loved Cordelia as she loved him. Secondly, James’s grandfather, Belial, had wreaked havoc on London, testing the abilities and fortitude of shadowhunters throughout England. Many had lost their lives fighting against Belial and James couldn’t help but blame himself. With help from his family and parabatai and Cordelia, James had slowly begun to heal.
Cordelia took a guess that she could find James in the library and she was correct, entering to him kneeling in front of the fireplace, stirring up the coals with a poker. The library of their home was nowhere near as extravagant as the one in the London Institute that James had grown up reading in, but it had still quickly become his favorite room in the house. Most of the furniture was selected by James - who had surprisingly good taste - and he rapidly filled the shelves that lined the room with mundane novels and texts on demons and old tomes written completely in Latin. Of course, Cordelia also contributed some of her favorite Persian literature. James picked up on the language rather fast, even impressing her mother with a short conversation entirely in Persian during their last dinner together.
Cordelia watched by the doorway as James tossed a match into the fireplace. It wasn’t particularly cold enough to need a fire - being that strange time of spring when it’s too chilly without a coat but too hot with one on - but James always loved to read to the soft crackle of a fire humming in the background. She supposed this was another habit picked up from his growing up in the Institute; the big, drafty building always had fires burning in all the rooms no matter what season it was.
Content that the fire was successfully started, James pushed himself up from the fireplace. Turning to make his way to the sofa he always stretched out on while he read, he stopped when he noticed Cordelia watching him from across the room. “Oh - er - hi,” he began, quietly, as if there was anyone else in the house to wake. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I would come down here and read.” His eyes flicked to the ground and he scratched the back of his neck above the collar of his pajama shirt. He was wearing the set she picked up for him last month while out shopping with Lucie; they were made of soft cotton in a deep burgundy, oftest by a thick cream-colored vertical stripe. Cordelia thought the dark red color would offset his eyes and had been correct, although, James’s eyes would shine beautifully regardless of what color he was wearing.
“I know, it’s okay,” she started, moving further into the room. She reached him and took one of his hands in hers, “this is the third time this week you’ve woke in the middle of the night, James, is everything alright?”
“Yes, Daisy, of course,” he responded, sounding as if he was forcing out his words. Facing away from the fire, his face was shadowed, but Cordelia thought she could see remnants of tears on the skin of his cheeks. Reaching up to cup his face in her hands, she swiped her thumb across his cheekbones and felt wetness. He tried to pull away from her, but she tightened her hold on his face.
“James, eshgham, please talk to me. What is burdening your mind?”
He looked to her with wide eyes, the yellow shining a deep gold in the dim light of the room. “Daisy… my Daisy, I simply do not deserve you.”
She gasped, “how can you say that? Have I not made it clear that I have only ever loved you, James Herondale?”
He searched her face timidly, “you have, I- I just don’t understand it. You could do so much better than me”
Moving her hands from his face, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the sofa. Sitting him down, she curled up next to him, taking his hands in hers, and faced him. He stared straight forward into the fire, watching the flames intently. “There is no reason for you to ever feel like you do not deserve me. I want you to believe that you’re good enough because you are.”
Her words caused him to finally turn his head to her, golden eyes shining with unspilt tears. She pushed on, “You are so amazing, James. I know there are things that trouble you that my love alone cannot heal, but I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to be proud of the son that you are, the brother that you are, the husband that you are. Most importantly, I want you to be proud of the Shadowhunter that you are, because there will never be anyone else like you.”
He blinked at her, letting the tears finally fall, and wordlessly gathered her into an embrace. They held each other until the fire burned down low in the hearth and James never left their bed in the middle of the night again.
Thank you❤️❤️ Though, I have to be honest, I have several handwritings and this is just my bougie one😂 I don't usually write like that irl bc it takes time
I'm also a TSC fic writer (only for the ships/characters I like lol) and I like writing herongraystairs, so if you have an idea and want me to write it, you can ask and I will write the fic 👀
yayyy!!! i’ll let you know if i think of anything while im reading ;)
