dee-writes-smut - Tumblr blog

[dee-writes-smut]

WARNING KEY:

A - angst

F - fluff

H/C - hurt and/or comfort

S - smut

D - dark content

Drowning | a, d | seeing the ghost of you hurts almost as bad as watching you go.

[dee-writes-smut]

DROWNING

FEATURING Liam Mairi x reader

SUMMARY seeing the ghost of you hurts almost as bad as watching you go.

CONTENT WARNINGS major character loss, depression, depictions of grief

AUTHORS NOTE I don't know what it is right now, but I am just living for writing about grief. Sorry, not sorry! <3

"Look at me," Liam croaks from where he's splayed out on the ground by Deigh. Violet is sobbing loudly in Xaden's arms on the other side of him, but you can't hear them. Not when your ears feel like they've been filled with cotton when the love of your life is lying weakly on the ground beside you dying.

He's dying.

Oh gods.

As the realization sinks in, a heavy weight presses against your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs. Panic rises like a tide within you, threatening to overwhelm your senses. You reach out to Liam, your hands trembling as they hover over him, unsure of what to do, of how to help him.

"Stay with me, Liam," you plead, your voice barely a whisper, yet it reverberates with desperation. "Please, don't leave me."

But Liam's eyes are distant, glassy orbs that seem to stare into a void beyond your reach. His breathing is shallow, each exhale a painful reminder of his fragile state. You feel a tear escape your eye, tracing a path down your cheek as you struggle to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to engulf you.

Around you, the world seems to blur into an indistinct haze. The sounds of chaos and anguish fade into a distant hum, overshadowed by the deafening silence that fills your ears. All that exists in this moment is Liam, lying motionless before you, his life slipping away with each passing second.

Memories flood your mind like a torrential downpour, each one a bittersweet reminder of the moments you've shared together. The laughter, the tears, the whispered promises exchanged in the dead of night—they all swirl together in a kaleidoscope of emotions, too painful to bear yet too precious to let go.

You clench your fists, feeling the sting of helplessness gnawing at your insides. You would give anything—anything at all—to turn back time, to undo whatever led you to this moment, to save Liam from this cruel fate.

But time is a relentless force, indifferent to your pleas and regrets. And as you watch the light slowly fade from Liam's eyes, you realize with a sinking heart that there is nothing you can do to stop it.

"Please, Liam," you whisper, your voice cracking with grief. "I love you."

Liam's gaze meets yours, a flicker of recognition dances in his fading eyes. His lips part, words trembling on the precipice of his breath. With a herculean effort, he manages to muster the strength to speak, his voice barely a whisper, but each syllable heavy with emotion.

"Please…," he rasps, his voice barely audible above the din of chaos surrounding you. "You have to… keep living. For me."

His words strike you like a dagger to the heart, the pain of his plea tearing through the fragile facade of composure you've struggled to maintain. Tears stream down your cheeks unabated, hot and salty against your skin as you shake your head in disbelief.

"No, Liam," you choke out, your voice raw with anguish. "I can't… I can't do this without you."

But Liam's hand finds yours, his touch feeble yet filled with a quiet strength that belies his frailty. His fingers intertwine with yours, holding on with a determination born of love and desperation.

"You have to," he insists, his voice growing weaker with each passing moment. "You're stronger than you think… You can't let this… destroy you."

His words hang in the air like a solemn vow, a testament to the depth of his love and the sacrifice he's willing to make for you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the truth mirrored within them—the agonizing realization that this is goodbye.

A sob escapes your lips, a gut-wrenching cry that echoes through the desolate landscape of your heart. You bury your face in Liam's chest, clinging to him with a desperation born of fear and despair.

"I can't do this without you," you whisper brokenly, your voice a mere shadow of its former strength. "Please, don't leave me."

But Liam's grip weakens, his breaths growing shallower with each passing second. His eyes flutter closed, and for a moment, there's nothing but the deafening silence of impending loss.

Then, with a final exhale, he slips away, leaving behind nothing but the hollow ache of his absence. And as you cradle his lifeless form in your arms, the weight of his words settles over you like a shroud, a solemn reminder of the unbearable burden of grief that now lies ahead.

For in that moment, you realize that you've lost more than just the love of your life—you've lost a part of yourself, a piece of your soul that can never be replaced. And as you mourn the emptiness that now fills your heart, you know that nothing will ever be the same again.

There is no respite from the suffocating weight of grief that hangs heavy around your neck, dragging you down into the depths of despair.

You move through the world like a shadow of your former self, hollow and numb, the spark of life extinguished from your eyes. Friends and loved ones reach out to offer comfort, but their words fall on deaf ears, their gestures meaningless in the face of the gaping chasm that now consumes your soul.

Nights are the cruelest, long and lonely stretches of darkness that stretch on into eternity. You lie awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind consumed by thoughts of Liam—of all the things you wish you had said, all the moments you wish you could relive, all the ways you failed to save him.

The pain is relentless, a constant companion that gnaws at your insides, leaving you hollow and empty. You try to drown it out with alcohol, with drugs, with anything that will numb the ache in your heart, but nothing can fill the void left by Liam's absence.

And so, you continue to exist, day after day, trapped in a never-ending cycle of sorrow and regret. You wonder if it would have been easier if you had died with him, if you could have spared yourself this endless torment.

But deep down, you know that even death would offer no escape from the torment of your memories, no relief from the agony of your loss. And so you carry on, a shell of the person you once were, forever haunted by the ghost of the love you lost.

Days melted into weeks, and weeks into months, but the ache in my heart remained unyielding, a constant reminder of the void that Liam's absence had left behind. I found myself adrift in a sea of memories, unable to escape the relentless tide of grief that threatened to consume me.

Each morning brought with it a new battle, a struggle to find the strength to face another day without him by my side. I would drag myself out of bed, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, my mind clouded with sorrow, and force myself to move forward, one agonizing step at a time.

But no matter how hard I tried to bury my pain beneath layers of routine and responsibility, it always found a way to claw its way back to the surface, a gaping wound that refused to heal. I would catch myself staring blankly at the wall, lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts, my mind a swirling maelstrom of regret and longing.

It was in those moments of quiet desperation that I would feel him—Liam's presence hovering just beyond the edge of my consciousness, a whisper in the wind, a flicker of light in the darkness. I would close my eyes and reach out to him, my fingers grasping at the empty air, longing for the warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice, the comfort of his embrace.

But he was always just out of reach, a ghostly apparition that danced on the fringes of my perception, taunting me with the promise of solace that I knew would never come. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to let go—not when the mere thought of him was the only thing keeping me tethered to the world of the living.

I tried to lose myself in my work, throwing myself into my studies with a fervor bordering on obsession. But no matter how many hours I spent buried in books, no matter how many experiments I conducted in the sterile confines of the lab, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at my soul.

My friends and family tried to help, offering their support and encouragement in the hopes of lifting my spirits. They would invite me out for dinner, take me for long walks in the park, even organize weekend getaways to try and distract me from my pain.

But I couldn't escape the suffocating weight of grief that hung over me like a shroud, a darkness that followed me wherever I went, tainting even the most mundane moments with its oppressive presence. I would smile and nod and pretend to be okay, but inside, I was crumbling, piece by agonizing piece.

It wasn't until one particularly dark night, when the weight of my sorrow threatened to crush me beneath its relentless onslaught, that I finally reached my breaking point. I found myself standing on the edge of a precipice, staring out into the yawning abyss that stretched out before me, the urge to let go—to surrender to the sweet release of oblivion—almost overwhelming.

But then, in the depths of my despair, I felt a hand on my shoulder, a gentle pressure that pulled me back from the brink. I turned, expecting to see nothing but the empty darkness of my own mind, but instead, I found myself face to face with Liam—or rather, a ghostly apparition that bore his likeness.

I blinked, unable to believe my eyes. "Liam?" I whispered, my voice barely a breath in the stillness of the night.

He smiled—a sad, wistful smile that tugged at my heartstrings. "It's me," he said, his voice a mere whisper in the silence that surrounded us.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out to touch him, my fingers trembling with disbelief. "But how?" I asked, my voice choked with emotion. "How is this possible?"

Liam's smile faded, replaced by a look of profound sadness. "I'm not really here," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm just a figment of your imagination—a manifestation of your grief."

I shook my head, unwilling to accept the truth. "No," I protested, my voice rising in desperation. "You're real. You're here with me. I can feel you."

But Liam's expression remained unchanged, his eyes filled with a quiet resignation. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely audible above the sound of my own heartbeat. "I wish I could stay, but I can't. You have to let me go."

I felt a surge of panic rise within me, a primal instinct that screamed out in protest. "No," I cried, my voice echoing in the emptiness that surrounded us. "I won't. I can't. I need you."

But Liam shook his head, his features fading into the darkness like smoke on the wind. "You don't need me," he said, his voice a distant echo in the recesses of my mind. "You're stronger than you think. You have to find the strength to carry on, even without me."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone in the darkness, the emptiness of his absence a physical ache that echoed in the depths of my soul. I sank to my knees, tears streaming down my face, my heart shattering into a million jagged pieces.

But even as I wept, a small seed of hope took root within me—a tiny flicker of light amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf me. I realized that Liam was right—that I couldn't continue to cling to him, to the memory of what we once had.

I had to find a way to let go—to honor his memory by living my life to the fullest, by embracing the future with open arms, even in the face of uncertainty and pain. It wouldn't be easy, I knew, but I was determined to try—for Liam, and for myself.

And so, with a heavy heart and a newfound sense of purpose, I picked myself up off the ground and began to walk—away from the edge of the abyss, away from the darkness that had threatened to consume me, toward a future filled with possibility and hope.

It wouldn't happen overnight, I knew. The road ahead would be long and difficult, fraught with challenges and setbacks that would test my resolve at every turn. But I was ready—ready to face whatever the future held, armed with nothing but my love for Liam and the knowledge that he would always be with me, guiding me every step of the way.

And as I walked, the darkness began to recede, slowly but surely, replaced by the warm glow of dawn breaking on the horizon. I smiled, tears still streaming down my face, but now they were tears of hope, of gratitude, of a newfound sense of purpose.

For even though Liam was gone, his love remained—a beacon of light that would guide me through the darkest nights and lead me toward a future filled with possibility and promise.

And with that thought in my heart, I took my first steps into the unknown, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead, secure in the knowledge that I would never truly be alone. Liam would always be with me, a whisper in the wind, a flicker of light in the darkness, a love that would never fade away.

[dee-writes-smut]

.... I don't think I am ready to give up the Season's series just yet, especially since there was no smut scene at the end.

How are we feeling about a few.. extras? ;)

[dee-writes-smut]

LAZY MORNINGS

FEATURING Cassian x reader

SUMMARY lazy mornings, simple fights, and tender kisses; all gone, all lost without him.

CONTENT WARNINGS major character loss, depression, emotional descriptions of kissing (?)

AUTHORS NOTE happy 100 followers, here's some devastating angst as a thanks! Enjoy! :)

I wanted it all. The lazy mornings in bed, the fight over which movie to watch, the bumping into each other in their small kitchen. The disagreements and the tears and the kisses and their love. For once, I wanted to be selfish, and I wanted to have it all.

The transition from sleep to wakefulness was seamless with Cassian by my side. As the first tendrils of dawn painted soft hues across the room, I would stir from slumber, greeted by the comforting weight of his arm draped possessively over my waist. His warmth enveloped me, cocooning me in a sanctuary of bliss where time seemed to stand still.

In the quiet stillness of the morning, I savored the sensation of Cassian's breath against the nape of my neck, a gentle rhythm that mirrored the rise and fall of my own chest. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly laundered sheets to create an intoxicating bouquet that stirred something deep within me.

"Cassian," I would murmur, my voice still heavy with sleep, "just a few more minutes."

His response was a gentle hum, a silent affirmation of our shared desire to linger in this moment of tranquility a little while longer. With his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my skin, I would bury myself deeper into the folds of the sheets, reveling in the sensation of his steady breath against my skin.

Minutes stretched into eternity as we savored the simple pleasure of being together, the outside world fading into insignificance in the face of our shared intimacy. Each touch, each caress, spoke volumes, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never capture.

Eventually, the call of hunger would rouse us from our languid state, and we would stumble into the kitchen, limbs entwined and hearts full. The familiar rituals of breakfast became a dance of shared moments, each movement fluid and effortless as we navigated the space between us with practiced ease.

Cassian took charge of the coffee, his hands moving with precision as he measured out the perfect ratio of ground to water. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the scent of his cologne to form an irresistible blend that stirred something deep within me. Meanwhile, I busied myself with preparing the rest of our meal, slicing fruit with care and toasting bread to golden perfection.

The rhythmic clink of knives against cutting boards filled the air, a soothing melody that accompanied our shared silence. As we worked side by side, I couldn't help but marvel at the easy rhythm of our partnership, the way we moved in sync without needing to exchange a single word.

Breakfast would be a simple affair, yet it held a significance that transcended the mere act of nourishment. As we sat across from each other at the table, our eyes would meet in silent communion, words unnecessary as we shared the unspoken bond of love and understanding. But it was after breakfast, when we would return to the warmth of our bed, that the true magic would happen. We would lie there, limbs intertwined and hearts open, basking in the afterglow of our shared meal, lost in the sweet serenity of our love.

No relationship is without its rough patches, and ours was no exception. For all the lazy mornings and tender moments we shared, there were also moments of discord that tested the strength of our bond.

Our disagreements were fierce, fueled by passion and stubbornness. This particular argument had been brewing beneath the surface for weeks, simmering like a pot left unattended until it finally boiled over.

"It's not just about the mission, Cassian," I argued, my voice tinged with frustration. "It's about us. I can't keep pretending like everything's fine when it's not."

Cassian's expression hardened, his jaw tightening with tension. "This is bigger than us," he countered, his voice strained. "The Rebellion needs us. We can't afford to let personal feelings get in the way."

His words cut deep, slicing through the facade of composure I had been desperately clinging to. The weight of his duty hung heavy in the air between us, a constant reminder of the sacrifices we were both forced to make.

We clashed over matters of duty and sacrifice, our opposing viewpoints pulling us further apart with each passing moment. The tension in the room was palpable, like a taut rope ready to snap at any moment.

"I can't do this anymore," I would whisper, tears welling in my eyes. "I can't keep pretending like I'm okay with you risking your life every day."

Cassian's expression softened, a flicker of remorse crossing his features. "I know," he would reply, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't just walk away. You know that, sweetheart."

I would retreat into myself, the weight of our disagreement pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. Doubt crept into my mind, casting shadows on the once bright future we had envisioned together.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, there was also a glimmer of hope—a willingness to listen, to understand, and to forgive. We were two souls adrift in a sea of uncertainty, reaching out for each other in the hope of finding solid ground once more.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. "I'm scared, Cassian. I'm scared of losing you."

He would draw me into his arms, his touch a lifeline in the darkness. "I'm not going anywhere," he would assure me, his voice filled with determination. "We'll find a way through this, together."

In the quiet of the night, with our hearts laid bare and our fears exposed, we would find solace in each other's embrace. Our tears mingled together, a silent testament to the depth of our love and the pain we felt at the thought of losing each other.

And as the first light of dawn crept through the window, casting a soft glow over our entwined forms, we made a silent vow to do better—to communicate more openly, to listen more attentively, and to cherish each other with every breath we took.

Amidst the chaotic ebb and flow of our lives, there existed pockets of pure bliss—moments where time held its breath, and the clamor of the world melted away, leaving only the tender dance of our souls.

Our kisses were a language unto themselves, each touch a sonnet of desire and devotion, weaving a tapestry of unspoken vows and whispered confessions. In the sanctuary of our embraces, I found solace, as if the universe itself conspired to bring us together in perfect harmony.

His lips were an oasis, tender and yielding against mine, kindling a flame that surged through every fiber of my being, an inferno of passion that blazed brighter with each lingering caress. His touch was an electric current, coursing through me with a pulse of urgency and longing, binding us together in a symphony of sensation.

We stole kisses in the most unlikely of places, our love a secret shared with the world—a stolen moment in the bustle of a crowded street, a whispered promise beneath the moon's gentle gaze. Each kiss was a revelation, a testament to the depth of our connection and the fervor of our love.

But it was not merely the physical act of kissing that tethered us—it was the unspoken language of our hearts, a melody of longing and belonging that resonated with every touch, every brush of skin against skin. In the tender aftermath of our embraces, we lay intertwined, our breaths synchronized in the quiet cadence of the night, content to dwell in the sanctity of our shared affection.

Our kisses were a kaleidoscope of emotion, laughter bubbling up between stolen breaths, joy and mirth dancing in the spaces between our lips. Other times, they were a silent plea for reassurance, a whispered prayer against the uncertainties that lingered at the edges of our lives.

And as sleep eventually claimed us, cocooned in the warmth of each other's arms, I knew with unwavering certainty that I was exactly where I was meant to be—loved, cherished, and infinitely blessed by the presence of this extraordinary man in my life.

In the quiet moments of our intimacy, I could feel the weight of his love, an anchor grounding me amidst the tumultuous seas of life. With each kiss, it was as if the world around us faded into insignificance, leaving only the profound connection that bound us together.

Our kisses spoke volumes, conveying emotions too deep for words to articulate. They were a dance of vulnerability and trust, a testament to the depth of our bond and the strength of our commitment to each other.

As our lips met in silent communion, I felt a sense of belonging that transcended the physical realm, a profound knowing that in each other's arms, we had found our home. And in those stolen moments of intimacy, I vowed to cherish every kiss, every touch, as a precious gift from the universe—a reminder of the extraordinary love that bound us together, now and for eternity.

In the aftermath of Cassian's sacrifice for the Rebellion, I found myself adrift in a sea of memories—fragments of our love that seemed to shimmer and fade like distant stars in the night sky.

The lazy mornings in bed felt like a distant dream, a fleeting moment of bliss now shattered by the harsh reality of his absence. I could almost feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against my skin. But when I reached out, all I found was empty space—a cruel reminder of what we had lost.

The arguments over trivial matters echoed in the empty rooms of our home, their echoes bouncing off the walls like ghosts of our past. I could hear the frustration in his voice, the stubbornness in his stance, as we clashed over insignificant details that now seemed trivial in comparison to the gaping void left in his wake.

But amidst the echoes of our disagreements, there were also moments of laughter and joy, the playful banter that had once filled our home with warmth and light. I could almost hear his laughter ringing in my ears, see the mischievous glint in his eyes as we teased each other mercilessly. Those moments were a balm to my wounded soul, a reminder of the love that had once flourished between us.

Yet, even as I navigated the caverns of our shared memories, reality intruded in the form of his family, checking in with concern etched into their every word and gesture. They offered solace, companionship, and a shoulder to lean on, but I found myself retreating further into solitude, unable to bear the weight of their well-intentioned sympathy.

The stolen kisses filled with laughter and longing haunted me, their memory a bittersweet reminder of all that we had shared. I could almost taste the sweetness of his lips, the warmth of his embrace, as we had reveled in the simple pleasure of being together. But now, those moments felt like distant echoes, fading into the darkness like whispers carried away by the wind.

But most of all, I missed the feeling of being loved—truly and unconditionally, in a way that transcended words and defied explanation. I longed for the warmth of his touch, the strength of his embrace, the way he had looked at me as if I were the center of his universe. But now, all I felt was the cold emptiness of his absence—a void that seemed to stretch on for eternity, swallowing me whole.

As I traced the lines of his face in my mind's eye, I realized that I had taken our love for granted, assuming that it would always be there, steadfast and unchanging. But now, as I sat alone in the silence of our home, I understood that nothing in this world was permanent—not even love.

In the quiet moments of reflection, I found myself grappling with the realization that love, no matter how deep or enduring, was not immune to the passage of time or the cruel twists of fate. And yet, even as I mourned the loss of what once was, I couldn't help but cling to the hope that perhaps, somewhere out there in the vast expanse of the universe, our love still burned bright, a beacon of light in the darkness.

[dee-writes-smut]

Posting Days PT 2

Here's poll two!

[dee-writes-smut]

Posting days!

Hello everyone! I am currently working on a more consistent posting schedule and want to know what you all think! The time is TBD, but I am having you choose the days! (I will be posting 2 days a week, the day two poll will be up shortly)

[dee-writes-smut]

WARNING KEY:

A - angst

F - fluff

H/C - hurt and/or comfort

S - smut

D - dark content

Lazy Mornings | a, d (slight) | lazy mornings, simple fights, and tender kisses; all gone, all lost without him.

[dee-writes-smut]

Got anything you want to see?

I need some ideas! 💗

- Dee

[dee-writes-smut]

GOD HE CAN FUCK

The son of Helion, the sly fox, the man who can command an Illyrian soldier with one word, Elain Archeron's mate, Lucien "I'm a mated male" Vanserra, whatever you call him, he's HOT! Elain is one lucky lady

I pulled from several references of Lucien and sun gods to bring this vision to life. =D

[dee-writes-smut]

SUMMER

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY healing is a long journey that can't be summed up in just four simple seasons, but it seems with the help of a certain shadowsinger at your side, you've seemed to do it.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, Cassian POV, and mentions of wingspans ;)

AUTHORS NOTE the finale you've all been waiting for is finally here as promised! Thank you all so much for your support during this series, I am excited to be back and writing for you all again! Love you all and I hope you enjoy! <3

Summer arrives like a promise fulfilled, a canvas awash with vibrant hues of green and gold, as if nature herself has donned her finest attire. The air hums with the gentle whisper of transformation, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the promise of new beginnings on its warm breeze.

As the sun stretches its golden fingers across the land, casting long shadows that dance in its radiant glow, there's a palpable sense of rejuvenation in the air. It's as if each dawn heralds a new chapter, a chance to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the endless possibilities of the present.

In this season of abundance, life bursts forth with an exuberance that is both intoxicating and invigorating. The world awakens from its slumber, blossoming with a riot of colors as flowers unfurl their petals in joyful defiance of the lingering chill of winter. Leaves rustle in the gentle caress of the wind, their verdant whispers carrying tales of resilience and growth.

Amidst this symphony of nature's symphony, there is a sense of newfound strength coursing through every living thing. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the warmth of the sun infuses each day with a sense of possibility, igniting a fire within the soul that refuses to be extinguished.

In the heart of summer, time seems to slow, allowing moments to linger like the last rays of sunlight on a balmy evening. It's a season of exploration and adventure, where every day holds the promise of discovery and every sunset marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

And as the days stretch languidly into twilight, there is a quiet resilience that takes root, a deep-seated belief in the power of new beginnings and the strength that comes from embracing change. For in the heart of summer, beneath the sweltering heat and the endless blue skies, lies the untold promise of tomorrow, waiting to be seized with both hands and forged into something beautiful.

(Mid Summer, Velaris)

The afternoon sun poured into the training ring, casting long shadows of the figures sparring lightly within it. Cassian was across from me, a patient yet mischievous grin on his face, as he handed me a training sword. “Ready to get your ass kicked, or are you going to make me work for it today?”

I smirked, feeling the flutter of my old spirit stirring within. “Dream on, Cassian.”

The clash of our swords sang through the air, a melody of metal that resonated with the pounding of my heart. Each strike, each parry, felt like shedding layers of fear that had cocooned me since losing my wings.

“Focus,” Cassian said, his voice a mix of sternness and encouragement. “Remember, it’s not just about strength. It’s about knowing your opponent.”

I nodded, gripping my own wooden sword a little tighter. As I lunged forward, Cassian parried easily, countering with a swift movement that I barely blocked in time. We moved in a rhythm, the clack of our swords punctuating each maneuver. My muscles remembered the dance, even if they ached from disuse. Cassian’s style was a flurry of motion, designed to overwhelm, but today he tempered his usual ferocity, giving me room to find my footing again. The physical exertion was grounding, pulling me further away from my mental ghosts.

Laughter and shouts from Mor, watching from the sidelines, filled the arena, her cheers a buoyant soundtrack to our dance of blades and as we paused for a break, Mor jogged over with a waterskin and a smirk. She threw an arm around my shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Look at you! You’re almost back to your old self,” she beamed, her pride evident.

The warmth from her compliment soaked through me, loosening some of the tightness still lingering in my chest. “Feels good to move like that again,” I admitted, allowing the truth of my words to wash over me. It did feel good—like claiming back pieces of my soul, piece by piece.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” she smiled, squeezing me close again as she handed me the waterskin. After I took a long drink, she shot me a sly glance. “Speaking of fun, have you noticed how Azriel can't seem to stay away from your side?”

Mor’s eyebrows wiggled as I coughed on the water, wiping my mouth as I tried to compose myself. “He’s just being supportive,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Cassian chuckled, leaning on his sword. “Oh, he’s being supportive, all right. Haven’t seen him this glued to someone since… well, ever.”

I rolled my eyes, but the seed of awareness began to sprout in my mind. Azriel had indeed been a constant presence, his quiet strength a comfort I hadn’t realized I’d leaned on so much.

“Do you think it might be a mating bond?” Mor asked casually, too casually, as she inspected her nails.

The question halted me, the weight of the implication settling in my stomach like a stone. The mating bond was sacred, profound—was I ready for something like that? The very thought made my heart race, not just with fear but with a blossoming hope I hadn’t acknowledged until now.

“Maybe he’s just being a good friend,” I countered, but my voice lacked conviction.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “When you know, you know,” he said simply. “And it looks like you’re starting to realize something there.”

We resumed training, but his words echoed in my mind with each strike and block. Azriel’s face appeared in my thoughts, his smiles, the gentle touch of his hands, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me lately. My feelings for him, which I had shelved as mere gratitude or the simple need for companionship during recovery, seemed to be deepening into something richer, more profound.

As we finished and walked back towards the House of Wind, Mor looped her arm through mine. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she whispered. “But don’t close your heart to the possibility of something beautiful. Azriel cares for you deeply, more than just as a friend or protector.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow that bathed the world in a soft, forgiving light. It felt symbolic, reflective of my own internal dawn. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to consider that what lay between Azriel and me could be the kind of love that songs and tales were spun from. As fear and doubt receded, leaving room for this new, tender hope, I realized that my journey of healing was also leading me down a path of rediscovering my capacity to love—not just Azriel, but myself and this new life I was slowly, bravely building.

(Mid Summer, The River House)

That evening, the dinner with the Inner Circle was held at the sprawling, candlelit table in the River House. The atmosphere was thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of friendship and familial bonds. The windows were thrown open, allowing the crisp, cool air of Velaris to sweep through the room, mixing with the scent of jasmine and roasted meats.

As I entered the dining room, a subtle change in my demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by the group. Rhysand was the first to catch my eye, giving me a nod of approval and a warm, welcoming smile. Amren, ever observant, watched me with her piercing gaze, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, acknowledging the shift in my spirits.

Azriel, standing slightly apart, offered me a soft, encouraging smile as I took my place next to him. His quiet strength bolstered my newfound resolve to engage more fully with those around me.

Dinner began with a lively discussion led by Feyre about a recent exhibition at the art gallery in the city. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she described the vibrant colors and revolutionary techniques of the new artists showcased. I listened, chiming in with my thoughts on the integration of night and day themes, which earned an approving laugh from Rhys.

As the meal continued, Cassian, true to form, began recounting one of his training escapades, embellishing the details to make his tale more dramatic. “And then, just as I was about to execute my perfectly planned maneuver, an Illyrian baby sneezed on me. Totally threw off my game!”

Laughter erupted around the table, and I found myself genuinely chuckling, the sound surprising even to me. “Only you, Cassian, could be outmaneuvered by a baby’s sneeze,” I teased, earning a round of applause and a mock bow from Cassian.

“See, she’s got jokes now! Our girl’s coming back to us,” Mor exclaimed, her face alight with joy. She reached over to squeeze my hand, her gesture warm and reassuring.

As plates were cleared and desserts were served, the conversation shifted to lighter, more personal stories. Feyre shared anecdotes about her latest painting misadventures, while Mor detailed her plans for the upcoming festival in the city. Each story, each shared laugh, felt like a stitch mending the frayed edges of my soul.

As the dinner party began to wind down in the warm, laughter-filled hall, a soft coo from the corner caught my attention. Nyx, cradled gently in Feyre’s arms, was awake and curiously peeking over her shoulder with wide, starry eyes. I felt my heart tug softly. It had been too long since I had held him, too long since I’d allowed myself to be part of these simpler, beautiful family moments.

Feyre caught my gaze and smiled, understanding immediately. “Someone wants to say hello,” she said softly, walking over with Nyx. His small hand reached out, and I couldn’t help but smile as his fingers grasped at the air between us.

“May I?” I asked, my voice a whisper of excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty.

“Of course,” Feyre replied, carefully transferring Nyx into my arms. The baby settled against me with ease, a soft sigh escaping him as if he found comfort in my embrace. His tiny hand reached up, touching my cheek gently, an innocent gesture that felt like a reassurance of missed affection. It was as if he was saying he remembered me, that he too had felt the absence of our connection.

The moment wasn’t lost on Azriel, who watched from a short distance. His shadows flickered subtly around him, a telltale sign of his emotions stirring beneath that calm exterior. Since the conversation with Cassian and Mor earlier today, every glance, every small interaction with him seemed charged with a new, silent tension. My newly admitted feelings for him amplified each shared look, adding weight to the air between us.

As I rocked Nyx gently, my thoughts drifted to Azriel again. His presence at my side had become a constant, his support unwavering. The depth of my affection for him had crept up silently, weaving itself into the fabric of my daily life until it was indistinguishable from my other truths. I found myself stealing glances at him, each look a quiet confession of the feelings I was only beginning to allow myself to acknowledge.

Azriel eventually made his way over, his gaze softening as he looked at Nyx in my arms. “He’s missed you,” Azriel murmured, his voice barely audible over the low hum of conversation around us.

I met his eyes, feeling a flush of warmth at the intimacy of the moment. “I’ve missed him, too. Missed all of this,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. The way Azriel looked at me then, with such warmth and depth, made my heart skip a beat.

“Looks good on you,” he said after a pause, nodding towards Nyx.

The comment, simple and offhand, thrummed with unspoken meanings. It was a nudge against the boundaries we had maintained, a gentle probing into the new spaces of my heart that had begun to open to him.

As I handed Nyx back to Feyre, I caught Azriel’s arm gently. “Stay for a moment?” I asked, my voice hopeful, laden with the weight of all the things I hadn’t yet said.

He nodded, his usual reserve melting away for a moment as he stayed by my side, his presence a silent promise of things perhaps soon to be explored. We both knew something unspoken was shifting between us, and while neither of us was ready to dive into those waters just yet, acknowledging it—even in silence—felt like the first step toward a new horizon.

(Mid Summer, The House of Wind)

The following week, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, and I revived our "book club"—a ruse for nights filled with wine, wild discussions about our latest reads, and shared secrets under the cloak of night. As I sat curled up on a plush couch, a glass of wine in hand, surrounded by these incredible women, a profound sense of belonging enveloped me. Here, in these moments, I was safe to just be; to heal, to laugh, to grow.

The cozy nook tucked away in the House of Wind had become our sanctuary, a place where the Inner Circle’s book club convened to discuss literature, life, and everything in between. Tonight, as the flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the room, I settled into my usual spot among the plush cushions, surrounded by my closest friends.

Feyre, Nesta, and Mor lounged around me, each with a book in hand, their faces alight with anticipation for our weekly gathering. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, the air buzzing with the promise of lively conversation and shared insights.

“So, what’s everyone reading this week?” Mor asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced around the circle.

Feyre held up a worn copy of her latest find, a tale of forbidden love and political intrigue. “I’m revisiting an old favorite,” she said with a smile. “It’s like catching up with an old friend.”

Nesta, with a smirk playing on her lips, produced a rather scandalous-looking novel with a provocative cover. “I’m exploring the more… sensual side of literature,” she declared, her voice dripping with amusement.

As the conversation flowed around me, I couldn’t help but chuckle at Nesta’s choice. Leave it to her to bring a little spice to our book club discussions. I was hesitant to share tonight, scared to share my feelings so blatantly, to say them out loud in a space with women who would not so soon let me forget. Tonight felt different, though, I felt stronger, able to seize this chance to share with my friends the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

“I’ve been reading this collection of poetry,” I began, my voice tentative at first. “It’s funny how words can capture the complexity of human emotions so beautifully.”

Mor’s eyes gleamed with interest, her grin widening. “Ah, poetry—the language of the heart,” she said, her tone teasing yet tender. “Any particular poem speaking to you?”

I hesitated, my gaze flickering to the empty spot where Azriel usually sat. His absence was keenly felt, a reminder of the unresolved tension between us. “There’s one poem that resonates with me,” I admitted, my voice growing stronger with each word. “It’s about…” I faltered, the weight of my confession heavy on my tongue.

Feyre leaned forward, her eyes warm with understanding. “About love?” she prompted gently, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine in silent support.

I nodded, the words spilling forth in a rush. “About love, and fear, and the courage to open your heart to someone—even when it scares you.”

Nesta regarded me with a thoughtful expression, her gaze piercing yet compassionate. “Love is a battlefield,” she said, her voice soft yet firm. “But sometimes, the greatest victories come from facing our fears head-on.”

Mor chimed in with her trademark humor, lightening the mood with a well-timed joke. “Who knew our stoic Shadowsinger had a soft spot for you?”

Feyre smiled knowingly, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe it’s time to confront the shadows and see what lies beneath.”

Nesta couldn’t resist adding her own brand of wit to the conversation. “Speaking of shadows,” she said with a sly grin, “has anyone else noticed Azriel’s wingspan lately?”

We all laughed at Nesta’s comment, the tension in the room dissipating as we embraced the camaraderie of our little gathering. Despite the challenges we faced, tonight was a reminder that with the support of friends, even the darkest shadows could be chased away.

As the evening wore on, our conversation drifted from books to more personal topics, each of us sharing snippets of our lives and experiences. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a chance to peel back the layers and reveal the raw truths hidden beneath.

Nesta, ever the enigma, shared tales of her latest adventures in the human lands, her sharp wit and cunning intellect shining through with every word.

Mor, always the life of the party, regaled us with stories of her escapades in the Court of Nightmares, her laughter contagious as she recounted her misadventures.

And Feyre, with her quiet strength and unwavering compassion, offered words of wisdom and encouragement, her presence a soothing balm to our troubled souls.

As for me, I found solace in their company, the weight of my burdens eased by the warmth of their friendship. In their laughter and shared moments, I found the courage to confront my fears and embrace the possibility of a brighter future.

And as the candles burned low and the night grew late, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I would face them with the unwavering support of my sisters by my side.

The support of the entire Inner Circle was a force as tangible as the magic that coursed through our veins—a constant, steadfast presence that fortified me against the darker moments. Their belief in me, their unyielding backing, gave me strength, and little by little, I began to feel not just the shadow of the person I once was, but someone stronger, resilient, reborn from adversity.

In these gatherings, these moments of shared vulnerability and joy, I was not just healing. I was transforming—emerging not how I was before the kidnapping, but perhaps even brighter, tempered by trials and warmed by the unwavering light of the family I chose and who had chosen me in return.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The night pressed heavily around the room, its silence a thick, oppressive blanket punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of Azriel beside me. In the comfort of his proximity, sleep had finally granted me a temporary reprieve from the relentless torment of my nightmares. Yet, the peace was fragile, vulnerable to the slightest disturbance—a reality proven as a sharp, inexplicable chill sliced through the room's stagnant warmth.

The temperature plummeted, wrapping its icy fingers around my spine, jolting me awake. My eyes flicked open, instantly scanning the familiar contours of the room bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight. Shadows clung to the walls like dark, silent sentinels until one stirred coalescing into a form far too human, far too familiar.

Lyris emerged from the darkness as though materializing from my deepest fears, his presence a tangible echo of past horrors. His eyes, sharp and merciless, locked onto mine with the precision of a hunter sighting its prey. The sheer malevolence in his gaze sent a visceral shudder through me, yet it was no longer solely fear that stirred within my veins. Anger, raw and blazing, kindled within, fueling a burgeoning defiance I hadn't known I possessed.

"Thinking you could escape me?" Lyris's voice was a venomous hiss, his form inching closer with predatory grace. His smirk was twisted, a grotesque mask of sadistic anticipation.

But then, with the seamless reflexes honed by centuries of battle, Azriel was between us. His body moved with lethal precision, his hand snapping out to seize Lyris by the wrist, halting his advance with unyielding strength. "She's under my protection," Azriel snarled, his voice a dangerous, low rumble. His other hand flicked to his side, the sound of steel sliding from leather slicing through the tension as he brandished a dagger, its blade catching the moon's silver light.

Lyris recoiled slightly, his eyes darting to the blade then back to Azriel’s unwavering stare. "You think you can keep her from her fate?" he spat, struggling against Azriel's iron grip.

“Her fate is her own, and you have no part in it,” Azriel retorted, his wings unfurling menacingly. The air around us thickened with dark, swirling shadows, responding to the raw power emanating from him. In that moment, he was not just my protector but an avenging angel cloaked in night's embrace.

The room filled with a heavy, expectant silence, thick with the weight of unspoken threats. Breaking the tension, I found my voice, though it trembled with the force of my emotions. "Where are my wings, Lyris?" The question tore from me, a desperate plea tangled with a demand.

"Your wings?" he mused mockingly, his eyes glinting with cruelty. "Such a precious prize… Let's just say they're kept in a place where they await their true destiny—far from your reach.”

"Give them back," Azriel demanded, his tone lethal, a stark contrast to the deceptive calm of his posture.

Lyris's laugh was cold and chilling, like the howl of the wind outside. "You overestimate your power here, shadow singer. I could take her now, and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

Azriel's response was swift and deadly serious. "Try it, and it will be the last thing you do." His wings unfurled dramatically as he snatched Lyris’ wrist in a powerful grip, the span of dark membrane filling the room with a sense of otherworldly power. The shadows around him deepened, swirling in response to his anger and the protective fury that laced every syllable.

The standoff stretched, a moment suspended in time where every breath, every heartbeat was laden with potential violence. Then, with a jerk, Lyris wrenched free, stepping back into the protective shroud of darkness. “She will never be free from me," he hissed, his presence oppressive, suffocating. "And neither will you."

Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he dissolved into shadows, leaving a cold void in his wake. His final words echoed ominously, a malevolent promise hanging in the air. As the immediate threat vanished, Azriel’s demeanor shifted, the lethal warrior receding to reveal his concern. He turned to me, his intense gaze softening. “Are you alright?” His voice was now a gentle whisper, a stark contrast to the deadly thunder from moments before.

I collapsed back against the pillows, my body trembling uncontrollably. The fear wasn't just about the physical presence of Lyris—it was the emotional and psychological terror, the deep scars he had left on my soul, that overwhelmed me.

Azriel sat beside me, enveloping me in his arms, his presence a solid, reassuring force against the lingering echoes of dread. "I'm here. You're safe," he murmured against my hair, his voice a soothing balm.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, sobs wracking my body as the terror slowly ebbed away, replaced by immense fatigue. "We have to get them back, Azriel. I need to feel whole again."

His embrace tightened, a silent promise of unyielding support. "We will," he assured me quietly. "No matter what it takes, we will bring them back.” He took a deep breath, his arms tightening around me as if he were scared that I might run from him. “Always, I will protect you. From him, from anyone who dares to threaten you,” he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. His wings, now gently wrapped around us, formed a cocoon that felt impenetrable.

Settling back against him, I allowed the warmth of his embrace to seep deeper into my bones, expelling the lingering chill of Lyris's visit. His presence was a bastion, within which I found not only protection but a profound sense of belonging.

As we lay back down, the room once again shrouded in the soothing silence of night, a new resolve fortified my spirit. Lyris had found me, yes, but he had not found me alone, nor would he ever. Azriel’s vow to protect me was more than a promise—it was a declaration, a sentinel set against the darkness, both within and without. As sleep beckoned once more, the shadows no longer seemed an ominous threat lurking in the corners but allies, guardians cloaked in the same darkness that wrapped around us, a shield against all that would do harm.

(Late Summer, Cassian)

The morning after Lyris's intrusion, the House of Wind seemed to hold its breath, an unspoken tension palpable in the air. Everyone had shared their worries for her, our friend who had clawed her way back from that bastard's torment. We all worried, we all loved her so greatly, enjoyed the way her presence warmed Azriel’s cold exterior and to see her fall back into that dark place she had fought her way out of, to take Azriel unknowingly with her again, it poured a dark sense of grief over the house.

But amidst the uncertainty, the deep seeded fear of losing our friend once more, there was a glimmer of light, a beacon of hope cutting through the darkness. Entering the kitchen, I was met with a scene that caught me off guard—our friend, her laughter ringing out like a bell as she shared a moment of levity with Azriel. It was a rare sight, one that stirred a mixture of surprise and quiet satisfaction within me.

Azriel, usually cloaked in shadows both literal and metaphorical, had a small, genuine smile playing at the corners of his lips. His usually guarded demeanor seemed to soften in her presence, and I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in the air between them.

Their interaction spoke volumes, a silent language of understanding and companionship that transcended words. Despite the trials they had faced, there was a sense of comfort and familiarity in their shared laughter, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the company of those we held dear.

As I joined them in the kitchen, a silent witness to their shared moment of joy, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the bond that had formed between them. Their friendship had weathered storms that would have broken lesser souls, and yet here they were, laughing together as if the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders.

And as I observed them, surrounded by the warmth of their laughter and the comfort of their companionship, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope for the future. For in the bond between her and Azriel, I saw strength, resilience, and the promise of brighter days ahead.

(Late Summer, The House of Wind)

The day had been long and daunting, with every passing moment feeling like a test of endurance. The worry from my friends was palpable, their concern etched into every glance and every word. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate their care—it was their hovering, their treating me like a fragile thing, that grated against my newfound sense of strength. But amidst it all, there was Azriel.

He stood as a steadfast anchor amidst the storm, a silent guardian who watched over me with unwavering determination. While others fretted and fussed, he remained at my side, a silent sentinel who seemed to understand without the need for words. His presence alone was enough to bolster my spirits, to remind me that I was not alone in this struggle.

Throughout the day, I found myself stealing glances at him, marveling at the depth of his care. How had I not noticed it before? His gaze lingered on me with a mixture of concern and understanding, his eyes a window to the depths of his soul. It was as if he saw straight through the facade I presented to the world, recognizing the strength within me even when I doubted it myself.

As evening descended and the weight of the day settled upon us, we retreated to the familiar sanctuary of my room. Azriel had made it his own, his presence a comforting presence in the darkness. The routine of preparing for bed had become second nature to us—changing into pajamas, brushing our teeth side by side, and slipping under the covers as Azriel performed his meticulous check of the room.

In the quiet moments before sleep claimed us, we lay in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for Azriel's unwavering support, for his steadfast presence that had seen me through the darkest of days. It was a bond forged in the crucible of adversity, a connection that defied explanation yet felt more real than anything I had ever known.

“Azriel?” I called softly into the night, my voice barely a whisper.

He turned to me, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. For a moment, we simply gazed at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. And then, with a small smile, he reached out, pulling me closer until I was nestled against his chest.

At that moment, as I lay nestled against Azriel's chest, something shifted between us—a subtle yet profound change that altered the very fabric of our connection. It was as if the air crackled with an invisible energy, a tangible tension that seemed to draw us closer together.

I felt it first, the unmistakable sensation of the mating bond snapping into place with a sudden clarity that took my breath away. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. The primal need to be close to him, to feel his presence as an extension of my own, suddenly made perfect sense.

And then, as if in response to my realization, Azriel let out a small gasp, his arms tightening around me with a fierce urgency that mirrored my own. It was a primal, instinctual reaction, as if some ancient part of him recognized the significance of this moment and refused to let me go.

In that instant, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, replaced by a profound sense of clarity and understanding. We were bound together, our souls intertwined in a way that transcended the physical realm. And as I gazed into Azriel's eyes, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united by the unbreakable bond that now bound us.

"I'll protect you, ensure you are safe and happy and loved," Azriel vowed, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around me like a warm embrace, promising sanctuary in the depths of his love.

Tears welled in my eyes as his words washed over me, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm my fragile resolve. "As will I," I replied, my voice trembling with the weight of my own commitment, my heart laid bare before him in a moment of raw vulnerability.

His eyes, pools of darkness tinged with golden fire, bore into mine with a fierce intensity, piercing through the walls I had built around my heart. "Throughout all the seasons you will be mine, if that is what you want?" His voice was a whisper, yet it echoed through the chambers of my soul, stirring something deep within me that I could no longer deny.

With a trembling breath, I reached out to him, my fingers trembling as they traced the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every scar, every shadow that danced across his skin. "There is no one else I would rather share them with," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, the truth of my words ringing out in the quiet room like a sacred vow.

And in that moment, as our souls intertwined in the golden threads of the mating bond, I felt a surge of emotion wash over me, overwhelming in its intensity. It was as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had been lifted from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that I had longed for all my life.

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the space between us as we stood on the precipice of eternity. In that sacred embrace, we found refuge from the storms that had battered our souls, forging a connection that would endure the trials of time. And as we surrendered to the pull of the mating bond, our hearts beat as one, a symphony of love and devotion that echoed through the halls of the House of Wind.

Together, we would face the challenges that lay ahead, our bond a beacon of hope in the darkness, guiding us through the labyrinth of life with unwavering strength and unwavering love.

For in each other's arms, we had found our home, our sanctuary, our forever. And as the night enveloped us in its embrace, we knew that no matter what trials awaited us, we would face them together, united in a love that was destined to last for all eternity.

[PREVIOUS]

[dee-writes-smut]

Are we getting the last part tn 🫶

Hello anon,

You are indeed getting the last part of the Seasons series tonight! I am actually currently adding final touches as we speak ;)

Keep an eye out for SUMMER, it should be released in the next hour or so.

Love you,

Dee.

UPDATE: here it is!

SUMMER

[dee-writes-smut]

I'M LATE, I KNOW!

I know! I know that I said I was going to upload the final part of the Season's series tonight, but I had a couple of essays due for some classes that took up all my editing time. I'm too tired to try and edit now, so I will be editing the final part and posting it by tomorrow night.

Please don't hate me!

-Dee

[dee-writes-smut]

A BITTER FAREWELL

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x reader

SUMMARY "why did you love me when you knew you would break me?"

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, break-ups, I think that's it

AUTHORS NOTE a short little fic to feed my beautiful little monsters until Friday <3. Enjoy the Eris angst my loves.

In the dimly lit chamber of the Autumn Court, the air hung heavy with tension as Eris Vanserra, the High Lord, stood before you, his usually composed demeanor shattered by the raw emotion in his voice. His words cut through the silence like a blade, each syllable laden with pain and longing.

"Why did you love me when you knew you would break me?" Eris's voice wavered; his heartache palpable as he struggled to contain the storm raging within him. His hands clenched tightly at his sides; his knuckles white with the effort to restrain the turmoil threatening to consume him.

Tears glistened in your eyes as you met his gaze, your own heart aching with the weight of his words. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to reach out to him, to ease the agony etched into his features, but you knew the truth would only deepen his wounds.

"I… you think I wanted this?" Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as you fought to find the strength to speak. "You think I wanted to hurt you, Eris?" The tears flowed freely now, tracing a path down your cheeks as you struggled to articulate the turmoil raging within your soul. "I wanted… I want you, Eris. More than anything. But I can't… I can't have you."

The admission hung heavy in the air, a tangible barrier between you and the man you loved. You longed to reach out, to bridge the distance that had grown between you, but the weight of duty and destiny pressed down upon you like a suffocating blanket.

Eris's expression softened, his features a mask of anguish as he took a step closer to you, his hand reaching out as if to touch you before faltering and falling back to his side. "I never wanted to cause you pain," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your own heart. "But I don't know how to be anything other than what I am."

A sob escaped your lips as you took a step forward, closing the distance between you until there was nothing but air and unspoken words separating you from the man you loved. "I don't know how to stop loving you," you whispered, your voice breaking as you reached out to him, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek.

But even as you longed to pull him close, to lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the reality of your forbidden love loomed large between you. You were from different worlds, bound by duty and honor to opposing sides of a war that threatened to tear the land apart.

And as the tears continued to fall, you knew that no matter how much you loved each other, the cruel hand of fate would always keep you apart, condemned to an eternity of longing and heartache in the shadow of what could never be.

"Where are you going to go now?" Eris's voice quivered, the weight of his sorrow heavy in the air, mingling with the tension that seemed to suffuse the very walls of the chamber. His eyes, once filled with determination and authority, now reflected only a profound sense of loss and desperation.

You turned away, unable to meet his gaze, unable to bear the agony that twisted his features. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to stay, to throw caution to the wind and surrender to the pull of his love. But the reality of your situation loomed large, an insurmountable barrier between you and the happiness you so desperately craved.

"I don't know," you confessed, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your own heart. "Anywhere but here."

Eris reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed against your arm, a desperate plea shining in his eyes. "Don't leave," he begged, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, don't leave me alone in this darkness."

Tears welled in your eyes as you met his gaze, the ache in your heart nearly unbearable as you struggled to find the words to ease his pain. "I have to," you whispered, your voice breaking as you fought to keep your composure. "For both of us."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, as you grappled with the enormity of what lay ahead. Each moment seemed to hang in the balance, teetering on the edge of despair and hope, longing and resignation.

And then, with one final, agonizing glance, you tore yourself away from him, your footsteps echoing in the empty chamber as you walked away, leaving behind the only man you had ever loved, condemned to a fate of solitude and regret in the wake of your forbidden love.

As you stepped out into the cold embrace of the night, the weight of your decision settled around you like a shroud, a constant reminder of the sacrifices you had made in the name of duty and honor. But even as you disappeared into the darkness, a glimmer of hope burned bright within your heart, a silent promise that someday, somehow, you would find your way back to each other, united in love and bound by destiny, forever entwined in the tapestry of fate.

[dee-writes-smut]

WARNING KEY:

A - angst

F - fluff

H/C - hurt and/or comfort

S - smut

D - dark content

A Bitter Farewell | a | "why did you love me when you knew you would break me?"

[dee-writes-smut]

FALL

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY after falling down a flight of stairs, you are forced to realize that you aren't alone and that it's time to start healing.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, nosy Rhys, Amren (she's a warning), and injuries

AUTHORS NOTE I kind of hate this a lot, but here is the third part of the Season's series, Fall. Hope you enjoy! <3

Autumn descends upon the world like a tender-hearted healer, enveloping all in its embrace of warmth and renewal. The air takes on a crisp clarity, carrying with it the subtle scent of earth and fallen leaves, a fragrance that whispers of new beginnings. Trees, once adorned in the lush greens of summer, now don their autumnal attire, each leaf a masterpiece of vibrant hues—amber, crimson, and gold—painting the landscape in a tapestry of healing colors.

As daylight wanes, the sun bathes the world in a soft, golden glow, casting long shadows that dance gracefully upon the earth. The breeze, gentle yet invigorating, rustles through the trees, a comforting melody that speaks of resilience and growth. With each step, fallen leaves crinkle beneath our feet, a soothing reminder of the cycle of life and the beauty found in letting go.

In the fall, nature herself undergoes a profound transformation, shedding the old to make way for the new. Trees release their leaves in a graceful dance of surrender, preparing for a period of rest and rejuvenation. Yet, even in this quietude, there is a vibrant energy that pulses through the air, a reminder that healing is not a passive act, but a journey of growth and renewal.

As I found myself immersing in the healing embrace of autumn, I was invited to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the beauty of transformation. Like the earth itself, I was reminded of my innate capacity to heal, to grow, and to emerge stronger and more vibrant than before. In the gentle caress of the autumn breeze, I found solace, strength, and the promise of new beginnings.

(Early September, House of Wind)

Morning light spilled through the windows of the House of Wind, painting the stairwell in hues of gold and amber. Each step I took down the winding staircase echoed softly, the sound muffled by the quiet of the early hour. Shadows danced along the walls, elongated and wavering, as if unsure of their own existence in the gentle glow of dawn.

As I descended, a flicker of movement caught my eye—a subtle shift in the darkness that should not have been there. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to look, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. The shadows seemed to solidify, taking shape in the form of a figure I knew all too well. It was Lyris, his smirk cruel and taunting, his blade gleaming with malice in the dim light.

Panic surged through me, my breath catching in my throat. It wasn't real, I told myself, but the terror it invoked was. Before I could react, before I could rationalize, my foot missed the next step. There was no time to regain my balance, no wings to unfurl and catch me. I reached out desperately, fingers grasping for the banister, but it was too late.

The world tilted violently as I fell, the sharp pain of impact shooting up my spine as I collided with the unforgiving stairs. Each jolt sent waves of agony coursing through me, my body bouncing helplessly until I finally came to a crumpled stop at the bottom of the staircase. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to gather my bearings, the pain a sharp, throbbing ache in every limb.

Footsteps echoed through the hall, growing louder with each passing second. Then, Azriel was there, his face a mask of concern as he knelt beside me. "Don't move," he said softly, his hands hovering over me with a hesitant touch. "We need to get you to the healer."

"I'm okay," I lied, attempting to push myself up despite the searing pain that shot through me. The room spun sickeningly, and I winced, sinking back down with a pained gasp.

"No, you're not," Azriel insisted, his voice firm but gentle. He assessed me quickly, his expression grave. "We need to get you off these stairs. Can you stand?"

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, frustration and pain mingling into a bitter concoction. "I don't… I can't…" I faltered, unable to voice the depth of my vulnerability.

"It's okay. I've got you." Azriel's arms enveloped me, lifting me gently from the cold, hard floor. I buried my face against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat amidst the chaos of my own.

As we moved, the memory of the fall replayed in my mind—the hallucination of Lyris, the terror of losing my footing. I had lost more than just my wings that day; I had lost a piece of myself. How was I supposed to heal when my own mind betrayed me with such vivid, haunting illusions?

Azriel's presence was a silent promise of protection, his concern a soothing balm to my fractured psyche. I clung to it, to him, as we made our way to the healer's chambers, the shadows of the stairwell receding into the background as we stepped into the light of a new day. I would allow myself to let him seep in my darkness for a moment. I would be selfish for just this moment and then it would be back to struggling alone, to protecting them, him.

Madja's room was filled with the subtle scent of lavender and sage, a calming ambiance that did little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The healer's hands were warm and gentle as she applied salves to the bruises that marbled my skin, her touch careful around the tender areas where my wings once were.

"You're healing well physically," Madja said softly, her voice soothing. "But healing the mind… that takes time, and often more than just my skills." She offered me a small, understanding smile, though her eyes were stern, hinting at the depth of her concern.

Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside. His expression was unreadable, shadows swirling slightly at his feet—a sure sign of his inner turmoil. Madja excused herself with a knowing look, leaving us alone.

I shifted on the cot, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I faced him. "Azriel," I began, but my voice cracked, betraying my nervousness.

He moved closer, his movements graceful and deliberate. Stopping at the edge of the cot, he knelt so he was eye level with me, his gaze intense. "I've been patient," he said, his voice low and strained. "I've given you space, but we can't keep avoiding this conversation."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I don't know if I'm ready," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before gently brushing a stray hair back from my face. "I know you're hurting. And I know I can't understand everything you're going through. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to go through this alone."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously. "It's not just the pain, Azriel. It's the fear," I confessed, the words tumbling out. "Every shadow, every noise—it takes me back to that moment. And I feel so powerless."

His expression softened, the shadows receding slightly as if in response to my distress. "I wish I could take that fear away," he murmured. "But since I can't, I'll stand with you against it. Every step of the way, until you feel strong again."

"How do you do it?" I asked, searching his face. "How do you live with your own shadows?"

A sad smile tugged at his lips. "By knowing which shadows are mine to control, and which are simply part of the world. And by having people I love to light the way when it gets too dark."

"What if I'm not strong enough?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy shroud. Despite my efforts to steel myself against the pain, I couldn't help but curl into myself, feeling small and vulnerable in the face of my own fears. "What if I never get over this and—" I choked back my tears once more, the fear gnawing at my insides too overwhelming to voice aloud.

Azriel's heart clenched at my words, the rawness of my pain mirroring his own. With aching tenderness, he reached out, his hand hovering over mine, a silent beacon of comfort in the darkness. "You are strong," he said softly, his voice a gentle reassurance. "Stronger than you realize. But even the strongest among us have moments of doubt, moments when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear."

My eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, sought solace in his unwavering gaze. "And if you never get over this… if the shadows linger longer than you'd like, know that you are not alone. We'll face them together, every step of the way."

The weight of my fear trembled through my shoulders; the depth of my anguish palpable in the air. "But what if I pull you all into it too?" I whispered, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "What if my darkness becomes yours?"

Azriel's heart ached at the thought, but he refused to let me drown in my despair. "Your darkness is not a burden," he said, his voice steady, unwavering. "It's a part of you, just as much as your light. And I would walk through the darkest of nights if it meant I could stand beside you."

He reached for my hand, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring me to the present moment. "Let me help you carry this weight," he urged, his eyes locking with mine. "Let us carry it together."

For a moment, there was only silence—a heavy, pregnant pause that hung between us, charged with unspoken emotions. And then, with a shaky breath, I nodded, my grip tightening around his hand as if anchoring myself to his steadfast presence.

In that moment, as we sat together in the quiet sanctuary of Madja's room, surrounded by the gentle scent of herbs and healing, Azriel felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. No matter how dark the path ahead, no matter how daunting the shadows that loomed on the horizon, we would face them together. And with love as our guiding light, we would find our way back to the warmth of the sun.

(Mid-October, River House)

The air in the room seemed to hold its breath as I gathered the courage to speak, surrounded by the Inner Circle whose presence felt both comforting and daunting. Cassian's warm gaze, Nesta's softened expression, Rhys and Feyre's silent solidarity, Amren's unreadable yet somehow reassuring presence, and Mor's gentle smile—all of them were a testament to the depth of their care.

With Azriel standing at my side, his silent support a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions, I began to speak. My voice, though laced with uncertainty, carried the weight of my sincerity as I addressed them.

"I want to apologize," I began, each word heavy with meaning as I met their eyes, one by one. "For the distance I've kept, for the walls I've built around myself. I've been… cold, and for that, I'm truly sorry.

A hushed tension hung in the air, anticipation mingling with apprehension as they waited for me to continue. But instead of judgment or reproach, I found only understanding in their expressions—compassion and empathy reflected in their unwavering gazes.

"I'm ready to try," I confessed, the admission a revelation in itself. "To try again.. To heal."

Cassian's hand found mine, his touch grounding and reassuring as he squeezed gently. "We're here for you," he declared, his voice a solemn vow. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it."

Nesta's usually sharp gaze softened, her features etched with genuine concern. "We've missed you," she admitted, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "But we understand. And we'll stand by you, no matter what."

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a silent glance, their unity a beacon of strength amidst the uncertainty. "You're not alone," Rhys affirmed, his voice steady and resolute. "We'll face this together, as a family."

Amren nodded curtly, her demeanor as inscrutable as ever, yet there was a glimmer of warmth in her eyes that spoke volumes. "Don't make a habit of apologizing," she quipped dryly, a subtle reassurance in her words.

Mor's smile was gentle, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf me. "We love you," she said simply, her words a promise of unwavering support.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I absorbed their words, the weight of their acceptance washing over me like a tidal wave. In that moment, surrounded by the love and understanding of my chosen family, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me yet.

With Azriel's hand firmly clasped in mine, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the arduous journey ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road to recovery would be fraught with challenges. But with the unwavering support of those who loved me, I knew I could face whatever lay ahead.

Night after night, the nightmares clawed their way into my sleep, tearing through the fragile fabric of my dreams with merciless intensity. Each time, I would wake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in my chest, lungs gasping for air as if I'd been drowning in the darkness of my own mind.

Azriel had been there from the beginning, his quiet presence a steadfast anchor in the storm of my nightmares. At first, he would come at the sound of my screams, offering comfort and reassurance until the tremors subsided and sleep reclaimed me once more. But as the nights stretched on and the nightmares showed no signs of abating, his visits became more frequent, his presence a comforting constant in the ever-shifting landscape of my dreams.

I would wake to find him sitting beside my bed, his gaze watchful and protective as he kept vigil over my troubled sleep. His presence was a balm to my fractured mind, a beacon of light in the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume me.

At first, I protested his presence, insisting that he had better things to do than waste his nights sitting by my bedside. But he brushed off my protests with a quiet determination, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. He didn't need words to convey the truth—that he would stay for as long as I needed him, no matter the cost.

And so, night after night, I would wake to find him there, his presence a silent reassurance that I was not alone in my suffering. With each passing night, his visits became longer, his presence more palpable until it felt as though he had practically moved into my room.

I would wake to the soft sound of his breathing, the warmth of his presence a comforting weight beside me. His steady heartbeat echoed in the silence of the night, a rhythmic cadence that anchored me to the present moment.

In those quiet hours before dawn, with the weight of his presence beside me, I found solace in the knowledge that I was not alone. No matter how dark the night, no matter how terrifying the nightmares that plagued my sleep, Azriel was there, a silent guardian watching over me until the first light of dawn chased the shadows away. And for that, I was endlessly grateful.

(Late October, River House)

As Azriel sat across from Rhysand, the weight of the conversation about you felt even heavier upon his shoulders. His mind flickered back to the recent events—the trauma you had endured, the pain etched into your every expression, and the way you had leaned on him for support during your darkest moments.

"I've noticed the way you look at her, Az," Rhys's voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. "And I can't help but wonder… Are you two… a thing?"

Azriel's gaze softened with a mix of fondness and concern as he thought of you. "I… I care about her deeply," he confessed quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. "Especially now, after everything she's been through."

Rhys nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding. "I know you've been by her side through it all, Az. And I'm grateful for that. How is she holding up?"

The concern in Rhys's voice mirrored Azriel's own worries. Your recovery had been slow and arduous, marked by moments of progress followed by setbacks. Azriel had been there every step of the way, offering his support and comfort whenever you needed it most.

"She's… she's trying her best," Azriel replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But the kidnapping still weighs heavily on her. Some days are better than others."

Rhys reached out a hand, placing it reassuringly on Azriel's shoulder. "You're doing everything you can for her, Az. And she knows that. Just keep being there for her, okay?"

Azriel nodded, gratitude swelling within him for Rhys's words of encouragement. Despite the challenges they faced, he was determined to stand by your side, offering you whatever solace and support he could provide.

As they parted ways, Azriel's thoughts remained with you—the strength you had shown in the face of adversity, the resilience that burned bright within you. And though he knew that your path to recovery would be a long and difficult one, he vowed to walk it with you every step of the way, for you had become more than just someone he cared about—you were his guiding light in the darkness, his reason to hope for a brighter tomorrow.

(Late November, Velaris)

Stepping beyond the familiar walls of the House of Wind felt like a liberation, a triumph over the shadows that had threatened to consume me. As I walked alongside Feyre and Mor, the streets of Velaris buzzed with life, each step forward a testament to the strength I had found within myself.

Beside me, Azriel's concern was evident, his worry etched in the furrow of his brow and the gentle pressure of his hand in mine. But this time, I was determined to show him—and myself—that I was stronger than the nightmares that haunted me.

"Don't worry, Az," I said with a reassuring smile, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm ready for this. Feyre and Mor are with me."

Feyre and Mor nodded in agreement; their expressions filled with confidence. "We've got your back," Feyre said with a reassuring smile. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Their words filled me with a sense of reassurance, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this journey. With their support, I felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As we walked through the bustling streets of Velaris, I couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through me. The sun warmed my skin, the wind tousled my hair, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt truly alive.

But amidst the excitement, a part of me couldn't shake the worry that lingered in Azriel's eyes. I knew he cared about me deeply, and the thought of causing him any more pain weighed heavily on my heart.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked quietly, his concern palpable. "We can turn back if you're not feeling well."

I met his gaze with determination, my resolve unwavering. "I'm more than ready, Az," I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I've spent too long hiding away. It's time for me to start living again."

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[dee-writes-smut]

hey love ! i just wanted to message you and let you know that the links on your navigation (masterlist & series) aren’t working. no biggie, i just clicked on them to see your works and noticed it ! have a phenomenal day !

Thank you, darling!

I have been struggling with my links suddenly not working every time I make a new post?? I don’t know if this is just a me thing or a tumblr thing, but if anyone knows how to help, it would be much appreciated 😅

Love you!

[dee-writes-smut]

WINTER

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY in the aftermath of your kidnapping, you find it harder than normal to cope and continue on with life, causing you to push the people closest to you away. (THIS IS A PART TWO)

CONTENT WARNINGS descriptions of injuries, pain, torture, severe depression, and PTSD. If you thought the last one was dark, buckle up.

AUTHORS NOTE wow, three fics in two days?! What happened to me? I have just been super motivated to write creatively recently, which is exciting! So here, enjoy the second part of the Season's series, Winter.

Winter's embrace was a bleak grip, the world laying shrouded in a suffocating blanket of ice and snow, each flake a cruel reminder of nature's indifference. The landscape stretched out before you like a desolate wasteland, barren trees reaching up like skeletal fingers towards a sky heavy with the promise of more bitter cold to come. There was no warmth to be found here, only the biting chill that gnawed at your bones and numbed your very soul.

Gone were the vibrant colors and lively sounds of spring, replaced instead by a deafening silence broken only by the hollow howl of the wind as it whipped through the skeletal remains of once-thriving forests. The air was thick with a palpable sense of despair, each breath a struggle against the icy grip of despair that threatened to crush you under its weight.

As you trudged through the snow, each step felt like a punishment, a relentless march towards an uncertain fate. The landscape seemed to taunt you with its emptiness, a cruel reminder of the futility of your existence in a world so devoid of life and hope. Shadows danced across the frozen ground, twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes that seemed to mock your very presence.

And yet, amidst the desolation, there was a perverse beauty to be found – in the stark contrast of black against white, in the delicate lacework of frost that adorned the barren branches, in the eerie stillness that hung heavy in the air like a shroud. It was a beauty born of darkness, a twisted reflection of the cruel whims of fate that had brought you to this forsaken place.

In the heart of winter's icy grip, you found yourself consumed by a sense of isolation and despair, a prisoner in a world that had long since abandoned any pretense of kindness or compassion. It was a season of suffering, of unrelenting cruelty, of darkness so deep that even the faintest glimmer of hope seemed but a distant memory. And as the cold crept ever closer, you couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be an end to the endless winter that had consumed your very soul.

(Wintertime, Velaris)

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, I sat alone on the edge of my bed, my gaze fixed on the empty space where my wings used to be. The pain, both physical and emotional, gnawed at me like a relentless predator, sinking its claws deep into my chest, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. My once majestic wings, the very essence of my being, were gone, severed from my body by those who sought to break my spirit.

With trembling hands, I traced the scars where my wings had been, feeling the phantom sensation of membrane-like skin against my fingertips. The memory of their hard, bone-like ridges, their graceful span; it lingered like a bittersweet melody, haunting yet achingly beautiful. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the world around me with their shimmering veil, but I refused to let them fall. Crying felt like admitting defeat, acknowledging just how shattered I truly was. So instead, I pushed the pain down, burying it deep within me, where no one could see.

But the emptiness inside me was a vast abyss, yawning wide and hungry, impossible to ignore. I had always prided myself on my resilience, my strength, but now I felt like a mere husk of my former self. The trauma of my kidnapping weighed upon my mind like a heavy shroud, casting shadows that danced and twisted in the corners of my consciousness.

As the days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, I withdrew further into myself, cocooning my heart in layers of solitude and silence. The world outside seemed distant and hazy, a blurred landscape of faces and voices that I could no longer connect with. I couldn't bear the pity in their eyes, the whispered words of sympathy that fell like stones upon my wounded soul. So, I built walls around my heart, brick by brick, until I was encased in a fortress of my own making, impervious to the outside world.

Even Azriel, my steadfast companion, my unwavering ally, found himself barred from the inner sanctum of my heart. He tried to reach me, to break through the barriers I had erected, but I turned away, unable to bear the thought of exposing my vulnerability to anyone, even him. I didn't want their pity or their well-meaning words. All I wanted was to be left alone with my pain, to drown in it until it consumed me completely.

But even in my darkest moments, a flicker of hope danced on the periphery of my consciousness, a tiny flame that refused to be extinguished. It whispered of resilience and redemption, of healing and renewal, but I pushed it away, hiding from its warmth like a frightened child. For now, I would remain adrift in a sea of darkness, lost and alone, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that promised a way out of the abyss.

The memories played out in my mind with vivid intensity, each scene etched into my consciousness like a brand of torment.

I remembered the moment I was jolted from unconsciousness, the harsh voice of my captor slicing through the haze like a blade. "Wake up, whore," he hissed, sending a shiver down my spine and igniting a primal fear within me. Blinking against the darkness that enveloped me, I felt the oppressive weight of a bag over my head, suffocating and disorienting. Panic surged through me as I realized my bound state, my struggles against the restraints futile in the face of impending doom.

The voice, dripping with malice, mocked my defiance. "No need to struggle, sweetheart," he sneered, his words a cruel reminder of my helplessness. As I strained to make sense of my surroundings, fear clawed its way through my throat, leaving behind deep grooves of despair. The familiar scent of damp earth and mildew filled my senses, a chilling reminder of the unknown horrors that awaited me.

A flicker of hope emerged in the form of Azriel, my steadfast protector, but it was quickly extinguished by the looming presence of Lyris, a childhood friend turned tormentor. His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he brandished a dagger, the cold metal glinting ominously in the dim light.

With a cruel smirk, Lyris descended upon me, his voice filled with twisted pleasure. "Time to finally take what's mine," he taunted, the blade poised to inflict unimaginable pain.

The first cut tore through me like a bolt of lightning, a searing agony that ripped through flesh and soul alike. My cries echoed off the walls of the chamber, lost in the darkness that enveloped me.

But the torment did not end there. With each merciless stroke of the blade, Lyris carved away my very essence, leaving behind a shattered shell of my former self. I watched helplessly as my wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, were mutilated and discarded like worthless scraps of flesh.

And as the last remnants of my identity fell away, a hollow emptiness consumed me, leaving behind only the cruel scars of my torment. I was no longer whole, no longer the person I once was. I had been robbed of everything that defined me, my essence stolen by the darkness that lurked within the depths of my captor's soul.

As the soft rap echoed through the hollow corridors, it felt like a distant echo of a life I once knew, one filled with warmth and camaraderie. Reluctantly, I approached the door, each step heavy with the weight of my turmoil, the heavy thud of my heart matching the rhythm of my footfalls.

Feyre stood there, framed by the soft glow of the hallway lanterns, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the bonds I had once cherished. In her hands, she cradled a delicate tray, a small offering of sustenance amidst the darkness that engulfed me.

"I brought you some food," she offered, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room, a fragile thread of connection in the vast expanse of my solitude. "I thought you might be hungry."

My response was curt, a reflexive defense against the vulnerability her kindness exposed. "I don't need your pity, Feyre," I retorted, the bitterness in my voice a stark contrast to the warmth of her offering. "I can take care of myself."

For a fleeting moment, hurt flickered in her eyes, a silent plea for understanding that cut through the barriers I had erected around my wounded heart. But she quickly masked it with a forced smile, her resilience a testament to the depth of her compassion.

Without another word, she set the tray down on the table beside me, the scent of warm food mingling with the heavy silence that enveloped us. It was a gesture of kindness in a world that had grown cold and indifferent, a fleeting glimpse of the friendship I had once treasured.

As Feyre lingered in the doorway, her gaze lingered on mine with a quiet intensity, a silent invitation to let her in, to share the burden of my pain. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked, her voice a gentle reminder that I was not alone, that there were still those who cared enough to reach out a helping hand.

But I shook my head, my walls still firmly in place, my pride a shield against the vulnerability her presence exposed. "No," I replied curtly, my voice a harsh echo of the emptiness that echoed within me.

With a nod of understanding, Feyre turned to leave, the weight of her disappointment a heavy burden on my already burdened soul. And as the door closed behind her, I was left alone once more, the silence of the empty room a stark reminder of the walls I had built to keep the world at bay.

The evening air was thick with the scent of spices and laughter as I made my way through the bustling streets of Velaris, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm hue over the cobblestone pathways. Each step felt heavy, burdened by the weight of my own thoughts, as I navigated the vibrant tapestry of the Night Court.

Amidst the lively chatter and cheerful bustle of the city, familiar voices pierced through the haze of my melancholy. Mor's vibrant laughter echoed through the air, drawing my gaze towards her radiant figure standing across the street. Beside her, Cassian, his presence as imposing as ever, offered a welcoming grin that tugged at the corners of my lips despite my inner turmoil.

"Hey, there she is!" Mor's voice carried on the breeze, her smile bright as she beckoned me over. "Come join us!"

Cassian's invitation followed, his boisterous enthusiasm contagious as he gestured towards the tavern. "We're heading for a drink. You should come with us."

My heart clenched at the genuine warmth in their gestures, a stark contrast to the icy grip of my own despair. The desire to lose myself in their company, if only for a fleeting moment, warred with the overwhelming sense of unworthiness that gnawed at my soul.

But as Mor reached out to take my hand, her touch a gentle reminder of the bond we shared, a surge of jealousy and resentment swept through me. My gaze flickered to Cassian, his powerful wings a constant reminder of everything I had lost. Anger boiled within me, bitter and consuming, as I struggled to suppress the envy that threatened to engulf me. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll pass," I managed to say, my voice betraying a hint of regret. "I'm not really in the mood for drinking tonight."

Mor's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of concern crossing her features before she masked it with reassurance. "That's okay," she said softly, her words a soothing balm to the ache in my heart. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us."

With a nod of understanding, I watched as they disappeared into the throng of revelers, their laughter fading into the night. Left alone on the deserted street, the weight of my solitude pressed heavily upon me, a reminder of the chasm that separated me from the warmth of their companionship. As the echoes of their laughter dissolved into the stillness of the night, I couldn't shake the pang of resentment that lingered in my chest. But even amidst the darkness of my despair, I knew that I couldn't risk dragging my friends down with me. So, with a heavy heart, I turned away, retreating into the shadows once more, the silence of the night swallowing me whole.

The faint glow of moonlight, a silver cascade, filtered through the windows, casting ethereal patterns across the dimly lit kitchen of the Night Court's sprawling estate. I stood amidst the chaos, surrounded by a haphazard array of pots, pans, and ingredients scattered across the countertops. My attempt at cooking had quickly spiraled into a messy disaster, each failed endeavor only serving to fuel my frustration further.

As I grappled with the stubborn lid of a jar, a voice sliced through the silence, its presence both unexpected and unwelcome.

"What in the world are you doing?"

Startled, I turned to find Rhysand standing in the doorway, his silhouette a stark contrast against the luminescent backdrop. His wings, a breathtaking display of power and grace, unfurled behind him like the majestic sails of a ship, the membrane-like skin gleaming in the moonlight. They seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, each beat a testament to the freedom and strength they embodied. My heart clenched at the sight, a bitter pang of jealousy twisting in the depths of my soul. Once, I had known that same sense of freedom, had soared through the skies with effortless grace, my wings slicing through the air like a blade through silk. But now, they were gone, cruelly ripped from my back by those who sought to break me.

An ache, dull and persistent, throbbed in the space where my wings had once been, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. I longed to feel the wind beneath me, to taste the exhilarating rush of flight once more, but it was nothing more than a distant dream, forever out of reach.

"None of your business," I snapped, my voice a whipcrack of frustration, my fingers still wrestling with the stubborn jar lid. The last thing I needed was his pity, his condescending attempts to help when I clearly didn't want it.

Rhysand's gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he approached with cautious steps, his movements a ballet of grace. "You're making quite a mess," he observed, his voice gentle but firm, like the soothing murmur of a distant stream. "Let me help you."

I recoiled from his touch, the anger bubbling to the surface like molten lava erupting from the depths of the earth. "I don't need your help," I spat, my voice tinged with venom, the bitterness like bile in my throat. "I don't need anyone."

There was a brief pause, a pregnant silence hanging heavy in the air as Rhysand regarded me with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "You're clearly upset," he said softly, his words a gentle caress against the storm raging within me. "Let me help you. Let us help you."

But I refused to listen, the tempest of my emotions raging unabated, the walls around my heart fortified against any intrusion. With a strangled cry of frustration, I shoved past him and fled from the room, the echoes of his words following me like a haunting refrain, the cadence of his footsteps a melancholy echo in the corridors of my mind.

Alone in the sanctuary of my darkened chamber, I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of my own solitude pressing down upon me like a suffocating avalanche. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I buried my face in the pillows, the emptiness consuming me like a ravenous beast, its jaws gnashing at the frayed edges of my soul.

"Mind if I join you?"

Nesta's voice broke through the silence, her presence a welcome intrusion in the stillness of the night. I turned to face her, my expression guarded and wary, unsure of what to expect. She stepped onto the balcony, her graceful movements a stark contrast to the heaviness that weighed upon my own shoulders. There was a quiet understanding in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lingered beneath the surface.

"I know what it's like," she said softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet expanse of the night. "To push people away, to build walls around your heart so high that no one can reach you."

I bristled at her words, the anger and resentment bubbling to the surface like a dormant volcano awakening from its slumber. How dare she presume to understand the depths of my despair, the darkness that threatened to consume me from within?

"You have no idea what I'm going through," I snapped, my voice tinged with bitterness. "You have Cassian, you have someone who loves you unconditionally. I have no one."

Nesta's gaze softened, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she reached out to take my hand. "I may have Cassian, but that doesn't mean I haven't faced my own demons," she said gently. "I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in darkness, to feel like there's no way out."

I recoiled from her touch, the walls around my heart growing ever taller with each passing moment. "I don't need your pity," I retorted, my voice laced with venom. "I don't need anyone."

Nesta's expression faltered for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masked it with a steely resolve. "Fine," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "But just know that I'm here if you ever change your mind. No judgments, no expectations. Just someone who understands." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own sorrow.

The library exuded an atmosphere of solemn tranquility, its shelves adorned with ancient tomes and illuminated by the soft glow of flickering candles. I sat ensconced amidst the towering pillars of knowledge, a solitary figure in the midst of a vast sea of wisdom, my thoughts tumultuous and unruly.

"I’m joining you.”

The voice, sharp and unwavering, pierced the silence like a dagger, its intrusion disrupting the fragile peace that had settled over the room. Startled, I glanced up to find Amren standing before me, her gaze penetrating and incisive, cutting through the veil of my solitude with unnerving precision.

"Fine," I sighed, my voice tinged with resignation as I gestured for her to take a seat. Amren wasted no time in settling herself across from me, her movements fluid and purposeful, her eyes fixed upon me with an intensity that made me squirm.

"You look like hell," she remarked bluntly, her words a harsh echo in the stillness of the library.

I bristled at her candor, the urge to lash out bubbling up from the depths of my despair like a tempest on the horizon. But there was something in Amren's gaze, a glimmer of genuine concern beneath the steely facade, that gave me pause. She wasn't asking out of idle curiosity; she genuinely wanted to understand the turmoil that churned within me.

"It's nothing," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I averted my gaze, unwilling to meet her probing stare.

Amren snorted in disbelief, her lips curling into a sardonic smile as she leaned forward, her eyes boring into mine with unrelenting intensity. "Don't give me that bullshit," she retorted, her tone sharp and unyielding. "I may not be the touchy-feely type, but even I can see that something's eating you alive."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing with each passing moment as I struggled to find the words to express the depth of my despair. But before I could respond, Amren reached out and grasped my hand, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the steel in her eyes. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through," she said softly, her voice a quiet reassurance in the stillness of the library. "But I do know one thing: you don't have to face it alone. We're your friends, and we're here for you, no matter what."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and stinging, as I looked into Amren's unwavering gaze. In that moment, I realized that she was right. I didn't have to carry the weight of my despair alone. I had friends who cared about me, who were willing to stand by my side through the darkest of times. But even as the realization washed over me like a tidal wave, a part of me rebelled against the idea of letting them in. The walls around my heart, built brick by brick in an attempt to shield myself from further pain, felt impenetrable, insurmountable.

With a trembling breath, I pulled my hand away from Amren's grasp, my movements abrupt and jerky. "I don't need your help," I said, my voice strained with emotion. "I don't need anyone."

Amren's expression hardened, her eyes flashing with barely concealed anger as she stared at me, incredulous. "You're a fool if you think you can face this alone," she spat, her voice cold and cutting. "But fine, if that's how you want it. Just know that when you finally come crawling back, don't expect us to welcome you with open arms."

And with that, she rose from her seat and stormed from the room, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own despair. Even as the silence settled around me like a suffocating blanket, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at my soul

As the twilight descended, casting its ethereal veil over the Night Court's training grounds, I found myself standing alone at the edge of the courtyard, my heart heavy with the burden of my own anguish. The fading light painted the world in hues of amber and indigo, a melancholy backdrop to the tempest raging within.

With measured steps, Azriel approached, his presence a soothing balm amidst the chaos of my emotions. His silhouette merged with the shadows, his eyes alight with concern as he drew near. "Are you alright?" His voice, a tender caress against the backdrop of the evening's symphony, reached out to me, offering solace in the darkness.

I turned to face him, my heart aching with the weight of unspoken words, the tumult of my soul laid bare in the vulnerability of my gaze. "Do I look alright?" I whispered, the bitterness of my sorrow echoing in the stillness of the night. "Do I seem like someone who has it all together?"

Azriel's expression softened, his gaze a mirror to the storm brewing within me. "I'm just trying to help," he murmured, his voice a gentle melody that stirred the depths of my wounded spirit.

Tears welled in my eyes, the ache in my chest threatening to consume me whole. "Maybe I don't want your help," I confessed, the admission a fragile confession of my deepest fears. "Maybe I'm tired of everyone trying to fix me, like I'm some broken thing in need of repair."

The hurt that flickered in Azriel's eyes pierced through me, his anguish a reflection of my own. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laden with remorse, a silent plea for understanding.

My resolve wavered, the walls around my heart crumbling in the face of his compassion. "I don't need your apologies," I confessed, the weight of my pain heavy upon my shoulders. "I just need… I don't know what I need."

With that, I turned away, the vulnerability of my confession hanging heavy in the air between us. As I retreated into the enveloping darkness, I felt the warmth of Azriel's presence recede, leaving me alone with the ache of my own brokenness. And in the stillness of the night, I grappled with the realization that perhaps, amidst the chaos of my despair, what I truly longed for was the one thing I had pushed away—the comforting embrace of someone who cared.

But even as I yearned for solace, the sight of Azriel, the one who had rescued me from the clutches of darkness, stirred within me a tumult of conflicting emotions. His Illyrian heritage, his wings—symbols of strength and freedom—served as painful reminders of the horrors I had endured. And in his compassionate gaze, I saw reflected the shadows of my past, haunting me with memories I longed to forget. It was hard to see him, to confront the echoes of my trauma that lingered in his presence, yet even amidst the pain, there remained a flicker of hope—something that clung so tight, that wouldn’t let go, and that throbbed in the presence of him.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]