#cass in 4k

[yourejinx]

Late Nights

Azriel x F.Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, +18, minors dni. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v. A bit of fluff? I think that's it.

Author's note: I wanted to try something different, this is my first time writing content like this so please be gentle but also PLEASE FEEDBACK.

Word count: 4k

It was the fourth night in a row that you were deprived from sleep, cursed with listening Cass and Nesta fuck like rabbits in the room next to yours. In all honesty, you loved your friends and were absolutely thrilled they were enjoying and exploring the extent of their relationship, they deserved it after everything they went through. You just wished they had a little consideration for your poor ears and sleeping schedule. 

You had been working your ass off the past few weeks, Rhys had you and Az going around the courts every other day, plus you've been dealing with Eris, since you seemed to be the only member in the Inner Circle that the Autumn heir tolerated just fine. So you had your plate full, and wished for a little peace and quiet at your own home. But your friends had other plans.

Nesta let out a particularly loud moan that you clearly heard through the too thin wall. It made you grimace and you decided you had enough. Huffing, you tossed the sheets off your body, grabbed the shirt you had stolen from the shadowsinger years ago and opened the door, putting on the clothing while you made your way down the corridor. If you were awake, then Azriel had to be too, he didn't miss a thing happening in this house. 

You didn't bother knocking on his door, you were way past that line with him. Azriel was your best friend, your confident, the person who you most trusted in the entire world, and vice versa. You were too comfortable with each other to bother with politeness. You flung open the door to his bedroom, making your way inside and slamming the door behind you dramatically. The room was dark except for the dim fae light hanging on his bedside table, Azriel had put down the book he was reading to stare at you amusedly. 

"Good evening to you too." He uttered playfully.

You didn't reply, just scowled, walked up to the other side and plopped down face first on the bed beside him. He chuckled. 

"Finding it hard to sleep?" He asked, setting the book aside. 

"They are insufferable." You mumbled around the sheets. They smelled like him, an instant comfort for your tired mind. "Agh! You can hear them from here too! How are you not bothered?!?" You lift your head from his pillows to look at him exasperatedly. 

Azriel smiled somewhat apprehensive at you. "I'm kind of used to it by now." He shrugged. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, smirking. "Kinky."

He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance. "You have no idea, sweetheart." His voice was a deep purr as he smirked back at you. 

You lifted one eyebrow in amusement. There was this recurrent thing between you two, where you usually teased and flirted with each other but never dared to actually do something about it. It was just for fun right? You were friends who just liked messing around as a joke. Always dancing the line between friends and something more, it was a dangerous game for sure, but you had to admit you loved the thrill of it. 

“Is that so? Oh please, do enlighten me then.” You shot back, lying more comfortably on his bed. Arms behind your head, eyes fixed on him. 

Hazel gaze traveled all the way down to the now exposed skin of your upper thighs, your movement had caused the shirt – his shirt– to ridden up a little, revealing more of your legs and the underline of a pair of lacy black panties. His pulse spiked slightly at the sight. You didn’t seem to notice, he averted his eyes before you could catch him shamelessly staring at you.  

There was a glint in your eyes when he caught your stare again, a slight flush to your cheeks, but he didn’t back off. 

“Curious now, are we?” He tilted his head, resting his cheek on his fist to properly look at you. 

“Ah, don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy. You brought it up, are you backing out?” 

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, a playful spark dancing in his golden eyes, when—

“Fuck, Ness!” Cassian’s growl reached both your ears as clear as day. There was a beat of silence after that where you just stared at each other stunned, then you broke in a fit of laughter. 

“Seriously Az, I don’t know how you endure it, if I have to listen to them one more night I’m gonna lose my shit. I haven’t slept in days,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “and neither have you, it seems.” you pointed out, poking open one eye to stare at him. Azriel had laid back facing you, wings tucked behind his back, shoulders involuntarily curving inwards, a sign of tiredness. You noted the dark circles under his eyes. 

“I look that shitty, huh?” he smiled tiredly.  

“Never.” You stated matter-of-factly. “You’re always pretty.” 

It was his turn to blush then, heat rapidly crawling to his face and neck. He could handle your flirting, your teasing, but he didn’t know how to react when you blatantly called him pretty. It just sounded so…sincere, coming from you. It made his heart flutter in his chest. It was no secret that he found you attractive, he thought he made that clear, but there was more to that, wasn’t there? He didn’t just think you were hot, he thought you were beautiful, smart, and kind, and it freaked the hell out of him to acknowledge all those things because that would mean that he wanted more. More than being your friend, but it terrified him to ruin your friendship. If you wanted him in the same way, you would’ve said something by now, right? You’ve known each other for years. 

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered, breath fanning across his face. He hadn’t noticed how close you were. He could feel the heat radiating from your body. 

“I’m thinking that we should sleep.” He answered, but made no move whatsoever. You smiled at him and nodded, making to reach the faelight to turn it off. You angled your body half above him and stretched to the bedside table, hair barely grazing the hot skin of his torso. Gods, you were practically straddling him, his mind taking him to all sorts of indecent scenarios. Your breasts were just a breadths away from his mouth, he could make out the perked nipples under the shirt. He loved seeing you in his clothes, but right now he wanted nothing more than to rip the fabric out of you. Azriel swallowed dryly. 

What was his fucking problem? It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared a bed before, he blamed his friend’s heated session down the hall. He had to admit it had gotten him a bit railed up, especially with you on his bed, smelling like him. It was hard to ignore the growing want in his veins. 

“Goodnight, Az.” You said, pulling back a little to look at him through half lidded eyes, even in the dark. Was it possible you were feeling the same? or was it just tiredness in your features? 

“Goodnight, angel.” He whispered back. If you leaned in any closer, he swears he’d kiss you, consequences be damned. But you slid right back onto your side, back facing him. 

Azriel lets out a quiet, frustrating sigh, reaching an arm out to wrap around your waist pulling you close. More moaning can be heard outside his bedroom, all the way to Cassian’s room. He feels slightly jealous. 

Suddenly you snorted, “We’ll sleep better if we get past the nghs, ohh, right there Cass!” you moaned, imitating Nesta. Azriel inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the way your little whimpering had shot straight to his dick. And the bite of jealousy he felt at hearing Cassian’s name falling so sinfully from your lips.

He scented the slight change in your scent though, a pinch of sweet arousal that got him mouth-watering. It had gotten to your head too, the display of passion from your friends a few bedrooms away. Azriel debated whether it was wise to do something right now, to taste the waters maybe. But you rolled onto your back again, facing the ceiling and letting out a frustrated groan. 

“Someone has to teach them though, make them uncomfortably listen for once. Maybe I’ll go to Rita’s tomorrow, choose a random male and bring him home. Beat them at their own game.” 

“No.” Azriel growled. You turned your head to the side, looking at him and were met with the dark, lustful haze in his eyes. You felt your core pulse in response. Fuck, why was he so hot?

“What do you mean"no "?" You asked, feeling your tongue paper dry  in your mouth.

“Why wait until tomorrow, if you can beat them tonight?”

The offer hung there, unspoken, for a few heartbeats. You felt your face grow hot, felt liquid fire pooling at your belly at the mere suggestion. He hadn’t even touched you and yet he got you all hot and bothered with a few words. You licked your lips, staring at him, shirtless, hair tousled over the pillow, shadows dancing dangerously over his shoulder. As if expecting your answer. He was a sight for sore eyes. It had to be illegal to be this beautiful. 

“I’m game if you are, sweetheart.” There it was, the deep purr again that had you clenching your legs together. He noticed the shift of course, smirking smugly. 

“Haha, very funny.” you said, huffing. 

“I’m not playing.” He pulled you closer, pressing you against his front. You gasped, feeling the not so subtle bulge in his sweatpants, rubbing against the side of your thigh.

“Is this why you kept me at an arm's length tonight?” you chuckled, but he could hear the breathlessness in your voice. “So I wouldn't find out they got you all worked up?” 

“No, this isn’t their doing, angel. It's all yours.” He dared a hand down your waist, past your hips, to ghost over the skin under the hem of your shirt. You shuddered. “Tell me to stop and I will. It's okay.” 

He lifted the fabric ever so slightly, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. 

You turned fully to him, chests pressed together, breasts dragging against the firm muscle with every breath. 

“Fuck it, let’s show them.” You breathed into his mouth before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss. 

Azriel groaned low against your mouth, grip tighter bringing your hips flushed together, and kissed you back with fervor. Your hands found purchase in the dark locks at the back of his neck, tugging gently and urging him impossibly closer. He pushed you onto your back, knees parting on their own accord to accommodate him between your legs. It was all so hot and messy. Like you both have been waiting for this for a very long time, it made you throb with need. The thought of him wanting you as much as you wanted him. 

You rolled your hips onto him, desperate for any sort of friction, moaning loudly when the clothed tip of his cock catched on your clit deliciously. Azriel took his chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch and taste of you, kissing you deeply, desperately. He wanted more, he wanted everything. A wave of arousal licked down his spine, your lips were sweet and addictive, he wondered — needed to know— if other parts of you tasted as sweet. 

He kissed your jaw, your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collarbones. His right hand came to fondle with the generous swell of your breast over the shirt, pinching at the perked nub. The smell of your arousal hit him at a full force, Azriel felt like a youngling in heat rutting his cock at your core. Fuck, he couldn't help himself, he was so enamoured with the sounds he was getting out of you. 

“Take this off,” he ordered, tugging at your shirt. “If I do it I may rip the damn thing off of you, and I love seeing you in my shirt.” 

You obeyed without a second thought, too lost in the feeling of him already. He invaded all your senses, his touch sending your skin on fire, his scent sparkling pleasure bubbling in your insides. The rich tone of his voice had you feeling all tingly and sensitive. Gods, you wanted him everywhere. 

With the offensive clothing now discarded, Azriel wasted no time dipping his head down and latching his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth around the nub. His hand came to play with your other breast, giving it the same attention, switching between your tits. You arched your back into him, whining in pleasure. 

He let go of your chest, looking down to admire you, all spread out for him. Nipples hard and shiny with his spit, breathing unevenly, underwear drenched with arousal, all because of him. He felt his cock throb within the confines of his sweats. Fuck, you looked so pretty like this, he had to taste you. Azriel looked up at your face, your glazed over eyes and swollen lips, and kissed you hard. Scarred fingers found the flimsy material of your panties, pushing them aside and dragging two digits along your soaked folds; you both moaned at the feeling. He rubbed tight circles around your clit, then ran a finger through your slit, smearing your juices everywhere. Your breathing quickened and he bit down your lip before kissing his way to your heat. Azriel looked at you from between your legs, pupils blown with lust, smirking wickedly. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged the material painfully slow down your legs, snarling softly at the sight of your dripping pussy. 

“Beautiful,” he moaned. “So damn beautiful.” His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe out your center. It almost knocked the air out of your lungs, your hips bucking off the bed to get closer to his face. He chuckled darkly. “Eager, angel?”

“Az please, stop teasing,”  you whined prettily, eyes locking with his. 

At this point you didn’t care if your friends could hear or not, you wanted Azriel’s mouth on you, his fingers, his cock. You wanted to feel all of him. 

“Whatever my sweet angel wants,” he blew some air into your cunt, making you shiver in anticipation. Azriel dive in, devouring you like a male starved, like he might die if he didn’t get to taste you. He all but full on made out with your pussy, dragging his tongue along your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking sharply. He groaned at your taste, the reverberations causing your eyes to roll back into your head, hips jerking up. He wrapped one arm around your hips to keep you pin to the bed and switched between harsh sucks and flicking the wet muscle around the nub. The pleasure was all too much and not enough at the same time, you moaned his name aloud and tugged at the strands of his hair again. 

Azriel’s free hand reached down to spread your folds, soaking his digits in your arousal before proding one finger at your entrance, and pushing inside. Your walls immediately clenched around him, making you both growl in pleasure. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so tight. Already clenching on me,” he moaned, teeth grazing your clit. You could feel the pressure building in your lower belly, walls clamping down on his finger when he added a second one. You cried out, desperately trying to ride his face. Azriel pumped his fingers inside of you faster, curling his digits to reach that sweet spot that had you seeing stars behind your lids. Words were beginning to fail you, mumbling incoherently about how close you were. “You wanna cum? C’mon angel, give it to me, cum all over my face and fingers.”

His words had an immediate effect on you, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure overpowered you and you let go, cumming hard on his fingers, moaning his name for all the house to hear. Azriel kept thrusting his fingers into your hole, guiding you through your orgasm and licking every last drop you had to offer. He watched you closely, eyes shut in pleasure, soft pants leaving your plush lips as you came down from your high. Only then he pulled his hand away, mesmerized by you. He crawled up your body, coming face to face with you. 

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling. 

“Hey,” you replied, face flushed and smiling satisfied. You reached your hand to push away the dark strands that had fallen into his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. He looked absolutely gorgeous, hair disheveled from your tugging, lips bruised and shiny with your juices, gaze clouded with lust and something else. More intense even, more deep. 

You dragged your thumb over his bottom lip and he sucked it into his mouth, you almost whined again. Breaths coming in short. You brought his face to yours, kissing him with such devotion you couldn't hold back any longer. Azriel shuddered, leisurely kissing you back, you could taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning softly, you ranked your nails down his body, from his pecs, to the hard planes of his abdomen, all the way to his cock, palming him through the fabric. He hissed when you slid your fingers past the waistband of his pants, gripping him in your hand. His hips buckled. He was big, and warm and sticky with pre-cum. You made to put his sweatpants down but he stopped you before you could take it any further. 

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked, looking intently at you. A swirl of emotions passed through his eyes, it made your heart flutter in your chest. “We don't have to, unless that's what you want. I think we made our point clear.” He laughed breathlessly. 

“It is what I want Az. I want you, I need you. Please.” You watched him with pleading eyes, full of trust and… He didn't dare acknowledge that emotion yet, not unless you spoke it out loud. Although his heart still gave a flip. Pulse picking up. 

He helped you pull his pants down, and kicked them out of his legs. His cock sprung free, slapping against his abs, tip swollen and dripping. You flashed him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen you wear, dragging your eyes shamelessly through his body. It gave him a little bit of an ego boost. 

“You're so pretty Az. So so pretty,” you murmured, eyes half lidded already devouring him. 

There it was again, you calling him pretty. He didn't know what to do with himself so he leaned in to capture your mouth in a scorching kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you, both hissing when the tip of his proud cock bumped against your clit. 

You broke the kiss to slide your mouth along his jaw, down his neck, peppering his sun-kissed skin in love bites. Marking him as yours. Azriel groaned and thrust his hips forward, sliding through your folds, coating his length in your arousal. He repeated the action a couple of times before aligning himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, your wetness and the remnants of your orgasm making it easy to slide all the way in. Your walls hugged him tightly as he bottomed out, stilling, to give you time to adjust to his size. Azriel let out a moan so hot and sinful it made a new wave of arousal wash over you. 

He felt on cloud nine, his head falling to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting it intoxicate him. He could’ve cum right then and there, buried to the hilt in your heat. But he wanted it to last, taking his time to savor the feeling of you wrapped around him so perfectly. He had no doubt in his lust filled mind that you were made for him. You were his and only his. 

You rolled your hips at last, running your fingers down his sides urging him to move. That was all it took for him to pull out to the tip and slam his hips hard into yours, Azriel set a slow, sensual pace, intended in making you feel every last inch of him. You welcomed the stretch with a wanton moan, feeling the veins with every delicious drag of his cock against your walls. 

“Gods, Azriel, more!” you whined. “I can take it.” 

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” He panted. Pulling out he gripped your hips tightly and turned you onto your stomach, ass up in the air. He thrust in harsher, making you cry out in pleasure. All signs of restraint gone. 

Azriel picked up speed, angling his hips just fine so that he could reach even deeper inside you. He quickly found the spot that had you gripping him tight, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Abusing your hole, hitting your g spot every single time, mercilessly. He had you in a state of pure bliss, bringing one arm to wrap around your middle, reaching between your legs to play with your clit. You were so close, already too sensitive from your previous orgasm. Squirming around in his embrace, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuuck! Don't stop,” you managed out, fisting at the sheets for support. 

“I won't,” he grunted, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix. “You're mine, do you understand me? Mine. No other male gets to touch you.” 

“Yes, yes I'm yours,” you panted,  desperately wanting to please him. 

“Good girl.” 

He was relentless, hips slapping with a force that had the headboard smashing against the wall. He knew you were about to cum, could feel his own orgasm sneaking up on him. Azriel went impossibly faster, pulling sobs out of you. You clamped down on him after one particular sharp thrust and your high barreled through you without previous warning. You screamed, white hot pleasure blinding you. Cum gushed out of you, making a mess of your thighs and his. He held your trembling body up, pressed to him as he fucked you through your orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. His wings flared proud behind him and he felt the tight knot in his gut snap. Azriel came with a growl of your name, hips coming to a stop. Your body falling limp atop the bed. 

Slowly pulling out of you, he watched astonished at the mess you made, both of your juices dripping down your legs. When his breathing became even again, Azriel leaned in to press a kiss to your spine, making you shudder. 

“You okay, angel?” He asked, scarred fingers gently pushing your hair out of your face. 

You smiled tiredly at him, content. “I feel amazing.” 

He chuckled and laid back next to you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You pressed a kiss over his heart, arms resting on his stomach, still catching your breath. No one spoke for a while, enjoying the aftermath of your actions. There was no room for worry, not with Azriel. Not ever. 

He traced iddle circles on your skin, loving how well you fit next to him. 

“Az?” You called softly to him, he hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you hear that?” 

He stilled, straining his hearing. Muffled moans could be heard down the hall and the distinct sound of a headboard smashing hard against the wall. You laughed in unison. 

“I think we may have spurred them on,” he said amusedly, voice hoarse. 

“I've never been more glad to have left my room than right now” you chuckled. 

“You and I both, angel.” He added, squeezing your ass. 

You turned to him, placing a kiss to the outline of his jaw. Silently admiring the hickies you left on his neck. 

“How does a second round sound?” You purred. 

He smirked, cock already hardening. “Absolutely delightful.” 

[daycourtofficial]

Now I’m in exile seeing you out

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 4k | warnings: none

Summary: a follow up to you’re losing me - You've reached your tipping point where you can't forgive Azriel's constant choice of work over you. Can he fix things? Or did things get wildly out of hand and it's too late?

Author’s note: you guys loved part one, hopefully this offers a satisfying conclusion 🥰

2k celebration masterlist

Your new apartment was quiet, not even your neighbors were making noise. You had grown accustomed to the silence the past few months - Azriel always being gone had left the house a certain way - too large, too quiet, too much without him. This silence felt different.

It wasn’t full of expectation - of wanting Azriel to come through the door or expecting him to treat you like he did in the before.

Now you’re in the after, your finger feeling light from the lack of the ring on it. Fae don’t usually wear rings - a human custom that Feyre had told you all about, one that Azriel found quite romantic.

“So that way when we are buried and our scents are gone, if anyone found our bodies, they would know what we were.”

His words were romantic, but now the tan line on your finger just made you feel hollow, as if this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Any sound you made just echoed through the too empty space - you had foolishly gotten rid of most of your previous furniture when you and Azriel bought a house - your new furniture not arriving for a few more days. Feyre had found you this apartment rather quickly when you showed up at the River House in the middle of the night, uncertain of where else to go. She and Rhysand had agreed to let you stay there until you found a place of your own and they also agreed to not tell Azriel where you were.

“We could start fresh,” you had said to him, mainly wanting a good enough reason to throw out the couch you’ve had for half a century. But now all the new furniture was left behind, in a house too big for one occupant, probably laughing at your past words.

A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you look through the peephole to find Feyre standing outside with a large plant of some sort. You unlock the door, letting her in. She gives you a soft smile and hugs you, the absurdly large plant making it somewhat difficult to get your arms around her.

She chirps a greeting to you, rubbing your back gently as you pull back from her. She knew why you had done it - you spent several nights over the past year on her couch crying to her over Azriel and his lack of time for you.

Behind her came Rhys, carrying several buckets of paint, rollers, tins, tarps. Your eyebrows raised, “is this your new art studio, Feyre? Are you going to teach Rhys how to paint?”

She giggles and Rhys rolls his eyes at you, setting the things in his arms down before kissing you on the top of your head. You lean into his touch before he pulls away, softly telling you, “we’re helping you paint the place - white walls are boring.”

In the days to come over the next week, you had multiple visitors. They all made you feel better while they were here, but whenever they left you felt that Azriel shaped hole in your heart all over again. Cassian had been the first after Feyre to visit, barreling into your apartment, nearly squeezing the life out of you once he got in the door, upset he had to wait so long to see you.

“Cass, it’s been four days.”

“The house’s not the same without you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Cassian gave you a look that you didn’t like, and the two of you were teetering on the edge of the forbidden. You had asked Feyre to tell everyone they can come visit, but not to talk about Azriel in any way.

Unfortunately, much of Cassian’s life involves Azriel so he had a much harder time than everyone else. Any time he’d veer into Azriel territory, he’d quickly go, “oops” and cover his mouth very quickly, as if he had cursed in front of a child.

Elain had visited the next day, offering to help you prepare some potted window plants. The two of you walked through the Velaris markets, Elain prattling on about different kinds of plants. You knew she was trying to distract you, help you pick up the pieces of your broken life. So you picked out different plants for your windowsill, the weight of them in your arms much lighter than the weight of your emotions.

It was hard wandering the streets with Elain - this city felt so much like him, the streets littered with cafes the two of you frequented. Elain, whose presence you enjoyed greatly, felt like a stabbing reminder of what you lost.

You know Elain came in with you when you got back to your apartment, repotting the plants into the window planter she brought. Fresh dirt covered their roots, allowing them to grow in their new place. You can’t remember what Elain spoke about, just nodding along with her until you eventually found yourself alone again.

Each day brought a new member of Azriel’s family to visit, and you loved them, truly loved them, but it was hard to feel like they were coming for you as opposed to coming on behalf of him. You knew they loved you, despite whatever was happening between you and Azriel, but your interactions were always colored with him in the background.

You had been expecting Nesta to show up when you opened the door to find Azriel looking back at you.

You were a bit surprised at the restraint he maintained waiting so long, a whole week passing since you had left, but you said all you wanted to say in that note. You wanted him to feel awful, to finally see how you were feeling.

You just hated that it came to this to get him to see you.

He looked terrible. His shadows were pooled at his feet, darting towards you with affection, dancing around you. His wings were practically dragging on the floor, his shoulders sagged, his hair was a mess. His eyes looked lifeless, his jaw covered in stubble.

Good.

“Azriel,” you bit out, not an ounce of affection in your tone. “May I help you?”

“I want you to come home.” His words were clipped, agitation clear in his voice.

“This is my home, you may come in for a few minutes if you want to talk.”

You didn’t really want to invite him in, wanting him to stand outside your door, feeling as unwanted as you had for so many months. But you had new neighbors, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out how nosy they were with this conversation.

The sight of him made you so angry, but a tiny part of you wanted to reach out to him, running your fingers through his hair, and coax him to come to bed so the two of you could actually sleep.

He shut the door behind him before turning back to you.

“Please, come back. I’ll be better.”

Your hands nestle onto your hips, your jaw rotating in annoyance. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He sighs, his feet moving of their own accord across your floor, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floor.

“Was I not enough for you?”

His words send you into a tailspin of rage, your vision going red. “Azriel,” you say, voice rising, “that’s a funny thing to ask, when you were never there! I gave you everything. Endless excuses, endless empathy. I spent so much time telling people that what you were doing was okay, that I forgot it wasn’t! You weren’t there!”

His hands run down his face, shaking his head in denial. His shadows swirled the room, and you could hear them whispering to him, but what they were saying you couldn’t make out.

“You’re the one who decided that everything I had wasn’t enough for you.”

Your words hit their mark, and the Illyrian before you halts and removes his hands from his face, looking nothing like the formidable soldier he was, but rather the boy he had been. You take a deep breath, opening your door once more behind him.

“I needed you to risk something, I needed you to choose me.”

You stop forward, pushing him through the threshold.

“Most of all, I needed you to choose yourself, too.”

You shut the door on him, leaning your forehead against the wood. The place was suffocating you with its silence. It was a new silence, compared to the one you’d wait in while Azriel was off.

This one felt full of hope and possibilities.

-

Three decades passed since that fateful night, but you could still see Azriel’s eyes in the shadows some nights. You hated burning candles - the way the shadows flickered and danced reminded you of the shadows that curled your fingers, the ones that kept you company whenever Azriel spent too long away.

You had dated here and there since Azriel - none of them lasting more than a few years. They were fine - all attractive, all nice, but they all ended for one reason or another. One moved to a different court, which you didn’t want to do. Another’s mother didn’t like you and it just didn’t work out after that. Several relationships fizzled out because there just wasn’t a spark between you two. You felt cursed, unlucky in love, destined to be alone.

Or perhaps destined to always be heartbroken.

It wasn’t all bad - you just weren’t lucky with romance. You had fallen back in love with Velaris a few years after leaving Azriel, the city lights coaxing you back. You had actually considered leaving entirely, the city feeling too much of him.

Until one day, about five years after you left, you had walked the Sidra one night, the reflections of the street lights giving the city and the river a new glow.

It enchanted you, waking you up from the stupor you had been in for so long.

After that, you spent a lot of your time around Velaris - running events for the city, making friends with several of the business owners. It felt good to find a new support system in the city - one not connected to your ex boyfriend.

You clutch your coat tighter around yourself as you weave through the streets of Velaris, heading back to your apartment. You walk by some apartments, a few men standing around outside, their boisterous laughs making you feel uneasy. One of them starts calling for you, but you ignore his words and walk faster.

You heard footsteps behind you, and you turned a corner hoping he’d stop following you.

“Leave her alone.”

You knew that voice - the deep timbre one you heard in occasional dreams, calling to you even after all these years. You stop your fast walking, turning just in time to make eye contact with those hazel eyes you’ve been dreaming of forever. You can’t run - he’s already stopped still at the sight of you, as if time was stopping for this unexpected reunion.

He stands behind the guy who was following you, his face peering over the male’s shoulder at you.

“She your bitch?”

Azriel’s growl shocks you, and the male turns, allowing his siphons to glow bright in the night. The male stops his chuckling, replaced with deep apologies, running off in the other direction as Azriel moves closer to you, and the two of you start walking in the direction towards your apartment.

The streets are quiet as Azriel follows your lead, his boots scuffing the cobblestone street. It felt strange to be next to him again, the wind rippling against the skin of his wings a sound you never thought you’d hear again.

He clears his throat, “sorry about them.” He gestures behind himself before adding, “I saw them yelling at some female and just wanted to keep anything from happening.”

You look up at him, drinking in his appearance. Thirty years had passed since he came to your apartment that day - since you yelled and screamed at him. You had wanted to yell more that day, but you were so drained from how things ended, you just wanted to move on. He looked much the same - his jawline sharp, his large nose littered with the freckles you loved so much. They were more prominent now, likely a result of the summer sun. His hair was a little lighter, cut a little shorter than you remembered it, the curls lightly dusting the top of his forehead.

You had hardly spoken to much of his family recently, your new job and not living in one of their properties making it quite difficult to schedule dinners and lunches. The last time you saw any of them was either when Elain visited you about six years ago or when you saw Cassian in a coffee shop, a tiny babe in his arms some odd years ago.

You had caught glimpses of the inner circle over the years - a wave to Feyre across a restaurant, the sight of Rhys’s smirk through a window, the bookshop clerk down the street mentioning Nesta. Glimpses of their lives, but you never allowed yourself to stop for too long to get caught back into their orbit.

You had once been so integrated into the family, but it was hard to continue when you pulled away from Azriel. They loved you, you knew that, but they were his family and it never felt quite right without him, every one of your conversations with them overshadowed by the lack of Azriel. So, you had pulled back. It’s not what they wanted, it’s not what you wanted, but it was what you needed.

So many things were the same, but he somehow looked lighter, as if the weight of the world weren’t on his shoulders anymore. It made him look so free and so beautiful.

Maybe he found someone who could finally help against his demons.

“It’s quite alright - I actually should thank you for that and for walking me home. I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking home alone after that.”

You two continue on in silence, the only sound your shoes against the cobblestones and the fae moving about on the streets, heading off for their nights to start as yours ended on this strange note. The silence was lingering for too long, old emotions stirring beneath the surface. You had to break the tension.

“Is Cassian a dad now?”

Azriel’s eyes widened before throwing his head back laughing. You had almost forgotten just how beautiful that sound was. Almost. “Fuck no.”

His chuckles bounce off the streets of Velaris as he mutters, “but he and Nesta still fuck like they’re desperate for one.”

“But I swear I saw him out with a kid with wings a few years ago.”

Azriel stops to think for a moment before squinting his eyes a bit, “do you remember the issues we had with wing clipping?” You nod, remembering how just the details of some of the things Azriel’s seen at the hands of his people made you queasy. “We helped a few of the women escape the camps - we’ve been trying to make safe spaces for them to live in to prove to the males that they don’t need them. It’s slow, but we’ve got a few dozen living in and around Velaris.”

Wow, you thought. Your smile is genuine as you congratulate him, “that’s impressive, Az!” He shakes his head at your celebratory tone. “Really, I know progress is slow with them, but that’s great.” You beam up at him before scratching the back of your head, “but it still doesn’t explain the kid I saw.”

“A few of the females brought their kids with them, and Cassian likes to spend time with each of them one-on-one. He says it’s a good excuse to get ice cream, but I think he just likes seeing them have a present male in their lives.”

You two continue winding through the streets, a cool breeze lifting through your hair. It was so odd to be here with him, odder still for this to feel normal. Azriel clears his throat, his voice a bit uncertain, “I’ve been uh delegating more.”

You pause, feet stopping on the road. They’re just words, nothing more, but Azriel’s never delegated. A true perfectionist to his core, he never even considered delegating any task Rhys asks of him. You turn to look at him, his hazel eyes looking back to you full of regret and longing.

“I’ve been uh, using some of the spies under me more. I’ve been trusting them with more important work.”

The two of you reached your apartment door, the same one Feyre had painted silver all those years ago. You can hear his shaky breath as he continued. “I don’t deserve you. I never have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t-“ he sighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I do deserve love.”

His voice breaks at that and some piece of you shatters all over again at how poorly he was treated to never feel like he deserved anything good or kind.

“This is coming out all wrong,” he huffs, tugging lightly at some of his hair, “but Madja’s been helping me for a long time. I- it’s so hard to let me be deserving of love. I always felt I had to earn it. I felt I had to do the impossible things asked of me and that would finally make me worthy.”

He sighs, a slight thump from the door as he leans his forehead against it.

“I am worthy of being loved. And so are you.”

His hands are shaking, but his shadows wrapped around them, forming something similar to tight fitting gloves, offering some kind of security to him to continue.

“If the damage is too much, I understand. You can tell me to fuck off at any point. But if… if you would let me, I’d like to.. I’d like to show you that I’m trying. That I’ve been working on myself.”

You continue to look up at him, gobsmacked at this confessional from him.

“It’s hard. I couldn’t make progress overnight, hence my long absence. But I have made progress. I’ve uh actually been taking days off. I started going on trips to Day and Summer a few years back. I read three books at the beach a few months ago, actually.”

He laughs at the absurdity of his trip - a vacation. Something he’s never done. To spend days on his own, nothing but a book to keep him company is all you’ve ever wanted from him.

A pause. A breath. But he keeps going, needing to get his jumbled thoughts out of his head and into yours.

“It’s been a long time, but I think about you every day. I’ve probably made a fool of myself out here, but if there is any way you aren’t seeing anyone and if any part of you misses me at all…” He trails off, his fist lightly hitting the door. “I just wanted you to know that I’m trying. I’m bettering myself. I am better. I know it’s late, but..”

He trails off, unsure of how to finish his sentence. Your silence was eerie, leading him to keep talking, his words unable to stop.

“I just- I never wanted things to get here. I was foolish, and I didn’t appreciate you. It took you leaving to realize I could not continue like I was… I can’t.. Let myself hurt the people I care about anymore.”

You stay rooted, pressed against the door, not moving.

They were just words, the same things that hurt you over the years of broken promises and missed dates. But they’re so thought out. He’s had thirty years to mull things over, and he feels so much lighter than before.

You’re conflicted, but the optimist in you wins out as your voice finally finds you.

“Show me.”

-

Every Sunday for several weeks at 8 AM Azriel would stand on your doorstep and knock gently. You would open the door and he would present you with a bouquet of flowers - varieties of colors and species made their home on your dining room table as the weeks go by.

The two of you stroll through the city. The city you loved so dearly and for so long, parts of it feeling impossible to look at without thinking of the male next to you.

He would usually open up with some story about Cassian or Rhysand to break the ice. Then he’d tell you about his week - where Rhysand had sent him off, what he did on his days off that weren’t Sunday, anything that stood out. The two of you wander the streets, only stopping for occasional treats to eat while continuing your walk.

As the weeks go by, he starts filling you in on the past thirty years. For a long time, he saw Madja almost daily. She began providing him with herbs that helped regulate his moods, helped him sleep better, and helped him feel better. She also began having him comb through the deepest parts of himself he tried to forget, the memories of that little boy abandoned in that dungeon. He’d also tell you about how the rest of the Inner Circle was doing - Feyre and Rhys were trying for a baby, Elain was traveling a lot, Nesta and Cassian were… Nesta and Cassian.

Now he only sees Madja every other week, and she seems quite impressed by his progress. She should be, you think, he’s a far cry from the male you kicked out of your apartment all those decades ago.

After a few weeks, you began opening up to him as well. How hard it was to leave, your relationships in your time apart, how empty everything had felt without him, how you’d developed some strong friendships in the years apart.

“I had to pick up the pieces of myself too, Az.”

His heart pangs with guilt, but you reach out for his elbow, eyes bright with beginnings.

“I always wondered what I’d do if you came back to me, but I never thought you’d be how you are now. You seem so… light?” Your voice comes out more like a question, and you chuckle. “You just seem so different, but in a good way.”

“I feel different. I feel like I’m not… like I’m not that little boy anymore. Like I don’t have to prove myself to be loved. If not by you, by someone.”

His words linger in the air and you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest at his words.

“I do want it to be you, though. If you’d have me, that is.”

Your heart wanted you to lean forward, wanted nothing more than for you to wrap yourself in his embrace. But before either of you could move forward, you had to know, one way or another.

“Why did you keep pushing the wedding back?”

Your voice was soft and shaky, but the question had been lingering on your mind for so long, it was on the tip of your tongue every time the two of you met up.

“I couldn’t tell you before because you would have been so nice about it, but I- I thought I was ruining you. I didn’t want you, so kind, so wonderful, to be tethered to me for all eternity. But I was too selfish to let you go. I still am, I suppose.”

He shrugs, his shoulders folding inward toward you, his wings drooping a bit. “I know now how ridiculous that sounds, but I.. wanted you but I also wanted better for you.”

He turned toward you, his skin shining like gold in the sun. He was radiant - a word hardly ever used for him before. He looked as Helion does, as if the sun was redirecting its rays through him.

“So I became better for you, for myself, for my family.”

And that was what you needed to hear. It was never about you (in many ways it was), but at the end of the day, you always wanted what was best for the both of you.

And he became that.

On a beautiful summer day, you stood on your tiptoes, your hands reaching upwards to pull his face into yours.

And by gods even his kisses felt lighter.

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Thanks for reading 💕

[fever-fluff]

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All

Synopsis: You’re sick of Cassian and Rhysand sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. And Azriel’s tendency to let things slide when it comes to himself isn’t helping. Word Count: 4k (not proof read)

“I just think you’re becoming a bit…”

“A bit what, Cass?” Azriel was not in the mood for this. Sitting in Rita’s, in a booth right to the back while his two brothers pestered him on his love life was not how he wanted to spend the night after he’d returned to Velaris. You had been absent from his bed when he’d finally made it back in the early hours of the morning. Though he wasn’t worried. You had duties to attend to for Rhys as one of his foreign relations advisors, normally starting as soon as you woke in order to enjoy your evenings free of work to spend with him- even if he was the one still doing paperwork.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too… extreme?” Azriel snarled at Cass’ blatant insult to you. But he held his hands up in peace, Rhys cutting in before he could do more damage. “What we’re trying to say, Azriel, is that it seems like you aren’t yourself lately. You’ve been showing up more recently, which is not a bad thing and we’re happy to see more of you. But it’s the reason of these increased showings that has us worried.”

Azriel supposed it was true. He had been showing up more – to social events that is. He was always present when it was just their inner circle, but the regular accepting of invitations to social events that didn’t need his presence was a new thing, something that you had gently insisted on since the two of you had become so close.

He was never one for meaningless interactions and had been pushing himself outside of his comfort zone for quite some time now by giving in every time you looked at him, pleading with those eyes of yours. He could never quite say no when you asked, and begged him, so nicely. But he nodded all the same to the two that he understood what they were trying to say, “I guess. I honestly didn’t think it was such a big deal. It makes her happy.”

“That’s the thing Az. Sure, it makes her happy. But does it make you?” Cass was trying, really trying not to say the wrong words and have this blow up in his face. Azriel thought for a moment, of all the times he’d watch you interact with others he didn’t even know the name of, never mind their importance to your work, while you linked your arm around his and had him trail along. He was always uncomfortable in the light, always wanting to slink back to the shadows. But you were the opposite, always blooming so lovely in the presence of everyone you deigned to offer your time to. He sometimes wished he could coddle you away from all their adoring eyes and have you all to himself. But he would never cage you like that.

“Not particularly. I do it for her, but sometimes I would rather sit at home while she goes about her work.” His admission was quiet, feeling that if he said it too loud it would carry on the wind and into your ear as you slept.

“What we’re trying to say, brother, is that spending your life with someone is all about compromise. You need to tell her when you don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable.” Since when has Cassian ever been so wise and all-knowing? He’d bet five gold marks Nesta had whipped that piece of sense into him after he’d thrown another of her books out the window, insisting on ‘a lovely stroll through Velaris’ instead. Azriel knew he was just jealous of the new male protagonist in her recent book series, garnering all her attention throughout the day.

But Cassian’s words had stuck in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Had he been compromising on his comfort for your own? You’d never pressed the issue with him, but he supposed he’d not put much of a front up against it in the past, agreeing almost immediately every time you’d asked for his company.

“You know I respect her and the work she does” Rhys had ordered another round as they settled in for the night of drinking ahead, “she’s one of the best at her job that I’ve ever seen, placating Eris is a testament to that. But she is intense, she has to be. I don’t want that to jeopardise you or your happiness with her in any way in the future. Putting up boundaries with her now is the best way to do that.”

Azriel knew his brothers had always had his best interest in their hearts when it came to things like this. Rhys’ intervention between him and Elain on Solstice years ago was a testament to that. He would have been hurt in a way he would never have come back from. Elain and Lucien’s bond was one of the strongest he’d ever seen – even rivalling that of Rhys and Feyre’s once given the chance. Then he’d met you. You had courted him from the minute you’d met, and he’d preened under the attention he’d longer centuries for. You weren’t his mate; no bond had snapped for him in the time he’d gotten to know you. But he’d worked past that and found that someone choosing to be with him purely of their own volition made it much harder to doubt whether he was worthy of you or not.

So, as they drank on, Azriel let their words mill over in his mind, finally agreeing with their concerns, and decided tomorrow he’d tell you how he really felt about all the parties you were asking him to attend.

Waking up to a hungover Azriel was a rare sight, but an amusing one none the less. You’d gone to bed last night early after reading a note he’d left, saying Rhys and Cass had asked him to drinks to catch up after being away for three months. You were upset, naturally, as you hadn’t seen him either during that time. But Azriel was a people pleaser, and he’d accepted their invitation with no qualms. So instead of wallowing in self-pity of not spending the first night with him back falling asleep in his arms, you had invited Mor and Feyre over to take your mind off it.

They’d left soon after midnight, Feyre wanting to get back to Nyx seeing as his father would be away most of the night. But all those sour feelings had left the second you’d awoken curled into his strong, tanned arms this morning.

Trying to shift in his hold, you’d felt him curl further into you with a groan, wing casting over the two of you to block the ray of sun peering in between the curtains. You laughed, sending a small gush of magic to pull it closed, cutting the bright light off. His hum of appreciation vibrated against your neck while you reached to play with the tresses of dark hair falling in front of his eyes. It was getting long again – which you preferred on him – but he’d cut it soon now that he was home.

“Good morning, love” you’d never tire of the purr the name elicited from the Illyrian warrior beside you, and it rumbled lowly as he reached into your touches further. “How were drinks with Cass and Rhys?”

“Long. Too long. Wanted to come home to you.” his voice, gods his voice. You loved it, the deep tones in the morning unlike anything else you’d ever heard.

“Yeah? I should have realised I’d need to rescue you, nab you back to have you all to myself.” One thing you’d realised in pursuing the Shadowsinger was his need for directness. His heart had been torn so many times that it wouldn’t beat for anything else. And you’d been more than happy to provide.

The morning was slow, full of sweetness and adoration you’d both been missing in his absence. Neither of you had been pressed to rise before noon until your stomach had grumbled its dislike of the lack of food. And so, you’d found yourselves sat at the small table in front of the windows overlooking Velaris, coffee and pastries in hand.

Azriel had woken from his drunken haze, and appeared caught in his own world, more so than usual as you noticed him missing the handle of his mug, for the second time. “Something on your mind, my love.”

His sigh was enough to know you wouldn’t like what he had to say, and your mind wandered to unpleasant thoughts of Rhys already assigning him to another mission far from home. “I swear on all that is good if that High Lord of yours assigned something else to you last nigh-”

“He hasn’t. And don’t forget he’s your High Lord also.” Azriel hated when you spoke against any decisions made by his family, which was rare. You were on the same page as them, mostly. But there were some things you disagreed strongly on. Not always living in Velaris had given you another taste of the world, and it faired well for you in your work here. But there were times when it caused temporary rifts between you and your friends, and you weren’t inclined to change if it could be solved with words instead of blades. But when it involved Azriel, you found yourself more and more inclined to picking up something sharp and slicing it into anything that wanted to steal him from you.

“We were… talking. Last night. About a couple things.” Azriel was not as sweet with words as his brother, but to see him lose them completely was new altogether. Putting the pieces together from the non-existent puzzle he’d left for you, you felt your breath hitch slightly, “About us?”

“Yeah…” you didn’t like this Azriel. The unsure and unconfident kind. He had a silent strength you’d admired since the first time you’d met. You’d fallen in love with the male that wasn’t this, and you hated seeing him act like anything lesser than he was.

“Azriel. Whatever it is, please speak to me about it. I want to know.” You’d moved from your chair, coming to sit on the side of his as you laid your hand next to his, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to take it. But the warmth that encased yours was comfort enough to know it wasn’t something that would break the two of you.  

“I – don’t want to go to the – social events anymore.” Your brows pinched in confusion, where was this coming from? “Care to tell me why?”

“I’m not a fan of them. At all really. And I realised I was doing something that wasn’t making me happy. It made you happy, which I’m glad, but I can’t do it anymore. S’ too much.”

You watched Azriel retreat into himself at the admission, but you said nothing as you saw his gaze flicker over the room until it finally landed on you, searching for any anger, or hurt. “If you think I’m angry, I’m not. I understand what you mean, and I’m glad you could tell me.”

“You are?”

You huffed a laugh, “Yea, I am. So long as they’re your thoughts and not your brothers, right?” he nodded, “They are.”

“Okay, no more unnecessary social outings, for you at least. I’ll still have to attend them, considering.” He nodded again, “of course, I wouldn’t assume otherwise.”

You kissed him lightly as you made to get ready for the day, the conversation ending quicker then it began. These mornings were all you really had alone with him, both your professions taking up the rest of your days and swallowing the majority of the daylight- and twilight.

He’d winnowed soon after from the garden after kissing you goodbye, seeming lighter now that he’d voiced his discomfort, and you released a sigh you’d been holding since.

There was a party in three days, one you’d assumed Azriel would attend with you. But now that he’d expressed his feelings about them, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Instead, you’d prepare yourself for the emotional and verbal onslaught to come without the Shadowsinger by your side.

You hated these things. Really, really hated them. being in a room full of fae looking to raise their status, their family name in the long list of nobles was always a tiring feet to be around, but it was a necessary evil to your work. Mor stood beside you in all her ethereal glory, and the pair of you looked nothing more than astounding. Emerie was somewhere in the crowd of people, charming her way through each table she rounded. You were sometimes envious of the support she lends to Mor at these times, the two made a good pair in these places, balancing the other out that lead to progress you would only dream of making in such short time.

But it seemed tonight all you would find for yourself was concealed and blatant admissions of fae asking about your seemingly juicy availability.

“Ladies, it’s an honour to have received an invitation to such a grand celebration, pray tell” the male who’d sauntered his way over to the two of you leered in you direction, “has the lovely lady finally been freed from her cage? Should I thank the Shadowsinger for his decision to set you free from you confines that is the Court of Nightmares?” You blanched at his obvious attempt but concealed it under a smile too easy that it felt tight, “I believe you’ve been fed the wrong fruit from the vine my lord, Azriel and I are still quite the pair. I do hope you don’t mean to sully his name when he is not here to defend himself?” your sinister pout had the blood leeching from the males cheeks, and he stuttered himself into a stupor until he could find his feet to walk quickly away.

Sighing, you grabbed a fresh glass of wine, the last going sour from the interaction. Mor’s head leaned to yours unceremoniously, “Mother, that’s the fifth one in the last hour! How often does this happen?”

“Any time Azriel isn’t with me. When he’s accompanied me in the past it stopped a lot of this for the most part. But with my reputation among the courts here and abroad, anyone will try to get their claws into the person holding the most honey pots.” You were feeling the effect of it much sooner than ever before, the mental strain making your mind lag. You’d really hoped Azriel would have been here tonight, but you couldn’t lean on his strength every time.

“That’s why you’ve been bringing him along…” something seemed to click with her. “You know he hates these things. But you wanted him here for support, for you.” You nodded without hesitation, confused as to why her face seemed so stricken by the knowledge.

“There’s something I have to tell you” Mor’s tone was sullen. As she explained, you listened and felt anger wash over you in gulfs. Oh, you were going to murder someone, and soon.

The following weeks after Azriel had admitted his feelings to you were…odd, to say the least. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. you had been the same as ever to him, loving and oh so understanding when it came to his every need. You didn’t press him to attend the gatherings you had to, opting to inform him instead of your departure. While you were gone, he would catch up on all the paperwork he had waiting, and by the time you came home, his arms would be open and waiting for you to fall into.

But something was still off. He felt it in the way your shoulders slumped more than they usually would after socialising all night. It was still taxing to you, but you had always smiled after when he had attended them with you. Now, you barely had enough energy to lift yourself from his hold, falling straight to sleep once he’d guided you to bed.

Those nights, when you’re too tired to tell him about your day, and instead just curl up against his side, Azriel thinks about the moments of when you’d first met.

Your connection to him was almost instantaneous, you’d follow him everywhere you could. The idle chatter you started with had eventually turned to long and deep conversations, sweeping him along into the early hours of the morning.

Your first kiss, when you’d found him after a more draining mission. You’d helped him bathe, nursing the tension from his back and mind with loving but firm touches to his skin. He’d turned to you in a burst of confidence and captured your mouth with his before he had anytime to think himself out of it. You’d melted into him almost instantly, and the rest had been a blur of tangled limbs and sheets.

The weeks after had been full of secret touches and longing looks, until Cassian had caught the two of you in a heated kiss after venturing to the kitchen for some late night tea. Always the one known for having loose lips, the whole house had known before Azriel could’ve knocked him unconscious, but you had laughed and squeezed his hand in reassurance, letting him know that you didn’t mind being claimed by him, if he were okay with you claiming him. No, he didn’t mind that at all.

Gods, he had been in heaven ever since. Having someone to come home to, to reach for in the long family dinner when before he had to watch the mated couples around him stare adoringly at one another. He now had someone to call his own, and he was so glad it was you.

But you seemed to be getting worse as the weeks rolled on, and he couldn’t quite understand why, until Rhysand pulled him into his office.

“She’s taking a leave of absence from her position.” Azriel’s world spun on the wrong axis as he processed the words coming from his brother’s mouth.

“She hasn’t spoken to you about this?” he shook his head, mind spiralling as to why you’d do something like this. You loved your job, more than anything. It gave you a purpose, something to give back to the world.

Cassian ventured in not long after, seeming to already know what was going on, “you’re not communicating again. Azriel, this is gonna really affect your-”

“Affect his what, Cassian?”

The three of the bristled at the sharpness of your tone. Azriel cast his gaze over you. Your eyes seemed darkened by a tiredness that hadn’t been there until a few weeks ago. Even your posture, always one to hold your head high, looked slumped against Mor and Feyre, who stood behind you.

“I was just saying that you both should talk a bit more about-”

“Oh, I’m sure you have a lot of comments on what me and my mate should talk about.”

Azriel stopped.

Everything stopped.

Your- your what?

You sighed, your admission seeming to go amiss amongst the thoughts swirling in you mind, but Azriel couldn’t comprehend how you’d said something like that so…so… casually.

“Azriel, Can I speak to Rhysand and Cassian – alone?” he didn’t feel himself answer, but Mor and Feyre seemed to understand and guided him into the hallway, where the three of them waited with baited breath to hear the onslaught you’d ensue. It wasn’t a secret, how much you detested some of the decisions they made in this court. Hels, you had even come to Eris’ defense more than once during the time of the alliance to put him on the Autumn throne. But this was different, and he knew it deep in his bones.

Mate. You’d called him your mate. But there was no bond. Nothing had snapped in all the time you had known each other. He loved you, infinitely. but that had been a choice you had both made in all that you had gone through, not for some fate woven between you.

“I know, it’s a lot to take in” it was Feyre, “I think we should sit down, get some tea while we wait until they’re finished.”  

So the three of them walked away from the voices on the other side of the door, and made for Feyre’s studio.

“You two need to butt out, now.” You were fuming, white hot rage consumed you as you looked to the grown males in front of you. But they weren’t acting like that, not in all the time you’d known them.

“You-you called Az your mate?”

Shit. Had you? Oh gods he was probably going insane with the thoughts in his head. No wonder he hadn’t answered you. How were you going to explain hiding something so profound from him for as long as you’d known each other.

“What of it.” you were snapping now. You don’t ever snap. That was your charm, ever the collected one, no matter what. But gods they had stuck their noses where it didn’t belong. And you detested it.

 The statement had seemed to shut the two of the up quite quickly, so you continued, happy for the lack of interruption. “I understand you’re looking out for Az; I do. But this is getting to the point where it’s ridiculous. Have you ever considered the weight in which Az holds your words? They’re like gospel to him.”

“We were just trying to help, nothing more.” You snorted as the High Lord’s words. Feyre and Mor have known of your secret since you met Azriel, but it seemed the two of them have truly kept it privy to your circle of three.

“Have you ever thought, for a second, that maybe sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong does more damage than good?” you were breaking now, the emotions you had welled up the past while cresting. “I wasn’t asking Azriel to those gatherings because I wanted him out of his comfort zone. Gods, I know he detests them.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I needed him. It’s not easy listening to fae ask about your hand in marriage while your mate sits happily at home.”

You took a breath as the two said nothing more. “I came here to tell you that my leave was because I was overwhelmed. It’s a lot sometimes, even for me. And I hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Az without interruption since we met. I was going to tell you both today, about… the predicament. But it seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag, claws and all.”

Gods, how were you going to explain this to him? You’ve kept him in the dark for months. He’ll never forgive you.

“We-acknowledge our misstep. We truly didn’t mean to hurt you, or Azriel. And for that I apologise, for us both.” Rhys’ face was sullen enough for your anger towards the two wash away, and you nodded. “Believe me, you’re not the one who’s hurt him.”

With nothing else to say, you made for the door. Cassian’s voice stopping you just as you reached for the handle, “Just, make sure you get him to listen. He’ll go into his head, and its not a good place.”

You nodded.

 “I know.”

There will be a Part II

[ghostbsuter]

It was supposed to be a normal gala, everyone attending and maybe smuggle in Danny's official introduction to the public.

Danny didn't really mind, having been lectured and taught by Sam during the times of suffering they'd had to go through together.

Yet, since waking up, he'd had a bad feeling.

Good thing he listened to that bad feeling, considering the situation he is at right now.

(He had looked at Dami when he saw the agents pile in, handing him his glas and grabbing the bottle. He ignored the scowl in favor of shouting, "Viva la revolution!")

The comm crackles to life as he smashes one of the GIW agents with a bottle of champagne over the head, grabbing another and downing in one go.

He passes Jason, grinning like a feral cat and swiping another GIW agent to the ground.

(At that moment, the forced-to-be-here Jason watched wide eyed, a soft "What the fuck" leaving him as he held his glass.)

"Get him!" Multiple guns were pointed at the running teen. The guests and the waynes were pressed to the walls of the room and murmured.

Danny jumped, kicking the agent down and ducking from the shoots.

He's running to the tall windows, opening one and sending his farewells.

"You will never catch me alive!!"

And jumps out, a flurry of colourful laser shoots following.

The agents pile behind the window, shouting incomprehensibly.

(One of guests leans towards Mr. Wayne, sipping her champagne. "Say, Bruce, are you sure he isn't from Gotham City?"

The man in turn blinks, smiling charmingly despite the demon's fighting in his head at what's going on. "I... was pretty sure, maybe he just fits in?"

The Lady laughs, dumping her rest of the drink on a agent and making a haste retreat.

Bruce is only half sure that, that was someone he knew and just disguised.)

I kinda want danny who's been adopted by the wanyes to be schmoozing it up at a gala (because listen nothing is funnier than the image of Gotham elites being like oh whats this one's gimmick cus all the other's have something only for danny to just be a dude) only for like the giw to raid the place to get danny ( cus he's a ghost? Cus he's a Fenton? Who knows)

Only for danny to pick up a bottle chug it smash it and vault out a window shouting you'll never catch me alive

Now this increases his reputation with most Gothamites and rouges and absolutely worries the fuck out of the batfam why is the government chasing you danny and hiw are you so good at running

[jscrawls]

I need the kids to have watched Bruce get his ass kicked by window reader. Like all of them cheering her on because who doesn’t wanna see the Batman lose to this (much smaller of a build) person. He’s 6 foot something and she’s 4 to 5 foot something 😂 anyways I loved the new chapter it was so good. That I’ve decided I don’t wanna throw rocks

LMAO 4 SOMETHING FEET? Widow reader that small would have to get extra nasty in a fight like-it'd be a bloodbath 😅

If you mean the actual accidental fight in the alleyway? Babs 100% got that on camera and watched every bit of it on repeat. Probably did some bat-ai digital enhancing so she could watch it in 4K if it was on some shitty security camera. And yes, she shared it in the non-Batman group chat with the others. Jason rated the gun-slap 8/10, (he thinks they could've hit harder, loosen a tooth at the least!)

Damian and Cass both rate the gas splash and bottle smash 10/10. They can appreciate using what's available to you.

Now I wanna do a normal sparring blurb 😂

Everyone's in the cave for the first official spar with widow, they've seen them train and workout by now, but they all do that, even Alfred does. So it's nothing groundbreaking, what they really wanna see is their fighting style.

Currently Bruce and widow are on the mats, hands wrapped and taped up and they've got compression wear on their elbows and knees for safety of course. The others are all watching very closely as Bruce gestures then towards the center of the mat to explain the rules.

"alright, let's go over the basics. No hitting below the belt, no going for the eyes, and no deadly force." He gives you a pointed look at that one while Jason boos him and gives two thumbs down from where he's leaning against a post, Bruce continues speaking regardless of the interruption. "... This is a serious spar though, and I'd like you to treat it as such. No horsing around, just give me your best shots so I can see what you can do."

You watch him patiently while tightening your wrist wraps one last time, the pressure feels nice after all this time without proper gear, but hitting a person is gonna be even nicer. "It's a serious fight?"

Bruce clears his throat subtly, Cass and Tim exchange glances and out of the corner of your eye, you watch Stephanie and Barbara handing something to each other.

"yes, like I said I wanna see what you can-oof!" Bruce grunts as your shin connects with his side in a sudden crane kick, the strike was so sudden it caught him off guard as you hadn't even wound yourself up first.

Stephanie loudly guffaws and you hear someone slapping something, possibly covering their mouth?

Well the fights on apparently.

Bruce throws his hand up to catch your arm as you swing a left hook at him and moves his foot to sweep your ankles, okay maybe it was just a lucky shot-

Your free arm grabs his wrist while you hop over his leg, pressing your feet against his side and leveraging yourself up to throw a thigh over his arm so you're now upside down, hanging your entire weight off his limb like a fucking spider monkey. You secure one thigh around his bicep, squeezing him hard enough that you won't be shook off easily and start kicking at his head with the other leg.

Holy shit you're brutal, he should've worn a mouth piece or something because wow you don't pull your punches or kicks. Bruce quickly drops his weight to the mat like a ragdoll, using his size to his advantage to land heavily on you and put your damn kicking to a stop.

Jason's calling out random advise to you like this is a televised wrestling match and Duke is filming the whole thing, narrating and giving commentary to his phone like this is a nature documentary.

Even Dick is invested, though he's trying to maintain a calm demeanor since Damian's right beside him, trying to analyze your moves and he's trying not to distract the kid.

As soon as both of you loosen your grip you roll away from each other, Bruce quickly stands but you remain squatting, hunched like a defensive cat in the center of the mat. The kids and Bruce are watching you closely, are you out of surprise attacks? Your whole thing seems to be take them by surprise and end it as quickly as possible so maybe you're running out of ideas?

You tilt your head as you watch Bruce closely, your expression becomes more mocking as you smirk at him.

"well? Do I have to take the lead on everything or are you gonna move."

Bruce knows a goad when he hears one, but obviously you expect him to participate more than just blocking and standing around so he'll oblige you. Cautiously, he steps forward. Leading with his dominant side in defensive posture as he waits for you to do something.

Instead you just stand up and back away like you hadn't taunted him a moment ago, do you expect him to follow you all the way across the mat? You're not exactly indicating anything with your body language so Bruce carefully pauses in the middle of the area to see what you'll do, his stance widens and he keeps his hands up and close to himself.

The cave seems to quiet down as everyone holds their breath in wait, nine pairs of eyes on you as you stretch your arms above your head, then dart towards Bruce.

You throw your elbow up towards his throat and he blocks, he blocks the knee aiming for his gut too. Feeling emboldened he attempts to throw a kick but you hop out of the way like a bunny and then come right back into his personal space, he catches your hand bait you can aim for his nose and starts to twist your arm behind your back to restrain you, but you lean forward and again drop your weight to the mat like a wet bag of laundry and kick at his elbow.

He grunts disapprovingly at that. "What part of fight clean did you not get?"

Alfred speaks up from what he's occupying the bat computer chair. "You did say this was a serious fight, master Bruce."

He crosses his arms over his chest scornfully, one thin brow raising as if judging Bruce.

Stephanie Snickers and lightly elbows Cass. "I'm starting to think all shorties are viscous, I thought you and Tim were examples not the standard."

"hey!" Tim sounds very offended at that, but still doesn't take his eyes off the ring for long.

"well you know what they say, short people are closer to hel-ow!" Damian roughly elbows Dick before he can finish that sentence.

While the crowd of children all bicker, you kick Bruce in the knee in an attempted take down. He grunts in pain but manages to stay upright enough to throw his arms around you in an aggressive bear hug, yanking you close enough to trap you against his body. as soon as his hands move you tense.

Once his arms start to lock around you do you realize he's going for a classic chokehold, so before he can lock his hand in the crook of his elbow you play dirty and reach up to give him a nasty horse bite. Your thumb and forefinger curl and pinch the softest part of his inner underarm, you knowing damn well how many nerves are there as you grab as hard as you can.

The second Bruce hisses you let go and quickly drop your weight and drive your elbow into his liver repeatedly, he seems to be fed up with you and drops his arms from around your neck to grab your waist and body slam you to the floor.

That really winded you, so you're slow to wriggle out from under him. Though you both seem to be done for the moment as he sits down properly, now he's just watching you quietly as he recovers. His dignity

Duke is the first one to break the silence that followed the end of the fight, pausing his video and triumphantly holding his phone in the air. "I got all of it!"

Babs glances over at him in amusement. "You know there are cameras all over in here, right?"

Duke nods even as Jason sidles over to him and gestures for his phone. "Obvs, but those don't capture the best angles on the training mats."

Dick ducks into the little training area and hands both you and Bruce a water bottle and a helping hand up, Bruce declines as he cracks his bottle where he sits but you allow the younger man to pull you to your feet. Smirking to yourself before throwing one final verbal jab at the man before walking off the mats.

"y'know..... Bucky definitely still hits harder."

He scowls at your back so quickly you'd think you'd just poisoned his drink, dropping the water bottle as he pushes himself to his feet. "Okay, who the hell is Bucky!?"

🔹🔹🔹

| m.list |

A/n: thank you for sparing me, I've had threats of dog-stealing and everything 😭😭based some of this off past boxing experience lol 😂 smaller hands might equal less muscle behind it, but the smaller point of impact can make up for the power loss and still mess u up. At least that's what I remember that ish felt like anywho, I've slept since then so eh 🤷‍♀️

@viilan

[soulrox]

Flowing Blood - Demon Twin AU

DPxDC #28

This got away from me...was meant to be a small thing to get outta my head, then 4k words later it's still not done, but I cannot figure out an actual end, so it's just ends abruptly. Be warned, it's long

"Only one heir is needed. Fight to the death to get rid of the spare."

Swords clash against one another. A fierce duel where neither combatant wants to win. Both fighters back away from each other. Identical childish (7yrs) faces mirror each other. Sky blue eyes lock with forest green ones. Eyes that scream in pain for what must be done. The victor was known to them before their blades first touched.

Danyal thinking to himself: I love and care for Dami. I always do all the tasks for the league, killing any and all, so that Dami never has to bloody his hands. Dami's an artist, a creator; he shouldn't have to do this. I can not harm my little brother. I love him. I have protected him from things I hope he never knows. How can grandfather expect me to harm Dami. I cannot ever hurt him. There is only one way this goes. I'm sorry Damian, please forgive me.

Damian thinking to himself: I know I have always been protected by Danyal. I know that Danyal has been harmed before in my place. I know that I have never killed. Grandfather expects me to die, as I am the weaker one. No, not weak, never weak. Danyal has always told me my talents are to create, so why should I ever have to bloody myself? I cannot hurt Danyal, but I know he cannot harm me. There's only one way this goes. I'm sorry Danyal, please forgive me.

Damian gets a hit in. His sword is plunged through Danyal's chest. The duo huddle into each other in a facsimile of a hug. Danyal whispers into Damian's ear "It's fine, I'm fine, you're fine, I'm sorry, Dami. Forgive me. I'm so sorry, I forgive you. I love you. I-I Forgive You." The presumably final words ever to be spoken by Danyal Al Ghul.

Damian stayed stoic as well as he could with his brother's blood on his hands. His dead brother by his own hands. Oh, how much in that moment, Damian wishes he could cut off his hands.

Danyal's body gets carted away, all traces he ever existed erased. Except for the sword now owned by Damian, an engraving of stars upon the hilt. While Damian's sword with a pencil and paint brush carved in the hilt gets thrown in the pit with Danyal, neither surfacing forever to be apart of the pit.

Fast forward, Damian's lived with Wayne's since 10

Bruce decided that for Damian's 14th birthday, he would organize a surprise for him. A section of the Gotham museum to hold and showcase his artistic ability. Damian is an artist. Anything and everything is his medium. Many, many sketch books get filled by him. Most (all) of which the rest of the family has never seen. Painting is the one outlet that Damian rarely uses. Or does so in secret. As canvases are harder to hide than books.

Bruce ropes in the rest of his kids to help. The kids help because if it goes good, they'll add their name to the gift. They end up going through all of Damian's works to find items to showcase. (None of them even once think how going through his art will not make him happy)

Several sketch books are seemingly filled with self-portraits. The family, upon seeing the endless self-portraits, starts thinking that Damian might be way more self-absorbed than they ever imagined. Several who noticed are confused as to why the eyes are always greener than blue. Everything changes when Cass stumbles upon a very well-hidden canvas.

Two identical young boys wearing league clothes, smiling softly, only distinguished by their eye colors. The one on the right with crystal clear blue eyes is depicted with tears rolling down his face, while his right arm holds up a sword, with blood dripping down the blade, hitting the ground. His left hand rests by his side with bloody fingertips. The one on the left with forest green eyes has his left arm raised, also holding a sword. But his sword seems to be made of blood; the blood flows down his arm, connecting to a bloody chest wound. His right hand rests by his side, dripping in blood. A hauntingly beautiful painting with so much agony and pain seen in every brush stroke. Signed by Damian. - The title on the back calls it "I'm Sorry Dear Brother"

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Stralight - Part 2

here is the link for part 1 or part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

Word Count; 4k

notes; Hey everyone! This chapter is more centered around the IC. New clues and questions will arise while following Y/N from a different perspective. Also I already wrote a good part of the story, I will try to publish a new chapter every day/two day. I hope that you will like the part 2. Do not hesitate to comment. Bisous <3

---

Two weeks had flown by, and the long-awaited night of the Winter Solstice had enveloped Velaris in a festive blanket of snow and twinkling stars. Inside the stately townhouse of the High Lord, the inner circle—Mor, Armen, Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys—gathered around a roaring fire, the room aglow with the warmth of friendship and laughter.

Mor, ever the heart of any gathering, clapped her hands with a bright, infectious enthusiasm. "Alright, everyone, it's the moment we've all been waiting for—gifts time!" she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Laughter and cheerful banter filled the room as small, beautifully wrapped packages began to change hands. Azriel joked about how he hoped his gift was better than last year's infamous "invisible cloak"—which turned out to be just an empty box. Cassian roared with laughter, slapping him on the back, while Rhys watched on, a sly grin playing on his lips.

As the gifts made their rounds, the moment came for Cassian and Azriel to receive their gifts from Rhys. With a dramatic flourish that matched the occasion, Rhys presented them each with an elegantly wrapped, long, slender box. "For my brothers, who deserve nothing but the best," he said with a warm tone of brotherly affection.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged a look of curiosity and anticipation before tearing into the wrapping. As they lifted the lids, the room fell into an appreciative silence. Inside each box lay a masterfully crafted sword and dagger set, the metal gleaming even in the soft light of the fire.

Azriel’s set was sleek and shadowy, with subtle, intricate engravings along the blade that seemed to shift and move in the light. The hilt was expertly crafted to fit perfectly in his hand, and the syphon stone nestled at the base pulsed with a faint, mysterious glow.

Cassian's sword and dagger were robust and commanding, with bold designs etched along the blades and a heavier, more aggressive build. The handles were wrapped in dark leather that contrasted starkly with the bright gleam of the steel, and his syphon stone throbbed with a powerful, steady light.

"Rhys, these are... incredible," Cassian finally broke the silence, his voice thick with emotion. "Seriously, brother, they're more than I could have hoped for."

Azriel, ever the more reserved of the two, was quietly inspecting his blade, but his impressed expression spoke volumes. He looked up at Rhys, a question in his eyes. "Was this why you sent me to the new blacksmith’s shop? To deliver our old syphons?"

Rhys nodded, a satisfied smile lighting up his face. "Yes, I wanted Y/N to incorporate them into your new weapons. I knew she could breathe new life into those old stones."

Mor leaned forward, her interest piqued. "That was a brilliant touch, Rhys. Y/N’s craftsmanship is truly remarkable. Did you see how Az’s blade almost seems alive with shadows?"

"And Cass’s looks like it could lead an army on its own," Armen added, smirking as she felt back in her comfy sofa.

The conversation spiraled into a lively discussion about the craftsmanship, the battle stories that the old syphons had seen, and how these new weapons would soon make their own marks in history. Laughter and heartfelt thanks filled the room, creating memories that would warm their hearts for many solstices to come.

As the night wore on, filled with more stories and laughter, Cassian and Azriel handled their new gifts with something akin to reverence. It was clear these were more than just weapons; they were symbols of their brotherhood, their strength, and the silent, unbreakable bonds that held them all together.

As the Winter Solstice celebration unfolded in the warm glow of the townhouse, Rhysand and Azriel found a brief moment of quiet near the crackling fire. The High Lord, nursing a glass of wine, caught the spymaster's thoughtful gaze and smiled knowingly.

"Y/N, hmm?" Rhysand began, his tone light with a hint of intrigue. "I heard about her long before she set up shop in Velaris. It was during a meeting with Helion at his court. He couldn't stop boasting about the spear she crafted for him—it was truly magnificent."

Azriel, leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Helion? That's high praise coming from the Day Court. She must be something special."

Rhysand nodded, a gleam of pride in his eyes. "Indeed she is. From what I gather, she keeps to herself, lets her work speak for her. Mysterious, but fiercely talented."

Azriel’s interest was clearly piqued. "She seems to have a knack for keeping a low profile. What do you know about her background?"

Rhysand’s gaze shifted to the fire, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "She’s originally from the Night Court, Velaris to be exact. But beyond that, she’s a bit of an enigma. Not one to share her story readily."

Azriel nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Her work speaks volumes, though. Each piece feels imbued with a story, a history."

Rhysand chuckled softly. "Sounds like someone else I know," he teased, nudging Azriel playfully. "But she’s different. There’s a depth to her craftsmanship that’s rare."

Meanwhile, across the room, Mor and Cassian were engrossed in their own revelry, their laughter filling the air as they enjoyed the solstice festivities with abandon, seemingly oblivious to the more serious conversation unfolding between Rhysand and Azriel.

Azriel’s gaze lingered thoughtfully on the flickering flames before returning to Rhysand. "Do you think she’d be willing to collaborate with us more closely? Her talent could be a valuable asset to our efforts."

Rhysand nodded in agreement. "I was thinking the same thing. Let’s give her time to settle in, though. If she’s as exceptional as we believe, she’ll find her place in our plans soon enough."

Their conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on, but Azriel couldn't shake the intrigue Y/N had stirred in him. Her presence in Velaris promised more than just exceptional craftsmanship—it hinted at alliances, mysteries, and a potential for change that resonated deeply within the heart of the Night Court.

----

A few days after the festive celebrations of the Winter Solstice, Rhysand was deep in discussion with Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court. They were seated in a quiet, sunlit room in the House of Wind, poring over scrolls and plans aimed at enhancing the health infrastructure of their court. They debated new strategies and shared insights on how best to equip their healers with advanced resources.

As their meeting drew to a close, Madja, ever observant, shifted the topic with a hint of intrigue in her tone. "Rhysand, have you heard of the blacksmith Y/N?" she asked, her eyes sharp and probing.

Rhysand nodded, a hint of pride in his response. "Yes, I'm quite familiar with her work. She crafted the weapons I gifted to Cassian and Azriel for the solstice. They were exceptional."

Madja leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a confidential whisper. "Keep her close, Rhysand. She bears a power that could save many lives, far beyond what her craftsmanship alone might suggest."

Rhysand's interest was immediately piqued, his strategic mind already turning over the implications. "What do you mean, Madja? What kind of power are we talking about?"

Madja sighed, and her gaze became distant as she recalled the day she visited Y/N's smithy, prompting a flashback:

The day had been unusually brisk for Velaris, the winter chill seeping through even the warmest of cloaks. Madja pushed open the door to Y/N's smithy, greeted by the familiar clang of metal on metal and the comforting heat that rolled out from the forge. The shop was lively, with customers admiring the array of weapons and tools displayed with meticulous care. The air smelled of iron and burning coals, a scent that Madja had always associated with strength and resilience.

Y/N emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a leather apron, her sharp eyes taking in the scene before settling on Madja. "Healer Madja," Y/N greeted with a nod, a small smile on her lips. "What can I do for you today?"

Madja reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out an old, well-worn sickle. The blade, while still sharp, had seen many years of use. "I need a new sickle," she explained, holding the tool out for Y/N to examine. "Something similar to this, but I’d like it embedded with healing gems—something that can amplify my abilities when I work."

Y/N took the sickle, turning it over in her hands, studying the craftsmanship with a discerning eye. "I can do that," she said after a moment. "I’ll need a few days to gather the right materials, but I’ll make sure it’s exactly what you need."

As they spoke, the shop was bustling around them. Alexander, ever energetic and eager to help, was darting about, juggling several tasks at once. At one point, he was carrying an armful of swords, trying to show a client the finer details of a blade while managing the chaos around him. Madja watched with a smile, amused by the boy’s enthusiasm.

But then, in his haste, Alex’s foot caught on the edge of a carpet that had bunched up beneath the weight of all the activity. He stumbled forward, the swords in his arms clattering to the ground with a sharp, metallic crash. His wide eyes filled with panic as he lost his balance, teetering dangerously.

Y/N reacted instantly, her hand shooting out to catch Alex before he could fall, her grip steady and sure. But in the chaos, Madja’s old sickle, which had been resting precariously on the edge of the counter, was knocked off, plummeting toward the floor—and directly toward Alex.

Madja’s heart leaped into her throat, but before she could move, Y/N’s other hand lashed out, snatching the sickle by the blade just inches from Alex’s head. The sharp edge sliced through Y/N’s palm, blood welling up immediately. But the sickle never reached the boy. Instead, Y/N held it firmly, her expression more concerned with Alex than her own injury.

"Alex, are you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice calm despite the cut on her hand.

Alex, wide-eyed and shaken, nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Nana, I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s alright," Y/N assured him, her voice gentle. She set the sickle down carefully, then knelt to help Alex gather the fallen swords. "Just be more careful next time, okay?"

Madja stepped forward, her healer’s instincts kicking in as she moved to examine Y/N’s hand. "Let me see that," she insisted, reaching out.

But Y/N pulled her hand back slightly, shaking her head. "It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine."

Madja was about to protest when something caught her eye—small, flickering blue flames that danced across Y/N’s wound, sealing it shut with a soft, almost musical hum. The flames vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind smooth, unbroken skin where the cut had been just moments before.

Madja stared, her mind racing. "What... was that?" she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Y/N seemed unfazed, her focus still on Alex, making sure he was steady on his feet. "Nothing to worry about," she said, her tone casual. But there was a tension in her voice that didn’t escape Madja’s notice.

The healer hesitated, unsure of what she had just witnessed, but knowing better than to press the issue in front of others. "If you’re sure," she finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in her eyes.

Y/N nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "I am. Thank you, Madja."

Madja left the shop soon after, but the image of those blue flames stayed with her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that what she had seen was more than just a simple healing ability—there was something deeper, something powerful about Y/N that she couldn’t yet understand.

Back in the present, Rhysand’s expression was contemplative, his mind turning over the possibilities. "Blue flames that heal… That’s not something you see every day. You’re sure it was real, Madja?"

Madja nodded, her expression serious. "I’ve never seen anything like it before, Rhysand. There’s a power in her that could be incredibly valuable. Her abilities could redefine healing, or perhaps... something more."

Rhysand leaned back, his thoughts racing. "This is something I need to look into further. If Y/N possesses such power, she could play a crucial role in the future of the Night Court."

"Be careful, Rhysand," Madja warned gently. "Power like that isn’t always easy to control. But if anyone can guide her, it’s you."

Rhysand nodded, the weight of this new revelation settling on his shoulders. He knew he needed to approach this carefully, to understand the full extent of Y/N’s abilities—and to ensure that whatever power she held, it would be used to protect and strengthen the Night Court.

----

The day had been kind to you, the steady hum of work filling your hours, and now, as night fell over Velaris, you decided to treat Alex to a well-deserved meal. The two of you strolled along the Sidra, the river reflecting the twinkling lights of the city, casting everything in a magical glow. The restaurant you chose was a cozy, yet elegant establishment with an outdoor terrace that overlooked the water. The warm, inviting lights and the soft murmur of other diners created a serene atmosphere that was perfect for unwinding after a long day.

You had dressed nicely for the occasion, opting for well-fitted pants and a tailored shirt that allowed you to feel both comfortable and presentable. Alex, too, had cleaned up well, his usual enthusiasm shining brightly in his eyes as you both took your seats at a small table by the river.

"This place is amazing, Nana," Alex said, his voice filled with excitement as he scanned the menu. "We should come here more often!"

You smiled, taking in the joy on his face. "We’ve had a good run lately, haven’t we? I figured we deserved a little treat."

The waiter arrived, and you both placed your orders— your young apprentice going for sugary drink and you for a glass of white wine. As you sipped your drink, Alex leaned in with a mischievous grin.

"You remember that client who came in last week?" Alex began, his tone full of amusement. "The one who insisted he needed a sword for 'taming wild beasts'? Turns out he thought the sword would actually talk to the animals and convince them to behave."

You nearly choked on your wine, giggling at the absurdity of it. "No! Did he really? I thought he just wanted a strong blade for hunting or something."

Alex nodded, laughing. "Yeah! I had to explain to him that swords don’t exactly come with instructions for bear negotiations."

Your laughter was soft and genuine, the joy of the moment spreading warmth through your chest. It was in that moment of shared humor that the door to the restaurant opened, and you caught sight of Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian entering. They were dressed as impeccably as ever, their presence immediately commanding attention in the room. 

The three of them were clearly expected, as a table near the river, a bit more private, was promptly made available for them. However, before they were seated, Rhysand’s gaze fell upon you and Alex. His eyes lit up with recognition, and a charming smile spread across his face as he made his way over to your table, the others following behind.

"Y/N," Rhysand greeted warmly, his voice smooth as ever. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here." He turned to Alex with a grin. "And this must be the famous Alexander I’ve heard so much about."

Alex, never one to shy away from attention, beamed up at the High Lord. "That’s me! Nice to see you again, my lord!"

Rhysand chuckled, then glanced back at his brothers. "Y/N, allow me to introduce Cassian, our esteemed General of the Illyrian legions. I believe you’ve already met Azriel, our spymaster."

Cassian extended a hand with a friendly grin. "I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work, Y/N. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the master behind the blade."

You shook his hand, feeling a bit shy under the attention but managing a smile. "The pleasure’s mine. I’ve heard a lot about you as well."

Azriel, standing slightly behind Rhysand, gave you a nod of acknowledgment. "Good to see you again, Y/N."

Rhysand then motioned toward their table, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Why don’t you both join us for dinner? We’d love the company."

Caught off guard, you hesitated, glancing at Alex before responding. "Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. This is your night out, after all."

Cassian waved away your concern with a laugh. "Nonsense! The more, the merrier."

You were still about to politely decline when Alex piped up, his eyes wide with excitement. "Please, Nana! I’ve always wanted to have dinner with them. Plus, I think they’ve got some cool stories to tell!"

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile. Alex’s enthusiasm was hard to resist, and the idea of joining them, despite your initial reluctance, was becoming more appealing. Finally, you sighed playfully and nodded. "Alright, alright. You win, Alex."

Rhysand’s smile broadened as he gestured toward their table. "Perfect. Let’s make this an evening to remember."

The evening by the Sidra continued to unfold beautifully as you and Alex joined Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel at their table. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, the city lights reflecting off the river, casting a soft glow over the terrace. The five of you settled in comfortably, and soon, food and drinks were ordered—a mix of hearty dishes and lighter fare, with wine flowing freely.

As the meal progressed, the conversation naturally turned to more personal topics. Rhysand, ever the curious and perceptive High Lord, leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest. "Y/N, you’re a bit of a mystery. I’d love to know more about your story—where you’re from, your family, how you came to be the talented blacksmith you are today."

You hesitated for a moment, swirling the wine in your glass as you considered where to begin. The table fell into a quiet, expectant silence, all eyes on you.

"Well," you started, "I’m originally from Velaris. My father was a guard here, dedicated to protecting the city, and my mother came from a family of old politicians who eventually left Hewn City to make a life here."

Cassian nodded thoughtfully, sipping his drink. "Sounds like they were strong people. What happened to them?"

You sighed softly, the memories bittersweet. "My mother died giving birth to me. It was... hard on my father. They were mates, and the pain of losing her was too much for him. He passed away a few hours after she did."

Cassian’s brow furrowed, his voice laced with concern and curiosity. "He just... passed away? How?"

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze steadily. "He killed himself. The bond they shared was so strong that living without her wasn’t an option for him."

The table grew solemn, the weight of your words settling over everyone. Rhysand reached out, "I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s a lot for anyone to bear."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture. “I never actually knew them so I’m fine with it I guess. After they died, I was raised by my father’s best friend—my master. He taught me everything I know about blacksmithing. We traveled to most of the courts and across the continent, honing my skills. Alex," you added with a fond glance at the boy beside you, "is my master’s son. After my master passed away, I took Alex under my wing."

Alex, who had been quietly listening, smiled up at you, his admiration evident. “Y/N's the best teacher. She’s taught me everything."

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, spoke up, his tone thoughtful. "You’ve had quite the journey, Y/N. It takes strength to turn pain into something as beautiful and powerful as your work."

You smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "It wasn’t easy, but it’s the only way I know how to honor them."

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed freely, accompanied by the delicious food and the soothing ambiance of the Sidra beside you. After sharing your story, a question that had been lingering at the back of your mind finally surfaced.

“You three,” you began, glancing between Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, “are you truly brothers? I’ve heard stories, but I’ve always wondered how much truth there is to them.”

Cassian chuckled, exchanging a glance with Rhysand and Azriel. “Well, not by blood,” he admitted, “but in every way that matters, we’re brothers.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression softening as he looked at his two closest friends. “We grew up together in the Illyrian war camps. It wasn’t an easy upbringing, but we forged bonds that can’t be broken. Cassian and Azriel have been at my side through everything—through battles, victories, losses… they’re my family.”

Azriel, who was usually reserved, added quietly, “We’ve faced more together than most blood-related brothers ever would. That kind of connection goes beyond anything as simple as blood.”

Cassian leaned in, a grin spreading across his face. “And if you need proof, just look at how often we bicker like brothers.”

You laughed softly, understanding now the depth of their bond. “It’s clear there’s a lot of history between you. It’s… comforting to see that even in a place as powerful as the Night Court, family—however it’s made—still matters most.”

Rhysand smiled at you, his eyes reflecting the sentiment. “Family is everything to us, Y/N. And it’s something that grows—not just with blood, but with loyalty and trust.”

At this, Cassian turned his attention to Alex, who was listening intently. “Speaking of family, Alex, how about joining ours in a different way? Ever thought about training to be a warrior? You’ve got the makings of a good one.”

Alex looked up at Cassian, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What time would the training start?”

Cassian grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Around dawn. What do you think?”

Alex wrinkled his nose playfully, causing everyone to chuckle. “Dawn? That’s way too late! By then, Nana and I have already finished our training.”

The table fell into a momentary silence, the surprise evident on the faces of the Night Court’s inner circle. Azriel raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You train before dawn?”

You couldn’t help but smile at their reactions. “What did you expect? We don’t just create weapons; we know how to wield them, too. Alex is becoming quite skilled, actually.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, visibly impressed. “Well, consider me impressed. Maybe I’ll join you two sometime—if you’ll have me.”

Alex beamed with pride. “You’re welcome anytime, but don’t expect to keep up!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the earlier heaviness of your shared stories giving way to a light-hearted camaraderie that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The night continued with more stories, jokes, and the easy flow of conversation that only comes when people truly connect.

As the evening drew to a close, and the stars twinkled brightly above Velaris, you felt a deep sense of belonging. This dinner by the Sidra had revealed not just the pasts of the people around you, but had begun weaving your own story into the fabric of their lives. It was the start of something new, something meaningful—both for you and for Alex—and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

tag list: @annamariereads16 @hanatsuki-hime @elsie-bells

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

[fantastic-nonsense]

okay I am engaging in some public accountability because I have a ridiculous number of WIPs and I actually want to get some of them done. so I'm going to list out all of the WIPs I consider to be active, and by the end of the year I hope to have at least 5 of them finished and published

DCU:

Batfam PJO AU [outlining+writing stage, 500 words in]

Bruce, Harvey, and the RY1 Aftermath Fic [ideas stage, outlining]

Damian and Tim Time Travel [ideas stage, outlining]

Dick and Donna-5 Stages of Grief [ideas stage, outlining]

Donna and Tim Space-Time Road Trip [ideas stage, outlining]

Grayson+Ric Arc Fix It ft. Tim Trauma Run PART TWO [ideas stage, outlining]

Jason Paranormal Detective Agency WIP [outlining+writing, 1k words in]

Leave Me and Live (Jason) [writing, 7k words in]

Bruce Wayne Religion Discourse Fic [ideas stage, outlining]

The Rise of Oracle [outlining+writing, 800 words in]

To Look for Herself in the Sunrise (Cass) [writing, 5k words in]

universal donor (Dick) [ideas stage, outlining]

WW Antiquities Repatriation Saga [ideas stage, outlining]

Six of Crows:

Ghafa Parents Twoshot [ideas stage, outlining]

Horse Racing AU [outline done, 2k words in]

Kanej Snow Queen AU [ideas stage, outlining]

Kaz-Wesper Wedding Gift Fic [writing, 900 words in]

on the seas and in the city [outlining+writing, 4k words in]

Forced to Choose fic [writing, 19.5k words in]

To Build a Legend (Inej Knife Fic) [final editing stages, currently being published]

to love him is freedom (kanej) [writing, 7.6k words in]

Unorthodox Methods for Parenting Criminal Children [writing, 3k words in]

Other Fandoms:

Meanwhile in the Galactic Senate (Star Wars) [ideas stage, outlining]

The Last Jedi Reworking (Star Wars) [outline done, 3.5k words in]

De Rolo Trauma Electric Boogaloo (Critical Role/Legend of Vox Machina) [ideas stage, outlining]

De Rolo Favorite Siblings (Critical Role/Legend of Vox Machina) [ideas stage, outlining]

Susan Stays AU (Narnia) [outline done]

Problem of Susan Character Study (Narnia) [writing, 750 words in]

30 Years Later Interview (Hunger Games) [writing, 600 words in]

Endgame Revamp WIP (Marvel Cinematic Universe) [outline done]

[uniasus]

Black Bird Sounds - by PaperPuffin

fic rec! 4K DP x DC

Summary: Cassandra Cain has a home now. It's different and new and wonderful. It doesn't mean that she's going to leave Danny behind.

Comments: Cass and Danny became siblings-by-choice when they meet on Gotham's street, and Cass continues to do what she can for Danny after getting adopted, even as he tells her not too. I love how Danny just knows Cass, can read her body so well it doesn't matter she's in the mask. And Bruce's description of the batfam is spot on.

[destieltaggedfic]

Oh my god please tell me you have fics where people think Dean is talking about his wife or girlfriend when he mentions Cas and then they find out Cas is a guy

Do I ever?!

dean's coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda – cowboydeanwinchester   Ao3

Set 15x20 didn’t happen AU.  Dean’s co-workers at the garage all have different ideas about Dean’s personal life, due to the seemingly conflicting things he mentions about his family.  They’re all about to be surprised when they finally meet Cas and Jack.

Word Count: 4k                                 No Sex

Impala Rendezvous - sandean_cas   Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe.  Sam knows that Dean has started seeing someone, but doesn’t understand why Cas is so upset when he mentions the woman and as the months go by Cas gets more upset every time he asks Sam about her.  (Cas is spelled Cass)

Word Count: 3k                                 Non-Graphic Sex

Dean Winchester, loving husband and father – impravidus   Ao3

15x20 didn’t happen AU.   When Dean talks about Cas and Jack people expect that to mean Dean has a loving wife and a toddler running around.

Word Count: 6k                                 No Sex

Revelations – littlewonder   Ao3

Set S14.  A talk with John during Lebanon has a surprising result when John assumes Cas is a woman and that Dean is in love with her due to the way Dean talks.

Word Count: 1k                                 No Sex

Just unattached drifter stuff – Tossukka   Ao3

Set 15x20 didn’t happen AU.  Its Valentine’s Day and Sam thought Dean was past picking up random chicks.  But when Dean tells him he has a date and the following day is covered in hickies it seems like he was wrong.  Or is he?

Word Count: 2k                                 Non-Graphic Sex

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 8

Vice

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: Sinner

Word count: ~4k Warning: Mentions of Blood. Mild Torture. Hints of Stalking. [PLOT]

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I'll be adding another tag to from now on. Chapters that include interaction between Azriel and Ayla will have ROMANCE, irrespective of the theme in them, and the rest, PLOT. So you can pick and choose whichever you want to read. This one needs major editing but editing is hard. Hope you still enjoy it.

The beats thrummed through the wood beneath his feet, through the velvet cushion against his wings, and through his very skin. Empty laughter and delirious cries filled the brief, fleeting silences. Globes of lights swirled and shimmered close to the ceiling, their harsh glares coasting over the upper landing where the private booths were situated. The red carpets were too bright, the air too thick, the liquor too strong. Everything that made Rita’s a beacon to the souls who longed for a taste of nightlife.

Yet, the true temptation was across the room. A beaded curtain at the entrance wavered—red flashing behind, like the maw of a beast waiting for its prey to walk right into its belly. Outside, there was no limitation or restriction. Males and females indulged in vices and each other to their hearts’ content. Even so, what lay beyond that veil was far more enticing. Drunk on liquor and lust, it wasn’t a mystery what transpired. It wasn’t merely the pleasure of the body these souls sought. The allure of secrecy and the courage it granted them to explore their urges and unleash their darkness, test it, and perhaps, tame it. Azriel should know, for he had been behind those locked doors a few times himself.

A cheer rumbled through the air sending the shadows wrapped around him in skitters. Azriel took a deep breath. Sweat, smoke, and sex—the stench he once was accustomed to, he now despised with his being.

‘Staring a little early, are we?’ asked Cass, as if he weren’t filling a glass to the brim himself. Though Azriel ignored his smug face, he couldn’t disagree, after all, this was the only thing that numbed his ache.

‘Let me guess,’ said Rhys, ‘Our weaponsmith is being. . .difficult again?’

Our. 

Azriel gritted his teeth at how easily the word fell off his lips. He should have known. As he left the House of Wind, Cass gave him a monstrous grin, and no sooner had he found a booth his friends settled on either side, trapping him. For a moment, he considered disappearing amidst the crowd, but one look at the bodies writhing against each other rather obscenely and the decision was made.

Rita’s didn’t hold the same appeal anymore. The fifty years Rhys was. . .gone had changed their lives. They were neither young nor reckless, no matter how much Mor played pretend. While Cass preferred the nights in River House so Nesta spent her evenings with her sisters than in a bar, Rhys would have his wings nailed than spend a day away from his son. And lately, he rarely touched his precious whiskey. 

Now, as the two sat beside him giving up everything they had built in the past years only for his company, fear began to unfurl in the depths of his heart.

Azriel glanced across the room again.

A harsh thump broke their silence as Cass set his glass down, ‘Are you sure you want to add one more to that list?’

As fortune would have it, his family overheard his conversation with Ayla three months ago. Azriel knew this day was coming—when the two taunted him as though they hadn’t watched their mates fuck another. He had at least hoped to be drunk enough. Pity, he wasn’t.

Rhys arched his brow. Amusement shone in his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me she is going ahead with it.’

‘I won’t.’ Azriel surveyed the faces of the passersby who gawked at them. The High Lord and his Illyrian General drew too much attention. Shadows enveloped him once again as soon as another flare swept away from the booth. ‘Are you done discussing my sex life?’

‘Sure, if you had one.’ Cass clasped his hands on the table, raising his voice over the steady beats. ‘How long has it been? Four months?’

Six. He couldn’t imagine touching or being touched by anyone but his mate since the bond. Not that he minded the celibacy, but when every inch of his skin ached and that familiar fire burned through his veins, he knew it had to be her.

Seeing that male with her, Azriel solaced himself with petty hope—a male a day and Ayla would free him of this torment soon. But, she was vicious. She savoured this twisted game of hers. Months passed, three, and so was the count of chosen victors to claim her. 

Had it been someone else, Azriel would have dragged her into that office, and kissed that smirk off her lips while he sank his fingers into her warmth. Had it been someone else, he would have toyed with her until she begged him to take her.

‘It’s concerning you know that. Aren’t you too invested?’ Rhys’s voice broke the spell of his fantasy. A smirk tugged at his lips.

‘Not when he’s taking it out on me every morning,’ grumbled Cass.

Rhys grinned. ‘It certainly helps your case when you put it like that.’

Laughter began in Azriel’s throat, cutting off into a gasp as a shudder rolled under his skin. He sank back into the cushions, pinched his eyes closed, and tuned out the pounding in his ears. His legs shifted on their own, spreading wide to relieve some tension.

‘Remind me, Az,’ Rhys was staring at him. His eyes carried a glint. Somehow he knew yet he pressed, ‘Did you also tell her what you did to the females you took to your bed?’

Azriel managed to chuckle. ‘Why, are you looking for notes to please Feyre?’

‘I’m not the one a breath away from pleasuring myself with an audience.’

‘Fuck you,’ spat Azriel.

‘Believe me,’ Rhys purred, ‘I’m sorted for tonight.’ 

Cass laughed loud enough to cut through the wails of delight from below. A wave of shadows knocked the glass from his hand, and before it did the same to Rhys’s, a cloud of starry night blocked its path. Bastards, both of them were.

Wiping a tear from his eye—there clearly was none—and with a cruel smile on his face, Cass said, ‘Did you try talking to her?’

‘That’s what got him here,’ said Rhys. ‘I wouldn’t recommend it again.’

Azriel ran a hand through his hair. For centuries, he managed to keep his life private and with one conversation, he had become the ridicule of his family. If Nyx could talk, Azriel was certain he would taunt him too.

His breaths laboured. A myriad of emotions smothered every bit of his senses. Jealousy for the male who had the honour of coaxing moans from her lips. Longing to be the one witnessing her consumed by ecstasy. Yearning to touch and savour every inch of her body. Shadows crept up his arms but they refused to sing, a mild comfort for they didn’t narrate his embarrassment.

‘Do you need the booth to yourself?’ asked Rhys, prying him away from his agony.

Azriel glared at his stupid smirk. ‘Can’t suck me off anymore?’

Rhys’s response was lost on him as another shiver raked through his body. This was a mistake. He should have stayed in the House of Wind, far away from this square.

‘Ayla?’ 

No one dared utter her name in his vicinity. Hearing it, even in his prick of a brother’s voice, sounded like a symphony. 

‘You sense her,’ said Rhys carefully. His words were more surprised than guarded. He nudged Azriel’s glass closer, the drink still untouched.

‘I don’t.’ 

The two fell silent at his harsh tone. 

Light shifted across the room, fleeting over a movement deep in the hallway. A male walked out through the curtain adjusting the lapels of his tunic. Its intricate gold threadwork, the glinting gems on his fingers, and the delicate red scarf wrapped loosely around his neck were enough indication of which part of the city he was from. He made a desperate effort to tidy his hair, glancing around before he headed for the main doors.

Noting his stare, Cass shook his head, ‘It’s a bad idea.’

‘Is it?’ Rhys grinned watching the empty doorway. ‘His mate is having her fill, why shouldn’t he?’ He shot a wink at Azriel, ‘I’m sure this will win her over after that talk about his conquests.’

If his words were meant to unnerve him, Rhys succeeded. His life sounded pathetic, more so than he felt.

Ignoring Cass's curses to come back, Azriel left the booth making sure to land a kick to Rhys's leg on his way out.

The chill in the night breeze was a soothing balm even before he stepped out. The aroma of charring meat and herbs from the stalls on either side of the pathway sweetened the air. Quiet murmurs replaced the pulsing rhythm behind the closed doors. But Azriel was the most grateful for the dull lights marking the way.

He navigated through the ambling crowd clapping his wings close and his shadows shaded them from curious eyes. Even in a city like Velaris, an Illyrian was still an oddity. Fortunately, Rhys and Cass didn’t pursue him this time. He wondered if they had also followed him on his little detour before he came to Rita’s. 

The path ahead forked into two and Azriel slowed his pace, waiting for signs of his friends for another minute. Darkness wreathing around him swallowed every sound, including the fall of his footsteps. As he turned around the building, he tamed his powers dimming the glow of his siphons to a lingering hue.

Moonlight barely illuminated the alley. Red tassels rustled in the stillness. Gravel crunched beneath unsteady feet. The stranger halted and looked over his shoulder, his breath quickening. ‘Is anyone here?’ His words echoed.

Silence answered him, except for the distant melody from the streets.

His eyes darted around lingering on the unlit corners. His shoulders fell. Sighing heavily, the male faced forward only to meet a whorling darkness. He staggered back.

‘They are harmless,’ Azriel whispered into his ear.

With a gasp, the stranger twisted around. Before another sound could escape his parted lips, shadows slid into his mouth. He griped at his throat clawing through his skin to rid of the hollow choking him.

Azriel inched forward. ‘It won’t kill you,’ he said, his voice as gentle as the breeze that drifted past them. ‘But you might want to stop resisting.’

Tears pooled in the corner of his grey eyes as the male let out a strangled cry. 

Slowly, Azriel eased his dagger from its sheath making a show for his captive. In moments like these, he preferred the recognition; he didn’t have to imply the consequences. ‘As long as you’re honest. . .you’re safe.’

Shadows rose around them into rippling walls. The male, still clutching his throat, backed away, searching for a way out. When he found none, he nodded.

‘What do you want from her?’

Dark mist sputtered from his mouth. He tried again and again, and with each wasted attempt, his breaths grew ragged and his cries louder. Tears spilt from his eyes freely, and yet, Azriel simply watched.

Pathetic.

When the whispers first reached him, Azriel assumed him to be one of the recent lovers returning for more. He dived into his work, taking on missions in Hewn City on those nights. Days away from Ayla cleared the fog in his mind, however slowly. He had called off his spies long ago and diverted them to other tasks, the ones they were paid for. Still, reports from the borders poured in and among them was the list of travellers to the city. It brought a jolting awareness to the threat Azriel had been so glad to trade for his lovelorn ache.

It worsened when his shadows returned frantic one night, hissing about a “suspicious male”. Whenever Ayla was concerned, Azriel learned to not trust the shadows anymore. Everything he did was wrong, everything he said was wrong. 

Although, curiosity was a curse and Azriel was born cursed in more ways than one. 

The one in question was tall and muscled, mildly tanned and dark-haired—exactly how his mate preferred her males. There was nothing to suspect. Until the wraiths spotted him following Ayla on her way back from her smithy twice.

The suspect often wandered the streets for hours and only visited Pharus when Ayla stayed upstairs and the bar was crowded. He sat at the counter and entertained anyone who kept him company. As the nights drew late, he honed his attention to the tired bartender charming her with his sympathy. That brought him favour from Uri too.

And none of them noticed the unusual shadow cast by the display. A specific bar owner would have, Azriel was certain. What her friends didn't realise was he never needed to be let in.

Then, it started. ‘The owner, she seems lonely.’

Ever so loyal, that was all it took for Uri to defend Ayla. He spared no details—the hag, the shop, and Orvin. Even a “strange prick” at the back of his neck from a rogue shadow couldn’t stop him.

Though, the male remained unsatisfied. ‘Does she live alone?’ ‘Does she travel often?’ ‘Does she get many visitors?’ ‘When is her next trip?’

In four days, he learnt more than Azriel did in his first month. He picked his moments when the server and bartender were likely to spill in their exhaustion. If they turned wary, he would chuckle and a blush would tinge his cheeks. ‘She’s interesting is all.’ He looked more desperate than a lovesick begging for scraps, and yet, Uri looked to Raya with gleeful eyes.

Azriel lost all reservations then. It was his turn to do some learning.

He expected the stranger to meet with his charge when he went to Rita’s. But all he did was drink more, fuck someone in one of the pleasure chambers, and leave.

This Hewn City lowlife was who her friends deemed fit for Ayla. One who saw her, who knew her, and still fucked another in a backroom. One who couldn’t defend himself, who stood frozen in fear and spewed garbles.

Shadows slithered out his mouth and wrapped around his throat in warning.

The male took a gulp of air. ‘I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you!’ His voice grated from the gagging and choking. ‘She approached me. She wouldn’t stop touching me. I vow on my life.’ An eager step forward. ‘I noticed your eyes on her back in the bar. She’s yours! All yours. Take her.’

‘Ayla,’ said Azriel quietly. The shadows mimicked his temper simmering under the surface, barely restrained. ‘You have been following her.’

Realisation set in those grey eyes and fear darkened them. His fingers slackened around his throat. ‘I—I—’

‘Lying won’t help you walk out of here alive.’

‘I don’t know who she is.’

Azriel smiled. ‘Yes, you do.’ He gently took the male’s wrist and coaxed it forward. When he rolled the sleeve up revealing his arm, the male tensed. ‘You lie,’ Azriel brought the Truth-Teller down in a swift, precise flick, ‘I’m forced to hurt you.’

Blood pooled in the groove of his elbow. His breaths quickened as shock cleared and pain set in. His fingers twitched but he couldn’t move them, nor would he feel them.

‘You won’t need a healer. Your body will heal on its own soon. But that’s what makes this convenient.’ Azriel observed, his prey only stared at his frozen arm. ‘I can do this all night and you’ll still live.’ Hopeful eyes shot up. ‘Until I get the truth out of you.’

The male tugged his hand back. A real scream tore from him, though it didn’t live very long in the shadows. With the nerves and sinew damaged, pain exploded down his arm even with the slightest movement. He pressed his fingers under the cut trying to numb himself. The bleeding began to slow. ‘Please,’ he rasped, ‘please. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

Azriel almost felt terrible. Almost. He gripped the blade again. He took all but one breath and his back collided with the cold wall. His wings thrashed and protested in pain.

Violet eyes glowered through dark night and shadows. Azriel snarled. Rhys shoved an arm against his chest pinning him in place.

Azriel looked over Rhys’s shoulder. The stalker had the wits not to scream again. He backed away from the two fighting for dominance, his gaze only on the blade still gleaming with his blood.

Rhys ordered, ‘Leave,’ but he didn’t trust his brother enough to look away.

Shadows barricading the exits thickened and closed in around them. The male didn’t move. For a brief moment, his eyes glazed over and then he took off. And, right before he broke through the wall, he stopped.

‘Leave.’ 

His body struggled against Rhys’s command. ‘She told me to,’ the male said, turning around. His eyes were only on Azriel. ‘She wa—She wants to know a—a—about that one.’

Azriel pushed at Rhys. ‘Let him talk.’

‘It’s not me.’

’Sh—’ The male continued, not caring for the words of the other two. ‘She’s waiting.’

‘Who?’ Azriel demanded. ‘Where is she?’

The male blinked. ‘She misses the sun,’ he sighed, removing the scarf from his neck and mindlessly wrapping it around his wound. ‘She misses life.’ He backed towards the exit and Azriel fought against Rhys’s hold. ‘She likes it here. It’s the only place the roses grow.’

‘Who?’ growled Azriel.

Rhys frowned, ‘There’s nothing in his mind. No memories. No thoughts.’

Azriel froze. It had happened before, only once. ‘The crown?’

Rhys returned his worried gaze, ‘No—’ 

The stranger broke through the veil, claws made of darkness reached for him. Startled cries filled the air, feet pattered on the cobblestones, wood and metal crashed on the ground.

Stop. Rhys’s voice took an edge in his mind, hardening with the High Lord’s power.

Shadows dispersed and became one with the night leaving an eerie calm behind.

Gone, the word echoed in his ear. Azriel shoved his brother off him. ‘You should’ve stayed out of this,’ he gritted his teeth, running his blood-stained hand through his hair. ‘I had him.’

‘That’s how far you’d have gotten with him. He wasn’t going to talk.’ 

Azriel steadied his breath. ‘You said he had no thoughts. What did you mean by that?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rhys frowned skyward. It was unlikely of him to admit it so openly. When he had no answer, he preferred silences and riddles. ‘He could speak. He was aware of what was done to him.’ 

Just another daemati then—however, adept at hiding even from the most powerful one to exist. 

‘You need to stay calm.’ Rhys stated with utter lethargy, although his effort to steer the conversation away didn’t go unnoticed.

Azriel scoffed, stepping around him. ‘That’s rich coming from you. Have you forgotten how “calm” you were when Feyre acted as your spy?’

Rhys pursed his lips.

The war revealed their worst parts to them. Breaking the Hybern soldiers wasn’t as yielding as they hoped it to be, but Azriel had been making progress. As days passed and Feyre’s return seemed precarious, Rhys grew tired of waiting. Night after night, he returned to Hewn City. He ignored every warning and tortured the prisoners himself; he didn’t invade their minds, he broke them, limb by limb. Had Azriel not stepped in, they would have been left with no one to interrogate.

Neither spoke of it again. It was a secret the two brothers shared. Only darkness recognised darkness.

‘It’s why I’m warning you. I can’t have my torturer go berserk on me.’ Rhys looked him up and down, his gaze softening, and with a snap of his fingers, the blood from Azriel’s hands vanished. ‘I understand you worry about Ayla—’

‘You understand nothing.’

‘—I have a mate too,’ he said softly. ‘I live with that fear too, Az. Everyday. Feyre and I—we’ve lost and found each other more than once.’

It was not the same; Rhys had a mate to lose. 

Pulling a rag from a pocket of shadow, Azriel wiped at the stains on the Truth-Teller instead. He breathed in the stench of blood clinging to the air. It seemed the only constant in his life; it calmed him even. It proved he wasn’t in the waiting. It proved he wasn’t hopeless, useless. He had done something.

‘Fine, what now? Do you intend to carve everyone who looks at her?’ 

Azriel cast a glance up and lifted a brow. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

Rhys slipped his hands into his pockets, the portrait of his usual cool. ‘You need to be stealthy. After all, you wouldn’t want her to learn of the bond this way.’ When Azriel’s eyes hardened, a smirk etched onto his face, smug that he had hit the right nerve. ‘That’s twice she’s been targeted now. We need to know what she’s hiding, and you’re the only one she may be inclined to trust.’

His instincts were right. It was for Ayla that the two had been so brotherly. Azriel growled, struggling to keep the bite from his words, ‘You want to use me against my mate?’

‘No,’ Rhys said slowly, ‘I want you to protect your mate. What occurred tonight will ensure whoever is after her knows she is not alone.’ Azriel shoved the dagger into its sheath rather harshly and made to walk past, but Rhys stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. ‘This isn’t about her, Az. You are bound to her.’

Every minute standing in that alley was a wasted moment to find that stalker or the mystery female. Azriel levelled a look at Rhys, ‘You didn’t follow me here out of concern for my mate.’

The hand slipped off him. Rhys poised himself, the softness marking his face and voice vanishing. ‘It’s quiet in the South. It doesn’t look like Tamlin is eager to revive his court anytime soon.’

Guilt filled him briefly, yet Azriel hid it well like everything else. ‘I’ll have someone look into it.’

Rhys frowned, ‘I want you to do it.’

‘My spies are capable of handling this.’

‘You will leave at dawn,’ continued Rhys, ignoring his words and glare, ‘Lucien should be in the mortal lands. Still, I’d suggest you stick to the shadows.’

Azriel stepped closer, ‘You want information,’ his voice as quiet and lethal as his shadows, ‘It doesn’t matter where it comes from.’

‘Need I remind you, shadowsinger, you are my spymaster.’

Dark power skittered over Azriel’s skin. Soothing and ravenous. The longer he resisted, the stronger it suffocated him, snuffing even his shadows out. His body strained against the urge to bow to his High Lord.

Through it all, the vision of that stranger in Pharus filled his mind—smiling at Raya, talking merrily with Uri. Had he run off to the bar again? Ayla was home that night, alone and unaware.

Had the male been instructed to only spy? Was he the only one sent after her? 

Azriel’s breath froze, his body grew cold.

Had they been invited into her home already?

Shadows cut through the star-speckled darkness and writhed around him. His wings flared. Rhys’s eyes glimmered with his power, Azriel snarled back and shot to the sky.

Next Chapter: Whore

[themculibrary]

Marvel Siblings Masterlist 2

part one

AJ And Cass

bedside manner (ao3) - writethewolvesaway G, 3k

Summary: “You okay, Cass?” he asks. 

“I-” Cass clutches at his water again. “I don’t really,” his voice cracks, “ I don’t really feel so good.”"

-

Cass falls sick when Bucky is watching him. And other things happen, kind of. That’s the main thing, though.

Find Our Way Home (ao3) - Lokinyan G, 15k

Summary: Bucky is invited to stay with the Wilson Family over Christmas.

letters we never sent (ao3) - MissAmyShay bucky/sarah G, 6k

Summary: Bucky likes Sarah. Sarah likes Bucky.

Cass and AJ think it’s time for their relationship to progress to a new level.

Scorpion Games (ao3) - Sholio T, 12k

Summary: Sam’s nephews have been taken by HYDRA. Zemo is getting them back. No matter what.

weekend at the wilson’s (ao3) - orphan_account bucky/sarah T, 3k

Summary: With her out of town, that meant that Bucky would be assigned her duties in her substitution. He’s watched the boys before but it’s never been for more than a few hours (considerably the reason for Sarah’s prior concerns.) But Bucky had siblings of his own and he knew how to tend to children’s needs. Cass and AJ weren’t even difficult children to begin with anyway, so he wasn’t worry about the end results of this weekend at all.

—

or bucky’s first weekend alone watching the boys.

Billy And Tommy

family is forever (ao3) - lady_romanov wanda/vision T, 35k

Summary: “So long, darling,” Vision says, as the walls of their house turn to dust, and Wanda watches as he disintegrates right from her hands, floating away in a cloud of gold as the real Westview reappears around her. Wanda’s empty hands fall back to her sides as she struggles to breathe evenly, and just as grief is starting to claw its way up her throat to choke her, she is startled by a voice behind her.

“Mom?”

(AU: Tommy and Billy survive.)

Perfect As You Are (ao3) - boopoopeedoo wanda/vision T, 4k

Summary: Wanda and Vision’s resolve to remain just friends is tested when Tommy and Billy rope Vision into rescuing Wanda from a bad date.

So Take Me Home (ao3) - wisteriafic wanda/vision T, 16k

Summary: Wanda and Vision, living a happy little life in the suburbs.

Zenith (ao3) - Cyan_Rain wanda/vision T, 61k

Summary: Billy and Tommy wake up miles from Westview, in a world that’s nothing like the idyllic life their mother made for them, a world still reeling from a bizarre mass disappearance and reappearance people are starting to call “The Blip.”

Six years later, there has been no sign of Wanda for so long she’s presumed dead. Her children decide it’s time to find answers.

Billy, Tommy, Vision, Doctor Strange, America Chavez, and Reed Richards follow a series of clues to another universe, to a variant Earth so different from their own it might as well be an alien planet, where they will face unknown dangers, strange mysteries, and possibly the Scarlet Witch.

Thor And Loki

All Through the Night (ao3) - gaslightgallows (hearts_blood) G, 832

Summary: Loki’s always had nightmares. Thor has always been a light sleeper.

Break (ao3) - kneelinganon (the_netherlady) G, 19k

Summary:

(Why didn’t you let me go?)

“Let me help you, brother.”

(Not your brother. Never your brother.)

“All things can be mended.”

(You are a fool.)

Grounded (fanfiction.net) - DearCassius G, 29k

Summary: Thor and Loki haven’t been getting along lately and it’s really wearing on Odin’s nerves. As a punishment, he sends them to Earth to attend a mortal school. But when a dangerous new threat arises, will they be able to learn the real value of brotherhood?

Shallow Grave (ao3) - takadainmate N/R, 5k

Summary: Thor finds Loki after his return to life. He’s been gone too long.

Set after The Mighty Thor 12 and before Exiled 01.

Gamora And Nebula

Flesh and Blood (ao3) - Marvelicious (Jayjaybe) T, 1k

Summary: She catches up to Nebula on one of the outer star systems; more precisely, a moon known only by letters and numbers, tucked into the atmosphere of a gas giant.

Port Previously Unknown (ao3) - Hecate N/R, 3k

Summary: Gamora still remembered her parents. Nebula hated her for that.

This Too Shall Last (ao3) - interabang T, 7k

Summary: Gamora through the years with each of her family members.

what we have is not a sisterhood (ao3) - Kierkegarden T, 4k

Summary: “I think your name is beautiful,” he continues, “Nebulae can come from the explosion of a dying star, but they can also mark the place where new stars begin.” “You’re my new star,” Nebula whispers back, and for the first time since he picked her up, she feels the sting of tears in her eyes. He reaches towards her, one giant thumb almost covering her face, as he gently wipes them away. A story of hope built in negative space.

Pietro And Wanda

Birthday (ao3) - MantaI305ApollosChariot G, 2k

Summary: Wanda and Pietro get some new markers for their fourth birthday. Unintentional mischief commences.

Moving Pictures (ao3) - red_starshine wanda/vision T, 30k

Summary: She doesn’t look right.

She’s the same age as Wanda, his twin sister, like the oppressive voice in Peter’s head keeps telling him, but her face is different. Close, but not quite there. He’d never seen his Wanda look this distraught.

Vigil (ao3) - AlphaFlyer T, 1k

Summary: Pietro and Wanda, waiting.

[yourejinx]

Undeniable Bonds

  Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. Violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, curse words. Not proof read.

word count: 4k+.

Author’s note: I’m sorry I’m so late with this. I don’t even know what to say anymore, thank you for keeping up with me. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

“It’s alright, just breathe,”

There’s warmth against my forehead, and the words are a soft breath against my skin. I feel like every bone in my body has locked me into place, a prison, and I can’t move, I can’t breathe. 

The dark pit that has opened in my gut threatens to devour me whole and I recognise its numbness. It’s beckoning me to let go, to embrace it. A gentle, soothing  touch at my back it’s the only thing that’s keeping me anchored to reality, red and gold it’s all I’ve been staring at for what feels like an eternity. 

“Easy, dove.”

Cassian. Cassian is here. He’s enveloped me with his wings into a cocoon, a shelter against the world, his forehead is pressed against mine and he keeps rubbing circles between my shoulderblades. Some distant sense of self is returning to me, barely enough for me to turn my head and look at him. Dark hazel eyes stare back at me and the similarity to that other pair of eyes makes it almost unbearable to keep looking at them, my chest aches and I want to pull away. But Cass holds firm, strong hands holding my arms as he inhales deeply, motioning me to follow. 

I took one pathetic shuddering breath, two. My racing heart started to slow down and cool air flowed to my lungs. 

“There you go…” He hummed. 

Once I’m settled back into myself and my limbs don’t feel nearly as stiff as before, he slowly pulls away, allowing me to take in my surroundings. We’ve moved to the balcony outside one of the guest rooms, somehow. When did he even show up?

“Rhys called me, and told me what happened. How are you feeling?” His voice was so full of concern.

I shook my head, how could I put it into words? Was this what he felt every time Nesta slept with someone else? Was this what Rhys felt while Feyre was still with Tamlin? I knew Azriel fancied Elain, and I knew it was reciprocated. So why did it hurt so much to see it now? 

“Cass, he’s my—”

Mate. The word burned on my tongue. I couldn’t pronounce it. 

With each time I thought about it, the word lost a bit more of its meaning. I damned the Cauldron and the Mother for mating us; it was supposed to be something special, something that didn’t happen to most Fae, and if it did you were one lucky bastard. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard. But for me? It meant nothing. The bond only brought me pain and unrequited feelings, unwanted feelings. 

“I know, Rhys knows too,” he whispered.  

“How?” I asked, blinking away the dampness in my eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter now, dove, I need to know if you’re going to be ok” His eyes 

were so gentle, so understanding. 

I swallowed dry and nodded slowly. I remembered then that Lucien was looking for me and guilt tripped up my spine. How was I supposed to tell him what I saw?

“Cass, where is Lucien?” 

“I told him you weren’t feeling right and sent him home. He left something for you.” Cassian handed me a carefully wrapped package. For the looks of it, it was either a box or a book.  

“I have to talk to him.” 

I tore open the envelope, it was an old beautiful book, brown and gold and red. “Myths of the world” read the title, the author unknown. I hadn’t seen anything like this before.  It didn’t belong to Prythian, this book came from the mortal lands. 

Lucien saw this book during one of his journeys, and thought of me. My heart felt heavy in my chest  just thinking about the hurt I was going to cause him by speaking the truth about tonight.

“You can’t tell him anything, Y/N;”  Cassian’s tone was considerate yet firm. I frowned. 

“If it was the other way around he would tell me, Cass. He’s my friend…” 

“I’m your friend too, and I understand, but I’m asking you to wait. Please, let Rhys handle this or it can get really messy.” 

“Things are already too messy.”

With trembling fingers I dive between the first pages, it was a little worn around the edges but well kept, surely a loved book. One  particularly page caught my attention, it had dedicatory written in very polished handletter: 

“I don’t know if there’s proof of other worlds coexisting out there, but I hope you may find exciting ones within these stories.” 

More often than not, Lucien caught me late at night curled around the fireplace, a blanket thrown lazily over my legs and nose buried deep in some book about portals to other worlds, myths and legends, the old history and so and so. That sort of thing that has always called to me since I was a kid, more than curiosity I felt a pull towards it, as if I could feel the history of the universe in my veins. I never told anyone about it before, it seemed silly, I didn’t have proof of anything, it was more like a sense of the otherworldly. I felt ancient and new, vast and empty, all at the same time. The last time I experienced something like that Feyre had still been pregnant with Nyx, I remember feeling like my mind had been split for a moment, allowing me to experience reality both through my own person and through someone or something else’s eyes. I ended up throwing up that night, and Azriel had found me passed out on the floor of the living room. No one asked any questions, but Lucien had noticed. 

I sighed and closed the book, returning my attention to the worried-looking Illyrian in front of me.  “He’ll hate me if he finds out and I knew all along. I can’t have him hate me, Cass.” 

I can’t have him hate me too. 

“He won’t hate you dove, that’s just impossible”.

I shook my head, “Can you just take me home please?” 

“Of course,” He didn’t hesitate to scoop me up in his arms and take to the skies. 

The wind whipped through the night sky as Cassian soared gracefully, his wings beating rhythmically against the air currents. Beside him, I clung tightly to his muscular frame, my grip tightened unconsciously with each passing moment. The journey back to the House of Wind was filled with a heavy silence, as I wrestled with the weight of my thoughts and emotions.

Finally, the grand structure came into view, perched majestically atop the cliffs. Cassian gently landed, his powerful wings folding behind him as he turned to face me. His cobalt eyes searched mine, brimming with concern and curiosity. He paused, probably sensing the turmoil underneath, and waited patiently for me to find the courage to speak.

With a heavy sigh, I took a step back and looked up at the towering residence. "Cassian," I started, voice tinged with a mix of determination and sadness, "I’m leaving the court. I've made a decision... I'm going to accept Helion's offer."

Cassian's brow furrowed, a mixture of surprise and worry crossing his features. He reached out, his hand finding mine in a reassuring grip. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You know the risks involved, the dangers that lie beyond our borders. The Night Court is your home, with friends who care for you."

My gaze followed the distant horizon, already feeling that curl of longing and uncertainty in my gut. "I understand the risks, Cass," I replied softly. "But I can't ignore the chance to make a difference, to find my own path and discover who I truly am, what I could do. I've always felt like I'm in the shadow of others, and maybe... maybe this is my opportunity to shine."

Cassian's grip on my hand tightened, his voice filled with earnestness. "You don't need to leave to find your purpose. You have friends here who believe in you, who will stand by your side no matter what. We can face the challenges together, as a family."

Tears welled in my eyes as conflicting emotions tugged at my heart. I wanted to believe in the strength of these bonds, in the safety and comfort of the Night Court. But a flicker of determination remained, whispering promises of self-discovery and growth. I looked back at Cassian, voice trembling but resolute. "I love you Cass, and I’m deeply grateful for everything the Night Court and all of you have given me, but I have to do this. Please understand."

Cassian's gaze softened, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that escaped my eye. He took a deep breath, his voice filled with unwavering support. "If this is truly what you want, then I won't stand in your way. But remember, you will always have a home in the Night Court, we will be here for you whenever you need us. And I can still kick Azriel’s ass for you."

He joked and a small smile broke through my lips despite the anguish. “I don’t want him to know, let’s just keep this between us for now, alright? I’ll tell Rhys tomorrow.” 

“Alright.” He whispered and brushed a kiss to my temple. 

We just stood there for a moment, embraced by the cool night breeze, letting all the events of the night sink in. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week later. 

The frozen landscape stretched endlessly before our eyes, a harsh and unforgiving terrain that mirrored the tensions between me and the Shadow Singer. The mission to track down the slavers had brought us to this desolate place, where the biting cold seemed to seep into our very souls. Yet, it was the icy atmosphere between us that threatened to shatter the fragile alliance.

We hadn’t spoken a word since last Solstice’s party, and I hadn’t seen him around either. I still couldn’t shake the weight of that awful look he gave me that night, it didn’t help that he looked on the verge of ripping my head off. I just didn’t understand, we were sort of alright at some point and then he just went back to hating me, as if some switch had gone off inside of him. 

As we trudged through the snow, our breath crystallizing in the frigid air, the silence grew heavy with unspoken accusations. I just couldn't bear the weight of Azriel's distrust any longer, it was making me anxious and angry. Whatever it was that got him so mad at me I didn’t deserve it, and we couldn’t keep working like that. 

With each step, the tension escalated, until it reached a breaking point. Finally, unable to contain my frustration, I turned to face him, my voice came out  laced with a mix of fury and hurt that I didn’t intend. "If you have something to say, just say it already and be done with this stupid silent treatment."

Azriel's expression hardened, his hazel eyes flashing with a mix of regret and stubbornness. "Why? so you can run and snitch to Rhys about it?"

My hands balled into fists, body trembling with indignation. "What the hell does that mean?” I hissed. 

“You know what it means. I seriously thought about giving you a chance, that I may have judged you wrong. Then I turn around and you pull the bullshit you did on Solstice. I didn’t think you could stood so low as to drag Elain into this mess.” 

“What bullshit? What are you even on about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you called Rhys on us. Are you going to tell me that it was all a coincidence? That you just happened to walk right into the room I was in with Elain, and Rhysand followed you? I see the way you look at her, are you really that envious?”   

A humorless laugh escaped my lips, anger boiling in my veins. “Is this what got you so pissed? You are a bigger asshole than I thought. I didn’t even know you were in there, even less that you were with her. Do you think I give a fuck about who you’re fucking?You're always so quick to judge, to assume the worst of me. You know what? I'm done. Fuck you, Azriel!"

“You’re a cunning bitch, ever so observant, ready to pry into other people’s business; lying is like breathing for you, so why should I believe you? Why else would you happen to be there? Every time something goes wrong you’re in the middle of it!”

“Oh don’t try to blame me for your fuck ups, you dug that hole yourself. We were there because we were looking for you, because I wanted to give you this.” I shoved the little black box against his chest, hard. I had been carrying it with me since that night, its weight had been unbearable. “Happy Solstice, Azriel.” I spat with irony. 

He just stood there, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his anger at bay, eyes glued to the object now lying in his hands. 

Silence engulfed us once again as the bitter wind whistled through the barren landscape. Our breaths mingled with the frosty air, hanging between us like an unbridgeable chasm. 

“What is this?” he finally dared to ask, his voice cold and calm, distant but not nearly as angry as before. 

I cursed the slight tremor of vulnerability and turned away, already feeling a headache forming.  "You can throw it away if you want, I don’t care. I’m going to scout the land, don’t follow me. And keep your shadows to yourself."  My own voice came out barely above a whisper.

With that, I stormed off, leaving Azriel standing alone amidst the frozen wasteland. The ache of the fractured connection between us weighed heavily on my heart, mingling with the anguish of this mission and the bitter chill of the land. There was really no hope for us, to believe we could be friends again…that had been a foolish mistake. 

For a long while I walked and walked and walked, there had been no sign of any other living creature in hours. The night was starting to grow heavy and the cold unforgiving, I could barely see anything beyond the frozen forest, the small faelight I brought with me doing little to light up the path but I couldn’t risk giving away my position. It felt like I had been walking around in circles, never finding the exit to the forest. I could’ve sworn I passed the same twisted tree four times now, it looked like a giant claw tearing open the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have left on my own. I had a bad feeling about this, it was all strangely silent. 

Just as I spotted a clearing, a familiar scent caught my attention. I haven’t felt that in nearly two centuries, but I remembered it like it was yesterday, sweet and strong and dangerous. My heart dropped to my stomach, and dread spread along my spine. It couldn’t be. He was dead. I had killed him.  

All my alarms went off almost immediately, I turned the faelight off and walked as slowly, as silent as a wrath towards the clearing. I had to squint my eyes to adjust to night vision, avoiding the branches and bigger patches of snow. A dim light appeared on the other side of the woods, floating beside a big shadow. As I came closer I could make the shape of wings, huge membranous wings. I wouldn’t mistake those wings in a thousand years. 

“Azriel?” I asked, low. Not entirely giving away my location still inside the forest’s safety. 

His back was turned to me, and he was standing predatorily still. A glimpse of metal flashed in the dim moonlight, Truth Teller was clutched tightly in his right hand, something dark and sticky dropping to the snow. Blood. The copper tang of it hit my nose a second later. It smelled like him. Was he hurt? 

I scanned the land beyond him, searching for the threat. If I had scented it earlier, probably he did too and found them sooner than I did. 

“Azriel was going on?” I tried again, walking closer. 

Past the shadows that engulfed him a figure lay on the ground, they were kneeling. There was so much more blood around them it was hard to tell if they were still alive. Whoever that was. 

I stepped beside him, my own blade in hand, ready to strike if needed be. But what struck me was the sight in front of me, Azriel was kneeling on the frozen ground, wings dropped and bloodied, a gag was pulled tight against his mouth and his eyes were wide, desperate. He grew wild when he saw me, thrashing against an invisible barrier. I turned around, confused and alarmed. The Shadow Singer stared back at me, a sinister smile tugging at his mouth and he launched forward, shoving the blade between my ribs. 

The Azriel on the ground tried to scream against the gag, eyes glazed over with rage. I wanted to reach him, free him from his restraints, but I couldn’t move. The male in front of me twisted the knife still inside my flesh and I let out a cry of pain. It burned like hell and I felt myself starting to get dizzy. Faebane, for sure. 

Hazel eyes turned darker than the night itself, and that pretty face morphed into something half beautiful, half monstrous. Brutal and scarred. I watched in horror as the male of my nightmares appeared in front of me. Demian, Kier’s first born son, alive and here. 

“Did you miss me, wife?” He purred into my ear. 

“RHYS! RHYS!” I tried to desperately call for the High Lord, but the mental channels between us felt distant, my voice sounded like an echo traveling through a never ending tunnel. 

I tried to take a step back but the world started to blur into darkness quickly. The last thing I saw was Demian’s monstrous face smiling down at me. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel. 

The cavern was shrouded in darkness, its oppressive air thick with a sense of impending doom. The flickering light cast eerie shadows across the cold stone walls, as his eyes darted around, desperately searching for any means of escape. Azriel had been awake for a while now, heart pounding wildly against his ribcage at the scene in front of him; Y/N struggled against the coarse chains that bound her wrists, barely conscious due to the bloodlost. 

He had never felt more helpless and stupid. He should have said something, apologize, go after her, make her stay. Azriel still couldn’t believe he fell into  this motherfucker’s illusion, he should have known better. But it had been so real…the look of despair in her face, begging him to save her, as if Demian had known what she looked like, as if he had seen her like that before. Rage boiled in his veins.  Oh, once he got free of this invisible prison he was going to kill him, and he was going to take his sweet time doing so. 

"Azriel..." she whispered his name, her voice barely audible in the silence. The sound carried a mix of longing and worry, it made something crack inside his chest. 

The heavy stone doors groaned open, revealing two figures emerging from the depths of darkness. Demian, a malevolent presence wrapped in darkness, stepped forward with an insidious smile, his eyes glittering with a sinister delight.

Azriel’s shadows were frantic, desperately trying to leak beyond the barrier holding him and reach Y/N, but it was no use. Even his siphons couldn’t break the spell containing him, the strange marks painted on the ground around him seemed to absorb every futile attempt of his power to set him free. 

"Ah, Y/N, lovely to see you again", his voice dripping with malice. "We still have some unfinished business, darling."

Y/N narrowed her gaze, refusing to show her fear and spat on his face. “I don’t know how you’re still alive, but you’re as delusional as I remember.” 

Demian's laughter echoed through the cavern, chilling her to the bone. In his hand, he brandished a wickedly sharp blade, the metal gleaming with malicious intent.

"Perhaps," he sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "But this time I’ll succeed, you’ll pay for what you’ve done, you and your stupid High Lord. There’s no escaping your fate this time."

A weak groan managed to escape Azriel’s bloody lips, and Y/N's eyes filled with dread as she spotted him, chained to a wall, his body battered and bloodied. 

"Azriel!" she cried out, straining against her restraints. "Leave him alone!"

Demian's twisted grin widened, feeding off her anguish and desperation. "Oh, my dear," he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I plan to make him suffer just enough to ensure your compliance."

Tears welled up in her obsidian eyes as she watched Demian approach him, heart breaking at the sight of her mate's pain. Their connection, their bond, was just a whisper of strength and vulnerability.

"Do not yield, Y/N," Azriel's voice reached her, laced with pain but filled with unwavering resolve. "Don't let him break you."

“Enough!” The other presence in the room raised his voice as he approached the light. It was a dark haired male, tall and slim, a bit ungainly. His skin was a sickly grey-ish pale. Y/N’s eyes widened and tears started to flow freely down her cheeks at the sight of him. “Hello, sister. Long time no see.” He smiled wickedly at her as he anxiously played with the blade in his hands. 

Azriel could recognise its signature darkness capable of absorbing even the light of the sun anywhere. Truth Teller. The bastard was holding his blade. 

“Ajax…” she whispered, almost pleading. 

“We thought you had killed yourself. Imagine my surprise when I saw you at war with Hybern,” Ajax let out a humorless chuckle. “tch, father is so disappointed in you, you made mama cry and all for this?” He pointed at Azriel, still fighting to get free. There was something animalistic and ferocious in his eyes as he watched Damien twist the blade into the membrane of his wings. 

“Stop! Let him go. This is between me and you, he doesn’t have to be here.” 

“Let him go? So you can pull the bullshit you did on your wedding night? I don’t think so. But you wouldn’t dare to do so now, no, you wouldn’t risk hurting your precious Shadow Singer.” He smiled mockingly and slid the sharp edge of Truth Teller along her jaw. “Pitty. You would’ve made such a pretty bride… isn’t that right Demian?” 

Demian’s deformed mouth twisted upwards as he looked her up and down, something dangerous darkening his features. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him and ran a thumb over her lips. “You could have been my queen.”

She spat on his face again. “Go to hell.” 

Ajax slapped her face. “You’ve always been an ungrateful bitch.” 

Wiping his atrocious face clean, Demian stepped forward grabbing Truth Teller from Ajax hands. There was such hatred in their eyes. “Let’s get this over with.” He threw Azriel a wicked grin and slid the sharp edge across Y/N’s wrist. 

The Shadow Singer watched with a mix of fury and desperation as the blade cut into her flesh, eliciting a tortured cry from her lips. He felt it too, the pain, as if it was his own flesh being torn open. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Azriel’s threat echoed through the walls of the frozen cave. 

They both laughed as they carved similar markings to the ones holding him prisoner into her    skin. In her arms, her chest, her legs. She was just a playtoy for them to feed their morbidity. 

There was so much blood everywhere. Demian’s filthy mouth closed around one of the wounds, drinking from her. Her blood, her power, her very essence, while Ajax recited something in a tongue Azriel couldn’t understand. 

The Shadow Singer saw red. Something primal took over his senses, the urge to protect Y/N was stronger than anything, determination surged through his weakened body, and with every ounce of remaining energy, Azriel fought against his restraints. He summoned whatever hidden reserves of strength he possessed, his determination overriding the debilitating effects of the faebane. Sparks of raw power crackled around him as his unyielding rage fueled his desperate struggle for freedom. 

Ajax's full black eyes fell on him, sensing the upcoming battle that was about to be unleashed upon them and slit open Y/N’s other wrist. 

“Let’s go, we got what we need” He urged the blonde male beside him. 

They retreated, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Y/N and Azriel gasping for breath, their bodies battered and broken.

As Azriel's body trembled with exertion, his relentless efforts finally bore fruit. With a surge of sheer willpower, the invisible barrier shattered like fragile glass, freeing him from its confinements. Gasping for breath, his eyes blazed with a mix of determination and wrath as he surveyed the now empty space where the two males had stood. He would hunt them down, to the ends of the earth if needed, to make them pay for what they’ve done; but first he had to take Y/N to safety. 

He turned to face her; the anguish in her eyes mirrored his own, but their connection remained unbroken, he could still feel the sliver of hope amidst the darkness thrumming through that golden thread between their souls. 

She held tight onto that bit of sanity left and muttered the words “I’m sorry” over and over again as her body started to give out. 

Azriel’s whole body started shaking “No, no, no. Stay with me, I’ll get us out. I swear.” 

He rushed to her side, untying her arms and cradling her face. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t winnow and his wings were too damaged to fly. At this point they needed a miracle, he wasn’t a devoted believer in the gods but he would pray to all of them to save her. 

They lied there, in the ground, her face was drained of color and the unforgiving cold was not helping. 

As if in answer to his silent prayers, the stone doors burst open, revealing the High Lord and the General of the Night Court in a state of utter distress. Azriel didn’t know when he had started crying  but he let himself hold onto the tiny bit of hope that they might make it alive.  

"Where are they?" Rhysand's voice boomed with unwavering authority, his power shimmering around him.

The shadow singer shook his head, Y/N was slipping away as they talked. “Please save her” 

Rhysand rushed to their side, cradling her in his arms. Her heartbeat was too weak, her breathing labored. Azriel’s own consciousness was starting to flicker and he could feel the bond beginning to dim. Panic took over his senses, he started fighting against Cassian’s hold just to get to her.

“Az, it 's ok. We’ll meet them back at the House, she’s going to be fine.” Cassian assured him as he took to the skies. 

And he would have believed him if it wasn’t for the exchange of worried looks that transpired between his brothers.

taglist:

@cmay25   @brekkershadowsinger   @cosmic-whispers   @h0peless-r0m4ntic888    @esposadomd   @hannzoaks   @tysynn   @i-am-infinite @sevendeadlyshins-blog   @angelshadowsinger   @buckysimp101 @baebeepeach @starswholistenanddreamsanswered   @leeknows-wife   @k07-1313 @valeridarkness @fall-myriad   @goradgirl   @feiwelinchen   @katherine-2007 @colorfulwinnerneva-blog    @lillithathecat @j-pendragonx @ummmmmwat @eviepeo @thelov3lybookworm @emturtles @chillicrackers @bubybubsters @perseflowers @goldenmagnolias @littleshopofwhoress @galla-lotus @weirdo-fun @moonlwghts @t0uch-starved-h0e @wannabewolf @awkwardturtle365 @notbellasstuff @nastynesta  

@nohxmanity @yasminsznn @thesnugglingduck   @anniebannanie0315  @elsie-bells   @highlady-ofillyria   @kodokunarisu-blog @starksweasleymain

If I forgot about someone please let me know :) It won’t let me tag some of you I don’t know why :(

[havendance]

I’m back again with another fic rec list. This time with a baker’s dozen of excellent Batman fics of the hidden gen variety that I’ve dug up. Hopefully there’s something new for everyone on here. Check them out! Give them some love!

Boy Hostage by kuonji

2.5k, complete. A fun little piece showing each of the batboys getting in and out of getting kidnapped for ransom.

but I don’t own a single gun by Molly_Hats (@mollyhats)

1.1k, complete. DICK AND TIM! A conversation between them set at a vague point in the timeline in which various old wounds of the past get dug up.

Get Used to Dying, by papered_king (@paperedking)

1.6k, complete. A very neat character study for Jason that’s formatted as a script for a play and does and excellent job of utilizing it’s format.

It could be worse by Runespoor

2.8k, complete. A series of vignettes about alternate universes where it was somebody else that took Jason in instead of Bruce.

paradoxical sleep by brawltogethernow (@brawltogethernow)

4k, wip. A vibey and cool inception AU. I have never actually watched inception so I don’t know what’s going on half the time when I read this, but I do know that it’s a fun read!

Promises by RenaRoo (@renaroo)

33k, wip. A fix-it fic for Cass’s One Year Later/Evil!Cass arc. This one admittedly, has not been updated since 2018, but it is still very good and you all should read it! It’s got Cass & Tim! Cass interacting with the Birds of Prey! And it really does a great job of digging into her head and all of her raw emotions.

Rose Garden by batling_out_of_hell

6k, wip. In which Cass decides to rebel against Batman and take over the world in order to make sure that no one kills ever. A delight to read. The first chapter is a little slower to start, but chapter 2 onwards is rocking!

Ships and Schemes by Molly_Hats (@mollyhats)

1.3k, complete. A short and fun little fic where Oracle’s been running a misinformation op by harnessing Bruce Wayne/Batman Shippers.

The Fisher Prince by Arctic_Cyclist

3.4k, complete. Damian vs Poison Ivy during the Batman Reborn era. This fic has rich prose, cool lore, and Damian kicking ass through superior ecological praxis.

these crosses by mintchocochips (@mintchocochipsposts)

7.1k, complete. Post-No Man’s Land Helena Bertinelli character study my beloved! Also features a fun Tim & Helena scene for fellow fans of their dynamic.

There is no milk! by chucklesbuckles

2.1k, complete. A fic where Catherine is alive when Jason dies. The start of a Red Hood!Catherine AU, but hasn’t actually gotten to that part in the series yet. It does an excellent job at capturing Catherine’s grief. (Note: This fic is only available to read if you have an AO3 account)

They move and it's fire by Arctic_Cyclist

1.5k, complete. Dick and Damian doing gymnastics together and Damian being recognized as Talia’s son.

when the bodies hit the floor by nashequilibrium

7k, complete. A fun Steph & Damian teamup where they take on a ghost at a sleepover gone wrong with some really fun to read prose.

[somefanficrecomendations]

January Monthly Roundup

BATFAMILY

Three’s a Crowd (But I’m Here if You Are) by JUBE514 (Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake/Conner Kent) 20k, Identity Reveal, Fluff      Bernard pops the top off his water bottle, a roll of his wrist at the perfect angle and it comes right off, and pops the faucet in Tim’s very nice kitchen to cold. Tim presses a kiss to the back of Bernard’s neck before Tim moves to the fridge to get his own water.      Bernard used to not drink as much water, but Tim drinks enough water for three people a day so Bernard naturally has followed- and now Bernard has no acne so he’s sort of mad about it actually. “The main character has two hands.” Bernard chimes easy and teasing. “Polygamy is the awnser here babe.”      Tim peaks over the door of the fridge. “Oh? Is this you telling me something?” —      Tim Drake, Bernard Dowd, and Kon-El have two hands each. They use them to hold onto each other.

My Evil Twin From Another Universe by FabulaRasa (Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne) 22k An interdimensional anomaly strands another version of Hal in this universe, and two Hal Jordans in one universe is several Hal Jordans too many.

this week in heroblr by UnidentifiedFroggy (multi) 22k, WIP, Social Media, okay im sorry y'all did SUPERBOY just say he's a tumblrina??? #SUPERBOY AS IN KON EL AS IN SUPERMANS CLONE #DIED IN THE CRISIS SUPERBOY #holy shit #superblr #heroblr - a viewpoint into tumblr as it might exist within my own exceedingly self-indulgent form of the dc universe, told through epistolary fashion in batfamily social media fic tradition. features heroes getting cancelled, takes of middling veracity, plenty of queerness both on heroblr and in the hero community, my self-indulgent ships, and something vaguely resembling plot and lore told obliquely through tumblr drama and outsider pov interpretations of superheroes

The Big Boss by Crowlows19 (gen) 4k, POV Outsider The story of Bruce Wayne and his family as told by his insane Wayne Enterprises calendar and the poor assistant that had to manage it all.

Batman for Dummies by Havendance (gen) 38k, No Man’s Land, Helena Bertinelli-centric In the aftermath of the quake that shook Gotham, Helena Bertinelli takes on the mantle of the Bat. (It isn’t like Batman’s using it.) If she’d known the cowl came with a certain moralizing little bird following her around — well, she probably still would’ve done it, but it would’ve been nice to know in advance. (Or: Tim and Helena team up 2: electric boogaloo. Now with more bats!)

Older Sibling Duty by Icestorm238 (gen) 2k, Batfam Names are important. The Bats tend to bypass their real names, however, in favour of increasingly dumb nicknames. The older sibling trio of Dick, Jason, and Cass are the primary instigators of this. After all, it is their duty.

AITAH For Tricking My Brother Into Drugging My Other Brother? by TaxiCabToSlowtown (gen) 1k, Social Media, Am I the Asshole? Okay, look, I know how that sounds, but hear me out. My (M, 19, "Fred") little brother (17, I’ll call him “Percy”) has problems. These problems stem a lot from the fact that his parents abandoned him for long periods of time as a kid and he didn’t have a proper upbringing. I should mention that Percy’s parents then are not the same as our parent(s) now. We’re both adopted, and I’m messed up too, I’ll admit it. Our Father (45, I’ll call him “Arthur”) had sort of turned his house into a home for kids with really traumatic families.

Welcome to the Family by ViiA01 (Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne) 67k, WIP, Batfam Bruce’s children want to meet the man that their father deemed worthy of a smile. So they do, in the only way they know how. By breaking into people's houses and lurking in dark places. Bruce just wants his children to stop stalking Earth’s Green Lantern, if only because they're ruining his plans. And Hal? Well, Hal is convinced that Bruce has concocted a plot to get around his ‘no killing’ rule, by having his children stalk him until his heart gives out from the stress.

A Series of Unfortunately Timed Coming Out's by Queerbutstillhere (multi), 7k, Coming Out The batfamily had this gift.  This wonderful skill. They are such talented, brilliant, capable individuals. But they are absolutely horrendous at wisely timing coming out to their family members. These are their stories . Aka: "I love you all but could we stop coming out to each other during the middle of battles?"

Call to a Lonely Earth by Drag0nst0rm (gen), 7k, Angst, AU-17776 Fusion There are no children left in Gotham. Not until the multiverse spits one out right in front of Batman, at least.

buy the ticket, take the ride by Anonymous (gen), 13k, Vegas Tim had always figured that if he ever woke up in Vegas sans-memory, it would be when he was older than fourteen. But there were some things he couldn’t control, and apparently whatever had happened last night that he didn’t remember was one of them.

CROSSOVER

Keystone by Kalinjdra (gen), 26k, WIP, HPxDC Harry Potter double-checked his lists before sending off the letter to an unknown cousin. He hoped for maybe some money at least, he didn't expect to get a scary bodyguard brother instead. Jason Todd has never stopped searching for his real parents so when Tim offers solid information in exchange of taking care of some kid, he really doesn't have anything else to do but take it. No one really could have foretold what followed.

[dcfanfictioncatalogue]

barbara gordon APR 2024 fic awards

BOO. apparently I can actually post twice in a row it's a miracle !!!! also if anyone would like me to do consistent monthly fics for any other characters please just send me a link otherwise I'm going to keep bulldozing my way through all of 2024's barbara gordon fics THIS is cherry's fic awards HERE are my favorite babs fics from april. lot of unfinished chaptered fics here but please give them a shot anyway!!

through the noise and static and the call, by shipyrds (@burins). 4k, E, dinahbabs, 1/2. summary: dinah doesn't even know what the woman looks like. my notes: OHHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD!!!!!!! early bop pre-identity reveal dinahbabs is like my mortal weakness and OH MY FUCKING GODDDDDD. I left a comment on this fic already and like ...... I love this so much. read it right now there isn't much more I can say.

&&

By a Thread (Hanging On), by BingDragon. 1.4k, G, gen. summary: it’s winter in gotham, during the most dangerous time in the city’s history, and cass hasn’t been home for several days. my notes: NML FIC!!!!!! always such an underutilized in fandom event and by god this delivers!!! the babs and cass mother daughter dynamic UGH they make me so sick.... pun not intended lmaoo

&&

Oracle of Jersey, by metroidspeedrun. 3k, T, gen, 2/?, graphic depictions of violence. summary: barbara gordon runs a podcast that results in six teenagers standing over a dead body. my notes: love!! the whole bop cast is here -- charlie, lori, ted! -- and that is always important to me. I can't wait to see how the plot develops!!! I think it's really interesting making a casefic out of a "civilian" au. babs will be babs no matter the setting <3

ask box is open for requests ++ find my fic rec libraries organized here