Summary: Both the prequel and the sequel. Why you and Az broke up and what happens when he sees you again.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 2,753
Notes: I swear, sometimes these just write themselves 🥹
(Part One)
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“Oh my Gods, I can’t do this anymore,” you stress, turning away from him as you rake your fingers through your hair, exhaling sharply.
“What?” the shadowsinger’s response is a whisper of dread, going stock still in his spot, spine straightening at your words and he has to readjust his wings on his back, shaking off the uncomfort of your words. His shadows swirl around him, sweeping up the lower half of his body, ready to whisk him away at any second.
His hazel eyes are wide as they watch you pacing away from him, his heart thudding in his chest at your words.
“I can’t sit here and listen to how unlovable you think you are, pushing me away before you can even admit that you might be in love with me!”
He is. He is so, so in love with you that he was scared to admit it to anyone, especially himself. He doesn’t think that he’s deserving of your love or anyones, so he hasn’t said it yet, in fear of what could come from it.
In a way he thought he was protecting you. That if he didn’t admit the words trying to claw their way from his mouth in an admission everytime you were around you would be safe. Safe from his enemies, from the people counting on him, from the monster inside of him.
“You deserve to be with someone better than me,” he admits quietly, staring down at his marred hands, a memory he has to carry around forever. They were disgusting. He was disgusting. All he did was hurt and torture and kill. Something that you shouldn’t want to be around.
“This! This is what I’m talking about,” you plead, tears brimming your eyes. You stalk closer to him, halting a step away, looking up at him with sad eyes. “Why do you do this?”
“Because it’s true,” he shrugs, cheeks going hot under your intense gaze. He has to look away, it’s too much, all that emotion in your eyes. He can’t look because then he’ll see the truth lying there, that you do love him in every sense of the word.
“It’s not,” you protest, hugging your arms tightly to your chest.
“How do you–”
“Because I love you, you stupid bat!” you scream, hot tears forging a stream down your face. Your throat is raw with emotion and you don’t care who hears. Let them know, maybe they’d be able to talk sense into this stubborn male before you. “I love you and you can’t fucking see it, can you?”
And you’re staring at each other, breathing heavily. Tears flowing freely down your face as Azriel’s remains stoic as always, a professional at keeping his emotions hidden, though you see it in the tense way he holds his wings. His facade nearly cracks at the sight of you breaking before him. Another person he’s brought hurt to, he just can’t seem to stop.
Your chest tightens, but not from your whirling emotions, it’s the bond, making itself known during this horrible time. He sucks in a breath, his shadows still their movements.
It’s like something within him awakens, the feeling shooting up his spine. All this time he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but now, knowing that you’re his mate, it’s the reassurance that he’s needed.
“I do,” he blurts, cheeks heating as you stare up at him, mouth dropped open in disbelief. Tears still blur your eyes, you can hardly see his face, but his words ring in your ears clear as day. “I do love you, (Y/N).”
You shake your head, taking a step back when he reaches out for you, “No.” You don’t believe him.
His hand falls limp at his side and you feel the spike of fear through the bond. It makes you flinch in your spot.
“You’re only saying that because of this,” you gesture between the two of you, eyes finally clearing up when you blink, letting the tears fall once more. You can’t say it, can’t force the word out of your throat and you rub furiously at your wet cheeks. “If it hadn’t appeared just now you would’ve let me walk away, right?”
And he would’ve. He doesn’t deserve you, he never has. He doesn’t say anything.
You swallow thickly, nodding ever so slowly. You didn’t need the confirmation from him, and even though Azriel’s not saying anything, it feels like he’s screaming it at you.
__________
The bond had been silent for months.
During that time Azriel found himself flying past your building to catch a glimpse of you, going to your favorite restaurants, going to the galleries you frequented or the park bench you cherished. It was the most time he’d spent in the city since he’d lived there. He’d tried seeking you out but it was as if you’d left the Night Court completely, though he knew it wasn’t true as his friends were still in contact with you.
Why he’d let Cassian and Rhysand drag him out was beyond him. He hated everything about going out, the people, the loud music, the drunken assholes. The only time he hadn’t minded going out and letting loose was when you were around, pleading him to relax and have some fun, dancing to that Gods awful song that you loved while grinning back at him from the dancefloor.
And it’s both better and worse when he sees you with Feyre and Mor.
Better because you are stunning, his breath leaving his lungs in a woosh that makes his brothers look, calling out for the three of you with beaming smiles.
You’re dressed in something he’d have killed to see you in when you were together, something he wouldn’t have let you leave the house in, possibly tearing it on purpose as he pressed hot kisses down your body so no one but him could ever see it on you.
Worse because you don’t look like he’s ever had any effect on your life at all.
He didn’t even know you were still in town.
And it’s awkward, so awkward. You haven’t seen Azriel since the night you’d left him, cutting him off from the bond after you’d fought.
It had hurt you to your very core, broken your heart into pieces so small that you still didn’t think it had been mended. You'd hidden in your apartment for months, trying to will it back into one while keeping him away from your emotions.
The bond was a very fragile thing, easily transferring emotions to your mate, and it had been hard to keep it quiet. You could be a spymaster of your own with how well you could hide your emotions, when you’d go out with any of his friends, catching a whiff of his musk on them. When you found one of the books he’d lent you, bookmark halfway through, forgotten. When you looked up at the night sky and could swear you’d seen his silhouette against the moon.
Gods, he’s as handsome as ever. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his mouth is set in a permanent frown but he still takes your breath away anyway.
“Hey, Cass,” you greet the warlord with a closed-mouth smile. He hugs you back tightly, murmuring an apology that doesn’t slip past Azriel’s fine-tuned ears. It makes his chest ache. Even without the pounding music covering your voices, his shadows still would’ve told him exactly what Cassian had whispered to you.
You greet Rhysand the same way, a hug and when the High Lord kisses you on the cheek Azriel has to choke down the primal growl threatening to slip out and control the glare he has aimed at the back of his brothers’ head.
And then you stand before Azriel.
“Hi, Az,” you wave awkwardly, fidgeting with your fingers.
It’s hard to look at him, even worse to give him the hug you feel the need to. All you want to do is breathe in his scent, feel those calloused hands hot across your skin, hear him groan your name. You miss every single thing about him, from his sensitive wings to his mischievous shadows, it’s like meeting him all over again for the first time.
Except that the argument still plays in your mind nightly. You wonder if he’s thought anything over or if he’s pushing it away like he does everything else.
Azriel’s hands are so gentle, like a whisper against your skin. His shadows snake around your ankles in excitement. He doesn’t say a word and lets go immediately when you step back, smiling softly at the ground as you retreat towards Feyre and Mor.
“Well we’re all here, we might as well get drinks together, yeah?” Cassian suggests and you cringe. Sticking around here is the last thing you want now that they’re here. Your entire mood has dropped and all you want to do is go home and curl up in bed.
“Yes,” Mor cheers, “That would be fun, right (Y/N)?” she elbows you in the arm and you give her a tight–lipped smile in return.
“Sure.”
One shot turns into two drinks and before you know it your friends are drunk. Mor drags Cassian out onto the dancefloor and Rhys winnows an inebriated High Lady home, leaving you alone with Azriel.
You’d stopped drinking after your second glass, pretending to down the shots of liquor Mor kept passing you, holding them in your mouth and spitting them into the empty beer bottle of Cassian’s you’d snagged from the table behind.
You can already feel the headache creeping in and your eyes are heavy with sleep. “I think I’m going to head home.” You don’t know why you tell him this. Maybe because he’s been sneaking glances at you all night, silently trying to work up the courage to speak to you.
“Can I walk you?” he asks, eyes earnest, hands twisting together behind his back. He’s a nervous wreck, just seeing you had reopened the wound that had never healed, reminded him exactly what he’d missed out on when he had you, a stunning, gorgeous mate.
You nod once, softly, and lead the way out.
You can feel him at your back, a half step behind and you have a fleeting thought of halting in your path so you can feel his body pressed up against yours again.
But you keep moving, shaking the thoughts from your head. It’s been too long since the fight, and he hadn’t even tried to contact you afterwards, he just let you walk away.
Neither of you speak but it’s what you’d gotten used to being with him. Azriel was never much of a talker, but late at night when you were both sated from your orgasms or delirious from lack of sleep he’d open up a bit more and you cherished every single moment.
You didn’t mind his quiet nature. You loved spending time with him no matter what. Reading your own books together in bed, taking long walks, watching the setting sun and awakening moon, enjoying each other's presence.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your night.” The words spill from his mouth and he flinches at how loud he thinks he’s being, but to you it’s hardly a whisper.
“You didn’t,” you respond, glancing at him from the side of your eye. He gazes straight ahead, trying desperately to control his thoughts, his fingers itching to take hold of yours.
He puffs out a breath that’s on the verge of being a laugh, “You don’t have to lie, (Y/N).”
His heart stammers in his chest and he immediately cringes at his words. He’s already doing it again, the self–pity slipping into conversation as easily as sheathing Truth–Teller.
“I’m not,” you shrug, eyes cast to the sidewalk in front of you.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he murmurs. He doesn’t know what to do, his heart is racing in his chest like it was on your first date and just being near you again is making his senses go all fuzzy.
You’re not sure how to respond and Azriel must be really nervous if he continues on, “I just meant that I know you probably don’t want to see me…”
“I didn’t,” you agree and his heart cracks a little in his chest. “But I’m glad I got to see you.”
He bites back his smile at that, “Even though it was awkward?”
You crack a grin, “Yeah, even though it was awkward.”
The rest of the short walk is quiet, the both of you lost in your own minds, thinking about the other. Your arms brush every once in a while and when you shiver at the chilly night air he raises a wing, blocking the winds from hitting your backside.
You give him a warm, thankful smile and he thinks there might be hope for the both of you yet.
Standing in front of your building you look up at him. The moonlight paints him in the best light, it always has. Hair inky black like his leathers, the dim glow from his siphons caressing his face.
“Thank you, for walking me home.”
“Always,” he responds with a soft smile. If you didn’t know any better you’d take his hand and lead him upstairs.
But you do, so you nod and turn from him, “Goodnight, Az.”
He catches your wrist, his skin warm against yours. You peer up at him in question, his eyes wide. You still call him Az. You did it back at the bar and you’re doing it now. He knows you could be calling him Azriel or not even using his name at all, so this has to mean something.
He hasn’t lost you yet.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” he stammers over his words, his grip tightening on you slightly. You let him, because you know it’s helping him get what he needs to say out. “And what I’ve come to is this: (Y/N), I’m messed up and I have been messed up for a long time. I’ve never let anyone get close to me because I’m terrified, absolutely terrified to lose them. So many things have been taken from me in my life, but when I first met you I couldn’t seem to stay away, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself.”
You bite your lip at his words, the raw emotion in his voice.
“I didn’t want you to get hurt for being associated with me. Hell, I still am scared of the thought of something happening to you.” He shudders a breath, pushing on, “On that night when you asked me if I was going to let you leave? I was, because I wasn’t going to allow myself the indulgence of something that I didn’t think I deserved. You consume my thoughts, even still, and the mating bond appearing that night was inconvenient, but not a mistake. I love you, (Y/N), I have since our first date when you tripped and scraped up your palms and tore your dress.”
His hand slides down to your hand, thumb brushing over your palm like he had on that day, your torn up hands reminding him of his own. That’s when he knew that you were the one, that moment, like calling to like.
“If that wasn’t a sign, I don’t know what is,” he admits, smiling at you as you roll your eyes at the memory. For you it had been nothing more than a mortifying moment in front of a handsome male, but for him it had been so much more.
“And I still love you, (Y/N). Even if you don’t love me.”
He waits patiently as you study him. You believe every single word coming from his mouth, not only because you can see it, but also because you can feel it breaking through the walls you’d built up around the bond. The pure love radiating from him is melting it away like butter, seeping through to your own soul.
“You deserve love, Az,” you speak softly, giving his hand a squeeze.
He nods eagerly. “I do. And I’ve been working on giving that to myself,” he admits and your heart soars for him. “But I’d also prefer to have your love too, if you’ll still have me.”
You smile your gorgeous smile and he knows immediately that everything is going to be alright. “I’d like that.”
Imma need you to please expand on this little thought because I’m dying to see it!! 🤣
OKAY SO
poor Az has got himself in a bit of a pickle and fallen through space and time to our universe
let’s say the poor lad comes to in a residential area and is looking around like shocked pikachu. He begins to walk around in a daze, his hand on the hilt of Truth-Teller. He’s searching for some sign of life, but there’s nobody. All of the houses are in darkness and everything is eerily still and quiet and freezing cold.
AND THEN — and then — he realises the door to one of the houses is open just a crack. And…what’s that? A strange glow emanating from inside. Az draws Truth-Teller 🗡️ and inches towards the door, pushing it open with his fingertips. There’s still no noise, no sign of life, but the glow is coming from a strange little orb atop of a table.
Az opens his mouth to call out, but — he’s cut off! “ONE NEW NOTIFICATION FROM AMAZON SHOPPING”. It’s coming from the glowing orb. Az jumps out of his skin and juts Truth-Teller at the offending the object.
“Who is that?” He demands. “Show yourself.”
“ONE NEW NOTIFICATION FROM AMAZON SHOPPING,” the orb repeats. “A SHIPMENT CONTAINING: GLASS ANAL BEADS, IS DUE TO BE DELIVERED TODAY.”
Az marches up to the orb, the tip of Truth-Teller poking its front. “Who’s there? Reveal yourself at once—”
“A NEW RECOMMENDATION BASED ON YOUR READING HISTORY HAS ARRIVED. WOULD YOU LIKE TO LEARN MORE?”
“No—”
“AMAZON RECOMMENDS: “A COURT OF SILVER FLAMES”. I CAN ADD IT TO YOUR WISHLIST. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO DO THA—”
Poor Lexi’s voice trails off as Az slams the tip of Truth-Teller right through the orb, ending her torturous incantations. He breathes a sigh of relief, tries to gather his thoughts and wonders how the fuck he’s going to get out of here. He sheaths Truth-Teller once more, muttering an irked “seriously?” at the fact that the evil ball is still glowing in front of him despite him stealing its voice. And then—
