A/n: Hey yall, Iâm trying to get back into writing so here is something Iâve been working on. Sorry if the ending seems rushed, Iâve been working on it for days and Iâm tired lol.
Summary: When missing Azriel becomes unbearable, you decide to write him letters. Not to send, of course, just for yourself. But what if a certain shadow singer got his hands on them.
Warnings: 18+ provocative language and scenes.
The House of Wind felt bleak tonight, as it has for the past 3 days. Yes, your nights are spent alone, your bed, alone, but thereâs a comfort in knowing that a certain shadow singer usually slept only down the hall from you. Azriel had left Velarisâ fresh spring air to bone chilling Windhaven for a mission that he said would only last 2 days.
Now, 3 have gone by. No word from him, not to you at least. At dinner you were able to (not so) subtly ask Rhys for an update on him. Apparently, thereâs a group of rouge Illyrianâs still hiding from the aftermath of the war, more of them being discovered every month, some even boldly returning home in hopes that they will be protected from the High Lords punishment by their own. Azriel has the dis fortune of tracking them all down, thereby prolonging his stay for cauldron knows how long.
Leaning against the railing of your bedrooms balcony, you sigh. The spring breeze brushing against your skin, yet its warmth does not reach you. You watch the glittering lights of Velaris in the late night. So much beauty and life, but you still feel alone.
Not really in a âno oneâs aroundâ kind of way. You trained everyday with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie, had dinner with Nesta and Cassian in the evenings, spent time with the rest of the inner circle when they arrived.
Itâs all just feels different without him. When Nesta all but dragged you up to the training grounds a year ago, she also accidentally rewired your entire brain. She introduced you to the male who has stolen your heart, locked it in a safe, chained up that safe and buried it in the heart of this world. Complete and utterly his now. All thatâs left is for him to figure it out and reciprocate the sentiment.
You became friends rather quickly, his shadows taking a liking to you, slipping past Azriel to entangle you in affection. Despite them being an extension of himself, he does not express the same emotion. The child like excitement they seem to gain in you presence.
You giggle. The thought reminding you of Nyx today at dinner. He ran to you and embraced you so hard, you fell on your ass.
Azriel would have found that hilarious, you think. If only he could have been there to see it. If only you could tell him about it.
I mean, you could tell him about it. Theoretically, you could write him a letterâŠ
Theoretically, you could send itâŠ
Theoretically, he could read itâŠ
But that would be weirdâŠright? Itâs only been 3 days. Youâre sure he has better things to do than to read about how a one year old knocked you over.
In fact, youâre sure itâs the last thing heâd want to hear about after hunting down Illyrian traitors all day.
Yet, youâre itching to tell him.
You silently make your way to the desk in your room and take a seat, pulling out a blank sheet of paper. Perhaps you can make the short story more entertaining than it really was.
You let the pen scratch at the paper.
Thatâs how you start these things off right? Itâs been 3 days since youâve been gone and you sure have missed a lot. Yesterday in training, Cassian attempted to cover up a fart by dropping his sword. He did not time it correctly. And if the sound was not loud enough to alert us, the smell was. And tonight at dinner, Nyx charged straight at me and tackled me with the force of 1000 Illyrians. Not nearly as gentle as your shadows. I fear I may have dislocated my spine.
You stop, realizing that is the full extent of what Azriel has missed out on since his departure. It has only been 3 days but it feels like an eternity.
You open the drawer and toss the lousy excuse for a letter in it, slamming it shut with irate disappointment.
He better come back soon or you just know youâll die.
You must have begrudged The Mother. Must have burned babies alive in a previous life to deserve the torment of missing Azriel. You felt it in your stomach, bloated with the amount of emotion you were trying to hold back.
âWhatâs got your leathers in a bunch?â Nesta asks amused from her twinned sit up position beside you.
Training, as it has been for the last 5 days, is miserable. Another reminder that Azriel is not here
âNothing.â You answer flatly, not wanting to engage in the conversation that is about to happen.
âMissing him already?â She asks with feigned innocence.
Already? If only she knew.
âShut up.â You mumble, fighting the heat that singed your cheeks. You return to your sit ups, hoping to disguise the color rising in your skin.
Cassian did a better job at disguising the fart.
âIâm just teasing. Heâll be back soon.â Nesta huffs a laugh as she sits back up.
âI know.â Is all you reply.
But you didnât know. Which is how you ended up back at your desk, a fresh sheet of paper before you and your pen in hand.
I hope all is well. We missed you at training today. Cassian caught Emerie and I cheating at our planks and made us do 20 more. In my defense, I was exhausted. I havenât slept too well the past few days. Your shadows usually linger at my door but they have gone with you. I didnât realize how much comfort it brought me. Did you know you leave a piece of yourself with me at night? Anyways, I know you would have made us do 50 more planks but it still would have been nice to have you there.
You set the pen down, reading your own words over and over, imagining how he would react, how he would feel after reading each sentence.
This letter feels more vulnerable. Definitely not what you intended to write but certainly what you wish you could tell him. If only you werenât such a coward.
Day 8 starts with you struggling to get out of bed. Your head telling you to get up and your body refusing to moved, depleted from the lack of sleep and heart ache. You are a pathetic mess over a male who you have no claim over.
You hadnât mustered the strength to go to training, barely managed to make it to lunch where you are met with the concerned stares of Nesta and Cassian.
You acknowledge them with a nod and take a seat at the table, a fresh meal appearing before you.
âYou missed training.â Cassian addresses the obvious.
âYou look like hell.â Nesta observes setting her fork down and forgetting about her meal.
You breathe a laugh, pushing the food around your plate. âHavenât slept much.â
âClearly.â Nesta âs eyes softened with sympathy. She is one of the very few people who know of your Azriel affliction, always encouraging you to go for it, that he feels the same way. When youâd ask her how she would know that, she simply says she just does. How reassuring. âLetâs have a ladies night. You, me, gwyn and Emerie. A few glasses of wine and a magic house never disappoints.â
And so that night you end up drunkenly squished beneath the pile of girls, feathers falling all around you as you attempt to laugh.
âSurrender! You are no match for our combined strengths!â Gwyn yells through her fit of giggles.
âNever.â Youâre barely able to get out from your crushed lungs.
âNesta, her head!â Emerie shouts.
Nesta rolls off of the pile and grabs the nearest (hardly) intact pillow before hitting your head with it. So much is happening. Being crushed and swatted at is not for the weak.
âI-â smack âsurrender!â You say between hits to the dome.
Suddenly, the weight of your friends disappears and the pillow to the head ceases. The four of you laughing uncontrollably. You really needed this.
Once the laughter dies down Gwyn speaks. âAre you finally gonna tell us whatâs going on?â
You groan, too intoxicated to hold your tongue and push down the feelings. âI miss Azriel.â
Despite them already knowing of your ridiculous love for the shadow singer, itâs still humiliating to talk about the unrequited love and awkward when they encouraged it.
âHeâll be back soon, though.â Emerie responds, laying on the floor beside you.
That was another one you hated hearing. All week, Nesta had been saying the same. âIt doesnât feel that way.â
âMaybe youâll miss him so much that when he comes home youâll tell him how you feel and heâll fuck you against the counters. Thats what Cass and I would do.â Nesta shrugs with a smirk on her lips.
Your cheeks ignite in flames. âNesta! Stop!â You slam your palms to your cheeks attempting to contain your embarrassment.
âWhat! Heâs IllyrianâŠIllyrianâs are horny.â Nesta adds, Emerie barks a laugh from beside you.
âEmerie, is it true that the bigger an Illyrian maleâs wings are the bigger theirâŠâ Nesta trails off.
You all laugh, Nesta sure has no filter when she drinks but it entertained you. It made you forget why youâve been miserable the last week of your life. Being here with them made things okay.
âThatâs what they say. The males love talking about their wing span and sizes. Itâs funny to watch them in a group, all flexing and sizing each other up, ready to whip it out.â Emerie indulges Nestas curiosity .
Youâve never heard of such a thing but her answer leaves you curious too. You havenât met many Illyrians. And the only Illyrian males you knew were the three brothers of the inner court.
âWho has the biggest wings?â Gwyn asks coyly adding laughter to the air.
âAzriel.â Nesta answered in a heart beat, immediately turning to look at you with a mischievous smile so wide you thought her cheeks might fall off.
You tensed. You never noticed the difference between the males wings. Of course youâve stared at Azriels beautiful wings, took note of their size and strength, the way they twitched when he neared.
You remember a time in training when Cassian and Azriel were stretching, focusing unusually on their wings. You marveled at the full extend of Azriels wings, had seen just how far they spanned on either side of him. Glorious.
And if his wings matched his cock, then it must be glorious too.
Warmth grew between your thighs. There have been plenty of nights where you imagine him, his manhood. Sometimes his mouth between your legs, his fat cock in your hands or inside of you. You dream of the day.
The night ended shortly after but the desire didnât. You writhe in your sheets, letting your sensitive skin prickle with need against the soft material. In all this time of missing him, you hadnât even thought to relive yourself. A pretty common occurrence, shaded by your sadness.
But tonight, with all the wine in your system and the new information you learned, your body ached for it. Ached for your fingers to find your most sensitive area as you thought of those brilliant wings.
A thought creeps in and in an instant youâre at your desk, pen in hand.
Do you ever think of me the way I think of you? I lie awake at night with such filthy thoughts of you. Today I learned that you have the largest wing span of your brothers. Another filthy thing to fill my mind with while youâre gone. The same hand that writes this letter will find its way between my thighs tonight, though I wonât imagine itâs my own.
You bite your bottom lip, intending to keep your promise before clumsily throwing the paper in the drawer.
The 9th night is just as miserable as the rest. You canât take it anymore yet thereâs nothing you can do. You canât drag him home, you canât join him, and you most definitely cannot send him these letters.
Once again, you scribble your feelings down on the sheet of paper for tonight. The smallest sense of relief coming only when you dot the last period of the letter.
You sigh. How ridiculous. These letters were pointless. Sure, you got certain things off your chest but none of it matters when heâs still gone and the wound opens up in the morning.
You pull out every sheet of paper, reading over them. You sound like a child. A love sick child trying and failing to hide their true feelings.
You silently ask the house for a fire and one ignites in the hearth. You look over them once more before deciding they have no place in the world and would not have a place in his heart.
You stand from the desk despondently. Youâll let the letters burn until it dies as you will your feelings for Azriel.
Suddenly, boots hit the ground of your open balcony, not too hard, not too soft. Your heart stops in your chest.
You whip around to find Azriel approaching the balconyâs door frame. His face, dirt ridden, leathers dark and muddy, scented of iron and his wingsâŠhis wings still as splendid as ever.
âHello.â You manage to breathe out. The air in your lungs nowhere to be found.
Azrielâs eyes flicker down to the small pile of papers in your hands. âWhatâs that?â Just like that, your heart jump starts, banging against your ribcage. Embarrassment shuddering through your every nerve.
âNothing!â You say a little louder than you hoped. You messily shove the papers into the desk drawer, one dastardly sheet falling out and guided by the wind alllll the way to Azrielâs feet.
He bends down to pick up the secret letter. You shriek, racing for the door and swiping it up before he could reach it. You didnât know you could move that fast.
Itâs then that you realize youâre chest the chest with Azriel. He looks down at you with those golden eyes, confusion laced in them.
You shriek again, rushing back to your desk and shoving the last traitorous paper into the desk and finally slamming it shut.
The room is silent, save for the crackling fire.
You silently curse yourself. You didnât even need to send the letters to feel humiliated by them.
âYouâre back.â You state. Not knowing how else to cut the tension.
âYeah.â Azriel responds shortly.
You wanted to throw yourself into the fireplace.
âWhat are you doing here?â
Azriel shifts on his feet, scratching the back of his head, eyes fixating on the trim of the door frame. âI wanted to see you.â
Once again, youâre speechless, not knowing how to respond to such a statement. He wanted to see you? But heâs covered in blood and dirt, he landed in the balcony. Was he just barely getting back now? Were you the first person heâd come to see?
Silence. The both of you at a lack of words.
âIâm sorry I was gone so long. It was only supposed to be 2 days but there were so many of them.â Azriel steps into your bedroom. An unnatural occurrence.
Your very bones going hot and cold all at the same time. You canât help but glance at his wings behind him. A blush now staining your cheeks. âOh no, Rhysand told me- usâŠthat youâd be gone longer.â
âGood.â Azriel says, looking around your room. You canât tell if itâs genuine interest or escape from the tension between you two.
He reaches your desk beside the bedroom door, only a few feet away from you. âI just wanted to see you. Explain myself.â
Your limbs begin to shake like an overjoyed school girl despite his eyes no longer reaching yours. A faint pink tints his cheeks as he eyes your desk, the drawer.
âYou donât need to do that. I understand your work, Azriel.â You almost reach for him. Almost offer him comfort, knowing that his past is what makes him feel that need of reassurance that he has done anything wrong.
His looks at you then. His eyes softened with a look you canât identify. âRight then. Have a goodnight.â
âGoodnight, Azriel.â You say hardly above a whisper as he exits your quarters.
You were acting weird last night. If Azriel was being honest, he expected you to be all smiles and giggles. Greeting you is different than the rest of his family. Youâre usually excited to see him rather than just content. His favorite part of the day is seeing you for the first time.
But last night you looked like youâd seen a ghost when he flew onto your balcony. Perhaps it was because heâs never done that before? No, heâd caught you doing something and it had to do with the papers.
What are its contents? Heâd vaguely caught a glimpse at the markings but not enough to distinguish its writing.
His thoughts are cut short when his brother arrives at the training grounds.
âWell, well, well, look whoâs back. You better not try to steal the credit for these girls improvements.â Cassian claps him in a hug, smacking his back unnecessarily hard, but thatâs who his brute of a brother is.
âOr lack there of.â Azrielâs lip curls in amusement. Cassian rolls his eyes.
The two fall into their natural warm up routines, talking, catching up when Cassian reveals something that truly catches his attention.
âY/n was acting strangely.â
So he wasnât delusional.
âHow so?â Azriels asks doing his best to remain neutral.
Cassian scratches his stubble. âMmm, just strange. Kind of moody, distant. She didnât even come to training a few days ago.â
That was concerning. He knows that you hate the working out part but you never miss an opportunity to be with your friends, even if it involves 100 sit ups.
âStrange indeed.â Azriel glances over his shoulder to the entrance. Would you miss today too? âDid sheâŠsay anything?â
Cassian shakes his head. âNot much. Said she having trouble sleeping though.â
Azriel canât help but worry at this information. Of course, he thought you were behaving differently but for it to affect you this much? He had to fix it, whatever it is.
As if hearing his thoughts, you, along with the Nesta and Gwyn, come up the stairs and into view. The three of you laughing about whatever it is youâre talking about. You wear a big smile, a barely noticeable bounce in your step.
You donât look sleep deprived. In fact, you look radiant, no longer pale as you were last night.
âGood morning, ladies. Ready to lose all sensation in your arms and legs?â Cassian claps his hands together, the sound commanding their attention.
The three girls groan, long gone are the big smiles and laughter.
âDonât try showing off just because Azriels back.â Nesta rolls her eyes and adjusts her leathers for the intensity to come.
Cassian gasps, hand over his chest. âI have been training you all very hard.â
Cassian earns a laugh from the group, Azriel might have laughed too if he wasnât so preoccupied with worrying about you.
Youâre smiling and laughing, no bags under your eyes, your skin glowing. To anyone else you would seem fine, but there is one thing. You didnât greet him.
You smiled at him and thatâs was it. A part of him hurt at that observation. For more than a week, Azriel had hunted, killed and bled, the only thing keeping the thought of all the horrors he committed at bay, was the anticipation of your greeting. To see your eyes light up and for you to all but run to him. Last night was an absolute failure of his imagination. He hoped this morning would be exactly what he was waiting for.
He swears to himself he will find out what is bothering you.
âAlright, let the torture begin.â Cassian announces after everyone completes their stretches. The ladies stand and begin to follow him.
Azriel reaches for you, gently grabbing your arm and holding you back as the others proceed. You look up at him with those eyes he loves so much, now big and full of surprise. âYouâre with me today.â
You look away, a blush just barely tinting your cheeks. A small smile forms upon Azrielâs lips.
You walk beside him, allowing him to guide you to the ring. âI want to work on your stances.â
âMy stances? Whatâs wrong with my stances?â You ask. Nothing honestly, but he plans to interrogate you and maybe he wants you to himself for a while.
âBefore I left, I noticed your stances change at times. Today weâre just going to be standing. Correctly, of course.â Azriel teases a bit, earning a slight smile from you.
âWhatever. Letâs stand then.â You get into your attack stance, feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, arms up.
Azriel approaches you, circles you, examining you head to toe. Your stance isnât perfect but itâs not bad, though, after the first inspection, his focus had turned to just checking you out. In your leathers, Azriel could hardly focus on anything else.
The tight material clinging to you like a second skin, it makes him jealous really. The way they hug your thighs, waist. The tightness on your chest is what really riles him up. If only he could touch.
And then he realizes he can touch.
He stops just behind you, catching the way your breath hitches when his hand hovers over your waist.
âMay I?â His voice is smooth, laced with a dark, sweet, syrup. Your figure trembles momentarily, as if a chill went up your spine.
You only nod in response.
Azrielâs hands barely touch your hips as he slightly adjusts you, his left hand coyly sliding down to your mid thigh as he pulls it back. Only a bit but enough to send your back into his chest.
You gasp, standing up straight again. âS-sorry.â
This is what he imagined his coming to look like. Having you somewhat in his arms, a blush on your face and knots squeezing in his stomach. He missed this, ached for this while he was away.
âHow did you sleep?â Azriel asks, turning to a more serious topic.
âGreat actually.â You bite the inside of your cheek, holding back a smile.
Azriel raises a brow. âIs that so? Cassian said youâve been struggling with sleep.â
You frown. âCassian is a busy body gossip.â
âSo then you have been struggling with sleep?â Azriel comes to stand in front of you now, once again taking you in but this time, itâs your face that he examines.
âIâveâŠbeen up reading a new book series. I canât put it down.â You wobble in your stance a bit then get yourself into position.
âHmm.â Azriel thinks. Itâs not unlike you to stay up late reading so why were you so shaken last night? âIs that what you were putting away last night? Excerpts from the book?â
You tensed, your whole body locking up, your eyes widening with the same shock of last night. Your mouth opens then closes then opens again. âYeah. Notes.â
Your words are tight, rushed.
Azriel simply hums in acknowledgment.
Youâre lying and heâs going to figure out just what is going on.
After training, Azriel holds Nesta back. You look back at them confused but continue towards the exit.
âWhat is it, shadow singer?â Nesta blows out a heavy breath and flops onto the bench. Azriel remains on his feet, hands behind his back, his usual picture perfect calm. But inside heâs anything but calm.
âWhatâs going on with y/n?â He wastes no time and cuts right to the chase.
âSheâs actingâŠdifferently. Cassian says she hasnât been sleeping. Sheâs missing training.â
Nesta taps her chin, thinking dramatically. âMmm, not sure, have you tried asking her?â
âOf course I have. She said sheâs just reading a new book series.â Azriel rolls his eyes. Why you thought he bought your story is beyond him. As if you arenât a book heâs memorized front to back.
Nesta also rolls her eyes. âSheâs not the best liar.â
âLast night, I went to her room-â
âLast night you went to her room?â Nestas brow raises in amusement and a smirk coats her lips.
Azrielâs brows furrow. âLast night I went to her room to say goodnight. She had this stack of papers and she was in such a hurry to hide them that she was being clumsy and making a mess of them.â
Now Nesta really looks like sheâs thinking. âI really donât know about any papers.â
Azriel lets out a hopeless breath. âRight. Thanks anyway.â
Nesta nods as she stands and heads for the exit.
He has no choice. He has to know what those papers say. Why they had you so flustered last night. They must have something to do with whatâs troubling you.
That evening, you and Nesta go into the city, something about needing new pillows and once some time passed, Azriel takes full advantage of the opportunity.
As if you are still in the house, Azriel creeps down the hall and to your door, sending one of his shadows to scout the room for your presence. Canât be too careful.
After the all clear, Azriel slowly twist the nob of your door and slides through the crack he creates just big enough to fit him and closes the door behind him.
The room feels odd without you in it. Granted heâs only been in your room less than a handful of times, but thereâs something about the still air and emptiness that bothers him.
Azriel reaches for the desk drawer, carefully sliding it open. The drawer is filled with things. Trinkets, pins, pens, folded paper, crumpled papers andâŠloose sheets.
Azriel pulls out every loose sheet and flips through the mess. Some are blank, some are abandoned writings and letters from friends.
Azriel flipped through each sheet wonder how any of this could possibly be a problem.
He sighs. None of these are remotely secret worthy, so what were you trying to hide from him?
Azriel tosses the sheets of papers on your desk, rubbing his temples in confusion. What the hells is going on with you.
He groans looking back to the pile of papers, his brows knit together.
A sheet of paper buried at the bottom of the pile peeks out from underneath.
Azriel pinches the corner of the paper and slides it out from beneath the mess.
The bakery sold out of the honey rolls you like. I bought the last one and saved it⊠just in case you come home sooner than I expect.
A letter? Addressed to him? The perfectly dark ink suggests its recent creation.
Azriel picks up the pile once more, grabbing the next bottom sheet.
I hope all is well. We missed you at training today. Cassian caught Emerie and I cheating at our planks and made us do 20 more. In my defense, I was exhausted. I havenât slept too well the past few days. Your shadows usually linger at my door but they have gone with you. I didnât realize how much comfort it brought me. Did you know you leave a piece of yourself with me at night? Anyways, I know you would have made us do 50 more planks but it still would have been nice to have you there.
His shadows sleep with you? He in fact did not know that.
I worry every time youâre gone that I wonât see you again. Pathetic, I know. Itâs only been 4 days. I wonder if you miss me too? I bet your shadows do.
His heart stutters as if caught between beats. Youâd missed him. Enough to pour these words onto a page? He most certainly missed you, his shadows even more than himself with a vehemence so strong they nearly drawled him back many nights. They went crazy anytime he so much as thought of you during his mission.
Azriel takes a deep breath, attempting to regulate the thumping in his chest. Heâs successful in a sense as his heart plummets deep into the core of his stomach.
Do you ever think of me the way I think of you? I lie awake at night with such filthy thoughts of you. Today I learned that you have the largest wing span of your brothers. Another filthy thing to fill my mind with while youâre gone. The same hand that writes this letter will find its way between my thighs tonight, though, I wonât imagine itâs my own.
Azriel doesnât know what tighter, his hands gripping the paper or his cock in his pants.
Youâd touched yourself to him. Hand written down your private desires, touched this same sheet with those same hands that pleasured yourself.
He takes in every word, every letter. His eyes scanning the page over and over and over.
The image of you sprawled out against your silk sheets, nude just for him displays so vividly in his mind. Your soft hands lightly tracing over every curve, every sensitive part of you until your finger slides between your drooling slit, moaning his name.
Thatâs what you had done to yourself in his absence. Why you couldnât sleep or hold his eye contact. The embarrassment of him catching you with these vulnerable, provocative letters has left you shying away.
And Gods heâs beginning to feel the same way. His face turns beat red, flustered at the idea of being face to face with you after not only invading your private thoughts but the knowledge of how badly youâd wanted him in his absence.
A shadow slinks over Azriels shoulder, whispering. Coming.
Azriel jolts out of his lustfully hazed state, comedically scrambling for the pages and showing them in the drawer just as you had last night. All but one, that he quickly tucks into his leathers before slipping out of your room.
By the motherâs grace, just as he composed himself back into his stone faced, broody self, you round the corner, some bags in hand and a content smile.
âHey, Az.â Your head tilting slightly. âWhat are you doing in the middle of the hall?â
Az shrugs, doing his best to remain casual. But his eyes keep drifting to your hands. Those naughty hands.
âNothing. Iâm justâŠon my way toâŠsee Rhysand.â He fights the urge to punch himself in the head at his stumbling excuse.
You hum in response. âWell, these are heavy and youâre kind of in my way.â You gesture towards the bags in your hands. Again his eyes catch on your freshly manicured fingers. Heat once again rushing to his core, requiring him to adjust his shadows a bit.
âAz? Iâm dying here.â You groan pulling the bags back up your forearms.
Azriel snaps out of his trace once more. Quickly reaching for your bags and taking them all like they weigh nothing.
âOh! I didnât mean-â
âI know.â Azriel bites the inside of his cheek, suppressing the blush that insists on returning to his face.
You smile at him shyly. Those doe eyes looking up at him with gratitude and something more. Something he wasnât supposed to know.
He steps aside allowing you to move passed him to your room.
Azriel has no idea what to do with this information but what he does know is that heâs fucked.
Azriel could not find sleep, didnât even try to. His only thoughts are the echoing words on the page he holds in his hands.
The same hand that writes this letter will find its way between my thighs tonight,
Is that what youâre doing now? He wonders, if he walked past your room, would he hear you? Would he catch your scent?
Though, I wonât imagine itâs my own.
In the empty silence of the night, do you find solace in imagining his mouth between your legs as he does?
Azriel doesnât remember when his hand drifted from the paper, down beneath the waistband of his shorts.
His half lidded eyes remain fixated on your words as his hand pumps.
Though, itâs not his hand he imagines.
The following morning, training is tense, for Azriel at least.
Itâs him who now shys away from you.
The letters were a pleasant surprise, of course, but he was wrong to go through your belongings and he was so wrong for what heâd done with it. Not that he has never touched himself to the thought of you but touching himself to your secret dirty thoughts is a level of perverse he wish he didnât cross.
He canât even look you in the eye and barely spoke a short greeting. Even when youâd looked excited to him, the shame was eating him up.
You spent the first half of training teasing and poking at him, but he just couldnât put on the act. Heâd get too flustered and embarrassed if you were within 10 feet of him. The last half, youâd given up.
Cassian ended training and slowly everyone made their way out. Everyone but you.
Azriel did his best to casually slip away but he knew youâd catch him.
âAre you mad at me?â You ask from across the ring. Azriel is hesitant at first. What if he pretends he didnât hear you and keep walking? Then youâd really think heâs mad at you.
He turns, eyes steady on the horizon as he clears his throat. âNo.â
âThen why are you acting weird?â You cross your arms. Gods, if only he had been as blunt with you yesterday.
Azriel focuses on his breathing, willing himself to finally meet your stare. âIâm not acting weird.â
His steady heart, short lived as you walk towards him. Your hair shines in the sunlight, but still not as brilliantly as your eyes. Your hips swaying with each step in those tight leathers nearly stops his heart entirely.
âSo nothings wrong?â Your brows knit together in question.
It feels wrong to lie to you, especially when the lie is about you. He can see it in your eyes, you know heâs lying, youâve always been able to tell when heâs hiding something. Be it a secrete or a wound, you always got the truth out of him.
âI did something I shouldnât have. I wronged a friend.â Azriel confesses. He can be honest without being completely honest, right?
Your expression softens. âDo you want to talk about it?â
He wants nothing more than to speak of the letters, to tell you he missed you just as much, that he dreams of you every night heâs ever away.
But to speak about them would be to reveal how he had read them.
âNot now.â Was all he can say.
You nod, looking at the ground now.
An awkward silence fills the space between you two. His hands squeezing together behind his back while you gently kick at a small rock.
Azriel has no idea what to do or say. He doesnât know how to act around you now, period. If not because he read your private confessions to him, then because heâs fighting the urge to take you against the floor mats.
âYou know, I bet I can stand on one leg longer than you can.â You say out of the blue. Itâs not unlike you, especially in moments of silence. Heâs certainly grateful for the distraction.
âDo you now?â The corner of his lip curves and short breath leaves him. Relief.
âYup. Iâve been working on my stance like you said. Iâve mastered balance.â You nod confidently.
âOne day made that much of a difference, huh?â His stomach knots as the words leave his mouth. A day really can make a difference.
âWanna bet? Loser buys the winner whatever they want from Mimiâs.â You smirk. Of course youâd choose your favorite bakery, though, Azriel does enjoy their pastries.
He nods, accepting your challenge. âBe prepared to buy one of everything.â
âOh hush. 3âŠ2âŠ1!â
The two of you stood across from each other, armâs length apart. Your eyes burn into his with a competitive intensity that can only match his. As if he could fall any more for you, his chest fills with glee.
You wobble for a second, finding your balance again and rolling your eyes at Azriels smirking, still figure.
âYou look nervous.â Azriel teases, voice low and steady.
âIâm not nervous.â You murmur as response.
âLiar.â Azrielâs shadow slinks around your grounded ankle, the sensation causing you to wobble again. Your arms swaying to counter your weight.
âS-stop that! Youâre cheating!â You whine, still trying to stay balanced.
Azriel canât help but laugh at the sight. You look ridiculous, arms flailing, your raised leg stretching and pulling back. You look like a baby Illyrian learning to fly.
Then your other leg touches the ground. Both feet now planted on the stone.
âNot fair!â You smack his arm. His shadows swirl around you and you swat them away. âYou too, cheaters.â
âI donât know, I didnât see anything.â Azriel shrugs placing his raised foot on the ground now.
âYou donât have to see them, you are them.â You pout.
Azriel shrugs again. He missed this. Missed you. Heâd been gone for a week but it had felt like an eternity and the last two days have been full of secrets and avoidance. He craved this normalcy.
âWell, a deal is a deal. I wasnât kidding when I said one of everything.â Azriel smirks.
âFine. But we canât go today.â
âI do prefer my prizes to be immediate.â Azrielâs on a high if heâs being honest. He doesnât want it to end. Heâd spend every moment of his day with you if he could.
âToo bad. Theyâre closed on this day of the week. No treats for you, Shadowsinger.â You walk past him to towards the exit.
Azriel follows in suit, his steps matching yours. âOh, Iâll have my treat.â
He doesnât miss the way your shoulder twitches at his choice of words.
âWhere do you suppose I find this treat?â
âThere are plenty of options. Ritaâs has some good selections.â Azriel runs his chin in false thought. âOr you can bake them for me.â
âRitaâs is also closed at this hour and I donât bake.â You shrug failing to hold back your smile.
âThen perhaps youâll give me that honey roll youâve been saving me.â
The words slipped out before he even thought of them.
You cock your head to the side in confusion. âHuh? What honey roll-â the words died on your tongue and you come to a halt. The letters. You had written about a honey roll.
Azriel also stops. His brain too busy coming up with excuses. He meant to say something playful in your banter but he hadnât meant to say something incriminating.
You shake your head in denial. There is absolutely no way. âYou didnât.â
Azrielâs blood went cold. He didnât know what to say. No excuse, no lie that would undo what he just revealed.
âYou read them?â You say barely more than a whisper. Devastating humiliation courses through your every nerve.
Azriel swallows hard. âI didnât mean to-â
âYou didnât mean to? How many?â
His heart was in his stomach. The guilt and shame of it all now returning tenfold. He remains silent.
âAll of them.â He mumbles staring at the floor, eyes once again unable to stand the weight of look at you.
Your hands fly up, covering your beet red face. âOh Gods.â
âI swear, I thought something was troubling you and the night I returned you were trying to hide these papers and I just wanted to help and-â
âYou wanted to help so you snuck into my room and went through my things?â Your words muffled behind your hands.
âWell, you wouldnât have told me. I tried asking about your sleep and you said it was a book.â Azriel counters.
âI-I have to go.â You rub your cheeks, silently begging the mother that Azriel wouldnât see how red you are.
âWait, Iâm sorry.â Azriel gently grabs your arm, holding you back. âReally, I was trying to help.â
You pull away, the need to escape this mortification is all you canât think of. Without a word, you hurry down the steps and disappear down the hall.
Azriel fucked up. Not just by letting the honey roll slip but in going through your private belongings. To see what he saw.
He slumps into his office chair, hands running through his hair as a soft sigh escapes him. The nauseating guilt eats away at him, slowly and deeply. His shadows curl around him, restless, as if they also understand the gravity of his betrayal.
He didnât mean to find those letters. Well, didnât mean to find such intimate confessions to himself. Never in a million centuries would he have thought youâd write such things to him.
It was a shock, truly. He had expected to find, perhaps, a disturbing document or a letter from an angry family member. Something to explain your odd behavior, the last thing he expected was the letters to hold hints of your feelings for him.
Azriel hasnât had the best track record with love. Heâs a fool when it comes to it. Every time he believes he might have something good, he goes and fucks it all to hell.
The day that Nesta had brought you to training, he was a goner. You were quite literally the most beautiful female heâd ever laid eyes on. His chest nearly collapsed entirely when you greeted him with a shy blush, hands fumbling with your leathers.
He thought you were nervous to be around Illyrians, maybe Illyrian males, or that your leathers were uncomfortable. Had you been just as struck as he had been in that moment?
He wishes he could ask you, to just be as honest as youâd been in those letters. Yet, he is not bold enough, especially not now with you so upset with him.
How long is he supposed to wait to speak to you? Would you be ready in a few hours? Days? Weeks? Would it even help to apologize again? He had explained himself, apologized but it wasnât enough.
Would this hurt you, mortify you to the point of your feelings for him vanishing?
That thought hurts the most. If only he had asked you what was truly going on as you had asked him. He might have coaxed a truth as you had.
All of these âif onlyâs. The truth is already revealed. He cannot undo the mess but what he can do is be honest, vulnerable.
Azriel does the only thing he can think to do. He grabs a pen and paper.
You couldnât sleep. You wish you could sleep more than ever right now. You wish you could fall into an eternal slumber and never have to come face to face with that beautiful bastard again.
How could he do such a thing? What possessed him to believe he can enter your private space and scavenge through your things so freely? And to find the one thing you did not want him to find?How could the mother let such a thing happen!?
Mortification is not a strong enough word to describe how you feel. The shame of having confessed your feelings to someone you know does not feel the same is of another magnitude.
Youâd run out of tears hours ago, spending the later half of the day and all night letting them flow. You feel dried up, drained of all the emotions youâve felt today.
You turn over in your sheets, looking at that stupid desk, still in possession of those stupid letters you wrote.
You should have burned them. You should have thrown them in the fire like you intended instead of putting them back in your desk. Youâd panicked and this is the consequence.
You stood from your bed, once again asking the house for a fire, once again grabbing the stack. You didnât care to sort through all the stack, any important documents are damned to the same fate.
You throw the pages in the fire, one by one. You donât know exactly why, just let yourself do. With each sheet you toss, you imagine a piece of your love for him with it.
Might as well save yourself even more heartbreak when he rejects you.
A flash of white from the corner of your eye catches your attention.
You look over at your door spotting a white rectangle on the floor.
Your walk away from the hearth and to the door. You open it, searching the halls for the culprit but youâre only met with darkness and the occasional beams of moonlight through the windows.
Closing the door, you pick up the folded piece of paper and open it.
Your hands drop along with the paper. Itâs a letter. You can only imagine who itâs from.
Your heart pound in your chest. My starlight?
There is no way. This has to be a joke played by Nesta. No. Nesta was not so cruel as to play games with your heart, not unprovoked at least.
You canât bring yourself to read it. The hope sprouting in your heart is not something you can believe in. You throw the sheet onto your bed, rubbing at your eyes, yank at those roots wrapping around your soul, threatening you with love.
You just canât do it. Youâre afraid. Because what if you read it only to be refused with pretty words?
There is no world where your feelings bleed into his or where your hearts align with passion. Thereâs only want and yearning.
He is far too kind, too beautiful, too important to want someone like you. A silly female who punches dummyâs and gushes over him for a living.
And yet your heart aches to read more. As much as you fight it, that hope still lives deep inside of you. You love him, the damage is done and irreversible.
So you pick up the letter and read.
My days without you were a torment. 8 days I spent tracking in the freezing mountains from dusk to dawn with only the thought of you to keep me warm and going. There was one day that Devlon ordered a female to clean up a bowl of food he dropped himself. I ordered him to cleaned it up himself, even did that thing you do with your lip when youâre bossing me around. He didnât put up much of a fight. I think you would have been proud at that.
There was another day when I was searching the mountains, when I thought I caught your scent. It scared the shit out of me but it also excited me for just a second. Turns out it was a field of snowy flowers. Not sure which ones exactly but they smelled just like you. I took one back with me. Kept it on my pillow so that it would smell like you.
Durning the night, I did not sleep much. Itâs shames me to admit but the only nights I slept were the nights my need for you grew so strong that I couldnât resist touching myself. My chest, my stomach, my cock. Every inch of myself, I imagined belonged to you and those lovely hands. I imagined what itâs like to be buried in you so deep that we can never be separate again.
My souls is yours, my heart and very being is yours. Has been yours from the moment you looked up at me all shy and fumbling. Iâd like to imagine it was because youâd felt the shift of a new beginning as I did. Iâd like even more to ask you in person and to apologize for hurting you, embarrassing you, and breaking your trust.
I thought something was wrong. That you were in trouble or distress and instead of being brave enough to ask for the truth, I selfishly went searching for it on my own. Please forgive me. I beg it of you. I will grieve the loss of your love but I cannot live without your friendship. My greatest love, my starlight.
You hadnât realized when the tears started again but you know these are different. These tears are not of pain and humiliation, they are of love and joy.
Azriel loves you and had suffered just as you had in his absence. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.
Your chest swells with emotion. Your heart and head having a difficult time aligning but just like that-
Everything makes sense. The torture of missing him so badly, of aching to see him and be at his side.
You can hardly breathe as that beautiful golden thread stretched out, begging for him, begging to see him. Your mate.
Your feet move before you can think as you race to him, clad in your nightgown, feet bare and letter still in hand.
The cold stone floor bites at the soles of your feet with each quick step as your stride turns into a sprint. You barely reach his door when it swings open.
There stands the Night Courts mighty spy master, the shadow singer, your dearest friend and your mate. His broad, shirtless, chest puffs up and down as if he was the one sprinting and based off of his equally shocked expression, the bond had unmasked itself to him, too.
For a second, the two of you stare at each other. Eyes reaching for a silent answer from each other.
Then your lips were on his.
His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him. His lips, soft and plump, glide against yours in a primal dance neither of you rehearsed yet somehow mastered. Azriel put everything into this kiss. Every second of longing, desire, and love.
The world beyond his lips ceases to exist for you. The only thing you know is that you never want to breathe another breath if it means this kiss would last forever.
But despite your immorality, you did need to breathe.
You both pull away, panting, lips swollen and glossy with each other. For a moment, you look into each others eyes, no, souls. You want to speak, to say anything but all you can think of is the feeling of his lips, so you kiss him again, this time softer, yet another unspoken confession from your tender heart.
Itâs Azriel who pulls away first, his grip on your hip strong, afraid that if he lets go, youâll slip away once more. âI didnât mean to.â He says quietly.
One hand reaching up to perfectly cup your cheek. Made to perfectly hold you.
âI shouldnât have gone through your things. I broke your trust and-â
âI donât care.â You shake your head. You mimic him, resting your hand over his that holds your cheek. âThe letter your wrote, the bond, Cauldron I donât know where to start.â
âYou should care. I-â
âI donât. Not if it led us here.â You squeeze his hand. âYouâre my mate.â
He shudders at the word. The way it rolls off your tongue has something awakening deep inside him. The feeling reverberating through you, doing the same.
âYou love me?â You ask, trying (and failing) to mask the need arising in you.
The way Azriel vigorously nods his head and squeezes your waist only tells you he feels the same. âDo you love me?â
In response, you reach up on the tips of your toes and kiss him. âMore than you know.â
Azriel lifts you in his arms, bringing you into his room and shuts the door behind him for a night without secrets. Tonight, your bodies confess, what words cannot.
