#BUT YES i am endangering the same book around tea again. i am sorry

[jennablackmorebooks]

Matching tea with Mr. Arlot in this scene in Rainbow this evening, except mine is on ice ☕

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #booklr #book #writing #books #Rainbow #tea #hibiscus tea #novel #iced tea #reading #booklooks #book aesthetic #book pages #thank you Fable for letting me put him in my book he has great taste in tea <3 #this is a different tea from the tea from the other picture lol #BUT YES i am endangering the same book around tea again. i am sorry

[booksimp]

Flame of Autumn - Part Two

A/N: Part two of Midnight at Rita’s is finally here, everyone! Sorry it took so long, I started a new job and I’ve been a bit overwhelmed. As you can tell, I’ve named this series something different. That’s because Midnight at Rita’s was supposed to be a smut one off, but it has a mind of it’s own and has become an actual fic. This will be part two of a series called “Flame of Autumn”. This fic is going to be quite long, and more elaborate than anything I’ve written here so far. I hope you enjoy!

“Oh, fucking hell.” I curse, clapping a hand over my mouth in shock.

Azriel chuckles sardonically, running a hand through his already sex mussed curls, puffing out a shocked breath. His cheeks are an adorable shade of pink, eyes wide.  

“Well said.”

For a few moments, we just sit and feel the bond thrum between us, like the plucked string of a cello. We’re still flushed and dazed, our panting breaths the only sound in the room as we stare at each other. 

A strange intermingling of emotion overwhelms me. Elation, joy, desire. A desire to take hold of Azriel and never, ever be parted from him. But all of it is entirely eclipsed by a sense of dread. It wraps itself around my throat, my heart, like a noose of ice. 

A mate is just another person to lose, to endanger with my own existence. 

The faces of all those that have suffered to protect me, that I ultimately lost, flash across my vision. A macabre version of a scrapbook. Just as easily as he perceived my earlier insecurities, Azriel notices the rising emotions in me. With the mate bond newly revealed, I wonder if the connection we’d felt all night had been the first clue. That, and his uncanny ability to read me like an open book. 

“Sabine, I don’t expect anything from you. But I- I’d like to explore this. We can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” 

His face shines with hope as he takes my hand in his, squeezing gently. A hesitant reach down the bond caresses against me. His eyes are open and earnest, a shy smile on his face. The epitome of honest and trustworthy. 

I wonder what he would think if he knew Sabine isn’t my real name. 

A pang of guilt shoots through me, at the dishonesty of it, and it's suddenly hard to breathe. Lying to others has become disturbingly easy over the years I’ve been in hiding. I’m skilled at it now, diversion and distraction like second nature. But the thought of keeping up the ruse with my mate is unbearable. Having to lie every day, and to the person who should know the absolute truth of myself? I can’t do it. I won’t do it. 

I’m opening my mouth to admit things I haven’t in years, when my mothers face flashes through my mind. She was the first to implore me to hide my abilities, and the first to die because of them. 

“You threaten his crown. He will destroy everything you love to keep you quiet, my girl. You cannot give him more ammunition. You get close to no one. You keep moving. Don’t ever come back here.” 

Her words ring in my ears like I’m hearing them for the first time. I shut my mouth with a snap. I can’t tell Azriel anything, for fear of bringing the wrath of my father down on him. Can I even stay in Velaris? 

When I first heard of the hidden city of the Night Court, heavily guarded by the most powerful High Lord, I rejoiced. Isolated and with a varied population, it made the perfect hiding place. Not to mention that Velaris is far outside the reach of my fathers court. I’ve felt almost safe here, and the thought of leaving this city, of leaving Azriel, has my heart sinking into my stomach. Azriel slowly places a hand on my cheek, breaking me free of my internal struggle. Concern shapes his features, hazel eyes heartbreakingly gentle. He is too perceptive to not see the indecision and fear in me, bond or not. Without meaning to, I speak. 

“Okay.” 

A relieved grin graces his lips. I feel the apprehension fading from him, being replaced with soft joy. It makes my decision for me. Azriel is an Illyrian, not exactly an easy target. We’re in the safest place there is for me. If I guard my secret well enough, I can stay. Stay, and see where this newfound bond leads us. I pray to the Cauldron that I’m not making a stupid, selfish mistake. 

“Are you sure?” His brow furrows, intent on my response.

In that moment, I know that no matter how strongly he feels, Azriel will let me walk away. If I decide he’s not what I want, he would honor my choice no questions asked. It only makes me more certain of my decision. I’ve never been one to tolerate a controlling male.

“Absolutely. Are you?” I ask, inching closer to him, still clutching the sheets against myself.

His eyes flicker down to my chest, and back to my eyes. When a faint blush paints his cheeks, I nearly drop the bedding in shock. So the confident male can get flustered. I file the information away for later, barely containing a smirk. 

“Of course I am, I’ve waited almost six hundred years for you.” His voice is low, each syllable more sure than the last. 

My heart soars inside my chest at his words. Depthless hazel eyes bore into mine, and his shadows brush against my bare skin. They send shivers all along my body, and I edge even closer to him. He meets me in the middle of the bed, his forehead touching mine as his gaze roves over me like I’m a precious, once lost jewel. I do the same, drinking in the sight of the magnificent shadowsinger before me. My mate. 

Long ago, some inexplicable force decided that he belonged to me, and I him. I wonder what makes us so compatible, and I find I’m excited to discover every reason for myself. I want to know all the simple, small details of him like the back of my hand. I want to memorize the planes of his face, every color in his eyes.

If my mother could meet him, I imagine she’d remark on the beautiful grandchildren we’d make her. It's that thought, and the sudden realization that we are both very naked, that has a fierce blush coloring my face. 

“Maybe we should get dressed.” I whisper, only slightly breathless. 

Azriel’s eyes run along my sheet-clad form once more, before he pins me with  that now familiar alluring smile. 

“As you wish.” 

He says again, only making me more flushed at the memory. Without an ounce of shame, the Illyrian rises to his feet and walks to the dresser at the other end of the room. He begins digging through the drawers, before selecting some grey sweatpants and a long sleeve black shirt for himself. I’m still wrapped in his sheets, attempting to not gawk at the unobstructed view of his ass, when Azriel looks over his shoulder at me. He smirks at my obvious observation of his body.

“Do you want something other than your dress? Something more comfortable?”

I look down at the rumpled silk garment on the floor and grimace. He’s right, the thought of shimmying myself into it right now is about as appealing as a cold bath in the middle of winter.

“Yes please. Preferably something a bit warmer.” 

He nods, and picks a few items from his dresser. He places them on the bed before me and fixes me with a sweet, slightly shy grin. 

“Are you hungry? I have pastries from the bakery down the street. I could make coffee?” 

My ears perk at the mention of food, and my stomach grumbles in agreement. I like that instead of pushing me to continue our conversation about our future, he’s making sure I’m fed and comfortable. That warm, light sensation flutters in my belly again.  

“I never turn down coffee or carbs.” I manage to get out, smiling coyly. 

“Noted.” Azriel smiles again, a quiet amusement in his eyes. 

He leaves me to change, heading towards the kitchen to start the coffee. I put on the sweatshirt and black briefs left for me. Both are too big, but they’re warm and soft against my skin. Worlds better than the dress. I pull the collar of the sweatshirt up to my nose and inhale his scent of cedar and moonlight and rain. Gods, what does he bathe in that makes him smell so good?

For the first time all night, I’m able to observe Azriel’s bedroom. My eyes widen as I take in the beautiful A frame ceiling with exposed wooden beams. The soft patter of rain on glass draws my eyes to the east wall, which is made entirely of paneled windows. Silver rivulets of water run down their surface, reflecting flickering beams of moonlight into the room. The floors are a dark oak, the walls a calming sage.

Candles burn on Azriel’s overflowing bookcase, and the fireplace crackles merrily on the opposite wall. I reach out hesitantly with my ability, and feel the heat of each flame flicker inside my awareness. For a moment, I watch the candle flames dance and twist under my will. It's rare that I ever have the chance to explore my gift, the small flames too often exploding into an uncontrolled inferno that attracts attention. But I can’t help playing just a little.   

The sound of a kettle whistling startles me from my reverie, and a few tea lights extinguish entirely. I wince, and quickly light them again before following Azriel into the kitchen. 

He’s at the counter, adding hot water to a french press. The earthy scent of coffee tickles my nose as he presses the grounds down, the muscles of his arm flexing deliciously.

“How do you take your coffee?” He asks, gesturing towards a pale box of pastries for me to choose from. 

“Cream and sugar. Lots of cream.” 

“You like your coffee sweet.” He smiles to himself as he pours extra cream and sugar into my cup, as if adding the observance to a mental list.

 I pad closer and peer at the box of pastries over his broad shoulder. On the front it reads ‘Diana’s Bakery and Coffeehouse’ in elegant script. I bite my lip to keep from laughing as I open the familiar box, and take a bagel from inside. 

He notices me smiling at the pastries and raises a thick eyebrow at me, the corner of his lip quirking up.

“What is it?”

“Nothing it's just - well I work at Diana’s.” I laugh, taking a bite of the magically warmed bagel after liberally smearing it with cream cheese. 

“You do? But I’ve been in there everyday this week, I haven’t seen you.” 

He passes my mug to me, filled to the brim with creamy coffee, and I take a careful sip. He leans against the marble counter, hazel eyes looking me up and down, that small smirk making an appearance once again. What is it about males liking us in their clothes? Not that I’m complaining. 

“Well, you wouldn’t. I work in the back with Diana as her baking apprentice. I even baked those cinnamon rolls.”

 I know they’re mine by the slightly imperfect glazing. Diana is meticulous and every single treat she bakes is always flawless.

He points to the icing covered cinnamon rolls inside the box, mouth gaping in shock. 

“These cinnamon rolls? They’re the best I’ve ever had. I’ve been buying you guys out everyday.” Azriel exclaims, eyes wide and alight with surprise. 

“Oh, so you’re the reason I’ve had to make twice as many recently?” I chuckle, pink staining my cheeks. The fact that Azriel loves my baking brings me way too much delight to be proper. 

“I’m sorry, but Cassian and I can’t get enough of them. What do you do to them? They’re like biting into a cloud!”

“I can’t tell you that! It's a secret recipe!” I wink, a goofy grin on my face.

Azriel rolls his eyes and smiles, grumbling about how secretive bakers are as he deposits a large mound of cinnamon rolls onto a plate. A truly genuine smile breaks across my face at the sight. He collects his own mug and leads me to a comfy couch, where we both plop down and tuck into our midnight snacks. 

I can’t help but watch him, completely mystified. This sexy, adorable male is my mate? I’ve never felt lucky a day in my life, but as Azriel finishes his third cinnamon roll, I can’t help but feel like the fates smiled on this one aspect of my life. Having finished my bagel, I sip on my coffee and relax into the couch. I’ve been running for a long time, keeping everyone at arm's length, never staying in one place for more than a few years. But maybe I can stay hidden in Velaris and keep Azriel a lot closer. Maybe I don’t have to be alone. I want that future so badly it becomes hard to breath.

“So you bake. You dance at Rita’s. What else?” 

Azriel’s voice brings me back to the present, and I glance up from my coffee cup. Silent laughter dances in the hazel depths of his eyes, his plate of pastries discarded on the coffee table. Suddenly self conscious under his intent gaze,  I reach a hand up to feel the tangled masses of my dark hair. I grimace when I realize what a mess it’s become. It will probably need to be dyed again as well.

“I play music. Mostly the piano. I write sometimes. And you?”

The admissions, however small, make my throat tight with anxiety. I haven’t told anyone anything true about myself in years, and I haven’t touched a piano in just as long. The feeling is nerve wracking, and I can’t help but feel exposed. My eyes follow the upward curve of his lips as he smiles at me, one arm draped over the back of the couch. 

 “I can see you playing piano. You have the hands for it.”

I blush at his statement, my gaze falling to my entirely ordinary hands. What does that even mean?

“I’m something of a homebody. If I’m not with my brothers, I’m probably here with a book. I train, I work, I come home."

That explains the mountains of novels all over his room. And the incredible body. He reaches over and runs a hand through my slightly curling hair, the hours I’d spent straightening it made useless. He curls one of the ringlets around his finger, giving it a slight tug, before he tucks it behind my ear. Every single nervous thought evaporates at his touch.

“I like your hair like this, especially since I’m the one who made it this messy.” 

He murmurs, a sudden heat in his eyes. I feel my body warm in response to that look, and I have to divert my gaze down at my lap to keep from jumping him right there. Again.

“You’re a shameless flirt, shadowsinger.” I mutter, playing with the silver ring of leaves on my finger, noticing that his thigh is now pressed against mine. When had he moved so close?

“Not usually, trust me. My brothers would be astonished.” He laughs, running a hand through his own messy hair. 

“Not usually?” I trace a finger along the back of his hand, fascinated by the combination of scarring and complex veins. 

He shivers slightly, and I smile in satisfaction. He’s not the only one who can play that game. 

“I make exceptions for my mate.” He whispers, taking my hand from his and pressing a kiss to my palm, lips soft and warm. 

“I was supposed to have drinks with my brothers. They must think I decided to stay in.”  He laughs against my skin, kissing his way to the pulse point of my wrist.

“Little do they know, huh?” I gasp, made breathless by his ministrations and the thought of exactly why he’d ditched his brothers tonight.

“Little do they know. When you’re ready, I - uh. I know they’d love to meet you.” He looks up at me, cheeks filling with color as he straightens. 

My stomach drops, and a bit of reality comes crashing down. A mate is one thing, but letting his family into my life? They’d be two more people to lie to, two more people in danger because of me. I avoid any straight answers, and decide to divert his attention elsewhere.

“Tell me about them?” I drink from my mug, using it as an excuse to break eye contact. I can’t shake the feeling that he can see down to the very truth of me when our gazes meet. 

“Their names are Cassian and Rhys. Complete idiots. But those two have saved my life in so many ways.” His eyes glow with a warm, far away look, a goofy smile on his face. 

“It sounds like you love them very much.” I speak softly, not wanting that radiant look to ever leave his face.

“I do. Do you have any siblings?” His eyes flicker back to me, the distance clearing from them. 

“An older brother. Micah.” I try not to let my voice break on his name, the longing slamming into my chest like a horse at a full sprint. 

I curse myself for using my brother's real name, a slip up I wouldn’t have made with anyone else. Azriel’s mere presence is enough to disarm me, and it's a struggle to focus with him this close. I haven’t seen Micah since the day our mother was murdered by my fathers sentries, and we both fled for our lives. In opposite directions. The day that started my life on the run. 

“Are you two close?” Azriel’s shadows curl around me as he squeezes my hand in silent support, like he already knows the answer. 

“We used to be, when we were young. Not so much anymore.” 

I tense, hoping that he doesn’t push the subject. I can’t exactly tell him the truth of our forced estrangement. At least not yet.

“Where are you from?” 

 His tone is light, and I am endlessly grateful for the change in conversation. He doesn’t seem to miss a thing when it comes to me. The thought is a constant inkling of worry in the back of my head. 

“Not Velaris.” I reply quickly.

It technically isn’t a lie, but the evasion feels even worse.

“I could’ve guessed that, love. I’ve lived here for hundreds of years, if you lived in Velaris I would’ve found you sooner. Are you from the Night Court?” 

He chuckles, taking up another strand of my hair to play with. For a moment, I forget that he’s waiting on a response. 

“No, Summer Court. Adriata. Did you grow up in Illyria?” 

 I attempt to change the subject, the subterfuge like spoiled milk in my stomach. I wish I could tell him all about my little cottage on the outskirts of the Autumn Court, about my mothers smile, and Micah’s penchant for getting me into trouble. Instead, I have to wriggle my way out of letting him get to know me. This is going to be harder than I thought. 

“Unfortunately, I did.” Shadows rise from deep within his eyes, blotting out almost all the light in them. 

I’ve heard many stories about the brutality of Illyria. Their perilous winters and sprawling mountains, the discipline that they ingrain into their children, how they throw themselves into the path of war. I wonder who put the scars on his hands, his wings, and I feel sick for an entirely different reason.

I search his eyes for answers, glimpsing an age old sadness there. I feel him trying to shove it down deep, but he can’t hide from me anymore than I can from him. A burning rage seethes in my chest at that sadness. It makes me want to grow claws and rip and tear, scorch those responsible with my flames.

He closes his eyes and rests his head where my shoulder and collarbone meet, a deep sigh leaving him. From the tension in his body, I know he wants me to let the topic drop. So instead of asking the questions on the tip of my tongue, I kiss the top of his head and stroke his back softly. He practically purrs, pressing closer, telling me to continue. I smile softly, trailing my fingers down his spine in slow circles. His back is deliciously firm, and rippling with muscles from his often used wings. Heat scorches across my face as I remember how I brought him over the edge just by kissing them, the absolute unleashing of it. 

“I- I didn’t realize. That, well um- your wings. That they were so-“ I stutter pitifully, the blush spreading down my neck. 

Azriel leans back to meet my eyes, a slight smile beginning on his face, previous troubles forgotten. 

“You didn’t know?” He asks, disbelief in his tone and a glint of amusement in his eye. 

“No, they just looked very kissable.”

He throws his head back and gives a loud, full belly laugh. I beam at the musical sound, satisfaction flowing through me. I want to make him laugh like that again and again.

“An Illyrian males wings are the most sensitive part of their body. If touched in the perfect spot, we can finish from that alone. As you saw. But they are also our greatest weapon, and we protect them accordingly. For that reason, I usually keep them far away from any - partners.” He explains after sobering from his laughter, voice soft and a slight blush painting his elegant cheekbones.

“But you make exceptions for your mate?” I ask, eyes downcast as I play with the cuff of his long sleeve shirt.

“I do. Only for you.” He takes my hands from his sleeve, and presses them to his lips once again.

I glance up at him, to find his eyes already on me. The warmth and tenderness I find there has my heart flying in my chest, and tears pricking my eyes. I blink them away hurriedly, looking to his wings instead of the intense emotion he’s showing me. For some reason, the adoration I see there has a small burst of fear running through me. 

“I’m glad you let me touch them. They’re beautiful.” I whisper reverently as l behold the incredible expanse of his wings. 

Vibrant plum and lavender, veined with maroon and the silver of scar tissue. I can’t even think of these beautiful, majestic wings being mutilated like that. My hands ache to touch them again, feel their silky warmth. 

“You definitely showed your appreciation for them.” He leans closer, his breath fanning across my cheek as he whispers in my ear. 

It sends shivers deep into my core, and I have to squeeze my thighs together and hope he doesn’t catch my scent. The confident, seductive Azriel of earlier tonight is back. 

“Not yet I haven’t.” I murmur, emboldened by my renewed need for him. 

The need comes quickly, overwhelmingly. Especially now that I know what being with him is like. Entirely world shattering. He may have ruined every other male for me. Again, not that I’m complaining. A low rumble comes from deep in his chest, and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me onto his lap with ease. 

“Is that so?” There’s a sultry promise in his voice, and I feel him stir against my thigh. 

The room is filled with our mingled arousal as he inhales against my neck. 

“I still can’t believe I found you.” He groans, pressing kisses against my throat. 

I let my eyes fall closed, shocked anew at how easily he reduces me to a gasping mess. His hands begin to roam over my hips and waist, his touch worshipping and disbelieving. When I begin to slowly move myself over his growing arousal, I feel a shift in him. His hands halt their exploration, and he tenses beneath me. I open my eyes to find his face veiled with worry, his brow creasing. 

“You don’t have to, Sabine.” He cups my face in his hands, dark eyes gleaming with concern. 

I try not to flinch at the false name, and I wonder what his voice would sound like saying the name my mother gave me.  

Shoving those thoughts away, I shake my head, a small grin forming on my lips. Does he not see how infatuated I am already? Of course I don’t have to, but I want to. 

“Az, you idiot.”

And with that, I plant my lips on his. He doesn’t need further convincing. His body responds to mine eagerly, a low growl building in his chest. My back meets the leather couch as Azriel maneuvers himself above me, his hands sliding under the hem of my sweatshirt. He is somehow gentle and commanding all at once, his skin burning hot against mine. I sigh into the kiss as I give myself to him, entirely content to do so this time. 

“You are the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He whispers against my lips, that reverent tone back in full force. My eyes prick as my chest fills with equal parts warmth and fear. I can see how easy it would be to love my mate. To fall fast and completely. And the part of me that’s been running scared from those I once loved is terrified.  

“I’m scared.” I murmur back, surprised at my own honesty.

I feel his frown against my lips, and he only holds me tighter. 

“I’m scared too, love. But I won’t ever hurt you. You’re - You are everything.” His eyes, soft and dark and endlessly kind, convince me. 

I smile sheepishly at him, holding out my left pinky. 

“Promise?”

Without hesitation, he wraps his finger around mine. 

“I promise.” 

The next morning, sunlight streaming in through the expansive windows wakes me. A sleepy contentment keeps me drowsy and warm, and I stretch like a cat after a particularly restful nap. 

“Good morning.” 

Cauldron, his morning voice is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I blink my eyes open, the blurry image of a very amused Azriel coming into focus. His black hair is tousled and falling onto his forehead, and pillow marks color his cheeks. 

Delicious.

I cuddle closer to him instead of replying, not ready to start the day yet. He wraps both arms around me as I bury my head in his very bare chest. Memories of last night rise to the surface, and I feel my cheeks warm. After his pinky promise, Azriel made love to me. That's the only way to describe the beautiful, tender way he touched me. He made sure every ounce of doubt was replaced with complete trust. It was the most intimate I had ever been with anyone in my entire life. 

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” He asks, a teasing grin curling his full lips.

I can’t help but remember those lips on my body in the living room. And the bedroom. And the bathtub. Needless to say, we didn’t sleep until dawn.

“W-What did I say?” I can only imagine the mortifying things my sleep self has to say to this male.

“Just my name. Over and over again.” His voice deepens, eyes darkening.

“Shut up! I did not!” I hiss, giving his shoulder a shove. 

He only chuckles and waggles a brow at me, before placing a kiss to my forehead. He smells even better in the morning, his cedar scent more potent. How is that even possible?

“How did you sleep?” 

He brushes my hair over my shoulder, peppering even more kisses across my collarbone. I shiver under his attention, my eyes falling closed again.

“Better than I have in a long time.” I admit, my voice still raspy with sleep. 

“So did I.” 

He runs gentle hands through my hair, our legs still entwined intimately. I haven’t felt this safe and content in someone’s arms since I was a girl, when my mom would hold me after I woke from nightmares about monsters under my bed. Azriel already feels like home, and the thought doesn’t scare me as badly as it did last night. Thoughts of my father seem distant and insignificant now, chased away by the bright morning light and warmth of my mate’s presence. 

“I wish I could stay here with you all day, baby.” He groans, a deep sigh leaving him. I can feel his reluctance in how firmly he presses me to him, strong arms locking me against his chest. 

“Then stay.” I grumble moodily, a frown curling my lips downwards. I know we can’t stay sequestered in his apartment forever, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. 

“I have to do some work for my brother today, but you’re more than welcome to stay in my bed. In fact, I hope you do.” Azriel chuckles, untangling his limbs from mine and kneeling before me. He drops a tender, lingering kiss on my lips  before standing.

My cheeks warm as my blood sings in my veins, and my breath catches in my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way his touch affects me. I hope I never do. 

“Oh? What kind of work do you do for him? Does he have his own shop or something?” I yawn my way through the question, cuddling myself into his vacated warm spot. 

Azriel smiles over his shoulder at me, while sliding into Illyrian fighting leathers. My mouth goes dry at how the skin tight garment outlines his muscular thighs and powerful chest, accentuating the golden tones of his skin. Hubba Hubba.

“Actually, Rhysand is High Lord of the Night Court. I’m his Spymaster. I have spying to do.” His lips twitch as if he’s trying to not let the easy smile fall from his face as he continues dressing. He watches for my reaction intently.

The blood in my veins turns to ice, freezing my heart in place as my eyes shoot open in shock. 

Azriel’s brother Rhys is... Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. All sleep leaves my body, and I have to fight to stay still. Every instinct is screaming at me to run, run far and fast. 

Because Rhysand knows my father, seeing as he’s High Lord of the Autumn Court.

In fact, I know Beron has met Rhysand many times. He often spoke about the half breed bastard who challenged his authority at meetings.

I met Rhysand at Beron’s court once, when I was barely fifteen. It's been decades, but he could easily recognize me as Beron’s bastard daughter. And he could tell my father where I am, maybe even deliver me to him. 

Even if he doesn’t recognize me, grown and changed as I am, Rhysand is a Daemati. He could rip the truth from my own mind with hardly a thought. And the High Lord of the Night Court has a reputation for finding pleasure in that sort of thing. The thought has me shivering despite the warm blankets tucked around me. 

“Oh. You didn’t mention that last night.” I rasp, trying not to look like I’m about to throw up. My stomach roils, and my palms dampen with cold sweat. 

“I forget that he's High Lord sometimes. He’s just Rhys to me.” Azriel shrugs, with his back now turned to me as he readies himself for the day. I thank the Cauldron for it. 

I can only imagine the stark horror in my expression, and I take a few extra moments to reign my emotions in. Gods, no wonder Azriel can read me so effortlessly. It's not only because of the bond, he’s a spymaster. Reading people is his job. A job he performs for a mind stealing, murdering monster of a High Lord. Bile rises in my throat, and I feel my heart crack in my chest. 

Azriel is not who I thought he was. The trustworthy, gentle male I spent the night with could just be another mask he wears. A tremble begins deep within me.

“When will you be back?” I try to sound eager, like I can’t wait for his return. 

In reality, I’m trying to find out how far away I can get before he even realizes I’m gone. 

“Tonight. I just need to visit some - colleagues in another court.” He says, while lacing his sturdy looking boots into place. 

What court is he ‘visiting’? Will he be spying on other High Lords for Rhysand? Despite the new revelations about his dangerous brother, I feel a stab of fear for my mate. Any High Lord would slaughter him in a moment if they caught him spying on the Daemati’s behalf. 

“Will you be safe?” I hear the worry in my own voice, and Azriel either hears it as well or can feel it from me. Damn mate bond. 

The male perches on the bed next to me, a reassuring smile on his striking face. The two versions of him that exist in my head clash terribly; the vulnerable, kind Azriel of last night and the formidable Spymaster I’ve heard grave stories about. My gaze falls to the dark dagger strapped to his leg. Truth Teller. I try not to shiver as the light glints lethally off its razored edge. I wonder how many truths he’s tortured out of his enemies using it. 

“Of course. Always, but especially now.” Azriel strokes stray curls out of my face, his eyes brimming with unabashed tenderness. He kisses me soundly, a promise to return. 

My stomach flips and suddenly my heart is no longer racing out of fear. For a moment, I almost forget the hidden lethalness and only see Az. But that’s foolish. I can’t shiver at the sight of his famed blade and crave his touch at the same time. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” I ask, mentally calculating how long I have to leave Velaris. I go through the well rehearsed steps of my escape plan, focusing on mundane details to keep the fear and longing from rendering me completely useless.

“Of course.” Shadows of worry cloud his eyes, and I can almost see the sharp, spy's mind calculating behind them.

Azriel kisses me once more, his lips hesitant for the very first time.

His mouth tastes like sorrow, and I feel a flicker of something down the bond. It's gone too quickly for me to decipher it. I curse internally, hoping he only thinks I’m intimidated by his brother’s position. Between the bond and his spymaster abilities, who knows what he can decipher from my reaction alone.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He stands, tucking his wings in close and letting his shoulders droop slightly. 

He searches my face, lips slightly turned down at the corners, brow furrowed. 

“I’ll be here.” The lie burns my throat like acid, and I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

Instead, I pretend to settle deeper into the bed, closing my eyes as I bring the blankets up to my chin. I don’t want to see the confusion and worry in his gaze. And I can’t watch him leave, knowing that I may never see him again. Azriel squeezes my thigh softly, whispering another farewell as he leaves the room with a sigh. 

I wait until I no longer feel the thrumming current that is Azriel’s presence,  when I know he’s well and truly gone. Then I spring into action. I burst from the bed, and head straight for Azriel’s dresser. I yank a pair of sweats from the drawer and pull them on hurriedly, shaking so hard it takes me three tries to get my legs through the correct hole.  I practically run through the living room, propelled forwards by thoughts of obliterated minds and the dank cells beneath the Autumn Court. 

I glimpse the forgotten mugs and pastry box from last night on the coffee table. Tears prick my eyes at the memory of the hope I felt during that meal. I told Azriel, my mate, more than I’ve shared with anyone in years. He let me see some of the anguish he carries with him, buried so deep it's become a part of him. I gave my body to him. And he felt like home. Can I really run from that?

Yes, I can. I have to. I was a fool to think that I could ever be outside my father’s reach.

On impulse, I hunt down a pen from the kitchen cabinets and scrawl a quick, cowardly note on a scrap of paper. Shame coats my tongue so thoroughly I think I may choke on it.

I’m sorry. - S 

  With the note finished, I raise the hood to conceal my face and tear down the stairs, avoiding the elevator Azriel first kissed me in. Soon enough, my bare feet are slapping against the rain slick pavement, my heart cracking with every step. I don’t stop to notice the people that watch me fly by, or the sun shining over the Sidra. I let the fear cloud every guilty thought, until all I know is adrenaline. 

Once I reach my apartment, I change into clothes more appropriate for an escape attempt, and collect my emergency bag from beneath some loose floorboards. Not the most creative hiding spot, but it’s better than my underwear drawer. 

Less than an hour later, I’m standing on the rickety, wooden deck of a foreign boat, sailing away from Velaris. Tradesmen man their vessel, hardly paying attention to me as I stare out over the water from their starboard side. I can imagine the mystery I pose. A lone, cloaked female, begging to stow away on their watercraft.

The money I slipped to their captain keeps the curious glances to a minimum, and I hope it keeps their mouths shut in the future. Either way, I won’t be settling where I first disembark. I’m not entirely sure where I’ll go yet, but maybe that’s for the best. If I’m entirely impulsive, my actions will be harder to predict.

I’ve run scared so many times over the years that I’ve lost count, but I’ve never been so conflicted. Every mile I put between me and the shore of the Sidra is another knife shoved up under my ribs, and it becomes harder and harder to breath. Eventually, the vibrant colors of the Rainbow fade from view and the citrus scent of the river becomes the salty brine of the ocean. Hot tears sting my eyes, and I let them fall. The hood of my cloak covers my face anyway. 

“Goodbye, Az.” 

#Azriel #azrielfanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotarsmut #fanfiction #Feysand #nesta archeron #archeron sisters #nessian #fluff #Smut #angst #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #elriel #The Night Court #autumn court #velaris

[silverhandsass]

My Beloved Intended (Part 9)

As Valerie's concerns eat away at her, she devises a plan and breaks the rules. Johnny faces a pleasant surprise.

(Regency AU | V / Johnny)

All current chapters available on - Ao3

— — — — —

For every single day they spent apart, Valerie couldn't help but worry. The roses in her room lasted only a little while before they slowly began to wilt. She made sure to take the one she'd worn in her hair and press it in a book. The rest simply faded day by day, reminding her that more time had passed since their last meet and that the wedding day grew ever closer. It was certainly bittersweet.

When they had just over a week remaining, Valerie began to hatch a plan. It all started with a letter to Lady Palmer, asking her for a favor. When getting the response she was hoping for, she had another letter sent. She had one of her maids send a letter to Mary, giving her specific instructions. That threw her nerves into a mix once more for the entire day as she waited for a response.

Later in the evening, a message was delivered in form of a small letter. Valerie took it to her room, stood by the fire and opened it. 'Tomorrow,' it said. Valerie smiled brightly and tossed the letter into the fire. She waited until every inch of it turned black before walking off.

—

The next morning, Valerie had spoken to her mother that she was to visit Lady Palmer. Her friend had sent an invitation for Val so that they may enjoy one final visit before her wedding. Her mother was pleased enough with the reason and had offered to join her, but Valerie insisted that it was not necessary.

It was truly not necessary.

As she hopped into Panam's carriage, she greeted her dear friend as they gave each other a knowing smile. "Are you ready?" She asked Val.

"Extremely. I'm... Rather anxious," Val admitted.

"You've damned the rules yet again," Panam grinned. "I admire your courage."

"It's less about courage and more about impatience," Val sighed, glancing out the window.

"I'd say you look downright concerned," she observed. "When I'd read your letter I could hardly believe it. Here I thought you were just another puppet, whisked away by a no-good worm of a man that would seek to domesticate you and hurt you 'til the end of your days."

Valerie paused. "Thank you?"

Panam laughed. "I mean to say I was wrong about you, and glad for it. You might be one of the only people who truly understands me and my distaste for the lives we lead. The others of the same mind are my servants. They ought to be my peers. When you told me you needed my help getting to Hartwell Inn in country hills, my day finally burned with excitement."

"You have not told anyone, have you?" Val asked, fiddling with the embroidery on her dress.

"Of course not. Do you think I would endanger such a deliciously devious event?" Pan asked, then chuckled at the look Val gave her. "My dear friend, you've entrusted me with this secret of yours, I would be but a charlatan to endanger you in any way. Besides, anyone that dares move against the world that has deemed us nothing better than accessories to a man's arm, they'd have my full support."

"Why had we not met any sooner, Lady Palmer?" Valerie smiled, taking her hand.

"If you call me that one more time, Valerie, I shall make you walk beside the carriage all the way."

—

By the time they had arrived at the Inn, the sun had all but vanished. The skies were pale and packed with clouds, and what simply was a faint drizzle had become a persistent downpour.

"Remember," Panam spoke a little loudly. "I shall retrieve you shortly after sundown if we are to get you home on time."

"You are a dear friend, Pan. I am in your debt for this—"

"No need to worry about that now, you must go!" She gestured to the door.

Val gave her a tight hug before exiting the carriage. Perhaps she should have thought about bringing an umbrella, though she did not expect such heavy rain. Thankfully, the path to the inn was not too far and she still had her hooded cloak. She rushed into the establishment, asking for the reservation.

Rose, they had agreed, was the name they'd sign it under. Much to her relief, there was already a room signed to that name. After being directed to the room, Valerie stood there, alone, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves. She had never, not once in her life, done anything of the sort. The study and Calhoun's were entirely different, as they were both within reach and easy to get to. This... This was deviation of a new sort and it scared her, but also excited her.

Knocking on the door, she opened it and walked in. The room itself was rather lovely and not too spacious. To the left was a fireplace that was fronted by a couch. To the right was the bed, rather large and covered in the fluffiest pillows and accompanied by two nightstands. Ahead of her, by an open window, stood the true treasure of the room; man she had been looking for. Turning around, Johnny saw her and smiled brightly.

He stood beside a table by the window, his hand resting gently against the back of a chair. The moment he saw her, he began to approach her. Val swung the door shut behind her and moved to close the gap between them.

The pair wrapped themselves around each other in a warm embrace, sighing in relief. For a moment, as they pulled away, they simply looked each other in the eye. A small smile here, a thumb's caress there, and Valerie found herself kissing him yet again. She could have melted in his embrace, her lips moving so passionately against his. He tasted of tea and berries, smelled of a warm hearth and pine, and felt like home.

Just as she held onto him so fervently, as her kisses grew urgent, he pulled away. His chest heaved as he worked to steady his breathing. "Wait," he whispered and held onto her still, brushing a lock of loose hair from her face. "I just... I want to see you. Speak with you."

Hearing those words, Valerie smiled warmly. "I do too."

"Or perhaps I should get you something dry to wear," he chuckled, pulled away to look at her fully. "What—did you swim here?"

"Hmm, very funny," she smiled.

"Well, no matter. This should be fine," Johnny said, moving to the table. He began to pick up the cups, dishes, whatever had been set out for them, moving it to the smaller table in front of the couch.

"What... are you doing?" Valerie asked him.

"The fire isn't going to come to us. You need to stay warm, dry off," he explained as though it were obvious. The moment Valerie tried to help, he frowned and pointed at the couch. "Sit." Once he was done moving everything over, he joined her, pouring her some tea and presenting her bowls of berries and cream. "It was clever, sending the letter through Mary."

"I'm glad it reached you well. I... needed to see you. Since we won't be having any gatherings before the wedding," she explained, picking up her cup.

"But my dear, it is terribly bad luck to see one another before the wedding," he chuckled.

"To hell with luck, we've been making our own rules from the start," she said, taking a sip and putting her cup down.

Johnny smiled at her and reached for her hand. "Thank you for meeting with me here."

"I needed to know you were alright," she replied, holding his hand with both of hers now.

"I am. So close to the wedding, it's... I've been keeping my nose out of trouble," he sighed.

"But my lord, that's where it belongs," she smirked, raising a brow.

"Truly heartbreaking, I know," he chuckled, placing a hand over his heart.

Valerie laughed. "Are you excited?"

"To get into trouble?" He asked.

"I was going to say about getting married but that bears the same meaning," Valerie joked.

Johnny let out a hearty laugh. "If it means more of that humor at my side, then yes, truly I am." That made Valerie smile and bite her lip a moment. His gaze lingered on those lips before he turned his attention to his tea. "So... About that kiss."

"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I was simply so relieved to see you were here and doing alright, and then it just... happened."

"I do not regret it." He put his cup back into place. "My only contemplation is... Well, I mean, you were in love with him, Val." That smile of hers finally faded. "I just wanted to make sure that you knew what you wanted."

Valerie's eyes lingered on the fire a moment. "You know, for a long time, I did love him. I mean, he did make me happy. But ever since it all ended, I've had time to think and to see it for what it truly was. I was happy, but... It wasn't real. It doesn't feel real. Jeffrey... my first love? That was real. His promise, his intentions... But with Laurence..."

She took a breath, leaning back into the seat. "We'd meet at the same place, we'd make love, we'd talk, and I’d leave. Make love, talk, leave, over and over again. On occasion, he'd paint or draw me, though it was mostly sketches on paper that I now realize was probably not to waste any paint..." Valerie rolled her eyes. "But it was... meaningless. I was finding an escape through him and I thought it to be love, but... then I had some time to think. About love. About what it was."

"And did you find an answer to it? That very question ails many a man," Johnny raised a brow at her.

"It ails women too, believe me," Val laughed, looking at him. "All this time, I'd been looking for a husband. One man to spend the rest of my life with, to get to know him a little before marriage and to then learn more about one another and go through all of life's hardships together, as well as everything good that came with it."

She paused to pick up a berry, popping it into her mouth while she collected her thoughts. "I did not realize, in our arrangement, when we set aside those expectations from one another, we became friends. I enjoyed our company more than I've enjoyed any other in a long time. I've wanted to strangle you, to embrace you, to laugh with you, cry with you... I began to yearn for you even though we were already to be married."

Valerie decided to wait a moment, wanting to give him the chance to speak by going for her tea and taking a long sip. He did not speak, instead he sat there beside her, his breath slightly quickened and his gaze focused solely on her. "I hope that does not bother you," she began, "that I feel this way. I know it was not our agreement and I understand if you wish to remain... free..."

"Free?" He repeated immediately. "My dear, I have not known freedom, not truly, not until I met you."

Valerie froze.

Johnny got off his seat so that he could kneel in front of her and take her hands in his. "I thought freedom meant leaving my home whenever I wanted, filling my nights with inebriation and meaningless companionship. I've always been angry at many things in my life, at the injustice, mainly... but you... Oh, my dear, you've made me furious," he squeezed her hands with a cheeky smile. "You've made me feel so much more, and you've made me remember what freedom truly meant."

He took a breath, almost studying her gaze. His thumbs brushed over the back of her hands in soft, caring circles. "In the gardens, you asked me if I wanted to be free of you—love, I am free because of you. To know that in a week, we would be walking out into the world as one... It gives me hope."

"You said love," she breathed.

"What?"

"You called me love," she clarified.

He did not break eye contact with her. "I have never lied to you, I see no point in starting now."

Without warning, Valerie leaned in to kiss him—so hard, in fact, that she stumbled forward on top of him and tackled him into the ground. The pair of them laughed, a little winded by the impact. Seeing her above him, her golden hair curtained around their faces, he could not help but kiss her again, propping himself up on his elbows.

In their kiss, Valerie felt herself pulled into their passion, absentmindedly grinding her hips against his. The sound that he made was one she had never heard before from any man. It was enough to send her cheeks burning pink and her core flaming in arousal. He sat up with such strength that it pushed her onto his lap, before he moved to have them both stand.

He pulled her tightly against his body, simply holding her there. "Are you sure you want this? Here, now, with me?"

Val pushed herself up. "Yes," she kissed him, "Yes," another kiss, "and yes," she finished with a final kiss. That seemed to be enough to make him smile and embrace her. His hands rushed to her back to attempt to undo her corset, finding no strings or anything of the sort. Valerie pushed him away slightly and shook her head as she pointed down her front. Her bodice had been made with simple clasps hidden in floral embroidery along the front. When he looked at her quizzically, with a hint of excitement, she gave him a cheeky smile. "You did mention a simpler corset..."

Laughing at her comment, his lips crashed into hers and his hands fumbled with the clasps, undoing them so easily. With slow movements, he hooked the neckline of her dress and slowly pulled it down, his thumbs running over the sides of her ribs as he did so. The dress pooled around her feet, leaving her in only the thin, silken gown. Val's hands traveled down his chest and to his pants, finding her way around the buckles to give it a sharp tug. Then another. One more.

It wasn't coming loose.

The pair of them burst into laughter, Johnny's head falling into her shoulder a moment. "And you were complaining about my corset..." Val laughed, trying to give his pants a few more tugs but giving in to the laughter instead. Through their giggles, Johnny took her hands in his, leading them to where they were meant to go and showing her how to unlatch his pants.

One they were off, he had his forehead leaning against hers as he kicked them off to the side. Valerie moved her hands up to pull apart his shirt, resting the palms of her hands against his bare chest.

"Where else would you like to lead them?" she whispered to him, a delicious invitation.

There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught onto her meaning, his hands wrapping around her's once more. Without looking away, he slowly led one down his chest, across his abdomen and lower until it rested along his length. Val's mouth ran dry at the feeling of him beneath her touch. The moment she stroked him nice and slow, his hands moved to her arms. He let out yet another sigh of relief, his hips grinding into her palm.

Her fingers wrapped around him, doing what she knew how to do and caressing him—all the while watching every little way his expression would change based on where she'd touch. She could feel herself growing slicker and hotter just looking at him.

A few moments longer of this had him grasping onto the gown, tugging it up, up, up, until it was well over her head and off of her. She could have sworn that he staggered slightly, his eyes lazily dragging over every inch of her body. His hands were instantly cupping her ass, pulling at her in such a way that it hoisted her up. His hands slid down her thighs in time with her arms wrapping around him. Val let out a small yelp as she felt him carry her, her little shriek morphing into giggles.

She exclaimed in surprise yet again when he dropped her onto the bed, following her right after. There, nestled between her legs, he hovered above her and grinned. They had sunk into the soft mattress slightly, and she looked positively angelic to him in that moment.

"My dear, you look ravishing," he whispered to her, his face mere inches away from hers.

Her hand gracing his cheek was far too sweet a gesture for the words that came out of her mouth. "Then ravish me."

He could not have had a more enticing invitation, as his lips found hers without hesitation. His tongue danced against hers, exploring her and tasting her, before he trailed it along her jaw and across her neck. "As you wish," he mumbled against a breast before lowering even further to take a nipple into his mouth. Her back arched and her eyes closed slowly, a drawn out moan ringing out from her.

It was the first moan of pleasure he had ever heard from her, and it was music to his ears. Had he known she sounded so sweet, he would have fought harder to win her heart weeks ago. Sucking onto her breast, he ran the broad side of his tongue over the sensitive nub before moving slowly to the other, giving it a bit of attention. His hand took place where his mouth was previously, massaging her with care.

Valerie was moving and rocking beneath him, her body aching to continue to be touched. It was clear to him just how familiar she was to the world of pleasure, but there was one thing he wanted to do most with her—one thing he knew she might appreciate. He slowly began to move even further, losing himself into her sweet scent as he kissed her belly. He took a deep breath through the nose, nearly sinking into the bed and melting.

She had pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch him, her anticipation building so intensely she might combust. She watched as his arms hooked beneath her legs and his hands rested flat on her belly, and then her heart stopped. From just above the apex between her legs, he looked up at her and smiled.

"I should like to see you this way every morning, my dear," he muttered to her.

Valerie bit her lip so hard she might have started tasting iron. Her face was surely redder than it had ever been. She ran her fingers through her hair to get it all out of her face, finding it a mistake to do so as it was right when Johnny's lips met her clit. Losing her balance, she slipped and landed back into the bad, letting out a sharp gasp.

His slick, hot tongue stroked along the bundle of nerves without warning, flicking against it a few times before he pulled away with a suckle. Her hips tried to push and pull, to sway into his touch but he held her firmly against the bed by the abdomen. He then dragged his tongue from the edge of her entrance and up to the top, teasing her clit once again. He ran it along this way once more, and again, before sending his tongue as deep into her as it could go. He pulled away with a gasp as one would after taking a deep drink, hissing something about how delicious she was.

Valerie could have died right then and she would not have cared.

Her hands grasped tightly into the sheets as she moaned, unsure as to how long her eyes had remained closed. His tongue moved up to her clit again, giving her some long and painfully slow strokes. She had barely noticed the absence of one of his hands upon her belly, as she started to feel something teasing at her entrance. Val dared to glance down, seeing how his arm flexed and his muscles tightened to hold her down while his other hand had positioned itself below his jaw. A moment later, she felt his finger push into her.

Valerie cursed into the air, unsure as to whether it was the waves of pleasure or the mere sight of him tasting her so thoroughly that aroused her so heavily. He seemed so lost in it, as though it was the only thing that mattered and nothing else. Suddenly, a second finger went into her just in time for his tongue to move mercilessly against her. Her head thrust backward again as her back pushed up. The hand at her abdomen was now holding onto her thigh to keep her legs spread, a moment that was almost second nature to the man. His fingers hooked inside her, pushing up against her nerves and tugging at them relentlessly.

Feeling those intense waves of pleasure building within her, she reached down with a hand, tangling her fingers into his hair as she called out his name. His fingers thrust into her faster, his tongue worked harder, and he held onto her tighter just as her hips ground with each wave. When the climax finally hit her, her moans came out in shudders, more composed of heavy gasping and chest heaving than an actual moan. In that moment, every single inch of her body responded to Johnny, as though he had full control.

He continued to caress her, both inside and out, his touch slowing down gradually alongside her ecstasy. The moment her body lowered to the bed and her grasp loosened, he pulled away from her with a kiss and placed one more along the inside of the thigh he held. He let out a hum of satisfaction, slowly crawling his way up. She lay beneath him, panting heavily and her cheeks painted a deep red. The moment he was in reach, he leaned in to kiss her, hearing her muffled, tired moans against his lips.

Then, much to his surprise, she was motioning for him to pull away. She guided him onto his back and he began to realize what she wanted, and the thought made his cock throb with anticipation. Valerie laid down alongside him, her arms keeping her face propped just over his arousal while she lay on her side. Slowly, a little nervously, she took him in her hand and heard him gasp. Val looked over to him, not realizing just what an image she was creating for him as she brought his tip to her lips while looking him in the eye.

His breathing faltered severely, as did his composure. By God, if he did not spend the rest of his days making this woman happy, he would deserve every bit of the nasty fate he'd receive.

He had told her that what one would do to a man was more of the same as what a woman would receive, so she tried to follow that notion. Which was why Valerie ran her tongue from the underside of the head and over the top before taking him into her mouth again. That seemed to do the trick just well enough as it sent Johnny sinking back into the bed. His jaw worked as he tried to reach forward, deciding on grasping the covers beneath them instead. She was thankful, as his knuckles turned white from the tightness.

She continued to run her tongue over him, finding that the more places she licked him, the more reactions she'd get out of him. God, she'd never heard such soft, quiet moans from a man—it pleased her to know he was enjoying what she did, so she continued. When she pulled away for air, she stroked him with her hand, watching as he bit his lower lip and furrowed his brows, that little crease forming in between.

Seeing as how he was slick from her tongue, she gave it a try. She moved her lips to the head once more, swirling her tongue over the sensitive tip before slowly taking his length into her mouth. That caused him to moan a little louder, whispering words of encouragement to her. She pulled out slowly, tasted him once more, and then took him in even deeper. She continued this way, nice and slow, exploring him, finding out what made him tick, listening to him.

She soon felt his hand caressing the side of her body, finding its way between her legs. His fingers slipped between her folds, making her moan around his cock. She pulled away with a suckle, watching him slightly twitch at the sensation, so she tried it again. It was all the more alluring when feeling him touch her ever so slowly, that intoxicating pleasure building within her again. Just as she began to feel determined to have him find his release, she felt him begin to motion her to get up.

"Not so soon," he whispered. "I want to be with you."

Val licked her lips, seeing his eyes immediately drawn to the motion. He moved in to kiss her, taking over in that prospect with a sense of hunger he had never shown before. Moments later, he had led her onto her back once more and had mounted himself above her. His hands were constantly upon her in the gentlest touches he could muster. Beyond giving her pleasure, it was to move her hair out of her face or simply stroke it, or entwine his fingers in hers—simple little things.

She had never taken her time this way while making love.

Perhaps she had never properly made love before.

Her belly grew aflutter at the thought.

She felt him grind his cock against her slowly with such patient motions, she was sure it must have been killing him. It certainly was killing her. It made Val pull away from the kiss with a sharp nibble. "Johnny. Take me."

"Where would you like me to take you, my dear?" he whispered, running his tongue along her neck, making her whimper.

"To heaven, to the bloody moon," she whispered, "I want you, darling."

"Where do you want me," he demanded, teeth grazing at the skin above her breast.

"Johnny..." She begged breathlessly, "I want you inside me."

"And I want you around me," he replied, moving to kiss her as his hand guided his tip to her entrance. Looking her in the eyes, he drove himself into her slowly.

The pair of them gasped at the sensation, holding onto each other tightly as they adjusted for a moment, before Val wrapped her legs around him impatiently. Johnny moved to kiss her, losing himself in realization that they both tasted of each other. His hips rolled forward and he thrust himself into her, deep, deep, deep. The moment he pulled out of her, he could not wait to thrust himself back in, finding himself in a steady rhythm.

Val's hips moved on their own accord, wanting to take him in with each thrust as she moaned into the kiss. A moment later, Johnny pulled back from the kiss just long enough to bring his fingers to his lips—the fingers he had moved inside her. He took them ever so slightly into his mouth before leading them down to her clit. Val watched this with slightly parted lips, panting and moaning at what she felt only to feel like she was losing herself in pleasure once more.

With him thrusting inside her with such intensity, and his fingers working at her most sensitive spot, it did not take long for her to find her release again. As her insides tightened around him, it had him dipping his head into her shoulder, cursing and moaning at once. Val's fingers had just begun to dig into his skin at his shoulders when realization struck her. She moved her hands to his hair and the base of his neck instead, fingers wrapping tightly around his lush, black locks.

Tugging at his hair in such a manner tilted his head back and it seemed to do all the right things to him. He looked down at her, his eyes piercing into hers. She could feel it now. One hand moved to her thigh to keep her stable, the other had been looped beneath her shoulder, holding onto the bed by the sheets—tightly. His hips thrust into her faster, with more urgent strokes, and his moans began to grow a bit more vocal.

In the few seconds building up to his peak, his hand moved from the sheets to the back of her head, his muscles tensed and he pulled at her by the hip. Johnny buried himself inside her as deep as he could go, calling out to her as he felt a powerful orgasm pulsate through him. Moving once, twice more into her, he remained still, breathing heavily while feeling her hands moving from hair to cheek to shoulder.

Their moans sounded together, their breathing shared and their bodies entwined ever so tightly. Johnny felt himself nearly collapse onto her, holding onto his remaining strength by a slim thread. The second he had the willpower, he gave her one more lingering kiss before pulling out of her.

He dropped into the bed just beside her and Val moved to immediately rest against him, the pair of them still trying hard to catch their breath. His arms were immediately around her, hands brushing her hair back and caressing her body, keeping her close. Her hand laid splayed across his chest, holding onto him a moment before it went up to his jaw. Her fingers traced along through his beard until her palm cupped his cheek.

The same cheek that very hand had struck once. Something she wasn't sure she'd forget, nor forgive—both of which he had already done.

She glanced up at him and Johnny returned the gaze. The two of them said nothing, but they held each other close. They knew very well what this entailed, what this meant for them. They knew all too well, the words that did not need to be spoken between them just yet. It only made them all the more certain about the days to come. Certain about the single, most important truth about it all.

They were never to feel alone again.

#It is almost the end! #Also #it's burned #romance #smut #fluff #Johnny Silverhand #V / Johnny Silverhand #Cyberpunk 2077 #Regency AU #my fics #valerie rose palencia

[3laxx]

Wind Chapter 14

Post fight care

Whaddup suckers!! Back with a new chap! Some self indulgent DJWifi, I hope that's okay with you xD But I really need to get back into writing and these two dorks are actually helping me massively, so, bear with me here xD Anyway! I'm updating, surprisingly so! That was a damn fast year, happy Halloween 2020 and shiz lololol Enjoy!

Ao3 / FF.net

“Oh my god, Nino, I was worried sick!! Where did you go during the fight?!”, he squinted his eyes at Alya’s reaction while Master Fu was busy removing the bandage around the hand that didn’t hold his phone.

“… I, uh-… I ran away, Alya. I was scared.”

“You could’ve just told me that, I would’ve turned around with you!”, she yelled now, making Master Fu smirk silently. The deadpan Nino sent through the silent line was enough to make Alya visibly roll her eyes, “… Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have turned around with you. But I at least would’ve liked to know before you bolted.”

He just sighed, nodding gratefully at Master Fu who now started rolling up the bandage, revealing healed skin.

“I’m sorry, Alya.”, he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to leave you behind like this. The car came flying and I just-… Wanted to get away.”

His own lie made him cringe as it was now his girlfriend’s turn to sigh. He wished he could tell her why he ran away, and he really didn’t want to take the role of a scaredy-cat now, that he had a secret identity to keep. A second life in which he was needed to be courageous. He already saw it coming how the acting would fuck with his head.

But she didn’t seem to catch on, much to his relief. Master Fu had told him about the magic keeping the veil over their secret identity, so nobody could actually tell. Actually, Alya went quiet for a while, giving him the chance to warm up a little by drinking a bit of his tea, while waiting for her to speak up again.

“… Was it because of that panic attack?”, she asked slowly, and immediately made him feel guilty again for leaving her behind like this.

But he had a secret to keep from her now. He had a responsibility now, a second life, and he had to keep it from her at all costs. Not to endanger her or his family. Or his friends’ lives again. Especially Adrien’s life. Hawkmoth couldn’t know another one in the class of his son was a superhero. The connection was too obvious.

“… Nino?”, she tried again and he snapped out of it.

“Y-Yeah. Because of the panic attack.”

Again, silence filled their call and he shared a glance with Master Fu, feeling entirely uncomfortable in his skin. He had to make her believe it had been because of the panic attack, otherwise she wouldn’t get off his tail. Nothing against Alya, but even regarding her loved ones, her reporter curiosity sometimes got the best of her.

“Are you home?”, she asked now and he squirmed under the raw worry in her voice, feeling that she was ready to put on her jacket and go to him.

“Uhm. Yeah. I’m home. Wanna meet?”, Master Fu looked up to him and squinted his eyes, making Nino helplessly shrug.

“I’ll be right there!”, she sounded relieved, so relieved he wanted to cry.

“O-Okay, see you in 15.”, his reply already got swallowed in the final beeping sound, signaling him she had hung up, probably to hurry over to him. With hunched over shoulders he finally met Master Fu’s gaze and gulped, seeing the old man huffing at his rash response.

“You’ll need to hurry, young Nino.”

The boy sighed in exasperation and nodded, trying to get up but finding himself unable to at first. It needed a helping hand from his master and a bit of work to get to his feet, making him groan.

“I’m sorry, Master Fu… But she would’ve been suspicious if I hadn’t been home.”

The old man just nodded at that, completely understanding, but Nino could tell he was not exactly happy about letting his student go that quickly after his first Akuma attack, especially when being in a hurry.

“Yes, I understand. She is worried, she wants to make sure you are fine. But what are you going to tell her about this?”, he gestured to Nino’s blue jaw, making the boy flinch.

“W-Well… I fell over some street barriers? Or some stairs while looking back?”

He thought he could see a slight smirk on the old man’s face before he turned his back to him, to put back the bandage from where he had taken it.

“I see, your lies are about as much believable as Ladybug’s.”

Nino rolled his eyes to that but nodded, humming.

“Yeah, yeah, just laugh about me. Wayzz, Shields up!”, with a flash of green he transformed and groaned at the shield resting on one of his many bruises. The master just sent him a smirk, before pushing a tiny tube into his hand.

“This one will help with the bruising. And tell Chat Noir that you will need to learn how to cushion a fall and absorb a hit. Alright?”

Carapace nodded, waving at Master Fu with the small tube, then he jumped out of the back window, quickly getting onto the roofs and running back home. On his way he passed Alya, who thankfully didn’t look up and was a good ten minutes away from his home still, so he went ahead, transformed back in a hidden doorway, only to “arrive home” for his parents.

Luckily, they didn’t question why he was already back home, since they had heard of the Akuma attack earlier today, and he managed to get to his room relatively quickly, so his mom wouldn’t see his jaw. With a relieved sigh, he closed the door behind him, then he gave Wayzz a small bowl of sunflower seeds which he hid behind some books in his cupboard, as the doorbell already sounded through the apartment. Alya was here.

With a grimace he sat down on his desk chair, pretending to be on the computer, and to be out of direct view from his door, then he waited for his mother to call him and let him reply to just send Alya to his room.

Luckily, just a few seconds later, Alya entered the room without his mother, mindfully closing the door behind her, only then Nino dared to turn around and immediately shush her before she would react loudly.

Alya, being the quick thinker, only lifted her hands to her mouth, then she crossed the room and gingerly took his face between her hands, cupping his jaw so softly he almost didn’t feel it.

“Oh gosh Nino…”, she exhaled, and he already saw her eyes getting a little wet at his condition.

“D-Don’t worry.”, he tried with an apologetic smile, “It’s just a bruise. In two days, it’ll be gone. Just, uh, mom doesn’t know about this and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Alya scrunched her eyebrows together but decided to say nothing as of now, just inspecting his jaw and swallowing back her tears, then she squinted her eyes at him.

“… What happened?”, her voice was dangerous.

“U-Uh, I tripped. When I ran away. It’s okay though, really.”, he tried, not really keeping his voice stable enough for his taste, but for her it seemed to be enough. He gulped inconspicuously as she turned away, running her hands through her hair.

“God, Nino, what am I supposed to do with you?”, she groaned so he not really quickly got up and pouted at her when he grabbed her hips, turning her back to him to catch her eyes.

“Well… Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t exactly keep me from tripping… And, I mean, shouldn’t you be happy you don’t have to worry about a plus one in a fight?”

His attempt at a smile was quickly overshadowed by her devastating deadpan, so he already shrunk together at the scolding he’d get from her, but instead she just deflated, resting her shaking head against his chest and lifting her hands beside it, brushing over his shirt.

“… Just look out where you’re going…”, she pleaded, and he earned her rolling her eyes when he made a joke. “You really wanted to blame me for falling over a couple of stairs just now?”

She gruffly pushed against him but made sure to keep close, still leaning her head against his chest.

“Don’t test it, Lahiffe. Just don’t test it.”

He laughed and kissed her head as she mumbled the same question as before, wondering what she should do with him, then he nudged her forehead.

“You could kiss me?”, he suggested as she leant back to look up to him, already grinning painfully at the little smirk on her lips. She gave up on pretending to still be angry, he felt it, and gave him a tiny peck on the cheek, being well aware of his bruise not to pain him any more than necessary.

“That’ll have to do for now. Let’s get on the bed.”

He suggestively waggled his eyebrows which just earned him a look, then he lied down and offered to cuddle with her, which she accepted in relief.

Softly, Alya’s weight pushed down the mattress beside his hips, then he felt her lying down on her side, resting her head on his shoulder and pulling her legs up, nudging him to rest his legs over hers.

“… That feels way better…”, he admitted, glad to be off his feet for today, and to be in a position that hurt considerably less than the hard mat on Master Fu’s floor.

“And now, the therapy session is a go.”, his girlfriend mumbled in his arms, closing her eyes while she yawned.

“Hm, you didn’t sleep as much. Say, what is keeping you up at night?”

He chuckled at the light pat on his chest that she gave him instead of another push, appreciating her being so soft right now.

“No, I mean, your therapy session. What was that about before the fight? That panic attack you had?”

He huffed and looked up to his ceiling, his eyes wandering over the remains of small plastic stars that he had stuck on the walls and ceiling as a little kid, which could glow in the dark.

“Eh… You know… Old memories.”, he replied vaguely and immediately felt her hand sliding up his chest to the point where Hawkmoth had stabbed him. It annoyed him to push that scar, that memory, back up in their heads and to repeatedly direct the talk to this topic, but he couldn’t help it. It was the perfect cover up for his secret identity and he needed her to believe he was becoming genuinely scared of Akumas now, to absolutely rule out any possibility of him being Carapace.

It was the easiest way, and he had the opportunity of pretending this trauma was the reason for him to stay away from fights.

Well, it wasn’t exactly untrue, he knew that. The panic attack had been real, and it had been based on that event, that much was true. Well, and the responsibility of having to fight his very first Akuma as a real team member and of course the crushing fear he’d felt of now having to be an actual part of the fight. It had been easy, watching and standing by the sidelines, cheering for his childhood heroes back then. And it had still been easy when they had grown up, coming to the mindset of carelessness, where he had the attitude of “Ladybug and Chat Noir will handle it anyway, what’s there to care about”.

It had of course changed when the Miraculous cure had gone missing along with Ladybug, when every damage had started to stay, and when he was suddenly forced to be in a lot more fights than he had felt comfortable with.

The Desertifier incident was a perfect example of that. He had finally felt, for the first time, how stressful it was to be in the middle of a fight, and he had finally understood how bad it had been for Ladybug and Chat Noir these past years, how hard these months alone had been on Chat, actually.

But he had still not been a prime target on the Akuma’s radar.

He had still been a harmless civilian, a wannabe hero, and most importantly, not a threat.

Now, with his suit, his shield and his new powers, he posed a threat in the Akumas’ eyes and he knew, now he was gonna be a target, worth the attention of a fighter, not a bystander.

Of course, this was scary.

Not that he could actually tell Alya that, of course. He’d have to explore the trauma idea more.

“… Does it still hurt sometimes…?”, she suddenly asked, her speech mumbled because her mouth was pressed against his shirt, her face squished against his chest. It was not at all what he had expected, hence he spluttered for an answer before trying to calm his beating heart at the sudden intimacy with which Alya talked to him about this.

She was normally not one to beat around the bush, he had gotten to know her as a very straight-forward girl and he knew she didn’t have a stick up her ass. Insults, slurs, lewd topics, even black or coarse humor wasn’t a problem for her. She wasn’t going to mince matters.

But being open about problems?

Actually, talking about stuff that weighed down on her, or telling people honestly that she didn’t feel good about a thing that happened, that was not her style. It was connected to a lot of effort for her to voice something like that so he naturally was a bit taken aback at her asking him that so openly. Especially since he sensed where the talk would go.

“… I-I mean-… Yeah, sometimes…? Like, when I think back at it, or have a nightmare about it… Or when I’m reminded of something similar… Then it kinda hurts. What about you?”

He gingerly touched her arm resting on his chest, over the multiple little cuts that still visibly stood against her brown skin with a faint, unnatural silver, as if they had just a few weeks ago. They both knew, even if they had healed off completely, that she would forever wear them as a reminder of the Cataclysm bursting through her skin, and he knew they still sometimes flared up, making her flinch, when she was too close to Chat’s magic.

Alya merely nuzzled close as a response to his question, humming in discomfort, making him cuddle her closer and almost pull his hand away from hers, just when he felt her holding onto his fingers.

“… Sometimes…”, she hesitantly spoke up, keeping her face hidden from him, not having to make eye contact. He knew she didn’t like that during the few real talks they had, “… I don’t wanna admit it… But maybe Plagg’s right about them being magical… Maybe I should see him about that again…”

Nino nodded and closed his eyes, to make her feel more at ease with him not pressuring her to look at him.

“… Maybe… Though, he did have the theory that Chat’s Cataclysm in that Observatory pulled out all the remaining magic. Since, it only adds up to destruction, doesn’t stop it.”

Alya huffed and nodded, then she pulled her hand out of his to wrap her arm around him, resting it over his stomach and holding him close.

“… Yeah, maybe… Oh well. Plagg said if I keep away from magic, I’ll be fine either way, so, even if there’s something left inside my body, I’ll be fine.”

With a heavy sigh he nodded at that, then he made eye contact with Wayzz in his bookshelf, pressing his lips together.

“… S-Sure… If you keep away from magic…”

He could only hope Plagg meant the black cat’s destructive magic. But he’d have to ask Master Fu about that.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfic #wind #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ladybug #chat noir #nino lahiffe #carapace #alya cesaire #master fu #wayzz #alyno #djwifi

[ac-ars]

Never had a thing for fairytales

all i can say is that this wasn’t meant to be posted lol

Never had a thing for fairytales

He creeps the shit out of her walking around the class quietly, yet still letting her know that he is moving and she doesn't even need to look at him. That's the safest option to stare at her paper despite the fact she isn't sure what to write, but as long as she's not looking up or checking how's everyone doing, she is safe from him paying attention to her.

He's been the most intimidating guy that has ever taught her anything; not even those old, respected professors, who's been working at uni for years and he isn't a real professor here yet. He is still studying physics, getting master's degree in teaching and he already freezes her blood being only few years older than she is.

The test is hell as always, every week, but Luna is already used to those even if she always is dying zombie, studying whole night before, not wanting to fail anything cause she would be majorly fucked. She looks at him from under her lashes when he is walking towards the desk, so she sees only his back. His hands are behind, his fingers laced and she can see he is playing with the weird ring he is always wearing, keeping her mind wondering whether he is married or not. She doesn’t really care, at all even, it’s just the fact that no one really knows anything about him, just his last name and the fact he is still studying. That’s all and Luna has always been curious person, so no one really should blame her here.

The end of her pen somehow ends up between her teeth, because this dumb question is too complicated for her to even understand, damn him, she studied for this, she knows this, yet the way he constructed the question makes her wants to throw up. He always wants to be sneaky, making different versions of the tests, changing the order of the exercises and all shit possible to let them do absolutely nothing but writing only stuff they have learned.

Luna is absolutely stressed even if the questions she answered and problems she solved are enough to pass, her grades are at good level, she isn’t really endangered specie here yet, but it’s still unsettling how he keeps walking around in his expensive shoes, tight, black pants and always white shirts. She doesn’t even want to know how many of them he possesses; the number would probably scare her away, very, very away. She has never seen him having his hands in the pockets, never laughing loudly or drinking, or eating, at this point she wonders if he is a fucking cyborg or maybe just some kinda creepy vampire and she ended up in weird twilight au, but it really doesn’t seem so.

He just probably is this kinda asshole who has nothing better to do than making student’s life worse and the fact that he has this perfectly shaped jaw and long legs doesn’t pull Luna’s mood up in any way.

Few seconds later he catches her staring and all of the blood leaves all parts of her head, just to end up focused on the cheeks, and yes she is here done, blushing, and he didn’t even open his mouth to tell some shit that will make everyone look at her like at a weirdo who dares to interrupt the test. The pen moves out automatically away from her face before Luna puts it on her paper and wants to put her eyes down as well, but they can’t leave his, staring at his cold brown look.

“Are you done yet?” He asks her, his voice stable, not blank at all, but it’s not changing any tone. Just few people look up to check what happened, who dared to do something earlier, to make Balsano think they are done before the time is up.

Luna just shakes her head, more like moves it to the sides softly, hoping it will be enough for him to leave her alone. One can wish. “Then do you have any question?” She repeats her earlier movement. He frowns softly, still keeping it cool though and Luna just wants to keep writing, to look down, but she really wants to not say a word and it means she has to keep her eyes on him.

“Are you feeling bad? Is your pen not working?” He throws possible reasons of her not solving her test right now and this is the worst, because Luna has like minus one excuses. He is looking at her all the time, expecting any kind of explanation, and here she is, deciding to probably commit suicide in his class. “No, everything is fine.”

Blessing her voice for not shaking, she just waits for him to say some nasty shit or whatever, he is a creep and he is capable of all shit as long as he won’t be sued for it. He crosses his arms with soft hum, one of his eyebrows is softly twitching, Luna wouldn’t notice it if it weren’t for her staring at him.

“Well, then, why aren’t you writing your test, Valente?” He asks eventually, apparently deciding to leave her alone, and bless the stars for that.

“I am, I was just thinking about this one question,” she says and he sighs dramatically. “I am very sorry to inform you, but the answer won’t appear on my face, so just focus on the test. All of you.”

Luna just wants to go home and die.

Her head hurts like bitch and that’s the first thing Luna can feel after she was drinking last night. Every single time she asks herself why is she like this, promises never doing it again and yet she always ends up dying of headache and confusion. Sunlight going through the curtains on the windows blinds her majorly and she just turns around and growls in the pillow.

Something is kinda wrong, because the smell isn’t right; it’s not her pillow definitely, it’s softer and definitely doesn’t have her floral pattern. Luna curses under her breath, of course she pulled this kind of shit, obviously, she wouldn’t be herself if she chilled the one time Pedro wasn’t there to drag her home.

She actually remembers talking so some guy, she remembers that he was hot as fuck and honestly nice so there’s not much damage done. The comforter is wrapped around her body and when she manages to open her eyes she sees it’s all white. The walls are white, and furniture is white, there are books on the shelves and there is this fancy, fancy desk, with laptop and a fuck ton of some weird papers on it. This is getting weirder and weirder honestly, she wants to walk around and see what kind of person she slept with last night, who left her alone in their bed, yet she decides that she should get up and try to not die of awkwardness.

The only thing Luna can put on is the black tshirt someone for sure put next to her on the bed. She throws away the comforter noticing this little hickey under her hip bone and she kinda blesses the fact it’s not on her neck or something. The fabric of the tshirt seems to be too thin and Luna feels a bit uncomfy in it, yet there is nothing else so the tshirt has to be.

There is a voice coming from the, as she guesses, kitchen, because as she leaves the bedroom she ends up in just as light living room, not letting herself stare around for now. Maybe if she gets lucky she will be able to do so later, but for now all Luna needs to do is find the guy, if she actually ended up with that guy.

The only opened door she can see is on the other side of the room and this seems like right door. Luna feels as if she is in this weird horror game, but the place doesn’t look like horrors do. She stops herself on the doorstep, kitchen doorstep and almost falls down, because the drunkest her always picks the hottest guys. She sees bare back facing her, few circle tattoos curling down his spine, another one going over his shoulder blade. His sweatpants are super low on his hips, very, very nice hips, and Luna has no idea what would have to have the front for her to not be dead.

She clears her throat for him to answer and may the lightning strike her in this very moment when he turns to her if she isn’t dreaming at this point, because her own asshole physics ta is apparently the one who left mark under her hip bone.

Smirk appears on his face, this kind of lazy smirk she would never expect him to have, yet at the same time it fits him incredibly much. “Sleeping beauty woke up, good morning.” He says before taking a sip from his cup and putting it on the counter. “Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?”

Luna is too shook to actually answer anything. She must have been drunk as fuck last night or he must have been impossibly charming, which she decided was because he was drunk as fuck too.

She opens her mouth barely, but no words leave her mouth when she remembers that she is wearing his tshirt and is completely naked underneath. Just after she thought so he carefully eyes her up and down, making her feel actually naked. What Luna tries to ignore is his chest and the fact he doesn’t seem to be any ashamed of standing like this in front of her.

“You know-” he starts, crossing his arms. “You were definitely more talkative with my head between your thighs.”

If she was lost, confused, dying even few seconds ago, now she definitely ended up in hell for cursing at his ass every single class and now it’s karma going back to her. Matteo smirks even more seeing her reaction and she really just wants to go home since it’s misfire of the century.

She clears her throat once again to say anything really, whatever.

“I don’t like coffee, so,” she mumbles and this must be enough for him for now.

He sighs and turns around to reach for another cup in the cupboard above him. Luna doesn’t make a step towards there, staying still in ‘her’ doorstep and hoping that if she stays there long enough he is gonna just disappear and she will wake up in her bed.

“Well then, tea it is, Valente.” He says, setting the water to heat.

“Luna.” She interrupts and he looks at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“I think that if we already reached the stage when you have had your head between my thighs, you can use my name. At least now until I leave.” Luna crosses her arms, glaring at him and he seems very amused, but also there is some other small thing in his look, and she can’t catch it yet.

“Are you already planning to leave? I am here making you tea, so you aren’t leaving for now.”

She snorts, leaning against the doorframe. “Where can I find my clothes?”

He chuckles softly, “I have no idea, probably by the entrance door. You were super in hurry last night. Not that I complain.”

Luna covers her face with her hands, this is definitely too much for her, for her patience and for her heart, because with every line like this she is more and more sure of what happened last night and as much as she loves the idea, she still hates the guy and he probably hates her. So, there is something wrong with him right now; he is acting actually chill and definitely not sending her cold stares, quite opposite in this very moment.

He leaves his coffee and her tea on the counter and goes to her. Well, he intends to go through the door to leave the kitchen, but that Luna didn’t think and he bumps into her.

“I don’t really mind you walking around in my tshirt, but if you miss that pretty, little dress-” His hands end up on her hips as he is passing her by and making himself a place in the doorstep, and Luna loses it for a moment, remembering his hands on her the night before and she honestly doesn’t want to leave, but her body is one and her brain is second. She has to go home, take a shower and try to forget about this one time thing and how hot this fucker looks without his shirt on.

She steps softly on the wooden, cold floor until she is by the counter to get her tea and wonders how it’s gonna be now in class when she has been here, seen him like this. He is back quickly anyway, standing too close to her for it to be normal, Luna doesn’t mind, it is not a forced thing and at this point she doesn’t mind his presence.

“I got your dress and all the stuff to the bathroom, if you wanna shower I left you a towel there, so that’s all on you, okay?” He says and lowkey smiles, but it doesn’t end up believable and she nods softly. “Are you always so quiet or it’s just with me?” Matteo asks, nudging her slightly and she looks at him. “No, I am just thinking.”

“About what?” He asks demandingly and it feels like the creep ta and Luna pouts. “You are weird.”

“Weird.” He repeats raising his eyebrows and she nods. “What do you mean by weird though?”

“That you are not- you know.” She mumbles, not sure how to say that.

“An asshole.” Matteo guesses and Luna nods, making him laugh. It feels kind of safe to act chiller here, at least she knows he isn’t as mean right now as in the class. “I can be an asshole if you want though.”

She looks at him with raised eyebrows, because what is he even talking about? She has no idea also if he is making fun of her or not; he is having this almost serious face and apparently doesn’t care about the fact that they are too close for it to be acceptable. Yet Luna doesn’t move away either. “I don’t want you to be mean, enough that I have to stand you in class.” She pouts and tries to not look away.

Matteo sighs dramatically pulling away from the counter and walks slowly towards the white table. His hands are in the pockets of his sweats and he seems to make every movement lazily, which is lowkey surprising how unforced everything is. He is about to sit down on the chair, but something stops him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks before yawning and Luna can only stare at him for first few seconds. “Luna.” His voice wakes her up and she just nods, deciding to use the situation as much as possible.

“So you say you hate me, don’t you?” He asks, reaching for jar with chocolate while Luna takes the sepals away from her strawberry before she puts it on her pancake. “I never said I did.”

“Then what is that?”

“I don’t know,” she rolls her pancake so she can eat it without using any fork and knife, who would really? It’s breakfast. “I know that I never really liked you, because you this weirdo who doesn’t let himself as a question and you always make me feel tiny, tiniest like this.” To show how tiny, Luna points at the strawberry. “See? This small brown seed, that’s how small I feel and I hate this.”

Matteo chuckles shaking his head and she kicks him under the table. “Hey, don’t kick me.” He orders with amused voice. She scrunches her nose.

“You are making fun of me.”

He looks at her through the table and smiles taking a bite of his pancake. “You look very cute like this. And you are very tiny by yourself, why would I try to make you smaller?”

“I don’t know.” Luna shrugs, taking a bite of her pancake. “You seem like a guy who likes to torture people or something.”

Apparently chocolate and strawberries are deleting her chill and filter and at this point she keeps telling whatever her brain is thinking, and Matteo seems to notice this because he is staring at her continuously from over his plate.

“The point is, that you-” she points at him with her chocolate finger. “Have to chill, because we all plus you, will have grey hair by the end of the semester.”

He leans to her and reaches for the wrist of her hand she extended, pulling it to him and taking her finger to his mouth softly. She stares at him speechless, not sure what the hell is going on with this guy, but he seems to be very smug seeing her face. “You had chocolate on the tip of your finger.” That’s all he says and Luna tries to breathe, she can’t really though and they both know it, what makes this asshole even more full of himself.

“So, you can continue your conclusion speech about my working, I will take all advice you have for me.”

She knows he said it ironically, but manages to not look any awkward; or at least more awkward than she was. “I just genuinely think that we all would be happier if you chilled a little. No one is gonna be trying to trick or cheat on you when they all know what shit can you pull, y’know? Maybe someone would finally ask a question after the lecture if they weren’t creeped by you.”

Luna blesses herself for keeping her voice stable and quiet; all she wants to do right now is to hide under the table to make him stop looking at her like she was extra pancake he wants to eat when he is hungry.

“O-kay, do you have anything else, any complaint to make?” He smirks leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms.

She suddenly remembers, and maybe this is not the best moment to touch this topic, but who cares honestly? “Yes, you made me a damn hickey!”

Matteo smirks even more. “Do you want another one?”

The question is weird as fuck, again constructed the way Luna has no idea how to answer and what to answer, since he loves to take points for writing something he never asked. She is sleepy as hell since she overslept and is very mess today (like always, but today more), and morning test was the best thing to woke her up, obviously.

As always he is walking around, between rows of the desks, his arms crossed and steps are quiet. He is doing it slower than usually, maybe even chiller and Luna can’t stop herself from just watching him until he turns around and she can dive into her test again. She crosses her legs with dramatic sigh and pouts, skipping to another question and she wants to give up.

She looks at him hoping that he won’t notice, but he is staring at her and doesn’t take his eyes away. The first thing he does is small frown and he opens his mouth, yet stops himself letting the breath out loudly. He shakes his head very obviously and turns away walking towards his desk again, however this time he moves the chair away and takes his seat, still not stopping looking at the class.

Luna smiles to herself when his eyes lock on her and she raises an eyebrow. Corners of Matteo’s mouth curl up as he sends her a wink and maybe he won’t be that bad himself now.

#soy luna #lutteo #luna valente #matteo balsano #ta au #my writing