She was the lightening, beautiful and silent. I was the thunder, loud and angry. Her tears were the rain that poured heavily and my words were the cyclone; my fists the tornado that constantly hit home. She was my home but I don’t have a home anymore.
Title: The Promise (Mechanic!Dean x Reader, Best Friends AU). Part 1.
Summary: When Dean Winchester was a little kid, he met a girl that would change his life. So, he stood by her through thick and thin and every time people asked him what home was to him all he could think of was her beautiful smile and her big, bright eyes and the sound of her laughter. Because, like Melville used to say, his home was not down in any map. True places never are.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Mary and John Winchester (mentioned), Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Leslie (OFC, only mentioned), Lisa Braeden
Word count: 7217 (I know, I know, it’s a monster fic but I hope it’s worth it)
Warnings: Language. Lots of fluff. Angst. Divorche, mentions of an almost-fatal car accident and drunk driving, death of a parent. Kid Dean (trust me that should be a warning). Lots of feels.
Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @luci-in-trenchcoats ‘s 2K Follower Challenge. Michelle, congratulations on your milestone, you deserve it so much!
Thank you for organizing this and for letting me participate. I had tons of fun writing this.
Now into the fic, my prompt was “
We’ll figure it out. We always do.” and it is included in the text below in bold. (This is an AU, written entirely from Dean’s POV and hopefully they’ll be more parts.)
Dean was five years old when he met the girl that would change his life.
Of course, he was too young to know it
then, but that didn’t stop Lady Luck from working her magic.
Everything started at the playground just a few blocks away from his
house. The little Y/H/C girl was there again that morning, just like the last
two times, jumping off the swing like she could fly, but Dean didn’t want to
leave his mum and his brother alone to go talk to her. So, he stayed away,
stealing glances every now and then, until another boy, older than him and
plainly mean, shoved her off the
swing and made her fall flat on her butt.
The girl gasped in surprise, her bottom lip wobbling and Dean knew he had to do something about it because he hated seeing girls cry; it reminded him
of that time his parents spent the entire night fighting, and of the next
morning, when his mother’s eyes were red and puffy and he had to hug her and
tell her that joke about the stick being brown and sticky to make her laugh.
So, the green-eyed boy walked to that annoying kid, told him to leave
her alone and when he didn’t listen and made fun of her again, Dean punched him
so hard that his stupid Pokemon hat
flew off and his whole face turned red.
A few seconds later, Stupid Hat
was leaving with his tail between his legs and Dean was turning towards the
girl that looked like a scared little bird, her big Y/E/C eyes wide open.
“Are you okay?” he implored, taking a step forward.
She nodded solemnly and looked down on the ground.
“Are you going to be mean to me like he was?” she asked.
Dean shook his head.
“No. He was an idiot. Here, give me your hand.” He said and she obeyed,
smiled shyly at him.
A/N: I changed from my last post and I now write as “she/her” instead of “me/I” as I like the sound of it better! Please tell me what you think!
Out of every, possible event, she hated Tony’s “celebration parties” the most. They could have gone one a stealth mission and gone unnoticed to the world, yet he would throw a party for their victory and people would show up clueless, desperate to mingle with the mighty Avengers. It was pathetic, if she had a say in it, both from Tony’s part and the guests, but there was little she could do about it apart from not attending the party itself.
She usually ended up working in some form instead, either training or doing paperwork. This particular time, training sounded more needed.
They had came back from their mission a two weeks prior and she had spent those weeks resting. God knows she needed that time off but her body couldn’t rest for long before it began to crawl with anticipation for any kind of action. Whatever action she could get from training would have to suffice.
She entered the gym, which was eerily empty of course as everyone was having a grand ole’ time a couple of floors above. She didn’t have to worry about any machines she wanted to use being occupied however or having to hold back grunts and brutal expressions, which was a nice change.
She got on the treadmill, wanting to warm up a little with a two mile jog or something along those lines. She increased the steepness and put the speed on medium and created a steady rhythm in her movement. It was calming, feeling her body in synch with what seemed like the world. Her mind drifted from reality and to not, back and forth. She went over a few work-related things in her head that she had to remember, thought about that trip to the Caribbean she had wanted to go on for years. Before she knew it, the timer went off, indicating that her two miles were up.
She climbed down the treadmill, her mussel warm and ready to continue working out. The only problem, she could feel the stitches hurting.
After their mission which was to hunt down a group of people who had gathered way too much chitauri technology for both their good as well as everyone else’s, she had gotten a little roughed up. Some guy might have stabbed her with a blade made out of chitauri metal. She was sick for five days with alien-fever, or whtever, whilst Bruce’s serum worked its wonders slowly, and the damn guy who stabbed her managed to pierce the bottom of her left lung of course. It had been painful to breathe the first week but after that it had became easier, and if she rested any longer, she would loose her mind.
She got onto the bench press, grabbing the weight that was still resting on it which was decent enough. She clutched her hands around the iron bar and took a few, steady breaths before raising it above her head. Her mussels tensed as she began to heave the bar up and down, sweat beginning to form at her hairline. She could feel the burn beginning to build up in her arms and she smiled, feeling like she was returning to her normal self again. Training was a big part of her life. Seeing as she had no powers or intense background story, training was all she had to remain qualified for the team.
She could practically hear it.
The weight fell behind her head and tumbled onto the floor as she rolled to the side, falling to the ground with a loud and abnormally painful thud. Her hand clutched over her ribs where blood had already started drenching her white shirt. Her breaths became more shallow and extremely more difficult to take. No doubt, blood was beginning to fill up her left lung. She tried to sit up at least, but a wave of pain shot through her body, making her head involuntarily fall back against the floor.
She attempted to put pressure on the wound that had split open as she felt more blood run down the side of her chest. That hurt more than anything however and a strained cry left her lips. Her throat felt dry but gradually the test of iron became more prominent. She tried to swallow it down and winced at how painful that was too, feeling numb from the pain that she kept going through.
“F-Friday?” She called out, hoping Tony hadn’t muted her for the evening, if that was even something he could do.
“How can I assist, Ms. Y/L/N?”
Oh thank god. “I need h-help… I’m bleeding I- I can’t… I can’t breathe.” Her chest was practically jumping up and down from the short and ragged breaths her body allowed her to take.
“Contacting all team members.” She informed much to her relief. A few seconds passed of silence however which I she didn’t necessarily like. “I am unable to reach most of the team but I was able to contact Mr. Barnes.”
That would have to be good enough.
She remained as much pressure to the wound as she could but panicked as she felt blood reach her elbow. She glanced down, feeling faint at the size of the puddle which had formed around her. She was loosing blood, fast, and Tony’s damn party was ruining everything.
The door to the gym bursted open within barely thirty seconds and Bucky emerged in the doorframe, his chest heaving up and down rapidly and fear taking over him as he saw her laying on the floor. He was frozen in place for a few seconds, eyes blown wide.
“Oh god…” He rushed to her side, kneeling in the blood and removing her hand over the wound, whimpering at the sight before covering it with his own. She cried out in pain again as he put more pressure on it than she had herself, her heart rapidly beating at the increased pain which was unbearable. “I- I don’t know what to do!”
She met Bucky’s ice cold eyes, unable to focus properly as the faintness became stronger. “I don’t know e-either…” She admitted with a forced smile, revealing her blood stained teeth to Bucky who whimpered again.
Bucky looked down to her face as She lazily glanced up to the ceiling. He could see how dazed she was, how hard it was for her to breathe. Every fiber in his body wanted to do something but none of the options that came to his mind sounded any good, but he didn’t have much choice.
“Listen, Y/N. I’m going to pick you up now, okay? I need you to keep pressure on that wound for me. Can you do that? Y/N?”
He tried to contact her which became more difficult by the second. She managed to nod however and placed her bloody hand over his before he pulled away.
He put his metal arm under her back and his flesh one under her thighs, as steadily as possible raising her off the ground and feeling his heart rip at the weak sounds that left her lips from the torture she was under. He carried her out of the gym and his hearing listened to nothing but her breathing which he could swear became shorter and shorter.
“You with me?” He questioned as they reached the elevator, the doors opening up as they approached. She hummed quietly which was as good of an answer as he was going to get. He told Friday to take them to the others. He really couldn’t care that there would be a hundred guests on that floor. Y/N was far too hurt for him to care about some random people seeing her half dead in his arms, her blood covering both herself and him.
As the elevator slowed down and they reached the party deck, it felt as of time slowed down too. Bucky felt adrenaline rush through his system as the doors open and the crowded room came before him.
“Steve!” Bucky screamed as loud as he physically could, the entire floor becoming dead silent by his thundering shout before erupting with yelps and gasps of shock. Tony was the closest and dropped the drink in his hand, the glass shattering and its pieces blending with the champagne. Bucky fell to his knees and placed Y/N on the floor, his jaw clenching as he saw how pale her skin was.
“I didn’t know what to do.” Bucky stated as Tony knelt on the other side of her limp body, beginning to look over her injuries. Steve was pushing through the crowd towards them and soon reached them, his mouth dropping upon seeing Y/N and all the blood on both her and Bucky.
Tony raised her t-shirt to her chest, seeing the wound which had opened right up.
“Her stitches have been ripped. We need to get her to surgery, now! Where’s Banner?”
“I’m right here.” He just came to the scene and Natasha and Thor were not far behind. Clint, Sam and Rhodes glanced back to her with worry from time to time but had all mutually understood that the guests couldn’t be left alone. The three of them created a small barrier and kept reassuring the guests that everything was alright, although it was far from.
“Bu-” She tried to say Bucky’s name but her voice betrayed her. “I-”
Her breathing became alarmingly shallow and rapid, fear filling her eyes as she could tell herself that she was slipping.
“No…” Bucky said, a year rolling down his cheek as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. Everyone around him were in panic, hurrying for the things she needed, trying to save her. He just watched her as her face stilled and her chest fell flat against the floor, the life running out of her eyes until they were still as stone, staring right into his. “No…”
He pulled her into his arms, not listening to Tony or Bruce or even Steve. He pressed his lips against her forehead, rocking back and forth in panic as she laid there, dead.
He sat by the hospital bed where they had put her, eyes stinging red and his fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the hospital bed. He rocked back and forth subtly, anxious beyond compare. God, he had feelings for that women and he never even got the chance to tell her.
“It should be wearing off.” He said impatiently, watching Y/N’s pale face which appeared so lifeless he almost couldn’t look at her. Her pale lips were still stained red from her blood and it looked as if she would never wake up.
“It is.” Bruce tried his best to sound reassuring, and he did a good job, but Bucky didn’t care. He listened to the beeping of the heart monitor and studied her body like a hawk would its prey. Every movement he detected, every rise and fall of her chest. He noticed how her closed eyes tightened and how she sighed more deeply.
“Y/N?” His hand clutched hers, avoiding the clasp around her finger with a long wire from it. He watched as her eyes groggily opened and a smile spread across his face, tears welling in his eyes that he couldn’t care less about if she noticed.
Everyone could feel the electricity between the two of them, even Vision who had little to no grasp of the concept of love. Everyone could see it but the two of them it seemed. They were honest to themselves, at least. Bucky knew how he felt for her and she knew how she felt for him, but they were blind when it came to seeing one another.
When she had been stabilized, everyone had left her be as they knew Bucky would want to be alone with her until the second she woke up. It didn’t matter if it would have taken a week. Bucky would have stayed awake every minute incase she ever needed him. It was a mystery how Y/N couldn’t see that and it was a miracle that Bucky hadn’t been able to see the pure admiration in Y/N’s eyes every time they spoke to one another. The two of them took the saying of “love is blind” to a new level.
“Hey…” He continued to smile as her eyes met his, his flesh thumb moving back and forth softly over her hand. “You left us there for a moment.”
She sighed again, trying to gather herself as the sedatives and painkillers were still dozing her off. “You did?” Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking for affirmation in Bruce who stood behind Bucky.
“We did.” Bruce confirmed.
“You want to know something cool though? Or something I know you’ll find cool, at least?” Bucky wanted to lighten the mood as he knew that’s what she wanted. He watched the curiosity begin to eat at her as he dragged out the moment.
“Just tell me!” She said impatiently, her normal character detectable.
“Thor had to use his hammer to jumpstart your heart.” He grinned and she gasped, lips parting and eyebrows raising.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“I’m not kidding. We didn’t have time to get a proper defibrillator, so Thor improvised.”
“Ha… Wicked.” She let out an airy laugh, smiling. “One of you better have that on film. I swear, that’s going on my resume… Y/N, trained in hand to hand combat with the Avengers, electrocuted by freaking Mjölnir and still alive.”
Both Bruce and Bucky laughed when the door to the hospital-like room opened up.
“There she is!” Natasha emitted as she and Steve entered the room. She carried a bouquet of white tulips in her hand, knowing they were Y/N’s favorite. “How’s our idiotic friend, who though training after being stabbed in the lung was a good idea?”
Y/N flipped Natasha off, laughing before pain took over her features, her hand instinctively moving to her chest. “God that hurts.”
“I’m putting you on a three week rest this time. No lifting weights, you hear me? No training.” Bruce warned her and she saluted, confirming that she had indeed heard. Bucky watched as she slowly began to recover and act as herself again and it brought warmth to the old man’s heart. He had watched her die, watched her heart stop, yet only moments after waking up, she was back to normal.
Maybe it was the fighting spirit in her, or the pure joy she always carried around, but there was something about that girl that set her apart from everyone else in the best of ways.
Finally a new chapter is out! This part is ~~extra long because I haven’t updated in such a long time it was only fair! Enjoy and if you want to talk to me about it please go ahead! I love this little AU to bits.
The warmth of Will’s body glided along the surface of his skin and despite himself, despite the muffled terror he felt in the pit of his stomach at the thought of falling asleep again, his temples relaxed and his breathing started following the rhythmic movements of Will’s chest. Within minutes, conscious thoughts dissipated into the darkness of oblivion and he slept, trapped into a suffocating molasses that stank of iodine and tear gas.
Lacy Little Underthings: A Court of Mist and Fury Short Story
So, this is my first ACOTAR series short story and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it but I’ve got some MAJOR ACOMAF feels and I felt like this needed to be—no, it was imperative—that it be written.
If you’ve read ACOMAF, you’re sure to pick up where I got this inspiration.
I also figured this would be the perfect time to post a new story considering I reached over 550 followers this week! It may not seem like much to some, but it is a hell of a lot to me so thank you thank you a thousand times thank you to all of you who follow me, especially those of you who nearly religiously read my stories and fanfictions and inbox me and encourage me. I don’t know what I’d do without you all:)
Also, it’s been exactly one year on June 2, 2016 that I joined Tumblr. And it has certainly been an adventure. So, Happy One-Year Anniversary thelittleloverofbooks!
Without further ado, enjoy!
I awoke the next morning to a face, completely handsome in its entirety and startling in its unexpectedness. My breath caught, and my body tensed to spring but—
Rhysand let out a low chuckle as my heartbeat slowed. I took in the sight of him; dressed in a casual dark-colored shirt that matched the shade of his eyes and black pants, strong arms crossed in front of his chest. He was the perfect picture of a High Lord: powerful, at ease, appearing to have absolutely everyone and everything under control.
He was so wholly different from the last time I saw him—weeks, it seemed; I could not hold back that part of me that was adamantly searching for any sign of hurt or harm that could have come to him while he had been away.
“Oh so now you’re watching me sleep,” I ground out and sat up, my back resting against the pillows. “Pathetic, Rhysand. Even for you.”
“Well, I suppose I just can’t help it. You’re even more…tempting when you’re asleep.” Those violet eyes burned right through me.
I swore at him, vulgar and unabashed but he only chuckled and came to sit on the edge of my bed.
He tisked. “Now, now, Feyre, darling that’s no way to behave.”
I glared at him. “Did you come here only to piss me off?”
“No, actually. Though I must admit that there is something about seeing you squirm that brings me eternal joy.” He smirked, and I hated how my heart galloped at the sight of it. “No, I actually came to tell you to get dressed.”
“Should I even bother to ask why?”
“That,” he answered, heaving himself off my bed. The spot he was just occupying was replaced with a new set of clothes and underthings. “Is for me to know, and for you to find out once we arrive.”
He strode towards the door, his parting words being that he would be back to retrieve me in half an hour.
I glared at his retreating back for a good solid three minutes before I realized that I should probably get dressed. I had no doubts at all that Rhysand would still take me wherever it was he planned to go whether I was fully dressed or not. And I’d rather not go in the sheer nightgown I was currently dressed in.
With a scowl, I went through the motions of taking a quick but thorough bath, brushing out my hair, dressing, and was in the middle of eating a hasty breakfast when he returned.
“Well,” he purred. Rhysand stole a few grapes and popped them into his mouth. “I must say, you look ravishing in Night Court clothing, Feyre.”
Am I supposed to deny that I find you attractive?
You’ve never said it.
I’ve told you many times, and quite frequently, how attractive I find you.
His words from before echoed in my head.
Not entirely sure how to respond, I only took another bite of my food and said, “I wonder where it is that we’re going that would require the High Lord of the Night Court to come with me.”
Rhysand grinned. Lethal, predatory as he leaned on the table, mere inches from my face as he lowly said, “Oh there are many, many places that I could take you, Feyre.” His said my name like a caress against my cheek.
“And could Cassian or Azriel take me these places as well?”
“I’m sure they could,” he replied, eyes holding something dangerous. “But I assure you, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”
Not so much as a heartbeat passed before Rhys took my arm and we were gone—winnowing to I knew not where.
One moment we were in my bedroom and the next—
Sunlight. And people. And music.
We were standing in the middle of the street in Velaris. No one so much as blinked an eye at the fact that their High Lord had just appeared out of nowhere and was mingling among them.
“What are we doing here?”
He released his hold on me, thumb briefly caressing the underside of my forearm before fully letting go, and started walking.
I hesitated, and when Rhysand stopped to look at where I stood, eyebrows raised in a silent question, I inwardly cursed him before catching up. When I did, the left side of those sensuous lips were slightly tilted up in a devil’s smirk, as if he had indeed heard my thoughts.
We strolled lazily, me continuing to take in the beauty that Velaris had to offer, Rhys mingling with his people. It still amazed me how they all respected him, smiled at him as he passed, reverently inclined their heads in his direction.
Not a High Lord who ruled by fear but…But something wholly different.
And then Rhysand stopped in front of a shop.
“What the hell are we doing here?” I could stop the surprise from my tone.
“We are here, Feyre, to cash in on a little promise I made a few days ago.” He said nothing more as he opened the door, stepping aside to allow me entrance and I knew instantly just exactly what he was referring to.
“Good afternoon,” a beautiful, dark-haired woman with a face as feral as a wild cat’s greeted us as soon as we entered. “High Lord Rhysand,” her voice quivered almost imperceptibly at the sight of him. “How may I assist you?”
“Good afternoon, Carwen. How is your nephew? Arwyn, if my memory serves me right.”
“He is well, thank you.” Rhysand nodded once before turning to me.
“This is Feyre. She will be the one shopping today.”
The woman—Carwen—smiled, if not a bit nervously, at me before again asking what she could assist me with.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the back,” Rhysand informed me before turning and striding away.
“He certainly is something, our High Lord.” I tore my gaze to find two more ladies, their arms already laden with clothing.
“Yes,” I murmured, unable to keep the small smile off my face, “he certainly is.”
Upon asking what all of those clothes were in their arms, the two new ladies— Orla and Emer—informed me that they were suggestions(his words, not theirs) from Rhysand.
“Is there anything in particular that you’d like to try on, Feyre?” Carwen politely asked.
“Yes, actually,” All three ladies listened with rapt attention as I described what I needed.
“Oh yes,” Orla replied smiling. “I believe we have exactly what you’re looking for.”
Moments later, I was stripping behind a blank white curtain, my heart pounding so loud I was certain Rhysand could hear it from the other side.
“Yes, that’ll be it, thank you.” He must have been talking to the ladies.
I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself.
“Come now, Feyre, darling. We haven’t all day,” his voice purred from outside.
“This would be a lot better and plenty more amusing for me if you were also partaking in these festivities.” I suddenly could not stop a grin from plastering on my face at the image of Rhysand in sexy black and white underthings.
His reply came back, obviously amused,“Oh, I’m not sure the world’s quite ready for that just yet.”
I finished slipping on the lacy red set that I had had my eyes on for weeks now, and—before I could talk myself out of it—pulled aside that black curtain and stepped out.
I felt Rhysand tense.
And I looked up to meet his gaze.
His eyes languidly looked me up once.
Dark eyes burned everywhere they lingered until they finally met mine again, this time with a slight glaze over them.
Fire coursed through my veins and pooled at my core.
“Carwen?” He casually called out.
“I believe Feyre and I shall be here for a while.” He went on to inform them that there was no need to stick around and we’d be sure to leave the tab on the front counter.
Judging by his tone, there was absolutely no room for discussion on this matter.
I held his stare—all at once playful and seductive and filled with promise— as the sounds of the three ladies quietly packing up and leaving was the only one to be heard.
I could tell when they had left.
His eyes raked over my body, practically undressing me, giving each and every inch the attention it so deserved. My breasts, my bare stomach, my exposed legs.
And in between them.
When his eyes finally again met mine, they were an impossible shade darker; no longer of violet, but of pure, unrelenting darkness and gleaming like two shining stars of lust.
He crooked a single finger and murmured, “Come here.”
It was silent save for my thundering heartbeat, and I was painfully aware of every step that brought me closer to him.
His legs parted slightly as I stood between them, and his hands, rough and calloused from centuries and centuries and centuries, slid up to my waist, pulling me closer.
His eyes did not once leave mine as he leaned in, sensuous lips brushing a tentative kiss to my navel and I shivered, eyes fluttering at the flood of pleasure that one touch sent roaring through my veins.
Rhysand’s tongue traced lazy circles across the plane of my stomach and…Cauldron boil and damn me—
A soft moan escaped my parted lips. Rhys lowly growled in response and his teeth joined his tongue, his mouth, his hands. All of them came together to form a sweet, dizzying melody as he kissed, bit, licked, kiss, bit, licked, bit, kissed until my stomach was a garden of pink purple flowers.
Rhysand’s hands cupped my backside, encouraging me to straddle him and I gladly, willingly, complied.
His lips paid new attention to my neck, and a delicious shudder danced down my spine.
“I want to rip this thing to shreds,” he growled against the skin between my shoulder and neck. “I want to rip it to shreds and then take you against my lap, against that wall over there, against the front desk. Again…”
Damn me, I wanted him to. I wanted him to take me, to fuck me right here in the back of this shop.
As if he could hear my thoughts, “Tell me what you want, Feyre.” His hands rubbed indolent circles on the inside of my thighs.
I buried my nose in his neck.
His fingers came closer to where I was aching for him.
I wanted him now.
I moaned again, feeling him go rock hard beneath me and I wanted every single inch of him inside of me…
His forefinger teased me as he rubbed against the thin, blood-red fabric adorning my lower half.
“Tell me, Feyre.”
My breath was hot and heavy and labored on his skin but I still managed to say, in a breathy whisper, “I want your hands on me.”
Rhys was driving me insane, and he very well knew it.
So I took both his hands in mine and—with newfound boldness— slide his left one up to cup my breast, the other to where I longed so much for him to touch.
He chuckled, the sound coming from the back of his throat and thrumming all throughout my body as I whispered, “Please.”
So fast I nearly jumped in surprise, his forefinger slid the fabric to the side and was inside me.
Rhys, feeling my wetness for him, growled so loudly that I was suddenly very, very grateful that he had sent the other ladies away.
His hips ground against me as pleasure filled me. His hands massaged and teased me, felt the full hardness of him.
A second finger joined the first and I writhed on top of him as they pumped in and out of me, slowly at first and then vigorously as I climbed higher higher higher, as high as the snow-capped mountains that smelt of jasmine and dreams and nightmares and darkness.
And as I reached the highest point, I bit down on the soft skin of Rhysand’s shoulder to muffle my voice as I screamed and moaned and worshipped his name over and over and over; falling slowly so slowly down that mountain.
When I opened my eyes, my body still quivering from the pleasure that came from Rhys’s lips and tongue and hands—
He lifted his fingers to his mouth and—one by one—sucked my excitement from them. His eyes fluttered closed and he groaned.
“As much as I would love to do that again,” his voice was a lover’s caress, “Azriel and Cassian are, unfortunately, expecting me to discuss some rather important matters.”
“When?” I dared ask.
He graced me with a lazy, wicked grin.
“Half an hour ago.”
I craned my neck to look out the shop’s windows and—sure enough, the sun was beginning to set, acquiescing to the moon and darkness and stars and music was starting to crescendo and the people of Velaris were milling about in greater numbers.
Had it really been that long?
He placed an innocent, soft kiss to the curve of my throat before silently encouraging me to detach myself from him.
I re-dressed as Rhysand kept to his word and put the tab on the front counter and by the time I exited the curtain once again, this time clad in my clothes of Night Court dress, he was done.
Though nearly fully covered, Rhys’s eyes still devoured that small sliver of my bare stomach and his eyes darkened again as if to say, I’m strongly considering taking you right where you stand, but he schooled his features into one of dark, twisted humor before holding his hand out to me.
I took it, and we winnowed again, this time not taking me by nearly as much surprise as we hurtled through darkness and light and stars and a moment later, stood in the middle of my bedroom.
Rhysand, still holding onto me, tenderly grazed the skin of my cheek with his thumb. I leaned into his embrace and felt lips place a languid kiss to my forehead.
When I looked again, Rhys was gone. Nothing but tendrils of black smoke left in his wake.
Sleep came to me fast and unrelenting that night.
I dreamt of light and dark and stars and sun and soft lips and rough hands caressing me.
That morning, I woke to a familiar piece of paper on the pillow beside me. It was bare, but the request was so obviously plain that he may as well have written it.
For a High Lord, you sure seem to have enough spare time on your hands.
It vanished, and no more than three heartbeats passed before—
I assure you, I have much more than spare time on them. Last night should attest to that…
Smiling at the flirtatious words, I picked up a pen, and scribbled a response.