#LIL SKIES REAL TIES

[devilmademewriteit]

Javier Peña & Joel Miller Headcanons

a smutty edition<3

warnings: rough sex/smut (fem penetration, oral (both receiving), fingering) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; dbf!Joel Miller; step!dad Joel Miller (so step-cest [I’m sorry]); implied age gap; choking; spanking; smoking (and probably more—this is just pure filth, read at your own risk).

TYSM for 500 followers!! In honour of that, enjoy some slightly depraved Joel Miller & Javier Peña headcanons based on requests yall have sent me<33333

PS: DBJAG part 3 coming to YOUR dash, real soon! Read part 1 here & part 2 here!

—

Javi laying his steady hands against the soft, inner skin of your thighs, spreading your shaking legs wide open for him and letting out a sinful groan. He’d never seen anything so perfect as the sight of your aching cunt dribbling down onto your cluttered desk. His practiced tongue draws long, breathy exhalations from your lips. Keep quiet while I taste you, querida. Skirt bunching around your waist, underwear shoved in his back pocket, your knuckles turn white on the hardwood edge of the table as you listen for footsteps, voices, the distant ring of a telephone.

“Be a good girl and keep watch for me—or d’you want everyone in the office to know just how needy this pussy is?

Dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, fucking you dumb from behind in a dark, deserted alleyway, muffling your cries with a calloused hand over your mouth. His fingernails dig mercilessly into the skin under your cheekbones—Joel loves watching the combined effect of his cock and his suffocating palm on your big, drunken eyes, sending them rollin’, straight up to the skies. He laughs when you squirm against his hips, responding to every desperate moan you breathe against his skin with a lazy, harsh slap to your ass.

“Always wanted to send you back to your old man with my cum drippin’ down your thighs”

It’s your first month at the new job—after graduating college, you thought the possibility of being hazed was behind you. That is…until you get assigned a seat next to Javier Peña at a work dinner, feeling a rough hand slide up your leg and long, dexterous fingers ease your underwear to the side, teasing your aching clit all night long. He engages you in small talk with your boss—the weather and politics—speaking nonchalantly as his middle and fourth fingers pump in and out of your pulsing cunt.

“Words a little hard tonight, sweetheart? Or something else getting you tongue-tied?”

Joel’s massive hands on either side of your head as he facefucks you selfishly, tears running down your puffy cheeks while you near-suffocate on his thick length. Open wide before you swallow, baby—show me how my cum looks on your lil’ tongue. Grabbing at his forearms and staring into his dark, hungry eyes, dazedly wondering how you’ll manage to hide the bruises on your knees in the coming weeks. Dragging a thick thumb under your eye, he drinks in the sight of your tear-soaked face.

“That’s right,” an approving groan. “Knew that pretty lil’ mouth was good for somethin’ other than whinin’”

Riding Agent Peña on his unmade bed, bringing your lighter up to the cigarette hanging from his mouth til’ the tip glows red-hot. Breathing in the smoke he blows out between your ecstasy-parted lips as he rolls his hips against yours, the dark head of his cock pressing against that spot inside you.

“Look at me when you come, hermosa. Look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock up inside you.”

Getting lessons from your step-dad, Joel, on how to stroke, suck, and ride a cock properly—like a big girl. He talks you through it slowly, breaking you in til’ you’re sore, bruised, and thoroughly used. Like that, Joel? Pumping his hard length between your delicate, devoted fingers, watching intently as his face contorts with pleasure. Alright, angel—that’s enough playin’ around. Facedown for me, now. Listening, paying attention, doing your best to be the perfect little student.

“N’ when a man says he wants to come inside this needy lil’ pussy, you say yes, alright?”

Blowing off steam with a couple of girlfriends at the bar and running into the very person who’s been making your work-life so stressful. Watching him flirt with other women for hours before he bothers a glance your way. Rolling your eyes when he winks at you. Javier’s low voice rings crystal clear despite the loud music filling the space—one hand on your shoulder, the other hovering over the back of your neck as he leans down to whisper softly in your ear.

“Roll your eyes all you want, querida; we’ll see how tough you are when I’ve got you on your hands and knees, beggin’ for it”

Joel Miller—over double your age and double your size—growing tired of the short, tight clothing you’ve been wearing around him. Dressin’ like that’s gonna attract the wrong kinda attention, sweetheart. Testing him, pulling him in with a wicked, skyward gaze—that’s what I’m hoping for, Miller—and getting rewarded with a thick hand around your throat, rough fingers manhandling your breasts. Need me to show you what the wrong kinda attention feels like? Nodding enthusiastically, needing for him to use you.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, if I’da known how much of a slut you are, I woulda fucked you stupid the second you were legal”

Bonus fluff:

Agent Peña carrying you home to his couch after watching you take one too many shots at the club. He just can’t help stepping in to rescue you, regardless of the fact that he barely even knows you. When you wake up in the morning, confused and thoroughly hungover, he’s already at the office—but there’s a warm coffee, an aspirin, and a muffin waiting for you on the nearby table.

“you really can’t handle your tequila, hermosa. did you eat?”

Joel kissing you roughly at the peak of his climax and then finding himself completely unable to stop. Your lips are sore, red, and severely abused by the end of the night and still the man can’t get enough of you. The grey-speckled hair of his mustache brushes against your Cupid’s bow and he tastes like necessity, something desperate in the way his mouth clings to yours, his hand delicately cradling the back of your head. Almost as if you were precious to him.

“you sure know how to make a hard man soft.”

—

TAGLIST: @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @maudlinflowers

[soundcloudgems]

Lil Skies - Real Ties

[lilskieswifey]

[breadwinnnerz]

(lil skies)

[zikbitume]

(lil skies) @LilSkies - Real Ties (prod. by Etrou & Taz Taylor)

[mattmahder]

"Real Ties" by Lil Skies https://spoti.fi/2AOBc7y

[nctrnm]

NctrnmFM(nctrnm.com): "Real Ties" by Lil Skies. My NEW EP, ONYX is now available for pre-save @ https://onyx.nctrnm.com

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au ACOSF - Chapter 64

TW: psychological abuse, abuse by a parent, body image issues, ED

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth

The crescent moon gleamed brightly in the black sky like a piece of it had been torn away to reveal the glowing slither beneath. Nesta counted all of the stars she could see with Zasha sat between her legs in the cushioned window nook. She missed the night skies of the Night Court. The Illyrian skies were a thing of wonder in the darkness.

She found herself thinking about Cassian; whether he had remained in Illyria or had returned to Velaris. Whether Eris had kept his promise to deliver the letter – or if it lay undisturbed at the Hewn City until Cassian’s next visit. Her heart ached with sorrow for the way things had spiralled in the cabin. She had carried Emerie’s sadness about Velaris and weaponised it against Cassian because she knew she could draw blood.

For a while longer, Nesta remained in the window, hoping to see a pair of black wings sweeping across the sky. That maybe Nesta could have a romance from the stories where Cassian would lift her off her feet and kiss her then they’d apologise. Would he fly to Spring in the morning to resume her defence lessons or would he want time away from her? All Nesta could do was push people away. She’d been cruel to her father and negligent to Feyre. The only one Nesta would have moved mountains for did not want anything to do with her anymore; Elain had chosen her safety net rather than risk her comfort by being on Nesta’s side.

‘Come, my little queen. There is much to do.’

Her mother’s voice, brusque and eloquent, broke into the room. Nesta was suddenly sat at the vanity in her old bedroom; her mother had taught her how to braid a coronet and she’d been practising. Mother said it was better to have her hair tied back to show off her face rather than to leave it dangling like a street urchin.

‘A pity your face is harder than Elain’s,’ her mother had said once, turning her face from side to side with a pincer-like grip on her chin. ‘She will marry for love, the pretty little thing she is, but you will be a man’s trophy. Men will go to war for a woman like you, Nesta. A beautiful woman - but with a mind as sharp as a blade. You will be a prize for any man.’

Nesta remembered the day, but the face in the mirror was her own as it was now – not young and innocent – with pointed ears and elongated limbs. A figure stood behind her, peering over her shoulder at Nesta's reflection. A ring was on nearly every finger as well as bracelets and a delicate chain around her neck; the pendant dipping below the neckline.

‘Stand. Let me look at you,’ her mother said, clapping her hands together, the bracelets jingled as she did.

Nesta did as she was bid, as she always did where her mother was concerned. Like a vulture, her mother circled her. Her head snapped up and down Nesta’s body, surveying every inch to ensure it was up to standards.

‘Take off your dress, Nesta.’

She remembered this too, remembered the agony of these moments where she was inspected like an artefact in a museum. Even as an adult, Nesta’s heart thundered facing her mother. There had been meals that Nesta was not allowed to eat, others where her mother would raise her eyebrows at the portion on her plate or pass a comment that they would need the dressmaker out soon to fit her in a larger gown.

‘I will not ask you again.’

It was real and not real. Memory and dream. Again, her mother swarmed around her, saying nothing, only appraising her to measure whether Nesta could reach her strict standards. Cold fingers pinched her upper arms then prodded the length of her collar bone. ‘Hmm,’ she murmured, eyes lingering on Nesta’s chest. ‘You have a woman’s body now.’

Nesta waited awkwardly in the middle of the room, wishing the roof would collapse upon her while her mother strode to her own bedroom. She could hear the faint murmurings of her sisters in another room as they played. Even when she’d been as young as Feyre, Nesta had never been allowed to play. Their mother had taken her as her protegée as soon as she could walk and her childhood had become non-existant. The only times Nesta was ever allowed to play were the rare times her mother accompanied their father somewhere and servants would allow Nesta to be a child for a few hours.

It was a horrible, strange relationship they shared. Her mother put all of her efforts into Nesta’s future – the family’s future – she called it. Over and over, her mother would tell her that if their father were to die on his travels, it would be up to Nesta to save the family. It would be her advantageous marriage that would support the family. It was a constant threat that never allowed Nesta to rest on her laurels. Her mother would go to great lengths to tell her how much her father had paid for her gowns and jewels to show her off at balls, at the cost of the tutors who had come to educate Nesta on mathematics and languages.

She had not asked for any of it; her mother would frame it as a gift then remind Nesta of the cost to ensure she excelled. And yet Nesta still craved every minute with her, was desperate to win her favour because it was better to have her mother’s attention - even when she was angry with her - than to be ignored by her.

‘Take that off.’

The voice cracked like a whip as her mother returned. The odd line creased near her eyes and across her forehead like a finger traced in the sand. Her blonde hair was streaked with white. Nesta couldn’t help but wonder if this was how she would appear in the future – whenever that would be. She did not know if it would take centuries to age or millennia.

‘Nesta Archeron, do not be ignorant.’

Her mother had never hit her. No, her mother knew more effective ways to punish Nesta. She’d withhold her love, tell her how disappointed she was with her, would tell Nesta to fetch Elain or Feyre and their mother would be affectionate with them while Nesta had to remain at the table with her studies as punishment, wishing it was her who their mother kissed and cuddled.

She removed her chemise and stood only in her underwear. Her mother’s cool hands peeled her arms away from her chest. Nesta remembered how her body had suddenly changed overnight and her dresses had grown tighter across her chest. When she had bled for the first time, she’d wailed and called for a servant to help her fearing she had been injured. Her mother had sat her down and said she had become a woman. No longer was she allowed to share a room with Elain and Feyre. A woman deserves her own room, she had said. Nesta had only been twelve. Whispering stories in bed with Elain while Feyre snored quietly in the next bed had been her favourite moments of the day - and that had been taken from her.

A garment was wrapped around her chest; it was black satin and lined with unyielding whalebone. Nesta held it in place while her mother yanked the ribbons until the corset dug into her skin.

‘Mother, it hurts me.’

She heard the sharp inhale then her mother’s temper seemed to swell in the room like an unseen, unwelcome spirit. ‘Fine. Take it off. I shall see if Elain wants it. Elain never scorns my gifts.’

‘No, please. Please. Let me keep it. I will enjoy wearing it.’

‘Good,’ her mother murmured as she drew the laces tighter so there was a dull ache in her ribs. ‘You are blossoming into a woman, Nesta. We must celebrate it, not hide it away. It is nothing to be ashamed of.’

The adultification hadn’t affected Nesta then, but now, as she stood staring at her reflection while her mother once more encircled her, Nesta wanted to vomit. She had been a child. A child forced to dress as a woman to bat her eyelashes to men and engage them in alluring conversations. By fourteen, Nesta knew which men to delicately touch the hand of or which ones to brush her arm against as she moved past them. She knew which men liked it when she smiled, which ones preferred her to stay silent and listen. Nobody had fought for her. Her father kept quiet. Never voiced his discomfort at his eldest daughter being presented to his acquaintances – some even older than he was – and offered up as an investment.

‘Do not cry. You will ruin your face and not be allowed to the ball. What will we do if your father were to die tomorrow – and you had spent the night weeping instead of dancing? Would you like to see your sisters on the street, Nesta, because you were too selfish to put their needs ahead of your own?’

‘No, mother.’

Even now, as an adult trapped between this purgatory between dreaming and memories, Nesta cowered from her mother. She still could not stand up for herself. The automatic reply of “no, mother” was another act of submission. She stood as tall as her mother, her fae ears reminding her that this was not happening now. But with all the power churning inside of her, all that she had faced and survived, Nesta still was unable to tell her mother to go to hell like she deserved. All she could feel was shame.

Like a doll, her mother continued dressing her in a gown too tight for a child; one that clung to her figure enhanced by the corset and slipped over her hips. She had tutted at the coronet, calling it clumsy, as she pulled Nesta’s hair into a tight bun. The hairgrips dug against her scalp as her mother reeled off the price of the dress, the jewels on the clips, her shoes. If Nesta said anything, if she complained that she had not asked for it, her mother would grow upset and tell her that she only wanted the best for her and she was a cruel child who didn’t appreciate her parents’ sacrifices.

Nesta hated herself for the flutter in her heart as her mother settled beside her on the stool and a hand stroked her cheek. Hated how she still craved her approval. Her mother turned her so they looked at their reflection in the mirror together. A small smile tugged at her mother’s lips. Nesta knew now it was not one of love, not truly. She had seen Feyre wear the same expression when she had gazed upon one of her paintings, proud of what she had created. Nesta Archeron: her mother’s warped little creature.

‘There will not be a man in our world who will not fall to his knees for you, my little queen,’ her mother whispered, tenderly touching a finger across the apple of her cheek. ‘Even a fae king would be enchanted by you. You will make me proud tonight.’

It was a demand with no room for failure. There could be flashes of her grandmamma in her mother sometimes; the same rigidity, the utter displeasure when Nesta had failed either woman. At least her mother had never beat her. No, her mother broke her with words instead.

When they departed the bedroom, Nesta expected to see the long corridor leading to the stairs of her old family manor, but they were suddenly walking through a grove of white birch trees warped into an archway, the doorway to her bedroom was gone. It ought to have been beautiful; a faint dusting of sun broke through the trees to illuminate the pathway leading through them. All around Nesta white flowers grew. She could name lily-of-the-valley and snowdrops. Others, she wondered if Elain knew the names of.

‘We mustn’t forget this,’ her mother said, pressing a bouquet into her hands.

Nesta glanced down at the flowers she carried; baby’s breath and roses of pure white. Her mother’s cool hands reached towards her to carefully cover her face with a gossamer veil. She had only seen veils used in the mortal lands for one purpose: a wedding.

No matter how hard Nesta tried to change directions, to jerk herself awake or to invoke any sort of magic to bring her back to the present, there was no escaping this awful nightmare. But every part of it felt real. Her mother’s skin against hers, the warmth of the sun piercing the canopy, the smell of the flowers.

‘He has waited a long time for you,’ her mother murmured softly as a figure on the horizon materialised beside a black lake where seven swans swam across the surface.

Nesta tried to dig her heels into the ground, tried to halt her mother’s marching. Her dress was unfit for the mortal lands; it scooped low on the back and the thin sleeves were almost sheer. The material shrouded her legs like a mist.

‘I do not want this.’

A muscle worked in mother’s jaw. ‘Think of your family, Nesta, of everything we have done for you. Your father would not have found his firebird or armies. Would you want your sisters to have died? Is that what you want, you cruel, wicked girl?’

‘I want to go home,’ she begged. ‘I want to wake up. Please.’

Her mother had to force her forwards a step as if Nesta’s magic had suddenly awakened from slumber and was beginning to jerk itself into action, anchoring her to the path. The male started towards them. Nesta did not need to see his face to know him. She recognised the tall figure and his strange gait as he walked as if he was made from the earth and the wind. His ears were pointed, eyes wholly black as though they could devour galaxies. His hair, so bleached of colour, was white. Tailored in regal black, the male was broad and youthful. Hungrily, he gazed upon his fiancée.

Every instinct screamed at Nesta to run. To rip her mother’s arm from its socket and to never stop running.

‘Nesta,’ he said in acknowledgement.

Her legs threatened to buckle. When he took a step towards her, her mother had gone as though she had never even been there. There was nothing but ancient cruelty filling the void of his eyes. Lanthys had wanted her as a queen to use her power – but Koschei stared at Nesta and saw a feast.

‘Come, queen of queens. Let us be married.’

With effort, Nesta forced herself back a step. Then another. And another.

Her power was surging within her chest, pressing against the sides to try and find a way out. She gritted her teeth and made herself take another step backwards.

‘Remarkable,’ Koschei crooned.

Nesta had not stared down the King of Hybern or Lanyths to die here.

Her magic was a battering ram that ran a vicious assault against the cage Koschei was trying to condemn her to. It rallied itself and thrust outwards, thrashing against this realm between dreams and memories. If she were to see her reflection in that black lake, Nesta knew her eyes would be blazing with silver fire.

Koschei surged forwards to grasp the wispy sleeves of her gown. Malice simmered in his eyes as a rough hand tore away her sleeve from the seams to expose her bare arm.

‘Who marked you? What male marked you?’

His eyes were fixed upon the tattoo banded around her upper arm.

‘Speak his name,’ the death-god demanded.

Nesta thrust any memories, any thoughts of who had given her the tattoo to the darkest depths of her mind. She focused only on the male in front of her. She sang his name over and over. Koschei, Koschei, Koschei. She fixed her gaze only on him, willed herself only to see this male – and no others that mattered to her.

A blisteringly cold hand clamped around her elbow to drag her closer. Even Koschei gritted his teeth in pain at their physical contact. Pain demanded Nesta’s attention where his fingers were branding her skin, but the tattoo inches higher burned like molten gold on her skin, glowing brighter the longer he held her.

The death-god released her arm with a hiss. His own hand was blistered red.

Again, Koschei lunged for her, dragging Nesta to her knees on the rough ground. His fingers bent her wrist towards him while another hand pulled a ring from his pocket.

Nesta tried endlessly to yank her hand back to safety, but the male held her there, ignoring the pain searing up his own skin as he fought to force the ring onto her finger. She balled her hand into a fist, begging any deity who’d listen to save her.

A cry escaped her throat as Koschei snapped the bones in her fingers to straighten them. Tears streamed down her cheek despite her attempts at trying to master herself. The ring, heavy platinum, was wedged onto her trembling, broken fingers.

The moment it touched her skin, it was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. She knew it. Koschei knew it. The tattoo in her arm blazed like an inferno. The metal writhed against her skin as if it were a living thing in great discomfort. Deep, deep down in that abyss within her, Nesta’s magic had concentrated into a dense mass. She gazed up at the death-god still gripping her damaged fingers, his own face contorted with rage watching the ring twist.

I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you.

That memory came to Nesta - a quiet song that reminded her that there was a world of goodness that she wanted to be part of. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to love.

The platinum ring warped and cracked until it shattered like glass then the barricade of her power fell. Another voice, sharp and cunning, pressed to the forefront of her mind. When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds.

Then, Nesta erupted.

[bonny-kookoo]

Heart Shot: 5

In which Jungkook finds a broken and partially dismantled Android, and does what every normal person would do.

Take it home.

Tags/warnings: Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077, Fixer Kim Seokjin, Ex Corpo Jung Hoseok, Android Taehyung, Android Reader, Android Jimin, Mentions of Prostitution, Illegal activity, drugs and drug usage, Discussion of Past Abuse, Night city, min holly, yes that is a warning, Body modifications, graphic description of violence, Blood, Murder, Ripper doc!Yoongi, Ripper Doc!Seokjin, Ex Nomad!Jungkook, Oppression, Minor Character Death, Guns, Graphic Description of Corpses, social anxiety/phobia, panic attacs, ah yes I'm back at it again aren't I, Smut, because of course, protected intercourse you know me, MTBA

A/N: small chap. Really only a lil' character development. 1.3k.

  -----

Jungkook hates going outside.

It's been a clear thing right from the start for you, and you've never questioned it. Maybe it was because you were convinced that it wasn't something that should concern you- but nowadays, you've started to stray away from seeing him as your master or owner, but rather as a person all disconnected from these titles. He was a friend, someone who picked you up, fixed you, and gave you a second chance in life. You were grateful, yes- but you were not tied to him. It became clearer every single day. But then again, you liked his company. He was a very sweet person to be around, easy going and not too talkative. Albeit a bit impish at times, he was a good hearted kid, never filled with ill intentions like so many others living in Night City. It was a real miracle the city didn't swallow him whole yet.

Now, even before, Jungkook had never been a very social kind of person. But then it happened- the riot, the panic, the mass shootings he got caught up in as a young boy- and it had melted some of his braincells to the point of no return, like Yoongi loves to explain it. He's terrified of crowds now, rather taking the route of the rooftops and other platforms above the grounds; more dangerous, yes, but also less chances of encountering anybody up there. He loves to be high up in the skies, likes the control he has over himself and his actions whenever he jumps from one top to another, enjoys the freedom he has up there.

You've by now come to navigate the city quite well- not allowed to drive yet, but then again, you don't like driving anyways all that much. You rather go by foot, picking up some smaller things for Yoongis shop, or groceries for Jungkook at home. By now, even Taehyung joins you sometimes- but not today, as you're walking downtown to meet up with someone who had sold some scraps to Yoongi for a good price. The weather is dry and dusty, your black shoes already having picked up a way lighter color from all the dirt blowing around. Entering the shop, you cough a little before you walk up to the countertop where a man is doing something with his back turned towards you. "Hello." You simply call out, as the man turns towards you. "I've come from Yoongi's. Here to pick up something he paid for." You say, and the man nods, getting up to put a package on the counter.

"You sure you can carry that doll?" He rasps out, and you nod- even though you're unsure if you can take it all the way home in one go. "Alright then, have it your way. Don't get shot on'ya way." He chuckles, patting your shoulder before he goes back to what he was doing. You take the package onto your back for now, struggling to open the doors for a moment, before they open themselves; some dust and a scent of sickening sweet bubblegum flowing your way.

"Oh?" You hear, a voice you don't recognize. You simply thank whoever it is under your breath, ducking underneath their arm who's holding the door before you finally make your way outside, looking from one side to the other to navigate where to go next. You walk a few meters like this before your back grows painful, so you set it down and sit down on it, calling up Yoongi.

"Hey- got ripped off?" He asks with a little amusement.

"No, but what is all of this?" You whine, and Yoongi notices just how emotionally expressive you've become by now. "It's heavy Yoongi, I'm gonna need a bit of time to get it back. Just so you don't worry." You tell him.

"Or you can bring it back and ask him to keep it until tomorrow. I can pick it up myself then." He says.

"No." You say. "That's.. no, thats embarrassing Yoongi, going back and- no, I'll carry it home, don't worry." You say. "Jungkook has given me a little money. Maybe I can take the subway home." You tell him.

"Alright. Can't argue with you anyways." The young man grumbles, before you can hear his dog bark in the background. "But give me updates along the way yeah? Stay safe." He tells you, and you agree, before ending the call, and sitting on the package for a moment, before you begin to carry it again. Its not long until a motorbike pulls up next to you, white and pink paintjob covered in stickers that reflect the streetlights glowing around you.

You're about to pick up your pace when the package slips from your back, making you fall front first onto the ground below. "Oh my, you okay?" Someone laughs as they walk up to you, squatting down to help you up. It's a man, not much older than Jungkook you assume, while having a little more feminine features than him. "Don't worry, not'gonna blow your head off doll." He says almost softly when your eyes land on the kitsch-pink colored Handgun strapped to his hip, equally as reflective as the paint on his bite- and the leather material of his pants. "Where' you off to? Lemme take you." He offers, and you bite the inside of your cheek, still sitting on the ground.

"I'm not sure I should tell you." You say, and he looks a bit surprised, before he grins widely, laughing a bit to himself with a tilt of his head, as if amused to no ends. "I have no guns or knowledge in using them. You could easily overpower me for all I know." You tell him with an honest face, and he nods- this time however, with an almost somber look.

"'s why you shouldn't ever tell anyone that, doll." He says. "Come on now, lemme take you. Here-" He says, before putting his gun into your hands, the metal warm yet heavy in your palm as you look up at him. "For security. But don't drop it please, paintjob did cost me a bunch." He tells you with a wink before he picks up the package and straps it onto the back of his bike. He sits up, scoots back a bit, and pats the black leather seating in front of him. "Come on now, or I'm running off with your goods." He smirks, and you sit down in front of him, one hand on the middle of the steering handles while the other still holds onto his gun. "And don't get a scratch on it, doll." He almost purrs into your ear, making your cheeks feel hot as he suddenly starts driving. You've never driven on a bike before- and escpecially not this fast, you realize, as the city lights start to begin to swim like colors in a rain puddle- unrecognizable as the pass you two. You can see how the neon lights reflect in his pink hair in his side mirrors, before averting your eyes when his own meet yours for a second. He's, despite the speed, a pretty stable driver however- not making you uncomfortable, you begin to realize. "Having fun?" He asks, as you recognize his voice from the store a few hours ago. You nod, leaning back a little as you stand still at a red light, and he leans down to listen to what you want to say.

"I'ts my first time." You say, and he grins a bit impishly, before you turn red, shaking your head. "Riding a bike, I mean!" You press out, making him laugh as he continues driving with a smile on his plush lips.

"Have heard both before." He simply says, and you try to sit still on his bike while he drives, directing him to Yoongi's shop. "Oh? You work for the grumpy guy?" He wonders as he puts out the kickstand for his bike, unstrapping the package. "Never thought he'd take in streetcats." He mumbles, before he notices your expression. "Well- you ARE a former Lovetoy, no?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"I am, but I don't remember much." You explain, as you watch him carry the package with ease- even though his physique, or at least what you can see, doesn't give out much strength. He looks rather feminine, while still able to maintain a certain masculinity within that it makes you wonder a bit how he pulls it off. "His friend, Jungkook, found me and they fixed me to the state I am now." You explain, and the man nods.

"Hm, I see." He simply nods, letting you lead the way. "Makes sense why you're so open and friendly. Not good here in Night City, just as a small advice from me." He tells you. "Makes you easy prey. Don't let the dogs out there smell your innocence." He says, before the gate opens, Yoongi's tired face appearing.

"Why the fuck are you with her of all people?" He grumbles, but with a small smile on his lips.

"And here I was thinking you'd be happy to see me." The pink haired man sighs dramatically. "What a shame." He finishes, putting the package down on the ground before cracking his neck. "Tae not in?" He wonders, and Yoongi shrugs.

"No, had some stuff to do." Yoongi replies, before his hand is placed on your shoulder to lead you to the table. "Come on, lets do your check before you dash out on me again." He says, as you whine, but comply nonetheless.

"You two seem cozy." The young man smirks, sitting down on the table next to you. "Kinda jealous, not gonna lie." He says with a grin towards you.

"Jimin, stop this or else everyone's gonna think I'm as much of a whore as you are." Yoongi comments, as The man- Jimin, pouts, before leaning into you, the sweet smell embracing you simultaneously at his bodily contact.

"As if I give a shit about YOUR affection you walking corpse, I was jealous of YOU, not her!" He whines. "She's so cute, kinda wanna steal her." He says, an impish look on his face as you turn red again.

"Yah, stop that you pervert!" Yoongi laughs, hitting Jimin's head with a rag playfully, before he connects a cable from your hand to his own system.

"Oh?" Jimin suddenly says. "Almost all her organs are artificial. Damn." He says, this time voice a lot more deep and serious- even his face looks a lot more somber at the view. Yoongi simply nods and shrugs.

"Seems like she had them replaced one by one over the course of time. God knows why- I certainly don't wanna know." He mumbles as he types away, checking things. "And she definitely doesn't need to either." He says.

Jimin nods at that, pulling you close towards him as if he needed the comfort more than you. You're wondering why he's so physical- but then again, he seems to know a lot about people, considering that he always tends to move away once he notices you tense up even just a little. However, even though you technically do not know him, he seems like an easy-to-like kind of person- and it also helps that Yoongi seems very easy going and familiar with him as well. "I got my spine and some glibber changed too, so we're basically similar on that department." He tells you, and you simply nod, leaning a bit into him. "Don't get too comfy now pretty, I got somewhere to be in a hot minute." He chuckles, making you instantly lean away and straighten up again in your seat. "Hey wait!"

"Right decision." Yoongi says. "He's a whore, who knows what kind of STD's he's carrying- rather not get close." Yoongi jokes, making Jimin gasp dramatically.

"You're just as bad, or do I need to remind you of-"

At that, Yoongi suddenly jumps up from his seat, pushing the now laughing Jimin off the table next to you and starts shoving him out the door. "And that's your cue to LEAVE you streetscum, get out!" He barks although a bit chuckling, while Jimin waves happily before shouting something similar to a farewell, you assume.

It's only later that you remember the heavy iron in the pocket of your jacket.

You still have his gun.

[mindninjax]

Iron and Wine (4)

Chapter 4- Two Blue Eyes

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Erwin Smith x fem!reader (Royalty AU)

Warnings: They/them pronouns used for Hange, Miche literally almost charming the panties off of you, some minor character death, I'm not gonna ruin the surprise just know some of you will be disgusted with me and others will be thrilled lololol

WC: 5.1K

a/n: I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I changed so much shit around in this chapter because this is where it gets REAL. I think I've finally got what I want to happen from this point on locked and loaded though. Writing it may be a different story because this month is gonna get a lil busy for me. s/o to @lazyezstudy and @charlotteplsdosth for being sweet little darlings. 💖I'll dedicate this chapter to you.😘

Erwin’s eyes scan the horizon once more as the fluttering wings of the raven in the rookery rustles his hair. It’s been two weeks and there’s been no word from Abel or Keiji. They’ve never gone this long without sending word back which can only mean trouble. Erwin chews his lip nervously, creasing his brow as he racks his brain. What should he do? Send more men to find the two he lost? That would be a wise decision, if he had men to send. A raven flutters down next to him and he pets the head with one finger, gently.

What could have hindered Abel and Keiji from checking in? A tingle in his gut hints at the answer, but he doesn’t dare give voice to it. It’s a bad omen and he’d rather spend energy preparing than worrying. He continues scribbling the messages onto the slip of parchment and ties it to the raven sitting next to him before releasing it toward the North. He lifts a finger to beckon two more birds down to him, attaches the other messages, and lets one free toward the South and the other toward the West.

There’s still the issue of the agreement or lack thereof with you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed you last night. Though he will admit it was entertaining.

The sound of shuffling feet breaks him from his concentrated stupor and he turns to see Miche and Hange approaching. Miche’s large broad shoulders block the doorway to the stairwell as he fills the entryway and blocks Hange from sight. He bows respectfully before reporting.

“Sire, the war council has gathered in the war room. They are awaiting your presence.” Erwin watches the flapping wings of the raven he just released silently. He doesn’t turn around when he speaks.

“Miche, you’ve been in the presence of my special guest. How do you like her?” he asks as if asking about the clouds donning the skies. Miche gulps and blinks quickly in confusion.

“You’re asking me if I like her?” he repeats, trying to be sure.

“Yes. It’s no secret she is a beauty. Even Levi seems to have noticed. So tell me, what has your nose told you about her?” Erwin says simply. He turns to look into his comrade’s large honest eyes.

“Erm, well she smells of fresh grass and wood, moss and clear spring water with a hint of some sweet flower I’ve been having trouble identifying. I’ve only smelled it once or twice in my life, but it was so lovely I never forgot it. But…” Miche trails off as he watches Erwin raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“It’s fading… that scent is fading from her the longer she’s here,” Miche finishes quickly. He sets his face in a confident smooth expression and looks into the king’s eyes.

Erwin matches his serious and confident expression, “Are you suggesting I let her go?” he asks slowly, enunciating each word.

“No, your majesty,” he drops his eyes, regretful. Erwin sighs and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t. Forgive me, I am just at a loss of what to do. It’s obvious the lioness doesn’t trust me and no matter what I give her she won’t change her mind. There is still no word from Abel and Keiji. I've sent ravens to Pixis in the North and Shadis in the South. War will be on our shores in months and I don’t have the support of my people, and decreasing numbers of soldiers thanks to famine and this petty war with the forest savages my father started,” he cards his fingers through his hair and runs a hand over his face. Miche can tell the stress of the situation is getting to him. A

“Erwin, perhaps you’re going about this agreement with the woman in the wrong way,” Hange speaks up then, pushing past Miche and clapping Erwin on the shoulder.

“Well you’re part of my damn counsel, so counsel me,” Erwin replies, giving a tired chuckle.

“You plucked a wild woman who’s people you just referred to as ‘forest savages’—it’s probably wise not to say that in front of her— from her home in the forest and put her in a castle expecting her to be enthralled with all the riches,” Hange explains holding out their hands in an animated expression as if the rest of the point is clear before them. When Erwin stares blankly at them and they sigh as if he’s hopeless and continues.

“It’s clear she’s not impressed by it, so why not show her something she will be impressed with? Something she’ll actually enjoy but can’t find in her forest village. If you can show her that you’re actually paying attention, she may be more inclined to join us. Moblit mentioned she was quite pleasant to him and she seems to have taken to Historia quickly.”

Erwin ponders their words for a moment and Hange knocks a fist against their own head as they try to think of something here in the castle that might impress you. Miche’s green eyes look between the two of them before he sighs deeply and grunts in a deep voice, “The private gardens.”

“Great idea big guy!” Hange says, clapping their hands together.

Erwin smiles at both of them, then takes a deep breath. He turns to look out at the horizon again, hoping to catch a glance of a raven. When he doesn't, he turns back to Miche and says, “OK then, I’m entrusting the lioness to you, Miche. Show her the gardens, make sure she actually enjoys it. Hange, you’ll join me in the war room. It seems we’ll have some things to discuss.”

“I’ve been sent to escort you to the king’s private gardens, my lady.”

A large blonde man whom Historia whispers and informs you is named Miche Zachariaus, bows before you as you swing open the door. You recognize him instantly. He’s the strong one who carried you away after your first talk with Erwin. You take a moment to scrutinize him before responding. Everything about him is large. His chest is broad, his shoulders wide and strong, he could probably fit 10 bundles of wood on his back and carry them with ease. He is handsome as well, no doubt part of Erwin’s plan. As if you’d be swayed by a man’s looks, though you do quietly and begrudgingly thank him for the nice view. He’s not wearing his armor which you find alarming. He either doesn’t see you as a threat or his skills are far beyond any you’ve known or witnessed and that also puts you on edge. You decide to be polite.

“I humbly decline,” you say in a small voice. As you’re about to close the door, his large hand stops it and pushes it back open. He looks almost desperate and you furrow your brows in confusion as you look back up to him.

“Please, my lady. I implore you to reconsider. I’m aware most of the luxuries have not been to your liking but this I'm sure you will enjoy,” Miche says, holding out a hand for you to grab. Your eyes shift back and forth from his outstretched hand and up to his gentle green eyes. He looks hopeful, like he really hopes you’ll take his hand. You hear Historia’s soft footsteps behind you.

“I’ve never seen the king’s personal garden. You should go, it’ll be beautiful. Ser Miche won’t hurt you. He’s very gentle and kind,” she whispers to you.

You give her a teasing smirk as you whisper over your shoulder back to her, “You’ve said that about everyone here.”

“Well I haven’t been wrong, have I?” she huffs and pokes out her lip in a cute pout.

“Only once,” you say, remembering the night Erwin came to your room. Miche clears his throat to remind you of his presence and you smile back up at him. “Would she be permitted to come with me?” you ask, nodding your head in Historia’s direction.

“You can invite anyone you’d like, my lady,” Miche responds and Historia’s eyes light up in excitement. You try to hide the smile tickling the edges of your lips and swallow the excitement at the thought of seeing the gardens.

“Very well then,” you say, grasping his hand.

The garden is breathtakingly beautiful. It’s as if it’s located in another world. It smells wonderful, not at all like the moldy castle corridors or the stench of burning fire and metal that drifts in your window from the castle town below. The sun rays kiss the green leaves of each plant and the array of colors each flower offers is more beautiful than any you've ever witnessed in your village.

When Miche opens the heavy iron gates, you’re at a loss for words. There’s a cobblestone path that leads to a grand white marble fountain in the middle of the garden. Multiple paths break off in different directions showcasing different plants. Vines climb up the walls and cover the stone, butterflies and bees frequent the flowers, and it surprises you how much this one little place reminds you of home.

There’s no stopping the bright smile that bursts onto your face and stays there while you gaze around in fascination. Historia is next to you, matching your bewildered expression and when the two of you meet each other's eyes you both laugh in amusement and happiness. Your laughter echoes through the garden and mixes with the babbling water of the fountain, a glorious little melody. Miche is watching you with a warm-hearted smile and you catch him ogling you from the entrance. You try to pull yourself together as you watch HIstoria wander off and Miche closes the gate behind him and comes to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Would you like a tour?” he suggests and you look at him in shock.

“There’s more?” you breathe and he chuckles a deep rumbling noise before holding out his arm. You hesitate again looking at his outstretched hand with suspicion. He doesn’t take it personally, a man as large and strong as him doesn’t have much to worry about, but he does give you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, my lady there is more. I thought you’d like to see all the gardens have to offer,” he replies, gesturing to the entirety of the courtyard. You blink in astonishment.

“This was your idea? How did you know I’d-”

“Your scent is strong. You smell like the trees and a sweet flower. I've been trying to figure out the name since you’ve arrived,” he says matter of factly. He turns to you then and reaches out slowly to grab the braid sitting on your shoulder. You surprise yourself when you don’t move away from him, but the fact that this was his idea, that he mentioned your scent, makes you feel more at ease around him.

“May I?” he says, green eyes drifting to yours. His long lashes brush against his cheeks and his deep voice rumbles through his body when he speaks.

“You wish to...smell my hair?”

“Yes, if you would permit me to do so,” he says politely. Again you look at him with suspicion, but nod to let him know it is ok to move closer to you.

Your eyes stay glued to him as he crouches and brings the long braid up to his nose and inhales deeply. He drags it up and down your hair, inhaling and exhaling with a deep pleasurable sigh after each breath. His eyes are closed as he focuses on the scent, mumbling words to himself.

“Pine...a hint of lemongrass...cedar wood...ugh the perfume overpowers the natural scent… and there that flower again...what is it?” He switches back and forth from sniffing your hair and sniffing the sweet air of the gardens. He’s quite amusing to watch and you smile to yourself as his shaggy hair falls over his eyes when he bends down to sniff you again.

Suddenly his eyes shoot open and he turns to face a path leading away from the fountain. He grabs your hand slowly, his large fingers wrapping around yours and swallowing it completely and strolls down the path looking back and forth between the colorful petals. He momentarily stops to sniff the air again before taking turns in the maze of plants until he comes across a hedge of thick green bushes and vines.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” You ask him, gesturing to the huge hedge in front of you sarcastically. He doesn’t respond, only bends down on one knee and reaches into the hedge. You try to pull him back, the hedge houses many thorns definitely as a means to keep people out of that area.

“No, don't! You’ll hurt your–“

He pulls his hand from the wall of thorns, bloody and pin pricked but holding the loveliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s pure white and unphased by the thorns or by Miche pulling it from its hiding place. You’re stunned by its beauty and it’s perfect white petals. He hands it to you and smiles a big joyous grin.

“How did you–“

“I’ve always had a good nose. I knew I’d smelled this plant before. Once near the edges of the forest. And then again when you were brought before Erwin. There were hints of it here, but it doesn’t seem to belong here. I figure it’s only natural to give it to you considering…” He doesn’t finish this sentence, not wanting to rub dirt in the wound of you being forced from your home. The flower make tears well in your eyes and you quickly swipe them away before he can see them.

You take the flower from him and bring it to your nose, the scent immediately reminding you of home and the huge field that has many of these swaying in the breeze. “It’s a moon blossom. They bloom at night or in dark places under the moon. It’s a symbol of growth in dark times,” you explain to him.

He nods in understanding. “I’d like to think…” he starts grabbing the flower from you again and moving to place it gently into your hair, “that it represents you, thriving and standing beautifully despite being so far from home.” His finger skims across your cheek as he fixes your hair. He’s definitely a charmer and he flashes you a cute boyish grin that you can’t help but return. His charm is genuine and you snicker as he steps back to look you over.

“Are you attempting to woo me?” you ask playfully.

“No. If I were, my lady, I’d tell you that there’s not a flower in this garden that compares to the beauty you possess. And that the dullest of days would shine brighter, for the sun would be envious of your presence and beauty.”

He finishes his sentence with a bow and a soft but pointed kiss on the palm of your hand. You can feel the prickle of his moustache in your hand and paired with his soft lips and warm breath, it sends a shiver up your spine.

The moment his lips leave your palm, your heart is thumping. You can still feel the warmth of the kiss on your skin and it radiates all over your body, culminating at the apples of your cheeks. You watch as his smile turns smug much to your chagrin, you turn away to hide the smile creeping at the edges of your lips.

“Alright then, I see now why the king sent you to escort me,” you say, clearing your throat. He chuckles in a deep baritone and holds his arm out to continue escorting you through the gardens.

“He’s very interested in you,” Miche replies, looking down at you as the two of you stroll.

You roll your eyes, “I bet he is,” you say remembering the way Erwin pinned you to the wall, his lips on your neck and jaw.

“Truly my lady, In all the years of knowing him, I’ve never seen him so entranced before,” he replies, watching as you let go of his arm to sniff a large drooping pink flower. Entranced, a pretty way of saying “kidnapping”, but something else he says catches your attention.

“How long have you known him?” you ask, curiosity painting your features.

“Since we were boys. I was a stablehand in the town right outside the castle walls. Erwin wasn’t king then but he snuck out of the castle to spend time with me. He taught me to read, taught me how to use a sword, and helped me become a knight under his father’s rule. He took care of my family when the food supply started running out, gave them jobs in the castle when he became King.”

He looks ahead as if he’s picturing all the events unfolding in front of him. You shrug your shoulders. Of course his best man would speak great things about him. Erwin is the King, it’s treason to speak ill about him. Though you will admit, this isn’t the first time you’ve heard of him helping out one of the people in the castle. You remember Historia telling you he found her in her village.

“What about Historia? She mentioned he found her in her village. Did he steal her too? She is a beauty,” you challenge, raising your eyebrow.

“Ahh the little lady, very sad story. The King happened upon her village after it had been raided by barbarians. There didn’t seem to be any survivors, the houses were burnt down, blood and carnage all over. He was returning from battle and stopped the entire army to search for survivors. She was the only one. Erwin brought her back to the castle, dressed her wounds and let her stay,” he explains.

You’re shocked but try to keep it hidden. You don’t think Miche is lying to you, it would be foolish. You could just ask Historia and if the story matched you’d know it was true. But there’s something about the way Miche speaks with admiration, loyalty, and genuine respect for Erwin when he tells the story that cements the truth.

It confuses you, the wolf king’s actions. The battles between your people and his to keep him out of the forest and away from the precious metals you know he’s after, the way he neglected his people despite them dying in the streets from famine while he sits in his castle and gorges himself on delicacies, it makes no sense. If he were as compassionate as Miche is suggesting he would never do these things. But there must be some truth to it, the Mother protects him. What does she see?

You're left to the many questions in your head as another guard approaches you and Miche and whispers something quickly in his ear. He nods once then turns to you and bows.

“My apologies my lady, but I’m needed elsewhere. Gelgar will escort you and Historia back to your chambers,” he says, grasping your hand and giving it a final kiss before departing.

You thank him and watch him turn a corner out of the garden maze as Gelgar gestures to have you walk in front of him and inform you that Historia is waiting back at the fountain. You nod and walk past him.

You suppose it’s time to stop being stubborn and finally read the documents Erwin left for you. If it means you’ll get out of here sooner, you’ll oblige. Perhaps more answers about the type of man Erwin truly is will be shown to you after you’ve read them.

The ravens reach Shadis and Pyxis in a matter of days and when they return it is not with good news. The number of men is less than what he expected to hear and more continue to drop from starvation as they speak. It has become increasingly more difficult to keep control over the North and South as the people grow weary and delirious with starvation. Pyxis and Shadis both report the same instances, talk of the lioness coming to bring them food and prosperity and good fortune as she did in Castle Town.

Lord Pyxis, ever the wise and kind old man and one of Erwin’s father's old friends, writes of the hope it instills in the people. He hopes that someone will come soon to help with this famine and the people are greatly appreciative of his faith. Shadis on the other hand is cold and views the whispers in the streets as a betrayal, a rise of another rebellion. He forbids any talk of you or the “nonsense” you would inflict upon his people.

Erwin scans the words on the notes from the two lords as Hange sits next to him, hands intertwined underneath their chin.

“Well it’s nice to know the people are of one mind. But Erwin, if we can’t get the lioness to agree we have no hope in helping anyone,” they say in a slurry of words. Erwin can tell their mind is working, filtering through the different possibilities.

“I have faith in Miche. She wants to help the people in this kingdom and she wants to keep her home safe and from invaders,” Erwin says, shuffling through many pieces of parchment on the table. He picks up a stained crumpled piece and glares at it. “And this will surely be a driving factor in her decis--”

The door to the war room bursts open as you stomp into the room, parchment gripped tightly in your hand. The lavender dress flows dramatically behind you as you drift into the room, drawing the attention of everyone present. Miche is behind you, desperately trying to keep up with your quickened pace as he flashes an apologetic frown and slight bow of the head to Erwin. You’re shaking with rage, head held high as you walk into the room with purpose. Your eyes are fixed on Erwin at the head of the table and you can hear the commanders whisper to themselves about your disrespect.

Erwin does not look bothered, rather amused as you come to stand before him and slam the parchment down on the big table in front of him. The goblets and war figurines tremble and topple over.

“What is the meaning of this?” You scream.

“Ahh my lady, I see you’ve read the document sent to the Beast across the sea.”

“This spews lies and deceit, we are not one kingdom, we do not fight as one. And I am not going to negotiate to share any of the fruits of my labor with you or this beast from the west!”

Erwin stands wordlessly and the others in the room immediately stand with him. He walks slowly around the table to grab pieces of parchment that sit in front of Hange. His face is no longer pleasant, but serious with a dark glint behind his glare. The pieces of parchment are wrinkled and stained with what you assume is blood. He holds them in his fist and hands them to you, nodding his head to encourage you to take them from him.

You do so, snatching them in a huff and uncrinkling them to read the neat scrawled handwriting. Your eyes scan through the first few words before Erwin’s voice rings out into the war room and demands “Read it aloud.”

You glare again at him before clearing your throat and reading the message aloud:

Greetings King Erwin, Wolf of the East. I am sure you and your war counsel have heard of me as they are tasked with keeping tabs on your enemies. I am not sure how much information your comrades Abel and Keiji gave you before I captured them but I can only assume they’ve completed their tasks remarkably. I can only imagine how thorough and intelligent you are King Erwin, as I've done my research on you as well.

I’ve received your letter, your partner sounds lovely but I have no interest in arrangements or agreements. I will simply take what I want: your lands, your resources, your people as that is what a conqueror would do. As I’m sure you already know, it is well within my power to do so. We will meet you in battle and crush you. I hope you will not take offense as you must be familiar with the rules of war. How many kingdoms have you crushed under your golden boot?

You drop the parchment, thinking it silly to continue with the self assured words of this foreign enemy. “You’re afraid of a cocky self assured bastard from across the sea? And I thought you to be a King.”

“Keep reading.”

“Why? It’s just nonse-”

“I said, keep reading.” Erwin’s voice is dangerous now, anger swelling inside him and you'd never admit aloud but it kind of frightens you.

You are probably wondering what has become of your loyal men, why they haven’t reported back in weeks? You're probably wondering what to tell their families, their wives and children if they have them. Well you’ll be happy to know I am a gracious war chief. I’d want to know what happened to my men as well. So I will tell you every detail of how your men suffered, until they took their last breath so you may explain to their wives and children as they wail in sorrow. And you may have what’s left of them, to bury or burn or whatever it is you do with your unfortunate dead. Their heads will stay here with me though, as my trophies. The details of their deaths are included in the lovely gifts I’ve sent you.

Best regards your majesty, and I look forward to seeing you when I land upon your shores.”

The note is signed with one name, “Zeke” in neat penmanship. Below that is what looks like a recipe, numbered steps and as you scan through them quietly you realize it is a step-by-step process of how the two men were killed. It is gruesome, horrific, unnecessarily cruel and you don’t have the stomach to finish reading it to yourself let alone aloud. You slam the parchment down on the table and look away. The other pages scatter and Erwin glowers at them.

“Did you see the diagrams, my lady? The diagrams of how he butchered my men? Or was the step by step process too much for you?”

“I don’t underst-”

“This letter came back attached to a bloody sack that held the maniac slaughtered remains of my men. This was a message my lady, a show of power. This… was Zeke’s way of telling me he will slaughter all who are in his path and he will not lose sleep over it,” his voice grows in volume and anger and soon it’s booming and echoing through the entire room.

“So you see, my lady I am no longer interested in the petty qualms of the past between our people. I no longer care about the hate your parents held for my father or the hate you have for me. What I care about is making sure this beast pays for what he’s done. And that he will never get his hands on any of the precious resources this land has to offer. So correct me if I'm wrong in assuming that we have the same goal.”

There is silence as Erwin stands before you now, scowling at you. He’s so close that your heaving breasts hit his chiseled abs as you stand there challenging him with your shoulders squared and your chin held high.

The silence stretches out into an awkward staring competition that you refuse to lose. The tension in the room could be sliced with a knife but your eyes never leave his crystal glare. For the first time, you can see past his brave mask. He’s confused, hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable and your hard icy stare warms the longer you look at him. You almost forget who he is and reach out to caress and comfort him but you lock your jaw and keep your hands clasped in a fist at your side.

“It’s different when it’s your men being slaughtered by a foreign enemy, isn't it?”

That catches him off guard and the anger slowly releases from him as you look around the room, looking at each of the advisors standing slack jawed at the exchange between the two of you. You look back to Erwin, determination on your face now.

“Seems we have a lot to discuss. When will the beast be here?”

Erwin sighs in relief, loud enough for everyone to hear and Levi scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at the show of weakness. “Nanaba estimates three months.”

“Perfect, that will be plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what? I need your decision, we need to start preparing,” Erwin says watching you look at the little figurines on the war table. You scan the map past the forest to the west where the blue coloring indicates the sea.

“This isn’t a decision for me to make alone.”

“What are you talking about? You’re their leader, are you not?” Erwin looks confused and slightly annoyed but no one in the room dares to speak up while the two of you converse.

You turn to look at him now, head held high. Your voice is strong and serious, like you’re stating the law of the land for all to hear. “Everyone has a voice and it should be heard. If you wish to have a decision, we will take this before my people and they will decide. Before you do, you will partake in living with us, learn our ways, drink with us, eat with us, celebrate and worship with us. And should they decide to accept your request, we shall solidify the deal underneath the full moon. It is in three days.”

You chuckle to yourself and though Erwin is still frustrated he can feel it slowly leaving him with every soft sound escaping you.

“What is it?” he asks, moving closer and looking into your eyes again.

“I suppose now you’ll be my house guest and I promise to be a better host than you.”

--

Tagging: @forlancasterrr @starstruckkittensweets @lazyezstudy @neptvnia @laceylaceyy @unadulteratedtreecrusade @gixxie @jeanbeaux @throughthethorns @casspea @charlotteplsdosth @melyannathemaia @saturnalya @ixwrites @mythical-goth

[erectionsandtea]

Roller rink skate date headcanons! (poly party) insp. by this post, for @mike-wheeler-is-gay (I know you wanted byler specifically and I usually write poly party, but I tried to stick some extra byler in here for you, I hope I did it justice and that you like it!)

So many paragraphs this should really just be a fic, I'm sorry

- Mike is super tall and gangly is absolutely the worst skater in the party (tied only with Lucas, who put on his very first pair of skates and promptly fell on his face and they weren't even on the rink yet, they were still on the carpet area)

- the moment Mike steps into the actual skating floor, he falls bc he's tall gangly uncoordinated Mike, and Will is just standing there rolling his eyes, like "babe, you're a mess" but he doesn't mind bc it means he gets to hold Mike's hand (and hold Mike in general) while he helps his bf balance and skate

- and Mike is like "I don't deserve you, why are you even with me, I'm so awkward" (poor self deprecating bby), and you know Will would respond with "are you kidding, you're amazing, why are YOU with ME?" (also a self deprecating bby), but then he falls and pulls Will down with him (aka on top of him lol)

- and they laugh, and just as their lips touch, the moment is ruined by Max zooming in their direction screaming "get up before you get run over!!" And she manages to avoid them (being the zoomer that she is) but Lucas has to swerve and falls the fuck over ofc (luckily the rink isn't super crowded that day so nobody's in any real danger)

- and Dustin is looking at byler like "this isn't even that hard guys, come on, are you even trying??"

- El and Will have totally been going to the rink (sibling bonding yo) and everyone realizes that's how they got so good bc El is totally the best skater in the group

- except for Suzie who is a skating queen

- El and Suzie totally having races from one end of the rink to the other

- Max totally joining them and they let her win, just once

- Dustin joining them and after he wins twice in a row (pure luck), Max and El pretend cross his path and bump into him, totally fucking him up, and Dustin's just like "are you shitting me?" (but it's all in good fun, everyone knows that)

- El and Max holding hands as El helps her get better at skating, bc Max is decent on skates but better on her skateboard (bc how do you wheels on both feet separately ??) (like skiing vs snowboarding)

- byler doing that thing where holding hands facing each other, and Mike learning how to actually move his feet and skate forward, and that's propelling Will backward (and Will constantly throwing praise at him and Mike grinning so big bc he's doing it! lol)

- Will and Mike holding hands as they slowly skate around the edge of the rink

- Mike needing to stop a moment and grab the wall to keep himself up and steady, and Will coming around in front of him, his hands over Mike's,and they stand there all adorable and then kisses (except Mike has to duck down bc Will cannot stand on his tippy-toes in skates)

- eventually Mike is like "I need a break" (from falling and stuff, tho he has gotten better) and he goes to sit down

- and then El comes over to join him bc "you looked lonely" (he isn't really lonely, he just kind of has a resting bitch face sometimes, tell me I'm wrong, am I actually wrong tho ??)

- they sit together in silence, watching the rest of the group playing some weird skate-tag game (rules at the bottom)

- Mike is watching Will with a smile on his face, laughing and having fun, and he says to nobody, really "what did I ever do to deserve him?"

- El replies "probably whatever I did to deserve you" and they look at each other and smile and then cute lil Mileven kiss

- their hands reach over (cos they are sitting like RIGHT next to each other, no space)

- they continue to sit there, hands clasped, her head on his shoulder, watching the group and sometimes making comments to each other and laughing

- after a while Will comes over to check on his bf and sis) ("I don't know which is more bruised, my knees or my ego" -> Mike, "you're doing really well!" -> El), which is actually kind of nice for El bc she wants to go skate some more but she doesn't want to leave Mike by himself

- before she leaves tho, she wants a kiss, so still holding Mike's hand she gets up and wheels around to face him and grabs his other hand and is like "I want a kiss" bc she's just blunt like that (it's a good thing)

- and mike laughs at her bluntness bc SO CUTE, and so Mike gives her one of those super cute kisses where he puts his hands on the sides of her face, you know? And she has to balance herself by putting her hands on his knees (Sorry, I just had to get a Mileven kiss in here)

(so much detail in those moments ^ I'm...sorry?)

- so Will sits there with Mike, and they hold hands and share kisses and say cute sweet things to each other, and honestly they spend more time looking at each other than anyone/thing else

- Will goes and buys them one giant drink to share bc boys gotta stay hydrated (can someone please draw this or maybe ALL of this idk ??)

- the rest of the group annoys them (but not really) by hanging over the wall and saying "AWWW" super loud and making kissy faces

- and then El comes back over later and says "okay, that's enough sitting down, we're going back skating, come on" and she grabs Mike's hand and Will's hand and tries to pull them up but it's hard bc wheels (like she's about to slip and the boys have to grab her arms to catch her), but the boys comply and go back to the rink floor

- Dustin and Suzie can totally do skate-dancing, whatever that is (and they totally get applause)

- Max skating by everyone so many times and being like "zoomer!" and everyone is like "pls stop, we get it"

- Dustin trying to tell help Lucas how to skate by actually explaining how the skates and the rubber stoppers work, and Lucas not getting it and just being like "can you explain in English please??" And Dustin throws his hands up like "I fucking give up, you're hopeless"

- Max learns how to skate in a small circle (basically just turning around without stepping) and she's super fucking proud of herself and does it constantly

- Max eventually needs to be stopped by El and Lucas bc "babe, you're gonna get so dizzy" (you can decide who says that 😊) but it's too late bc she's already dizzy

- Lucas and El lead Max off the rink floor and she just immediately falls down to sit on the carpet bc so dizzy and El falls down next to her bc hand holding (she gets pulled), and Lucas sits down too

- the girls can't stop laughing and Lucas is looking at them like "tf is wrong with you guys?" (but not really), also he's just smiling at them and laughing with them bc goddamn they are so cute, his girlfriend is the most beautiful girl in the world and seeing her as she is right now just inflates his heart

- eventually Max can't stay upright so she lies back and El follows her and they are just lying there together (Max on her back, El on her side facing Max, no space), giggling so hard, they can't stop laughing for some reason (I think it's bc when one laughs, it makes the other laugh too)

- Max is like "you, boyfriend, kiss" and so Lucas complies

- an employee has to come over and say "you can't lie down here, it's a safety hazard" and Lucas is like "we're sorry, sir" and he's like "babe, we gotta move"

- so he gets the girls up and they bring max to a bench where she can sit, instead of sitting tho, she lies down again, on the bench with her head in El's lap, and then elmax kisses as El plays with her hair

- El and Max basically take over the bench that Mike and Will were sitting on, and they also steal the boys' giant drink (barely a quarter empty) cos hydration

- Will and Mike trying to kiss while not holding the wall, but fucking down AnD having his eyes closed throws Mike way off balance bc what a klutz, and then he falls and Will is fuckin laughing and he feels bad but also it's funny

- so then Will gets down too (more gracefully but lbr, anyone can be more graceful than Mike, without even trying) and is like "it's okay, we can do this here" and then sitting kisses

- El trying to help Mike but she's having too much fun and ends up just speeding around while Mike tries to catch up with her, and she has to keep going back for him

- Mike feeling kind of embarrassed bc his gf is amazing while his own skating is questionable, and he confides this to her and is like "why are you with me, I'm so clumsy and awkward" (self deprecating again), but El makes him feel better by telling him that she's with him bc she loves him and actually she thinks it's kind of cute that he's not that good at skating and she likes being the one who helps him for once (bc he's helped her for so long with so much)

- and then Mike gives her one of his lil mike-smiles (you know the one I mean, like the one right after he kisses her for the very first time, in season 1)

- and then a Mileven kiss, but Mike almost loses his balance again like he did with the byler kiss, but El can sense it's about to happen and has to break their kiss to hold him up (she's holding both his hands, fingers intertwined), but it's okay, they just smile at each other share a little laugh at the situation and how uncoordinated he is, and they scoot their skates really close together in a sort-of huh type thing

- arcade games after!! (But I'll put that in its own separate post 😄)

- rules to the weird skate-tag game: 1) the wall is the safe zone, but you can only stay there for 10 seconds at a time 2) you cannot untouch the wall for one second and then go back to touching it for 10 seconds, you have to actually leave the wall and skate (HOWEVER you can try to skate from the wall on one end of the rink to the wall at the other end) 3) you are allowed to skate around the edge while touching the wall, as long as you only do so for no more than 10 seconds 4) whoever is 'it' cannot hover around those on the wall 5) crashing into someone does not count as tagging them 6) no tag backs

~

I tried to get equal parts of all the ships in this one but I know I failed miserably, I'm so sorry lol (clearly you can tell who I ship the most)

If you want to add more (I will if I think of any), send me ideas, or request anything, please feel free! 😀👍🏻

[taehyungsgrowl]

uhhhh duncan in prison angst 👀👀

hey 👋🏽

i’m sorry this took me so long to answer! but i did make a lil moodboard to go w it :•)

also i've written quite a bit of angst lately so this will be a little angsty, but also smutty.

long distance(?) old school version of sexting, really

hope y'all enjoy!

(yes, i did just discover the indention feature!)

warnings: angst if you squint, h*rny love letters, prisoners cat calling y/n, aaaand smut

word count: 3.5 k (i really don't know how this was supposed to be less than 1,000)

i don't love how this came out but the idea kept floating around in my head so i wanted to share!

Y/N didn't think what started as a harmless little experiment would show her just how powerful words could be.

She scrolled through row after row of photos on the 'write a prisoner' website on a boring evening just for something to do. And now each time she got a letter in the mail from him, her stomach would flutter.

Her finger stopped mid scroll as she came across the photo of the scruffy faced man with cheekbones carved by the gods and eyes clearer than the skies.

Duncan Shepherd.

Her eyes scanned his profile, learning that he was being held in a minimum security prison out of D.C for numerous white collar crimes, including bribery and extortion. He listed his interests as fine arts and finer wines. He'd be out for parole soon but was looking for a way to pass his time in prison.

Out of the hundreds of prisoners Y/N had scrolled past, none of them held her interest like Duncan.

It started off innocently enough. She grabbed a piece of paper from her drawer and her favorite pen and wrote him a simple introduction letter. Even if Duncan didn't seem like a dangerous or violent criminal, she felt a sense of adrenaline in writing him.

Duncan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I like to imagine you get a lot of mail sent to you. I read on your profile that you're a fan of the arts, I'd love to know more about you and what kind of art you enjoy. Truth is, I don't even know why I'm doing this, but figured prison must be lonely so I hope this helps pass the time.

I included a print of one of my favorite pieces of art to hopefully liven up your cell.

All the best,

Y/N

Y/N knew it wasn't much to start off with, but she had no clue what to send to a strange she knew next to nothing about. She printed off a print of one of Monet's Water Lillies and sealed it in an envelope with her first letter.

She let herself forget she sent the letter, not making any expectations. For all she knew, Duncan Shepherd wouldn't even reply to her. It would be hard to imagine that other people browsing the site would ignore Duncan's profile. His beauty, even in a mugshot was beyond compare.

But before long, she'd gotten a beat up envelope in her mailbox from none other than Duncan Shepherd. Excitement buzzed around her as she took a seat in her bed and tore it open.

Y/N,

Thank you for the lovely picture. I've got it hanging above my bed as a reminder of things I loved about my freedom. My mother has an original piece hanging in my childhood home. I remember staring at it for hours, enthralled by the beauty of it.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the print in your envelope.

You know what they say about great minds.

Sometimes I wonder if my family would have let me pursue the arts if I'd be where I am today.

But I am eagerly counting the days until I am able to stroll through a museum in Paris again.

I am dying to know more about you. Tell me what makes up Y/N.

At the bottom of the sheet, was a rough sketch of a garden Duncan had drawn out for her.

The letters continued like that for a few weeks, slowly learning little bits and pieces of each other through writing.

She'd learned a lot about him very quickly. He told her about how troubles with his app and his powerful family led to him going to prison. And he also told her about all of the things he loved to do. Much to her surprise, she had more in common with him than she thought she would have,

Y/N,

We've been writing to each other for some time now and I must admit, curiosity is killing me. Not to mention, I do believe it's unfair that you've known what I look like from the start.

Tell me, did my photograph have anything to do with your interest in me?

I'd love to see you Y/N.

Y/N re-read the letter over and over trying to justify the butterflies in her stomach at the idea of Duncan thinking about her. Wondering what she looks like.

Duncan kept every letter Y/N had sent him using them as a way to fuel his daydreams of the woman behind the letters.

-

Y/N dug through her things in search of an old polaroid camera she had. - she thought Duncan would appreciate the use of instant film. Even if she felt a little silly doing so, she did her hair and makeup and searched her closet for the perfect outfit. In some way, this would be like Duncan's first impression of her. Little did she know, she'd already made a huge first impression with him.

She settled for a deep burgundy silk tank with a cowl neckline. She tossed her favorite leather jacket over it and put on her favorite dainty gold necklaces, letting them rest above her cleavage.

She made a little set up by the window in her room, where the light came in just right for a photo, and propped the camera up on a pile of books before setting it on an automatic timer to have it snap the photo of her.

She stared at the photo, smiling - happy with the results.

Y/N sat at her desk, writing him another letter and including her photo along with it.

-

Duncan opened his new letter from Y/N letting the photo fall from the envelope. He picked it up and stared in awe. He couldn't even focus on reading the words on the page as he stared at her picture.

In his mind, he expected her to be beautiful but was blown away by her photo.

He kept it safe, tucked under his pillow. He would take it out every night to look at it until he fell asleep dreaming of her.

Duncan saw her face... eyes clenched shut... pouty lips formed into a perfect "O" as her thighs surrounded his face.

He saw his hands traveling up her legs... kissing up her bare stomach... kissing her lips.

Everything felt so real.

Duncan woke up in a hot sweat from his over realistic dream. He could almost imagine her taste on his tongue.

The moon shone into his room giving him a sliver of silver light and he pulled her photo out, tracing his finger over her face.

He turned on the little lamp at his desk and sat down to write her back.

I can't tell you the time, but I believe it's past midnight and I can't sleep without dreaming of you.

Forgive me if I'm being forward, but I can't get you off my mind.

What I would give to be with you now...

Y/N, I want to feel your skin on mine. I imagine what it must feel like to have your lips pressed against my own.

I can't stop myself from thinking of all the ways I want to make you mine.

D.S.

--

I want to make you mine.

Y/N kept going back to those words.

If it weren't for the prison bars keeping Duncan away...

Her daydreams of spending the afternoons sipping coffee and strolling through colorful cities with Duncan began to change after the last letter. Knowing that he wanted her sent shivers down her spine.

I can't stop thinking about you either... Especially your last letter.

I want to know all the ways you'd make me yours.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it as well. I'm counting the days with you until you're able to get out and do just that...

Y/N colored her lips with her favorite lipstick and kissed the bottom of the page, leaving the perfect kiss mark on it.

She had unlocked something with Duncan with the last letter. Ever since he and Y/N started to exchange letters back and forth, he hadn't even bothered to open mail from other admirers. He only had eyes for Y/N.

Y/N.

Wish you could hear how your name falls off my lips as I chant it over and over when I bring myself relief - picturing your lips around my cock.

God.

It's hard to think clearly when you're on my mind.

You want to know of all the ways I'd make you mine? My hand would fall off by the time it took to write out each and every way I'd do that, sweetheart.

For starters, I'd love to skin my teeth into your skin. Leaving sweet love bites along your neck. Would you like that?

I wouldn't want you to worry about a thing.

You'd let me take care of you, right baby?

Maybe I'd tie up your wrists to make sure you keep still while I work on making you cum.

I hope you know I plan on keeping these promises the moment I get out.

Y/N touched herself as she read Duncan's letter again. His words making her pool between her legs. She dipped her hand into her panties and imagined everything Duncan described that he'd do to her.

Y/N wanted to do something special for Duncan.

She changed into a lacy lingerie set and grabbed her old camera again. Her heartbeat was beating fast with excitement. She held one hand up with her finger on the shutter and pointed it towards her bottoms. As she dipped her free hand into the waistband of her panties, she took the teasing shot of her hand inside her underwear.

Her cheeks felt hot as she took a look at the photo.

She took a few more. A few more teasing pictures - like the one she took wearing her leather jacket barely covering her - along with more R- rated photos.

She grabbed her small stack of photos and tied them with a piece of ribbon in order from least to most risque and added them to the letter she sent off to him.

Do you know what you do to me?

My letters make you touch yourself? What I would give to be able to see it in more than just your pictures. To be able to hear you for myself.

You don't know how much I loved your photos. You make my cock throb, thinking of just how much I want to fuck you.

I need to see you. Hear you.

How would you feel about coming to see me?

I can arrange with my assistants (the ones not in prison) to arrange a flight for you...

Please let me know what you think.

Love, D.S.

Love D.S.

-

"Shepherd. You got a call," the guard buzzed Duncan out of his cell and took him to the phone booth where the phone was waiting for him.

He wasn't expecting a call from his lawyer until later this week so he wasn't sure who would be calling him. Not like he and his family were on great terms at the moment.

Y/N tapped her foot anxiously on the other end of the call, trying to fight the nerves off.

"Hello?"

His voice was lower than she expected.

"Hi," she spoke barely above a whisper. "It's Y/N," she continued.

"Y/N? Y/N? Oh my god." Duncan smiled in a way he hadn't since he stepped foot into prison. "Your voice!" he laughed, "I'm hearing your voice! Wait, how? I - why? How?" he was at loss for words at the surprise.

"I hope it's okay. I called the office where I send my letters to and asked to call you," she bit her lip. "I like your voice."

Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow. It's so good to hear yours."

They knew they didn't have much time but they were both so wrapped up in the fact that they were hearing each other for the first time.

"I, uh, also wanted to talk to you about your... proposal from your last letter... about visiting you I mean." she paced back and forth in her room. "I'd like that. A lot."

His cheeks would be hurting from how hard he was smiling.

"You've got it, baby. We'll make it happen, I promise."

There was a brief pause, "Don't know how I'm gonna control myself when I have you in front of me, princess."

"Two minutes, Shepherd," the guard called over making Duncan roll his eyes.

"I have to go soon. But include your info in the next letter and I'll have my lawyers work something out with you, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled. "And Dunc, it's so good to hear your voice too,"

"You'll call me again?" he asked, desperation almost bleeding into his tone.

"Yes. I promise."

"Good." he grinned. "I'll talk to you soon. Bye, baby."

-

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Duncan continued to have phone calls more often, but their letters never stopped. He got in touch with his attorney and passed along Y/N's information for him to follow up and help arrange a trip for her.

Before she knew it, she was being flown out in a first class seat to D.C.

They had her stay in a luxury suite the night before she got to finally meet Duncan.

The morning of, Y/N had piles of clothes tossed around the room as she searched for what to wear.

She'd known Duncan and his taste pretty well from his letters and phone calls to know what he liked. Y/N put on a baby pink silk mini slip dress that tiptoed the line between streetwear and lingerie, and strappy heels.

"Damn, baby. Haven't seen you around here..."

"Are you here for me?"

Along with countless other cat calls flooded her ears as the guard led her to Duncan's cell.

Duncan heard the commotion down the hall and he knew Y/N would be there any second. He frowned, wanting to take her away. None of those creeps deserved to even look at her, and here they were harassing her. It was his fault for bringing her there. He tried to tune them out, wanting to be okay when he saw Y/N.

Y/N was standing behind the guard as they came to Duncan's cell.

"Follow me, Shepherd. You both have an hour," the guard let Duncan out and he could finally lock eyes with Y/N.

She froze, finally seeing. His photo on the website did him no justice. The piercing stare of his eyes couldn't be recaptured on camera. His pink, full lips were even prettier in person.

"Hi," Duncan broke the silence between them. He was handcuffed immediately so he couldn't touch her the way he wished he could have right away.

But they were taken to the parloir where they would finally have some sense of privacy. Duncan's lawyers had worked out for this conjugal visit. They might have slipped the guards a few extra bills to ensure Duncan and Y/N had extra privacy for a moment. But Duncan had been a model prisoner (in one of the comfiest prisons in the country), so the guards had no reason to say no.

"One hour." he reminded Dunc, as he removed his handcuffs and left the room, leaving Y/N and Duncan alone.

"You're here," he closed the gap between them and embraced her. She smelled even better than he imagined.

"Duncan," she smiled with tears in her eyes, "I can't believe it's really you," she giggled.

"It's me," he pulled back, holding her hands as he admired her. "God, you're gorgeous."

Y/N couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around Duncan and kissed him.

Duncan stumbled back a little before steadying them. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss. He could feel her pulse quickening under his hand.

"God, can't believe you're here," he mumbled against her lips.

It'd be so long since he'd be this intimate with anyone - let alone someone he liked so much. He tried to push back the thoughts of the ticking clock counting their time and the cold industrial feel of the room they were in.

"I'm here... I'm yours," she tangled her fingers in his hair before kissing him again.

Duncan led her to the table, setting her on top of it. He towered above her, his hands on her thighs, slowly inching up her dress. She was everything he imagined and more.

"Open your legs for me," he instructed, parting them open.

He lowered himself until he was face to face with her dripping cunt. Her panties, if they could even be called that - they were a piece of barely-there cloth - were soaked. Duncan pressed her lips to the wet spot on her underwear and kissed it slowly, letting his tongue poke out through his lips and coat them with his saliva as well.

"Taste so sweet," he murmured, pulling her panties aside and putting his tongue on her wet pussy.

He lapped her wetness with his tongue, letting it massage her clit. Sucking and kissing her - watching how every move he made caused a different reaction from her.

Y/N tried to keep quiet, biting down on her lip to stifle her moans.

Duncan peeked up at her, holding in her sounds. He remembered the way the other prisoners hollered at her.

"I wanna hear you, baby. Please," he begged. He kissed along her thighs, "Want everyone in this god damn prison to know you're mine."

Y/N let the sounds she was holding in fall freely.

"Duncan. Duncan..." she called his name over and over getting closer to the sweet relief his tongue promised.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

Duncan felt her heels digging into his shoulder blades as she trembled, finishing on his lips.

"Good girl," he praised, kissing along her thighs.

Duncan stood up as Y/N watched him with her hands pressed on the table, leaning back slightly to watch him.

"What?" Duncan chuckled, slowly undoing his jumpsuit.

"Just can't stop looking at you! You're real!" she laughed.

"Sure am," he grabbed his shaft, closing the gap between them. "I don't know when we'll be able to see each other.. like this again," he leaned down to kiss her. "Wanna make sure I make you feel good,"

He rubbed the end of his cock against her pussy. "Are you ready?"

"Waited so long," she whined, nodding her head.

Duncan pushed inside her, slowly. Savoring the way he stretched her open.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You're so tight," he panted, feeling her clench around his length.

He focused on the way he snapped his hips into hers, keeping a steady pace trying not to finish before she did.

But it had been so long. It had been a long time coming for this moment.

His head was in the crook of her neck, panting heavily. "Fuck, baby." he sunk his teeth into her soft skin. "Gonna cum," before he could finish his statement, he shot his load into her.

He stayed inside her as he rode out his orgasm.

Flushed Duncan faced her; embarrassed for finishing before he wanted to. "I'm sor-" she stopped him by pulling him in for a hard, deep kiss.

She pushed his hair out of his face, bumping her nose with his, "Nothing to be sorry for."

She had Duncan lay on the floor, using his jumpsuit to hold his head up, and then straddled his waist.

Her silky mini dress was bunched around her hips. Duncan found himself getting hard again as she climbed on top of him.

"Thought about doing this for so long," she kissed him. "Can't tell you how often I touched myself reading your letters... thinking about riding you," she sighed, positioning herself over his cock and sinking down.

She rode his cock, bouncing up and down his length. Her nails dug into his chest as she used it for support. The curve of his cock hitting her core made her eyes roll back with each roll of her hips.

Hot sweaty bodies had the coldness of the room forgotten.

Y/N grabbed Duncan's hands, intertwining their fingers, "Gonna.." she started, her legs shaking as her movement got sloppier.

"Me too," he grunted.

She felt Duncan fill her to the brim for the second time.

After a few moments of stillness, Y/N finally stood up, helping Duncan up with her. Her legs were shaky and Duncan helped her sit down.

She reached into her purse for a rag she brought. Duncan took it from her hand and got on his knees again. He cleaned their cum off her thighs, stopping only to give her small little kisses on her legs.

He heard Y/N sniffle and looked up, concern painted across his face. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Is she regretting it? He thought.

"No! Of course not," she sniffled again, "I just wish... you could come with me. Leave this place with me."

"Oh, baby," he stood up and kissed her forehead. "Soon. I promise," he tilted her chin up to kiss her.

And Y/N knew he meant what he said. Soon they'd be able to be together all the time, but it still broke her heart to leave and have to see him stay behind the metal bars.

tags:

@desertsunflower00 @celestialrequiem @dhampiravidi @ritualmichael @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @xavierplympton @langdonswhoreprobably @feralthoughtdump @wroteclassicaly @melodylangdon @bloodcoatedeclipse @kitty4860

bonus: screenshot from a very good point drunk!anon made vkfsjk

[lilskieswifey]

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 25//

(Masterlist)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia, @fantasyshadowhunters) *bold tags don't work!

Thank you all so much for your patience during ACONAS's hiatus! I hope you all enjoy this update! Chapter 26 will be coming on Monday, May 24th to keep in line with my regular posting schedule!

Sending all you beautiful readers love and healing! ❤️

-Rhysand-

I noticed the change in my mate almost immediately after her period of nesting had lasted a full week. The change was subtle at first; beginning after a long afternoon of Feyre rearranging clothes and ordering my brothers and I to move around the furniture in the nursery no less than ten times that day alone, then choosing to spend the rest of the evening walking the gardens with Elain. It was there, watching from the library window, that I felt the call in my blood—the call that urged me to find a sanctuary for my mate. Months ago, after the birth of his daughter, Kallias had warned me that this instinct would come. As mated fae males, the compulsions we felt in regard to our mates always traced back to the beasts our ancestors were and became especially prominent when they were with child. I had noted as much the minute I scented my offspring present in Feyre's womb, and though I had not been fully aware of her pregnancy until she was, I had instinctually known and formed a new attachment to her—to our son. Like the mating bond, the ties I formed with my unborn child were just as strong and prominent; however silent. I could sense those occasional glimmers that Feyre felt; had even felt that warning tug when they had been in trouble during the attack on Velaris. However, this tug, this preternatural warning, was different—stronger than before.

He was ready. Sebastian was ready to enter the world.

XXX

-Feyre-

"It's time, my love," Rhys purred in my ear as I stared out into the gardens, sitting on the cushioned loveseat on our balcony.

Once I had returned from my earlier walk with Elain, warm and content despite the late autumn chill—thanks to my mates magic warming the grounds, I chose to skip dinner. Somehow finding it more appealing to retreat to the privacy of my bedroom when I realized I had no appetite at all. While that should've alarmed me, my feelings of content remained as I changed into the comfiest clothes I could find; the softest pair of leggings I owned and a long-sleeved oversized tunic that was large enough to fit over my large belly comfortably. It wasn't long after I had found my seat on the balcony that Rhys was at my ear with a warm mug of tea in hand. I took it from him gratefully and relished in the warmth enveloping my face as I smiled at him in return.

"Time for what?" I asked softly, resting a hand on the apex of my belly.

He kneeled in front of me, hands holding either side of my belly as those star-flecked violet eyes looked into mine meaningfully. "For us to retreat to the Cabin," came his equally soft response.

My heart stuttered for a second as I realized what this meant, but instead of feeling the panic I thought I ought to have, I nodded slowly—an all too familiar glimmer pulsing between my mate and I, between that bond that existed between the three of us and loosed a calm exhale.

"Should we tell the others?" I quietly asked.

Rhys shook his head as he again stood, summoning those dark and beautiful Illyrian wings from the shadows. "I already told them, while you were up here getting comfortable," he said with a warm smile. "They expected as much, and they know how...sensitive this is, so they aren't expecting any heartfelt goodbyes."

I nodded, again surprised from the lack of emotion I felt at that sentiment; that I had no real urge to even say goodbye and be showered with well wishes from our family. Suddenly, I registered what was happening; my diffident state had finally arrived. It was such a strange and foreign feeling as the full weight of what was occurring naturally in my body overcame me. While part of me wanted to feel nervous and be comforted by our loved ones, all I could do was look at my mate and felt all the reassurance I needed.

Finishing my tea, I set the mug aside and allowed Rhys to help me to my feet; a small laugh escaping my lips at the effort it took to ease me upright and returned my stare into those violet eyes.

"Let's go," I whispered.

It was all he needed to hear before he lifted me into his arms with heartbreaking ease and took to the skies. I closed my eyes as the wind whipped through my hair, relishing in the cool breeze as I rested my head against Rhys's shoulder; one hand looped around his shoulders and the other caressing my belly. In spite of the awareness of what was to come looming in the back of my mind—the pain I would soon endure, my trepidation was nearly nonexistent.

The healer and our midwife had warned that my withdrawn state could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days before I officially went into labor, but some innate part of me felt that this notion wouldn't drag on for long at all. Sebastian had dropped into his head down position weeks ago and had calmed considerably since my period of nesting began. While his lack of movement had alarmed Rhys and I at first, Madja and the midwife assured that this was also normal. Our youngling, our son, was preparing himself for arrival. His loving glimmer still remained and pulsed through our bond, letting his father and I know that he was there, and that he was just as ready as we were to meet him.

As soon as we touched down to the front steps leading up to the Cabin, I let down my mental shields to Rhys, letting him read my thoughts as he carried me inside. His gentle kiss to my forehead was his only response until we were within the safe walls of the Cabin, the fireplace immediately springing to life as we entered the small living area and he set me on the couch. He came to kneel in front of me as he had earlier, the starlight in his eyes shimmering as they met mine again.

"However long this does last, at least we know we won't be leaving this Cabin until our son is born," Rhys said, a hand coming to stroke my belly gently.

I loosed a long breath as I nodded, my hand joining his. "The next time we go back to the estate...we'll have a baby," I mused as I watched our hands continue to caress the expanse of my stomach.

Our son, our baby Sebastian was just underneath layers of skin and muscle, lying in wait and ready to be born in what could be hours or days. The process would be grueling and long...but that intuitive and serene sense told me that I was prepared, that I could do this.

"You can," Rhysand interjected quietly; my mental shields still left down for him, "and I will be at your side through every second of it."

I gave him a slow smile in return, bringing my hand to touch his face gently. "I have no doubt about that, Rhysand," I said softly.

He kissed my palm before moving from his kneeled position to a seated one beside me, his hand lingering on my belly.

Will you tell me what happens in the Night Court when an heir is born now? I asked through the bond.

Rhys's chuckle sent a warm shudder down the bond as he pressed another kiss to my brow. "You'll find out soon enough, my love," he answered aloud.

Prick.

XXX

-Rhysand-

The labor pains began the next morning.

Only an hour after our arrival at the Cabin the night before, my mate had fallen into a deep slumber while we lingered together in the sitting area. I carried her to bed not long after, keeping a watchful eye on her during the night and sending as many updates as possible to our awaiting family in Velaris. After Mor's persistent "check-in's" every hour, at Cassian's insistence she claimed, I decided to communicate mind-to-mind with Az; who's ever-present composed demeanor was always a comfort no matter the situation, even as I could sense his underlying worry for his High Lady. However, in between the few hours of sleep I allowed myself through the night, I updated and reassured him of Feyre's condition. But, when my mate awoke with a furrowed brow and a pained expression, I sent a direct order for him to send for the midwife and healer.

XXX

-Feyre-

The labor pains came in waves.

When I first awoke from the most tranquil state of sleep I had ever found for the duration of my pregnancy, the muscle contractions in my lower abdomen had felt like the twinges of pain I experienced during my previous cycles—uncomfortable and excruciating, but in the last decade I had learned different techniques in order to cope, such as curling up in a certain position on my side or alternating between heating and cooling blankets laid across my abdomen and back. Like the cramps associated with my cycles, these contractions pulsed and throbbed through my lower body, ripping across my back, stomach, and thighs, but were thankfully manageable with Rhysand's help. The minute a groan escaped my lips, Rhys sprang into action, sitting on his knees beside me and helping me sit upright. He let me squeeze his hand and led me through the controlled breathing exercises the midwife had shown us in preparation for this moment, and for the first few hours they were completely doable.

The tightening would build and build, washing over my body in a flood; my deep and cleansing breaths pushing them back down into nothing...until it all happened again minutes later. From the time the first wave consumed me and dissipated, a minute had barely gone by, and Rhys was still at my ear whispering terms of endearment and encouragement until Madja and our midwife arrived. The duo immediately began setting up our space with the supplies needed for the duration of my labor, and I watched them in a trance. Thanks to the healer and midwife's many lectures leading up to this event, I knew that part of me would be so focused on making it through this arduous process that the rest of the world would melt away. However, there was still a small part of me—perhaps the part tethered to the bond I shared with my mate, that was acutely aware of everything that was happening.

It was all so...primal. As the hours passed, my body continued to endure the waves of contractions and pain that continued to surge, mount, and flood my entire being. I knew what was happening, and despite the pain affecting my innermost being, that innate female shouldered on. Meanwhile, a tiny part of my consciousness watched from a distance at the bridge that connected me to my mate. It was that part of my psyche, the only part unaffected by the unadulterated anguish brought on contraction after contraction, that could hear Rhysand's words; that could register them and find the encouragement I needed in order to push past pain after insurmountable pain.

XXX

-Rhysand-

Feyre's cries and shouts of agony were truly the worst form of torment I had ever withstood in the centuries I had been alive. For every pulse of pain that washed over her body, I wished with every fiber of my being that I could take it away. Despite knowing that I could was easily the hardest part in watching her suffer, but my mate had made me vow months in advance not to.

"Promise me you won't use your daemati abilities to ease my pain," Feyre had said softly.

It had still been fairly early in her pregnancy when she uttered those words; when we had taken a few days to ourselves in this very Cabin and whispered words of comfort and reassured each other that we would be different from our own parents. I had just promised my mate of the outstanding mother she would become for our son, and she assured me the same—dissuading any insecurities either of us had for our ability to be good parents. My forehead was still pressed against hers, eyes imploring as she stared at me meaningfully.

I raised my head, my gaze leveling with those stunning blue-grey eyes as I asked, "Are you sure, Feyre? The pain will be...considerable."

Kallias warned me as much in his letters following Eira's birth. While the experience had passed in a blur, those hours leading up to his daughter's birth had tortured a once vivacious and bright female. If the pains of labor could bring down even Viviane, I knew the same would be true for my mate.

Feyre simply nodded. "If Viviane could do it, if your mother could do it, then so can I," she insisted.

My gaze had softened as I cupped her face gently. "I have no doubt that you can do it Feyre, darling, but if I could make it easier for you-"

"No," she repeated. "Females have been doing it for centuries without any kind of pain relief, and as High Lady of the Night Court, I've more than proven I can handle this as well."

I brushed my thumb along her cheek gently as I nodded in agreement. While every feral instinct in me protested the allowance of my mates suffering, I shoved those intolerant compulsions away. This was Feyre's choice, she was the one carrying my child and would ultimately bring him into the world, so it was her decision on how she wanted to accomplish that task. My job now, as Kallias had outlined to me from his own account, was to support my mate through the ordeal.

"As my High Lady wishes," I purred before pressing another reassuring kiss to her brow.

Her returning smile was bright, those blue-grey eyes shimmering with adoration before either of us noticed the new tattoo forming in the shape of three small stars on both of our right pinky fingers. A small laugh rumbled in my chest as we both watched the stars take shape and solidify on our skin—evidence of our new promise.

"I must say, Feyre darling, if the centuries we have together are filled with more and more oaths between us, I may run out of skin," I teased.

My beautiful, perfect, mate only laughed, the sound resounding through our bond; its melody causing Sebastian's glimmer of delight to thrum between us a moment later.

XXX

-Feyre-

Rhys's was the only voice I could hear over my misery, and during those couple precious moments of respite in between surges of hurt. I was vaguely aware of my own howls of agony as my mate continued to coach me through each breathing exercise; guiding me back to calmer and more controlled breaths whenever they turned into angry or pain-filled sobs. I could hardly keep track of how much time had passed, or anything at all for that matter; my mind too focused on getting me to the end of each earth-shattering contraction. That innate part of me left on the bridge of my bond couldn't tell if the ground beneath me was actually trembling or not, and I was too exhausted to actually ask whenever the conscious part of my being was alert to my present surroundings.

There were slivers of minutes when I was able to hear Madja and the midwife, mostly talking to Rhys and offering advice; one suggestion being to actually get me out of bed and walking around the space of the Cabin. From what I could actually discern of the conversation the older females were having with my mate, they explained that any movement might help things along—staying idle and writhing in pain while lying in bed would apparently only prolong my suffering. So, while I was still aware, Rhys helped me out of bed; one arm wrapped around my back to keep me supported, and his free hand gripping mine. I kept my other on my hip, eyes closed as I shuffled out of the small bedroom with his help.

I could hear Rhys's voice again in my ear, full of nothing but love and support, as I felt the beginnings of the stabbing pain return. "You're doing so well, my love," he said softly.

I yearned for the peace the timbre of his voice once offered me, clung to the shreds of it as the next contraction sent me from my feet onto all fours on the ground beneath me. I could only feel Rhysand's hands on my back, rubbing soothing circles as I howled in pain, my groans staying loud as I followed the patterned breathing as best as I could. Somehow, this position—being on my hands and knees, made the contractions easier to cope with. Remembering the midwife's explanation that labor was such an exacting primal act in itself, that instinctual female in me realized that in order to carry on for the duration of this process I would need to follow whatever natural tendency wanted to take control.

Once the pain finally began to ebb away and my breathing regulated, I felt Rhys's hands try to lift me up. I shook my head immediately.

"No," I rasped. "This feels good," I said as I turned my head to meet his starlit gaze.

He nodded in return, hands resuming the comforting circles he made on my back whilst the magic of the Cabin supplied a plush blanket underneath me—to keep my bare hands and knees from being pressed to the hardwood floors. I realized then that my loose nighttime shift was the only piece of clothing I donned. Sometime between waking and now, Rhys must've used his magic to change me into simpler clothing.

"You won't be needing much else for this process," came the midwife's voice from behind my place on the floor in the middle of the sitting room; probably guessing my thoughts as I looked over my attire.

I raised my weary gaze to her, both her and Madja offering a kind smile in return as they sat on the settee across from me. "We've been performing hourly pelvic exams in order to check your progression in between contractions," the healer explained.

I nodded, vaguely remembering their voices explaining what they were doing and when during the few moments of alertness I had been granted thus far. Another part of me recalling the crucial details the midwife had previously explained to my mate and me. In order to reach the final stage of labor, the pushing stage, the opening of my womb had to reach a certain level of thinning out and my bag of waters hosting the baby would have to burst in order for him to pass through and officially enter the world.

"You're about halfway there," Rhys said, answering my unasked question.

"Of course, when the time comes, you'll feel that preternatural urge to begin pushing, which is a tall-tale sign for the final stage of delivery to occur," the midwife explained.

"How long has it been?" I asked, my voice hoarse from my earlier groans.

"Hours," Madja answered, waving a nonchalant hand. "The timing doesn't matter, so long as you and your youngling continue to tolerate the process well, there isn't anything to worry about."

"Which you are," the midwife added. "Doing well, I mean."

"You're doing brilliantly, Feyre darling," Rhys repeated, pressing a kiss to the side of my temple as he continued working those reposeful circles on my back.

I could only offer a brief smile in return before another gut-wrenching wave overwhelmed me once again.

XXX

-Rhysand-

There seemed to be no end to Feyre's suffering as pain continued to seize her body, the intervals of contractions growing shorter and shorter as the hours continued to pass. Still, in spite of my heart shattering every time the Cabin was filled with her agonizing wails, part of me watched my mate in admiration as she fought her way through the excruciating convulsions and followed whatever insights her body called her to do in order to manage each one. We switched from her position on the floor, to walking around the small space of the Cabin, leaning against walls and different pieces of furniture for support as the contractions persisted; the midwife and healer checking her progression with pelvic exams at every mark of the hour. The day was now transitioning into early evening, and the contractions were starting to last longer—to the point where Feyre could hardly speak, or barely register anything at all as she endured them. During those pain-free intervals, she was able to nod in acknowledgement at whatever few words were spoken to her, engage in brief conversation, or give a simple shake of her head when she wanted to continue moving around the room or into a new relieving position.

The stronger the contractions grew, so did Feyre's reaction to them. She still whimpered in pain, her groans nearly coming out as growls as she battled to keep pace with the breathing exercises I coached her through. But with my focus kept solely on my mate, I hadn't realized I was no longer updating Azriel until I felt a gentle plea from Mor. Feyre had just undergone another contraction when I heard Mor's timid entreatment. Apparently, my mate's roars of pain had been so profound, that they had shook the expanse of mountains across our court. I had been too engrossed with guiding Feyre's breathing to notice, but our family back in Velaris had. They knew it was a sign of things advancing; that the next heir of the Night Court would soon make his entrance. So, I updated them as quickly as possible, promising that my next update would come when Sebastian did, and turned my attention back onto Feyre.

XXX

-Feyre-

Somehow my journey around the Cabin had come full circle, and I ended up on all fours on the cushioned bed in the bedroom. In the time my last contraction ebbed away, and I found Rhysand's violet eyes to offer a bleary-eyed appreciative smile, I felt my body shift. Still panting and recovering the breath I had used during the last contraction, I gripped Rhys's hand, silently asking him to help me upright. He obeyed, and I leaned back against his chest for support as I rested on my knees with a sigh of relief...my eyes widening a second later when I felt a gush of water burst between my legs.

My head snapped in the direction of the mess now spreading on the once clean sheets of the bed before Rhys helped me off and back onto my feet, the magic of the house changing the sheets without a second thought. I stared wide-eyed at my mate, but he only smiled warmly in return before pressing a kiss to my brow.

"M-My...bag of waters broke," I said, still astonished.

He nodded. "Just like the midwife told us it would," he added, rubbing my back in reassuring strokes.

My hands held my stomach, suddenly feeling lighter at the loss of fluid that had built up over the last several months. "T-This is really happening, Rhys," I whispered, knowing this moment of clarity would soon pass as the next contraction started to edge back in.

"You're doing it, Feyre," he said with another kiss to my brow. "It's almost over."

I didn't have enough time to respond before the full weight of the contraction hit in an entirely different way than I had previously felt. Rhys helped me back onto the edge of the bed, and I gripped his hand hard as the pain began to mount and surge through me—a newfound pressure building at the base of my pelvis alongside with it, and my breaths came in fuller and deeper rasps. Madja and the healer, who had remained in another room of the Cabin to allow Rhys and me some privacy, must've heard the change in my breathing because they entered the room seconds later.

The words exchanged between the older females and my mate seemed far away, barely discernible to me as I closed my eyes in concentration. The painful pressure I felt continued to build, and I realized that preternatural urge to push was here. The groan that slipped through my lips must've been indication enough, because I soon found myself in the center of the bed with Rhys holding me upright and the midwife at my feet as she performed her final pelvic exam.

"It's time, my Lady," the midwife said, as I forced my attention on her. "It's time to start pushing."

My heart shuttered at the words, and I turned wide eyes to my mate, who kept an arm wrapped around my back, allowing me to partially rest against him while I squeezed his free hand.

You can do this, Feyre, darling

His warm voice echoed through the bond, reaching my innermost self left on the bridge between us, and I nodded as I felt the surge of pain return. I groaned as the intense pressure grew stronger, the urge to push becoming forceful by the second, and heard the combined voices of Madja and the midwife quickly instructing me on how to position myself on the bed. With my upper body being supported by Rhys, and my legs drawn up and open, I quickly sucked in a deep breath as the females instructed and bore down in my first push.

XXX

-Rhysand-

Feyre pushed and pushed for what felt like hours, but in reality, I knew it had only been one—judging by the path of vanishing sunlight outside the window that finally gave way to night as it always did; dark orange blending into a mix of magenta and indigo before the all-consuming dark sea of stars swallowed them up and lit up the sky. I was all too familiar with that pattern, had watched it countless times in my lifetime, but had never felt it drag on as long as it had tonight. Perhaps Feyre's continued screams of anguish as she pushed were the reason why it felt so prolonged now, but I forced myself not to linger on watching it as I honed in on my mate.

She slumped against my chest, exhausted and spent after offering another hard push, and I dabbed at her brow and neck with a cool, damp cloth. I lost track of how many she had done but kept a brave face as I encouraged her further. She was indeed the strongest female I had ever seen in my centuries of life, and I held onto that reverence in order to battle the guilt that raged within me. It was my offspring she had grown in her belly; mine she now choked back tears for as she drew in another deep breath and pushed again, brows sweaty and furrowed in pure concentration, face red with splotches as she growled in pain with her effort.

It was both the most beautiful I had ever seen her, and the most harrowing.

While my chest ached with remorse for seeing my mate in such a state, it was also filled with so much more love and devotion I had ever felt towards her. I pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she pushed, silently letting her know how much I loved her in this moment.

XXX

-Feyre-

"I can see the head my lady," Madja cheered as I pushed.

A snarl of agony ripped from my throat; my eyes still clenched in concentration. "Get it out!" I growled without breaking my effort.

"You're nearly there," came the midwife's response.

I groaned, panting heavily as I slumped against Rhys again. He whispered loving words of support as he dabbed at my face and neck to cool me down, and I knew the all-consuming heat I felt had nothing to do with my powers and everything to do with this struggle. Not even the messy bun I had thrown my hair into seemed to cool me down in between my endeavors, so I was grateful when Rhys had begun using a damp washcloth to provide relief—the only kind afforded to me during this ordeal. It was all starting to become too overwhelming to endure for much longer, and I felt my resolve slipping. My eyes met with Rhys's for a brief moment, and instead of offering him a tired half-smile I had done so far, I broke into sobs.

"I can't do this anymore, Rhys," I cried.

His hand squeezed mine, the starlight in his eyes flickering as the hand on my back tightened gently. "You can," he promised. "Sebastian is almost here, Feyre, just imagine our little Bash here at last,"

I sobbed at the thought, the images of my baby I had been dreaming of for months flashing through my mind before I felt the devastating pain returned. I cried again, loudly claiming I couldn't do it, and was met with a chorus of voices encouraging me—claiming I could, and would. Deciding not to keep fighting it, I rallied my strength together with another gulp of air and bore down with the hardest push I could offer.

My attempt heralded in another round of voices animatedly telling me to continue, and though I couldn't differentiate the female's voices, I heard one of them tell Rhys to watch as our son's head began to emerge. My eyes were squeezed shut with my effort, so I couldn't see the look on his face, but a yelp of pain emerged from my throat a second later as I felt the strain of my baby's head coming through with the force of my pushing. The midwife quickly told me to take several deep breaths instead, and I did as I was told, gasping aloud when I felt a painful burst.

"The head is out, my lady," the midwife said with a meaningful look as I finally opened my eyes.

I gasped for even breaths, nodding before I looked to Rhys; whose violet eyes were silver lined as they met mine. He had shifted to my side for a better view of our son coming forth, his and Madja's hands holding either side of me, balancing me upright.

"He's so beautiful, Feyre," Rhys said tearfully as he lowered his head to rest his forehead against mine, a tear trailing down the side of his cheek.

I sobbed again, bringing a hand to brush that tear away briefly before grasping his free one as my body yielded to another throbbing contraction. "Just one more big push, my lady, and your babe will be in your arms." Madja promised.

"One more, and you're done," Rhys vowed, repeating the healer's words.

Instead of voicing my agreement, I continued my hold on to Rhys's hand while I gripped my knee with the other and sucked in a quick gasp of air before offering what now had to be the strongest and hardest push my body could muster. My eyes squeezed shut as I fixed all of my attention into this push, near-feral growls emerging from my throat at the unbearable pain that tore through me, my cries drowning out the myriad of voices cheering me on.

Soon, however, all the pain vanished the second I heard the tiniest, most magnificent wail I would ever hear in my entire life.