So turn’s out I can’t read so I actually wrote this about Feysand and their son’s first word. Sorry! I hope you like it anyway! If you would like more I have a masterlist that let’s be real is mostly Feysand, but also a lot of other stuff if you want to have a gander at it. Hope you enjoy!
Feyre watched as Rhys poured water over their baby son’s
head, clucking at the eleven month old.
Rhys and their son both sat in the bath – bubbles spattered
around them – with the baby sitting on Rhys’s lap facing his father. Rhys had
one arm securely around their baby while the other splashed water and played
with the little toys they had to stop their son from making a fuss.
He used to hate bath time and would cry and scream when they
tried to bathe him. Now it’s not so bad – they figured out that if there are
enough bubbles and enough toys then it’s not really that bad of a time.
Right now they were playing with wooden ducks that Uncle
Azriel had made especially for bath time, knowing that his nephew always kicked
up a storm when it came to getting clean.
Their boy held a duck in each hand, alternating between
splashing them in the water and biting their heads. Feyre – who was sitting on
a stool next to the bath – pried it gently out of his mouth each time.
“Silly boy, those aren’t to eat. Oh no no no no,” Rhys
cooed. Rhys leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the golden brown tufts of hair
atop his head.
At the kiss their baby dropped one of his ducks to pull on his
“Can you say duck?” Rhys asked his little one.
Feyre and Rhys had been trying to get him to say a word for
a while now. He was capable of making sounds – his random shrieks and cackles
in the middle of the night were proof enough of that – but had yet to say an
Feyre turned while Rhys continued to try and get their boy
to speak to get a wash cloth. When she turned back their baby had snuggled into
his father’s chest, duck still firmly grasped in his hand.
“He must be tired,” Feyre murmured as she started gently to
wash their baby with the cloth. She rubbed careful circles on his back and then
up and down his arms.
He’d had an adventure with Uncle Lucien and Aunty Elain
today that involved playing in a lot of fallen autumn leaves and dirt. He’d had
a great time but was now lightly caked in mud.
“Hmm, maybe he’ll sleep through the night.” Rhys focused
back on his son, “Can you say duck? I’ll be awfully happy if you do. What about
bath?” Rhys said. “Maybe he’ll be asleep soon enough for us to play too, Feyre
He smirked at her.
Feyre scoffed, “I plan to go to sleep as soon as I can, but
feel free to play on your own.”
Their son sat up straight suddenly and continued playing in the
bubbles and with his ducks. Rhys hands nearly slipped on his little body but
grabbed him again just in time. Rhys should be accustomed to his son’s random
flailing by now, but both parent’s doubt he ever will be.
“Uhhhhhhhh,” Their son looked at Rhys and said. He had one
tiny had gesturing towards the wooden toy and the other waving around to get
the attention of his father.
“That’s a duck, can you say duck? Duuuuuck,” Rhys elongated.
“Uhhhhhh,” The boy replied. At least he was trying.
“Duck. Duh – ck.” Rhys said again.
Feyre snorted at his antics. It was like this every time their
son focused on something for longer than a minute. As soon as their son took a liking
to something Rhys would try and get him to say the words. So far he had been unsuccessful,
and it looked like it would continue to be that way.
She finished scrubbing the dirt off her baby and grabbed a
towel so that she could wrap him up and get him ready for bed. She wasn’t
kidding when she told Rhys she was going to go to sleep as soon as she could.
She was exhausted from her long day of meetings and rotations. She had also
missed her son dearly why he was with her sister and her sister’s mate. It was
the first time he had been so far away from her and she couldn’t help but shed
a tear when her husband winnowed away with him to another Court.
“Give him to me, Rhys.” She sighed. Her mate was still
trying to get him to say a word but she’d had enough for today.
“Aren’t you going to scrub me down to? It’s only fair,” he didn’t
even look at her as he said it - he was far too distracted by their baby
blowing raspberries at him.
“Please, Rhys.” She whispered.
At her tone the High Lord looked at her in concern. He was
too distracted to see it before but now that he was properly looking her
fatigue was evident.
“I just want to read him a story and cuddle for a bit, and
then I want to sleep.” She sighed.
Rhys nodded and kissed his son on the forehead one more time
before handing him to Feyre who was holding out a towel.
She wrapped her son gently in it and took away the wooden
duck he was still holding.
Her baby let out a cry at her taking it away and snatched
his hand around as if he could get it to magically come back to him.
Feyre then left the bathroom, clutching him to her chest.
She heard Rhys get out of the bath and water sloshing as he
The baby continued to squeal for this toy but Feyre ignored
it. It was time for him to wind down and relax so that he would go to sleep.
She placed him on the change table Rhys had made for the boy and made sure he
was dry before dressing him in his pyjamas.
“Shhh, my baby. Please stop squealing, I know you’re just as
tired as I am.” She whispered to him.
When he was all dressed and ready to go she pressed two
sweet kisses to his rosy cheeks but still he wouldn’t settle. It only got worse
when he saw Rhys leave the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
“Uhhhhhh,” He gurgled.
“I know, I know, you want the bloody duck.” Feyre was nearly
to the point of tears. She was just so tired.
“Honey, I know. Want to read a story with me instead? I’ll
read you your favourite.” Feyre said hopefully as she grabbed his favourite
book – one that she had illustrated herself – about little house elves that
stole your socks.
“I’ll tell you a secret - I missed you so much today. More
than I’ve ever missed anyone, even your father.” She told him.
Feyre gasped and Rhys came running to them. He was stumbling
and frantic because his pants were only half on when their son said his very
first word but no way was he going to miss this.
“What did you say?” Rhys asked him, as if he was an adult
who could understand.
Feyre’s eyes went wide in horror but all Rhys could do was
“Where did he learn that?! We’re always trying not to curse
around him!” Feyre cried.
Rhys was clutching his stomach, gasping from laughing so
“This is – by the Cauldron this is the funniest thing,” He
“This isn’t funny, Rhysand! Do you think it was Lucien?! My
baby’s so impressionable, how dare he!”
“No Feyre, it’s not like that.”
Rhys walked away, still uncontrollably laughing, and swiped
one of the wooden ducks from the bathroom vanity where he had left them. He
came back and stood in front of them.
“Duck? Do you want a duck?” He wiggled the wooden figurine
in front of the boy’s face.
Their son lit up in delight and giggled.
“Fuck!” He said
“Looks like I’m the one making a bad impression, Feyre
darling.” He grinned at his wife.
At his words she just gripped harder onto her son.
“Oh Mother. What are we going to tell people? Cassian will
never let it go,” She groaned.
“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to tell people. Just imagine
their reactions! The Angel of the Night Court and his first word was fuck. I
will admit this makes me wickedly delighted.” His eyes shone in pure pleasure
at the situation.
Feyre rolled her eyes and handed their son over to Rhys.
“If you’re so delighted then you can try and get him to
sleep while he’s so hyperactive.” She retorted.
“My pleasure,” He sang.
Feyre turned to go to her long-awaited rest but not before
seeing her mate and baby giggling to each other. Rhys holding him and
enthusiastically swaying back and forth while saying, “duck duck duck duck duck,” just to see his son curse in return.
It worked, and they both madly giggled at each other.
You lay on your stomach in your tent, eyes closed, just listening to the sound of the boys in the nearby main camp. The sounds of their laughter, their shouts and screams as they play and fight are like music to your ears, and you found yourself getting that feeling again, the yearning you got so often when you heard them like this. You want to join them so badly every time this happens, and sometimes you do, but not on days like today. Never on days like today.
Because it’s hot out.
And when it’s hot out, the boys like to strip down to their underwear and run around in the heat, splashing and playing in the nearby stream. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, of course– you grew up with them, so they’ve seen you in your underwear before: they’re like brothers to you, with the notable exception of Peter, of course. But then, he’s seen you naked too.
Until recently, you had no problem running wild with the boys. You didn’t mind running around in just your slip, your skin bare in the sun, and you didn’t mind seeing your brothers nearly naked or them seeing you that way. Well, until recently.
The last time you allowed yourself to go and have fun with them on a hot day like today, you’d seen them. Looking.
Okay, so maybe you weren’t the skinniest. You used to be; but in the past year you’d started putting on weight. It wasn’t a big deal to you in any way, but apparently it was to them.
Because the looks they gave you? When they thought you weren’t looking?
Were looks of disgust.
And since then, you’d refused to bare your tummy, your wide, strong thighs, your large bum to them. You’d even refused Peter, in that way, and he didn’t know why, but he didn’t push. He was respectful, always.
But you couldn’t bear to see that look in his eyes, the look that you knew he would have too. You were terrified, heartbroken, and scared of him. No, that’s not right. Not of him, of losing him.
So that’s where you are right now, laying on your cot in just your slip, barely bearing the heat, and suddenly, he front flap to your tent opens, and Peter crawls in and lays down next to you.
“Hey, y/n,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “How come you’re not outside, playing with the boys?”
“Um,” you say, refusing to meet his green eyes.
“Y/n,” he says sternly. You look up at him, finally making eye contact. “Something’s up. Talk to me, love,”
“Okay,” you say, hesitant, chewing your lower lip.
It takes a long time to explain, and as you do, you see his eyes darkening. Oh God, he’s angry. You’ve never seen him like this, his lips quivering, his eyes nearly black and so full of rage.
When you finish, you bury your face in your hands, holding back tears.
“Y/n,” says Peter, but his voice isn’t harsh like you expected; it’s soft, gentle, even. You look up at him, chewing the inside of your lip.
“Y/n, I…” Peter says, looking as though he wants to punch something, his voice still soft, still kind. “I can’t believe you think I could ever look at you like that? You’re beautiful, the most beautiful creature in all the worlds, I…”
He kisses your shoulder, his lips soft and warm. He kisses down your arm, clutching your palm in his as silent tears pour down your face. His mouth meets the inside of your wrist, and between kisses, he mumbles.
“I love,” kiss “every inch” kiss “of you.” kiss
He stops, and looks deep into your eyes, one of his large, strong hands laying against your stomach. “I love this tummy,” he says, smiling at you. “I love these thighs,” he says, tracing a pattern across them with his thumb. “And if any one of my boys says anything to you, ever, they’ll have me to answer to. I love every inch of you, my lost girl.”
don’t think about rey getting like… confused? that she’s allowed to eat as much as she pleases while with the resistance? without turning any work in? and throughout her whole meal she keeps expecting someone to announce they’ve made a mistake just GIVING HER ALL THIS FOOD FOR FREE?
don’t think about rey playing and splashing in the puddles the first time she sees it rain and getting soaked to the bone but grinning from ear to ear.
don’t think about all the resistance droids coming to rey to fix their bent antennae and whatnot until they follow her around like ducklings.
Hi, my Southern Hemisphere friends, or places that are not cold. Summer is not even here yet and it’s already hot, right? Is it getting hotter by the day where you live? In Rio de Janeiro we are already suffering the effects of the heat. Here we can’t find transitions of the seasons: just mild, hot, hotter and Hell de Janeiro (windchill of 45ºC and up).
We are craving for the holidays when we can go to the beach or linger near a lake or a pool, aren’t we? Or at least stay in the house with the fan in our faces. Maybe gather the family and eat something, put on some music. I would kill for an ice cold caipirinha in a swimming pool with my little cousins playing and splashing water around me.
I always dreaded the coated image of Santa Claus. Poor thing, wearing that heavy clothing. Let the man put on some shorts! Anyway, don’t mind tumblr much, many people here are not from places where it’s now Spring. Our Christmas has nothing to do with hot cocoa, snow, fireplaces or reindeer.
This is just a message to remember you to stay safe. Avoid the direct sunlight for long periods in the middle of the day (10am to 4pm), wear sunscreen (reapplying is the key, doesn’t matter your skin tone! also, wear hair products with SPF in them!), don’t be afraid to wear hats and sunglasses. Even if the sun is not completely out yet, the cloudy weather can be stuffy and make us forget to do these things.
Also, drink plenty of liquid! Dehydration here is not just a matter of beauty, but of survival. If you can, please give water to those in need, human beings and animals alike. We all inhabit the same planet and deserve the minimum of decency.
How different from the European and North-American image is your real Christmas? Can you tell me about it, please? I would love to know. I want to know more about unique experiences of all the corners of the world.
Leia ran, now, through the trees and down a soft mossy path that led into her children’s playground. Jaina imagined the path was a starship course, set to hyperspace. Jacen pretended it was a great mysterious road, a river. Anakin, going through a literal phase, insisted that it was only a path through the forest to the meadow.
The children loved the forest and the meadow, and Leia loved exclaiming in wonder at the treasures they brought her: a quirmy bug, a stone with shiny bits trapped in its matrix – rare jewels, perhaps! – or the fragments of an eggshell.
The Crystal Star by Vonda N. McIntyre
Let’s be real. These descriptions of the Solo kids are pretty much accurate understandings of their entire existence.
Also relevant to Solo child love. “Leia reached the meadow. She ran toward the creek where Jaina and Jacen had splashed and played and taught little Anakin to swim.”
18 - three random trivia
((It’s not Munday anymore but I’m not just gonna leave this in my inbox sooooooooo
1) I have a cat named Kiki and she’s a total goofball and partial inspiration for Litten’s personality
2) I’m addicted to the Paper Mario games and have 4/5 of the games(I haven’t played Color Splash yet ;^;)
3) I’M GOING JOB HUNTING TODAY BECAUSE MY MOM IS FINALLY LETTING ME DROP OUT
(College is not for me I can’t do it anymore guys I haven’t gone back in over two weeks it’s too late now anyways)))
Dorothy feels a little weak. She sways a bit back and forth when they stop for water she digs in her pack while Sylvie splashes in the stream, playing with Toto. Her fingers close around a small shiny wrapper and she pulls it up to the light, “Ah, my favorite.”
Lucas drags his gaze over to her, “What is that?”
He blinks and she laughs unwrapping the piece of candy and breaking off a piece, she sets it against his chapped lips, “Dorothy.”
Lucas hums but she pushes the candy in and smiles warmly, “Relax, it’s just chocolate.”