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tbaluver · 3 days ago

Note

HEYYYYYY

I reeeeaaalllyyyy love your father/husband headcannons and I’ve been pondering about how the lad boys would treat mc if she was pregnant?

Hope you have time to do it, but it’s completely fine if you don’t want to!!! <3

I love your work and your kindness! Keep up the amazing work and happy new years!!

How They Treat You When You're Pregnant- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: fluff fluff a/n: HIHI again my angel !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this req reminds me of my first headcanon i ever did for this fandom and i feel like this one is a more accurate one (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) i am always grateful to hear you guys love my work thank you so much luv MWAH ILY !! it always motivates me to write and create more for you all and i hope you're having a happy new years so far !! hopefully i did this req justice lmk what you think !! ahh i hope we get to chat again and i hope you enjoy reading luv (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

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Xavier:

Pregnancy can make sleeping uncomfortable for you and whenever you’re feeling restless, he’s always right there by your side. Whether it’s waking up to comfort you, watching your favorite show together to help you unwind, or adjusting pillows to help you find a comfortable position for you, he’s happy to help. He’ll patiently wait until you’re sleeping peacefully first before he settles back right beside you.

He also doesn’t let you put on an scary movies or shows because you might scare the baby

His face would light up when he hears you want to try one of his favorite weird snack combos. Highlight the word, snacks, because you’re definitely not letting him cook near the microwave or stove.

Xavier is even more protective of you than before, if that’s even possible. Whenever someone gives you a lingering glance in the baby aisle, he’s keeping you close, his arm securely around your waist while giving that person a glance back. When you’re out in public, he doesn’t let anyone get close to your belly bump. Before they can even reach out, he’s already stopping their hand and gently guiding you away.

Xavier attends every doctor’s appointment with you. However, he does NOT like the idea of going to the OBGYN especially if it were a male doctor. You two would be out of the room immediately. However, if you're uncomfortable with any of the doctors in general, he’ll gladly switch and find a better one for you without a second thought.

He’s constantly seeking out new information on pregnancy and babies he can find and has probably read every single online article. He does all of this because he’s determined to learn everything he can to care for you and your future child.

If it were even possible, Xavier would be even gentler with you. He talks softly to your belly, his hands resting gently on your hips as he presses his ear against your stomach, listening and waiting for any movements of your future child. As long as you’re comfortable, he’ll lay down between your legs, his face against your belly while you run your fingers through his soft hair. He’ll mostly fall asleep in this position

Zayne:

Zayne would already notice the subtle signs that you were pregnant before you even realized. He’d pick up the sudden fatigue you’ve been feeling or the way you’ve been extra sensitive to smells. He’s already by your side, holding your hair back as you kneel by the toilet, vomiting. He’ll guide you back to bed, making sure you stay sitting up while he grabs you a couple crackers and a cup of tea.

Zayne is truly an organized and prepared man. He keeps track of everything, noting it down on both his and your phone so that you both have access to all the important details and reminders. He has every date for your checkups, ultrasounds, and any other appointments that are related to both your health and the baby’s. He even makes sure to keep track of which foods are safe for you and which ones to avoid. He’ll keep all the important documents in a file and even keep pictures of the ultrasounds on his desk. Zayne would also have a bag prepared months before your water breaks.

He would let you indulge in anything you crave, as long as it’s safe for you and the baby. He goes the extra mile to prepare you each meal with care and love, making sure that every dish nourishes you and supports the health of your future child. Zayne would have to gently discourage you to not eat dirt covered rocks if you were thinking of craving them. He would also ask his mother some tips when she was pregnant with him.

A surgeon's hands are trained to be precise and steady which makes him the perfect person to give you a massage. With practice care and skill, he’s able to help you release the tension in your muscles, easing every knot and carefully tending to each sore spot. He would not mind if you sat on his lap and guided his hands to your aching breasts or any sore muscle. He'll happily knead and massage them.

You would always know his schedule, so you’re aware when he has to work late. To make sure you’re taken care of when he’s working, he’d stock up on your favorite snacks and meals, making sure to place them within places you can easily reach. Throughout his shift, he’d check in on you during his breaks, texting to ask if you’ve eaten and drank enough water. He’d also make sure to call you during his lunch break just to make sure you’re doing okay and also because he misses you.

Mood swings are a nightmare and not once have they ever bothered him. Zayne is one of the best listeners to any of your worries and also in general. He understands your fears, concerns, and even the times when you overreact. He’s always there to offer you constant reassurance and to take down any fear you had. He would never belittle your emotions and always prioritizes you with unwavering support.

Unfortunately there are nights when he has to come home late, already finding you peacefully asleep in your shared bed. He can’t help but let out a quiet sigh, a soft smile displayed on his face. Quietly, he approaches your sleeping figure, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. His hands delicately trace the curve of your rounded belly before pressing a gentle kiss to it, whispering, “Good job, you didn’t wake up mommy.”

Rafayel:

The studio would ACTUALLY be clean. You’re not really sure if he stopped being lazy or if he hired someone, probably Thomas, to take care of it for him. The floor would be clear of scattered art materials, dried up paint, and the desks would actually be organized. All so you don’t accidentally step or slip on anything or have anything poking or rolling onto your belly when you sit by his desk.

Rafayel is prepared when it comes to baby names. He actually keeps an organized list in his notes app, with his favorites marked by an emoji so he can easily find them. Each name on the list has its own meaning and references. The two of you would cuddle up in bed, sharing new name ideas and laughing at the ones you can’t pronounce, making sure to cross off the ones that didn’t make the cut.

Mood swings were completely new to Rafayel and to you but he quickly learned to keep up with them. He understands that these emotions aren’t easy for you, so he’s always there, even when you need space. He’s always ready to listen and offer support through every high and low and will be there to lift your spirits up whenever you need him.

Sometimes insecurities can weigh on you and you might feel like hiding your baby bump especially when it feels like the maternal clothing isn’t quite your style. But Rafayel is always there and never fails to remind you just how beautiful you are. He’ll go above and beyond to find the perfect maternity clothes that match your taste.

Rafayel would want to document everything so you both have memories to look back on. He’ll take countless pictures of your growing belly each month, capturing the progress so you can look back on how much has changed. He’ll even create his own little maternity photoshoot for you because no other photographer can capture your beauty like him.

Rafayel loves gently caressing your baby bump, often talking to it, hoping that they can hear him. He’ll throw out random names, saying things like, “give me one soft kick if you dun like this name, two kicks if you realllly love it!” and if there was a quiet moment, he’ll say “it’s okay maybe baby glubs is just sleeping.” So he’ll just hum to you and your belly a Lemurian lullaby so you can all drift off into a peaceful slumber.

One of his favorite things to do is preparing a relaxing bath for you. He fills the tub with warm water and adds calming scents, making sure they’re not overpowering, and a few bubbles to help you unwind and soothe any aches or tensions. As he gently washes your body, his hand gently glides over your growing belly, washing away the soap as he imagines the three of you one day swimming together in the ocean as a family.

Sylus:

Every time you wake up or whenever he walks through the door after a long day, he greets you with the sweetest affection. First, a gentle kiss on your forehead, then a soft on your lips, accompanied by a “Hello sweetie,” His eyes then soften as he looks down, his hands gently caressing your baby bump, “and hello our little dove.”

You can always expect pampering from Sylus. He’s right by your side with endless shoulder, back and leg rubs. He can’t imagine how uncomfortable it must feel growing a little one inside of you and how much it takes out, so he’s determined to ease any discomfort in every way possible. He’s learned how pregnancy can change your sense, so he’s careful to use any lotions or oils with certain scents, avoiding anything that could make you feel nauseous or unsettled.

Whenever you have trouble sleeping, he’s there to gently prop up some pillows to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible. He’ll go through his vinyl collection, picking out your favorite or ones that will help you unwind and relax.

He loves you deeply and he knows you’re capable of being independent but he does not want you lifting a finger once your baby bump starts to grow. Even in your early stages of pregnancy, he gently encourages you to take it easy, reminding you that you don’t need to push yourself. With the doctor’s advice to rest often, he’s got all the reasons he needs to insist that you relax. Not a single in the house will be washed by your hands and no clothing will be folded by you. He wants you to relax as much as possible and focus on yourself and your little one.

It’s not hard to wake up Sylus. In fact, he’s already awake before you slip out of his arms to satisfy your late night cravings. Quietly, he trails behind you, wrapping his arms around you. His large hands rest on your tummy as he presses a soft kiss to the back of your head, his warm chest gently against your back. He already memorizes your cravings at this point unless it was something new, so he guides you to the chair by the kitchen counter. “What are you hungry for, sweetie?”

In your early stages of pregnancy, shopping for your baby was fun and something you both enjoyed planning together. But by the time you reached your third trimester, the long walks were beginning to wear you out. So he suggested online shopping together. He didn’t want you to feel left out and he loved seeing your face light up when you found something adorable for the baby, even if it was another plushie to add to the collection. The two of you would settle in on the bed or the couch, face masks on , hair tied back, happily chatting and laughing about the cutest finds and everything the baby needed.

Every doctor’s appointment, he’s right by your side. He’ll hold your hand the entire time, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles. He knows how nerve-wracking these visits can be, especially the anticipation of any results. But just having him there by your side brings your comfort and reminds you that you're never facing it alone.

In general and throughout your pregnancy, he’s always been someone you can lean on. With all the emotions and changes in your body, he’s there to listen and offer comfort. He becomes your safe space where you can express yourself openly with no hesitation.

He can’t deny that he secretly loves being called a to-be- dad’ by Luke and Kieran. There’s a smile that never seems to leave his face, knowing that he will be the father of your child and to experience a new form of love together as a family.

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potatoplace · 16 hours ago

Text

We Can Do This Together

Poly!Feysand x Reader

We Can Do This (part 1) | We Can Fix This (part 2)

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: As you near the end of your pregnancy, your doctor puts you on strict bed rest. Your doting partners make sure that you still get everything you want: your wedding, baby shower, and honeymoon.

Warnings: lots of pregnancy talk, labor (nothing graphic), light smut

Words: ~9.6k

Author's Note: AHHHHH I'm so excited to post this one!!! It is 100% fueled by how baby crazy I would be for Feysand, and also by just how damn CUTE it is (plus some unexpected spiciness, I did not plan on that lol). So enjoy it! I hope you all like this one.c I know I love it 🫶 p.s. this was supposed to be like... 3k long. This got uhhhhh a lil out of hand hehe 🤭 @icey--stars here's the extra part 💖

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Cold gel was smoothed over your massive bump as the doctor worked, one of your hands clutching at Feyre's as she did.

"Sorry, I know it's cold," Madja said as she got a better image, smiling softly down at you.

"It's okay..." you replied, craning your head to try and see the image. "Are they okay?"

Madja squinted at the screen for a moment, before raising a hand to the screen. "All three of the babies seem to be doing just fine, their heartbeats are strong and they're all doing well weight-wise. The main thing I'm concerned about-"

"Don't tell us the cord is wrapped around one of them or one of them doesn't have lungs or-" Rhys panicked, his eyes frantic as he looked at her. She fought back a smile, while you and Feyre both rolled your eyes.

"Neither of those are reality, Rhysand, I am simply worried about Y/N," Madja said with a pointed stare at you, her eyes serious. "Carrying three babies is no easy feat, especially with you still working and being 28 weeks along with triplets. And given that you came in after a fainting spell... I am recommending complete bed rest, and if you must leave the house, you need to be in a wheelchair whenever possible. And I'm going to prescribe some extra vitamins, just so we can keep the little girls inside as long as possible. Understood?" Madja asked you, and as much as you wanted to yell 'no' at the idea of bed rest... You wanted your babies healthier more.

"Okay..." you said poutily.

"We'll make sure she follows your orders, Madja," Feyre said, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

"Good! I'd also recommend massage to help with your circulation, the added benefit is that it will help with some of the aches and pains I'm sure you're feeling. Now, I'll go write those prescriptions, you three sit tight for another moment." Madja left the room, leaving you alone with your two fiancés.

You may not be able to get married in the traditional sense, but Feyre and Rhys had insisted upon a ceremony, as they wanted you to feel just as important in the relationship. You, of course, had agreed immediately, wanting nothing more than to be bound to the two in whatever way you could be. That, and the promise of a week long honeymoon of just the three of you would have been more than enough to convince you.

That had been before you discovered you were carrying triplets, though. You had to be the most fertile woman on the planet, to not only get pregnant after having sex with a condom, but for that to result in triplets. That exciting and terrifying appointment had been just a few weeks after you'd had that horrid haircut...

And now you certainly weren't getting your honeymoon, as it had been planned for three weeks from now, your wedding ceremony the day before you were to leave. With you on bed rest, their might not even be a ceremony at all...

Tears came to your eyes unbidden at the thought, and you tried to blink them away before either Feyre or Rhys saw them. But you were unsuccessful, only causing them to fall faster as disappointment swept over you.

"Oh, little love, what is it?" Rhys asked, one of his hands coming to cup your face and swipe away the tears with his thumb.

His gentle touch only spurred on more tears, a sob ripping through your chest. You covered your face with your hands, rubbing your palms into your eyes to try and stop the tears.

"Y/N, you need to tell us what's wrong so we can fix it, darling," Feyre said softly, her hand moving from your hand up to wrap around you, taking you into her arms as much as she could while you were on the exam table.

"I just- our- our wedding!" You cried, sobbing harder. "Our perfect honeymoon, and the ceremony and the baby shower!"

"Oh, love, we'll still have all of those," Rhys reassured you as he pried your hands off of your face. "The ceremony will be easy enough to do, you'll just need to sit as much as you can. We can do the baby shower at home, or even on the day of our wedding, and the honeymoon we can move to somewhere close by, a cottage by a lake, just the three of us, hmm?" Rhys asked as he cradled your face, keeping your eyes on him.

"See, little love? We can still have all of those things, you'll just be resting as much as possible. Okay?"

You stuck your lip out in a pout, which Rhys immediately caught between his thumb and forefinger.

"What do you say, baby? Will you let us take care of you?"

When he talked to you like that... Even with the hormones raging through you, you couldn't say no.

So you nodded your head.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

"I'm going crazy!" You complained from the couch as Feyre and Rhys bustled around the kitchen, delicious scents wafting over to where you had been banished to.

"You're not going crazy, Y/N, you're just bored!" Feyre called out. "Watch something or play a game, love!"

"But I'm tired of playing games and watching things," you whined, throwing the blanket off of your lap. Your bump made it harder and harder to get up without help, but you managed to push yourself off of the couch.

Over the past three weeks, you had moved into Rhys and Feyre's penthouse for good, your own personal effects now strewn across every room, and your clothes in their closet.

Getting to sleep with them every night had been heavenly, or as heavenly as sleeping at almost eight months pregnant with triplets could be. Their arms around you and soft touches helped lull you to sleep without fail, and waking up next to them and not leaving? Perfection.

The only problem? You'd been put on maternity leave at work! When you could very easily work from home on your laptop, but no. No. Your work had decided that you continuing to work with such a high risk pregnancy was a no-go, so now you were stuck in the loveliest apartment you had never been in, completely and totally bored.

You padded over to the kitchen, fluffy pink bunny slippers on your feet, this pair one that Feyre had gotten after you moved in. Your old slippers no longer fit your widened feet and ankles, and when you had cried over the fact, Feyre had run out and purchased three different pairs of slippers for you, all varying shades of adorable bunnies.

"What are you doing in here?" Rhys scolded, wrapping his arms around you when he turned around. "You're not supposed to be walking around, little love."

Feyre had turned around too, and both of their very mildly disappointed stares on you made you wish you hadn't gotten up. But still...

"I'm bored, I'm so tired of sitting on the couch or laying in bed," you whined into his chest, hands clutching at his shirt.

"There's only one more night that you're going to be this bored, darling, and that's tonight," Feyre said as she took the spot behind you, winding her arms around your middle and stroking your gigantic stomach.

"Because what's tomorrow?" She asked in your ear, sending a small shiver down your spine.

"Our wedding and baby shower," you answered, a big grin on your face as you thought about it.

"That's right, sweet girl," Feyre said, placing a kiss along your neck with every word. "Tomorrow we're getting married, and getting lots of cute gifts while we spend time with our friends, and then the day after?"

"The day after we're going to a lake cabin," you giggled, absolutely giddy at the idea. It wasn't the oceanside resort you had planned to go to, but it was nearly the same, just much closer. After all, the main thing you were excited for was spending every second of every day with your Feyre and your Rhys, celebrating the life you'd all started together eight months ago.

"That's right, Y/N, and you get us for one hundred and twenty uninterrupted hours," Rhys purred, sending a thrill to your core.

The one area you hadn't been bored in? Lovemaking. While Rhys had been too afraid to fuck you roughly, especially in the last three weeks, he and Feyre had made it their personal goal to find every other way there was to make you climax.

"Mm, and I can't wait," you said happily, craning your head to steal a kiss from him.

"Not fair," Feyre whined from behind you, even as she herself stole a kiss from Rhys. "I want one too." You twisted yourself in their arms, a grin on your face as you placed a kiss on Feyre's lips. "Good. Now that we've all gotten our smooches, you can go sit back down on the couch." You went to protest, but Feyre cut you off, "If you're a good girl and only walk when you have to tonight, you'll get a good night surprise from me."

A flush spread over your cheeks at the idea- Feyre's surprises were always the best. "I'll go sit down and be good, if you come with me. Let Rhys finish dinner."

"Hey, I want to come snuggle too," Rhys complained.

"But you're the better cook, Rhysie," Feyre said, already tugging you from his arms and over to the couch. "Besides, we need Y/N to eat soon, and if I stayed alone in the kitchen we'd have to order in!"

Rhys groaned but continued cooking, though you could tell he was doing it with a pout, even if you couldn't see it.

Feyre settled you into the couch, pulling your blue throw blanket that matched her eyes back onto your lap, but left your feet and lower legs uncovered.

"How have you ankles felt?" She asked as she settled down in front of you, grabbing the bottle of lotion that they kept nearby now.

"They've been fine," you said, a hint of a lie in your voice even as you tried to hide it. Feyre caught it, staring at you sternly. "Okay, fine, they've been sore and puffy..."

"That's what I thought, I think we need to start giving you massages twice a day now to keep your circulation going more," Feyre said gently as she started working the lotion into your skin, your head falling back onto the couch pillow. Feyre chuckled at your reaction. "Feel nice, baby?"

You managed to nod, but couldn't find it in yourself to speak. Before you'd been bored and restless, now you were just... tired. Calm. Especially with Feyre's hands on you.

You drifted off quickly, awoken by Rhys's deep laugh. "Did she fall asleep in the ten minutes it took me to finish dinner?"

"She did, I think she was just lonely," Feyre said gently, and you could still feel her hands massaging your ankles with such care.

"I was bored," you mumbled, still not fully awake.

Rhys laughed again, softer this time. "Of course you were, darling. Are you ready for dinner?" His hand stroked over your hair, his touch bringing you back to awareness.

"Dinner?" You asked sleepily, blinking to clear your eyes.

"That's right, dinner. You should eat something before you take your vitamins."

You made a face at the idea of vitamins, so many tiny little pills to swallow. But dinner...

"Dinner sounds good."

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Tears were pouring down your face as you stood in front of a floor length mirror, taking in how you looked.

"Oh, Y/N, don't cry! You look absolutely beautiful!" Emerie said, dabbing the tears off your face with a tissue.

"I know, I just-" you cried. "I just love them so much!"

"Oh, I know you do! Which is why you're getting married to them! So no more happy tears until you see them at the end of the aisle, hmm?"

You sniffled but nodded your head, doing your best to stop your tears as Emerie wiped the remaining ones from your already made up face. "Okay. I can try."

"Good. Now, does everything with your dress look right? And the veil? And your hair?"

You looked yourself over again, fighting back more tears- happy ones, thankfully, but tears nonetheless. Your soft, silk white dress had a Queen Anne neckline with cap sleeves and a flowing waistline that hung prettily over your bump, more flattering and pretty than you'd thought possible with how massive you were now. It met the floor, just barely dragging over it as you walked, and your feet were clad in comfortable ballet slippers, with an extra support stuffed inside that Feyre had insisted upon.

Your hair was lovely, having grown back out a bit, laying in soft curls and your bangs styled. Your veil was beautiful, attached to your head with a small tiara and flowing down to the backs of your knees, made of a delicate white lace.

"Everything is perfect," you breathed, fingering the necklace that Rhys and Feyre had gifted you four months ago, tiny starbursts of diamonds surrounding three square sapphires, one for each of your daughters.

Emerie smiled at you in the mirror, then began guiding you back to the couch against the wall of the dressing room. "Good, because you should be getting your cue to walk out any minute now!"

True enough, the moment after you sat down, Mor knocked on the dressing room door and opened it, peeking inside. "Oh good, you're ready, come along now!" She squealed, helping Emerie pull you back to your feet.

The two of them helped walk you to the double doors that separated you from your future. Emerie fluffed out the short train of your dress while Mor pulled the doors open, and the both of them stepped aside to let you pass through on your own.

The moment you saw them standing there, Rhys and Feyre, you thought you might faint.

Rhys looked fantastic in his fine black suit with silver stitching, his blue-black hair styled into the soft curls that you loved so much, a slight blush on his cheeks when he met your eyes across the hall, his signature smirk softened into something even lovelier. His dark purple tie brought a smile to your own lips, the dare that you and Feyre had made him take after teasing him about not only wearing black at the wedding.

And Feyre... Feyre took your breath away, her golden brown hair styled into pretty ringlets, her own veil carefully pinned onto the crown of her head. Her dress was beautiful, clinging to her curves before flowing out at her hips, with tiny spaghetti straps holding the bodice to her chest. A flush spread over her cheeks and chest when she looked at you, a smile taking up her whole face.

You finally remembered to start moving when Feyre wiggled her fingers at you, your face turning bright red as you slowly made your way down the aisle, giggling when you met Feyre and Rhys at the end, who both immediately wrapped an arm around you to help take the pressure off of your feet.

The ceremony flew by, with you hardly remembering a single word of what had been said, your mind more preoccupied with how loved and cherished the two people you were now bonded to made you feel.

Your first kiss married to the two of them was from Feyre, Rhys having muttered something like "Ladies first," to Feyre.

It was magical, getting to kiss your wife and husband, and Rhys had you giggling when he immediately scooped you into his arms, careful not to squish the babies. He carried you from the wedding hall to the attached reception hall, a large couch in the center of it with chairs, tables, and a few other, smaller couches set up as well. He gently set you onto the couch in the center before settling beside you, Feyre taking up the spot on your other side.

That was something he loved doing- literally sweeping you off of your feet whenever he had the chance, especially over the past three weeks. You didn't mind one bit, not when it meant snuggling into his chest while he carried you up a set of stairs, or being held the entire duration of the elevator ride when you could suck little marks on his neck, enjoying the pleasured hiss he would let out.

You let out a contented sigh as you leaned your head on Rhys, letting it sink in.

You're married.

Emerie quickly began taking charge of the festivities, ordering for the food to be set out and music to be played, even bossing Mor into dancing with her before they'd had a bite to eat.

Rhys had gone to get a plate for the three of you, coming back with it piled high with beef pot roast, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and green beans- it had been your idea after seeing the fancy displays the caterer had made, your stomach rolling at the sight even though you knew it would taste just fine.

The babies had had a different, less logical idea.

So pot roast it was, the other dishes suggestions from Feyre and Rhys.

Rhys took great pride in feeding both you and Feyre, only taking his own bites when the two of you decided to steal the fork from him and feed him yourselves. Rhys would steal back the fork and continue feeding you as much as you could handle, rubbing your back as you chewed each bite. Which of course only spurred you on to eat more, wanting more of his soft smiles and gentle touch.

You could only eat so much, though, before you collapsed back against the couch cushions, rubbing at your tummy and delighting in the little kicks that your hands were met with.

They were happy too.

The ceremony had been small, no more than 30 people that the three of you had trusted to share this experience with. Your own family had declined to attend, which had stung at first, before you realized that you had a new family, one that would support you unconditionally.

And that was all that you needed, all that your babies needed.

After an hour or so, Emerie decided that it was time to open presents- likely sensing the inevitable lag in your energy that would happen sooner or later.

Presents were piled around the couch you and your spouses were sat on, far too many in your opinion. But truly? You were touched that people wanted to spoil your babies so thoroughly, when they hadn't even arrived yet.

The combined wedding reception and baby shower went by quickly at first, but your energy began to lag after the second hour, your head resting against Feyre's shoulder between presents. After a while you stopped opening them, preferring to react sleepily while your partners tore apart wrapping paper and peeked into bags.

So many baby clothes, all of the outfits coming in three matching sets and each one getting you closer and closer to tears as you thought about your babies snuggled up in cute onesies, or in the little fox outfits that Lucien and Elain had gifted you.

You gained a small second wind after the cake was cut, strawberry with a lemon filling a pretty strawberry icing, your favorite since you had grown pregnant.

Feyre and Rhys had both offered you the first bite, which had made you laugh, both of them waving forks in front of your face to try and sway you to choose theirs. Instead, you directed Rhys's fork to Feyre, and Feyre's to Rhys, only taking a bite from each of them after they'd had their own.

Soon enough, though, you were out of energy again, dozing off against Rhys's shoulder while Feyre went to the restroom. He had you sit up for a moment which had made you grumble, before pulling you back against him after draping his suit jacket over your arms and back.

"Thank you, husband," you murmured against him.

"You're welcome, sweet wife," he cooed, placing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

The clicking of heels just barely alerted you to Feyre's presence before she spoke. "Awe, is she all tuckered out?"

Rhys chuckled quietly. "I think so, darling. Should we get her home?"

You mumbled against his chest.

"What was that?"

You sighed but moved your face away from him a bit. "We haven't danced yet," you whined.

"Oh, love, I don't know if-"

"Madja said I could dance to one song, maybe two if I rest for a bit between them. Please?" You begged, using your best puppy dog eyes on the two of them.

Feyre sighed, but you knew she was going to give in. "Alright, since Madja said it was okay. But if you get tired you need to tell us, yeah?"

You nodded. "Of course, my pretty wifey," you said, and shrugged off Rhys's jacket. Feyre's blush was delightful, and you let her and Rhys help you stand, immediately clinging to her once you were. "I really just want to sway with you..."

"We can sway," Feyre said, wrapping her arms around you.

"Can I join or are we doing separate dances?" Rhys asked cheekily from behind you, already winding his arms around both of you, sandwiching you between them.

Just how you loved to be.

"Dances together, of course," you insisted, squeezing one of his hands. "Everything together, I think." You rested your head on Feyre's shoulder, smiling when you heard the sound of their lips meeting.

This was right where you needed to be, for the rest of time.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The party had wound down early, with you falling asleep on Feyre's shoulder while she and Rhys talked to their close friends, their conversations garnering the occasional sleepy giggle from you when you managed to pay attention long enough.

Mostly, it was Cassian and Mor teasing Rhys about having two wives that were far prettier than he would ever be, and Rhys adamantly agreeing with it, to which Cassian and Mor would reiterate how he is not the prettiest person in his relationship. They were obviously trying to rile him up, but it seemed Rhys's overwhelming love for how you and Feyre look overrode any need of his to proclaim himself the most gorgeous person in the room.

It was only once you had drooled the tiniest bit on Feyre's shoulder that your husband and wife declared the festivities over, at least for the three of you. Rhys had scooped you into his arms once more, this time carrying you to the town car waiting to take the three of you home.

You dozed between the two of them on the way home, feeling safe and content. The drive was short, no more than ten minutes, but by the time you arrived, you were more than ready to stay in the car and sleep there until the morning.

Thankfully for you, Rhys pulled you gently into his arms and carried you all the way up to the penthouse, Feyre opening and closing the doors. You blinked yourself awake when you felt your dress being unzipped and tugged from your body, watching Feyre put it on a hanger and store it in the closet before Rhys helped her remove her own dress.

You sighed dreamily at the sight of her, clad in white lace lingerie like the perfect, pretty present that she was.

"Like what you see, darling?" She asked teasingly as she undressed Rhys slowly, grinning when she saw your eyes catch on his muscled torso.

"Mmhm," you hummed. "Come over here and I'll show you just ho-" the rest of your sentence was cut off by a wide yawn, drawing a chuckle from Rhys.

"I think you can wait to show her until tomorrow, little love," Rhys said, crossing the room once he was down to his boxers.

Also purple, like his tie.

"But I want to-"

"I would much rather help you take a bath, darling," Feyre said softly, already taking both of your hands in hers to help you up. "We can celebrate tomorrow, when we're all feeling refreshed and at the cabin. Doesn't that sound nice?"

You pouted at her for a half a second before giving in- after all, a bath did sound heavenly right now...

"Okay, as long as both of you take one with me."

"We wouldn't dream of doing it any other way, love," Rhys murmured in your ear, picking you up a moment later. "Now let's get us all warm and clean and cozy."

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You woke tangled in the blankets the next morning, somehow having stolen nearly the entirety of it from your wife and husband, leaving them curled up close to you, half covered.

Not a bad view, you thought to yourself, drinking in the way the sunlight hit their skin, the curves of their bodies.

But still, the thought that had woken you needed to be tended to.

Though getting out of bed without waking either Rhys or Feyre... Would be tricky, seeing as you were nestled between them, their arms looped over you.

You started with Rhys first, he was always a bit of a heavier sleeper than Feyre. His arm was carefully placed over his side, though it immediately started creeping forward in its search for warmth.

The moment you moved Feyre's arm though, her eyes fluttered open, gorgeous blue meeting your own. The sleepy smile she gave you made you wish you had a camera in your hands, it was so soft and cute and sweet... Just like her.

You couldn't help it, you leaned forward to steal a sweet kiss from her, which she gladly gave, her arm tightening around your middle, pressing your bump to her tummy.

"Why are you up so early, love?" She whispered. "Did you need the bathroom?"

Well... "Yes, but I need to do something in the nursery too..."

Feyre's eyes narrowed briefly, likely having guessed what you wanted to do after relieving yourself.

"Okay, let's get you up, sweetheart," she whispered, getting out of bed herself before helping you swing your legs over the side, then pulling you to your feet. Her eyes lingered over your exposed bump and breasts, and you could sense that she was resisting pinching you somewhere.

Once you had used the bathroom, Feyre helped you get dressed in a comfortable lilac wrap dress and your purple bunny slippers before getting dressed herself. She slipped on a pair of light blue jean shorts with a forest green tshirt, looking even lovelier than ever.

Of course, that's what you thought every time you saw her, but it was still true.

"Let's get you to the nursery, love," Feyre said softly, letting one of your arms wrap around her while she did the same, helping support you as you walked the short distance to the nursery, only a door down from the master bedroom.

Inside of the pastel pink nursery, three cribs had already been set up, little mobiles dangling over them. There were already three pastel dressers that had been half filled with tiny baby clothes, carefully arranged by you into age groups, and three matching changing tables lined up against one wall, already stocked with all you would need to change the babies.

There was also a large couch against the back wall, a nursing chair positioned next to it in the corner. Both were heavenly to sit in, and remembering how long it had taken you to pick them out made you smile. Feyre and Rhys had been insistent on you getting only the most comfortable furniture for you, as you would be the one using them the most while breastfeeding.

In the middle of the room, covering most of the area rug with little animals on it, were the gifts from yesterday. None of them had been put away- good, you thought. You would only have arranged them all over again by yourself, needing them to be organized just how you liked.

Nesting, as it turned out, was very much you being overly needy about how things looked in the bedroom and nursery, but especially the nursery.

"I'll go make us some tea and be back in a few moments, alright love?" Feyre asked, waving a hand in front of your face when you didn't respond, only stared at the large pile. "Sit down, Y/N, I'll be back in a minute to help you sort it all out, don't worry."

She left the room, and you could hear how quickly she moved down the hallway. Maybe she was anxious about leaving you alone...

You sighed and sat down on the floor on your knees, not sure how better to position yourself. Picking through the pile, you started to sort the clothes out into their different age ranges, starting from newborn and going up to two years.

It was only five minutes later when Feyre returned, a tray with a pot of tea and three cups resting on it in her hands. "What are you doing on the floor?"

You blinked at her for a moment. "Uh... Sitting?"

"I can see that, silly, I meant for you to sit on the couch!" Feyre tsked, setting down the tray and holding her hands out for you to take. "Come on, little love, it's not good for you to be sitting like that."

You sighed and scrunched your face, but took Feyre's hands and let her help you onto the couch.

"Don't worry, I'll help you sort everything out exactly how you want. Now... How were you organizing this?" Feyre asked, kneeling in front of the pile.

"Well..."

It was maybe an hour later when you and Feyre had finished sorting all of the clothing that Rhys burst through the nursery door, a panicked look on his face.

"Are you okay? Are the babies okay?" He asked frantically, already by your side, assessing you with his hands and eyes.

You slapped his hands away gently when he tried to take your pulse, giggling at his antics. "I am just fine, darling. Are you okay?"

Rhys let out a breath of relief. "Of course, I was just worried when I woke up and both of you were gone..."

Feyre laughed and wrapped her arms around Rhys's shoulders. "You're such a mother hen, Rhysie. We just wanted you to sleep in a little bit, and Y/N wanted to organize all the new baby clothes we were given yesterday," she explained, rolling her eyes over his shoulder at you.

"I'm no mother hen, if anyone is a mother hen, then it's you, my dear Feyre."

"Oh, that's bull and you know it Rhys. You barely let Y/N take a step these days!"

It was Rhys's turn to roll his eyes. "Like you wouldn't also be carrying her everywhere if you could?" Feyre was silent, looking away with a smile growing on her face. "That's what I thought, darling. Now, if all the clothes are sorted, I thought we could get on the road soon," Rhys suggested, smiling when he saw your eyes light up.

"Yes, let's hit the road!" You exclaimed, and started to push yourself off the couch. Rhys and Feyre chuckled at your enthusiasm and helped you up, the three of you heading into the bedroom together.

"I think we have everything packed already, besides the blankets and pillows," Rhys said as he pulled the four duffel bags he had packed two days ago onto the bed, three stuffed full of the clothing you would be needing for the next five days, the other stuffed with toiletries, your vitamins, books, and a couple of canvases for Feyre. She would also be bringing her travel easel, packed tightly with the brushes and paints she would need to paint you in the water, as she had declared she would be doing.

And, of course, the go bag. Stuffed full of anything you would need should you go into labor, it was a must to take with you. It had the first onesies you wanted the babies to wear, lilac with a customized saying on it: 'Mommy's and Daddy's and Mommy's girl'.

You had cried when you opened them, a surprise from Feyre and Rhys two months ago.

Also inside was a Polaroid camera, a digital camera, a film camera - you wanted everything documented, and you wanted it done right... though, not the birth... That could stay off film for good.

"Is there anything else you can think of?" Feyre asked you, her pretty eyes distracting you from the question.

"Uhm... No?" You answered, your mind not coming up with anything.

"Then I do believe that we are ready to go!" Feyre said cheerily, guiding you to sit down on the bed so that she could change your shoes.

"I'll take the bags down, do not let her leave the apartment until I come back up," Rhys demanded, fixing you with a stern eye. You blushed but nodded, not wanting a repeat of your fainting spell three weeks ago.

Less than ten minutes later you were bundled into the car, your favorite pillow clutched in your lap, along with Feyre's hands. She played with your fingers the whole car ride, even when she was kissing you.

Which was nearly the entire time, both of you deciding that you didn't really need air anyways to live, you'd much rather breathe each other in.

You could hear Rhys's longing, quiet groans whenever he glanced at the two of you in the rear view mirror, and whenever you looked at him he had a slight flush to his face and neck, which only made both of you more enthusiastic.

"Oh mother, you two will be the death of me," Rhys grumbled, and you saw his right hand lower to his lap and heard the rustle of fabric.

"Hey, hands on the wheel, Rhysie," you said between kisses, tilting your neck to give Feyre access.

"Easier said than done..." He sighed, but moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

"You'll get your turn once we arrive, don't you worry husband," Feyre said against your skin, sending a shudder through you.

By the time you arrived you were a needy wreck, putty in Feyre's capable hands where they had slid below your dress, playing with your breasts.

"Alright, girls, my turn," Rhys growled as he pulled you from the car, entering the cottage once Feyre had unlocked the door and making a beeline for the bedroom. He set you down carefully, so gently that it brought tears to your eyes. "None of that sweet love, unless it's from too much pleasure," Rhys said quietly against the skin of your neck, just below your ear.

Feyre dipped onto the bed a moment later, her hand sneakily undoing the tie of your dress, which fell open easily, baring you to both of them.

"Too much pleasure? I think she can handle it," Feyre purred, her hand already snaking down your tummy and to your cunt, chuckling lowly when she felt the wetness that she'd created. "Don't you, sweet girl?"

You nodded your agreement, mouth falling slightly open when she dipped a finger inside of you.

Oh yes. You could handle this.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

An hour of their hands exploring every inch of you and another hour peacefully dozing in their embrace later, and Rhys was disentangling himself from the pile of limbs the three of you had made.

"Where are you going?" Feyre asked sleepily from your left, her breath warm against your chest.

"I'm going to go get food for our time here," Rhys replied, and you hear the shuffle of fabrics and jingle of his belt.

"I wanna go," you yawned, stretching your legs out and sighing at how lovely it felt.

Rhys kneeled on the mattress and over you, a thumb stroking over your cheek prompting your eyes to open. "If you go to the store, you know you have to be in a wheelchair the whole time, right darling?"

You scrunched your face up for a second. You hated using the wheelchair. But...

"I want to pick out snacks and drinks," you insisted, raising your own hand to cup his face. "You're so preeetty."

Rhys smiled, a toothy, adorable thing. "Okay, okay, so long as you stay in the wheelchair you can come shopping. I take it you'll want to come as well, Fey?"

"Of course, I'm not going to be left alone here while my wife and husband go shopping," Feyre said cheerily, already pulling herself into a sitting position. Rhys helped you do the same, and then to stand.

You all finished getting redressed before Rhys scooped you into his arms again and depositing you gently into the backseat, even buckling you up and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The trip into the lakeside town was short, no more than ten minutes, and you were relieved to see it had a small hospital, just as Rhys and Feyre had reassured you.

The local grocery store was cute and fairly large, and hopefully housing all of the items that you were hoping to get. You were wheeled inside, your cheeks flaming red as you saw people stare at your large baby bump and the two gorgeous people with you.

You never had liked being stared at... Unless it was Feyre and Rhys doing the staring.

Feyre pushed a cart while Rhys pushed you along, all of you picking out ingredients for dinner, breakfast, and the occasional snack, that was until you reached the candy aisle.

Recently you'd been craving chocolate- chocolate bars, chocolate cookies, chocolate covered fruit, chocolate anything.

And today was no different.

"Okay, Y/N, you can pick out five different candies if you'd like, and we'll all share them," Feyre said, obviously having noticed how your eyes were flitting over the choices.

"Five? Really?" You asked, surprised. One item a day, even if you were sharing, seemed like a lot.

"Yes, five," Feyre chuckled. "You don't have to pick out that many if you don't want to, but I thought since it's our honeymoon and all, that you could have some extra sweetness to go with you... extra sweetness," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at the last two words.

You only flushed further, though this time was from anticipation. Still, you made yourself take your time to pick out your items, not wanting to regret not choosing something later when the cravings struck.

With everything picked out, Feyre went to the cash register while Rhys took you back to the car, gently lifting you inside and buckling you in once more, this time with a heated kiss press to your lips.

You were breathless when he pulled away, your heart fluttering. "I love you," you whispered against his lips, smiling widely when he said the words back to you.

Feyre returned a moment later with the groceries, and once everything was unloaded and they were both buckled in, you were headed back to the cottage.

Rhys carried you inside once again, this time sitting you on the couch that faced a window, overlooking the lake that was right there.

"Can we go swimming soon?" You asked once both of them were seated beside you, groceries put away.

"Of course, love," Feyre said as she nuzzled into your shoulder.

"After you've eaten something, and rested for a bit," Rhys added, already up from the couch in search of something for you to have for lunch.

"Mother hen," you muttered, drawing a laugh from Feyre.

"I told him so," she giggled into your shoulder.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Swimming had been lovely, the three of you floating in the shallow end- or rather, you floating in the shallow end as Rhys and Feyre fought with tiny squirt guns while keeping a close eye on you.

After a bit they had called on you to play referee, but you kept forgetting how many points they had and eventually called it a tie, with the winners both receiving big smooches from you.

Rhys had insisted upon carrying you out of the water and back into the cottage without even drying off, leaving a trail of water behind you as he carried you to the bedroom and into the massive bathroom, taken up by a bathing pool that could easily fit five people.

He stripped both of you out of your bathing suits and lowered you into the water, grinning when you let out a pleased sigh at the warmth. He shifted so he was behind you, your back resting against his chest and sat between his legs, his hands stroking over your belly as the babies kicked softly.

Feyre came in a moment later, clad in only a towel, though not for long. She joined you in the tub, settling in to the right of you after pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

The water was warm, but not so warm that you couldn't soak with them for a while. You were already drifting off in Rhys's embrace, the warmth of the water and excitement from the day tugging you into the place between sleep and awareness, drifting through it as you felt Feyre and Rhys's soft hands, heard them kissing above you.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning you had demanded to go swimming after breakfast, not caring that the water was still somewhat cool in the morning sun.

Feyre had decided that she very much cared, choosing to stay on the patio and paint you swimming.

Rhys was happy to swim, and even happier to have you float in his arms as he slowly tugged you through the water, completely relaxed in his hold.

Eventually, though, your skin was pruned and your stomach grumbling for a snack, and Rhys had to drag you out of the water, a pout on your face while he carried you to the patio.

"You can go back in after you've let your stomach rest a bit, love," Feyre reassured you as she patted you dry with a towel, then tied your swim dress around you.

"I know..." You pouted. "Will you join us next time?"

Feyre glanced over at her easel, a half finished painting still on it. "I suppose the rest of the painting can wait until tomorrow, if you'll be swimming then too?"

You nodded vigorously. "Oh, I plan to swim as much as I can while we're here. Once the babies come, it'll be even harder to find the time, and I think they really like it when I'm swimming," you smiled, rubbing a hand over your tummy, a small kick being enough to convince you that you were right.

Feyre placed her hand over yours, smiling when she also felt a kick, this one stronger, like she was showing off for her second mom.

"Well, let's go get you lunch then, so we can get you back in the water," Feyre said, leading you back into the cottage and to the dining table.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

When you had finished swimming that evening, Rhys and Feyre both helped you bathe again- which really meant that they washed you twice, both of them running their hands over every inch of skin, with Feyre's fingers dipping between your thighs, Rhys's mouth swallowing your cries when you came under her touch.

You watched them bathe each other, which was somehow more erotic than doing it yourself, your own hands reaching up to cup your breasts while you stared at them hungrily.

You were fixed with identical feline smirks after you let a gasp slip loose, the look in their eyes promising you nothing but trouble.

"Does our sweet girl like watching us?" Feyre crooned as she kneeled over you, your gaze locked on hers.

"Mhmm..." You nodded, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue. "Would.. Rhys?"

"Yes, darling?" Rhys asked lowly from behind Feyre.

"Would you..." You blushed heavily even at the thought. "Would you fuck Feyre? Hard," you said. "I... I want to watch you fuck her until she screams," you whispered, your blush intensifying under their gazes.

"Are you asking me to fuck my pretty wife while my other pretty wife watches?" Rhys asked teasingly, and you nodded. "What do you say, Feyre?" He asked her, pulling her hair aside and kissing along the expanse of her neck.

"Mm, I say yes- as long as I get to eat Y/N's sweet cunt while you do," Feyre said, a wicked glint in her eyes as she looked you over.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Rhys said lowly. "I do think it requires a change of scenery, though."

A moment later Rhys had hoisted a squealing Feyre over his shoulder, and you heard the bounce of a mattress as he deposited her on it, only moments later returning for you, a hungry look in his eyes.

"Once Feyre is done eating you, it'll be my turn, little love," he whispered in your ear as he brought you into the bedroom. Your eyes caught on Feyre, already on her knees and forearms on the bed.

You giggled with anticipation, more than ready for whatever the night would bring the three of you.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning, you were awoken by a dull ache in your abdomen. You tried to disentangle yourself from Rhys and Feyre's arms, but they both stirred awake before you made much progress.

"Bathroom?" Rhys asked sleepily in your ear, his hand rubbing over your stomach in a soothing pattern.

"Mm... I think so," you whispered, wiggling your hips against him, delighting in the soft moan he let out.

"Wicked girl... Come on, let's get you up."

You relieved yourself quickly and exited the bathroom, finding Rhys and Feyre sitting in bed together, both yawning.

"I'm sorry I woke you up..." you said quietly, padding back to the bed and plopping yourself back down between them.

"Oh, nonsense Y/N," Feyre said softly, carding her fingers through your hair. "Don't ever feel bad about waking us up. Especially when you come back to bed for snuggles."

You hummed in agreement, but winced when another pain went through you.

"Are you okay, love?" Rhys asked, pressing a hand to your forehead.

"Mhm, just... a little pain happening."

Feyre frowned above you. "Pain? Where?"

Your expression matched her own as you placed your hand over your lower abdomen, at the bottom of your baby bump. "And a little in my back, too," you said, just before you realized.

Oh shit.

"I'm going into labor," you said, fear creeping over you.

"You're going into labor!" Both Rhys and Feyre exclaimed at the same time you spoke, all three of you exchanging looks before you all laughed for a moment, until it sunk in.

"Oh fuck, you're going into labor!" Rhys yelled, jumping up from the bed. "Quick, we need to get dressed and get the go bag and get in the car!"

You and Feyre shared a look, both of you still on the bed.

"Uhm... Rhys?" You asked, watching as he flew around the room, picking out a dress for you and Feyre and grabbing his own clothes, throwing them on quickly.

He paused for a moment, looking over to see the two of you, still relatively calm. "What? Why aren't you moving? Get up, get up!"

Feyre laughed from beside you. "Rhysie, she's not having contractions very close together, and her water hasn't broken yet. We don't have to rush quite so much."

He blinked at her for a moment, considering her words. "Nope, nope, get dressed. I'll make us some breakfast and pack everything up, but after that, it's the hospital for all of us!" Rhys exclaimed, breezing out of the room with his shirt unbuttoned and belt unbuckled.

You and Feyre shared a laugh together, muttering about him being a mother hen to each other, but you could tell that Feyre was nervous. Not that you weren't.

After all... You could very well be pushing three little humans out of you today, and if not today, then tomorrow.

Talk about scary...

Feyre helped dress you, the soft pink wrap dress that Rhys picked out comfortable and loose against your skin, soft slippers secured on your feet.

When you entered the main room, Rhys was already in a flurry of activity, switching between stirring the oatmeal he was cooking on the stove and packing up whatever he could get his hands on.

Feyre made sure you were sat at the table before disappearing into the bedroom, likely packing up all of your clothing and possessions to keep Rhys from having a heart attack at how much there was to do, and how little time he thought he had.

"I've already called Madja, she's going to meet us at the hospital in town in no more than two hours," Rhys informed you as he set a bowl of oatmeal in front of you. "How are you feeling? Any more contractions?" He asked with a gentle hand on your cheek.

"I'm doing fine so far, Rhysie. No more contractions yet."

"Good. Good," Rhys said, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. "Eat up, little love." He started to leave the table, but you caught your hand around his wrist.

"Wait," you pleaded. "Eat with me? Please?"

Rhys's expression softened at your tone, some of his panic ebbing away. "Of course, Y/N. I'll go get Feyre, and we can all eat together."

You smiled brightly at him, pleased that you would have one last meal as a family of three, rather than a family of six.

It was peaceful, once you had gotten both Rhys and Feyre to sit down and eat, both of them keeping a soothing hand on some part of you at all times.

The babies were kicking like crazy, obviously sensing that their time inside you was coming to an end, and seeming very excited to meet the world.

The calm ended once your face pinched with another contraction, though, Rhys immediately springing up to get the dishes washed and finish packing the rest of your things and lugging them out to the car.

Feyre sat with you while he bustled about, her hand resting over yours on your stomach while she talked about everything and nothing to distract you.

But soon Rhys had hoisted you into his arms once again and strapped you into the backseat, a sweet kiss pressed to your temple before he shut the door.

Feyre buckled in beside you, and you rested your head on her shoulder during the drive, soaking in the love she was giving you as she held you and stroked your hair.

By the time you reached the hospital, the contractions were coming closer together and lasting longer, a sure sign that you were nearing full-on labor.

Rhys settled you into a wheelchair before quickly leaving to park the car, promising that he would bring the go bag and for you and Feyre to head inside.

You and Feyre did just that, Feyre pushing you in to the front desk.

"Hello, what can I help you with?" The nurse asked, her eyes glued to the paperwork on her desk.

"Hi, uh, my wife is going into labor," Feyre replied, a hand running through your hair.

"Your wi-" The woman began to ask before she looked at the two of you, eyes sticking on the large bump of your belly. "Oh. I'll page OB right away, here's some paperwork for you to fill out."

"Thank you," Feyre said, grabbing the clipboard and pen from her and settling it in your lap before wheeling you over to the waiting area.

You had nearly finished filling out the paperwork together when Rhys flew through the doors, looking around frantically before his eyes landed on the two of you, immediately crossing the room to sit by you.

"Oh, good, you didn't get taken up yet. Well... Not good, but you know what I mean," Rhys rambled.

...

"This is the first time I've seen you nervous," you remarked, smiling when he looked offended.

"I am not nervous, I am appropriately aware of everything that is happening."

"Nervous," Feyre said, earning a light swat on the thigh from Rhys. "It's okay, Rhysie, I'm nervous too."

"Me too," you admitted, rubbing your belly absently.

"Well... Good, we're all nervous, we can all be nervous together," Rhys said, bobbing his head up and down.

You giggled at him, but was cut off by another contraction taking you off guard.

"Man... These things are annoying..."

"Y/N Night?" A nurse called from across the room, her eyes already locked on the three of you. Or, more specifically, the bump you possessed.

You were taken up to the second floor and given a nice room with a good view out the window, not that you could see it with all the doctors in the room.

As you were being transferred from a wheelchair to your bed, your water had broken, spilling down your legs and onto your feet.

The sensation had brought tears to your eyes, and your loving partners had so kindly cleaned you up without even a word of complaint, instead choosing to press loving kisses to your forehead and cheeks and hands as often as they could.

Madja had arrived only a half an hour after the three of you had, entering the room and parting the sea of doctors with her presence alone. Immediately she had given you steroids to help the babies' lungs develop as much as they could before you went into full labor, and had given you an epidural.

The feeling of your lower half being numb? Not your favorite. But you supposed it was better than feeling every contraction moving through you.

Rhys was pacing in the room, not able to stay still for a moment unless he was touching you in some way, but the fleet of doctors that had come to witness a birth of triplets had made that more and more difficult as the day wore on, to the point that you were beginning to feel a bit touch starved.

Feyre had stayed calmer, sitting in a chair that had a direct line of sight to you, but you saw her legs bouncing up and down, growing faster whenever a new doctor would touch and examine you.

After three hours of waiting to be left alone with your husband and wife, you were feeling fed up. Madja had just reentered the room after giving a short briefing to Rhys and Feyre, the two of them trailing behind her.

You made a pouty face, hoping that you looked as sad as you felt, not having enough access to your spouses.

Thankfully for you, Madja knew almost every one of you looks at this point, having seen you at least once a week for the past six months.

"Alright, that's enough exams for now, let's let the mother rest a bit," Madja commanded, the sea of white coats filtering out the door, taking their mumbled words with them.

You had a feeling that more than a few of them would have said choice words about the parenting situation of the babies.

But that didn't matter. Because when you looked at Feyre and Rhys, now by your sides, each holding one of your hands? You knew that you had everything you would ever need.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Eight more hours later, and you were blessed with three beautiful, healthy baby girls. They were all small, yes, and were nearly swimming in their first onesies, but they were healthy.

They were healthy, and you had made it through labor safely, thanks to Madja's expertise.

And, of course, the parents of your children, who had stuck by you throughout the entire labor, offering their hands to squeeze and dabbing away your sweat and fanning you when you felt too hot.

They were perfect.

Your babies were perfect.

Life was perfect.

Little Astra, Aurora, and Ayla had already lit up your life with their presences, their tiny coos and cries music to your ears.

Rhys and Feyre had managed to squeeze themselves onto your hospital bed, each of you holding one of your precious little nuggets.

You had Ayla in your arms, the smallest of the triplets, but the loudest. Rhys had Astra, who had been born with a thick tuft of blue-black hair, her violet eyes wide as she surveyed the room. And Feyre was holding Aurora, the largest and most mobile of the three, her little hand already grasping at your fingers when you offered them to her.

You were exhausted, of course, but before you went to sleep for the first time as a mother, you wanted to snuggle and feed your babies, and spend some quiet time with your lovers.

"They're so..." You sighed, unable to even finish the thought.

"Perfect?" Rhys asked.

"Amazingly adorable?" Feyre suggested.

"Yes and yes. I just know... I know that they will own me forever," you said softly, taking in a deep huff of baby smell.

Fresh, sweet baby.

You could hardly believe that a one night stand, no matter how fantastic, had lead to this.

You had a family now, made up of two loving spouses and three perfect little babies.

And even if things got hard, which they surely would... You knew that everything would be alright.

Because the three of you? You can do this, together.

🤍🩵💖💜🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 days ago

Note

Hi ;) I really like your works!!!! But I'm craving for II (really). So I would be glad if you would write something very sweet related to him. For example, inside the mind of II: how he secretly cares about reader more than she know.

All of the small things that you do

He is super attentive but as I have said before I think he’s more of a do not tell guy. So if he is doing something for you you would never catch him going “Yeah… well I did that or this for you”. He just does it. It’s second nature for him. And the range is wild because he loves to look after you.

So we could go from house chores. While it usually flows dynamically, there are parts that you had split and it worked just fine for you two. There are times when ii can tell that you are not in the right mindset to worry about a dirty bathroom or laundry. So he’s ticking your to-do list off for you. Sorting out your product for you on your side of the sink. Ones you had left scattered in the morning. By now more than aware of how you placed them. That’s also the time he looks through your product. Taking pictures of the ones that were running low so that he could simply show the picture and get the right thing.

“I think I’m tripping”, you would step out of the bathroom making ii lift his head from the wordle game he was playing. “I swear this morning the tub was almost empty”, you lift your moisturizer, holding the towel wrapped around your body with the other. “Am I tripping?”, you ask and ii can see the weight of the day still making your brain turn. “I grabbed it for you while I was out with the boys today”, he says so casually and you can’t help but look at him for a heartbeat. “You… you went to the makeup shop with the boys?”, you ask making ii shoot you one of his signature glares. “Yeah? Is there an issue we were in the area anyway”, he shrugged, “The lady recommended iii olaplex for his hair”, you can’t help but snort slightly at that, sitting down on the bed before leaning in to kiss your boyfriend, “you didn’t have to”. “I didn’t but I wanted to”, he cups your cheeks, squeezing them, “Put it on and come to bed”.

I can also see him packing lunch for you the night before. Idk tell me you can’t see him with a towel thrown over his shoulder, chopping up some vegetables for a salad. Cause I sure can. And the little sticky notes would probably make an appearance. A whole cheesy ass “Can I get a smile? Here we go, now that’s my pretty baby”. Would he ever admit to it? No. He’s not mushy and lovesick what do you mean? But his heart never fails to skip a beat when you end up sending him a pic of you holding the note and smiling at the camera.

Whatever he does, ii never expect praise or anything in return. It comes naturally. If he can make your life easier why wouldn’t he? But there are nights when you just end up staring at him. Thinking of all the ways he showed up for you throughout the day. “What is it?”, II would shift slightly taking his eyes off the screen. You just shake your head continuing to look at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”, wrapping his arm tighter around your shoulder he would let his gaze linger on you. “Just thinking of how much I love you”, you mutter, watching how the look in his eyes shifts even if his face stays the same. “Are you now?”, “Yeah, I wonder if you know just how much I love you”, you shrug, letting your fingers trail over his jaw. “I know that you love me, darling”, ii reassured you, letting his fingers tangle into your hair. “But do you know how much?”, he can’t help but let out a slight chuckle before muttering, “The question is if you know just how much I love you in return”.

#sleep token imagine #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token x you #sleep token x reader #sleep token ii imagine #sleep token ii fanfiction #sleep token ii x reader #sleep token ii x you

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utilitycaster · 1 day ago

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Thank you for writing up that post about the engagement of the alleged themes in campaign 3. I've seen the argument for them and honestly that plus some of the C3 stuff has almost made me feel weird playing a cleric in this setting. The implications just are so unfortunate if it really is the angle they're going for?

Hi anon,

So I have two thoughts on this. The first is that like...it's actually really difficult to make a story set in a fantasy world that deals with racism and colonialism because you have to develop fantasy racism and colonialism, which is a really fucking unpleasant headspace to exist in! And then, if you do, you have what I alluded to in tags on a different post today, where you will get people up in arms about how D&D or an actual play show or a fantasy work depicts orcs or goblins as racist or antisemitic stereotypes and then it's crickets when it comes to any real-world support of black or Jewish people. Chuck Klosterman said sci fi is philosophy for stupid people, and I disagree, but I do think speculative fiction is frequently sociology, anthropology, and geopolitics for stupid people, particularly if it's a setting with a lot of magic and fantasy races vs say, works like Butler's Patternist series, or a lot of Latin American magical realism, or (girl who just finished Disco Elysium voice) Disco Elysium, where there's a lot more grounding in our reality. I think this post covers the concept of real vs mythic, and I think the Critical Role stuff with the gods is in the realm of the mythic and people are trying to force it into a very human narrative. And yeah, the implications are really unfortunate if you do.

I think it's worth noting that a lot of high-profile (and beloved) TTRPG/AP projects from actual people from colonized cultures imagine a world in which they were never colonized (I am far from an expert but just off the top of my head: Coyote and Crow; Into the Motherlands; Desiquest; Islands of Sina Una) rather than make a story where a bunch of mostly white characters explain how they are the victims of colonization from two separate sources and only really focus on the one that's way less obvious and true but don't worry they're GONNA FIX IT, maybe, idk, should we open this door? I just don't know! golly gee this is tough!

The second related thought is just that D&D isn't a game that is well-suited to dismantling complex political structures either on a narrative or literal level and also it's pretend so you can do what you want forever. I mean don't call other people slurs while playing it but if we're talking in-world? I genuinely think that people who are unabashed murderhobos in D&D are often perfectly fine, generous, and lovely people in real life, and a lot of people who are like "I unionized the goblins! We're playing non-combat D&D! I de-escalate every situation" are often the sort of person to claim it's ableist to suggest that perhaps you should try to use reusable shopping bags. Like, are you living your values in your real life and capable of critical thought? then who cares if your D&D character is kind of a dick, or the show you are watching doesn't align perfectly with what you believe? And I find people who get overly hung up on how good and virtuous they are for their media consumption tend to be compensating for a lack, or at best a deep insecurity, about how they comport themselves in their real life.

so anyway yeah if the cast actually is like "yes i see this as a decolonialist work" I am going to have Thoughts and Pretty Harsh Critiques but to grant the CR cast the benefit of the doubt here, I think it's just...a mythic, epic scale story that draws from interesting sources (creation myths, the idea of a world created as an envious reflection by a sealed hunger) and didn't come together very well. I cannot extend that same benefit of the doubt to those fans who have argued otherwise, however.

#answered #anonymous

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hetakinkmeme · 2 days ago

Text

Welcome to the revived Hetalia Kink Meme! This will be hosted both on Tumblr and on Archiveofourown as a prompt meme challenge. I noticed that trying to host on Tumblr led to some issues, and a lot of people don't know how to use Dreamwidth nowadays so attempting to host it there doesn't work anymore either.

Now, the Hetalia fandom isn't as big as it once was, but I'm still hoping that we manage to get some participation going.

Collection link:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Hetalia_Kinkmeme

Please note that this is NOT affiliated with the original Hetalia Kink Meme on Dreamwidth or its corresponding collection on ao3. Their collection is named Hetalia Kink Meme(heta_kink). Ours is HetaliaKinkMeme(Hetalia_Kinkmeme).

Now, here's a quick FAQ and list of rules:

What's a prompt meme?

It's a place where you can suggest things you want to see written in your fandom, or write people's requests if you happen to see one that strikes your fancy! As a requester, click on "prompt form" and fill out the form. The fields with a * next to them are required fields, but you may choose whether to leave the other fields blank or fill them out.

Required fields: Characters(at least 1), Description(Describe what you want and don't want). That's it!

As a writer, you may click "claim" on somebody's prompt to announce your intention to write it.

But OP!! I thought prompts aren't allowed on ao3!!

You're correct. Usually. Many people don't know that there is actually a special collection challenge type on ao3 that is designed for hosting prompt memes just like this one! There is a separate section for prompts where you can upload prompts/requests. Here's a link to ao3's prompt meme FAQ:

How many prompts can we request?

I made the limit 15 per account. I think this is more than enough. Of course I can't stop you from requesting from multiple accounts but come on man... (If you want to add another prompt that badly you could also delete one of your old prompts.)

How long should our fills be?

I am unlikely to enforce any minimum, but I personally recommend at least 400 words.

Can I write a fic for a prompt that someone has already claimed?

Yes! Multiple fills per prompt are allowed. Two cakes and all that.

Are requests anonymous? What if I want to de-anon a request?

Requests are anonymous by default, but you may de-anon by unchecking the "semi-anonymous prompt" box at the end of your prompt form.

Are the collection works anonymous? What if I want to de-anon the fic I wrote?

COLLECTION WORKS ARE NOT ANONYMOUS BY DEFAULT. When uploading a fic to fulfill a prompt, you may add it to the "anonymous" collection on ao3 to keep yourself anonymous.

NOTE: You won't be able to click claim on a prompt without revealing your username. Unfortunately anonymous claims aren't possible without making the entire collection anonymous. A work around is to just upload your fic to the collection the old fashioned way and then state the prompt you're filling in your A/N.

I heavily debated whether to make the entire collection anonymous, but I ultimately wanted it to be up to the author as to whether to anon or de-anon without them having to leave the collection in order to de-anon.

Rules:

1. Your prompt/request must have at least a BIT of description as to what you want. Posting only something like "cat boy!Ivan x dog boy!Alfred" isn't going to do much to get anybody's imagination running. A prompt as short as the above will be considered spam and deleted. Aim to describe a bit of what you want(just a sentence or bullet points is fine, just at long as it's something) as well as what you DON'T want(any squicks etc.)

2. Requests must be for Hetalia. I'll allow crossovers if it seems like a popular enough property. (I.e. Hetalia x Harry Potter). Hetalia AUs such as cardverse are more than welcome!

3. Both requests and fills may be anonymous as stated in the FAQ. To make your request anonymous, click the "semi-anonymous prompt?" box at the bottom of the prompt form. It should be auto selected already. This will make sure your prompt is posted under "anonymous".

To make your prompt fill anonymous, upload your fic to the "anonymous" collection along with this one. Unfortunately clicking "claim" on a prompt will reveal your username and there's nothing I can do to change this. You can make note of which prompt you fulfilled in your A/N.

4. All characters & ships welcome. All kinks and types of prompts and works welcome.

5. Be nice to each other. Mean-spirited asks, prompts, or fills will be deleted.

Have any questions? Send in an ask!

Prompts and fills may be submitted onto this tumblr as well, but the same rules as above apply. You may submit the same prompt on both ao3 and Tumblr or on only one of them as you wish. Prompts that do not follow the rules will be deleted.

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celtigxr · 2 days ago

Text

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 32 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Brotherly bonding and late night visits. Word Count: 4456 CHAPTER WARNINGS: MDNI, 18+.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: 🙊 I only proof read this once, so there might be more typos/grammatical errors, awkward wording. I feel like it should be fine. But idk. I just wanted to get this published, lol.

Aegon returned to his chambers after he parted ways with Valeana before supper. After the petition that midday, he sought her out only to find that she was not present in her family’s wing. By the time he did find her, she was in the company of her little companions, all lying about in the grass of the gardens. She looked so lovely there, laying in the shadow, surrounded by green and pink, hair fanned out like a river of milk.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Aegon smiled, marching over the knolls to reach the three giggling ladies.

“Oh, my Prince,” Ellyn sat up first and then Wylla went to follow, both about to stand so they could give him a proper curtsy. However, Aegon lifted his hand to stop them, so they remained where they were.

Valeana did not bother to move, instead she peaked up at him through squinty eyes, “You interrupt our plotting.”

He raised an intrigued, amused eyebrow, “What sort of plotting?”

“We were conspiring on the ways for Lord Cregan to avert his attention off of Alysanne Blackwood and onto me,” she admitted, completely unashamed.

“She seeks to build a reverse harem,” Ellyn clarified with a laugh.

Aegon tilted his head at Valeana, his mouth opening in a wide grin, “Is that so? I am now to be competing against the Warden of the North?”

The silver-haired girl smirked up at him, “Not competing. Sharing.”

“Well, aren’t you a greedy little tart.”

“Mhm,” Wylla hums in agreement, “So far she has three Targaryen Princes, my brother, Prince Qyle Martell, Ser Arryk and Erryk Cargyll, Willehm Blackwood, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Ser Cedric Redwyne, and… Did we settle on Dalton Greyjoy?”

“Eh,” Valeana waved dismissively, “He can watch.”

“Three princes?” Aegon placed his hands at his hips in mock offense, “You include Daeron in this, after all I’ve told you.”

Valeana’s smirk broadened, “Who said it was Daeron?”

Aegon’s eyes widened challengingly, “I hope you are implying I have a twin brother I do not know about.”

Her grin grew mischievous before she giggled and sat up against her palms. With disheveled hair, she innocently asked why he was here, partially already knowing the answer.

“I was hoping to whisk you away for the remainder of the eve, now that father’s planned dinner party was canceled for the day,” he glanced over at Wylla and Ellyn. “Would you mind terribly if I stole her from you?”

The Stark girl smirked knowingly, “What do you plan on doing with her, my Prince? Kidnap her, take her to the Tower of Joy along the Prince’s Pass and deflower her there?”

“Hells, Wylla,” Valeana clasped a hand over her reddening face.

“As much as I enjoy the bizarrely specific scenario you’ve given me, alas, my intentions are innocent. I just wish to be in her company.”

The two girls all cooed in unison. Lady Ellyn huffs, almost defeatedly, “Why must you be sweet?”

Alas, propriety demanded that Valeana could not be alone with Aegon, particularly now that the stakes were so high. Though instead of Ser Steffon looming around them like a gargoyle, Lady Wylla and Lady Ellyn kept them within eyesight. They remained in the garden, walking away from their nest under the Cherry Blossom Tree, her arm looped in his as they shared idle conversations. They had to be careful of what they spoke of, as courtiers walked by and eyed them closely, critically. Though despite the lack of freedom to be vulgar and more physical, Aegon found that he didn’t quite mind.

A maidservant had come to summon Valeana for supper with her family, to which Aegon offered to escort her back for. Before they reached the door, he leaned into her ear and whispered about collecting her that night for another rendezvous on their secret platform.

“What’re you whispering about?” Wylla Stark shouted from behind them.

Aegon sent her a look, “The weather, Lady Wylla.”

Valeana threw her head back with a laugh, but before she could give him a proper reply to his offer, they were within eavesdropping distance of the two Claw Isle guards positioned at her apartment doors.

“Thank you for today,” Valeana said sincerely, turning to him with hands clasped in front of her. “I needed the distraction… Today has been strenuous, to say the least.”

Aegon hummed understandingly, “It’s not every day you see a man’s head being sliced in half. Though I wish I was the one to have shielded you from it.”

She looked down for a moment, and Aegon watched her face carefully, trying to search for her thoughts etched in the muscles of her face. Her mouth popped open, as if she was intending to say something, but the words escaped her.

“Valeana,” he said softly, his hand reaching up under her chin to lift her eyes back up to meet his. “I understand.”

The corners of her lips tightened in a sort of apologetic smile. She gave a small nod and then leaned up on her toes to plant a kiss upon his cheek, “Thank you, Aegon.”

His eyes fluttered close and he breathed in deeply, trying to commit the scent of her hair to memory. Aegon wanted nothing more than to grab her face and push her against the wall and shove his tongue down her throat, but between two unwed noble ladies, and the incredibly vigilant knights of Claw Isle, he was forced to reel in his carnal impulses like a stubborn sturgeon.

As he unbuckled his jerkin to lay it on the chair before his bed, Aegon contemplated skipping supper all together for that evening, so he may call for Hildy’s loyal services. The ghost of Valeana’s lips still lingered on his cheek, and now all he could think about was how they would feel kissing down his stomach and wrapping around his shaft. Alas, his plans were thwarted when the door to his quarters was swung open.

“I really need to add another fucking lock to that door,” he mutters, rebuckling his belt as Aemond strode into his bedchambers as if he owned it. “Did you inherit mother’s fear of knocking?”

“We need to talk,” Aemond has his hands resting on the pommel of his sword at his hip. “About Valeana.”

Aegon stared at him for a beat before sighing exhaustingly, “Fine.” He walked past Aemond into his solar, where he made a beeline towards the table that held the carafe of wine. Aemond trailed behind him, waiting patiently as Aegon poured himself a goblet, then a second for his brother.

The two settled into opposing armchairs, Aegon had already nursed his cup while Aemond merely cradled it in his fingers. For the longest while, they just stared at each other, wondering who was going to make the first move, not unlike a duel of swords.

“She tells me you begged her for her forgiveness,” Aegon made the first move.

“I have.”

“You do not deserve it.”

“That isn’t for you to decide,” Aemond tilted his head to the side, assessing his eldest brother carefully. “What are your intentions with her, Aegon? Because if it is simply to defile her skirts to provoke me, know that you will start a war that you will not win.”

Aegon rolled his eyes, “Not everything I do is to provoke you, brother. But,” he waved his cup-bearing hand concededly, “I’ll admit it began that way. I came up with the plot to pretend we were courting to get you all angry and frustrated.”

Aemond hummed, “I thought as much.”

Aegon pointed a finger at him, “It worked. You caved in like thin ice.”

“And yet you are still actively courting her. I saw you in the gardens today with her, arm and arm, laughing with her friends,” Aemond tilted his head back. “Acting like you have been chums your entire life… Like you have never been the bane of her existence for her most vulnerable years.”

“I apologized for my behaviour,” Aegon raised his eyebrows, “Had you done the same from the beginning, we wouldn’t be in this predicament, now would we?” Aemond looked away with a purse of his lips, which filled Aegon with immense satisfaction. “I’ll tell you what I told mother. My intentions are pure, Aemond. I have grown fond of Valeana Celtigar, and I wish for her hand.”

Slowly, Aemond’s head turned back to Aegon. Finally, he raised the goblet to his lips and took a sip, as if stalling or trying to read Aegon with that painfully observant one eye of his. In the end, Aemond concluded that he was being truthful, as much as he pained to admit it. His brother had never remained this interested in a woman so passionately long; he usually gave up, or got bored once he breached their boundaries far enough to get something from them.

“You do not deserve her hand.”

“That isn’t for you to decide,” Aegon threw his words back at him.

“It is for mother and father, who both wish for you to stay far away from her.”

Aegon scoffed at that, drinking his wine until there was a little left, “If I cared about what mother and father wanted, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.”

“And we all suffer for it.”

The corners of Aegon’s lips tug downwards in an ironic smirk, “Tell me, Aemond, how does it feel to have pushed the only woman you’ve ever loved into the arms of your devious, debaucherous and demoralizing older brother? I bet it keeps you up all night.”

Aemond tilted his head again, his eye widening at the challenge. He brought the goblet up to his lips again, taking a conservative sip. “You’ve succeeded in provoking me, Aegon, but in doing so you’ve woken up a sleeping dragon.”

“Well, good thing I’m a Targaryen, hm?”

Smirking ruefully, Aemond sat forward, balancing the neck of the goblet in his fingers between his legs, “Know this, brother. Even if you think you’ve won, you haven’t. You may exchange vows, and drape your cloak over her shoulders, but her heart will always be with me. And for as long as I live, I’ll spend every waking hour of it reminding you of that fact. For as long as I live, I will not give up on her… She’ll be mine in the end, whether you are dead or alive.”

Aegon’s jaw was tight, his vibrant violet eyes set aflame by the flicker of the wall sconces in the darkened room. His fingernail tapped on the glass of his goblet, now nearly empty of its contents, “I guess I’m just going to have to out live you, eh, brother?”

Aemond gave a little hum before placing his half full goblet on the table between them, “You can have the rest.”

Aegon watched as Aemond stood up and strode over to the exit. His leg was bouncing up and down vigorously, and his tongue moved around his mouth like angry tides of an unrested ocean. Just as he heard the hinges move, Aegon leaned back and turned his head just enough to give Aemond a side eye.

“I saw your bruises,” his words effectively made his brother halt in his tracks. “I added some of my own.”

Valeana was gently roused awake when she felt a breeze against her face. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly as she tried to peer through the blur of sleep. She quickly realized the balcony door was open, letting in a draught.

Did Shyla open it? She must have, because Val was sure it was closed when she pulled the drapes shut to block out the blazing sun of the morning to come. Grumbling, she twisted in her sheets as she peered over at Shyla’s bed, only to find it empty. She must’ve left due to Valeana’s snoring. A common occurrence, the poor thing has to suffer through it every night. Sometimes they find Shyla curled up on the settee in the family’s solar, sometimes she crawled into Floris’ bed, one time she had usurped Arthor’s bed while he sat and read in his balcony the entire night.

Valeana flipped back over, only to see a shadow looming on the right side of the bed. Her heart leapt in her throat, momentarily gagging her as she jumped and gaped, a scream nearly escaping her lungs. His hand flew to her mouth.

“Shh, shh,” Aemond crouched down next to her bed, his grip over her mouth softening when he saw her shoulders cave. “It’s only me.”

When he removed his hand from her mouth, she gave him a sharp whack on the shoulder, “Aemond, I swear to the old gods and the new, the next time you do that I’m going to throw you down a flight of stairs.”

“Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight,” Said another, causing Valeana to jostle a second time. She and Aemond whirled their heads towards the door with wide and alarmed eyes. And there in the dim light she could make out the short wavy silver hair of Aegon.

“Aegon,” Aemond stood up straight, his fingers curled into his fist. “How did you get in here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” The elder prince sauntered into the room, stopping across Aemond on the other side of the bed.

Valeana, gobsmacked and confused, stared at both of them from her place on the bed. “Would someone please tell me what in the Seven Hells is going on?”

With flared nostrils, Aemond turned his glower away from Aegon, before softening his features when he turned to her. His hand moved to gently move a strand of hair away from her face and over her ear.

“It seems that we both had the same idea tonight. To see you before the other… A race of sorts, to win your heart.”

Valeana felt her face heat up at that, her eyes flickering between Aemond’s adoring stare, to Aegon’s one of longing. The latter raised his leg so he was now kneeling partially on the mattress, his hand snaking up to take her idle left one. Aemond sat down at his side, taking her right hand in his and bringing it to his lips, where he kissed each knuckle.

“The waiting is torture,” Aegon says in a soft voice, watching his fingers dance inside her palm as he slowly crawled to her side. “I need to know… we need to know.”

Aemond moved forward as well, still seated as he instead laced her fingers in his, dipping his head to kiss her on the crown of hers, like he so often did. He breathed in deeply, then tilted his chin to the side so he could kiss her temple.

“Who won, Valeana?” Aemond asked next to her ear. “Who has won your heart?”

This was all too much to deal with in the middle of the night. Her breathing was laboured, her skin on fire in the places they touched. She was now quite literally caught between two princes and their feather light caresses, which did not help her decision making.

“I-I don’t know… Must I choose at this moment?”

Aegon hovered over her shoulder, his other hand moving to pull the neckline of her chemise over to expose more skin. His breath tickled her neck, making her shiver and give a small gasp. Then his lips pressed against the pale curve of her shoulder, and along the junction between her neck.

“We are impatient,” Aegon sighed into her skin.

Meanwhile Aemond had pulled her hand up to his chest, slightly exposed by loose strings of his tunic. Like the night before, he splayed her fingers over his pectoral, above his rapidly beating heart.

“Do you feel what you do to me? Valeana, if you make me wait any longer, my heart may very well explode out of my chest.”

Aegon took her unoccupied left hand, and placed it on the crotch of his breeches. He gave a groan at the contact, and her hand instinctively cupped the obvious hard muscle hidden beneath the fabric.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” He stared up at her, violet eyes disappeared in the void of his dilated pupils. “You make me so unbelievably hard, it’s the ultimate misery I cannot be inside you.”

Valeana’s limbs were jittery, her body tense with a growing heat pooling at her core. She felt hot all over, making the baby hairs along her hairline and back of her head damp and curl. Her legs started to twist around, her knees bumping into each other as her thighs desperately tried to conceal her shameful needs. Despite herself, she gave a soft little whine, “I don’t…I don’t know…”

Aegon lifted his gaze up to meet his brother’s, both dark and full of challenge. “Perhaps she needs more convincing.”

Aemond hummed in agreement, his hand moving from his chest to trail a finger along her jawline just to hook his finger under her chin and force her to look at him, “We’ll know tonight…Whomever’s name is screamed louder from these lips is the winner.”

Her eyes widened at that; fear, anxiety, lust and excitement all battling against each other in her belly. Valeana’s mouth opened in a gasp, but Aemond quickly swallowed it with his lips and a rumble of satisfaction. He moved so he was now hovering over her, devouring her through his kiss and caging her face in his hands.

Aegon made a sound of dissatisfaction next to her, his frustrations were taken out by his greedy hands roaming the expanse of her body through the thin muslin fabric. His explorative digits roamed over the hills of her soft thighs, her stomach and briefly ghosted over the knoll of her mound, which earned him a cute little mewl. A mewl that was swallowed by his greedy brother.

“Enough,” Aegon’s voice was gravely and low as he captured Valeana’s neck and jerked her away from Aemond’s mouth. She gave a soft whimper, and his brother glared at him through the curtain of his lashes. “You’ve had your fill… It’s my time.”

He tilted her head in his direction, bumping his nose against hers before claiming her mouth with a hungered groan. Where Aemond was soft and passionate, Aegon was all devouring, pouring his lust and wanting into the movement of his lips and tongue. His hand moved to hold the curve of her jawline, trapping her into his kiss, while the other one held himself up firmly.

Aemond did not sit idly by and watch his brother kiss his woman. Oh, no, he made himself known with his hands, roaming down her side, over her hip, until he found the hemline of her chemise and slid underneath. Valeana sighed at the contact of his heated palm on the sensitive flesh of her thigh, but her breath hitched when that same hand moved brazenly to cup the place where she has never been touched before.

Valeana gasped, involuntarily pulling away from Aegon’s kiss just to mutter the name of the gods. Vaguely she heard Aemond give a soft chuckle, but all she could pay attention to was his fingers rubbing against the slit of her moist sex, dampening the dark blonde curls there.

“Who is this for, Valeana?” Aemond asked, eye looking up to catch her desperate gaze, and then over to Aegon’s hunger-panged one. “Who has gotten you all wet and ready to be deflowered?”

Not one to be left without, Aegon yanked the chemise higher so he could see where his brother’s hand lay. Despite it being Aemond’s fingers coveting his greatest desire, the sight of it caused him to groan and salviate. His hips started to gently rut into her side.

“Allow me, brother,” with a surprising moment of compliance, Aemond adjusted his hand enough to let Aegon have a sample of her wet folds. Valeana could do nothing but squirm and whimper as the elder prince’s pads slipped up and down the crease before dipping into the hot shallow embrace of her entrance. It was at this precise moment that Aemond’s thumb also dipped in as well, easily finding the soft bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex.

Valeana gasped loudly, her hips bucking and her thighs shook. All she could do was stare at the ceiling in disbelief, with her fingers curling into the sides of her chemise, as if that would ground her somehow.

“She’s so tight, brother,” Aegon commented, eyes transfixed on her core that took his fingers so greedily. His tongue flicked out at the sight of her juices coating her intimate lips, beckoning him closer. “Who will stretch her out first, I wonder?”

“Both,” she found herself answering without force. Her entire body trembled, her mind a lust frenzied mess that cannot decipher who she needed more. “I want both of you.”

Their hands stopped, and they both looked up at her. Valeana’s body relaxed under their touches, but her brow twisted in annoyance at their sudden pause. She bit her lip, and tried to rock her hip back into their touch.

Aegon smirked widely, “She wants both of us, Aemond.”

“Our princess is greedy,” Aemond adjusted himself to face her, but his hand never left the warmth of her cunt. He tilted his head, “You always were one to keep your plate full, but could never finish it entirely.”

Aegon mimicked his brother’s position, his finger slowly moving around the entrance beneath her folds, itching that spot that ached but not quite plunging in. “Do you think you can handle that, Crab Cake? Both of us… You will be quite full.”

Valeana nodded eagerly, then whimpered when Aemond’s thumb made slow brush strokes around her warm pearl, “Please. Please… Over indulge me.”

Aegon chuckled, then removed his fingers, much to her chagrin. He brought them to his lips, sucking off her essence from them, and gave a low hum of approval. The sight of which made Valeana’s nethers tremble. Then Aegon brought his damp fingers to the collar of her chemise, where the lasses hung loosely, just barely exposing the valley between her breasts.

“First you must indulge us… Let us mark you so all will know who you belong to… Who conquered you,” his fingers curled around the fabric, tugging it in an attempt to expose her breasts. Aemond pulled his hand away from her heat momentarily to aid him, his fingers pulling the opposite direction until the chemise tore down the middle, enlisting a sharp gasp of surprise from her.

Her nipples were pebbled at the feeling of air against them. A field of gooseflesh also covered the expanse of her soft breasts, which gravity pulled slightly to each side, inviting each prince to their own. Aemond and Aegon wasted no time; they devoured a nipple each after they had their fill with their eyes. Valeana’s back arched into them, her hand instinctively reaching up to run her fingers through the hair at the base of their heads.

“Ooh, my Princes,” she crooned, her head falling back with her eyes tightly closed. She blindly felt their hands move back to her privy parts, unaware of whose fingers belonged to as they probed and caressed her folds and pearl, creating lewd squelching noises with her slickness.

When she opened her eyes, the three of them were completely nude. In her haze of wanton pleasure, she hadn’t realized or felt the movements that had brought her in their state of undress. But she was far too debauched to care… All that mattered was their body heat as they caged her between them.

Now on her side, Aegon was pressed against her back, and she could feel his cock against her rear, where his hand massaged. He parted her cheek an inch or two just so he could prod against her puckered hole teasingly. As much as he longed to take her there, it wasn’t his destination. Casting her braid over the pillow, Aegon peppered the back of her neck and length of her shoulder with open mouthed kisses, humming pleasantly in response to her gentle sighs.

Aemond was pressed in front of her, her breasts flushed against his chest, lips ghost over hers as they laid their head down on the pile of pillows. He blinked languidly at her, and Valeana could do nothing but stare back, feeling completely at peace in the reflection of his one eye. He had two fingers in her, slowly working through the folds, gently preparing her for them. It was bliss and torture at the same time, feeling the roughness of his callased digits rub against the walls of her unbreached womanhood.

“Do you think you’re ready, my love?” Aemond asks against her lips. “You can change your mind.” She felt herself involuntarily clench around his fingers, causing him to smirk, and give a soft chuckle. “The Pink Dread is hungry, brother.”

Aegon smiled against her spine, then moved closer against her, placing his chin over her shoulder, “Time to claim the dragon, then.”

Aemond pulled his hand away from her sex, to hook his hand under her left knee, spreading her wide for them. Valeana reached and grabbed onto her leg for him, bending it at the hip as the brothers reached down and grabbed onto their cocks and positioned it against her folds. Already, Valeana gave out a soft moan at the sensation; the two smooth heads probing the slick folds of her sex, brushing against her pearl and entrance, coating themselves in her lubricant.

The look the princes shared over her shoulder didn’t go amiss. Their cocks positioned themselves at her entrance by their own hand. They would have to do it slowly, painfully, just enough for her to break and stretch for them both.

Valeana wished she could see; she wanted to witness her virginity being lost by them both. But as she turned her head to look down at her body, all she could see was herself sandwiched between the two of them, and her arched left leg, perfect and whole.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and the world around her paused, then blurred.

It was a dream.

They weren’t there.

Valeana blinked and suddenly she was alone, floating on a mattress in the middle of the ocean, naked as the day she was born. All was quiet, all except for the gentle singing voice in the distance, one that sounded just like hers.

“From the ashes rose, scales of pink, A beast of terror, in a single blink.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE SNEAK PEAK:

“And we sit here today, as one house: The House of Valyria. Proud, ancient, and forged in fire and blood, in salt and sea,” Everyone raises their goblets in murmured agreement. “It truly gladdens me to be part of this historical moment. Our families will now no longer be divided, but blended. My grandsons, Jace and Luke are set to be married.” Aemond felt his blood drain from his body instantly. His brow furrowed, his heart ached in a pang of betrayal. His brother felt no different; they both turned to the woman seated between them. Valeana hadn’t seemed to notice this, she was looking at Jace with a slight smirk upon her lips, and that made it all the worse.

Notes: :D did you guys like your little treat-o? If you read my pinned post and my lil bio, you'll know how much I love to edge you guys 😈 heh heh heh. And honestly, who knows, maybe I'll fully write that scene in an AU smut-oneshot of it actually playing out. We'll see where my motivations lie.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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milessunflowers · 10 hours ago

Note

Franco Colapinto x Male Reader

The reader, who's nearsighted and always wears glasses, has lost them and is frantically searching everywhere

(It's the first order I've made, I hope I did it right 😅)

i love this omg! this is gonna be a good one bc im nearsighted and always lose my glasses when i set them down when i have a headache!

franco colapinto x male reader

synopsis: he can't even leave you alone for a second before you lose your glasses. now, the two of you are frantically searching everywhere for them.

author's note: thank you so much for the request! this one is going to be so fun to write since i seem to lose my glasses when they are on my face! it did get self indulgent just a bit but 😅. feel free to request more!

one minute. one stupid, short, devastating minute. that's how long he was gone to grab something from the room. franco looks at you, watching as you scramble across the floor, eyes squinted so much they almost looked closed. he sighs heavily, knowing exactly what happened just from the scene he walked back in to.

"mi amor, did you lose your glasses, again?" he asks you exasperatedly. he pinches the bridge of his nose and sets the blanket down on the couch. you squint in his general direction, trying to make out the colorful blob that seemed to be franco. you give him a sheepish smile.

"uh, no? i just, uh, really like the carpet. yep! the carpet is why i am on the floor!" you lie through your teeth, even though it was obvious you were desperately trying to find where you had dropped your glasses earlier.

you couldn't see the exact face your boyfriend was giving you but you could picture it. you give up and sit on your knees, looking and picking at the carpet. "okay, fine. i might have lost them again," you whisper, an embarrassed blush creeping up your neck, covering your cheeks, and painting the tips of your ears a bright red. to franco, the sight was adorable.

franco let's out a quiet, teasing laugh. "do you need help?" he asks, titling his head as he moves closer to you so you could see him clearer.

you nod and murmur a small, "yes, please." this wasn't the first time this has happened, nor would this be the last. you had a tendency to take your glasses off whenever it felt convenient, leaving them in places you never seem to remember. like one time, you were in the bedroom and remembered you needed your glasses. unfortunately, like always, you didn't remember where you put them so it ended up being an hour long search just for them to be in the bathroom.

franco was used to this. he knew you were forgetful, knew you often left things in places where they aren't needed. it doesn't take him as long as it used to as this happened almost daily. the two of you searched the living with little luck, thought you did find your pencil you lost when filling out some papers!

you moved on to the kitchen, squinting once more as you felt and looked around for a black blob that might have remotely resembled your glasses. franco followed quickly behind, opening the refrigerator and immediately finding your thick framed glasses.

he smiles softly and moves over to where you were searching through cabinets of plates and bowls, muttering about something. franco wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. "my wonderful, handsome, forgetful boyfriend," he begins, kissing your cheek softly. "i found them." he holds out the pair of glasses, you immediately grabbing them and putting them back on.

"thank you!" you exclaim, turning to hug him tightly, thanking him over and over again. "where were they?!"

"in the fruit drawer," franco responds neutrally, shrugging his shoulders and grinning. "you know, you should invest in contacts." you scowl at him.

"no way! i'd forget they were in, fall asleep with them in, and i really don't think that would end all too well," you remind him, watching as he holds in laughter. it was a conversation you both had before. "plus, i'm too lazy to take them in and out anyways," you add, though much quieter.

franco laughs and hugs you again, kissing the top of your head. "yeah, i know," he replies, his words muffled against your hair.

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

#franco colapinto x male reader #franco colapinto x reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula one x reader #f1 x male reader #f1 x reader

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selunesdreams · 1 day ago

Text

Chapter 18: Slow Like Honey

“Why are we going back to the house?” she demanded in front of the kitchen doors. ”Do you think I changed clothes just for fun?” Lucanis snaked a hand into his pocket to retrieve a key. “I assure you, you made your impression on that room. You don’t need to torment yourself in a crowd any longer.” “Do you know how long it took to get into this dress?” He considered her for a moment, eyes sweeping up and down her figure. In a slight stoop, his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “If you want help taking it off, you only have to ask.” A chill ran down her spine, and she found herself unable to come up with a disarming retort. She was usually the one unnerving him. “Fiammetta, would you…” He turned the key in the lock, holding the door open for her, “…like to join me in my room tonight?"

A/N: Well, AO3 is down for maintenence so Tumblr gets this chapter first! I'll edit this post with links later once AO3 is back up.

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: No one from House Dellamorte kneels...with exceptions.

Word count: 3.9k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! This chapter contains SMUT all CAPS. Warnings for: PiV, oral sex, fingering, inexperienced sex (if you squint because Lucanis can fake it until he makes it) Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Lucanis’ hands found her waist just as she stumbled on the final stair at the sound of his voice. Rook blinked in surprise, holding onto his shoulders for balance.

“It’s these marble floors you Dellamortes love so much.” She grumbled, adjusting her gown around her ankles.

“Wood creaks too much underfoot, not to mention the way it stains…” he trailed off and arched a brow as he studied her attire.

“You changed clothes.”

“You haven’t.” She said, observing the dried blood on his perfectly tailored cape. “Are you okay, Lucanis? It seems a little soon to be celebrating something that came at the heel of your cousin’s betrayal. I’m still surprised you spared him. Or that Spite let you.”

“That wasn’t mercy. Illario will never live this down. There’s nowhere he could go to outrun being the traitor Crow, brought down in front of everyone.” He shook his head. “I am fine. I will deal with my cousin later.”

As he spoke, Rook caught sight of several lingering glares from around the room. It was common to be leered at by fellow Crows, but she’d become accustomed to a very particular stare for most of her life. Whether they loathed her or envied her, the faces were all the same: narrowed eyes, hardened scowls, folded arms.

“Are we Crows or Vultures?” She muttered, “If looks could kill, I’d be dead a hundred times over.”

“Don’t worry about the stares.” Lucanis nodded at a few unfamiliar faces in the crowd. “Nobody would dare make a move after you brought Illario to his knees like that.”

“Some whispers can be as deadly as a thousand cuts.” Rook said, moving to the edge of the room where she wouldn’t have to watch her back. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Lucanis followed, frowning. “Have I offended you?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I shouldn’t take this out on you. It just…gets to me sometimes. You’re a Dellamorte. You get jealous looks, but they come with respect. If another man cut you down, he’d say you were an honorable opponent.”

“The De Riva house is just as honorable-”

“Do you know how it was, for Viago and I? The things people said about our mothers? Two women from poor households chasing notable De Riva men around, trapping them with babies? At least my father married my mother. Viago’s mother did not have it so well. The comments made about him in passing alone…to him…”

“I remember some things..as a child.”

“I have always had a tainted reputation. When I was young, when my parents had repaired their social standing, people were good. But then my mother died, and my father left the Crows…by the time I returned to the public eye, I was under Viago’s wing. He demanded respect, and I had it by proxy. But when I blew that operation, and then abandoned Treviso, I looked like a deserter. Just like my father.”

“You took a contract. You are no deserter.”

“I moved against a member of house Dellamorte in his own home tonight.”

“On my behalf-”

“Yes. And I have the ear of the new First Talon I helped rise to power. ” Rook said, angling her head towards a group of sneering young women on their left. “To them, I’m an opportunist.”

“I think the gossip may be about me.” Lucanis grinned and leaned in close. “See the one in the middle? I declined an invitation to her bed just before you came down that staircase.

Rook admonished herself for the prick of jealousy stinging her skin. Lucanis Dellamorte did not belong to her. And as First Talon, it was unsurprising that every eligible Crow in the room would want to be on his arm.

“Do you get those kinds of invitations often?” She asked, attempting to sound impassive.

“Only when I bother to show my face in public. I’ve never been interested.” He replied casually, “You can’t tell me it’s not the same for you?”

“I think Viago’s scowling keeps most potential suitors away…”

“Perhaps it’s a good thing your cousin is so busy keeping my cousin in line, then?”

Lucanis nodded toward the doors, smiling.

“Shall we make a discreet exit?”

“This will surely fix my reputation problem.” Rook muttered. “Are you sure you should leave? They’re celebrating you.”

“I have other plans for celebrating this evening.” He said as he escorted her to the gardens. “Come. Escape prying eyes and get some air with me.”

While he held open an ornate side door for her to step through, he made certain they weren’t being followed before ducking out after her.

“So. First Talon. Does that mean you’ll be leaving us?” Rook asked, wandering towards an easement overlooking the water.

“No. We have a contract.” Lucanis joined her, bracing his palms on the railing. “Besides. She may have stepped down, but there’s no stopping Caterina from giving all the orders.”

“Right.” she pursed her lips and lowered her gaze. “I could be crossing a line here, but…you never wanted to be First Talon, did you? Why don’t you tell Caterina no?”

“You are crossing a line, but I’d never consider you a trespasser. My secrets are your secrets.”

“Are you going to answer my question, then?”

He glanced at the opera house out of the corner of his eye.

“Later. This is a dangerous conversation to be had in Caterina’s garden.”

Rook nodded, watching the gondolas in the distance rock atop the current underneath. Lucanis eased himself onto his elbows, stretching his legs long behind him as the wind tousled his hair.

“So, what were you and my grandmother discussing?” He asked, staring at his hands.

“We just sat in silence and watched you brood from the window.”

“Mierda. Must I suffer both of you?”

“Why suffer me at all? You’ve just been promoted far over my head.”

Lucanis scoffed. “I think you forget I’m the one in your service.”

“Right. Until your contract is over.” Rook huffed, her breath rising in the cold.

“You’ll have me for as long as I can put off the Crows.” Lucanis pushed himself up straight, removing his cloak and draping it over her shoulders. “Perhaps I could convince you to return here with me when I can’t put them off any longer.”

Rook drew the cloak tighter around herself, suppressing a shiver.

“I’m not sure…I left with Varric to hunt the Dread Wolf. When it’s all over, I’m not sure what-”

Lucanis reached for her chin, delicately tilting it towards him.

“You don��t have to explain yourself. Regardless of your answer, I don’t need it today.”

He released her and stepped back with a wink.

“Just think about it, mm?”

Rook forced a smile as he offered his hand, allowing him to lead her toward the main villa. She dropped her cheek to his shoulder as they moved through the gardens, the grass swiping at the hem of her dress.

“Why are we going back to the house?” she demanded in front of the kitchen doors. ”Do you think I changed clothes just for fun?”

Lucanis snaked a hand into his pocket to retrieve a key.

“I assure you, you made your impression on that room. You don’t need to torment yourself in a crowd any longer.”

“Do you know how long it took to get into this dress?”

He considered her for a moment, eyes sweeping up and down her figure. In a slight stoop, his lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

“If you want help taking it off, you only have to ask.”

A chill ran down her spine, and she found herself unable to come up with a disarming retort. She was usually the one unnerving him.

“Fiammetta, would you…”

He turned the key in the lock, holding the door open for her,

“…like to join me in my room?”

Lucanis’ apprehension was palpable, but he pulled enough confidence from within himself to charm her with the flirtatious mask he’d been trying on. It could have been the rapport growing between them, or shared trauma, or Illario becoming a thorn in both their sides, or even leftover adrenaline from earlier in the evening…whatever lingered between them, she was tired of wondering how far it could go. Tonight, she fully intended to find out.

“Yes.”

She stepped through the threshold into the villa. The moment she was inside, his hand settled on the small of her back, touch firm even through the thick fabric of his cloak. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her as he guided her through the foyer and up the stairs. Rook must have walked this path a thousand times, but now, everything appeared new, hazy. Like she was seeing things for the first time, through fresh eyes.

A few of the household staff were scrubbing the floors where they’d disposed of the Venatori earlier. And she averted her gaze, flustered, Lucanis quickly pulled her down a secluded hallway to his chambers, shutting and locking the door behind them.

Not one for flair, Lucanis’ room was plain, unlike Caterina’s. It mirrored his grandmother’s only in layout: a fireplace on the far wall next to the door leading to a private bath, a desk beneath one window, and a wardrobe stationed across from it. A king sized bed with a large canopy occupied the east wall, the sheen of the dark sheets catching in the moonlight that filtered in through the curtains.

“Just as I left it.” He said, leaving her in the doorway and crouching before the fireplace, arranging wood in the hearth.

Rook explored the perimeter as he retrieved something from his pocket to use as kindling. His desk was neatly arranged, stacked correspondence well over a year old on one side, while blank pages and ink sat at the ready on the other. Lucanis hadn’t returned to this place since before the Venatori had taken him, yet he acted as if he’d never been away.

“Is it strange, being back here?”

He huffed bitterly, striking a match on the mantle and bringing it to an edge of a piece of parchment. “The Ossuary was stranger.”

“This might be the only room in this house I’ve never visited.” Rook mused, running a hand over the duvet. Orlesian silk. Of course. Nicer than the guest suite.

Lucanis waited for the flaming paper to catch the oak logs before rising from his crouch and crossing the room.

“You’re always welcome here.” He said in a voice that carried the heaviness of longing and a faint tremor of nervousness. His hands glided along the cape he’d lent her, silently asking permission to remove it. Rook dipped her chin, and he took it off and hung it up in the wardrobe. He lingered there, staring at the ground as he unbuttoned his vest.

“I’d enjoy your company this evening. In whatever capacity you’d find most appealing.” He said, slowly loosening his cravat. “But if this is too much for you, I will happily escort you to the guest room…”

He undressed down to his trousers and undershirt, unlacing his boots and setting them beside the wardrobe. Eyes locked on him as he turned towards her, Rook removed her heels, tossing them aside. They clattered against the hardwood floor, the only sound other than the crackle of the fire.

From his breast pocket, Lucanis retrieved a small butterfly knife and, with a swift flick of his wrist, freed the blade.

“Would you like some help with that dress?”

”No cutting!” She threw out a hand in protest. “This is on loan.”

His nose twitched with amusement, soft adoration gleaming in his eyes.

“No cutting.” He echoed, setting the knife on the windowsill and stepping behind her. His fingers brushed hers, shooing them away as he untied the gown’s back. Rook stood, unmoving, as he worked.

“It’s been a long time for me, Lucanis. Since I-“

“I’m not worried about that.” He tugged the corset’s final ribbon loose. “Would you like a change of clothes? I can try to find you something more comfortable.”

The dress relaxed around Rook’s waist, and she spared a look over her shoulder, meeting Lucanis’ eyes as she let the gown pool at her feet. She’d chosen to forgo a bustier underneath, and stood before him only in her underwear, leaving little to the imagination.

It seemed to work in her favor.

“This is fine.” She said, stepping forward to loosen the top button of his shirt.

Lucanis’ cheeks bore a slight hint of red as he averted his gaze.

“I don’t do this, Rook.” He said hoarsely.

Her fingers paused on the second clasp. “Do what?”

“I don’t get close. I don’t allow myself to feel…”

She rocked forward on her toes, tugging him down by his collar and kissing him chastly. The tension in Lucanis’ shoulders disappeared, and he reached to cup her cheek in his palm as he pulled away. His head tilted to the side as he stared at her, looking like a man in complete agony.

He looked like a man in love.

“You are so beautiful.” His thumb traced the structure of her face with wonder. “People stare too often and do not speak it enough.”

Crooking his index finger under her chin, he brought her lips to ghost against his.

“I think about you all the time, Fiammetta. To be with you in this way…it is a privilege.”

He kissed her ardently, letting his hand slide to her jaw, thumb caressing her cheek. She gave in, hands roaming the back of his shirt, clutching in the fabric there as he held her by her elbows, guiding her gently backwards. The bed creaked beneath their shared weight as he climbed on top of her, and Rook blindly fumbled with the buttons of his shirt again. Lucanis’ fingers met hers to assist, deftly pulling apart each clasp and sliding it off behind him. Without breaking the kiss, he crawled forward, pressing her deeper into the mattress.

“If this is moving too fast-”

She shook her head, hair splayed around her on the sheets. “Maker, no, no. I just-”

“Perhaps I don’t have the resume of your previous lovers, but I promise-”

Rook touched a finger to his lips, cutting him off.

“I’m not worried about that.” She said, echoing his words from earlier.

He claimed her mouth with his own in a kiss messier, hungrier than the last. No longer filled with doubt or hesitation, he was exploring freely. Starved to touch her, and to be touched in return.

Rook’s hands moved lower, palming at the seam where his arousal throbbed against his trousers, and Lucanis groaned.

“Slow down, Rook.” He chuckled, sliding to the floor and staring up at her reverently.

“I want to take my time with you.”

This was the second occasion she’d brought a Dellamorte to their knees tonight.

Slowly, he reached up the length of her legs before grasping her thighs, spreading them apart and tugging her closer, pressing a soft kiss over the front of her panties. One finger hooked under the hem, and he pulled them aside, running his thumb down her center. He hummed pleasantly at the slickness he found there.

“May I?” He asked under lowered eyelids. Speechless, she could only nod eagerly.

With a smirk, he tugged her underwear down and abandoned them on the floor behind him. With a ragged breath, he dove between her thighs, dragging his tongue flat against her and drawing an exploratory, teasing line upward in one deliberate sweep.

Rook bucked her hips, whining desperately for contact, and he shifted his weight back with a wicked grin.

“Fiammetta…patience…” he grasped her roughly under the ribcage and pushed her against the pillows as he joined her on the bed. “I want this to be good for you.”

Settled on his stomach, he spread her before him once again, hands sliding down to secure her in place. His tongue briefly dipped inside of her, drawing up towards her clit and working it expertly in circles with his tongue. Soft grunts and moans from Lucanis reverberated through her as his fingers dug into her thighs. Rook held her breath, hands searching to weave through his long, dark locks as she squeezed her eyes shut. He groaned with approval as she tugged his hair at the roots, and she glanced down to find his gaze fixed on her face as his mouth worked against her, assessing her pleasure. Worshipping her. Something about the sight made her even more frantic to touch him, to be touched by him.

He withdrew, staring at her naked form appreciatively before planting a kiss on each inner thigh. Curiosity, he inserted his middle finger inside of her, mouth slightly parted in a taunting half smirk as she writhed in response, spewing nonsense phrases between moans, begging for him to use his mouth on her again.

“That’s it…” he murmured, inserting a second finger, obliging the demand of her hips and drawing his tongue to the most sensitive part of her clit, lingering there until he provoked a telltale whimper that encouraged him to keep his focus upon that particular spot.

Rook yanked a pillow from beside her, biting into the silk to muffle her urge to scream his name. The staff in the hall would already be spreading rumors by morning. She wasn’t adding fuel to the fire. If Viago caught wind that they’d snuck off together, he’d kill them both. Maybe even personally.

Lucanis tracked her every movement from below, his free hand abandoning her thigh to squeeze the curve of her waist, dragging down over her stomach, fingers digging into the soft flesh there as Rook’s belly coiled tightly with a telltale burn.

She sank into the sensation, chasing her orgasm over the edge until a cry caught in her throat, reduced to a muffled squeak of pleasure as she turned her head, burying her face in the pillow again. Lucanis remained between her legs, continuing at his set pace until her sex spasmed and pulsated with overstimulation.

He swept his thumb across his lips, sitting on his heels.

“Do you always have such trouble keeping still, or am I special?”

Rook pulled a pillow from behind her and threw it at his face. Lucanis deflected it and crawled over her, kissing her softly. She could taste herself on his tongue as the outline in his trousers throbbed against her thigh.

“You’re very good at that.” She panted.

“I’ve found in my line of work that enthusiasm is key to doing anything well.” He said smugly, “plus, Bellara has been loaning me some very intriguing novellas.”

“Oh? Have you been studying them?”

“I know I said you were welcome to my secrets, but allow me to keep just a few, mm?”

He glanced across the room and rolled off the bed, unbuttoning his trousers hesitantly. Concerned by his distant stare, Rook took a pillow and hugged it to her chest, suddenly feeling overexposed.

“Is something the matter?”

Lucanis swallowed, avoiding her gaze.

“So much of my life has been work, killing…I have not had time for entanglements or intimacy. Now that I’ve found it with you, I…”

He drug a hand down his face, keeping a palm over his mouth as he let out an exasperated stream of air through his nose.

“Mierda, look at you!” He tore his hand away, gesturing at her naked form. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“What you just did was a pretty good start.”

Lucanis held her gaze for several beats of silence, unphased by her words, before releasing his hold on the waistband of his trousers, letting them fall to his thighs, all his intent there for her to see, hard and wanting. With a hungry kiss, she felt him brush against her thigh as he crawled over her. He reached down, pumping himself, the slickness gathered between her legs seeping onto his fingers.

“Rook...” He let his head drop back as he entered her slowly.

Her breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulder blades as she adjusted to the size of him. She arched her back and rolled her hips against his, and Lucanis sucked in a sharp inhale through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Maker, Fiammetta! If you do that, I don’t know how long I can-”

The Demon of Vyrantium was begging. Whining her name. This might prove to be her most successful night as a Crow, yet.

A strangled noise of pleasure escaped him as she kissed down the length of his clavicle. He thrust at a slow, controlled pace, arms trembling next to her. One hand sliding between their bodies, Rook drug her fingertips across his stomach, smirking as his abdomen twitched in response.

Lucanis gasped, pressing his forehead to her shoulder and choking out a litany of Antivan curses as he watched himself move against her. His thrusts became more disjointed, and how he maintained such an adoring demeanor while fucking her like this was a mystery.

Rook moaned as he drove himself into her with more force. She leaned forward and nipped at his collarbone, keeping her mouth there and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise to admire the following morning. Lucanis’ knuckles turned white as his hands fisted in the sheets on either side of her.

With a desperate groan, he spilled himself inside of her, collapsing onto his elbows and weaving his fingers through her hair. He kept his lips pressed to hers through his orgasm, until he stilled, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he caught his breath.

“Mierda.” He panted, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and shuddering with a low, contented chuckle. “You truly will be the death of me.”

“You think Spite could give you a good night’s sleep after that?”

“He seems amenable to the idea,” He purred in her ear, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps where they brushed her skin. “if you’re staying.”

He carefully pulled out and collapsed at her side, their bodies sweaty and spent. Tracing his fingertips over the curve of her hip, his eyes seemed to quiver as he searched her face.

“I believe I might fear this night slipping through my grasp more than a knife to the back.”

The brown of his irises warmed in the firelight, a comfort she longed to get lost in. Something gnawed at the base of her throat, leaving her insides hollow, and she shuddered.

“I’m scared.” she rasped suddenly.

Lucanis’ hold on her loosened. “Of me?”

“Of everything.” She whispered, “But…not you. Not like you think.”

The mattress dipped under his weight as he moved closer, snaking one arm under her waist and the other over her middle. He pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her neck.

“Burn my contract. I’ll kill anyone you ask me to - god or man - if it keeps you safe.”

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