#and a bit about death and grief and loss

[we-want-a-shrubbery]

Heroes for Hire/Powerfist fic

(little self promo for my fic if anyone on here is interested!)

Title: Guardian

Characters: Luke Cage, Danny Rand

Wordcount: 4397

Rating: T

Warnings: major character death

Summary:

Danny Rand is, objectively, a very weird person.

But that is just a very neutral, obvious fact and not reproachful at all. Luke at least finds himself drawn to his new business partner's weirdness astoundingly fast. And as Luke, who has never felt the need for a best friend ever before, grows comfortable with exactly that, he is reminded, how quick such things can suddenly end again.

[possiblyawesometmblr]

there's one concept that i think about all the time that we briefly talked about but never did because it never made sense for fable to just up and say it: the concept that fable fucking hates ari.

and not because of who she is as a person or anything (but granted i think it's pretty clear he's not a fan of her in general) but rather that he hates what her existence means.

cause think about it. you're a major god who spent ages creating and building up mortals to be who they are now, and you want to keep them forever because you worked so hard on them, but you're not allowed. your brother takes them. and you're told that's just the way it is. tough shit.

but then. some minor god makes a baby? completely on accident??but oh, yeah, SHE gets to keep it forever. that's a given. your brother is totally cool with this.

let's be real: that'd probably make your blood boil a little bit

[thehappiestgolucky]

remembered the only dragon quest game i played that also just happens to have so. so much death

[quietwingsinthesky]

im thinking about clara’s ending, though. like, on a very self-indulgent level, i do enjoy that she gets to live (kind of) and time travel and get an immortal girlfriend to do it with. but on another level, i’m kind of curious… why? given how much emphasis this episode and the last put on how clara herself made her choice and didn’t want the doctor to go through all of this to bring her back, i mean she’s horrified by it, both for his sake but also for the sake of her own memory that was used to bring him to this point. and then, of course, the exchange at the end with Me and the Doctor, “summer can’t last forever” “it can if you have a time machine”, that is so obviously meant to be this desperate, denying plea from the doctor to a universe that can’t care about the time he wants because it doesn’t even have enough for itself to keep living, and an immortal who has all the time in the world and can’t even remember all of it, even remember herself most of the time.

which. it’s just odd, then. that the episode ends with clara getting to have that forever summer. you’d think it goes both ways, not just that the doctor can’t run forever but neither can clara. she says they’ll be going back to gallifrey eventually, but words are a bit cheap against her literally running away with the last second of her life in a time machine. (and uh. given what eventually happens to gallifrey. lol. lmao. girl no one is putting u back there ever.)

i don’t think i’d call this a criticism exactly. just a strange choice to make, that the ending there seems completely at odds with everything else Heaven Sent/Hell Bent have been about. that this grief and denial are so destructive, and to no one more than themselves. but then clara escapes through a loophole anyway.

[orcelito]

I'm tired of dreaming about my dad. I know it's part of processing, but I am just so tired.

[llycaons]

anyway my other comment with the postcanon wx in the novel is how small-scale it is; for the most part it's very domestic and low-key and homey. which is lovely, and I think it suits the novel well, but for the cql setting postcanon I think they should also have this highly romantic married life worthy of a love story for the ages. because when have they ever been chill? pepper in some moments of melodrama. craft some grand romantic gestures. get extravagant with it. they're insane! I want to see that come out in how they actually act when they're married!!

[genderfeel]

pov just finished majora’s mask for the first time

[deoidesign]

the ask from tellih had me thinking... what are your thoughts on a kid au? i bet steve and adam were really cute as kids and i wonder just how different they were then compared to now

I think that's the kind of thing I'd like other people to think about rather than put my own thoughts on the table ^^

There's a million different ways they could have been as kids, and a million different ways they could have grown to be who they are now. So I don't want to put anything into too heavy a canon :)

I also haven't really thought about it too much! since it's not really relevant to the story I'm trying to tell, I'd think about it if it came up but otherwise I like to prioritize the things I think are important to building my story.

[bejeweledmp3]

.

[attenaeus]

hi

i haven't been on here in a bit.

grief is an interesting experience, and not one i expected to have to go through recently. i guess that's pretty typical of grief, it often comes when you least expect it - but i can't help but feel jealous of people who could prepare to grieve. people who had the process of understanding they were going to go.

my childhood cat passed away nearly two months ago now. it was incredibly unexpected, and incredibly traumatic. i haven't been able to drive a car since it happened. this has been my first full month without my rock, without my best friend, without the one constant in my life that always left me feeling better.

in those first days, the world was moving so fast and mine had stopped. everything was spinning and i was dizzy, waiting to catch up to the movement but it kept getting faster and faster and faster as the grief hit. it came in waves, but the waves weren't as far apart as i maybe expected. they were lots of little waves, never really properly receding. leaving a mark where they were, new ones coming to move the mark further up the shore within hours; sometimes minutes.

the first week was hard. the second week somehow hit the hardest. i was still busy. i had university, i had rehearsals for plays, i had assignments and things to do. but i didn't have him to do it with. i didn't have him to come home to. and it felt like i was betraying him to come home feeling okay, to spend my days without noticing the gaping hole in my chest. like i was leaving him behind, when all i wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and protect him from any harm. to carry him with me like a little security blanket made of yowls and pissed off glares. my little angry man, with me forever.

but he was gone. and i was still here. and it felt wrong.

my brain had turned to a fuzzy cloud of yarn and pain and tears, and of a hard center that i couldn't access no matter how much i tried. i couldn't remember things i normally would be able to. learning lines from my plays felt like an insurmountable feat, one that would normally come to me with relative ease. everything would hit the fuzz and slide off of it, leaving a small remnant but mostly just disturbing the blur.

i woke up this morning convinced that i hadn't handed in an assignment due a month ago. it was coming up to the one month anniversary when it was due, and i barely remember any of that week. i can't remember actually submitting the assignment, i just know i did.

it's been nearly two months now. i still can't believe it's been that long.

somehow, life feels worth living again.

it doesn't feel easy. it doesn't feel any less lonely without him. but it doesn't feel hopeless.

one of my plays came together incredibly well. last week my life became that show, and the people involved. my life became showing up to the theatre, having my dinner and complaining about how tired i was, doing my makeup and dancing to whatever song we chose for warm up that day, and then going on stage and watching a friend make out with a skeleton on stage.

then we'd go to maccas until midnight, and i'd get a lift home with a different friend and we'd make each other laugh until we cried over a playlist of shitty songs to have sex to, and suddenly life felt worth living again. i found myself wanting to show up to the play instead of dreading interacting with people because life was so much, i found myself volunteering to get involved in more and more. now i'm working front of house for a different show at a different company, i'm preparing to put on a play night, and i'm not thinking about how much i wish he was here to do it with me.

i still do, of course. i watched good omens recently (i am suitably Not Ok over it), and every single time something happened i would turn to find him, and be hit with the loss. i'd just recently gotten into the habit of talking at him like he understood me when i just needed to lose my mind over something. it felt like that had been ripped from me right as i got used to it. that and doctor who are the first shows i've watched and gotten invested in without him by my side, and somehow that feels lonely.

it helps that i have friends who are invested. friends that i can talk to about things. but that's where the hole feels the biggest right now. that, and when i'm having a mental health episode and he's not there to ground me. two instances, both wildly different but both feeling so important to me.

i may have figured out that the meaning of life is to do stupid shit with your friends at midnight, and to lose all sense of shame when you strip backstage because you've got to go on for the next scene and fuck it i gotta get this costume on, and to spam people with keyboard smashes when you're watching two lovesick idiots fuck everything up on tv, but for the longest time my meaning of life was him.

learning to live without him didn't feel like something i could do. and i'm almost grieving that i've been able to do it.

[delulujuls]

healing sessions | aegon II targaryen

hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.

this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)

and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs

pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen

The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.

Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.

Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.

To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.

Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.

After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.

"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."

"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.

Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.

Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.

Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.

The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.

Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.

After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.

"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."

He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."

"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.

Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.

"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."

Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.

"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.

"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."

"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."

"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.

"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.

"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.

Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.

For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.

"Did you bring strawberries?"

She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.

"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.

"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.

Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.

"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.

"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.

Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.

"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

He also shrugged.

"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."

Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.

He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.

"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."

Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.

"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.

"I miss you, you know?"

"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.

"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.

Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.

Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.

"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.

"Not quite yet," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.

When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.

"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.

She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."

Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.

"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."

The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.

She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.

When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.

"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.

Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.

"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."

It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.

She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.

"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."

She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.

Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.

The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.

Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.

"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.

Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.

At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.

Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.

"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.

[feyascorner]

Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.

Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.

Tav needs a hug :,)

a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.

You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.

But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.

It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.

You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.

Gods.

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.

It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”

He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”

You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.

But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.

“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”

You finally look at him.

“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”

Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.

“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”

Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.

“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.

“…not now.”

“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”

You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”

“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where soap is medically discharged and doesn’t really have a “purpose” anymore. He enlisted so young, and had been in the military for so long that he’s got no fucking idea what to do next. In the end, he moves in with his oldest sister and her kids after his brother-in-law passes away suddenly.

While getting his feet back under him, he takes up drawing again. More seriously this time than just doodles on paperwork and scribbles on briefing notes. But real illustrations. It starts as a way to keep his hands occupied while idle at home, but then it becomes an actual hobby of his. He gets better and better, watching YouTube tutorials to learn things he wouldn’t have picked up otherwise.

It’s his 15 year old niece that gets everything rolling. She (without his knowledge) sets up a social media account to share his art. But a very specific series of art. See, he started illustrating the stories his 5 year old nephew told him. And the art, just like the stories, are mindblowing. Soap didn’t do it for recognition, but his niece insisted on sharing his work with the world.

The account starts to get a following, and when his niece shows it to him he nearly has a breakdown. But then he sees the comments. Parents of kids who feel seen in his art. Young self taught artists feeling seen through him. A whole community of people who connected with his work on such a deeper level than anything he’d expected. So, begrudgingly, he lets her continue to post.

Then comes the storefront. With prints and merch and all sorts of wild ass things he’d never dreamed of. And while the income is modest, it still an income. For a while, a part of him had felt guilty for “mooching” off his sister (despite her protests to the contrary) and now he can really start contributing to the household. Plus, a little bit of each sale gets squirreled away for his niece and nephew. Since without them, this whole thing wouldn’t be happening.

And then the email comes. It’s innocuous at first, something he’s gotten a number of times. The sender asks him if he’s willing to illustrate for an upcoming project with a children’s book author. They’d seen his work online and thought his style would match perfectly with the book. Initially, soap was going to politely decline the offer. As much as he’d come to accept the minor fame he’d gotten online, he didn’t think he was good enough to actually illustrate something for a traditional publication. But then he sees the sender’s signature.

S. Riley.

Not much was known about Riley as a person. Their personal life, much like their first name, was kept down tight under lock and key. But their books were beloved by so many, including Soap and his family. Riley wrote on topics that not a lot of other children’s book authors dared to touch, and not with the deft and delicate hand necessary to properly tackle them. Things like parental abuse, neglect, trauma, death; there wasn’t a subject Riley was scared of, and there wasn’t a subject that they handled with anything less than the utmost grace. Their book on dealing with grief and loss had gotten Soap’s niblings (and his sister, to be perfectly honest) through those first few months after their father’s death.

So, despite his misgivings and anxieties, soap accepts.

(Across the country, one Simon Riley waits with bated breath to see if his nephew Joseph’s (and his) mysterious favorite artist will say yes. For no other reason than professional curiosity. It definitely has nothing to do with the briefest glimmer of a bright blue eye caught in the corner of a recent post.)

[novaursa]

A little bit of angst here, could I get one with cregan and rhaenyras daughter where, after their first child, reader and cregan are having difficulty making a second child. Eventually reader gets pregnant a joyous day for winterfell. As the weeks pass, cregan and reader are frequently spotted by the folk of winterfell sharing tender moments between one another, maybe a kiss to readers belly, maybe cregan almost always has a hand to her stomach etc. one day (maybe cregan is at the wall or on a hunt) reader receives a raven from dragonstone saying Jacaerys is dead. Readers grief overcomes her and she loses the baby. After news reaches cregan about Jace, he rushes home to comfort his wife, knowing she’d be overcome with grief, and he is met with the aftermath. Cregan is filled with grief and anger and a lust for revenge for the person at the hands of the death of his friend, the grief of his wife and the loss of his child.

The Gullet's Price

Requests are closed!

- Summary: The day you received the news about the death of your brother, another life was lost.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The snow fell gently outside the thick stone walls of Winterfell, casting a blanket of white over the sprawling castle. Inside, however, warmth radiated from every hearth. You sat by the window, watching the snowflakes drift lazily in the twilight, your hand absentmindedly resting on your belly. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the distant sound of footsteps from the courtyard below.

It had been months—many long, aching months—since you and Cregan had first tried for a second child. After the birth of your son, the heir to Winterfell, you had both longed for another, but it seemed the gods had been slow to answer your prayers. There had been whispers among the maesters, suggestions of herbs and tonics, but nothing had come of it. Each passing moon only deepened the ache in your heart, and though Cregan never showed it, you could see the worry in his eyes, the way his hand lingered on your shoulder a moment too long, the way he would pull you into his arms as if holding you close could somehow solve what was out of your control.

The door creaked open, and there he stood—Cregan, your husband, lord of Winterfell, with his ever-brooding presence softened by the sight of you. His dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, and his grey eyes—so often stern in the face of duty—softened as they found yours. Without a word, he crossed the room, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor, and knelt beside you, placing a warm hand on top of yours.

"Still watching the snow, love?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a tenderness reserved only for you.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It reminds me of the first night I spent here. You used to say the snow welcomed me to the North."

Cregan smiled at the memory, his fingers gently entwining with yours. "Aye, and it seems the North has claimed you as one of its own ever since."

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the snow drifting outside, and the fire crackling softly beside you. Then, without warning, Cregan shifted slightly, his free hand coming to rest on your belly—just as it had so many times before, a hopeful gesture, though for so long it had brought neither joy nor comfort.

You looked down at his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch. "Perhaps it's not meant to be," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Perhaps one child is all we were granted."

Cregan's grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your dress. "You’ve always been stronger than fate, Y/N. If we are meant to have more children, we will. And if not..." He paused, looking up at you with such intensity that it made your heart skip a beat. "Then we will cherish the family we have."

The sincerity in his words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. "I love you, Cregan Stark."

"And I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin of your belly as he spoke. It was such a simple act, but the tenderness of it, the love that radiated from him, made your chest swell with emotion.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next. Winter held the North in its grip, and though life within Winterfell continued as always, there was a quiet hope that lingered between you and Cregan, an unspoken understanding that perhaps, just perhaps, the gods had not forgotten you after all.

Then one morning, as the sun barely crested the horizon, you woke with a strange feeling in your stomach—not pain, but something else. Something new. You lay still for a moment, waiting, your heart pounding in your chest as realization dawned upon you.

"Cregan," you whispered, nudging him awake beside you.

He stirred, groggy from sleep, but the moment his eyes met yours, he was alert. "What is it?"

"I... I think I'm with child," you said, the words feeling foreign and yet so familiar on your tongue.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, Cregan sat up, his hand already moving to your belly as if to confirm what you had just said. His grey eyes were wide with disbelief, and for the first time in what felt like years, there was unrestrained joy in his expression.

"Are you certain?" he asked, though the hope in his voice was undeniable.

You nodded, tears already welling in your eyes. "I'm certain."

The joy that erupted in the days following was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Winterfell, normally so cold and solemn, felt alive with the news of your pregnancy. The people celebrated quietly at first, but soon the halls were filled with laughter and congratulations. The maesters confirmed your suspicions, and Cregan all but swept you into his arms, grinning like a man who had won the greatest battle of his life.

From that day on, it was rare to see you without Cregan by your side. He was never far from you, his hand constantly finding its way to your stomach as if to remind himself—and everyone else—that life was growing within you. The people of Winterfell spoke of it often, how their lord was more tender with you than they had ever seen before. Some swore they saw him press soft kisses to your belly when he thought no one was watching.

You, too, felt the change in him. His protectiveness over you grew tenfold, but so did his tenderness. He would sit with you by the hearth in the evenings, his hand resting on your belly as the fire crackled beside you. "I can't wait to meet our child," he'd say softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder if they'll have your eyes."

"And your stubbornness," you teased, smiling as he chuckled.

Every tender moment between you was a reminder of the love you shared. The people of Winterfell watched with quiet admiration, and as the weeks passed, it became clear that this child—your child—would be born into a house filled with love, protected by both the Starks and Targeryens.

One evening, as the snow began to fall once more, Cregan knelt before you, resting his head against your belly. "Our child will be here soon," he whispered, his voice full of wonder. "And I will love them just as much as I love you."

You smiled down at him, your hand stroking through his dark hair. "I know you will, my love. I know."

The sky was a cold, slate gray, reflecting the heaviness that weighed on your heart. You had been restless all day, your hand unconsciously drifting to your swollen belly as you paced the stone floors of Winterfell. Cregan had gone to the Wall, seeing to matters with the Night's Watch, and while he often left for such duties, his absence felt more pronounced today, leaving you feeling uneasy.

You paused at the window, watching the snow swirl in the bitter northern wind. There had been no ravens for days, no word from Dragonstone, and though you had tried to push away your fears, the growing knot in your stomach told you something was amiss.

And then, it came. The raven. Black wings against the pale sky.

When the maester handed you the scroll, your fingers trembled, sensing the weight of it before your eyes even scanned the words. It was from Dragonstone—your mother’s seal—but it was not her handwriting. The letters blurred as you read them, and the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only the devastating truth in front of you.

Jacaerys is dead.

He had been slain at the Gullet, struck down during a battle with the greens. The words felt unreal, distant, as if they were written for someone else. But no, they were meant for you. Your Jace, your closest friend, your blood, was gone.

A choked sob escaped your lips, your body trembling as the grief hit you all at once. The scroll slipped from your hands and fell to the floor, unnoticed. All you could feel was the crushing weight of loss—the loss of your brother, of someone who had been part of your life for as long as you could remember. The one you had grown up with, laughed with, fought beside. The one who had been by your side during the most difficult moments of your life.

Jace.

You pressed your hand to your belly, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as the sorrow became overwhelming, twisting inside you like a blade. The baby... your baby. You could feel it—something was wrong. The sharp pain in your abdomen stole your breath, and suddenly the warmth you had cherished, the life growing within you, felt cold. Empty.

"No..." you whispered, stumbling backward as another wave of pain coursed through you. You clutched your stomach, but it was no use. The grief, the heartache—it was too much. You collapsed to the floor, clutching at your belly, the realization sinking in that the life you carried had slipped away, just as Jace had. Gone.

Servants found you there, unconscious and bleeding, their screams echoing through the halls of Winterfell as they rushed to fetch the maesters. But no maester, no amount of care, could undo what had already been done. By the time you awoke, it was too late. You had lost the baby.

When Cregan finally returned, having received word of Jacaerys's death at the Wall, his heart was already heavy with the knowledge of how devastated you would be. He had pushed his horse hard, riding through the night to return to you, knowing you would need him now more than ever.

But nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him.

The moment he stepped through the gates of Winterfell, he knew something was wrong. The air was thick with tension, the usual quiet bustle of the castle replaced with a heavy, oppressive silence. The servants barely met his eyes as they bowed, their faces pale. His chest tightened, fear creeping into his heart as he made his way through the familiar halls.

"Cregan," a voice called softly, and he turned to see the Maester Kennet approaching him with a grave expression. The look on his face confirmed Cregan's worst fears.

"She..." the maester began, his voice shaking slightly. "She lost the child, my lord. It happened shortly after the raven arrived from Dragonstone. The grief—"

Cregan didn’t wait for him to finish. He rushed past the maester, his heart pounding in his chest as he made his way to your chambers. He flung the door open, and there you were, lying in bed, pale and weak, your eyes red from crying. The sight of you like this, broken and devastated, was like a dagger to his heart.

You looked up when you heard the door, and when your eyes met Cregan’s, the dam broke again. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as you whispered, "He’s gone, Cregan... Jace is gone... and... our baby..."

Cregan crossed the room in an instant, gathering you into his arms, holding you as you wept into his chest. His own heart shattered as he held you, feeling the weight of your loss, your grief. He didn’t speak; words wouldn’t help, not now. All he could do was hold you, his strong arms wrapped around you as if he could somehow protect you from the pain you were feeling. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t shield you from this.

Inside, Cregan’s own grief began to twist into something darker—rage. Jacaerys had been his friend, one of the few he could trust in the turbulent world of war and politics. The news of his death was a blow to his own heart, but seeing you like this—broken and empty, having lost not only your brother but your child—it was unbearable.

He clenched his jaw, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. Whoever was responsible for Jacaerys’s death would pay. He would see to it. The rage that simmered in his veins burned hotter with every passing moment.

"I swear to you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet fury, "whoever is responsible for Jace’s death will pay. I will see to it myself."

You lifted your tear-streaked face to look at him, and for a moment, you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. Cregan was always strong, always steady, but now—now there was something else in him. Something dangerous.

"Cregan," you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. "Don’t... please, don’t go."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from your cheek. "I won’t leave you, not now. But justice will be done, Y/N. For Jace, for our child. I promise you."

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace even as the world around you felt cold and desolate. Cregan held you tightly, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge, of the blood that would be spilled in the name of those you had lost.

He would not rest until the one responsible for this pain had paid with their life.

[thenightwolf51]

"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

[crystallinestars]

A month had passed since the Luofu incident, and Jiaoqiu’s injuries had healed. It had been a long time since you last got to be intimate, and now that the foxian is in better shape, he’s eager to get his hands on you.  This is basically just smut with an attempt at hurt/comfort. I’m not good at writing scenarios, so this may be subpar at best, but I tried. Image source. Word count: 4584

WARNING:

MAJOR spoilers for the 2.5 story quest

Content aimed at an 18+ audience

Possibly OOC Jiaoqiu

Lots of vanilla smut and affection

Jiaoqiu x Fem!Reader (reader has a vagina)

Jiaoqiu sat on the edge of the couch while you carefully wrapped a fresh roll of gauze around his chest, covering up the ugly, jagged scars running across his chest. According to Jiaoqiu, the wounds had healed and required no further medical attention, but you couldn’t feel at ease until you did everything you could to ensure he healed properly. The shock of how close he had come to death still gripped your heart with ice-cold fingers, as did the grief of how much he had changed as a result.

A month ago, you had looked forward to welcoming Jiaoqiu home from his trip to the Luofu ship. You knew he was handling an important mission to transport Hoolay—the terrifying borisin leader who was the enemy of all foxians —to the Yaoqing ship, and that complications might arise when dealing with such a dangerous monster. However, never did you imagine Jiaoqiu will return to you blind and injured. He said he ingested Tumbledust—a lethal poison—to trick Hoolay into consuming it along with his blood. You mourned his loss of sight, but Jiaoqiu only smiled and assured you that it was a small price to pay for Hoolay’s downfall and that he did not regret his actions.

“There, all done,” you said while tying a final knot to hold the gauze securely around Jiaoqiu’s torso.

“Thank you. This should be the last time this is needed,” Jiaoqiu said as he patted the couch in search of his shirt.

You fell quiet as you stood in front of him and watched him struggle to find the shirt which rested just a bit farther from where his hand was fumbling about. What Jiaoqiu could once do in seconds without much thought, now required more time and effort on his part. It pained you to see him this way.

Jiaoqiu’s ears twitched at the prolonged silence, and as if sensing your downtrodden mood, he abandoned his search for the shirt in favor of reaching his hands toward you. For a split second, he lightly traced his hands along your stomach until they reached your waist, and then he looped them around you and pulled. You fell forward with a small yelp and found yourself straddling his lap with your hands tightly grasping his shoulders.

“Jiaoqiu! What are you doing?” you asked with mild annoyance, a bit frazzled by this sudden gesture.

“Can’t a man hug his girlfriend? It’s been a while since I got to hold you like this,” the foxian innocently replied and tightened his hold on you as he hugged you close. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt to rub small circles into the skin of your lower back, meanwhile his chin came to rest on your shoulder, his mouth beside your ear.

“I was just thinking about how much I missed your touch. You’ve been fussing over my condition ever since I returned, but I miss your intimate touches, dear,” he mused as he rubbed the tip of his nose along your neck. “Now that I’m fully recovered, I’m hungry for you, my love. Will you indulge me?”

Your breath hitched as Jiaoqiu’s hand slowly slid higher under your shirt, skimming along your ribs with his palms. You knew he wanted to have sex, and truth be told, you were craving it too. Ever since he came back injured, you abstained from sexual activity in favor of caring for your boyfriend. As a result, you were pent up and eager for some relief. Still, you worried about his physical condition.

Grasping the foxian’s wrist, you gently pulled it away from your body and held his hand in yours.

“I don’t know… it’s probably too soon,” you murmured, fixing your gaze upon his chest where several horrific scars lay hidden under the gauze.

Jiaoqiu sighed but didn’t push you. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. We don’t have to do anything. But there is no need to hold back for my sake. My injuries have healed well, and I am perfectly healthy,” he admonished, his tone gentle yet firm.

You were still unconvinced. Even if his injuries were fine, there was still the issue of his blindness. Jiaoqiu could no longer do certain things with you such as cooking food for you or watching your favorite shows together. It stood to reason that sex with him would be different too, and you worried you would mess it up. What if you overwhelmed or made him uncomfortable by going too fast or rough? What if the moment felt awkward and ruined the allure of sexual intimacy for the two of you?

As if sensing your anxious thoughts, Jiaoqiu let out a soft hum and traced his hands up your arms and shoulders, following their path to your face. His palms tenderly cupped your cheeks, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin.

“I’m a doctor, dear. I know how much I can handle and how far to push myself,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss you. However, his lips missed the mark, and he kissed the corner of your mouth instead.

“Oops. I’m still not used to this yet,” he chuckled as he pulled away, laughing off the little mishap, but you could still feel the lingering warmth of his lips on your skin, slightly off from where he wanted them to land, and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you cradled his face and lightly trailed your thumbs along the corners of his eyes, getting him used to being touched there, before placing two kisses on the outer corners of his eyes.

Jiaoqiu’s tail flicked.

“Your eyes…” you started in a whisper as you pressed your forehead to his, feeling a little emotional. It still pained you to see how much Jiaoqiu lost from swallowing that poison.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jiaoqiu said, his voice even and gentle. Slowly, one hand came to rest upon your head in a comforting gesture and the words you’ve heard several times over were said to you again: “It’s a small price to pay for Hoolay’s demise. I have no grievances, dear. I am content.”

I am content.

Jiaoqiu often repeated those words to remind you that he was happy with how things turned out in the end. The result may not be perfect, but for Jiaoqiu, it’s the best outcome he could have hoped for. Hoolay was gone, Feixiao had hope for a cure, and countless innocent lives were saved. In the grand scheme of things, those were all very positive outcomes, so the loss of his sight was insignificant by comparison. He could live just fine without it.

“Besides, you pity me too much, love. I’m not a fragile kit. These eyes of mine may not be of much use anymore, but I am still me. And right now, what I am is a man craving for his girlfriend’s affection,” he mused and ran a hand up the length of your spine in a feather-light caress.

Your breath hitched and you arched your back when Jiaoqiu’s hand trailed up your spine in the exact way he knew you liked. His touch sent tingles of pleasure through your back, causing you to shiver in delight.

A pleased smile tugged on his lips when he heard your breath catch and felt your body shudder on his lap. The healer traced your spine again, eager to feel and hear you react to his touch.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? If you let me, I’ll make you feel even better,” he purred against your ear and gave it a gentle nibble.

Overcome with lust and an intense craving for your boyfriend’s touch, you succumbed to his seduction. Taking hold of his chin, you guided Jiaoqiu’s mouth to meet yours. The kiss started out tender and sweet, full of the love you harbored for one another, but as your hands explored each other, the kiss became imbued with lust. Teeth nipped at lips and tongues met in a heated dance until your breaths ran short and you were forced to part for air.

Jiaoqiu’s hands mapped out the curves and dips of your body, slowly tracing the contours as if studying learning them for the very first time. Now that he no longer had his eyesight, his sense of touch served to teach him the look of your body. Though he had seen your bare figure many times before, now he was taking his time to truly familiarize himself with it. His palms glided over your shoulders and arms, the swells of your breasts, and the dips in your back, memorizing how you felt and reacted to every touch.

As you broke the kiss, a string of saliva joining you to Jiaoqiu’s mouth pulled back with you in a lewd display of desire, until it finally broke. A soft whisper of his name fell from your lips, and the foxian’s ears rotated in response to the sound. Their movement caught your attention.

Reaching your right hand up, you placed it on his head before slowly making your way toward the base of his ear so as to let him know what you wanted to do. Catching on to your intentions, Jiaoqiu chuckled and lowered his head so you could pet his ear more easily.

Your thumb rubbed gentle circles into the fluffiest part of his ear where you knew Jiaoqiu liked being touched. Sure enough, a subtle purr rumbled in the back of his throat. Encouraged by his response, you placed your left hand on his other ear and mirrored the process, rubbing both of his ears simultaneously. The foxian let out a shaky breath and tightened his grip on your hips, feeling your touch stronger than usual since the loss of his sight heightened his other senses.

You shifted to sit more comfortably on Jiaoqiu’s lap while petting his ears and felt a distinct hardness poke at you between your thighs. Even without looking down, you knew Jiaoqiu was pitching a tent. He wasn’t the only one feeling horny, however, and while still playing with his ears, you pressed your hips firmly against the bulge. A low, guttural groan tore from Jiaoqiu’s throat, and he leaned forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, giving the skin a playful nip. You ground your hips again in response and reveled in the sharp hiss that motion elicited from the healer.

Growing a bit impatient from the teasing, Jiaoqiu tugged at your shirt in a silent message for you to take it off. You complied and shed your clothing, tossing it to the side as you exposed your body to him, save for a pair of panties. Once you were back on his lap, Jiaoqiu’s hands eagerly explored your bare skin, unhindered by pesky clothing.

Your hands traveled across his broad shoulders and down to his chest still covered by the gauze. The feeling of his warm skin transitioning into the coarse material sent a pang through your heart, and you leaned down to kiss the skin above the gauze. In response, Jiaoqiu breathed a soft sigh in and traced his hands up to your breasts before cupping them in his palms and flicking your nipples with his thumbs. Biting back a moan, you ground your hips against his once more and continued to dry hump against his groin at a slow and steady pace.

With each slow yet firm swivel of your hips, your clothed pussy rubbed against his erection, sending sparks of pleasure through your body each time your clit grazed against his hardness.

The tip of Jiaoqiu’s tail thumped against the couch with impatience.

“You’re being quite the tease,” Jiaoqiu rasped, smile strained as he tried to control his desire to buck against your pussy. The amount of friction you provided felt good, but it was not enough.

“Am I? And here I was just trying to make you feel good,” you teased, but relented, wanting to be nice to Jiaoqiu. Reaching a hand between your bodies, you undid his pants and fished out his erection. His cock was stiff and hot, the mushroom tip leaking beads of precum. Jiaoqiu groaned and swished his tail when you gave his dick an experimental pump.

“Be gentle,” he reminded, already feeling overwhelmed by the sensation of your hand grasping his aching length. You hummed in acknowledgment and lubricated your palm with his precum and your saliva, before wrapping it around his cock. As your hand pumped the hard flesh at a slow and gentle pace, Jiaoqiu’s body tensed, and you heard his breath hitch.

“Does this feel good?” you asked, hoping this wasn’t too overwhelming for your boyfriend.

“Yes. Just keep going,” he groaned and leaned his forehead against your shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist in an almost desperate grip.

With his encouragement, you continued to pump his cock, going faster and gripping tighter when he said you could. Occasionally, you would switch to rubbing his tip with your palm or circling your thumb over the slit in the cockhead, smiling when you felt Jiaoqiu shiver in response to the stimulation.

Soft gasps and strained groans spilled from his lips, and his ears and tail twitched each time you stimulated a particularly sensitive spot on his cock. To enhance his pleasure, you used your free hand to rub circles on the skin around the base of his tail and trailed kisses along his neck, sucking marks into the areas you knew he liked. Pretty soon, Jiaoqiu was panting and rocking his hips into your hand, chasing after his release.

“Hah… Ah! Don’t stop—I’m close,” he moaned, voice coming out strained as he tried to hold back his sounds of pleasure.

Wanting to push your beloved over the edge, you kissed him hard and deep while jerking his cock at a steady pace and massaging the base of his tail. Jiaoqiu moaned into your mouth, and after a few seconds, you felt his cock twitch as ropes of cum covered your hand. Breaking the kiss, you pulled back and gave his dick a few more slow pumps, milking as much pleasure from his orgasm as you could, before finally letting go and wiping your hand on your thigh.

Jiaoqiu looked like a disheveled mess, ears askew and cheeks flushed as he sat there, gasping for breath.

“That felt way better than I remember,” he rasped with a weak smile.

Chuckling, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and pulled him in for a hug, letting Jiaoqiu recover from his orgasm.

“I’m glad it did. I had almost forgotten how good you look, all flushed like this,” you teased, earning a light pinch to your nipple from Jiaoqiu.

“I still haven’t forgotten how you look when you fall apart under my touch,” he said, turning the tables as he slid a hand between your legs. His fingers carefully traced over your crotch, feeling the outlines of your labia before cupping your clothed pussy.

“If there’s one thing I miss seeing, it’s that lovely face of yours when you orgasm,” he teased and laughed when you playfully slapped at his arm in retaliation.

Whatever barbed comments you wanted to send his way quickly died on your tongue as a surprised moan tore from your throat when Jiaoqiu found your clit and pressed his thumb against it. A molten knot of pleasure tightened in your abdomen when his thumb circled your clit over your drenched panties, eliciting another moan from you.

“What a lovely sound. I want to hear it again,” he purred. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good. Let's get you nice and wet for me, shall we?”

 Jiaoqiu pushed aside your panties and slipped a single digit inside your soaking pussy, making you groan as your walls sucked it deeper inside.

“You’re so tight and wet,” he said in a husky whisper, slowly moving his finger in and out of your cunt, creating a lewd, wet noise with each pump. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Jiaoqiu adjusted the angle of his hand and slid a second finger into you. His thumb teased your clit in languid circles while his fingers slowly scissored you open, prepping you for his cock. You moaned and bucked your hips into his hand, wanting more stimulation.

Jiaoqiu chuckled but doubled down his efforts to please you. His thumb pressed harder against your nub, and he curled his fingers inside you, searching for that one spot on the upper wall of your vagina that made you see stars. When he found it, he pressed on it over and over again with each thrust of his fingers, smirking at how you keened and clutched his shoulders in response.

“Feels good, does it?” he mused, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yeah, but you talk too much,” you huffed and kissed Jiaoqiu to shut him up. The foxian only laughed into the kiss, but let his tongue play with yours while he sped up the thrusts of his fingers.

He broke the kiss and carefully leaned his head forward to touch his forehead against yours, your warm breaths mingling together as you rutted against his hand. The knot in your belly grew tighter and tighter, your climax steadily approaching as the healer worked to send you over the edge.

Once you were sufficiently relaxed, Jiaoqiu plunged a third finger into your core and switched to rubbing your clit with the heel of his palm. You groaned at the stretch and clung to his shoulders, instinctively bucking your hips against his hand, trying to take the digits deeper. Soft moans of his name slipped past your lips as you moved your hips in time with his hand, feeling the knot in your belly slowly tighten.

Jiaoqiu’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, and he gently kissed your neck and shoulders, whispering praises about how lovely you sounded to encourage you to let more of your voice out. His other hand trailed along your side, reaching up to squeeze your breast and tease your nipple, or reaching behind to run along your spine in that same teasing manner, smiling when he felt your pussy flutter around his fingers in response.

“Are you close?” Jiaoqiu asked, keeping that same steady rhythm as he fingered you, hitting your g-spot.

“Y-Yeah… I’m close,” you answered, your voice wavering as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax.

“Then let go. Let me feel you come all over my fingers,” he whispered into your ear and gave it a nip.

As if by command, your body convulsed and you were hurled into an orgasm, hips desperately bucking into Jiaoqiu’s hand while your walls squeezed his digits. You stifled your moans against his shoulder, and Jiaoqiu continued to thrust his fingers into you, helping you ride out your orgasm until you stopped trembling. The foxian gently pulled his fingers out of your pussy, drenched and slick with your essence, before licking them clean.

“I missed your taste…” Jiaoqiu murmured, savoring your flavor, making you blush at this erotic display. The foxian gently pulled you against his chest, and you slumped against him, breathing heavily as you regained your senses.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, lightly stroking your head.

“Good. Very good,” you replied with a breathless chuckle. “I haven’t felt this relaxed in a while.”

Jiaoqiu smiled, pleased that he had such an effect on you.

Though the healer didn’t say anything, you felt his erection poke at your abdomen and knew that his body wanted more than the one orgasm you gave him earlier.

“Do you want to keep going?” you asked him as you traced a finger along the slimy mushroom tip. Jiaoqiu flinched at the unexpected touch and hissed.

“I wouldn’t mind if we kept going, but only if you want to, love.”

Smiling, you leaned in and gave him a light peck on the lips. “I do want to,” you said. “I’ve gone way too long without feeling you inside me. Just let me know if you need to stop.”

You made Jiaoqiu agree to tell you if he felt discomfort at any point before adjusting yourself on his lap. Lifting your hips, you lined up the tip of his cock with your entrance, taking a moment to tease it over your opening and coat it with your slick. Jiaoqiu stifled a groan and tightened his grip on your hips, restraining the urge to thrust his hips up and bury his aching cock in your slick warmth.

Once the tip was pressed against your entrance, you slowly sank down, taking Jiaoqiu’s length inch by inch. You both moaned once he bottomed out and basked in the familiar feeling of being joined together.

“I missed this,” Jiaoqiu said, resting his forehead against your shoulder while he breathed deeply to try and acclimate to the snug squeeze of your pussy. The sensation felt more intense than he remembered. “You feel so good around me, dear.”

“I missed this too,” you murmured, hugging Jiaoqiu and stroking his head.

“I wish I could see your face right now. I bet you look really cute,” he added in a low voice and traced a hand up your body until he felt the familiar curve of your jaw. His index finger lightly traced your cheek, causing your heart to squeeze in your chest. Taking his hand, you leaned your cheek into his palm and kissed the inside of his wrist. Jiaoqiu tensed at the sensation at first but quickly relaxed and smiled.

When both of you had grown accustomed to the sensations, you started moving. Gripping Jiaoqiu’s shoulders, you ground against him by slowly rotating your hips. His cock pleasantly rubbed along your walls, stoking the fire in your belly. Jiaoqiu let out another low moan and hugged you close, pressing your bodies flush together.

After a few minutes of this slow, gentle grinding, Jiaoqiu adjusted his hold on your waist and bucked upwards, driving himself deeper inside you. You moaned in surprise and stopped.

“You can move faster, I’m not going to break,” he reminded you, a hint of pleading in his voice. He wasn’t satisfied with this gentle pace.

“Fine. You’re so impatient,” you playfully chided him, but complied. Getting into a more comfortable position, you lifted off his lap before lowering back down again, biting back a moan at how his cock dragged against your walls. Over and over, you gently bounced on his dick, slowly picking up speed and angling your hips so his tip hit that sweet spot deep inside, sending jolts of pleasure through you with each thrust.

Jiaoqiu groaned and nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking more marks into the skin while his tail swished side to side in excitement. One of his hands roamed along your back, nails lightly raking down your spine and causing you to moan and shiver with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around his member, eliciting another throaty noise of pleasure from the foxian.

The sharp sounds of skin slapping against skin mixed with your heady moans of pleasure echoed in the room as you rode Jiaoqiu’s length. The knot in your belly tightened even more as you felt your climax slowly approach, but the tired aching in your thighs made you slow down. Your slowed pace alerted Jiaoqiu to your tiredness, and he skimmed a hand between your bodies until his fingers found your clit. He pressed hard on it and rubbed tight circles with the pad of his thumb, causing you to jolt and moan in response.

“Just a little more, dear. Hang in there for a little longer,” he encouraged, voice hoarse with pleasure. The stimulation against your clit motivated you to keep moving, chasing after your release that was now within reach.

“Jiaoqiu, I’m gonna cum,” you slurred, pressing your torso firmly against his as you spend up your thrusts. The foxian looped an arm around your waist, holding you close while still working on your clit.

“Go on, dear, cum for me. I’m also close,” he said in a strained voice, desperately trying to hold out to come together with you.

After a few more eager thrusts and rubs against your clit, you came with a loud cry. Your hands dug into Jiaoqiu’s shoulders as you rode out the high, hips eagerly grinding against his as your pussy pulsed around his cock. Jiaoqiu followed after you and climaxed while groaning your name, bucking his hips up into yours, forcing himself deeper into your cunt as he spilled inside your warmth.

With a shudder, you came down from your orgasm and slumped against Jiaoqiu’s torso, feeling completely spent. You were out of breath and your legs ached, but you were satisfied in a way you hadn��t felt in a while. Not since Jiaoqiu left for the Luofu over a month ago.

The feeling of the foxian’s hands gently massaging your thighs brought you back to reality, and you tilted your head to look up at him. His lips were curled into a serene and sincere smile, an expression of true happiness adorning his face.

“How do you feel?” he asked that familiar question, one he always asked after each session of sex you had with him. As a doctor and your partner, he felt it was his duty to make sure you were alright afterward.

“Tired but thoroughly satisfied,” you said with a contented hum. Jiaoqiu’s smile widened.

“I’m glad. You did well,” he said and kissed your forehead.

After the two of you regained your strength, Jiaoqiu pulled out of you but kept you on his lap, hugging you close while still massaging the soreness out of your thighs. His head lay on your shoulder, tail lazily swaying from side to side while you absentmindedly rubbed one of his ears. He appeared to be at peace, a state you haven’t seen him in for weeks. After all, it’s hard to be at ease when you suddenly lose the functionality of your eyes and have to learn how to navigate the world without eyesight.

“One day, we’ll heal your eyes,” you whispered with determination. “I promise.”

Jiaoqiu let out a small hum, his tail pausing in its movements.

“I know you will. You and Feixiao will make it happen, one way or another,” he said with a hint of amusement. “But even if you don’t, I’ll be happy as long as I have you and everyone else by my side.”

He leaned in for a kiss, but his lips landed on your chin. Chuckling at his awkward targeting, the healer gently gripped your chin and tilted your head up for a proper kiss.

Jiaoqiu was still your beloved Jiaoqiu through and through. He was content to live a life where his loved ones were safe and happy, but you wanted to at least try to search for a solution to his blindness. Whether you had to scour through heaps of ancient records or travel to the other side of the universe, you wanted to help and heal Jiaoqiu the way he had helped and healed so many others.

But if by some misfortune there was no cure for his ailment, you will remain by his side no matter what. Jiaoqiu is devoted to you and you to him, and that will never change.