#so happy that she ended up choosing him!!!!

[heytherecentaurs]

Gauntlet at the Garden Thoughts: (Spoilers)

All the Intrepid Heroes look incredible in Gauntlet at the Garden. Lou with his jacket. Murph with his long hair. Siobhan and her mod outfit. But goddamn Emily Axford was born to play Sofia. She rocks the tight leopard print dress and red lip to staggering degrees of hotness. Also that little wiggle she did. How dare she.

I love how Emily just added that lil bit about Dale at the end. She does this in every live show where she ties stuff up or gives it a through line or an emotional beat. She’s the heart of the intrepid heroes. Like Brennan said, she loves things so much they become real.

Brennan successfully conquered the biggest task of making an entertaining 1 shot for 6 people in a room of 20000 spectators. Truly a remarkable feat! The way he manages to juggle the storytelling, game mechanics and performance is a measure of genius of which few DMs are capable.

Everyone got their moments. Zac was a little quiet but that’s just because he does what he always does and picks his moments carefully. His awkward convo with Esther was pitch perfect.

Siobhan got to roll the big D20, which was so cool. She always brings so much energy and so much sass. Her throwing shade at the sugar plum fairy is great. Love that Misty seems to hate every other fairy.

Ally will always frame a thing in such a funny way that it becomes a running gag. Like they know the common way to describe it but by choosing the creative off kilter choice, they add to the show. They’ve really got improv technique honed to perfection.

Murph brought a perfect lil guy energy to the show. Kug is great and may be one of my favourite characters of his. I’m glad he went with Kug and not Cody. As much as I like Cody, Kug is so beloved and more grounded. It makes sense. Also he got to have his live at MSG wrestling moment. Super happy for him.

Lou had that big wrestling moment with Murph. And he got to be Kingston in New York, which must have been incredible. Kingston is one of my all-time favourite D20 PCs and seeing him at MSG in a NYC jacket was perfection.

I understand they had time restraints and it’s improv so the pacing is all over, which I’m not mad about. Everyone got a moment. Every npc got a moment. There were flames, sparklers and confetti. Animated graphics. Huge box of doom. Cool audience participation mechanic. But I could’ve watched that for 4-5 hours and been giddy about it.

[rozzingit]

so i finally finished clair obscur: expedition 33 and i have SO many feels.

(many, MANY spoilers within)

when i turned 25, over a decade ago, my brother committed suicide. i talked to him on the phone earlier in the day when he wished my happy birthday. the next morning, i woke up to a voicemail from my dad telling me to call him. that it was an emergency.

to say that this specific experience had a big impact on how i experienced expedition 33 would be a vast understatement.

expedition 33 is, as countless people have found and pointed out, an exploration of grief. we see this quite directly and immediately: the culture of lumiere is one shaped entirely around the collective experience of grief. its people die younger and younger every year. children are born to parents they will never know. over the course of the game, as we collect journal after journal from past expeditions, we see despair, but we also see stubborn, desperate hope. we see entire expeditions dedicated to building one more step for the next expedition to come. we see how tragically close some of them got.

but it's also about very individual grief. it's about one family torn apart by loss, and how much damage they do because of that.

i knew as soon as i finished the game that the ending would be controversial. or divisive. something like that. because there's no true happy ending. and there's no ending where you truly get to grapple with the personhood of these people who were born within the canvas. there's no ending that respects them as individuals, as people, because the dessendres simply don't see them that way. and when you play tens of hours of a game loving these characters...that's a hard pill to swallow.

what would the happy ending be? a happy ending would be the dessendres repairing the world -- and then, most importantly, leaving it. the canvas kept safe somewhere in their world. the people within allowed to live their lives how they choose, without the threat of annihilation hanging over them. but even that isn't entirely happy. even that traps the sliver of verso's soul inside the canvas, unable to ever stop. and this ending is never even possible, because the dessendres simply can't. they don't have the capability.

so the choice the game gives you is this: let go, or kill yourself holding on. and no, it doesn't truly ever reconcile with the reality of the canvas world. it doesn't. i understand why some people are unhappy and dissatisfied. especially if you just didn't connect with the dessendres as a family, with their story and their tragedy, and if you cared far more about lune and sciel and the expeditioners -- that's going to feel like a narrative betrayal. because, in a way, it is.

but for me, playing through this story as a treatise on grief, and viewing that ending decision through the lens of grief -- let go, or kill yourself holding on -- it hit so deeply, powerfully hard. because there's no clean way to move on from grief. there's no way forward that doesn't hurt. and, most importantly, there's no way forward that doesn't involve losing more than you already lost.

you already lost the person. but to move forward, you have to let go of some of the pieces of them, as well. there's too many of them. a person's life and soul they leave behind is too large, too varied, too heavy to keep carrying with you forever. you have to let them go. you have to let some of those pieces die. to move forward is to engage in a cruel game of prioritization. what can you keep? what can you survive keeping?

maelle can't survive keeping the canvas. she can't. she won't. her ending is a horror show of keeping corpses alive. everything fine on the surface, but everything rotting underneath. the people she keeps are either aware enough to know they're prisoner, or ignorant enough not to question the world.

verso will live yet another lifetime. he'll only be free when she dies, and renoir surely, inevitably, finally destroys the canvas.

my choice was made before i even knew there would be a choice. it was made when verso steps into that final space and approaches the soul of the canvas. when he kneels down and asks that little boy if he's tired of painting. when he says he's tired, too.

watching maelle's ending after i finished the game and seeing verso beg and plead with her to let him go, to let him die -- it broke something inside of me a little bit. i never got to have that conversation with my brother. i never knew it was that bad. but i wonder if that was the conversation he had with himself, on some level.

death always has a cost to the people around us. verso's death destroys an entire world, because that's what death does. my brother's death destroyed my world, too.

it wasn't a good ending for the characters. there is no good ending for everyone. sometimes those are the choices we're left with.

but it was a good ending for the game.

[vampiricalxdata]

“This could be a trap to get you and Nichole.”

“No, not him.”

“You’re lying to yourself.”

It’s the 2nd episode of season 6. After a seemingly impossible reunion between mother and daughter, this line stings like a slap in the face.

It’s inflammatory. It’s accusatory.

It’s also loaded as fuck.

And it stands on the back of everything the audience has seen and learned.

Holly: The Activist. The Mother.

(In that order.)

In season 2, we get to learn a bit more about Holly. We know she’s a doctor and a feminist. We know it was her connections that help Luke and June nearly escape. Now, though, we get to know what kind of mother she was.

Baggage (2x03) starts with June in the Boston Globe. She’s trying to understand Gilead, how it came to be. She remembers her mom taking her to a Take Back the Night rally and it’s an admission of admiration. For her strength and bravery and passion.

But then it’s followed by her voicing to Nick the shame she feels leaving Hannah behind. He tells her it’ll be better for everyone. (And at this point Serena is reaching her peak cruelty so he might be right.) But June rebuts. “Better never means better for everyone.” Thanks for that one Fred. And all he can do is hold her. Because they both know there is no right answer. There’s just taking the next step forward.

So June spends the rest of her escape trying to find a way to be okay with it by reflecting on her relationship with Holly. Which, evidentially, is a complicated one.

June struggles to meet the expectations of her mother. Holly fails to see the value in her daughter.

It’s not without love, though. And by the end, June recalls a happy memory. Driving with Holly down an open road, bare feet on the dashboard, Gwen Stefani playing in the background. It’s silly and happy and free.

But it does begin a reoccurring pattern for the pair. Because despite the love, they’re at constant odds.

Holly’s unimpressed by June’s publishing job. She disapproves of June’s marriage to Luke. Admonishes her for having Hannah baptized.

And we never really see June defend herself against the criticisms. Not in the kitchen, when she masks her hurt over Holly’s opinions of her job and future marriage. Not in the church, where she chooses to shush her mom rather than state her reasons for doing it.

Holly frames the choices as frivolous and passive.

“It’s time to get out in the street and fight, not play house.”

It’s an unfair assessment that ironically disregards June’s agency. But it’s also not made lightly.

And later, while talking to Moira in the red center, June concedes to Holly.

“You were right,” Moria says.

“So was she,” June admits.

It’s as close to a compromise as these two ever really get. It becomes a spark in June’s transformation.

And by the time she gets to Alaska, June’s no longer the woman she was. She’s not the woman who “played house.” She’s not the woman being led blindly from point A to point G, like in Baggage.

June’s a legend in her own right. She’s saved kids and marthas. She’s survived Serena and Fred; torture and bombs. She’s pissed off Gilead so much so that they’re sending assassins to Canada. And she has, not one, but two commanders in her pocket— Lawrence and Nick.

But Holly doesn’t know any of that. She doesn’t know how her daughter changed.

“You’re not a spy. You’re not a soldier.”

“You don’t really know what I’ve done mom.”

And that’s the moment Holly learns about Nick.

Not “Mom I’ve been psychologically tortured within an inch of my life when they made me and all the other handmaids think we were getting executed.” Not “Mom I was waterboarded.” Not “Mom, I organized getting 80+ kids out.” Not “Mom, I’m the reason those letters made it outand Nick helped.”

Because it’s too late for explanations. Their base dynamic already reared its ugly head:

The critical mother; The daughter who won’t stand up for her choices.

“Drivers are eyes.”

Yes, thanks for that information. This is definitely news. June stays silent.

“And now he’s a commander.”

June is receiving the full weight of what this implies.

“This could he a trap to get you and Nichole.”

That gets a reaction.

“No,” she laughs.

Because the idea of Nick trying to trap them? Insane. Unbelievable. The literal antithesis of everything Nick has done. I don’t even know that Bizarro World!Nick would pull that.

But instead of saying that, she’s bound to the same cyclical pattern she and Holly always end up at.

With a slight change, because this time she reverse Uno cards Holly.

“You have to show up and fight.”

“I was wrong…All you can do is survive and protect the people that you love.”

“All you can do is survive and protect the people that you love.”

Sound familiar?

The fight devolves quickly after that.

You’re fucking a n*zi.

You abandoned me.

Words meant to wound. Statements that beg for context.

Is he a fascist? Or was he just trying to survive and protect the ones he loves?

Did she abandon June? Or did she think she was leading by example?

Questions that ultimately go unanswered even at their resolution. Because June and Holly don’t bend to the other’s perspective. Because Holly doesn’t trust her daughter to make informed decisions. And June doesn’t trust her mother to hear her when she talks.

Instead, they return to territory they’re familiar with.

“No mother is ever completely a child’s idea of what a mother should be. And I suppose it works the other way round as well.” -Baggage, 2x03

Only this time, despite the struggle to accept the other’s POV (old habits die hard), they find common ground in baby Holly’s safety.

And for them, that’s enough.

For now, that’s enough.

“Raise your daughter to be a feminist. She spends all her time needing to be rescued by men.”

It’s worth noting: This is the first time June is ever confronted about Nick.

Luke would rather not bring him up at all, except when necessary for Hannah. Tuello seems to have fairly positive opinions on him, if at least an understanding of the moral ambiguity that goes with the role. And if Moira has reservations we certainly never hear it.

Up until now she’s toed a line with Nick & Luke, letting her geographic location make the choice for her. When she’s in Gileadand no man’s land, she’s with Nick. In Canada, she’s with Luke.

But season 4 ends with a definitive blurring of that line via the location of a literal one: No man’s land. An area that goes on to serve as the back drop for a number of trysts (Fred’s death) and collusions (Noah’s birth).

So, what does that mean for June?

As the series comes to a close, she stands at the precipice of her role as both revolutionary and leader.

And as all of these threads of the story come to a head in New Bethlehem, there’s a glaring problem; a defining choice she has yet to make.

A choice that at first glance appears to be purely romanticnot that there’s anything wrong if it was. A choice rooted in self actualization.

She’s not just picking a partner, she’s choosing the person she wants to be.

Luke & June: A leader. His right hand.

With Luke, she has a tendency to defer to him. To be more passive. It’s a role they’re both used to.

So when they’re reunited, they clash.

And while Luke is more or less who he was, June is far from the woman he knew.

This June is filled with so much unadulterated rage that she is sincerely incapable of containing it.

She’s strategic and fierce, and sometimes cruel. And try as she might to find her way back, Gilead is always there. Taunting her and twisting the knife.

And even when they find new ground, even when Serena gets to Luke and they march off into no man’s land, he’s still trying to lead June.

They dance and sing in the abandoned bowling alley, despite her protest. When they get caught by dollar store Fred, there’s no strategizing how to get out. And rather than listen to June about how to act, he ignores her.

Then when he decides to join Mayday, it’s not hand in hand with June.

“It’s my turn to fight for Hannah.”

Not, let’s do it together. Not, we’re partners in this.

Luke is angry. He intends to be a leader. He intends to be impressive and useful.

It’s admirable.

But he’s as naive as he was the day Zoe stopped him in season 1. And June —the new June— doesn’t soften blows. She tells him he doesn’t know what he’s getting into. Just like Zoe did.

And this dynamic only serves to pull them apart.

Because for June and Luke, the relationship they had has fossilized. Their connecting factor is Hannah. And as important as it is, it can’t save them when they’ve become so different.

If they can’t move forward together, what is it they gain from preservation?

Nick & June: A partnership. A team.

Which brings us to Nick.

The fascist commander of Gilead.

The soldier prodigy who couldn’t keep a job.

The emotional mess who couldn’t get through a temp agency interview without it getting physical but was even tempered enough to be a key player in the destruction of one country and construction of another.

The driver so astute and so important to the cause he wasn’t issued a woman in the three years Gilead existed.

A man so dedicated to Gilead he risked his life to get his girlfriend and baby out (2x) because he knows it’s not a good place?

A man who lives in so much grey you’d think it was a DesiLu production. *cue crickets*

In truth, the fog surrounding Nick is speculation buried in inflammatory language. So, instead we focus on what we know.

Ironically, what we know about Nick can be summed up in a single line spoken by the same woman who called him a n*zi.

“All you can do is survive and protect the people that you love.”

Because that’s what Nick does.

He did it when he fell prey to the Sons of Jacob to support his dad and brother. He did it when he went to Mayday to get June out. Twice.

And not for nothing, but when June showed up at that plane in Baggage, another driver showed up, too. Another driver who was an obvious stand in for Nick. A driver who was shot and dragged out from the plane just before they captured June.

Point to Nick, because he doesn’t just protect the people he loves, he survives while doing it. And June, is the exact same in that regard.

Whatever compromises she has to make, whatever parts of herself she has to sacrifice, is worthwhile if it means getting a step closer to Hannah.

Whatever it takes.

And Nick accepts that. Even if it means trying to free her from Gilead prison. Because his role with her was always clear. He doesn’t lie to her, doesn’t tell her what to do or how to act (except when advising her on how to be safe). He never admonishes her for leaving baby Holly with Emily. And when she pushes back at him at the Boston Globe, he gives her his gun. But he doesn’t stop her.

Because he never stops her.

Because Nick knows exactly who June is. And he may not know what crazy shit she’ll pull next but he knows she will. And he accepts it because he accepts her.

And in exchange, June has offered him purpose. A family. A reason. “More than this bullshit life.” And what a motivator it’s been.

Because as a team, June and Nick strengthen each other. Even apart, their influence is palpable.

It took Tuello 2 minutes in a room with Nick and unconscious June to see it. It took Lawrence even less.

Because together, they’re partners.

[kalaidope]

I have quickly found I don't know what to post exactly, so uh... here's a bit of info about my (current) headcanons for Poppy's fam, I guess.

I headcanon the Pop Trolls were stuck in the Troll Tree for generations. At that point, they'd all adjusted as much as one can adjust to a life like that. Digging escape tunnels through the roots of the tree was Vida's idea. She convinced an initially hesitant Peppy (because there was the risk of severe punishment if they were ever caught trying to escape) to take a chance on it. She essentially led that project, though it took many years to dig out to the ends of the roots far beyond the perimeter of Bergentown.

Viva's ten years older than Poppy. The year Poppy was "laid", Trollstice came along before she'd hatched. The immediate royal family was meant to be exempt from Trollstice, because they were meant to manage the Trolls on the royal chef's behalf, but the Chef from 2016 went against precedent. The queen of the Bergens had recently passed, and to cheer King Gristle Sr. up (and to get in his good graces) she broke the rules and served him the queen of the Trolls for Trollstice.

Two years later, at dawn on another Trollstice day, they finally dug out into the forest outside of Bergentown. That's my reason for the Trolls escaping at the very last minute before the Trollstice feast. Instead of allowing another Trollstice to come to pass, Peppy chose to evacuate the tree that very morning as fast as they could, choosing to have faith that no more lives would be lost on Trollstice and not a single Troll would be left behind.

The Bergens caught on before the Trolls were fully out of the tunnels, and so many Trolls were separated and presumed dead, Princess Viva included.

Peppy got a lot of his courage from Vida's support throughout the years. The girls get their determination from her (and their cheery peppy attitudes from dad). Vida convinced him to hope that the Trolls could be free one day when he'd grown up being taught that the best hope for a happy existence for his people would be to accept their fates and focus on the bright side of their lives in the Troll Tree. In a lot of ways, he was a coward before Vida encouraged him to strive for more. But even if most of the Trolls escaped and they all believed they would never have to worry about Trollstice again, the loss of Viva and all those other Trolls ruined his confidence. He'd failed. He was two steps forward and one step back in as far as overcoming his cowardice. That's why he's much more pragmatic in the present, "not the king he once was", and ends up clashing with Poppy's unrelenting optimism.

So uh... ye.

[agentrouka-blog]

Hi, Rouka! 😁

Is saying that you ship Sansa with happiness, lemon cakes, agency, and supposedly harmless or non-threatening people (Podrick, Willas, etc.) infantilizing her—because it ignores something that has real potential to make her happy, something that she uses her agency to choose (ie, the Hound)—in terms of presuming that women don’t know their own minds and need to be told what’s best for them, and implying that what Sansa should want is more important than what actually makes her happy?

Quick question: can you infantilize a child?

Also, we can and should draw a line between shipping and canon speculation.

I do not - literally do not - care what people ship in the privacy of their fandom experience. If Sansan floats someone's boat then I neither have to know nor ever care.

If questions are brought to me about canon speculation - or I just feel like commenting on my blog - then we can have an exchange about the probability of author intentions and implications of specific developments.

The idea that Sansa "choosing" to be with a man who tried to rape a 12-year-old prisoner still on her first period and only refrained from doing so because she shamed him into it with her childlike innocence and a religious hymn.... the idea that this is first and foremost an expression of agency and "happiness" on her part? Finally handing to her abuser what he was denied in that moment? Because he suddenly somehow becomes a source of happiness as opposed to terror and revulsion and pity?

Can we be serious for one second and just honestly admit that this is nonsense? That Protagonist Sansa's destiny in the plot is probably not about which of her abusers she will end up choosing? Because that's the extent of her options?

You don't need to have a "woke" justification for enjoying Sansan. But if your mind takes twists and turns of this kind to create a sense of legitimate canon speculation for this scenario you're just being silly.

[rhube]

Existentialism and the Andor finale (and other French things)

[Contains spoilers]

Thinking about how the antiquities business Kleya and Luthen run was built up, not from rich people ransacking cultural heritage, but from two messed up vagabonds trading up scraps of things no one else valued, whose value they knew, finding the buyers who would appreciate them, and scraping enough together first to live off, and then to start a rebellion.

The contrast between those early trades and that disgustingly priceless wedding gift that should have been shared with the people it was stolen from.

Something about Luthen knowing what all these pieces are worth, but knowing that life and freedom is worth more than them anyway. How it's not that he's ignoring their value, it's that he would sacrifice everything, even his own life, to bring the Empire down.

It's like burning the Mona Lisa in Glass Onion. It doesn't mean the art isn't valuable. It just means that people are worth more.

And that last use of that knife. Which might be the most valuable thing in Luthen's collection. Or it might be worthless. In terms of money. But either way it still works as a knife.

Something something fear in a handful of dust.

Something about Sartre's distinction between living beings, for which existence precedes essence, and tools - he gives the example of a knife - where essence precedes existence. Because it was designed with a purpose in mind.

The knife wasn't designed to be a priceless item in a collection. Whatever value it has accrued on that basis remains deeply dubious because Luthen doesn't know its provenance.

It was designed to cut things.

Luthen believes it was designed for blood letting. Sacrifices. That is its essence. Not the cultural value that was projected onto it later.

But life? The life of a self-aware being? That is truly priceless, because a person exists before their essence is determined. They determine their own purposes.

The more I think about it, the more I think there is deliberate reference to Sartre's Existentialism is a Humanism, here.

It's not just the knife. It's not just about determining your own journey. Another of Sartre's examples in that paper is of a young man (Cassian) who wonders if he should join the French Resistance (the Rebellion) or stay home and care for his sick parent (Cassian's adoptive mum). The young man goes to Sartre (Luthen) for advice and Sartre tells him that he can't make that decision for him, but in choosing who to ask for advice, he was already making he own choice. We don't let others control us when we go to them for advice. We choose who we take advice from and in doing so make our decisions. The young man knows what he wants to do already; he just wants permission.

Existentialism is a philosophy that rose out of the existential threat of the World Wars. Just as the modernist 'fear in a handful of dust' is a response to the fear of cultural annihilation. Yeats' widening gyre of chaos and fear that the centre cannot hold. Luthen's growing sense throughout the season that there are too many threads for him to hold onto anymore. The new leaders of the rebellion knowing nothing of Luthen's contributions. Dedra's fear of the chaos of freedom, and her loyalty to order. An order that comes for her as well in the end. Because SHE requires more freedom than the Empire permits, and it doesn't bring the safety she believes is its reward.

I've seen Syril compared to Jean Val Jean, but I think Dedra is a better fit, in her dogged pursuit of Axis. She never forgets. She never gives up. She gets her man, but it is too late. Whereas Syril does forget. All he really wanted was recognition and a nice suit. He was happy on Ghorman, in the end. And Dedra fucked that up. The final pursuit of Cassian is an after thought. Cassian literally never thought about him at all. But Luthen knows Dedra is pursuing him. He plans for it. And her self-inflicted devastation is so much impactful to her than Syril's brief realization of his own insignificance before he dies.

I suppose they both mirror Jean Val Jean, but Dedra was always the more dedicated fascist. She BELIEVES in order. Syril just wanted the respect he never had from his mum.

I don't have a conclusion for this - I am sick as a dog, and the response to my last Andor post co firms that no one really reads what I have to say when I get philosophical - but I enjoy noticing these things, and I believe they are intentional, even if everyone else thinks I just talk bollocks.

[thesexynarrator]

"Fuckin' Liam", iron maidens, and knives, oh my! It seems like you've taken a liking to Omen, a blood thirsty overlord that got roped into the redemption arc program. This will turn out interestingly.

STATS:

+10 Boldness

>10 Smarts

Go to the Con afterparty with her, but don't forget to have a deep conversation.

If you thought almost dying in her iron maiden was bad, you should check out these secret endings to feel better!

Grimoire & Redemption give insight on her.

Each ending has three events.

Grimoire:

Obtained by RNG. Played though again by sitting with her and choosing, "Go For A Walk".

“Someone needs to enroll Doug in a cooking class, stat. But right now, you gotta cheer up Omen by finding a spell they can cast with no magic!”

Option 1: This spell is for shooting metal projectiles at a deadly speed. You're pretty sure that's just a gun.

+2 Boldness, -2 Fun

Option 2: You don't need a possession spell to control someone else's body. Just piggyback-ride them!

+2 Fun, -2 Boldness

---

“Omen's ego is clearly riding on this – and hey, with any luck, this might result in her riding on YOU someday! How can you summon an entity, no magic required?”

Option 1: “Summoning powerful entities is an exercise in selfishness. You're always calling them to come to you… have you ever considered visiting them?”

+2 Charm, -2 Fun

Option 2: “Order a pizza. It's like summoning the delivery person. And it includes pizza, which most traditional summon spells lack!”

+2 Fun, -2 Charm

---

“Oof, that's a tall order… but Omen's happiness is on the line! Time to raise those bones!”

Option 1: This is your true calling as a shenanigans-doer: convince Omen she has raised an army of re-animated skeletons by pulling off the biggest “Weekend at Bernie's” ever. — Fun Check

Option 2: Just raise a regular army. Almost everyone is a flesh-covered skeleton anyways. The only thing standing between Omen and a skeleton army will be skinning a lot of people. — Boldness Check

Go to the Con afterparty with her;

----

Redemption:

Obtained through RNG. Later can be played by choosing "Visit A Museum" when you sit with her.

“Liam just triggered your class-clown jackpot. Introduce your hilarious disguise and watch chaos unfold!”

Option 1: “I'm the infamous Cock Doodler, scourge of street walls, master of phallic graffiti. All penises want me to immortalize them with my art!”

+2 Creativity, -2 Boldness

Option 2: “I'm the Grinch. Oh, you think the Grinch is silly? I might be known for stealing Christmas, but the crimes I commit the rest of the year are far more horrifying.”

+2 Boldness, -2 Creativity

---

“Guess it's your job to make this work. Convince the Coven to drop Liam as Omen's sponsor!”

Option 1: Claim that Liam has fleas and neither of you want to be anywhere near him.

+2 Charm, -2 Creativity

Option 2: Claim that Liam's talents are wasted on villain sponsorship. He needs that time to focus on his new passion: synchronized ice skating.

+2 Creativity, -2 Charm

---

“Not exactly the friendliest stranger you've ever met. Step in and show this Slayer that Omen's not (currently) a threat!”

Option 1: You want this Slayer to see Omen is good now. Announce that you're two dollars short for a sandwich, so Omen can prove that they're now a generous soul. — Charm Check

+2 Charm

Option 2: People set their differences aside when they have to team up against a common enemy. Ask them to help you with the very hard crossword you started this morning. — Smarts Check

+2 Smarts

Go to the Con afterparty with Omen;

[esquie]

i wanna talk about verso … and aline and maelle . and family. idk it’s rambling . SPOILERS!!!!! for act 2 and 3 and the end

so versos ending has him state that maelle is a painter and that she’s Maelle so she doesn’t have to suffer if she doesn’t want to. she’s capable of living a full life because of who she is

now verso loves his family more than anything. his sister, the painted alicia. his other sister the painted clea. his father the painted renoir. and his mother. aline.

maelle is distinctly not his family. they are half siblings at best but at this point he’s angry at maelle , their relationship is strained , and he’s made clear he’s using her for his own ends more than once. he was very content to let her suffer losing another brother so he could.. well, use her. he’s using maelle . this doesn’t mean he hates her he clearly sees alicia in her but he even prefers maelle as a name for her because… she’s not alicia. not to him

now . aline. the whole story is about him wanting to save her. he loves his mother. sees she’s suffering. wants to help her and save her. everything he does and every lie is for aline. he only jumps into the portal at the end because he sees aline suffering and wants to get to her. yes he also wants to die because he’s tired. but he also wants the canvas gone so she won’t jump in again and suffer more

now let’s think about aline as a mother … she loved verso but even he wasn’t the son she wanted - he wanted to play music for a crowd on stage because he enjoys it. she (and renoir) wanted another master painter. she doesn’t see alicia as a good painter, she disregards and discredits her work and looks down on her skills and abilities. clea is the perfect daughter but she’s emotionally estranged from her mother and father, she calls them by their names.

painted verso, our verso, was painted to know he’s not the right kind of artist. she made sure he knew that. she painted alicia with her scars and inability to talk as punishment for what happened to verso. she painted clea so different to the wrong thing clea painted over it, it insulted her.

but verso is still completely loyal to his mother. he chooses her over everyone, over painted alicia, maelle, painted renoir, (not painted clea simply because he thought she was long dead). aline painted him to prioritise her, because she was angry he prioritised alicia when he saved her and died for her. aline wants her baby boy to save her and die for her, instead. she painted verso to have mummy issues.

so now let’s look at versos ending again. he tells maelle she can live if she wants to, she has the skills of a painter, she’s Maelle, she can do anything. but he’s been painted to love his mother - which means he’s blind to her abuse. he’s blind to the fact that aline punished his sister, the painted alicia. he’s blind to the fact that maelle in the real world will still have a mother who blames her for versos death, and she will have to live with that mother who hates her.

versos ending suffers because we know she’s returning to a loveless home. that her sister is her bully, that renoir tries to keep everyone happy so he’d never truly protect her, and that her mother hates her. but verso doesn’t know this. his ending can’t be a true happy ending when we remember the family she’s returning to, devoid of her disability.

yes she will grow up and can escape but she’s 16, and there’s literally a war going on in the real world her family is deeply involved in.

anyway… my point is neither ending is good. they’re both grey. and i’m tired of people saying versos is the good ending and maelles is the bad. they both have pros and cons, and no one is right or wrong based on their preferred ending. it’s subjective , and i think that’s a big pro for the game as a whole. i want to feel complicated over the endings. i want it to be a hard choice. i want to wrestle with myself over my choice. and i did and i have and i clearly still do ! and that’s great. GOTY tbh

[lheslie]

Getting Married to Toji

Choosing the wedding Venue and Decorations with Toji is a hard thing to do.

You know for a fact that this man is color blind and doesn't like anything fancy.

You knew that, when you said yes to his proposal. So the person helping you decorate your wedding is your two kids.

Especially Tsumiki, since she's the only one who can understand you.

Toji didn't like the fact that you two had to be separated so it won't 'Jinx' the wedding.

He was kinda excited about seeing you in a wedding dress.

"Fuck those shit, I wanna see ya." Toji said as he was waiting in another waiting room while you try out dresses.

"Toji..." You sighed.

"Alright, make it fast I want this to end. I didn't know there were some kinds of fucking rituals to do before marriage." Toji grumbled as he faces the wall.

He watched the television while he waited for you to choose your dress and Tsumiki's dress.

He thought to himself, 'I'm gonna fucking kill who ever made this, no see the bride before wedding shit.'

When it was time for choosing their tuxedo you had to go to different shops, because none of their tuxedos can fit Toji, so his had to be custom made.

Toji had to endure days and hours just to choose a tuxedo.

"Fuck, Can't I just a shirt and pants to the wedding?" He complained.

"No." Tsumiki and Megumi both said

When Toji got married to Megumi's mom. He did it at the court, so it went fast as you can think of.

He knew, You, Tsumiki and Megumi would be happy so he can endure it, It's the least he can do.

On the wedding day, he hated the long wait, he didn't even see you the entire day.

Not only was he irritated, he was also a bit anxious on how this will go out.

"Fuck" He mutters as he punches the wall.

"Calm down Dad." Megumi said as he was sitting on a chair scrolling in his phone.

"How much longer?" Toji asks

Megumi looks at the clock and stands up.

"Now, let's go to the altar." He says as he opens the door for his Dad to go out.

Toji walks out and goes to stay at the altar.

'Once this shit ends I'm killing the man who made this tradition.' He thought as he saw the door opens.

As every groomsmen and bridesmaid comes in through those doors.

Tsumiki was walking with a beautiful dress accomapanied by a friend.

And for some reason Gojo was a flower girl throwing roses especially at Nanami.

And the very last, You.

You were slowly walking down the isle with your father in tears.

It felt like, the wait was worth it, everything was perfect. You were perfect. He watched as you were walking.

He wanted to pick you up and just bring you home.

He smiled as you walked to him, as the priest started to speak.

You spoke first on your speech, it made Toji melt, chest filled with happiness, sadness and content with you.

And when it was his next, he didn't know what to say.

"Y/N, for as long as I've existed. I never thought I'd ever find someone like you, you understood me, cared for me and loved ne unconditionally even though we both know who I was. I am happy that I have the honor to love and appreciate you for the rest of my life, and in death." He said

You were shocked at his words, tears falling from your eyes, as tears also fell from his eyes.

You both smiled at each other lovingly, you both felt love and safeness at each other's arms.

You were both lucky meeting each other.

*After the wedding*

"Dad, on your wedding speech. Where did you get it from?" Tsumiki asked.

"I also don't know, was kinda in the moment." He said as he was hugging you asleep on the couch.

"Yeah, it was almost like you were possessed by some kind of entity." Megumi added

"We should get you checked Dad." Tsumiki replied.

"Eh, Whatever." Toji replies

[stevenquartzcutiepieuniverse]

this wasn't supposed to happen

[ID / Pink Diamond is cradling a young adult Steven Universe. Steven is extremely pale and visibly exhausted with his face contorted in pain, tears welling in his eyes. Pink Diamond has her lips pressed to Steven's forehead in a kiss. She is also crying and visibly upset, devastated by her being back due to Steven's gem being separated from him. / End ID]

[mothedmanillustration]

happy father's day to the single dad who's trying his best! here's a bunch of sketches of alakshmi and abyssal together!

[zoennes]

[Zoë, can we talk? I want to explain what happened!]

[Okay, tomorrow?]

[Great! 11:30 at the Ferris wheel?]

[Works for me.]

[daxisyzz]

hiiii i hope you are well !!! i was wondering if you could maybe do a fic where the reader gets kidnapped and tortured by hydra on a mission or something, and after a while bucky and the team find her and save her but she’s so psychologically damaged that she’s scared of everyone? preferably lots and lots of protective and comforting bucky as he looks after her and he becomes the only person she’s comfortable with, all the angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending would be amazing!!! thanks 🩷

Heyyy!! Hope you're doing well too. Writing this fic made me cry so I hope it's what you expected. Sorry for answering late🙃

Only safe with you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, trauma recovery, Kidnapping, psychological torture (not graphic), PTSD, panic attacks, emotional vulnerability, mentions of touch aversion, recovery

Word count: 1.1k+

You didn’t scream when they took you.

That came later—when your voice cracked raw from begging the shadows for mercy, for death, for something other than the cold numbness pressing in around you like icewater under your skin. But in the beginning, there was only silence. The kind that hollows you out from the inside.

The kind that makes you forget your own name.

You had been captured by Hydra. A mission gone wrong. A corner turned too fast. A shot fired too late. And then it all disappeared beneath the haze of a needle and the slam of a steel door.

No one found you. Not for weeks.

And in that time, you stopped existing.

You curled in on yourself, starved and shaking, while voices you didn't recognize whispered in the dark, breaking you down with every calculated word. They told you you were abandoned. That no one was coming. That you were alone because you were unworthy of being loved.

They never needed to touch you.

They just watched you rot from the inside out.

When the team finally found you, you didn’t recognize them.

You heard the explosion first—the thunder of boots, the sharp bark of Bucky’s voice, the sound of someone screaming your name like it meant something.

But all you saw were more shadows.

You tried to crawl into the wall when they burst into your cell. Your fingernails broke against the concrete, your body instinctively folding into itself, your mouth whispering pleas in a language you didn’t know you remembered.

You didn’t know Bucky was crying until his tears hit your hands.

"Hey," he choked, dropping to his knees, blood on his knuckles and desperation in his eyes. "It’s me. It’s Bucky. I’m here, okay? I’ve got you. You’re safe."

But safety was a concept that no longer made sense to you.

When his hand brushed yours, you screamed.

You screamed like you were dying. Like you were on fire.

And something in Bucky broke that day.

The jet ride back was too bright. Too loud. You were swaddled in a blanket like a child, staring through people who whispered your name with eyes full of quiet sorrow. Natasha sat across from you, tense and silent, her hand clenched in her lap.

Steve paced quietly in the back, eyes heavy with guilt.

Tony said nothing, choosing instead to sit beside you in stillness.

They all felt the ache, but none knew how to hold it.

Because they saw the pieces of you, scattered and bloody, and none of them knew how to put you back together.

Except for Bucky.

He didn’t leave your side. Not once.

You wouldn’t let anyone else near you. The first time Bruce tried to assess your wounds, you had a panic attack so violent your lips turned blue.

But Bucky?

You let him stay.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t sleep. You didn’t see him. But he was there. Sitting on the floor, silent and patient, like he was trying to absorb your pain with every breath.

"You don’t have to talk," he whispered once, voice so low it made your ribs ache. "I’ll just be here. I’m not going anywhere."

And he wasn’t.

Not when you curled into corners, sobbing so hard you threw up.

Not when you tore your own skin in your sleep.

Not when you started to disappear into yourself again.

He stayed.

And the others watched, hurting in their own quiet ways.

Natasha lingered by your door some nights, pacing like she wanted to knock but couldn’t.

Steve brought books you didn’t read.

Tony made sure the lights never flickered in your room again.

They didn’t say much. They didn’t force anything. But they were there.

And Bucky? He just was.

Weeks passed.

You started whispering again. Small things. Words like "water" or "blanket" or "stay."

Always to Bucky.

Only to him.

He was the first person you let touch you again.

A pinky finger. Brushing yours. Barely there.

You sobbed when it happened. Clutched your chest like it hurt. Like it burned to feel something again.

Bucky didn’t cry. Not then.

But that night, Steve found him in the hallway outside your door, fists bruised and bloodied against the wall.

"I can’t lose her again," Bucky whispered, voice shattering. "I can’t."

Recovery wasn’t linear.

Some days you smiled.

Some days you screamed.

Some nights you let Bucky hold your hand.

Some nights you clawed at your own skin, begging him to make it stop.

And he did.

Not with force.

Not with words.

Just with presence.

He’d pull you into his lap, wrap his arms around your shaking body, press his lips to your temple and whisper, "You’re safe. You’re not alone. I’ve got you."

Until you believed him.

Even if only for a moment.

One night, you whispered, "Why did you stay?"

Bucky looked at you, moonlight catching the cracks in him that matched your own.

"Because you matter. Because you didn’t give up. Because you let me find you."

You blinked, tears spilling freely. "I don’t feel like a person anymore."

His voice broke. "Then let me remind you how to be one."

They say healing is like a mosaic, broken pieces coming together to form something beautiful.

You were still cracked. Still healing. Still learning how to exist in a body that had been turned into a prison.

But Bucky loved you through all of it.

With hands that never rushed.

With words that never demanded.

With a heart that only ever whispered, You are safe here.

And for the first time in months, maybe years—You believed him.

One Year Later

The morning sun slipped in through the curtains, painting your room in pale gold. The shadows that once clung to the walls had long since faded, replaced by quiet warmth and slow, steady breaths.

You sat curled on the couch, a book in your lap, half-forgotten, as Bucky entered with two steaming mugs in hand. He paused in the doorway, watching you with that soft look he reserved only for you—a kind of awe, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

"You’re staring," you said, voice lighter, steadier now.

He grinned. "Can you blame me?"

You set the book aside and took the mug he offered, your fingers brushing his without flinching. That tiny act still felt like magic sometimes.

You leaned into him when he sat beside you, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in without a word.

There were no more nightmares that week.

You’d started laughing again. Dancing in the kitchen. Humming in the shower.

You still had days where the world felt fragile, like it could crack open beneath your feet—but you no longer fell alone.

You looked up at Bucky, your eyes soft. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

His thumb brushed your cheek. "You saved yourself. I just got to love you through it."

And you did. Slowly, then all at once. Day by day, moment by moment, you let the light back in through him.

[iamthatonefangirl]

grumpy x sunshine but filthy smut where reader is just his wittle baby :( loves and does anything for her and she’s the same for bucky

baby - nsfw bucky barnes

this might be the softest smut I've ever written in my life. totally got away from me.

(lmk if you'd like to choose an emoji, I'd love to hear more from you 🤍)

~~~

you're wrapped up in his arms, the lights dimmed low. the soft, warm luminescence from the lamp makes you glow like an angel, he thinks.

you are an angel. you have to be, because how could you be real?

you are ethereal, a beam of joy and happiness for him in a world that is otherwise nothing but a void of endless nothingness and despair. you can do absolutely no wrong in his eyes; he'll defend and protect you until the day that he dies.

he's got you in his lap, wrapping his arms around your torso to keep you close. you dangle your arms over his shoulders, lazily wrapping them around his neck.

your foreheads are pressed softly together, the act so intimate and full of love it makes you feel like you’re one.

he's just barely moving you back and forth, keeping you oh so close to him while you moan lowly at the pressure of him buried inside you.

he breathes in your scent, just feeling the way you make his whole body soar with love and the surge of happiness that runs through him like a never-ending jolt of electricity.

~~~

when you met him, you were told to expect the worst. you were briefed that he doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't leave his apartment except for work, etc. you were mentally prepared for the antisocial homebody you had been forewarned about, but you weren't nervous. you would just be yourself and hope for the best.

but when you met him, he wasn't staring at you like everyone said he would. yes, he was staring at you, but not with the rage of a thousand suns like you anticipated. his eyes were wide open in... curiosity?

he was shy, but he shook your hand no problem.

internally, he was a wreck. he was melting just from seeing your smile, something that had never happened to him before. he was stunned into silence. sure, he never really made the effort to speak to anyone else anyways, but you?

how was he supposed to talk to a pretty girl like you?

he would only embarrass himself, or look like a pathetic loser, or maybe you had made your decision about him before you met him. maybe you already hated him, and he didn't even stand a chance.

he knew how his demeanor came off; he didn't care what people thought of him. ideally, they wouldn't perceive him at all. the dream life would be to work, stay in the shadows, and never have to speak to another soul again.

but you... god, you were just something else. he wanted to say more to you than he had, he wanted to prove to you that he was more than the angry, people-loathing person everyone else probably told you he was.

after your first meeting, he felt a fool. he blubbered and stuttered like an idiot, and Sam smacked his shoulder and chuckled as you walked away. he scowled at him and stalked off, as usual.

he was just a hateful person. no reason for you to think he could be more than that.

~~~

"you're so pretty, sweetheart," he whispers to you, taking in the sight in front of him. your eyes are shut so softly, relishing in the way he's making such gentle love to you. it's almost sickening how sweet the scene is.

he brings a flesh hand to your cheek, cradling your face in his palm. brings new meaning to "his whole world in the palm of his hand."

"oh, baby," you mumble to him, moving your hips against him a little, neediness taking over your mind. "Bucky, baby, my baby..."

"come on," he whispers. with your eyes closed, you don't see the way his face pinks up. "I'm not a baby. you are my baby," he says, adjusting his grip on you, keeping his hands pressed against your soft skin. his fingertips dip into your flesh ever so softly, making sure not to hurt you. he'd go to the ends of the earth to protect you, rip out anyone's spine for you...

"but you are my baby," you whisper back to him, eyes still shut. your voice is a soft whine as you slowly move back and forth. "you’re my baby, Bucky. my baby, my Bucky, all mine..."

your words send him into a spiral. him? your baby? he's fucked.

"would... would you say it again?" he says, so low in the back of his throat, the words are barely audible.

"you're my baby," you repeat, and he somehow pulls you even closer, as if you're not already as close together as humanly possible.

"and you’re mine, sweetheart,” he tells you as he begins to move you both, still keeping you pressed tightly against him as he lays you on your back and begins to move his hips between yours so slowly and perfectly. “god, I love you,” he breathes.

you let out a soft little cry. "shh, pretty baby, I'm here," he says to you, his tone just a little higher, the way it shifts only around you. "you know I'm here. I'll always be here. just let me take care of you, my baby.”

~~~

every time you spoke to him him after your initial meeting, he felt like his entire reality was warped. time seemed to speed up, moving way too fast whenever he got the chance to speak to you. it was never enough time.

he found himself smiling, even blushing around you. everyone else was shocked, wondering if the man was on drugs or something with the way he seemed to perk up around you.

but no, no drugs.

you lit up something in his soul that he didn't know was possible.

no matter how scared he was, how convinced he was that you were going to say no, he knew he cared too much about you to not make the effort. he was so deeply in love with you to not ask you.

and if you said no, he would deal with it the same way he dealt with everything else: by pretending he didn't care and falling deeper into his hatred for the world.

lucky for the both of you, when he asked you out, you said "yes!" with a vibrant smile and a small spring in your step. he thought he would never be happier than he was in that moment.

oh, but he was wrong. that moment when he got down on one knee, and saw the way your face lit up in pure delight and excitement as you exclaimed, "yes, yes, yes!" over and over again?

that was the happiest moment of his life.

~~~

he reaches down to where your hands are now interlaced, running his fingers over the metal band on your ring finger. he proceeds to bring your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles, to the permanent mark he's now left on your skin, forever.

a beautiful diamond for the most beautiful girl in the world.

having you, here, under him. it's the biggest privilege of his life to call you his, and he's going to spend the rest of his life trying to prove that he deserves to have you.

"you feelin' good, baby?" he whispers to you, cupping your face in his hand once more. "tell me what you need. anything at all, it's yours."

you shake your head. "it's perfect, baby..." you whine, lifting your hips to meet his.

"you ready for me to make you come, baby?" he asks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"yes, please, James," you ask him, and he brings his lips to your neck.

"no need for pleas, baby, I'm gonna give you everything you want for the rest of our lives."

he moves your legs to wrap around his waist and kisses your neck up to your jaw, doubling down on his efforts as he fucks you so sweetly.

"that's my girl. my baby, my fiance," he whispers as though he's speaking to himself. "you're doing so well, babydoll. come for me."

your legs tighten around his waist, trapping his hips against yours as you bear down and reach your release with a cry of his name.

"so beautiful, that's it, baby," he whispers, holding you through it.

"I love you, James," you whisper as you find your breath again.

"oh, baby, you'll never know how much I love you. how much you've changed my life for the better. how afraid I am of the feelings I have for you... and how I'd rather die than run away from the feeling, no matter how much it scares me."

your eyes well up with tears of joy, and he wipes them away with a soft brush of his thumb.

"I'm yours, forever, babydoll," he whispers, and leans in to kiss you like the world depends on it.

because it does. you are his world.

~~~

who am I and what have I done with horny bri. I guess I'm a softie now

masterlist

join my tag list

bucky tag list:

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @mandoloriancookie @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22 @yvespecially

[cutelikeharry]

After Credits. Janitor Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader Smut, 18+

Summary: Every Friday night, she escapes the stress of her senior year of college by unwinding at the movies. There, she meets Levi, an attractive janitor who isn’t happy with her habit of staying after the credits roll. But after an argument, their tension snaps, and she discovers that cleaning isn’t the only thing he’s good at.

☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

She had found herself at the cinema again. As a senior in uni, the stress of her final year was overwhelming, and Friday nights had become her personal tradition, the one time she could disconnect from the pressures of university life. It was her thing. Taking a break from her hectic schedule to enjoy the quiet solitude that only a cinema could offer. As an undergrad, she didn’t have much time to go out, but movies… movies were her escape.

She had started visiting the local cinema more often, choosing films based on what seemed interesting at the time, usually romance. She usually took the very last showings of the night, when the cinema was emptier and the darkened theater felt like her own little world.

Tonight was no different. She’d picked a romantic movie, nothing too special, but it had kept her entertained. The movie ended, the credits rolled, and the theater started emptying. People got up and left, chatting with friends or heading out, but she stayed in her seat, like always.

She had a habit of waiting until the very end. Some movies, especially the ones that were a little more mainstream, sometimes had extra scenes after the credits. She didn’t want to miss that, so she stayed seated, finishing off the last of her popcorn and waiting for any hidden surprises.

When the last of the people walked out, the theater went quiet. She looked around at the empty seats, then turned back to the screen. The soundtrack music from the movie, as the credits rolled, was the only sound. She was alone now, but she didn’t mind. This was her moment of peace.

That’s when she saw him.

A familiar figure appeared at the theater entrance. A man in his thirties carrying a broom, with a cart full of cleaning supplies beside him.

She knew him by now, if only in passing. She’d always be the last to leave, lingering for after-credit scenes, and he was always the one waiting, clearly annoyed by her habit. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes landing on her before he rolled them with his usual annoyance. 

She was caught off guard but didn’t let it show. She just kept eating her popcorn, ignoring him as he started sweeping up the mess from the theater. He went around picking up trash, moving up the rows. 

She had seen him before, but she never paid much attention to him until now. She noticed he was... attractive. His sharp features, the dark hair swept up in an undercut that looked a little too stylish for a janitor, and the slight shadow of dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t gotten much sleep in a while. 

Well, then again, it was past midnight, and he still had to clean up everyone’s mess, so it was understandable.

The light blue uniform stretched over his toned arms, his muscles flexing with each motion. His hands looked strong, veins visible, and she found herself watching him longer than she meant to.

He finished sweeping the lower rows and then headed up the aisle, skipping past a few rows before stopping directly at hers. She stayed seated, but she felt his presence as he walked toward her, stopping right next to her. She looked up at him, confused, wondering what he wanted.  

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to ignore him, but it was hard. His eyes remained on her. Her attention instinctively darted back towards the screen, trying to focus on the credits, but every time she glanced back, she found his eyes still fixed on her. His expression was unreadable, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. She didn’t know what he wanted. Had she done something wrong?

Her eyes caught a small card hanging from around his neck. ‘A name tag’, she realized.

‘Levi Ackerman.’

“You’re still here?” Levi asked, clearly annoyed. His voice was low, a little tired.

She blinked, unsure how to respond to his comment. “Yeah… I’m waiting for the after-credits.”

He glanced shortly at the rolling credits, then back at her, his expression flat. "It's a romance movie. They don't do after-credits for this kind of thing."

She raised an eyebrow as she kept eating her popcorn. “You don’t know that. Maybe they do. Maybe there’s a surprise.”

Levi rolled his eyes before once again glancing at the screen. The credits were almost finished, the final names scrolling by, and she held her breath, hoping for more. But there was nothing. The screen turned off completely.

Her face dropped slightly, feeling a bit disappointed. She had been hoping for something, even though she knew deep down it was unlikely.

“See? No after-credits. Now, get out.”

She frowned, standing up, her hand gripping the bucket of popcorn a little tighter. “Hey, no need to be rude. I just wanted to see if there was something left. After-credits can be just as important as the movie, you know?”

Levi's expression didn’t soften. “You know, it’s Friday night, right? Most people go out and hang out with friends. Not sit here alone waiting for the credits to end.”

She felt her irritation rising. She wasn’t sure why he was being so condescending, but it was getting under her skin. “Maybe I like the quiet,” she shot back.

Levi didn’t seem to care much. He just gave a small shrug. “Whatever. Just take your popcorn and leave. I’ve got another theater to deal with before I can leave.”

She clenched her jaw, annoyed by the way he dismissed her. She didn’t want to leave just because he told her to, but what could she do? She was already standing.

She took the popcorn bucket and walked down the stairs, heading for the exit. Before she left, she turned to glance back at him. He was already back to cleaning, his broom moving over the floor, barely paying her any mind.

She stormed out of the theater, fists tight. His attitude pissed her off. He was a total jerk. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about his stupidly handsome face.

As the week went on and she attended her lectures, she couldn't shake him from her thoughts. She was angry with herself for not speaking up when he made those rude remarks, but she couldn't deny the way his light blue uniform clung to his muscular frame as he swept the theater. Her mind kept replaying images of him, making it impossible for her to concentrate on the lecture in front of her.

‘He's not even that good looking.’ she repeated, trying to convince herself that he was just another ordinary guy. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Every time she tried to brush it off, something about him kept pulling her back. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but it lingered in her mind, pulling her in despite her best efforts to ignore it.

‘Focus. You’re here to learn, not fantasize about some janitor.’ She’d shake her head, but still, the image of him would linger. She’d catch herself daydreaming, completely losing track of the professor’s words as she pictured him. 

Levi Ackerman, his name still fresh in her mind. 

By the time the next Friday rolled around, she had already decided it was time to escape again. 

Her weekly trip to the cinema had become a need. The place where she could leave her distractions behind. 

As she walked up to the ticket counter, she glanced at the list of movies showing. She’d seen them all except for one. 

It was a romance movie, but not like the ones she usually went for. This one had a big, bold "18+" slapped on it. She’d heard the rumors about this movie. Mostly graphic, erotic scenes. 

She hesitated, unsure. She wasn’t typically into movies that were this explicit, but something about the idea of watching it nagged at her. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe she was just looking for something different.

She shrugged, deciding to buy a ticket anyway. ‘One time won’t hurt,’ she thought, not really believing the excuse herself. She bought her popcorn and drink, then made her way towards the theater.

The theater was half empty as usual, and she picked her usual seat in the back row. She preferred it there. The middle rows were always too crowded, and the back gave her the space to settle in without distractions. She popped some popcorn into her mouth and sat down, waiting for the commercials to finish and the movie to start.

The movie wasn’t anything special at first. Just a young couple falling in love, the kind of story that was predictable, but still heartwarming. But as the film went on, it started pushing past what she’d expected, with scenes that felt... different. Graphic. Intimate. 

Her face heated up at certain moments. Scenes that felt way too graphic to be on the big screen. She shifted in her seat, trying to keep her focus on the screen, but it was hard. The scenes were almost uncomfortable to watch, not because they were poorly done, but because they felt too real. 

She didn’t know if she was more embarrassed by what was happening on screen or the fact that she was watching it by herself.

She couldn’t help but wonder. Would that Levi guy ever watch a movie like this? The thought made her stomach twist. It was strange, but she couldn’t shake the image of him in her mind, now mixing with the images on the screen. ‘God! What am I thinking?’ she scolded herself, trying to shake off the thoughts that were slowly creeping in.

As soon as the movie ended, she made a quick decision. She wasn’t about to stick around for another awkward run-in with Levi. She didn’t need to hear his comments about her watching that type of movie by herself on a Friday night. 

Her face was still flushed from the scenes she’d just watched, and the last thing she needed was him making some comment about her choice in media. Besides, she was almost sure there would be no after-credit scenes in this one.

As the credits rolled and the lights turned back on, people started gathering their things and heading towards the exits. She quickly stood up, grabbed her popcorn and drink, and without looking back, hurried down, weaving through the small crowd and skipping a few steps as she went.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into the hallway, her pace quickening as she made her way towards the exit. But as she rounded a corner, her elbow brushed against someone, and in an instant, her drink spilled across her white t-shirt. She cursed under her breath as the cold liquid soaked through the fabric, splashing onto the floor and sending popcorn tumbling everywhere.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” she blurted out, rushing to pick up the fallen paper cup and popcorn bucket. The mess was overwhelming. Most of the drink had already soaked into her shirt, leaving her feeling embarrassed as she frantically tried to clean up.

And then, she looked up. Standing there, watching her, was Levi.

She froze. She was still kneeling on the floor, her cheeks burning. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected to run into him again. Let alone like this. He looked a little taken aback, his expression unreadable, as he took in the scene. She could feel her face heating up even more, but she didn’t say anything. Her mouth felt dry, and she could feel the awkwardness wrapping around her, suffocating her.

As she stood up, she noticed Levi’s eyes flicker downward for a split second, widening just slightly before he looked away. It was subtle, but she caught it.

Then she realized why. The spilled drink had soaked through her shirt, and under the bright lights, her white t-shirt had turned slightly see-through, leaving little to the imagination. 

Her stomach dropped, and her face flushed intensely. She quickly pulled her jacket closed, covering herself as best she could. 

“I—I’ll just—uh, sorry,” she mumbled before she quickly turned and headed towards the bathroom. 

The bathroom was empty, as expected for this time at night. The cinema was practically deserted by now. She took her jacket off, then pulled off her shirt, trying not to think about the mess she’d just caused, leaving her in just her bra. 

She leaned over the sink, trying to scrub away the large stain from the spilled drink. The water splashed around, but the stain didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. 

She glanced up, her eyes landing on a small vending machine inside the bathroom, stocked with painkillers, tampons, and condoms. She raised an eyebrow, wondering to herself, ‘Do people actually do it in here?’

As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t ignore the redness in her cheeks. Her face was still burning, and she found herself thinking about what had just happened.

‘He probably has to clean it up,’ she thought, her stomach twisting. He was probably furious. She felt guilty, even though she knew it was an accident. 

But then, her thoughts shifted once again. ‘Why the hell do I keep thinking about him?!’ she thought frustrated, trying to focus on getting the stain out of her shirt.

Her breath caught as the thought of him mixed with scenes from the movie she’d just watched. It felt like everything was colliding all at once. The way he looked at her, and the intimate scenes she’d just seen on screen. She could feel her heartbeat quicken as her mind wandered, the images of Levi and the movie blending together in her thoughts, with herself somehow caught in the middle.

‘Gosh. What’s wrong with you?’ she scolded herself, gripping the edge of the sink.

The heat between her legs grew more intense as she imagined him standing over her, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. She pictured the sensation of his lips against her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his hand slipping under her shirt. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have him inside of her, his thick cock pushing deep inside of her.

Her breath quickened as her fingers instinctively brushed against the dampness of her panties beneath her skirt. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she gently rubbed herself through the thin fabric, her mind still filled with thoughts of Levi. She could almost feel his touch against her body. Her fingers moved in slow circles, sending waves of pleasure through her core.

She leaned against the bathroom counter, her legs trembling slightly as she continued to touch herself. Her free hand gripped the edge of the sink tightly as she increased the pressure and speed of her movements. Soft whimpers echoed in the empty bathroom as she neared her peak.

Suddenly, the sound of voices in the hallway snapped her back to reality. Her eyes flew open as she yanked her hand away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. What was she doing? This was a public bathroom in a movie theater!

She shook her head, trying to bring herself back to reality. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her mind and wash away the lingering embarrassment and confusion. 

After scrubbing the last traces of the drink out of her shirt, she wrung the fabric out as best as she could. The shirt was still damp and a little cold against her skin as she put it back on, but at least it was clean. 

She slipped on her jacket and took one last look in the mirror, noticing that while her face was still flushed, but it was nowhere near the tomato-red shade it had been moments before.

She took a deep breath and opened the door of the bathroom, peeking out and glancing around to make sure Levi wasn’t lurking nearby.

Relieved to find the hallway empty, she slipped out and headed towards the exit, hoping to put this entire night behind her. But as she neared the main lobby, she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket, only to feel nothing. 

Her phone wasn’t there.

She froze mid-step, her eyes widening as she patted down her other pockets, searching. But it was no use. A sinking feeling hit her as she realized she must have left it back in the theater.

She sighed sharply as she retraced her steps in her mind. Of all nights, why tonight? She brushed her hands over her jacket one last time, then took a deep breath, accepting she’d have to go back and get it. 

Swallowing her frustration, she turned around and began the walk back towards the theater room, hoping she could just grab her phone, and get out without another awkward encounter.

She slipped back into the theater, relieved to find it empty. No Levi. Perfect. She hurried up the stairs, heading straight to her seat at the top row, scanning the floor as she approached. 

She leaned down, checking under the seat, then behind it, but her phone was nowhere to be found. Frustration started to bubble up just as she heard a voice from below.

“Forgot something?”

She froze, the annoyance hitting her instantly as she recognized that voice. With a sigh, she squinted in irritation and slowly turned around, spotting Levi at the bottom row, holding up her phone between his fingers. 

He didn’t even seem annoyed that he’d probably had to clean up her mess just a few minutes ago. He just stood there, as deadpan as ever.

She exhaled sharply, walking down the stairs to meet him. Levi watched her approach, and just as she was close enough, he tossed her phone up. 

She caught it with ease, pressing her lips together in a tight, annoyed smile as she raised her eyebrows, holding up the phone in acknowledgment. “Thanks,” she said, turning quickly to leave, hoping this would be the end of it.

But of course, Levi couldn’t resist.

“Interesting choice of film for a Friday night,” he commented dryly.

She stopped in her tracks. Really? She turned back around, rolling her eyes slightly as she tried to think of a response. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a girl enjoying… you know… erotica,” she replied, her voice coming out a bit more awkwardly than intended. 

She mentally cringed, hating that he was making her explain herself.

“If you say so.” He said unimpressed. "Must be desperate for excitement if that’s what you’re doing by yourself on a Friday night."

Her cheeks burned, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word this time. “Not everyone watches these movies just for the scenes, you know,” she added defiantly, raising an eyebrow.

Levi paused, then looked at her with a skeptical tilt of his head, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, please. You’re not about to tell me you watched this movie for the plot.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe I did,” she said, though her voice wavered a little, clearly not convincing him.

He scoffed, stepping a bit closer. “Sure. Bet you were on the edge of your seat, real invested in their deep, meaningful conversations, right?”

Her mouth opened, then shut again as she struggled for a comeback. “Some of us appreciate storytelling,” she stuttered with as much dignity as she could muster, though the faint smirk in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying a word of it.

“Right,” he replied, deadpan. “Nothing says quality storytelling like an R-rated romance movie.”

She clenched her jaw slightly, both embarrassed and annoyed. “I just wanted to experiment with something new,” she replied, crossing her arms defensively.

“Could always try meeting real people for that.” He turned away, picking up his broom to continue his work, leaving her feeling even more flustered. 

She held her ground, arms crossed, eyeing him with a smirk that dared him to react. “Says the guy who probably hasn’t even been with a woman before.”

Levi paused mid-sweep, a faint chuckle escaping as he glanced at her over his shoulder. But he didn’t get defensive. He looked almost amused. “If that’s what you think,” he replied, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he returned to his work.

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she crossed her arms a bit tighter. ‘Oh,’ she thought, her heart beating a little faster. 

Most men would get flustered or defensive at comments like that, but him? He just looked back at her, calm and unfazed. Somehow, his confidence only made him more attractive.

She took a step closer, unable to stop herself. She found herself drawn in by the tension building between them. “Really?" she challenged again playfully. “And just how many women have you been with, Mr. Janitor?”

Levi turned fully towards her. His eyes swept over her from head to toe, lingering just a bit longer than necessary before replying, making her pulse quicken.

He set the broom aside and leaned casually against the wall. "Enough to know what I'm doing," he said. 

Her pulse quickened, but she refused to back down. She held his stare, stepping even closer. "Is that so?" she murmured. 

Levi smirked, noticing how close she stood as he looked at her, her cleavage pressing against his chest. His eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What? You don’t believe me?”

Her heart raced as she met his eyes, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. Her breath quickened, but her eyes remained teasing. She stepped a fraction closer, her fingers sliding slowly up the back of his neck, her fingers into his undercut. She leaned closer, pulling him in just a little, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Maybe I need some…proof.” 

Levi’s hand shot out before she could react, his fingers threading through the back of her hair with a harsh grip, yanking her head back. The sudden force caught her off guard, and before she could protest, his lips crashed against hers. Rough, urgent, and without hesitation. 

Levi’s other hand gripped her waist as he pulled her closer, his hold tightening. His fingers dug deeper into her hair, pulling her even further into the kiss, the pressure making her breath catch in her throat.

“You want proof?” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough. “You’re getting more than that.”

Her pulse quickened as her surroundings came rushing back. She glanced around, remembering they were in a movie theater. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face as she pulled back slightly, just enough to catch her breath.

“What if someone sees us?” she whispered, the thrill of the moment mixing with the risk, making her heart pound harder.

Levi closed the space between them again, his mouth brushing hers as he spoke, “No one will. The place’s closed by now. They lock up after the last show,” he murmured. 

Levi's hands slid down to her hips, gripping them firmly. His lips trailed hot kisses along her jawline and down her neck, earning a soft moan from her. 

Without warning, Levi's hands moved lower, squeezing her ass possessively. She gasped at the bold move, her body tensing briefly before melting into his touch. His strong fingers kneaded the soft flesh, pulling her even closer against him. 

Levi lifted her right leg, hooking it around his waist. The new position pressed their bodies together intimately, and her breath caught as she felt the hard bulge throbbing against her center. Even through layers of clothing, the heat radiating between them was intense. Her breath hitched as Levi ground his hips against her, the friction sending pleasure through her core. His hands gripped her other thigh, lifting her up and pressing her back against the wall. 

Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he pinned her there. His mouth found her neck again. He sucked gently on her skin before trailing open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone. She tilted her head back, giving him better access as soft moans escaped her lips.

“Levi…,” she moaned.

Levi's hands slid under her jacket, his calloused fingers tracing gentle patterns on the bare skin of her back, sending a shiver down her spine. In one swift motion, he slipped the jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

She shivered, her heart racing as she felt his warm breath against her skin. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted him, how much she needed him. “I want you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

Levi’s smirk lingered as he slowly lowered her back down to the floor, his hands steady on her waist. His breath was hot against her lips before he leaned in again, capturing her mouth in a deeper, more possessive kiss. His tongue brushed softly against hers, drawing her in until she melted against him, her fingers curling into his shirt as the intensity between them grew.

She pulled away from the kiss, her heart racing as she looked up at him. Without a word, she slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her fingers trailing down his chest and abdomen as she went. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles as her hands explored.

She reached for his belt. The metal felt cold against her skin as she struggled to unfasten it, overcome with excitement. After a few moments, she finally managed to undo it, the sound of metal clinking.

Her breath quickened as she tugged at his zipper, pulling it down quickly. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants, her knuckles brushing against his lower abdomen before she slowly pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight of him, thick and fully erect. She glanced up at him through her lashes, her cheeks flushed. 

Levi's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her closer. She parted her lips, her tongue teasingly darting out to lick the tip. She heard Levi's sharp intake of breath and felt emboldened. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head as she began to bob up and down his erection.

Levi groaned softly, his fingers tightening in her hair. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. 

She hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper. She could feel him hitting the back of her throat as she moved, her tongue swirling around him. Levi's grip on her hair tightened, guiding her movements.

"That's it," he murmured with desire. "Take it all."

She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes watering slightly. The sight of her lips wrapped around him, her eyes locked on his, sent a jolt of pleasure through Levi's body. He thrust his hips forward, pushing himself further into her mouth.

Her hands gripped his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingers. She quickened her pace, her head bobbing faster as she sucked him harder.

Levi's breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as he neared his peak. "I'm close," he warned, his voice strained.

She locked eyes with him, maintaining eye contact as she took him as deep as she could. Her throat relaxed, allowing him to slide further in. She swallowed around him, the muscles of her throat contracting.

Levi groaned deeply, his hips jerking forward. "Fuck, I'm gonna—" 

He didn’t finish his sentence before she felt his hand on the back of her head, drawing her closer. The warm liquid hit the back of her throat. She swallowed quickly, her eyes watering slightly as she took everything he gave her. 

As the last pulses lingered, Levi gently pulled out of her mouth. He looked down at her, wiping away the bit of saliva spilling from her mouth with his thumb. 

Levi pulled her to her feet, his eyes roaming over her flushed face. Without warning, he spun her around and pushed her against the wall. His hands slid up her thighs, bunching her skirt around her waist. 

"Spread your legs," he commanded.

She obeyed, her heart pounding. Levi's fingers traced teasing patterns along her inner thighs, inching higher but not quite touching where she desperately wanted him.

"Please," she whimpered, pressing her hips back against him.

Levi chuckled darkly. "Patience," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe. His fingers finally slipped through her damp panties, sliding between her folds.

She gasped as he began stroking her, his fingers circling her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance.

"So wet already," Levi murmured in her ear. "Is this what you wanted when you came to watch that movie? To be touched like this?"

She could only whimper in response as Levi slid two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that perfect spot. Her hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more friction.

Levi's other hand slid up to cup her breast through her shirt, beneath her bra, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. She arched into his touch, soft moans escaping her lips.

His fingers pumped in and out of her at a steady pace, his thumb circling her clit. The sensation had her trembling against him, her legs shaking as the pleasure built within her core.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as Levi continued to work his fingers inside her. Levi's breath was hot against her neck, his chest pressed firmly against her back as he held her in place.

With a low groan, Levi slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving her whimpering at the loss. But before she could protest, he spun her around to face him, crashing his lips against hers in a desperate kiss.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed herself against him. Levi's hands roamed her body, one tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip. His tongue swept into her mouth as their kiss deepened. 

Levi forcefully pulled her closer, their tongues tangled in a heated kiss. He pushed her onto one of the front-row seats, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he knelt before her, making sure she couldn't escape his grasp as their lips remained locked in passion.

His hand slid under her shirt, his fingers tracing along her spine as they traveled upward. She shivered, her breath hitching as he found her bra strap, his fingers pausing just briefly before unhooking it with ease. She slid the bra straps down her shoulders and tugged it free, tossing it to the floor beside them. 

Levi pulled back, his hands slid under the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly. The fabric bunched and gathered, rising up just enough to reveal her bare chest, but he stopped before taking it off completely. He paused briefly, admiring the sight before him, and then lowered his head to take one of her nipples between his lips, his tongue gently sucking and circling around it.

Levi’s other hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of her panties under her skirt. He glanced up at her, a silent question in his eyes. She nodded, breath quickening. With a slight smile, he eased her panties down, sliding them off before spreading her legs open, revealing her pussy to him.

Her heavy breathing filled the air as she felt the cool air brush against her sensitive skin. Levi looked up at her, his eyes filled with lust. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling her skin as he kissed her inner thigh. She shivered, her body trembling with anticipation. She could feel his tongue tracing a line up her thigh, closer and closer to her entrance. Her breathing got heavier, her fingers gripping the seat as she felt his tongue brush against her.

His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open as he explored her folds with his tongue. She gasped as Levi's tongue flicked against her clit. He started slow, teasing licks that had her squirming.

"Oh god—," she moaned, her head falling back against the seat.

Levi's tongue circled her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance. He lapped at her wetness, savoring her taste as her hips bucked against his face. 

Her fingers tangled in Levi's hair, tugging lightly as pleasure coursed through her. He groaned against her, the vibrations sending sparks through her core. His tongue plunged inside her, fucking her as his nose rubbed against her clit.

"Ah, Levi," she gasped, her hips grinding against his face as waves of pleasure washed over her. His tongue worked expertly, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks against her most sensitive spots.

Levi's body tensed as he watched her gentle whimpers turn into desperate moans. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and his own arousal was hard to ignore. With each movement and breath, she stirred something within him. His cock throbbed in response, and he struggled to resist the urge to take her right then and there.

Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the tension building within her. Levi sensed her approaching climax and increased his efforts, his tongue circling her clit faster as he slid two fingers inside her. He curled them upwards, stroking that perfect spot inside her as his mouth continued to work on her clit. 

"Oh god, I'm gonna—" she cried out, her back arching as her orgasm hit her hard. Her body shook with the intensity of it, waves of pleasure radiating outwards from her core. Levi didn't let up, his fingers and tongue working her through every aftershock until she collapsed. 

Her body trembled as the waves of pleasure slowly went down. Levi pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at her with dark, hungry eyes. She was still catching her breath, eyes closed, chest rising and falling, when he stood and sat down in the seat beside her.

The distinct sound of a wrapper caught her attention, snapping her eyes open. She turned to see Levi pulling out a condom. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled it onto his already erect cock. A sharp pang of jealousy shot through her as she desperately tried to ignore the thought of him using this same routine with other girls at the movies.

She gasped, caught off guard as Levi suddenly lifted her and pulled her towards him, his hands firm on her waist. In one fluid, swift motion, he had her straddling his lap, her knees resting on either side of his legs, and her chest pressed close against his, her arms instinctively finding their way to the top of his shoulders. The unexpected intimacy left her breathless, her heart pounding as she met his intense stare. 

"You sure about this?" Levi asked. 

She nodded eagerly as she felt the head of his cock brush against her wet entrance, teasing her. "Yes, please," she breathed.

She gasped as Levi slowly guided her hips down, his thick cock stretching her as he entered her. She gripped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin as she adjusted to his size. Levi groaned softly, his hands on her waist as he helped her sink down onto him inch by inch.

"Fuck, you're tight," Levi muttered, his voice strained.

She whimpered as she finally took him all the way inside her. She paused for a moment, panting softly as she got used to the feeling of fullness. Levi's hands roamed her body, caressing her sides and back as he waited patiently for her to be ready.

After a few breaths, she began to move, rolling her hips experimentally. She slowly lifted herself, then sank back down onto Levi's cock. She started moving up and down in a gentle rhythm, enjoying every second of the feeling of him stretching and filling her with each thrust. Levi's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust up to meet her.

"God, you feel amazing," she gasped, her head falling back as pleasure coursed through her.

Levi leaned closer, pressing his face into her bouncing breasts. He kissed a path down her cleavage before taking one into his mouth and sucking eagerly, leaving behind small red marks that would surely be visible later. His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer as their pace quickened.

Her moans grew louder as Levi hit deeper inside her. She clung to him tightly, her nails digging into his back as the pleasure built. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty theater, mixing with their heavy breathing and gasps of pleasure.

Levi's hands gripped her ass, guiding her movements as he thrust up into her. He could feel her walls clenching around him, drawing him in deeper with each roll of her hips.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Levi groaned in her ear.

She whimpered in response, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased her release. She moved hard against him, feeling the friction of his cock hitting all the right spots inside her.

Levi sensed her growing desperation and suddenly gripped her hips, stilling her movements. Before she could protest, Levi lifted her off him and spun her around. 

"Bend over," he commanded.

Her heart raced as she obeyed, leaning forward and gripping the seat in front of her. She felt exposed and vulnerable in this position, but the thrill of it sent shivers down her spine.

Levi's hands roamed over her ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He spread her cheeks, exposing her wet pussy to him. She gasped as she felt the head of his cock teasing her entrance once again. Without warning, Levi thrust forward, filling her completely once again.

She gasped at the sudden fullness, her fingers gripping the seat tighter as Levi began to move. He started with slow, deep thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through her body, making her gasp loudly.

Levi's hands gripped her hips, steadying her as he lifted her right leg and hooked it over his shoulder, turning her onto her side, as she clung to the backrest of the seat for support. She gasped loudly as Levi slid back inside her, pumping in and out of her in the new angle allowing him to penetrate even deeper than before.

"Ah! Fuck—," she moaned, her voice trembling. 

The position left her exposed, her leg held high as Levi's hand roamed her body. His fingers trailed along her inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin before sliding up to cup her breast. She arched into his touch, her head falling back against his shoulder as pleasure coursed through her.

"Mmmph!” She bit her lower lip hard, trying to restrain her cries of ecstasy. She could feel him hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. Her body trembled, growing weak from the intense pleasure as her back arched and her head leaned against the backrest.

Encouraged by her reaction, Levi angled his hips to hit that spot repeatedly. His thrusts became harder and faster, driving her closer to the edge with each movement. She could feel herself getting close, that familiar tension building in her lower abdomen. 

"Oh god, Levi," she gasped, her voice breathy and desperate. "Don't stop. I'm so close."

Levi’s grip on her hip tightened as he continued his relentless pace. 

"You want more?" Levi asked with a smirk.

"Yes," she whimpered. "Please, I need more."

Levi's fingers found her clit, tracing circles around it in time with his thrusts. Her body trembled as Levi's fingers focused on her clit. The dual sensations of his cock hitting deep inside her and his fingers on her most sensitive spot quickly pushed her towards the edge. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as the pressure built.

"Oh god, oh god," she chanted, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna—"

Her words cut off in a loud cry as her orgasm crashed over her. Her entire body contracting with release, her back arching as the pleasure radiated through her. Her cunt clenched around Levi's cock, drawing him in deeper.

Levi groaned at the feeling of her pulsing around him. He lowered her leg back to the floor before he continued thrusting through her climax, prolonging her pleasure. His movements became more erratic as he neared his own release. 

Her body trembled as the aftershocks of her peak rippled through her. Levi's breathing became ragged as he chased his own release. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust.

"Fuck, I'm close," Levi groaned, his voice strained.

She gasped as she pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts as she felt him swell inside her. Levi let out a final, deep thrust and buried himself completely as he reached his climax. He let out a deep, raspy moan as he came, his hips jerking against her as he filled the condom.

For a moment, they stayed still, both panting heavily as they came down from their highs. Slowly, Levi’s grip on her relaxed and he slowly pulled out, causing her to whimper softly at the loss. He carefully removed the condom, tying it off and setting it aside to dispose of later.

She sat up properly in her seat, pulling her shirt down and fixing her skirt, just as Levi pulled up his pants before sitting beside her. They both sat quietly, their breathing slowly going back to normal.

She could feel the heat from Levi's body next to hers. Her skin felt warm and damp with sweat.

She ran a hand through her messy hair, trying to smooth it down.

Levi leaned his head back against the seat. She glanced over at him, taking in his profile in the dim light. She felt unsure what to say or do now that the heat of the moment had passed.

After a few moments of silence, Levi turned his head slightly, his expression was unreadable as ever. He looked directly at her eyes and she felt her face heating up, suddenly shy in the aftermath of their encounter. 

"So...that happened," she murmured.

Levi exhaled quietly, a faint hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "Not something you usually do on a Friday night, I assume." His tone was as dry as usual, but there was a hint of warmth underneath.

She laughed awkwardly, shaking her head. "Yeah. Definitely not. This was...unexpected."

"Beats watching those cheesy romance movies alone, doesn't it?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling."Some of those movies have their charms."

"Sure they do," Levi replied dryly. 

They fell into silence again, but it felt more comfortable now. Her mind was racing, trying to process everything that had just happened. Part of her couldn't believe she'd just had sex with the grumpy janitor in an empty movie theater. Another part of her was already wondering if it would happen again.

"What about you? Is this... a regular thing for you?" She asked.

Levi's expression remained neutral. "Fucking strangers in the theater? Can't say it is." He said looking up at the ceiling.

She bit her lip, hesitating before speaking again. "I'm Y/N, by the way… In case you were wondering who you just… you know."

"Levi," he replied, even though she had just moaned his name a few moments ago.

"So..." she started hesitantly. "Do you make a habit of this? Hooking up with girls after hours?"

Levi turned to look at her fully, his expression serious.

"No," Levi said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers. “I don’t. Not really my thing."

Levi’s words hung in the air for a moment before her mind caught up with them. She blinked, trying to process what he had just said. “Wait, really?”

Levi turned his head slightly, his expression blank. “Why would you think otherwise?” he asked.

She bit her lip, feeling a flush creep up her neck. She shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“Well… you had a condom,” she murmured, glancing away. “Kinda seemed like you carry those around at work… you know, just in case.”

Levi’s expression remained deadpan. “I don’t carry them for fun. I have to refill those stupid vending machines in the bathrooms,” he said flatly. “It’s just part of the job.”

She blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected that answer. Her mind raced as the details sank in, and it actually made sense.

“Oh,” she said, a small laugh escaping her. “Well, that’s... practical.”

Levi nodded as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’d be surprised how often people go to the bathroom for more than just business,” he added disgusted.

Her cheeks burned, and she couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly. The memory of her rushing into the bathroom just a few minutes ago flooded back “Yeah,” she said awkwardly. “That’s... weird.”

They sat in silence for another moment, the air between them charged with an unfamiliar tension. 

Her mind raced, unsure what to do or say next. Part of her wanted to lean in and kiss him again, to see if the spark was still there. Another part felt suddenly self-conscious, hyperaware of her messy appearance and the fact that she had just fucked a man she barely knew.

"So,” Levi said, snapping her out of her thoughts, and breaking the silence. “You got anything else planned for tonight?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her. 

She was caught off guard by the question. She hesitated for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts before answering, "Uh...no, not really," she said. 

She hadn't expected him to ask her something so casual, especially after everything that had just happened.

Levi’s lips curled into a sly smirk, his eyes filled with intrigue as he leaned in closer. He gently lifted her chin and tilted her head back, causing her to look up at him.

"Good," he said as he ran his thumb down her lip, watching her closely as she trembled under his touch. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

masterlist

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.