#so I can smell them all separately and see how the scent changes over time after being applied''

[thethingything]

so we may have gotten four little perfume samples and I may have tried on the tiniest bit of a couple of them and suddenly regretted the fact that I absolutely cannot justify buying whole bottles of them to wear.

the samples, from left to right, are:

Over the Chocolate Shop by Tuesdays

Bee by Zoologist

Nectar of Love by April Aromatics

Jasmina by April Aromatics

I think my favourites out of the four are Bee and Jasmina, but I'm really intrigued by whatever Over the Chocolate Shop has going on because it's kind of like an earthy, almost coffee-like chocolate scent.

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙.❝

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Law/Ace/Doffy: pol | Kid: ダイコン

Headcanons » Law ✧ Ace ✧ Kid ✧ Doflamingo Wordcount » 1873 Info » Fem reader, mature/kinky things but also fluffy and cute

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. ����𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑎𝑤

» When you read something to him: Usually you're with Law in his study, even when the two of you are doing separate things. He's mostly working on some plans or studying medical books while you're quietly reading a book on the sofa, simply enjoying each other's presence. Some days, however, you decide to read in the library. There is a big and cozy reading corner with lots of cushions and blankets, as it is always cold in the Polar Tang. The reason why you love reading there is because of the large bull's eye that reveals the secrets of the sea. Sometimes you sink into your thoughts and dream of the future as you gaze out into the blue, not even realizing how Law quietly sneaks under your blanket. Only when he takes you in his arms and presses you against him, you come back to yourself and drop your book. You talk briefly about the day so far, what you've done and then he lays his head on your lap. You brush his hair out of his face, he looks a little tired and has come to you to relax. You are his safe place, just as he is yours. You know immediately what to do and turn a few pages in another book.... "I assume we're having our little reading session again today, darling?" It's become like an unwritten rule for you, that when he lies down on your lap, you read to him and then take a nap together. Law looks at you with one eye open and grins, as you turn to the page where you left off last time. He likes the way you change your voice depending on what is happening in the story and after a while he is so relaxed that he falls asleep. When you hear his light snoring, you smile at him lovingly and put the bookmark on the current page before putting the book aside. You snuggle up to him and enjoy the peacefulness.

» Your fragrance: The perfume you wear and your own scent have a better effect on him than lavender and directly soothes his senses. You smell like home to him. When you are together with the others and you lean on his shoulder, he always tries to discreetly place a kiss on your head. Your hair always smells like fresh lemon, but rather light and refreshing. You don't like classy and expensive fragrances and prefer things to be natural and simple. Your scent is like aromatherapy for Law and that's a secret you'll never discover.

» Your hips: Law is pretty good at keeping his face under control, but when you're wearing a crop top and showing your hips, you can see the blush on his cheeks. He really has a fetish for your curves and your belly. He places a thousand kisses on your tender skin as he goes down further towards your private parts. His lips fly so softly over your skin that you can barely feel them. When he's on top of you he loves to grab you by the hips to pull you towards him. Skillful hands caress your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you arch your back because of all those tender touches. The squeezing sensation builds up in your lower middle and you literally beg him to release you. Law is someone who likes to try out lots of positions, preferably ones where he can grab you by the hips to guide you. While he is still on top of you, he pulls you towards him and turns so that he is now underneath you and you are sitting on his dick. You are visibly surprised by the sudden change of position and need a moment before you start riding him. However, Law doesn't give you a second, moves along your thigh to your hips and moves you up and down. The forthcoming penetration makes you see stars and after you both reach your peak, you let yourself fall exhausted onto his chest. He kisses your forehead tenderly and caresses your hips as you both calm your breathing.

𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑔𝑎𝑠 𝐷. 𝐴𝑐𝑒

» The wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh: Your laugh alone makes him turn around as soon as he hears it, but the little wrinkles on your face are another level. He also shows no shame and stares into your face lovingly. Of course, you don't miss his stares and his answer to why he's staring at you so intensely was simple: "Your wrinkles are so adorable when you laugh.". He then had to convince you that he finds them charming, as you don't exactly find your wrinkles cute. In your eyes, they're more of a sign that you're ageing. His reaction afterwards was almost funny, because now it was him who was offended. In his eyes, the wrinkles only mean what a cheerful person you are.

» Your skin: Your skin is so soft and gives off a warmth that he doesn't even have, even though he's pure heat himself. lol. If the guy doesn't feel your skin on his, he feels like he's hypothermic. Nevertheless, he would never get on your nerves, he rather keeps it to himself how much he longs for your skin. That means he'll take every chance he gets to touch you. You're cooking? He will of course help you by hugging you from behind, putting his hand over yours and you two stir together :D He loves it when you sunbathe. Not only is it a nice sight for him to ogle you while you sizzle in the sun, it's also the perfect opportunity to touch you intimately in public. (Ace is definitely the type to have sex in public. Nicely on the beach while the sun goes down *-*) He definitely has a lot sunscreen in stock, even if he doesn't need it for himself, but it gives him one more reason to feel your skin without being intrusive. He applies the cream very thoroughly and definitely every 2 hours. At first you thought he was very sweet and attentive because you couldn't reach all the spots, then you realized that he just wanted a opportunity to grope you… But you won't say anything against it because you enjoy how thoroughly he massages the suncream into your skin.

𝐸𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝐾𝑖𝑑

» How you dance: No matter how full the pub is, his eyes are always on you and follow your rhythmical movements. His breathing slows down while your hips move seductively. You are a passionate woman but you dance just for yourself and simply enjoy the music as it moves through your body. Kid sometimes doesn't even notice when one of his crew members is talking to him… mostly it takes him a moment or two to react. He also finds it very satisfying to watch you reject other men. He feels proud. However, if someone touches you, he doesn't hesitate and intervenes aggressively. Just look and don't touch is the motto. You also like the way he gets angry and intervenes, so you happily snuggle up to him while you make a face at the other guy. Kid doesn't seem like it, but it takes a while before he forgives you for being such a hottie that other men keep coming crawling up to you. You enjoy it though, because it's almost cute how a tough guy like him pouts. However, he will forgive you... at the latest when you dance for him in your shared bedroom, in private ;)

» Your quick wit: Well, you do not only bark, you also bite. The Crew knows that and those who don't know you will find out soon enough! Kid never has to get involved when you're arguing with others. You're eloquent and if necessary you'll hit them! But don't worry, he's always keeping an eye on you and if you show him that you need his help, he won't hesitate and will happily take over the beating.

» Your relationship with his crew: Even if you are the captain's lover, it doesn't mean that you have automatically earned the respect of his crew... But it didn't take long for everyone to consider you one of them. For Heat, for example, you're like a little sister and you're probably the only one he's okay with when she cries (He hates crybabys, lol). The first person you really became friends with was Killer, and not just because Kid told him to look after you when he couldn't himself. It's actually because you both like spaghetti, while the others are already sick of it and you're an insane cook. The first time you cooked spaghetti, he liked it so much that he ate all the leftovers at night. This is especially important for Kid, because if his people don't love you, why should he?

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜

» Your appearance: Doflamingo is an obsessive narcissist. He may love you in his own twisted way but he always says he owns you. He proudly displays you by his side and that's why your looks are important. In Doffy's eyes, you wouldn't be his queen if you weren't the most beautiful woman in the world. People who disagree with him will lose their lives faster than they would like… Because how dare they think that a man like him doesn't have the most beautiful wife. Not because you are incredibly beautiful (which is definitely true) but because Donquixote Doflamingo will only have the most beautiful woman by his side. (Know the difference..)

» How you moan his name: Doffy loves to get the softest sounds out of you while he fucks you into madness. "Say my name, my angel." You look up at him hesitantly. You can't think straight as he hammers into you, his movements are vigorous but so skillful that it doesn't hurt. It just feels so good when his tip triggers your G spot. Since Doflamingo isn't even waiting for you, he casually wraps a hand around your slender neck, forcing you to keep your gaze upright. You feel so intimidated when you look into his eyes… When you are intimate with each other, you have the honor of looking into his eyes. His gaze burns itself into your brain and if you're honest, you feel powerless. When you finally let yourself be overtaken by all your feelings, you can't help but release them through your voice. You are incredibly turned on by the way his elegant hand slowly takes your breath away and you arch your back. "Oh Doffy…" With these two words, you let the last bit of air out of your lungs and let your head fall back. "Fufufufu… My beautiful angel, don't stop singing for me." You completely let go of your embarrassment and give yourself completely to him. Your sweet sounds have an electrifying effect on him, feelings are released in his body that he can't identify, he only knows that he won't leave you to anyone. Your voice belongs to him alone and he decides to let the whole castle hear how he ruins you.

Masterlist

Hope you like it, I'm off to the land of dreams, good night :3

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒖𝒓𝒊 ♡

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, y/n overthinks a lot and isn't very nice or forgiving to herself, food, y/n panicking & hyperventilating, food, blood, suggestive near end

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWELVE -> FAILED ROMANTIC ESCAPADES (partially written, wc: 1.5k)

"Hey, hey, hey." Minho cups your face hesitantly, wiping the stream of tears flooding from your eyes. You're hyperventilating, gasping for air by the time he's arrived to help you as the pan of burnt food lies off to the side. "Here."

He takes a hand and places it on his chest, breathing in deeply and encouraging you to do the same. You try, but its shaky and and you start coughing. A hand comes down to rub your back and you don't even notice how close you are, finally starting to focus on the rise and fall of Minho's chest. Once you've started to calm, he lets his hand fall off of your back, leaving the one clasping yours to him.

"Go sit down," he orders and you try to protest. "No, I don't want to hear it. Go sit and destress with the cats while I salvage this."

"There's no salvaging that," you say, pointing to the charred, inedible... lump on the stovetop.

"So I'll make something new."

Sitting on the couch, you debate texting Soobin and calling the whole thing off, but he's already on the way and the scent of food cooking wafts over you. You feel fucking awful. First, you mess up the date, if you can call it that, before it even started, and now you've guilted Minho into helping you when he was probably in the middle of doing something. What he's making smells delicious and you feel even worse.

"How long?" Minho calls out from the kitchen. The apartment is fairly open, only an island separating that part from the living room you're in.

"Twenty minutes, give or take."

"Touch up your makeup, you cried it all off." Your face reddens. "And wear that pink shirt you have."

"The one with the ribbon?" You ask, confused why he knows your closet.

"No, not that one. The other one with the heart."

"Why?"

"Because it's nice," he says, still focused on the task at hand. "You look nice in it."

You don't know how to respond so you go to look for the shirt he mentioned. It's hanging up in your freshly organized closet, colour coordinated to help you find things easier. Taking it off the hanger, you change quickly and re-emerge to see Minho plating what looks like a professional dish.

Soobin is never going to believe you made that. Your heart drops and you start fiddling with your fingers, standing at the edge if the kitchen and staring as he finishes up. Unwelcome tears prickle at your eyes again, breath picking up slightly. Minhi catches your eye, coming over and looking down at you. His hand comes up to the back of your head, patting your hair, and somehow this helps you calm down.

"He's not going to think I made that," you admit.

"Why not? There are dirty dishes in the sink." Minho turns your face gently to look. "Who says you can't be a Michelin chef in your spare time?"

"Shut up," you push his hand away, barely containing a smile.

"There's our girl," he sighs. "Now, you know-"

A knock at the door, it opens seconds later, a tall man walking in. "Y/n? I know you said to just walk in but I feel weird so I'm still going to wait for you by the door."

"Oh my god." You look to where Soobin's voice came from, back at Minho, gripping your panic by the throat and shoving it away. "He'll see you if you go to your room and I said no one would be home."

"I can hide-"

"Behind the island!" You push him away quickly as you hear footsteps approaching. Turning around, you see Soobin hesitantly walking in. "Hey! I was just um... finishing getting everything ready! Yeah, that's what I was doing. I, uh, still need to get drinks though. What do you like? We have a bit of red wine left, sparkling water, regular water, and some pop too. Unless you don't want a drink! But hydration is important."

Your voice becomes small nearing the end of your rambling, internally cringing at yourself, but Soobin just smiles and takes off his coat. "Regular water is fine."

Nodding, you go to the side of the island Minho is on. He's crouched against the side, looking up at you as you open the fridge door. When you turn back around with the jug of water, you can see Soobin rounding the corner and panic, nearly dropping the jug as you kick Minho's leg, silently telling his to go around to the other side. He glares at you, but crawls away just as Soobin joins you, a small smile on his face. Sweat clings to your skin as you set the jug down, sending Soobin a tight smile as you reach for two glasses. They're just too high, but you're determined, which does not end well. One glass is close enough to the edge that you can grab it smoothly, but the other is shoved and falls onto the counter, glass flying.

"Oh my god!" You step back, setting the glass behind you and pushing Soobin away with your other hand. "Stand here, I'll sweep this up. I'm so sorry."

You're trying hard not to cry again at this point, so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you feel like you'll burst. The glass cleans up easy enough, but you still feel terrible.

"Y/n, you're bleeding."

"What?" You look down at the hand you just threw the glass out with and see a small cut running under your pointer and middle fingers. "Shit, okay, um, I'll be right back."

"Oh, okay," Soobin leans out of your way as you rush past him.

"Get it together," you say to yourself as you close the bathroom door, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. "Patch it up and get back out there. Calm the fuck down."

And you do just that, slapping a bandage onto the wound and stepping back out. With another deep breath, you reenter the kitchen.

"Ready to eat?" You plaster a smile on your face, taking the dishes and setting them on the coffee table. "We usually eat at the island, but I thought the couch would be nicer for tonight since the seats are comfier. Is that okay? We can eat at the island if you prefer. Or even up on the rooftop, we have a picnic table up there-"

"The couch is fine," Soobin cuts you off. "Really."

You laugh nervously, watching Minho crawl back to the other side as Soobin joins you on the couch. As you eat and make small talk, you become more comfortable, laughing freely at his jokes and even making your own. After you're done, he compliments the food and a wave of guilt runs through you, but you push it down and suggest a movie. Out of the corner of you eye, you see Minho trying to escape the kitchen, so you fully divert Soobin's attention to the TV, allowing Minho to stop being an unintentional third wheel. Not that this is a date.

This is how you end up snuggled into Soobin's chest, his arms wrapped around your waist as the credits roll. It's dark outside, the sun having set while the movie was still going. You yawn, looking up at him with a sleepy smile that he returns, ruffling your hair a bit and making you giggle.

"I had a good time tonight," he says, and you swear his eyes flickered down to your lips, but maybe you're being delusional.

"Me too, we should do this again sometime."

"I can think of something else I'd like to do again," he smirks and you blush.

"You know we can't-"

"They don't have to know." Soobin uses a finger to lift your chin, barely a breath away from his soft lips now. "We don't have to say anything. I know you like me Y/n, and I like you too."

Your heart is racing as he closes the distance between you, mouths moving together in a rhythm. He slowly moves you onto your back, the hand on your waist traveling down to your hip, toying with your waistband as he hovers over you and deepens the kiss. As his thumb dips under the waistband, it sets in what's happening and the feeling of guilt washes back over you, pushing him off you harshly with a hand to his chest.

Sitting up too quickly, your head spins. A hand is on your cheek, turning you to face the man next to you, but everything is too much and you smack it away. Soobin furrows his eyebrows and retracts his hand.

"I think I should go," he says, voice low.

You don't say anything as he gets up or when he slides his shoes and coat on. All you can do is stare at your hands, skin hot and tingly all over. When you hear the door open, your head finally shoots up to see Soobin leaving.

"I'm sorry-" You get up, but he's already out the door. You stare at the wood, wishing there wasn't something wrong with you.

notes -> i wanna hug yn. so, her family is coming into the picture here... doesn't seem like the greatest dynamic.

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15 @splat00z

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[bsideminibang]

Masterlist

And that's a wrap! Many, many thanks to all the amazing authors, artists and betas who worked on this year's bang!

Below the cut are all the pieces that were submitted this year, so now's the time to check them out!

You're Fucking Perfect (To Me) by TwinOne with art from nickelkeep (8600 words, T)

Every Thursday Castiel visits Sam’s house, they share a glass or two of good whiskey and a bit of conversation like they’ve done for years. Everything changes the day he smells a new and intriguing scent as soon as he steps inside his friend’s house.

It’s the scent of an omega. Not just any omega, but his true mate.

A story told using the lyrics of the song Fucking Perfect by P!nk as prompts for each chapter.

You Can Keep Your Hat On by Redamber79 with art from PetraAmia (5444 words, E)

When a staff party with Cas' coworkers and boss gets too uncomfortable with unwanted advances on both of them, Dean and Cas ditch the party to go back to their place and celebrate on their own, starting with Dean performing a strip tease for Cas, and ending up in their bedroom.

Steve? Really...Steve? by Hectatess with art from Acaademicqueer (7625 words, M)

When Castiel wanders the empty streets out for revenge, he gets kidnapped. By the Law, no less. Had he been breaking the law so badly? And will he get that revenge?

When FBI-agents Sam and Dean are on an undercover job, they see the spitting image of one of the murdered victims in the case, walking, talking and… committing misdemeanours? Who is this guy, claiming to be Steve Milton? And can he really help them crack this case wide open?

Nice Like by MBQ with art from sidewinder (13700 words, E)

Dean and Benny search for Castiel in Purgatory, but the trio is rife with tensions when they finally "catch up" with the wayward angel.

Inspired by Lord Huron's, Meet Me in the Woods.

Play It Pretty For the World by cactusdragon517 with art from PetraAmaia (10805 words, E)

It's an old story, in the end: Boy meets boy. Boy falls in love. Happily ever after. But how they get there is a different story altogether (after all, what can you expect from rockstars?)

Family Business is in need of a new guitarist and lucky for them, session musician Castiel Novak is available. Guitar in hand and a bag over his shoulder, Castiel arrives in LA with Family Business on the brink of making it big.

Internally, however, is a bit more complex. Dean Winchester, lead singer and older brother, has found himself navigating his brother's growing addiction and their band's impending success.

After tours and traveling the world, they go their separate ways.

Can Dean and Castiel find their way back to each other?

Love From the Other Side by LadyKnightSkye with art from Dmitrievans (9245 words, T)

When Zachariah sends Dean forward into the world after the Apocalypse, instead of running into the National Guard, he runs into a person he thinks is his brother. In relief, he hugs “Sam.” This one choice of affection instead of aggression sets off a chain of events that ripples out from both sides of the Apocalypse.

Only Physical by nickelkeep with art from PetraAmia (4470 words, E)

Cas and Dean have been best friends for as long as Cas can remember. He's always wanted more, and when he and Dean slip into the friends-with-benefits category, he knew he could be satisfied with that. Until he wasn't.

Art for the bang by Rapscallion

I Had Some Time (With You) by songliili with art from Keikakudom (23970 words, E)

It’s 2005 when things go to hell.

Well. They go to hell for everyone except Dean, ‘cause he was ready for it.

Well. He was ready for the apocalypse, not for the gorgeous man who fell into his life, quite literally.

OR

A Destiel rewrite of Bill and Frank’s love story as shown on HBO’s The Last of Us episode 3: Long Long Time that uses elements of both universes.

Unraveling Unrolled by bleuzombie with art from golby-moon (3134 words, M)

A parent’s love should be unconditional. Coming out as trans has really put John’s love to the test.

[avionvadion]

For Chapter 31 of Forest Deep. 

Story Snippet Below:

Kohaku was nowhere to be seen.

He had completely disappeared. His scent had vanished with the wind, and Inuyasha just knew that it meant nothing good. It was probably part of some trap laid by Naraku, to separate everyone and make them run in circles. The scent of random and unfamiliar demons were pretty strong, too, which meant Kohaku most likely took one of them with him as a steed to help hasten his escape, and lead Sango, Miroku, and Kirara away from the castle- knowing they would follow him.

Kagura should be nearby, too, if things played out as they usually did. Her scent was quite faint, though… fresh, but faint. Did she leave? Why? Where did she go? Maybe she went to help Kohaku.

Inuyasha should go help Sango and Miroku before things go south, but… Naraku and Sesshōmaru were in the castle somewhere.

Naraku and Sesshōmaru, and…

“Anastasia!” Inuyasha growled, his feet coming to an abrupt sliding halt as he approached the hall the undead priestess was standing in.

Based on the demon corpses littering the area, it was the probably a hall Irene had run through trying to escape. He could smell her all over this place. Her and that other human that was with her- that… little girl. He still can’t wrap his head around why Naraku had abducted a child, or what her connection to Sesshōmaru was. It made zero sense. What made even less sense to Inuyasha, though, was how similar Anastasia looked to Irene.

It was so unnerving, seeing the undead priestess turn to look at him. He could hardly find any difference between them at all, save for the lack of any and all emotion on what he normally knew to be a very expressive face. Gripping tetsusaiga, Inuyasha pointed the blade at Anastasia, and when Kagome, Maria, and Shippō finally caught up to him he could hear them let out small gasps, seeing the priestess standing not too far away from him.

“Turns out you were here!” The half-demon exclaimed. “You didn’t think you had us totally fooled, did you? We’re not that stupid, you know!”

“Why did you lead us to this castle?” Kagome asked, gripping her bow tight as she moved to stand beside Inuyasha. “Why did you give us those barrier stones? I don’t understand! Why did you pretend to be Irene?”

The woman said nothing at first, before turning her cold gaze towards the older, auburn-haired foreigner at their side. A fiery red snake coiled around Anastasia’s arms, and she tilted her head with an apathetic stare that sent chills down their spines. “Simple. If anyone could lead me to that girl… it would be you.”

“Why!?” Maria hissed, pushing past everyone and pointing the katana at the undead copycat of her younger sister. She was still filled with so much rage and grief, and she needed someone or something to take it out on fast before her strength left her. “Why Irene!? Why do you look like her!? Why do you want her!? Why not me!?”

Anything would be better than losing her little sister. Maria’s already lost so much throughout her life, both in her own time period and in this one. She can’t bear to lose Irene, too. Anastasia originally wanted Maria’s soul, didn't she? Why did that have to change just because Irene could somehow summon spirits?

The undead priestess stared at the freckled-faced woman for several long seconds before closing her eyes. When she opened them again, her cold chocolate brown gaze met Maria’s burning hazel green ones directly.

“Because,” Anastasia said calmly, “it is the soul of a descendant that I need.”

What?

“That girl has the spirits that abandoned me, and I want them back. You do not. As for why we look alike… I suppose one can only say that it is fate at play. Fitting, considering it is fate that has long-since been changed. Perhaps… it has always been this way. Or perhaps… the gods decided to take matters into their own hands. Whatever it may be, it matters not.”

Dark lashes fluttering, her apathetic brown eyes flashed with something Inuyasha dared to describe as hate.

“Her soul will be mine in the end.”

Confusion flitted across Maria’s angry features at her words, her grip on her blade faltering, and Kagome’s hands flew up to her mouth in shock, understanding dawning on her as all the pieces clicked into place. “We wondered about it before, but…”

“We thought it was impossible.” Shippō continued, stunned by this reveal. “Irene said she didn’t have any ancestors or relatives in Japan!”

“But… Anastasia isn’t Japanese.” Inuyasha realized, glancing back at them from over his shoulder. “She’s from the same place Irene is.”

“And if Irene looks like Anastasia because she’s her descendant…” Kagome added.

“Then that makes her trying to kill Irene all the more twisted.” Inuyasha finished with growl. He turned his molten gold glare back towards the undead priestess. “Just what the hell is wrong with you!?”

“What’s wrong with me…?” Anastasia echoed. For once, emotion flashed across her pale and empty features- an anger that’s been suppressed for many long years. She threw her arm out to the side, and her sleeves and fingertips erupted with red flame. “That I am cursed to live in this form without a living soul! That I am unable to so much as bleed! I am ageless and undying, and have been cast away from that which I love! No one and nothing will stop me from claiming that pathetic girl’s soul!”

Maria was shaking now, the rage that twisted her features near identical to the rage twisting Anastasia’s own. Before Inuyasha could bark out another insult, the auburn-haired woman was already running, slashing at Anastasia with her sword. “Irene is not pathetic!”

She’s sickly and weak and not very bright, but she isn’t pathetic. She’s strong.

Irene has become so strong that Maria barely recognized her.

She didn’t need the protection of her older sister anymore, because she was now able to defend herself. But she was still weak, and able to be killed, and there had been so much of her blood outside and on her clothes and then she was gone with that dragon and little girl, and this wretched look-alike is talking about stealing her soul when Maria doesn’t even know if Irene is already dead. It’s so…

Infuriating.

Maria wants to tear this undead priestess to pieces. She wants to tear her limb from limb. Unfortunately, Anastasia easily sidestepped Maria’s blow and shot out a blast of fire from her palm, sending the woman stumbling as it hit her hard in the back of her armor.

“You should be thanking me.” Anastasia stated coldly, watching as Maria whirled around to glare at her with crazed, tear-filled eyes. “That girl is fated to die young, just as I had. I’m doing her a favor, putting her out of her misery. At least in me, her soul will live on.”

“Shut up!” Maria roared, spinning on her heel and charging again. She slashed, left and right and left again, and then lunged forward, but Anastasia was agile. She easily sidestepped each swing of the blade. “Irene’s soul is Irene’s! It will not be belonging to you! Not now, not ever!”

“Tch.” Inuyasha clicked his tongue, watching the battle between ancestor and descendant take place, before deciding it was time to end this. He raised the tetsusaiga up over his shoulder, preparing to swing. “Ancestor or not, you’re already dead, right? So it’s fine if we kill you again!”

“I-Inuyasha, wait-!” Kagome cried, reaching a hand out to try and stop him, but he was already gone.

He was running full speed at the undead priestess, and Maria hurriedly jumped back to avoid the swing of the sword that ended up burying itself into the floorboards when Anastasia avoided getting hit again. “Stay still, you selfish corpse!”

Whirling around, Inuyasha faced Anastasia with enraged amber eyes, swinging the tetsusaiga one more time with all his might.

“Wind Scar!”

[writtenjewels]

A&O part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

It was late at night when Jason went running. He chose this time on purpose, hoping he would get to see Salim again. So far the forest was the only reliable place for them to meet up. As he ran, Jason tried to keep his ears open for any movement in the woods. It was a quiet night but there was plenty of time for that to change.

He'd been running for a few miles when finally he heard another pair of feet striking the ground. Excited, he turned so he could intercept. The other person changed course too and soon they were right in each other's paths. Even in the darkness, Jason recognized the shape. He ran a little faster and again Salim matched him.

“Jason!” Salim called to him. He stopped but Jason kept going, and pounced. With a startled oof Salim caught him and nearly fell over.

“Gotcha,” Jason declared with a grin.

“Y-yes,” Salim agreed. Jason took a breath and nearly moaned at Salim's Alpha scent. He got a pretty good whiff of it when he lifted Salim off the ground the other day and now that he was letting himself enjoy it, it really did smell good. “Jason,” Salim began, but said no more.

“You can scent me,” Jason assured him. Salim swallowed and leaned in to brush his nose along Jason's throat. He shivered but held still, letting his Omega instincts kick in and submit.

“I was hoping to see you again,” Salim confessed. He drew back and met Jason's gaze. “Were you looking for me, too?” Jason nodded; he didn't want to admit just how much he wanted to see Salim, how he'd been thinking of the Alpha ever since they parted ways and how Jason couldn't get the scent out of his mind.

“C'mon, let's go fishing,” Jason urged him. He dashed off with Salim hurrying after him. They darted and weaved through the trees, each getting close enough to brush their fingers against the other's side before running off again. It was a type of play Jason had seen between Alpha and Omega before but never engaged in until now.

They came to a river and Jason knelt down to start catching the fish. Salim hovered close by. Jason had to take him by the hand and show him how to do it. At some point it shifted to Salim threading his fingers through Jason's. Not the easiest way to catch fish, but Jason wasn't going to say anything. A lot of escaped fish and splashes of cold water on their clothes later, they had enough fish between them for a meal.

“And here I was hoping you would need me to get fruit off a tree again,” Salim teased.

“I could just stick you up on a branch and leave you,” Jason retorted. They were leaning close to each other, Jason's heart responding with an eager beat.

“You're such a brat,” Salim scolded. “I should push you in this river.”

“But then you couldn't scent me.” Jason smirked, his eyes glinting. “Where's the fun in that?”

“I do like your scent,” Salim agreed. They were even closer now with only inches separating them. “Do you like mine?” Salim asked with a tilt of his head. It was an obvious invitation. Swallowing, Jason brushed his nose against Salim's throat. It was musky, warm, tantalizing, and sharp with the hint of desire.

Jason wanted to shrug it off and play it cool, but he couldn't. He couldn't fully explain it to himself. Of course the Alpha scent was meant to appeal to an Omega, but it felt like more than that. It was Salim appealing to Jason, like the scent would've called to him regardless. The idea made Jason nervous and he pulled away.

“We should get to cookin' these fish.”

“All right,” Salim agreed. It was a relief Salim let the matter drop so quickly. Salim leaned in and nuzzled against Jason, making the other man shiver. Alpha, Jason’s Omega instincts sang out. That made him nervous too, but also a little excited.

[inevitablemoment]

A sample from my adaptation of the Collectors Arc for the Cathleen Lives AU, to hint at the seeds sown that bloom into the break-up of Peter and Dana before Ghostbusters II.

Also includes an allusion to another arc that I'm creating specifically for the Cathleen Lives AU.

Read at your own risk if you don't want to be spoiled, since I haven't written them yet.

Notes -- The apartment that Dana owned in Ghostbusters II was shared with Peter. After she married Andre, she moved in with him and sold the apartment. But after she and Andre separated, she found that her previous apartment was vacant again and took the opportunity to move back in there again.

Martha is an OC who will be part of the series for a short time, but she will have an important role. She is partially based on Jenny Moran from the comics, but her arc is created by me.

The hospital had cleared them to leave after two nights. It turned out that the cut above Peter's eyebrow wouldn't need stitches, but they still wanted to monitor him for a possible concussion. Satisfied that they could find no signs of one, they sent him on his somewhat-merry way back home with Dana.

She walked back into the bedroom with a bag of ice, covered with a washcloth. She sat down at the foot of the bed and pressed it against the goose egg-sized bump on his head.

"How's your head?" she asked.

Peter moved his hand over hers so that he could take the bag from her and keep it over the bump. "Still hurts-- still feels my brain and heart switched places when Egon detonated Ray's pack."

"I have a feeling that would happen to anyone trying to escape limbo," Dana said.

Peter found it in himself to laugh, and then instantly regretted it, the pounding in his head growing worse.

"Sorry," Dana apologized. "I shouldn't have--"

"No, no, it's okay," he tried to reassure her. "Not your fault-- just need to try not to laugh at anything for the next week. Hey, why don't you change the channel and see if a Kinison special's on."

Dana laughed, but in her brief moment of mirth, felt as if she were expelling the three months worth of tension and fear that she had carried. "I can go check the TV Guide."

But she didn't get up, staying in her seat on the bed. She smiled at him, the back of her eyes beginning to burn as tears formed.

Though she had cried numerous times in the past three months, she had found herself unable to burst into tears of joy when he had come back to her-- mostly because that they were otherwise engaged with trying to trap the Collectors. She hadn't cried at the hospital, either.

And now, she couldn't help herself.

She gripped Peter's free hand, and saw him smile back at her.

But...

No, she wasn't being fair.

His smile looked no more different than the one that he would wear when he came home from the firehouse. If anyone looked at him, they probably would have thought that it was all it was.

Just her needing to tend his wounds after a call gone wrong.

"Hey... come here," he wrapped his arm around her, laying the two of them back down on the bed.

The soap that he had used at the hospital had done nothing to wash away the scent of burnt metal on his skin, another consequence of his escape from limbo, but Dana could still smell his natural musk underneath it. It was subtler than normal, but it was there.

She nestled her face into the crook of his neck, feeling his hand reach up to run his fingers through her curls. She smiled brightly.

She had missed this so much. Moments like this, where the two of them could just lie in bed together, nothing to worry about.

Dana felt Peter press his lips to the top of her head.

"It's like I never left," she heard him say.

He couldn't see it, but her smile was slowly fading as she repeated what his words in her head.

Like I never left.

Like I never left.

Dana knew that it had only been a week for him, but she had lived without him for three months and twenty-one days.

They had only been together again for eleven days before they had been ripped apart again.

She had to step in his place to protect New York City, and to a larger extent, the world from ghosts or another Gozer situation while searching for him and the others.

She thought back to the day that Ray's asshole brother had shown up at the firehouse and pretty much demanded that they all just declare the boys dead. She had remained silent, but the others-- basically Cathleen and Janine-- had torn him a new one over it.

Despite the part of her that screamed that he was alive somewhere, she would grieve him as if he had been killed that night at least once a week, then splash water in her face, go on with her life, and the cycle would continue.

How could Peter have believed that it could be just like it was before?

For starters, one day, she had gotten so lost in her mind that she had decided to repaint their room. She had rarely picked up her cello unless she was rehearsing with the orchestra, which was rare in of itself with how many calls that she had to deal with

And people had changed, too.

Cathleen had been a mess. And who could blame her? She herself only had eleven days with her husband before he had been snatched from their own home as she had watched, leaving her to take care of a five-year-old and step in as de-facto leader of the Ghostbusters. She had thrown herself into work and raising Callie-- if she wasn't at the firehouse, she was close to tearing the world apart to try to find Egon. Dana was sure that if she and the other girls hadn't stepped in, Cathleen would have suffered a nervous breakdown.

Martha had been inconsolable at the beginning; she would retreat to the sleeping quarters upstairs and lie down in Ray's bed to cry. But, around the fourth week, when it became apparent that he wouldn't be back anytime soon, she had pulled herself together and stepped into her new role with ease. If anything, it unnerved Dana to see how calm Martha was at some times-- almost like a soldier.

Janine was more or less the same, personality wise, but the exhaustion that she always had on her face only grew more apparent as the months had gone on. She had gone from a receptionist to a receptionist/Ghostbuster/Cathleen's caretaker when Cathleen was overworking herself/Callie's part-time nanny.

Tiyah grew quiet... too quiet, as Egon and Ray liked to say whenever they wanted to tempt fate. She would often be found walking around the firehouse with a thoughtful and sad look on her face, or looking at the pictures of Winston longingly. And after Martha, she had been next to almost lose hope that the boys would ever return or be found.

And poor little Callie... her mother had missed a quarter of her last year before she began kindergarten, and her father had missed everything from her first day of school to Halloween to Thanksgiving. About three times, Cathleen had to pick her up from school because the teacher had called. Callie had broken down in hysterical tears, crying for her daddy.

But they did come back, all on their own-- not that Dana had ever doubted that they could have figured it out by themselves. And she had seen Egon and Cathleen's reunion.

How Cathleen had rushed to him and kissed him as if it had been three decades rather than three months. The look in his eyes as Egon had realized that they had been missing for three months. The way that the two of them melted into each other's arms as they talked about how much they had missed each other.

How was it that Egon, someone that everyone mocked for not understanding social cues and that some blinkered people believed to be unfeeling, was able to recognize how much had changed, and yet Peter didn't?

"Dana?"

Dana looked back up at Peter, seeing at he had set the ice aside, even though she had told him to keep it on his head for fifteen minutes.

But she didn't scold him about that.

"Yeah, it's.. you're right," she said instead, a very artificial smile on her face. "Just like it was before."

[palmofafreezinghand]

For the Emoji Ask:

🛒💖⛔

Thank you for the ask @gisellelx !! Apologies it took me forever.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

I once again lack the self-awareness to answer this question well but here we go: 

Imagery: Esme has a baby blanket that was with her when she “died.” It’s implausible it would have survived in the water she jumped into but in my mind, the fishermen who found her kept it with her, no matter how implausible. It barely retains the scent of her son but it was enough for newborn her to smell and remember forever. Carlisle has crocheted a couple of replicas that pop up in my fics often. (I don’t know why I think Carlisle crochets but in my mind he does). 

Esme’s quilts are usually draped over a chair or the foot of a bed. I will admit I think this is partly because of who I think of Esme as a character and the fact every woman in my family quilts and I have so strongly associated fabric carefully cut into shapes and pieced back together to make purposeful patterns and the hours it takes as the ultimate labor of love. (And we have the state ribbons to prove it!) 

I always describe Esme as smelling like honeysuckle because Double Indemnity is one of my favorite books and films and the line “How could I have known murder can sometimes smell like honeysuckle?” changed something in the chemistry of my brain and I think Carlisle had a very similar reckoning sometime in the 1920s. 

Themes/feels: Carlisle as a narrator is always two-degrees separated from his motivations. He could be having the most mundane conversation at work and even subtly he’s thinking about Edward. Vice versa when he’s home he’s thinking about work and all the work he should be doing. 

Carlisle often ends up being a pretty anxious guy when I give him the talking stick, I think this is 2 fold 1. I write predominantly in 1920-1931 which was a rough time for the poor guy. 2. Edward got it from somewhere. And I think contrasting his absolute idolization of Carlisle and demonization of himself with a “You two are the same person in different fonts” is really fun. 

Scenes: Big scenes always happen in Esme’s bedroom. I didn’t consciously set out for it to be like that it just seems 

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

DO I!? My google drive is absolutely littered with wips that will never be finished. I write in a weird order of operations: dialogue then add everything else which means I have a lot of documents that are just conversations I can see happening but have yet to find a plot for. I have yet to abandon a published fic (although I sometimes do take upwards of six months to update things…) 

I’ve contemplated at least a half dozen different versions of human!Esme but have scrapped them all because it always seems to boil down to “Carlisle wouldn’t,” and in 1920 neither would Esme in my opinion. 

💖 What made you start writing?

Non-fandom: My grandfather is an author. I’ve written for as long as I can remember. 

Fandom-wise: I work in politics and 2020 was an… interesting election cycle. I was working 40 hours a week (unpaid) while going to school full-time and was centimeters away from a breakdown. My “vampiric literature” professor noticed and emailed me an “Odd Ways to Improve your Mental Health” infographic. One of the bullet points was “engage with fandom of your childhood interest.” I thought that was the stupidest thing ever but vaguely remembered reading @/panlight’s blog in middle school and thought what the hell let’s do it. I remember the general concept of Esme’s backstory had been the most intriguing to me for some reason back as a tween and went from there. 

The escapism was absolutely priceless but I kept myself distanced. “I can read these stories in a private browser and under no circumstances will create an account on any platform.” (It’s one of my goals to go back and properly leave a review on the fics I read during that time). 

In November we won the election by 13% and flipped a district — the only trade-off I  became obsessed with a character who is absolutely inconsequential to the plot of a book series I don’t remember liking when I first read it. 

I didn’t need the escapism for a couple of months, only keeping up with the stories that were actively updating. I don’t if anyone remembers what happened on January 6, 2021. I made my blog no later than the 9th. By January 24th I had written and posted my first ever fic.  @/esmeshardwoodfloors posted about how Carlisle and Esme could not have possibly gotten married in under a year and must have pretended to be married for some time. I agreed wholeheartedly and could see the whole thing pretty clearly. I wrote a chapter based on it, expecting no one to read it, and for me to abandon it quickly. Over a year later I’m 129,000+ words in…

[eternalxbarbie]

devil doesn’t bargain II LUCOLINE

It’s useless, don’t do this, it’s hubris to try. He’s ruthless, you knew this, I told you, didn’t I? He’s abusive, elusive, the truth is that he lies. I know you don’t want to let go and just like before, I can see that you’re sure you can change him but I know you won’t. The devil doesn’t bargain. 

Waking up was always the worst part of getting her neck snapped. That feeling of trying to force your vertebrae to feel like they were all aligned again was excruciating and if her body had been moved while she was out, the panic that set in during the first few moments of consciousness was overwhelming. She woke with a start, surprised to feel pain not in her neck but in her shoulders. Caroline whimpered as she tried to pull her hands down only to be met with resistance. Chains kept her arms outstretched over her head and her feet dangled about an inch off the ground making it impossible for her to get any leverage to break them. Terror was immediate and the more that she struggled against the bonds the more she could feel her shoulders separate as her arms began to pull from the sockets. 

She had known that physical pain was going to be part of this deal, but she hadn’t realized that Lucien wouldn’t even give her a moment to get used to her surroundings before they began. Caroline tried to take in as much of her surroundings as she could. trying to figure out where they were so she could get a message out if she had the opportunity. It was a warehouse, most likely abandoned. The scent of motor oil clung to the air, the floor stained with spots, and the lift that her chains were strapped to made her guess that it had been a mechanic shop at one point. There was a girl in the corner of the room, reading calmly as if this kind of event happened every day. She wondered for a moment if maybe she was compelled. “Hey,” Caroline whispered, not sure how far away Lucien might be lurking. “Hey, can you help me?” she asked, glancing up at the chains and then back at the stranger. 

“Don’t speak to my niece, Caroline.” came the voice behind her and she cringed just hearing Lucien speak her name. His voice grated like nails on a chalkboard and she defiantly wanted to tell him that she would speak to whomever she pleased. The blonde wasn’t stupid, however, and she knew that her stubbornness would only land her in more pain so she kept her mouth shut for the time being. 

“Let’s play a game,” Lucien offered, walking into Caroline’s line of sight now, clear spray bottle in hand. “I’m going to ask a question and you answer. If I think you’re being honest, no pain. But if I think you’re lying to me...” 

He trailed off, nodding at the girl that sat in the corner and she flicked her hand, magically opening the vents that lead to the outside. Sunlight streamed onto Caroline and she let out a howl as the rays burned her skin. She looked up at her hand amid the suffering, noticing that her daylight ring was gone. Terror was in her eyes as she looked down to try to see if her necklace was still on, only to be cut off by Lucien. 

“Fallon, close the vents,” he requested. The heretic was quick to appease the vampire and Caroline relaxed harder into her chains once the suffering paused momentarily. The smell of burning flesh was thick in the air and he took a step closer to Caroline with a smug grin in place. “The necklace was a clever move. Fallon’s using it to channel your daughter now. She recalled seeing it around sweet Lizzie’s neck during their time. How convenient that she spelled it and gave it to mummy? How sweet that she wished to protect you?” he mused. 

Self preservation went out the window and Caroline couldn’t control her rage. It took all of her strength but she spit in his direction as hard as she could, pleased when she watched her saliva spatter across his face. “Go to hell, Lucien.” 

“I’m sure I will one day, love. One day,” he answered. “But back to our game. I’ll make the first one easy: how does it feel to know that Niklaus chose Stefan’s safety over yours?”

Caroline, even in her weakened state, rolled her eyes. “It’d hurt if that was what happened but it wasn’t. I made this choice against his wishes. You kidnapped my mom and my boyfriend. Not like I had a lot of choices.” 

Lucien gave her a disbelieving look, shaking his head as he sprayed her directly in the face with his spray bottle. Annoyance turned to agony as her skin started to burn again and she realized it was vervain water she’d been spritzed with. Caroline lets out a growl of annoyance. “I answered the question, what the fuck was that for?” she shrieked. 

“You’re not being honest with either of us, darling. Sure, you made the choice but he let you go. Would he have let Stefan make the same choice? I don’t think so.” 

“Stefan’s human. It’s different,” Caroline protested, protective of Nik to the very end. 

“Stefan’s more important to him and we both know it. They have a history that you’ll never have. They have a bond that you’ll never have. You may be the flavor of the moment, Caroline, but Stefan has been his favorite for a century.” 

She hated that she believed there was truth in his words. He was playing into the worst parts of her, the parts that she had tried to bury since becoming a vampire, the tiny voice in her head that promised her that she would never be good enough. “He loves us differently but he doesn’t love one or the other more,” Caroline answered defensively. 

Lucien nodded. “I believe that you believe that,” he muses. 

Caroline glares but doesn’t respond, keeping her mouth shut to avoid any further unnecessary pain. “Now, question two,” Lucien starts, walking around her in circles so that she can’t keep his gaze. “Who owns the deed to the new house?” 

Caroline didn’t answer, shaking her head. Lucien rolled his eyes at her childish answer. “I already know it’s Stefan, Caroline. Just say it and save me the trouble of having to listen to you scream.” 

“It’s not Stefan!” she answers, lying through her teeth but hoping that the anger in her eyes read as sincerity instead. 

Lucien sighs, nodding to Fallon and the vents open once more. 

Caroline closed her eyes as she prepared for the pain, remembering her mother’s advice. Her mind flashed back to happier days. First to that day on the quad when Stefan had finally said that he loved her, then the night in the hotel when Nik had danced with her in front of the open refrigerator because he’d taken the time to listen to the little things. To Jeremy’s face the first time he saw Lucky. Then the pride-filled smile her mother had worn the day she graduated. To the first time that she had held every single one of her children. She listened to Liz and she lived in those moments, blocking out Lucien’s voice and the pain she was suffering through. She wasn’t sure how many of his questions she’d ignored when finally he said something that snapped her out of her reverie. 

“No matter, darling. If you refuse to talk, I’ll just have to take more drastic action. Stefan will be joining you soon and you have no one to blame but yourself.” 

“No,” Caroline said quickly, struggling again against the chains that held her in place at the idea of Stefan being strung up next to her, suffering next to her, because of her. “No, Lucien, stop! STOP! I’LL TALK! DON’T TOUCH HIM. DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!” 

Her throat was raw from how loudly she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks even as her face was distorted with anger. 

Lucien smiled. shaking his head. “Love, if I got that kind of reaction just with a threat, I can’t imagine how much I’ll get when it’s happening right in front of you. Hell, Nik may even just beg me to break the sire lines by the time it’s over. I, for one, can’t wait.” He grinned as he walk towards the door of the shop, beckoning Fallon to join him. “Enjoy your night, love. The fun is just beginning.” 

[backtothestart02]

Fall Break - 1/2 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: More twitter inspiration. Hope you enjoy.

...

Synopsis: College!AU - Barry visits Iris on his first fall break.

...

Chapter 1 -

In September of that year – freshman year of college for the both of them – Barry decided to take his first long weekend away from Coast City to return to Central City and visit Iris in her dorm. It was supposed to be a surprise, but at the last minute he couldn’t hold it in. He pulled out his phone when he had to stop for gas a mile away from her school and dialed her number.

“Bear! Hey! What are y-”

“I’m here.”

She blinked.

“Wha…? Wait. You don’t mean…”

“I’m getting gas a mile away from CCU. Your CCU.”

“Oh, my God for real?! But doesn’t it take like two days for you to drive from the coast to- Bear.”

“It’s fall break! They gave us half the week off, and I thought I’d spend the rest of it with you! What do you think? Can you smuggle me into your dorm room, or do I have to endure Joe’s judginess for the three days?”

She chuckled, covering her mouth.

“I know you live in a co-ed dorm,” he said, swallowing his hatred for that fact every second since he’d learned it.

“Yeah, but the guys and girls are still on separate floors,” she explained. “We’ve only been in school a month. What if-”

He snorted.

“Where’s the Iris I know?”

“Excuse me?” she blanched, but she was smiling.

“The one who broke curfew time and again, who lied straight to her father’s face when it was necessary to get what she wanted, who bent the rules when-”

“Alright, alright,” she said, laughing. “I take your meaning. Wasn’t really going to turn you down anyway. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you.”

He grinned from ear to ear.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Silence lingered, but it was the good kind.

“So, see you in 10?” she asked.

“Ish,” he said.

“Ish?”

“What if I get lost?”

She rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Fifteen then.”

“Bye, Iris.”

“Bye.”

Iris hung up and went to stand and look at herself in the full-length mirror in the room she shared with Carissa. Luckily, the snarky know-it-all had gone home for the weekend, so there would be a bed available for Barry and no one to have to keep a secret from if they’d walk in on him being there after hours.

But Barry was right, of course. She thrived on being a little rebellious. This would be no exception.

And neither was the silver stud poking out of her belly button that she’d just had done the night before. She smiled, touching it lightly as she studied herself in the mirror. She’d wear a shirt to cover it up, so she could surprise him with it after he arrived.

She’d have to swear him to secrecy obviously. There was no way her dad would take it well. She might have to hide it indefinitely. She was an adult now though, so he couldn’t force her to get rid of it, even if he did find out.

She was sticking to her guns on that.

After quickly changing clothes into some low-rise jeans and a lengthier t-shirt, Iris popped some hoop earrings into her ears, let her hair down so it hung over her shoulders, and tried to calm her nerves.

Why was she nervous?

This was Barry.

She shook it off, but the light knock on the door seconds later had her jumping nearly out of her skin.

“Who is it?” she called prettily, two feet from the door.

“It’s Barry,” he responded, sounding a bit nervous himself. “We just talked?”

She giggled and flung the door open.

“Wow, you look pretty,” were the first words out of his mouth, and she smiled bashfully.

“You know how to make a girl blush.” She poked at his chest, then pulled him inside, almost sending him into the bedframe just to the left of where she stood.

“I know it’s small.”

“No smaller than mine,” he assured her, then their eyes locked again. “Hey there.”

“Hey.”

She caught her breath, feeling something akin to butterflies beating wildly inside of her. Then she nuzzled into his tight embrace and shivered as he felt her inhale the scent of her hair.

“You smell amazing, Iris,” he murmured.

She chuckled and pulled back.

“What’s with all the compliments, huh?”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t seen you in a month. I’m allowed to say a couple nice things, aren’t I?”

She smirked at that.

“I guess.”

She stepped back and closed the door behind him.

“Carissa’s gone for the weekend, so the other bed is all yours. I’ll wash her sheets and stuff before she gets back on Monday, so you should be good. Just don’t wet the bed or anything.” She chuckled nervously, scolding herself again.

“Iris.” His face beat bright red.

“You want to get something to eat?” she asked, knowing that would perk him up. He was a teenage boy after all – always hungry.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

“Excellent. I can give you a mini tour on the way. I mean, I know you got a tour when you were looking at schools, but this will be my tour, so-”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, cutting her off.

He didn’t know why she sounded as nervous as he felt, but he figured the jitters would be past them in no time. They had three days to get comfortable with one another again, though he doubted it would take that long. They were the best of friends. Always had been.

“Right. So, this way…”

She opened the door again, snatching the key and locking up after they were in the hall. They started chatting about what was new and how their studies and extra curriculars were going. By the time they’d seen a few things and were sitting down with their food in the cafeteria, everything was pretty much back to normal. They both ate more than usual, but it gave them something to do that wasn’t talking, and it was a way of channeling out any remaining nerves.

When Barry was done, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked over at her doing the same.

“What should we do tonight? Play a game? Watch a movie? Or…go out somewhere?”

“Well, no car, so we can’t go far, but I did recently learn how to play poker from some friends of mine, and-”

Barry groaned.

“Iris, no. Something simple. I don’t know how to play poker, and honestly, I don’t want to learn. Not this weekend at least.”

She pouted but moved past that mild disappointment.

“Uno then? I know you like that.”

He smiled hesitantly.

“Okay, I could do that.”

“And when we’re done, we can plug in a movie or go for a walk. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

Iris smiled to herself.

She’d keep the most crucial element of their little game to herself until it was too late for her bestie to back out of it. It was better that way. And more successful.

…

“Strip Uno?!” Barry proclaimed, scandalized by the very idea.

Iris’ pout deepened as she set her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, it’ll make things interesting.”

“Is this because I won’t play poker?” he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow.

“In part. But Barry, you never do anything risky. My dad’s not around, and you already drove all this way without telling him – I assume?” She waited, and he nodded. “See, that was only the beginning of your adventures. You’re sleeping on a girls-only floor tonight…”

He groaned. “Iris.”

“And I have something to show you, but we have to play the strip version of this game in order for you to see it.”

He turned a bright red.

“Iris, I don’t know if I want t-”

“Oh, trust me, you want to.”

His face turned even redder.

Did she know something he thought he’d hidden so well?

She gripped his arms, forcing him to look at her.

“Barry, it’s just us. And we’re best friends, you and me.” She paused, a little concerned now and deciding to play the guilty card. “Aren’t we?” Her pout deepened.

He sighed and groaned simultaneously.

“Ugh. Yes. Fiiiiine.”

“Yes!” She cheered, bouncing up on her tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, leaving him briefly stunned.

“Where are we even going to play this though? I mean, it’s not like there’s a ta-”

As if by magic, Iris turned around and pulled out a TV table to put between the two beds.

“This will work. Right?”

He nodded. “I guess so.”

“Yes, it will.”

She grinned and sat on her bed as a chair. He pulled the other bed away from the wall enough to do the same thing. After shuffling the cards that Iris pulled out of her desk’s side drawer, she dealt out the piles of seven, and the game began.

Within a few rounds, Barry had zeroed in on the game and wasn’t paying attention to the nerves that had seemingly consumed him earlier. All was going as planned. He’d all but forgotten there was a strip element to the game, because it hadn’t come up, and Iris hadn’t said anything.

Until that draw-four card appeared in his hand, and he used it against her.

He grinned cheekily, waiting for her to draw her four cards, but she was smiling back in an almost sinister way that made his smile disappear entirely.

“What?” he asked.

“Okay, so the way strip part of this game is incorporated-”

“Oh, Jesus, I totally forgot.” He ran his hand over his face, and she chuckled.

“Is…”

“Yes?”

“That whenever a draw-four card is put down, the other person has to draw four cards, but they also have to remove a piece of clothing or jewelry. This also works when someone has only one card and says uno – the other person has to remove something.”

He frowned.

“But I’m not wearing any jewelry.”

“Good thing it’s my turn first then,” she said, unhooking the hoop earrings she’d put on just an hour or so earlier and setting them on the bed behind her.

She picked her four cards, found one that would match the card lying face-up on the table and laid it down.

The game continued.

By the time Barry got his first draw-four card directed at him, he’d nearly convinced himself it wouldn’t happen. He was grateful then that he’d worn socks that day. He only wished he’d kept his shoes on till now.

“Eww.” Iris pretended to gag at the new scent invading the room. “I better open a window.”

He scoffed.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Should’ve taken off your shirt.”

“That is that bad,” he muttered, and she rolled her eyes.

He’d always been self-conscious about his chest and torso, and she’d never understood why. Sure, he wasn’t muscular, but she kind of liked the lean look on him. She only hoped one day he’d grow to like it as well.

At Iris’ next draw-four, she wasn’t nearly so skittish. She immediately started to lift her t-shirt up over her head.

Barry had been so stunned at the move that he didn’t even notice the stud poking out of her belly button – at first.

“See anything interesting?” she teased, referring to the piercing, but Barry’s eyes were glued to the slight cleavage poking out of her bra.

“Uh…I-”

When Iris realized, it was her face that flushed a hint of color.

“Lower, Barry,” she murmured.

“Huh? Oh…right. Sorry, I- Is that a…” He jolted upward. “Iris, you got a belly button ring?!”

“Stud, actually, but yeah. You like it?” She turned to the side, so he could see it jutting out better.

“Joe is gonna kill you.”

She frowned, her brows narrowing.

“Well, we’re not going to tell him right away then, are we?”

He paled.

“Nope.” He shook his head and zipped his lips. “Mm-mm.”

She relaxed some.

“Good. Because I really like it.” She hesitated for a second. “Do you?”

He took a good look at it, focused so hard on it and not the fact that it was so close to her panty line and just below the gentle heaving of her breasts. He licked his lips.

“Well?”

He looked up and answered honestly.

“It is kinda sexy, Iris.”

She didn’t know why, but that made her mouth go dry. Their eyes locked, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she saw Barry differently in that moment. His tousled hair and deep green eyes, the way he towered over her, the gentle curve of his lips.

She swallowed hard and did her best to move past the moment.

“That’s what I thought.” She beamed – or tried to, then sat back down. “Okay.” She put down a card. “Your turn.”

Back and forth they went until Barry’s shirt and pants were off, and Iris’ had come off too. Barry hesitated as much as he could, but there was no denying what was in his hand.

He sighed heavily and let the word spill out.

“Uno.”

Iris swallowed and started to lower her panties over the curve of her ass.

Barry could barely breathe. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do this, even if it was just them. She had to be uncomfortable by it. The last thing he wanted was for her to be uncomfortable. But he couldn’t speak. All the wild emotions he felt for her and had felt for her since the moment he met her raged with all the hormones of a teenage boy. He was on fire for her, and his mouth and tongue and brain had stopped functioning.

Iris kicked her panties off to the side and closed the blinds on her sole window, despite the fact that they were a few floors up. Then she picked a few cards and put one down.

Barry had to draw again.

A few rounds later, it was Iris who called out ‘uno’, making Barry panic.

“I only have my underwear on, Iris,” he mumbled.

“It’s just me, Barry. And I won’t look.” She covered her eyes with her hands, and it gave him the courage to stand up and pull his boxers down, so that he was completely nude.

Swallowing hard, he started to sit down again when he noticed that her fingers had parted over her eyes and were zeroed in on his semi-erect cock visible just above the table.

He wanted to yell at her to look away, that she had promised not to look, that she couldn’t say a word if it looked as awful as he felt it did, and how in the world could they ever come back from this?

But his mouth was dry, and his tongue was thick and heavy, and he couldn’t speak.

Iris got up, rounded the table and wrapped her arms behind her body to unlatch her bra, much to his shock and confusion. When she couldn’t get it, she turned around, swooped her hair over the front of her shoulder and requested he help her.

“Unhook it, Barry.” She inhaled and exhaled. “Please.”

With trembling fingers, Barry unhooked her bra and helped her move it down her arms and onto the floor.

“It wasn’t your turn,” he somehow managed to say when she turned around, spellbound once her bare breasts were in view.

“I don’t care.”

Their eyes locked, and she pulled his face down to hers, kissing him swiftly, deeply, sticking her tongue into his mouth and making him moan.

The momentum was enough to send him tumbling back onto the other bed and gripping her tightly, so she wouldn’t tumble away from him. Not that she would try. She was as desperate to hang onto him as he was her.

“Rock my world, Barry Allen,” she murmured, laying kisses down his neck.

He didn’t know how he was going to, virgin and all, but somehow, he nodded and muttered, “Okay,” and left it at that.

It’d be one hell of a night.

[microfinanseer]

This is the week. Butterflies in my stomach as we head off in a few days back to Seattle. We'll be there for a short visit running some errands, catching up with friends, and exchanging some stuff in storage so we can go on the next leg of our pushing-our-boundaries tour.

So much growth to discuss, and still so much to process after this adventure. This is the longest I and we (as a couple) have been on the road away from home. We made our first trip together backpacking in several countries in Europe in 1994. Since then, we have regularly traveled to many other places in the world--usually not for more than a few weeks at a time, however. I've also done some solo travel over the years, which I highly recommend. In the U.K. when I considered graduate school there in 1997, I made my way for a month through parts of England and Scotland I had only read about in literature and seen in the movies. And then for two months in 2007, I went across New Zealand, Tahiti, with a few days in Sydney, Australia while my partner made his way through law school. I felt one of us being tortured in that experience [law school] was enough [half joking]. I wanted to see more of the world.

On this trip, too, I know I've changed. I just am not sure yet I recognize all the ways that's true for me. Often I realize my growth after traveling months later in the course of everyday things in a more everyday routine I develop again. Travel changes you. Period. You can't help it. You appreciate locations, yes. But more deeply you appreciate people, cultures, and how little separates us and how much unites us in our life's experiences and dreams. As I've said for years, rush hour is ultimately the same everywhere you go. By that I mean, that while the look of it differs, what it represents for everyone in the world is the same. We're all just trying to survive, make a living, and find happiness for ourselves and our families everyday we can.

My first thoughts after this trip are that in some ways, my travel has reinforced and more strongly encouraged me to live the values I've had all along. I'm reminded of what is actually most important for my happiness and well-being. No matter our age and life experience, it's good to keep track of what is our soul's fuel--of what motivates and diminishes our spirit.

I've also paid a lot more attention to what I find important in a place to live--not just the city or country, but the actual physical space we are lucky to call home. Whether a house, duplex, or apartment, with outdoor gardens, city views, or patios in either the scorching, humid heat or arid, cool mountainous desert, I've been in all kinds of spaces during these past six months. So many that I think I have a solid idea of what makes me happy to be in a home.

The photos I'm sharing in this post are of some designs that caught my eye in Mexico. When I spotted these shots before taking them, I noticed something I'm calling "space moods"--though they have more scientific theories and nomenclature grounded in psychology and design. When I noticed how the design elements of color, texture, light, form, and function made me feel in these places, I snapped a picture to help me recall. The one aspect that photographs can't capture is the delicious scent you notice in your favorite home spaces--from the material of the furniture, the covers of the books on shelves, the plants and flowers around, the ambience set by incense and candles inside, and the outside air wafting in through open windows, etc. And if you know me well, then you know how much "smell" matters to me. It's actually a very important sense for all of us for a lot of reasons.

I haven't decided yet how much I will keep blogging after I get back. I'll have different adventures, to be sure, but my focus day-to-day will shift and I don't know how much I will have to share. It's time to finish up the book, find interest to publish it, and get into a new routine back home. I'll keep my blog, and when inspiration hits I will follow it and post. Until then, thanks for accompanying me on this book writing journey and stay tuned.

Best wishes...

[wordsofcleo]

The Day The Music Died

The Day The Music Died…

What we had was a symphonic language, a melody A beat to a drum and a rhythm of glee

The kind of sweet tune tune that heals pain and brings light to dark,

Much like the hum of the sea -

Silencing everything around it for miles; the noisy commute of every day hushed up by a chaotic calm of the crashing waves. 

Much like the hum of the sea - 

A mass that stretches for miles, far beyond what my eyes can see, and I wonder what is out there. I used to think of how long it would take to sail away, but with you, no longer.

Much like the hum of the sea - 

As we listen to the waves pouncing onto the shore, our hearts are collected and calm, and I describe what I see as you listen with your ears. A piece of my life I grieve over; perhaps I didn’t realize until now that describing what was right in front of us was something that came naturally to me, something that was a norm because of my father figure. Describing a world to him in which he could not see, but I could. “My eyes”, he would say. I didn’t realize that there was somehow a piece of him in you and that makes it harder. Being his daughter trained me for the day that I met you. To be able to be the person I needed to be for you. Your eyes. 

We were the sweetest symphony,

The kind that lifts your soul higher than ever before The kind that breaks down your walls and reveals your core. 

The sweet happy emotions that music can bring… The hot feeling of blood rushing faster in your chest or the ride down from a rollercoaster. The smell of grandma’s jelly biscuits first thing in the morning, the scent of nature when it rains, the feeling of seeing someone you love after not seeing them for a long time…

All feelings that are like a sweet, harmonious tune to take you higher. 

You took me higher. 

We were a treble cleff. Harmony. 

You took me as I am, and I took you,

Though the distance was long, we were prepared through and through.

There was no mountain high enough, and no valley low,

You were the one for me, oh the places I’d go. 

Every touch to your arm, every kiss to your lips, every stroke of your hair, every grab to my hips

The music went on. 

Every song that we sang, every dance that we danced, the music was a background noise to our memories. 

You said that hearing Queen on the radio made you think of me, and I said that one country song made me think of you. Each of us hearing music in two separate states that remind us of each other, the memories that await. 

You and I were jazz - just rhythm, no blues. I still remember learning all of your sweet cues. The way that your nose brushed against my cheek or my ear, though it tickled, it showed you were near. The kiss that followed was always so sweet, my heart then feeling a particular heat. Just like music, it goes on and on and on. It changes, it flows, but it never truly goes. Its volume can lower and a tune can need rest, but at the end of the day, some music will always be best. Music may leave us for some spurts of our lives

Maybe we can’t listen, or maybe it dies. 

One thing is for sure, it’s never too long,

Music always comes back, and music is strong. It may be a dark time in life and tunes don’t seem so right,

But just give it time and some counted nights, it will come back, some music is for life.

The day that we met was the best kind of song. One that neither of us will ever forget. 

Your heart beat like a drum, so fast and so steady. At the end of that day, you’d asked if I was ready -

To be yours. 

I’d never felt so full of knowing. You were the one, all signs showing. 

I’ll never forget the fortune cookie that I got just prior to that day,

“Take that chance you’ve been considering.”

I took a chance on you, you took a chance on me, it was a strong love, our hearts were finally set free. 

We all have a cup, some empty, some full. Though mine was just right, you somehow filled my cup like the salt water fills the ocean. You poured love and happiness into my life like never before. And I poured into yours. We were two flowers that sprouted up even higher than we had thought imaginable. Love is beautiful. Love is healing. Love is light. You quenched a thirst that I didn’t even know I had. I thought that I knew love, but I had no idea until I met you. There were so many beautiful things that we had that I had never experienced before. The inspiring, motivating, and encouraging each other every day. Sharing our daily activities and lifting each other up throughout the day. Laughing, so much laughing! So much positivity! Never a dull moment, never any negativity! Not rushing to do things or going for the wrong things. Never. Instead, taking a healthy and respectable time for one another, as it should be. Loving each other enough to protect and respect fully. Adventuring together. Dancing, laughing, singing, exploring, being vulnerable together, crying together, smiling together, holding each other, sweet surprises, kindhearted and wholesome messages all of the time to let each other know how we truly felt inside of our hearts and souls. 

As you said, “True love never dies.” 

And then one day, the music died. 

You were right. True love never dies, but the music did. 

Where is my sweet symphony? Where is my velvet tune, so soft and silky that I could touch it with my own fingers? Better yet, where is the other half to my treble clef? 

Though I am a whole woman proudly so, there is now a hallow piece inside. I am now a half note instead of a whole. I am no longer part of a treble clef. The music died. 

Every day, I listen for you. I hear you speaking to me, but not through music; for those songs I can no longer listen to without my heart breaking further. I hear you saying, “You know the truth. You know the story. Please wait for me. Don’t give up.” 

How long must I wait before the music comes back to life? How long?

She sits on a porch step so late in the night,

The air was still and empty, the moon shining and bright. 

Memories flood her mind and a smile approaches her face

She tells herself that she can wait as long as needed, this is no race. 

It may be a while, and she will go on to live her life, but she will wait. 

True love never dies. And love always wins.

Looking out towards the north, she feels a string connecting herself and another. No matter how long they’ve been apart, it still remains. There is no doubt that it will always be connected and never severed. 

On her darkest days, she may cry and break down, but it just takes some time and she will adjust her crown. She knows who she is and where her heart lies. Though there is plenty of evil in this world that want to steal happiness and tear love apart, the truth will always be revealed. Karma will always be served. God will handle everything in God’s time. 

Genesis 4:  You cannot hide injustice. It will surface sooner than later. What is done in the dark in the countryside or in the closet will eventually come to light.

Luke 12:2-3 2 For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known. 3 Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops.

Would you go with me if we rolled down streets of fire? Would you hold on to me tighter as the summer sun got higher? If we roll from town to town and never shut it down Would you go with me if we were lost in fields of clover? Would we walk even closer until the trip was over? And would it be okay if I didn't know the way? If I gave you my hand, would you take it And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea Let me know if you're really a dream I love you so, so would you go with me? Would you go with me if we rode the clouds together? Could you not look down forever If you were lighter than a feather Oh, and if I set you free, would you go with me? If I gave you my hand, would you take it And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea Help me tie up the ends of a dream I gotta know, would you go with me? I love you so, so would you go with me?

-Cleo 4/28/2023 The day the music died: 4/10/2023

[script-nef]

anything involving rick flag and smut. please. i’m starving out here.

Warning: 18+/smut, hickeys, thigh riding, teasing, desk sex, cum eating A/N: hi, my middle name is "depraved", nice to meet you. hope this is up to your expectations!

There’s just something so comforting about being near Rick. It might be the fact that he envelopes you perfectly with hugs, bends down to place kisses on your face, grips your hand with tender gentleness and whispers I love you just before falling asleep. That’s why it’s always so hard when he goes away for months, no calls or texts as they can be intercepted, just the pre-sending-away sex and his clothes for you to take. A couple of days are okay, a week is manageable but the rare month-long separations are worse.

But the worst is when he’s back home, inside the house and a hand’s reach away but neglects you for work.

Neglect might be a strong word. He’s not doing it on purpose, not really. Just that he likes to get things over and done with so it doesn’t nag him from the back of his head. But it does mean that he holes himself up in the study, shuffling through thick stacks of paper and scribbling info into thousands of boxes. For hours on end. While you fiddle with your phone on an empty and cold bed, eyes glued onto the time and watching it change so goddamn slowly.

It finally turns into nine oh one, and you’re fucking done. Shrugging out of the nightgown, you scour the wardrobe for his shirts, one of the button-ups that cover half your thighs and reach well-past your fingertips. A couple of buttons off the top so that he can see the start of your cleavage. Then, after a second of contemplation in front of the mirror, you slide off your panties and chuck them into the laundry bin. For extra insurance the plan works.

“Rick?” He’s hunched over a file with only the lamplight on. You’ve told him off about how that would ruin his vision but he still does it, claiming it’s more comfortable. You shut the door behind you, silently making your way to his side even though he doesn’t raise his head.

“Nearly done. Just wait a bit, sweetheart.” The low rumble of his voice makes you tingle, the electric feeling shooting to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“That’s what you said an hour ago…” Hints of petulance tinge your words, trying to subtly guilt him into compliance. The scratching of the pen stops momentarily, making your heart soar, but then start right back up again. Your fingers tighten around his shirt sleeve. “Fine. But I’m going to stay right here and you can’t say shit.”

“Sweetheart—” You clamber onto his lap, ignoring the hitch in his breathing as he finally notices what you’re wearing, and plant yourself firmly on one of his thighs. Even wiggle your hips a bit to drive in the message that you’re staying there until he moves. “Fuck, what are you wearing—” You kiss to silence him, arms coiling around his neck and knees digging into the chair.

“Well, you were off for so long, and I got so lonely. Your clothes smell like you so I always sleep in them. And since you weren’t coming to bed…” He releases a groan at your overtly sultry voice and kisses you back, nipping at your lips and tongue trying to slip into your mouth. But you close it shut and lean back, eyelashes fluttering in faux innocence. His face crinkles in confusion, eyebrows tensing together, and it takes all you have to not laugh, lest you give away your plan. “I understand, your work is important and you need to finish this. I’ll just wait here and we can go to sleep when you’re done, right?” The added head tilt makes him close his mouth and nod stiffly, a hand placed on the small of your back to keep you in place. Maybe not the best choice for him because at this proximity you can smell his cologne, woody and familiar, and the scent never fails to make you horny. You can feel your slick pooling into the spot on his pants, leaving a damp patch where your sex directly meets his thigh.

You place your head on the crook of his neck, humming a tune and playing with strands of his hair. He stays still for a while, making sure that you’re not up to anything, then starts writing again. Without pause. You peek a glance back and see him reaching for more paper from a stack, shifting his position slightly to work around you.

You ground your hips down to his leg, rubbing the lips of your pussy on the fabric of his pants with the slightest moan peeking out of your mouth at how good it feels after so fucking long. His thigh is so thick and firm from all the hours of training, feels so good against your aching core. Rick freezes instantly, the hand on the small of your back clenching the shirt now, making the tails of it ride up to expose your bare sex. He takes one look at it and plants his forehead on yours, curses flinging out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to distract you… I’ll behave.” A glare of fuck, what are you doing to me is shot your way which you reflect with a sweet smile, playing with the buttons on his collar. Picking them open and baring the tanned skin underneath, clean of marks because it’s been weeks. “C’mon, you said ‘nearly done’. I wanna go to sleep with you.” You finish off with a light peck on his lips and a nod towards the pile of work, encouraging him to get to it. There’s a slight tremble in his hand, like he’s just barely restraining himself. He’s so easy, so pliant underneath you.

You latch onto the skin of his neck as soon as he starts again, sucking marks of red and orange onto the skin and slide up his leg, leaving a trail of your arousal in its wake. His hand moves to clamp down on your ass, locking you into place so that you can’t reach his hips, his cock that’s stirring to life. His growl of stop is drowned under your groans as you rut against him, your clit catching onto the cloth and the friction inching you towards your climax. You can feel it bubbling under your skin, the warm and itchy sensation reaching out everywhere, just one more rub and you’ll finally get what you want.

You’re hoisted into the air, your high ripped away from your grasp, and your ass connects with the desk, right on top of Rick’s work. He’s looming over you when you look up, face hidden in the shadows with chest heaving up and down, one hand gripping your waist and the other holding a broken pen. He slants his still-clothed hips into yours without a word, soaking the front of his pants and making you gasp.

He’s hard when you take him out, thick with precum oozing from the tip, dripping down his length and onto your clit. A shiver runs up your back. You try to hold his hand but he slams your upper body down to the desk, spine connecting with the wood, sending everything clattering to the floor, and sheathes himself inside you with one stroke. Your squeals and cries go ignored as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder to drive in further, to make sure that every single inch of him is pulling you apart. The head of his cock catches every sensitive spot that he knows from countless practices, making you mewl and writhe within his grasp.

“God, baby, did you get tighter while I was gone?”

There’s nothing in the room except the wet slaps of your bodies connecting over and over, your moans that spill out between kisses. Your fingers can barely find purchase on his shoulder at how roughly he’s thrusting into you and hitting all the correct spots, just flailing around uselessly and jelly-like. Electricity sparks across your skin as the shirt rips apart and your nipples brush against his chest, hardening with each contact. He rubs on the nub of your clit, pinching the bundle of nerves and making your toes curl and insides contract. It just makes you feel him that much more, every snap of his hips digging in deeper and taking up extra space that you can barely give. Finally, you pulse around him, keening into his mouth through the blank whiteness of your orgasm because the scraping of his blunt nails against your clit along with his cock that’s making a new home inside of you is too fucking much.

He pulls himself out just in time, the splatters of his seeds hitting the desk and papers crumpled underneath your thighs. Uneven gasps take over the room, the both of you coming down from your highs and back into your bodies. He notices the ink smudging his writing away while you’re blinking the spots away, trying to hear something other than just your heartbeat. Globs of cum decorate your hips, sliding down and staining the desk. You catch a strip of it with your finger, pooling it together until it drips down and into your awaiting mouth.

“Fuck, baby, you’re going to be the death of me.” The chair slams into the wall as he strides towards the bedroom, foot thudding on the wooden floor with you in his arms and you’re still boneless, just the twitches for now. And you have a feeling you’re not going to get control over your limbs anytime soon, not with him making sure the mattress has your body carved into it.

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

for the 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 collab <3

summary: you've always been fond of your step-brother, jean, despite how much he tries to avoid spending time with you. he finally reaches his breaking point when he sees you talking to eren, though.

warnings: step-cest, slight manipulation (reader), possessive behavior, teasing + edging, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, rough sex, creampie, jean is a good boy and reader is a fiend

author's note: i hope everyone likes this!!! i'm thinking about creating a step-cest series, let me know who should be next! tagging the lovely @yeagerslut & sending a big thank you for creating this collab! <3

Jean can never really peel his eyes away from you, no matter how hard he tries. At first it was subtle glances, like staring at the exposed skin of your supple thighs from his place beside his mom, when she was first introducing you and your father to him.

His first thought, besides the fact that it’ll be nice to have a sibling in the house with him every once in a while, is that your dress is incredibly short. So short that he wonders how you’re allowed to leave the house in something like that. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let you, that’s for sure.

He quickly remembers that it’s not up to him, and that it’s not his place to be worrying about the length of your hem. Jean tries to suppress the strange, sudden burning feeling in his chest when he thinks about you wearing something as short as that when he has his friends over. No, that won’t be allowed.

He’ll have to tell someone about it, at some point, because he can’t stand the unusual jealousy he feels stirring at the idea of one of his friends looking at you while you’re wearing that.

His thoughts are cut short when his mother tells you two to get acquainted, while your dad and her head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Jean almost doesn’t want them to leave, doesn’t want to be left alone with you and those legs and that dress, but he doesn’t have any say in the matter.

Your first words to your new step-brother are carefully calculated. In fact, you've been deciding everything carefully. The way you did your hair, the dress you’ve chosen that’s much too short for a family dinner but it’s not like someone can stop you, even the pink lip gloss you reapplied in the car before entering the house. Everything has its purpose, its place, with one goal in mind: see how long it takes for Jean to crack.

“I’m so excited to finally have a big brother, Jean!” you let out in a cheerful, chirpy voice that doesn’t match your insidious thoughts at all. You close the bridge separating you two with a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug.

It’s so sudden, so unforeseen that he stumbles a little, letting his tall figure be pulled by your efforts and arms wrapping around your waist for support. And before he knows it, the sweet smell of your perfume is invading all his senses and leaving him with nothing to think about except you.

He takes it all in, the lingering scent of shampoo in your hair, something fruity, he thinks off-hand, the feel of your soft skin on the back of his neck, your cheek against his, but especially the way your breasts feel against his chest.

He pulls away before you want him to, and you begrudgingly allow him to, recognizing what a challenge it’ll be. But you’re always up for a challenge.

The first few months pass by in the blink of an eye for you, and dragging on and on for him. Jean tries to avoid interactions with you since that first meeting, but it’s hard to when you’re living in the same house as him. Even harder when your bedroom is right next to his, his mother offering up his assistance to help you move boxes and get settled while she and her new husband go out to dinner.

It’s ridiculous, the way he flushes bright red when he opens boxes and suitcases filled with clothing he doesn’t want to look at, all short skirts and sun-dresses and delicate panties that he tries and fails not to stare at.

You keep your gaze away, knowing exactly which suitcase you had given him to unpack, while you organize books on the shelves of the room and sort knick-knacks.

“Won’t it be nice sharing a wall?” you comment, adjusting a frame on your nightstand and not meeting Jean’s eyes. “I think it’ll be fun to have you so close.”

Jean chokes on the water he was drinking, gasping for air and trying to process your words all at once, when you finally turn around and smile. A smile that he thinks should be illegal, given the way it’s innocence personified when you’re actually a little devil.

He leaves a little bit after that, calling out that he’s not hungry when you knock on his door for dinner, but you don’t miss the way he sounds breathless, or the panties missing from your drawers.

Every challenge gets easier, right?

It doesn’t take long for your behavior to get a little out of hand, especially when the two of you have so much alone time together. Your parents are gone all the time, frequenting dinner parties and double dates, and not coming back until late at night.

Jean tries his best to keep away. While he had once been the friend whose house was always available for sleepovers, movie nights, and the like, he was now keeping everyone away. Every time your parents’ car left the driveway, Jean followed suit, either hopping into Connie’s Jeep or walking the short distance to Sasha’s place and leaving you alone.

He was hoping no one would notice, but of course someone did, and of course that someone was Eren.

“We can’t do my place again,” Sasha says, absentmindedly reaching for the bag of chips which Connie yanks out of her reach. “My dad’s having people over.” A swat to the back of Connie’s head gets her back the snack quickly.

“How come we can’t do Jean’s place like usual?” Eren asks, reclining back in his seat and enjoying the panicked expression on Jean’s face. “There something wrong with that new sister of yours?” Jean chokes back a cough.

“No.”

“Does she always have friends over, or something?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled,” Eren says, bringing his hands together. “Jean’s place it is.” Shit, Jean. Better come up with something quick.

“We- we can’t do my place!” he sputters out much too loudly, meeting the gaze of every person in the room.

“Any reason why, Jean-bo?” Eren asks.

“I- we- what if she’s not okay with having a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots sleeping over?” Shitty, but it’s the best he can think of when he’s so concerned with keeping everyone away from you.

If you behave like that with parents in the house, how are you gonna behave with his friends around? He doesn’t wanna take the chance to find out.

“How about you call and ask, dumb-ass?” Connie suggests, shoving his phone at him and waiting with a confused look. Jean lets out a defeated sigh, knowing how this phone call will go.

Your loud, chirpy “I’m perfectly fine with that, silly! I’ve been waiting to meet your friends..” can be heard through the phone and answers Eren’s question.

Jean searches for a reason, any reason really, to keep this sleepover from happening, but realizes that he’s failed miserably when all his friends appear, clad with pillows and overnight bags, on his front door. “So,” Eren begins, with a wolfish grin on his face that Jean wants to punch right off, “Where’s the sister? It’s only polite to say hi, right?”

As if you’d been waiting for the cue, you poke your head out from the living room, that very same innocent and sweet smile gracing your face.

“Hi,” you, stepping out to greet his friends in the foyer. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Jean immediately regrets the fact that he never had that conversation with you about the length of your dresses. It always sat in the back of his head somewhere, though it was incredibly easy to dismiss when you would come sit next to him on the couch, dress riding up frequently and exposing more skin that he somehow always found himself entranced by.

Today the dress of choice is yellow, and though it does, in fact, cover everything it needs to, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination either. Jean almost feels like a schoolboy again, blushing at exposed shoulders and thighs, but he can’t help it when you’re clinging right to his side as you greet his friends.

“I’m Eren-”

“Hi, I’m Connie-”

“Ignore these two, I’m Sasha-” All meet each other at once. You let out a laugh at your step-brother’s funny friends, glancing up to see his expression, but all you see are signs of anger. Your smile dims a little, but picks right back at up when you notice the way Eren looks at you, and the way Jean looks at Eren.

A plan is working itself into creation in your head before you can help it, deviousness taking a hold on you as you smile brightly in favor of Eren over Jean. Your step-brother’s been keeping his distance all this time, but you’re about ready to force his hand.

You don’t miss the way Jean’s jaw tightens, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he guides the group to the living room. Your original plan changes quickly, following them into the space and taking your usual place on the couch as you scan the various video games laid out.

“Eren, will you sit with me?” you ask in a gentle tone, one that Jean is all too familiar with. “I don’t know this game, can I watch you play first?”

“Don’t you have work to do, or something?” Jean blurts out without thinking, his only thought centered around getting you out of the room and as far away as he can.

“What work? It’s summer,” you reply, watching your step-brother’s cheeks turn red.

You’re not helping matters for Jean, as he watches Eren sit where he usually does, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. He doesn’t think he could get more angry, until he notices Eren’s hand move to your knee, squeezing quickly but lingering entirely too long. There must be steam coming out of Jean’s ears at this point, watching this interaction between you two.

“Yeah, Jean, she can stick around to watch. Anything for your little sister, right?” “I’m not that much younger than you guys, you know,” you reply with a laugh, adjusting your position on the sofa and purposefully lifting the skirt of your dress for a second before letting it settle. If someone were looking, which both Jean and Eren were, they’d catch a glimpse of black panties, and they both did.

Jean is seeing red now, standing up without realizing why, ready to yank Yeager away from you, when the doorbell rings again. It stops Jean in his tracks. “That must be Marco,” Sasha reminds, looking up from the games to glance at Jean with confusion. “Aren’t you gonna go get that?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll be right back.” Jean locks eyes with you as he leaves the room, and you dejectedly sigh, leaning away from Eren. It’s no fun to mess around with another guy if Jean’s not there to see.

He guides Marco into the living room, and you greet him with a quick smile before giving your full attention back to Eren.

The next few hours are fun for you, and unbearable for Jean. Every time he spared a glance to you, you were pouring over Eren, asking questions about the game and insisting on clarification, leaning in much too close and supporting yourself on his shoulder as he explained another trivial rule to you.

Jean didn’t like any of it, not the way you laughed sweetly and played with your hair while talking to Eren, not the way your legs were on display and Eren’s sleazy hands kept finding its way back to them, none of it. What he couldn’t stand, though, was how you didn’t shy away from his touch and found any and every way to keep it going.

He’s at his limit when you go to your bedroom after dinner to change into pajamas, knowing what to expect from your nightwear. If he’s lucky, you’ll pick a big t-shirt and shorts, but he’s seen first-hand the silky slips and cotton sets you prefer to sleep in.

Jean doesn’t think he can handle the look on Eren’s face if you come down the stairs wearing one of those, so he lets his anger do the thinking for a minute when the others are fighting over snacks and who gets the couch versus the floor.

Eren’s waiting near the bottom of the stairs, looking at something on his phone when Jean approaches and glances quickly to make sure you’re still in your room.

“You better knock it off, Yeager, I’m serious,” he says, trying to contain his anger and keep his voice down. His words come out in a low grumble that he barely recognizes, body stiff and trying his best to intimidate Eren. It doesn’t seem to be working. “Knock off what?” Eren questions nonchalantly, amused that his suspicions were proving to be correct. Looks like Jean had a little thing for his step-sister after all.

Jean’s eyes unwittingly flit to the top of the stairs again, before he forces his gaze back to Eren, but the quick gesture isn’t missed by his so-called friend.

“Oh, I see. You want me to stop being so buddy-buddy with your step-sister, huh? You better tell that to her first, you know. She’s been all over me since the minute I met her.”

The sly smirk playing on his lips only makes Jean want to cave his face in all the more.

“You better watch it, you son of a-” Eren clicks his tongue to interrupt Jean.

“Come on now, Jean, you can’t really expect me to stop. I mean, it’s not like she’s my sister, right?” Eren says, with a strange look in his eyes as though he was tempting Jean to blow his cover.

Eren walks away to rejoin everyone in the living room, leaving Jean seething by the stairs and you in your bedroom, pressed against the door and clinging onto every word.

All night you had known Jean was getting agitated by your constant flirting and touchiness with Eren, but he hadn’t been close to cracking, or so it seemed. The fact that he even confronted Eren had your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if tonight might finally be the chance you had been waiting for. You hear Jean’s heavy foot steps walk away, and you decide that it’s all or nothing, now.

You leave your room and close the door gently, dressed in a pink camisole and shorts that were sure to get Eren’s attention for long enough for Jean to finally crack.

Just as you began the descent down the stairs, you heard footsteps coming back and were greeted with Jean at the foot of the stairs.

The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before, something entirely different from the reserved, hesitant Jean you had gotten so used to.

No, this Jean was someone else, a mix of want and desire and shame pooling in his pretty eyes, looking at you as though you were the prey he had finally cornered.

Before you know it, Jean is in your bedroom and your back is pressed against the door roughly as his lips stay on yours and refuse to pull away. His tongue is hot in your mouth, and his hands feel as though they’re burning your skin with the heat they are radiating, groping your ass and the soft skin of your back as he explores your body. All the things he’d wanted to do for these last few months, that he’d forced himself to repress, finally coming out.

You moan into Jean’s mouth at the sudden feel of his hands on your tits, grabbing blindly and pinching your nipple roughly and suddenly, causing the moan to turn into a loud squeal. Jean clasps his free hand over your mouth.

“Shh, now,” he begins, staring into your eyes and making your core heat up uncomfortably as you realize your little challenge was finally over. You feel the wetness between your legs growing, pussy throbbing just at seeing Jean be so dominant for once. “We don't want anyone to hear, do we?”

You shake your head quickly to answer his question, having completely forgotten about the multiple guests just a floor away. You expect Jean to pull away, to tell you that he’ll take care of you after they’re all gone, some other time, but he doesn’t.

He pulls his hand away and leads two fingers to your mouth, guiding them into your willing mouth, latching your lips around them and sucking while swirling your tongue, getting them wet as he wanted.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this? Huh? Since the day I met you, that’s how long. And you’re such a fucking tease all the time, you know how unbearable it's been?” Jean says in a deep voice, his eyes observing your mouth continuing its work. You moan around his fingers, wanting to speak but no words come out.

He pulls his fingers away and leads them straight to your throbbing pussy, running one up and down your slit teasingly as you hold back a loud moan.

“P-please, Jean, please do something, I- oh!” Jean shoves the two digits into your tight hole without any warning at all, causing your whole body to shake at the sudden fullness.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, you dirty slut? You wanted your big brother to get fed up and fuck you senseless, didn’t you? Say it,” he orders, fingers pumping in and out and his hand grazing your clit with every motion, causing you to moan as your body tenses. You can hardly process his words because of the pleasure you’re feeling, but his other hand finding your throat brings you back quickly.

“Say it. I won’t ask again.”

“Y-yes, Jean, I-I wanted big brother to fuck me, oh, yes-” You lose your thoughts again as his pace increases, making you squeal again before you clamp your mouth shut to make sure no one hears you. Your stomach is tensing and you know you’re so, so close, one more touch from Jean would have your orgasm washing over you like lightening spreading through your body, when he suddenly stops.

You gasp loudly at the sudden emptiness, feeling your orgasm dissipate as you buck up and clamp down against nothing at all. Jean’s fingers are in his mouth, tasting your wetness as you try to catch your breath and protest against the way he’s teasing you, but your pleas are met by deaf ears.

“Jean,” you moan desperately, clinging to his shoulders, “please, please, let me cum, please-”

“No. Filthy sluts that mess around with their big brother’s friends don’t get to cum,” he says gruffly, as you whine again and try to release yourself from his tight grip. It’s useless since he has you caged in, firm hands on your waist dragging you to the bed and throwing you on top of the soft covers.

“Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, using your sweetest voice and big. teary eyes to win Jean over, but it’s still useless.

“I said no,” he repeats, hovering over you and his hands finding their way to the bottom of your camisole. He pulls the skimpy top off of you quickly, revealing your tits. Your nipples harden at the sudden cool air, and Jean’s fingers find them once again, pinching and teasing as you moan into your pillow, desperately bucking your hips up for contact between your legs, to no avail. His hot mouth finds your nipple, flicking with his tongue as his hand plays with the other, before he pulls away quickly.

You whine again at the loss of stimulation, before you see Jean pulling down the band of his grey sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard.

“Prove to me that you deserve big brother’s cock,” he says, revealing his hard dick as it snaps against his stomach. “With your mouth. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You reposition yourself, ass in the air and head at Jean’s crotch as you stare at his pretty, pink cock with wide eyes. You’d expected him to be big, but not like this, though you don’t have time to dwell on it as he grips it firmly and taps the angry, pink tip against your lips.

You hang your tongue out, spit collecting and falling all over his length before you finally take as much as you can into your mouth, sucking and swirling as your hands move up and down the rest that you can’t take.

“Just like that-” Jean begins before breaking into a loud moan. You pop him out of your mouth and keep stroking with your hands as you whisper for him to shush.

“What happened to being quiet, and everyone downstairs will hear, and-” You’re interrupted as Jean grips his cock and shoves it back into your mouth, gagging suddenly at the unexpected movement.

Jean stares at your obedient mouth, following his instructions without any sign of the brat he was so used to. As you cup his balls in your hand, he feels them tighten and knows he’s not gonna last much longer like this. He guides your head away from his cock, admiring the drool and spit on your face and the glassy eyes he’s longed to see.

“Jean, I wanna-”

“I don’t care what you want, sweetheart,” he says, a false sweetness in his voice that’s making you feel dizzy. “You’re gonna ride me now, you got that?”

Jean’s hands are firmly set on your hips, positioning you just as he wants as you hover above his leaking cock. You grind down quickly, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit, before Jean stops your motions with the tight grip he has on you. “Are you gonna make me repeat myself?” he questions, in a tone that makes you positive that you don't want to make him angry. You shake your head immediately, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your wet hole, before slowly sinking down.

“Oh, god-!” you let out, before clasping a hand over your mouth. You had never felt quite so full before, the stretching burn making heat course through your whole body, as you bottom out and clench hard. “Come on, baby, you know how long you’ve been begging for this? Don’t get shy on me now,” Jean says, and you regain your senses slowly. You start moving, up and down, just like he wants and speeding up as you feel your cunt gush against Jean.

You’re sure to be making a mess, but you can hardly care when your brain feels so cloudy and distracted at how good Jean feels inside you, and you start the grinding movement again. Jean entertains you for a minute, before grabbing your hips even tighter, nearly at a bruising grip now, and snapping his own hips to thrust into you.

You’re blabbering now, utterly senseless as Jean fucks you mercilessly. You know you’re being loud, but you just don’t care, not when Jean is hitting that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars before you know it, your hands on his shoulders and holding on for life.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum all over your brother’s big cock?” Jean teases, feeling you clench down harder and knowing he won’t be able to hold on much longer either. “Yes, yes, yes! Jean! Oh, Jean-” you finally feel the tight coil in your stomach snap, unaware of your own movements and surroundings as you focus on the pleasure Jean’s giving you. You yell out, cumming so intensely and shaking on top of Jean, twitching once more when you hear Jean groan and feel hot ropes of cum inside you.

Your throat feels dry and scratchy, heart pounding as you come down from your high. You feel Jean’s grip, much softer now, lead you off of his cock and lay you next to him on the bed. It’s a mess, and you don’t know how you’ll clean up with everyone downstairs and surely they’ve noticed you’re both still gone-but you still don’t care.

All you care about is the sound of Jean’s heart beat from your position on his chest, and the way his hands feel on your skin as he holds you close to his warm body.

“So,” he starts off quietly, “was it how you’ve been imagining it all this time?” You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s smiling.

“Mmh,” you hum contentedly, “even better.” You feel his body rumble with a laugh, and his hand reaches to cup your face and lean into you for a kiss. Just as your lips meet, you hear a sharp knock at the door.

“Might wanna hurry up, you two,” Eren calls out from the other side of the door. “The others are getting suspicious.”

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

The Fundamentals of Gendrya

So I just want to establish the possible foreshadowing Arya and Gendry have that hints at a possible romantic relationship in the future, as well as the romantic undertones present in their story.  I’m not really going to focus on symbolism in this meta (although it will come up a couple of times in a minor way), as that will be a focus for future meta.  This is only meant to establish the fundamental basics.

First I want to say that when I’m talking about the romantic possibility of Gendrya, I mean future Gendrya, as in once Arya is older.  However I will posit and say that because we are viewing this in the world of Westeros (in a pseudo Medieval world that GRRM exaggerated and sensationalized from real Medieval sources as well as rumor) and because GRRM has established he has no problems with placing his younger characters in romantic or sexual situations (see Mercy TWOW) I think it would be remiss to think GRRM would not take Arya and Gendry here if that was his plan all along.  After all, there is plenty of precedent.  

This also leads me to remind everyone that Gendry is not an adult when he meets Arya, and the age gap between the two is one of the least egregious age gaps in the books as most of the age gaps are between adult men in their 20’s and 30’s with 12-16 year old girl’s.  I think a lot of people think of the age gap as Arya being 9 the whole time and Gendry being 16, but this is in fact wrong.  According to the timeline, Arya and Gendry meet at the beginning of 299 AC, right around Arya’s 10th birthday.  In 299 AC Gendry was only 13/14 years old.  He was born in 284 AC and is not the same age as Robb and Jon, like Ned surmises.  Gendry is just big for his age, and it’s highly likely Gendry doesn’t even know how old he is.  When Arya and Gendry separate in ASOS Arya is almost 11 while Gendry is 14/15 years old.  

Regardless, this is fiction, and doesn’t reflect real world morals.  So what I’m getting at is that if anyone disagrees with this meta because of their ages I suggest you don’t read any further.

Foreshadowing

Our first hint of foreshadowing happens in Arya’s very first chapter:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls.  Sansa's needlework was exquisite.  Everyone said so.  “Sansa's work is as pretty as she is,” Septa Mordane told their lady mother once.  “She has such fine, delicate hands.”  When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed.  “Arya has the hands of a blacksmith.” - Arya I AGOT

This quote is later followed up with:

[...] “I ruined that gown Lady Smallwood gave me, and I don't sew so good.”  She chewed her lip.  “I don't sew very well, I mean.  Septa Mordane used to say I had a blacksmith's hands.”

Gendry hooted.  “Those soft little things,” he called out.  “You couldn't even hold a hammer.” - Arya VII ASOS

In the same book Lem Lemoncloak says this to Gendry:

“You must be a lackwit, boy,” said Lem.  “We're outlaws.  Lowborn scum, most of us, except for his lordship.  Don't think it'll be like Tom's fool songs neither.  You won't be stealing no kisses from a princess, nor riding in no tourneys in stolen armor.  You join us, you'll end with your neck in a noose, or your head mounted up above some castle gate.” - Arya VII ASOS

At this point Arya is indeed a princess, but Lem also makes an obvious reference (to the audience) to the Knight of the Laughing Tree, which I think we can safely say was Lyanna.  The fact that Lyanna is Arya’s literary mirror, tells me we can connect Arya to Lem’s comment, not to mention the inclusion of “princess” just kind of seals the deal.  We also know that Arya is the spitting image of Lyanna and Gendry the spitting image of Robert Baratheon.  I think it’s worth noting also that after Acorn Hall, Lem takes it upon himself to make sure nothing untoward happens between Arya and Gendry (he thought Gendry was taking advantage of Arya after they wrestled) as he starts sleeping in between them, which is seen in Arya V ASOS when they are at The Peach.  Lem saying “Don’t think it’ll be like Tom’s fool songs neither” is also interesting because at Acorn Hall we specifically get Tom singing a love song directed towards Arya and Gendry.

Speaking of Lyanna and Robert being reflections of Arya (in both appearance and personality) and Gendry (in appearance for the most part) this is said in Eddard I AGOT:

We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done."

Now this quote may be referring to Sansa and Joffrey, but I do think it’s foreshadowing for Gendrya and this is just a misdirect.  After all, Joffrey is not Robert Baratheon’s son by blood, but Gendry is, even though he is illegitimate.  To me this also sounds like a promise.  When you think about it, the story truly begins at the Tourney of Harrenhal with the events that broke the betrothal between Lyanna and Robert, so it would be very cyclical for the ending to do what the beginning could not, binding a Stark and a Baratheon together in marriage.

There are also several references about Arya marrying an apprentice/blacksmith:

“[...] Or if it is marriage and children you desire, tell me, and we shall find a husband for you.  Some honest apprentice boy, a rich old man, a seafarer, whatever you desire.” - Arya II AFFC

We also have a comment made by Jaime:

“Not all,” said Jaime.  “Lord Eddard's daughters live.  One has just been wed.  The other...”  Brienne, where are you?  Have you found her?  “...if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark.  She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall.” - Jaime I ADWD

Now I know what you are going to say, that Jaime is referring to Sansa possibly marrying a blacksmith or innkeep, but if it weren’t for Jaime’s thought’s in the middle towards Brienne, you’d never guess which Stark daughter he is referring to because Sansa was only just recently married as well.  Also it’s Arya who is associated with a blacksmith (Gendry) and a fat-faced innkeep (Hot Pie).  So while Jaime is referring to Sansa here I think we are meant to actually look at the reality behind this and reverse the foreshadowing back onto Arya, because it wasn’t Arya who was recently wed, that was Sansa.  It’s also Arya who is legitimately trying to forget she was a Stark (Sansa isn’t trying to forget, she is only pretending to be Alayne to ensure her protection) and like I mentioned it’s Arya who had a blacksmith and future employee at an inn as companions for two novels.  So I think it’s a foreshadowing switcheroo.  And I think it’s also worth mentioning that while Jaime sent Brienne out to save Sansa, Brienne spends her whole journey almost exclusively hearing news and following leads about Arya.

There is also a reference in Brienne VII AFFC that makes mention that Arya may marry an apprentice boy:

Gendry was the closest thing to a man grown, but it was Willow shouting all the orders, as if she were a queen in her castle and the other children were no more than servants.

If she were highborn, command would come naturally to her, and deference to them.  Brienne wondered whether Willow might be more than she appeared.  The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.  Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny...could it be?  Arya Stark's hair was brown, she recalled, but Brienne was not sure about the color of her eyes.  Brown and brown, was that it?  Could it be that she did not die at Saltpans after all?

*

“One day that little girl [Willow] will make some man a frightful wife,” Ser Hyle observed.  “That poor 'prentice boy [Gendry], most like.”

Willow is very obviously a Arya stand-in which makes this specific quote about Arya and Gendry, not Willow and Gendry.

Arya IV ASOS has the strongest case for future romantic Gendrya.  Not only does Gendry follow after Arya and invite her to look at the forge, Gendry opens up to her about his life right before he was uprooted, and does this:

Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away.

Gendry is being playful and open with Arya during most of this scene in the forge, teasing her in a manner that verges on flirting, telling her a story about his past, laughing and having fun with Arya.  And then this happens:

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her.  “You look different now.  Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though.  A nice oak tree.”  He stepped closer, and sniffed at her.  “You even smell nice for a change.”

“You don't.  You stink.”  Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm.  She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy.  He was very strong, but she was quicker.  Every time he tried to hold her still she wiggled free and punched him.  Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad.  He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free.  Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress.  “I bet I don't look so nice now,” she shouted.

Gendry compliments Arya’s looks and scent, only for Arya to think he’s teasing her about her appearance due to her intense insecurity when it comes to highborn conformation (Gendry’s laugh when he first saw her didn’t help matters in her insecurity even though Gendry most likely only laughed out of being startled at her transformation).  This insecurity leads Arya into getting angry and starting a wrestling match with him.  This wrestling scene also directly follows Jaime and Brienne’s very sexually charged sword fight, and could also be interpreted as foreshadowing a romantic and potentially sexual relationship in the future, like theirs did, when they are older.  

Now I’m not saying that I think Gendrya is going to go NC-17 in the books, but I do think it’s likely to go PG-13 by the end of ADOS, considering we have precedent that GRRM has no qualms about writing these types of things as I mentioned above, and we know Arya is going to be 12 in TWOW and may be at least 14-15 when the series ends depending on how much GRRM can spread out the timeline in the next two books.  But considering the amount of stuff that needs to happen, I think the next two books will span 2-3 years before the epilogue begins.

Then there is the love song GRRM specifically wrote for Arya.  A song that has only appeared in one chapter, Arya’s chapter:

“My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

“And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him,

no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass.”

Now we know this song is about them because when Tom O’Sevens is singing it, he winks at Arya, and later Lady Smallwood specifically says to Arya “I have no gowns of leaves”.  The song specifically mentions yellow – a Baratheon color – and depicts the free spirited “Maiden of the Tree” who wants love on her own terms, which sounds like what an older, flowered version of Arya would want if she fell in love.

Romantic Undertones

Arya’s Crush

As she passed the armory, Arya heard the ring of a hammer. A deep orange glow shone through the high windows. She climbed to the roof and peeked down. Gendry was beating out a breastplate. When he worked, nothing existed for him but metal, bellows, fire. The hammer was like part of his arm. She watched the play of muscles in his chest and listened to the steel music he made. He's strong, she thought. As he took up the long-handled tongs to dip the breastplate into the quenching trough, Arya slithered through the window and leapt down to the floor beside him. - Arya IX ACOK

It’s very subtle but this paragraph tells us everything.  Arya unintentionally reveals in this quote that she watches Gendry blacksmithing enough to know that the world falls away when he’s in his element.  She watches the play of muscles in his back and notes how strong he is and even attaches poetic language to his work.  Arya has a crush on Gendry.  It’s not acknowledged and it’s likely she doesn’t understand it herself, but this seems to be the truth of it, especially with the way GRRM worded this.  I don’t know how many times I’ve read a romance where the protagonist studies their love interest while watching the “play of muscles” in their back or their arms.  It’s also interesting to note that Arya always mentions specifics about Gendry’s looks and notes details about him:

He blinked at her, startled. Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. "I'd hurt you." - Arya II ACOK

"It's me they want," Arya whispered back. His ear smelled of soap. "You be quiet." - Arya II ACOK

When she spied Gendry, his bare chest was slick with sweat, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair had the stubborn look she remembered. - Arya VIII ACOK

"She's not alone." Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chainmail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. - Arya II ASOS

Now most of these I’d normally chalk up to the author just being descriptive, but if that’s the case, why don’t we know more about Hot Pie’s looks, who Arya spent nearly a year with at the same time as Gendry?  Why does she take special time out to describe Gendry so much?  Honestly I think part of it is to keep reminding us that Gendry is a secret Baratheon bastard, but that doesn’t explain the first quote about Arya watching the “play of muscles” in his back and noting how strong he is.  So I think it’s a combination of GRRM wanting to remind the audience that Gendry is a Baratheon and to also subtly show us that Arya has an innocent crush on him, but doesn’t know or acknowledge that this is the case out loud.

Their Mutual Jealousy

Starting after the events of Acorn Hall in Arya IV ASOS, it’s obvious that something shifts in Arya and Gendry’s relationship.  One aspect is that Gendry can no longer ignore that Arya is indeed a highborn girl after seeing her for the first time dressed up as one.  He knows what class differences will mean for their friendship.  And another aspect, is that Gendry acknowledges that he may be romantically interested in Arya, or at least acknowledges the potential for those feelings to emerge in time.  And because of this, combined with their class differences, Gendry knows that if he follows Arya to Riverrun where her mother and brother are, he would end up watching Arya grow into someone he could romantically love, only for her to be torn away from him due to an arranged marriage.  Both of these aspects play a factor in why we see Gendry become more outwardly scathing towards highborns in the chapters following this and why his behavior seems to become one rife with jealousy.

In Arya V ASOS the Brotherhood Without Banners travel to The Peach and both of the above aspects I spoke of are present in this chapter:

"You don't even know what a brothel is."

"I do so," she insisted. "It's like an inn, with girls."

He was turning red again. "What are you doing here, then?" he demanded. "A brothel's no fit place for no bloody highborn lady, everybody knows that."

And when Gendry protects Arya from a pervert by saying that she’s his sister, this is what goes down:

"Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet. "You're not my brother."

"That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."

Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I meant it."

"Yes it is." He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her."

Arya doesn’t really understand the intentions of the pervert, despite knowing of sex, and is confused on why Gendry would say that he’s her brother, but when she asks him, he takes it the wrong way since he is already so sensitive about their class differences at this point in their story.  That last paragraph is what makes this exchange really interesting though.  Why would Gendry say this, when it’s already made clear and established in this chapter that Gendry has no intentions of sleeping with any of the girls, even when it’s offered to him for free?  He is very obviously lying to try to get a rise out of Arya and the only way this makes sense is if we put it under a romantic lens.

Then we have this:

Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.

Now considering Arya’s defense mechanism (the mechanism that has her calling things or people stupid when she’s hurt or feeling inadequate by them to try to make the pain and hurt not seem so severe) the fact that she calls Gendry a “stupid bullheaded bastard boy” and proclaims Gendry ringing the bells of any girl was “nothing to her” tells us that it matters to her and that she’s upset.  This is further reiterated in Arya VIII ASOS:

Arya wished she had another crabapple to bounce off his face. "My father had honor," she said angrily. "And we weren't talking to you anyway. Why don't you go back to Stoney Sept and ring that girl's stupid bells?"

So here we have Arya mention this three chapters later, likely weeks if not months later.  If Arya didn’t care about Gendry ringing “all the bells he wanted” then why is she still so hurt and jealous?  She’s obviously been stewing about this for a while.

In this same chapter we also see gems from Gendry that clearly proclaim that he’s still plagued about his class differences to Arya.  It also clearly shows that Gendry is jealous of Edric Dayne once Arya befriends him, especially since she befriended someone highborn, like her, who just so happens to be a boy who we know has nearly the same coloring as Rhaegar Targaryen, which evokes the history repeating motif that is present in Arya’s arc of the Rhaegar/Lyanna/Robert love triangle.

"You have a knife," Gendry suggested. "If your hair annoys you so much, shave your bloody head."

He doesn't like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey. - Arya VIII ASOS

And

"My lady?" Ned looked embarrassed. "I'm Edric Dayne, the . . . the Lord of Starfall."

Behind them, Gendry groaned. "Lords and ladies," he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bull head. "Ow," he said. "That hurt." He felt the skin above his eye. "What kind of lady throws crabapples at people?"

"The bad kind," said Arya, suddenly contrite. 

Gendry continues to encapsulate “ours is the fury” during Arya’s whole exchange with Edric Dayne.

I do want to add that I know Gendry’s class issues have always been there, and it’s definitely been made even more apparent to him during the War of the Five Kings during his time in the wartorn Riverlands with Arya, so it’s not exactly that far-fetched that Gendry may become even more sensitive and/or bitter about it.  However, this extremity of his behavior only happened after Acorn Hall where he saw Arya looking like the highborn girl she is.  And while I do believe part of Gendry’s increase of bitterness about their class differences does have to do with potential romantic feelings, I also think it has to do with Gendry also coming to terms with the fact that Arya’s family is also directly responsible for the carnage they have seen and experienced (even though he doesn’t blame Arya, as she seems to be one of Gendry’s exceptions when it comes to his dislike of the nobility).  If it weren’t for the blatant flirting on his behalf in the forge at Acorn Hall and the jealousy, I would honestly chalk it up to Gendry trying to reconcile his own trauma and anger regarding highborns, including Arya’s family’s sins, but alas, that is not completely the case.

Post Separation

When Arya is kidnapped by the Hound and witnesses the Red Wedding, Arya contemplates where she may go and this crosses her thoughts in a very romanticized light:

She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. - Arya XII ASOS

The fact that Arya follows this thought up with “that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream” tells us specifically what type of fantasy this is.  Arya isn’t fantasizing about an adventure, she’s fantasizing about love and romance, considering those are the types of flights of fancy Sansa always loses herself in.  Now Arya isn’t outright rejecting the possibility of romance here, because there is more to that second paragraph:

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. Hot Pie and Gendry had left her just as soon as they could, and Lord Beric and the outlaws only wanted to ransom her, just like the Hound. None of them wanted her around. They were never my pack, not even Hot Pie and Gendry. I was stupid to think so, just a stupid little girl, and no wolf at all.

She rejects the possibility because she remembers that Hot Pie and Gendry abandoned her as soon as they could, and that all the Brotherhood did was use her, according to her perspective on the matter.  And her perspective is entirely skewed because of her abandonment and low self-esteem issues, as well as not fully understanding the class issues as she honestly didn’t think that bringing Hot Pie and Gendry to Riverrun and Winterfell would cause any issues with their friendships, which is understandable for a kid to think.  Especially one that hadn’t been in the highborn world for the past year and a half.  In fact, Medieval children in the real world and in the books, weren’t reprimanded for playing together regardless of class, usually the highborn children played with the children of those who worked and lived within the castle walls, from other lords children to stewards children to the helps children.  It’s just something children did until they reached a certain age where it just wasn’t allowed anymore.  So it’s only natural for this not to really factor into Arya’s plans.

When Arya is about to walk into the House of Black and White, Arya comforts her fear with a memory of Gendry:

Suddenly she was somewhere else . . . back in Harrenhal with Gendry [...] - Arya I AFFC

Which indicates that Gendry is still very much on her mind at this point.  I think it really says something as well that Arya takes comfort from a memory at Harrenhal of all places.  I think this indicates how much comfort she took from their friendship.  I also think she doesn’t think about Gendry with the Brotherhood to take her comfort because while ASOS has the most romantic foreshadowing for them and the two shared some nice moments, it was also the start of them truly fracturing, or so her unreliable narration interpreted it as.  After all, she actually thought that Gendry was making fun of her looks at Acorn Hall, and she thought Gendry didn’t want to be her friend anymore as he “abandoned her” for the Brotherhood.  So while Harrenhal was awful and they had their disagreements there, Arya still felt reassured with his companionship and likely found it uncomplicated in comparison to her other problems at the time.

*

When we next see Gendry in Brienne VII AFFC we see a drastically different Gendry.  While Gendry has always been guarded and sullen with a chip on his shoulder, with little love for the nobility, this change is drastic enough where it’s unsettling to read at first.  Not only is Gendry just flat out rude in a very mean way but he is filled with rage.  Gendry joined the Brotherhood because he liked how they handled justice, but under Lady Stoneheart there is no justice and he doesn’t seem to mind.  His beliefs have shifted as well.

And though his eyes had been that same deep blue, Lord Renly's eyes had always been warm and welcoming, full of laughter, whereas this boy's eyes brimmed with anger and suspicion.

Septon Meribald asked if he might lead the children in a grace, ignoring the small girl crawling naked across the table. "Aye," said Willow, snatching up the crawler before she reached the porridge. So they bowed their heads together and thanked the Father and the Mother for their bounty . . . all but the black-haired boy from the forge, who crossed his arms against his chest and sat glowering as the others prayed. Brienne was not the only one to notice. When the prayer was done Septon Meribald looked across the table, and said, "Do you have no love for the gods, son?"

"Not for your gods." Gendry stood abruptly. "I have work to do." He stalked out without a bite of food.

Gendry was at his forge, bare-chested beneath his leather apron. He was beating on a sword as if he wished it were a foe [...]

What would a knight be doing working at a smithy? "You have black hair and blue eyes, and you were born in the shadow of the Red Keep. Has no one ever remarked upon your face?"

"What's wrong with my face? It's not as ugly as yours."

Lord Renly was ahead of her, her sweet smiling king. He was leading her horse through the trees. Brienne called out to tell him how much she loved him, but when he turned to scowl at her, she saw that he was not Renly after all. Renly never scowled. He always had a smile for me, she thought . . . except . . .

While some people chalk up Gendry’s behavior as a result of trauma about what he experienced in the Riverlands, and I don’t deny that is a factor, I don’t believe it’s the only factor because we didn’t see Gendry like this post Harrenhal or even with the Brotherhood in ASOS.  Yes he embodied “ours is the fury” at times and was jealous and bitter, and rude at times as well, but he wasn’t flat out cruel to people, nor filled with rage and vengeance.  The Gendry before Arya was taken would never have led Brienne to Lady Stoneheart for the slaughter after she tried to save everyone in that Inn against Rorge and Biter and co.  We can also see another difference in Gendry:

Lightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses. For half a heartbeat darkness turned to day. An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling.

Gendry saw it too. "Him."

While there is no emphasis on the “him” when Gendry sees the Hound’s helm, it’s an abrupt and emotionless statement.  It’s one word without emphasis but it conveys a lot.  Gendry recognizes the Hound’s helm and it’s apparent he’s not happy, thinking that it was indeed the Hound for a minute.  And while I’m trying to avoid discussing symbolism, I just can’t ignore how the lightning that cracked in the south could also be symbolic of Gendry’s true mood.  He is, after all, a bastard Baratheon, connected to the storm, the fury - thunder and lightning - as well as sharing a connection to the god, Thor in our mythology.  This lightning could symbolically be linked to Gendry’s anger and vengeance.  So why does Gendry act like this when he sees who he thinks is the Hound again?  He had no issue with the Hound during his trial by combat, so what changed?  The Hound kidnapped Arya.  And while he knows Arya didn’t die at the Red Wedding, he and the Brotherhood aren’t entirely sure if the Hound sold Arya to the Lannister’s and if she is now Arya Bolton.  So it makes complete sense why he would have issues with the Hound.  In fact I think a lot of this behavior we are seeing from Gendry is the direct result of the Hound kidnapping Arya and not knowing if she’s dead or being brutally raped and tortured in the North.

Why do I think this?  Because this behavior began between Arya being kidnapped in ASOS and Brienne VII AFFC.  Only a few to a handful of months have passed since then.  This, I believe, is the inciting incident.  Another reason why I believe Arya is the reason is because of what he is doing.  He is staying at the Crossroads Inn, one of the last known places Arya was sighted, and he’s helping take care of orphaned children.  Arya took in strays as well and cared for them, like Weasel.  And considering how Gendry in ACOK wanted to leave Weasel and Hot Pie and Lommy behind, it’s interesting to see that he’s helping by taking in strays himself now, as if he thinks he may be able to atone for not saving Arya.  Another reason is because the Brotherhood is actively searching for Arya as well.  She is ever present on their minds.  So yes, I believe part of Gendry’s change has to do with losing Arya, which goes to show how much he really cared about her.  Not to mention (a tiny bit more symbolism, oopsie!), Gendry’s stay at the inn, waiting for Arya to return (I believe Gendry and the BWB are hoping that Arya is alive and will return to the inn) is a romantic aspect to the mythology of Weyland the Smith and his Swan Maiden/Valkyrie, and the aspect about the Brotherhood + Gendry searching the realm for Arya is also a romantic Cinderella motif, hence why I feel Gendry’s behavior here is supposed to have romantic subtext.

*

Extra:  Another interesting aspect that I think foreshadows this future relationship is the meaning of Gendry’s name.  Gendry is a nickname type of surname for a person who has inherited his family estates from his father-in-law, deriving its origin from the Old French word “gendre,” which meant “son-in-law.”  And as we know if Arya and Gendry married when they were older, Arya wouldn’t be taking his name, but he hers, due to her higher status.  So by marrying into the Stark family, he would be inheriting from his father-in-law Ned so to speak, even if it’s just inheriting the surname.

So this is everything I’ve compiled so far about Gendrya, that relies on just their foreshadowing and romantic undertones in the texts we have available but I’m positive I’ll be adding more to this list once TWOW officially releases.  However, I still have a lot more to share that focuses on their symbolism and motifs throughout the story, so I’m definitely not done making Gendrya meta, far from it and I can’t wait to share it with you all!  

And if anyone is interested in Arya’s and by extension Gendrya’s Cinderella motifs, you can find it at this link:  A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes.

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt.4

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 2,884

Notes: Okay I got a new laptop :) and I started a new job so I've been a bit busy but I should have a new chapter out sometime next week

Date Posted: 9/13/2021

“Come on, we don’t have all night. Let’s talk this out, communication is key.” That only caused them to meander their way in, softly shutting the door behind them with an audible click in this silence. Jungkook settled in at the foot of my bed but Taehyung stood next to him, his form rigid. The room had a tense air about it, the two refusing to speak. “Okay, fine, You don’t want to start then I will. Taehyung, how long have you been scenting me without me knowing ?”

“We both have,” Jungkook interjected. His face was resigned into one that expected only the worst outcome.

Well, that didn’t answer my question. “How long?”

“The second week after I met you. I’ve been scenting you since then, Jungkook has only scented you since we ran into that asshole at the grocery store.” Tae spoke up finally but kept his eyes trained on the floor. 

That did make sense but I was confused why Hobi never noticed.“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew since Hoseok scents you constantly so after a few days I joined in and started to scent you too. I didn’t know you were oblivious until about a month ago when Hoseok noticed I was on you and you laughed him off. I realized I should probably talk to you about it since you’re dense when it comes to hybrids. But I didn't stop, I kept the pheromones low so I could keep you claimed in between then and now.”His body language was stiff, his eyes trained on the hardwood floors while he clenched his hands at his sides. He looked both defiant and scared, a combination that I would never have expected from the snow leopard.

The possessiveness that permeated the word ‘claimed’ ruffled a few of my feathers and I couldn’t help exclaiming: “You claimed me? What the fuck Tae?”

Taehyung finally looked up, his eyes much softer than I expected, he reached out for me and gently held my hand. “No, it's not what you think. It helps me know you’re okay. I knew something was wrong earlier because the pheromones soured all of a sudden so I ran down to you. Jungkook can attest! With both of our scents entwined with yours, it's easy to know when you’re not okay.”

“It’s why I noticed your pheromones changed with the babies.” Jungkook chimed in once again, he was letting Taehung do all the talking, typical Kookie.

I pulled my hands away to rub my forehead, frustrated a bit at how it just wasn’t clicking for me. A lot of useful information that means jack-shit to me when beating around the bush. “But what does this all mean? You mentioned pack earlier, what does that mean?”

“Well, a pack is a group of individuals who care for each other. It was more common among our grandparents but hybrids our age are bringing the idea back since the laws are changing for us to have more freedoms. By the time the babies are born, I think we’ll be fully independent and we were going to wait until then to tell you about our pack.” Jungkook explained, his hands knotting together under the stress of explaining it to me. I appreciated that he was trying and I knew somehow he was only speaking because of how stressed I looked.

I nodded, that could make sense. “So, we’re all in a pack? Then why did Hobi look so angry when you said that?”

“No, just You, Kook, and I. We are a pack, we claimed you together.” Taehyung finally sat down on the bed with us, his body coiling on the edge as if he was prepared to run at any second.

“Claiming you means we love you Y/n. We want every other hybrid to know that you are loved by us both- so we scent you. It took me a while to do it too but it’s this burning itch under my skin that won't go away until I can smell myself on you. Like Tae said before, when we scent you it helps us keep track of your pheromones so we’re more attuned to if something happens to you.” Jungkook stared deeply into my eyes, his sincere expression willed me to finally understand what they were saying.

Only one thing caught my attention. “It hurts you when you don’t scent me?”

“It drives me crazy, I hate when you don’t smell like me, it’s all I can think about,” Tae explained, his face contrite as he once again reached for my wrist. I let him this time and he lightly rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. Something he’s done a million times but this felt different.

I swallowed hard at the other major point in Kook’s explanation. “And you think you love me?”

Tae scoffed at that. “We don’t think, We know. You don’t have to love us back but you should at least know how we feel before you send us off.”

“Who said you’re being sent off? So what I reek of you two? It’s not hurting me but we’ll have to set some boundaries if you guys are going to keep doing this.” Both men perked up at that, both coming in closer as if we were huddling on my queen-sized mattress. The change in their moods was soothing to the tension that has bubbled up in my chest. ”First of all, we’ll have to talk about this loving me thing. Then we’ll have to figure out what's going to happen when the shelter is fixed because I'm not too sure when the government is going to get its shit together. Then  we’ll have to discuss this whole pack thing a little more- why can’t hobi be a part of it?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll do whatever, but can I scent you now? Since you know, I can do it now  right?” I’ve never seen Taehyung so excited, his eyes animated like he was a kid at Christmas. He leaned forward while bracing himself lightly against my shoulders while I nodded apprehensively. “I can do it fully right? No light scents?

At my second nod, Jungkook appeared to my left as he too broached my bubble. “Dammit Tae, you’re stinking up the whole room.”

Jungkook took to rubbing his head and neck against my own while Taehyung was butting me with his head seemingly everywhere- my shoulder, forehead, and a hand held my own close to his chest. Tae dragged his forehead from the right side of my neck down my shoulder and arm to my inner wrist. Once there he delicately kissed my pulse point. Jungkook had my right side occupied, pinning me into place, his shoulders crowding most of my frame. Our necks were pressed firmly together as he started to run his lips along the skin behind my ear before firmly pressing a kiss there.

The feeling of Jungkook kissing behind my ear made me shiver at the sudden affection. Taehyung groaned. “She smells so good now, smell her Kookie, she smells like us both. Like she’s finally part of our pack.”

Jungkook merely grunted in response as he pressed his face into my shoulder while taking in a deep breath. Tae reversed his process and traced his way back up to my neck where he decided to rest his head against my clavicle. I took a steadying breath to calm the tingles erupting across my body.

“Okay, that’s what you guys have been holding back? I’m alright with this happening more regularly, but not in front of others since Joonie looked so offended and  I assume it’s a more private thing.” They finally pulled away after what seemed like forever and I could feel the raging blush covering both my cheeks as I tried to calm down at the intimacy. “ Now, onto the love part.”

“I don’t have much else to say, it’s a simple fact for me.” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. He stayed glued to my right side and pulled my arm into his embrace as he played with my fingers idly.

“It’s been three months, you barely know me.” playing with my hand was distracting and there was barely any strength in my argument. It was nice to feel loved but I felt somewhat guilty over this- they deserved much more than I could give them.

“You were meant for us both but if you want us to wait then I’ll hold off on saying it until you’re ready to hear it.” Taehyung raised on his knees and kissed my forehead gingerly.

“You guys can’t be serious.” I shook my head at them both but a quick look at them both showed they had earnest expressions. “Guys what about the shel-”

“Adopt us, as tough as it is right now they’ll allow it especially because you’re living with certified fosters. Then we can’t be separated.” Taehyung spoke matter-of-factly, he reached out and traced lazy patterns on my knee while I stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m not going to adopt you if you guys want to be with me, it’d be a weird dynamic if we went to the doctors and I’d have to sign as your owner .” The thought of them being my property made an acrid taste form in the back of my throat.

“But that’s exactly why you should, we know you’d never see us as lesser and we’ll take good care of not only you but the babies as well.” Jungkook reasoned as he rubbed his cheek against the palm of my hand that he stole.

Another wave of guilty unease at this evolving relationship hit. I was okay with the affection and care that they’ve been supplying but was I okay with the relationship? Those cuddle sessions and tender moments that we’ve had so far now felt much more real and intimate than before. How had I convinced myself that it was platonic? “That’s another reason you guys should reconsider this whole ordeal, it’d be easier for me than you two. Do you want to commit to babies that aren’t even yours.”

A low growl sounded from Kookie’s chest- something I had never heard before. He usually kept his more animalistic traits under a tight leash. He sat up abruptly and reached for my face to make sure my eyes were trained on him while he spoke with a soft gruffness. “They are ours, don’t you even think about saying that again. We are the ones who’ve been supporting you throughout this pregnancy- not that asshole from the store. We tell them stories at night and bring you the food you’re craving. Hell, I rub your feet because of the swelling every time your feet are near me, and Taehyung rubs out the knots in your back when you’ve stood too long. We’ve been here for you the whole time and I know I love them as my babies. I am their dad, more than he would ever be.”

“I guess if you’re dad then I’ll be papa. It has a nice ring to it.” Tae butted in with a smile as Jungkook released me. His smile was so warm it ebbed away any lingering dregs of guilt.

“You guys can’t be serious,” I repeated once again but they were unaffected by whatever I had thrown at them. They were serious.

“Y/n, I’ve been planning this out since I’ve met you, it was love at first sight.” Tae took to holding my face this time, his hands were warm as he stroked my cheek lightly. The love was tangible in how he stared down at me, something I couldn’t ignore any longer.

“Okay, I get it, but what does this mean for us now?” I could hear the fearful hesitation in my voice.

“Nothing has to change sweetheart. We can act just how we always have and the only difference is that you know we love you.” Jungkook nodded along to the ashy-haired man’s assurances.

“Would you be happy with that though? To pretend that nothing has changed even though something has.” My heated tone kept them silent as I collected my thoughts. “Since you’ve claimed me- does that mean you see me as your girlfriend?”

“Well, to be honest, it’s a bit more than that. Girlfriend is a bit fleeting. It's more like you are ours and we are yours- for forever ideally but we don’t want to force that onto you.” Taehyung smiled bashfully as he stuttered through the clarification.

“If it’s more than a girlfriend- do you mean you see me as your wife?” Wow, with just a question I think I broke Taehyung. While he looked like he was blue-screening, Jungkook tried to hide a chuckle.

“For the sake of Taehyung’s face let’s just leave it as girlfriend for now. We can expand on that more later.” Jungkook explained, his smile evident through his words.

“So I'm a girlfriend to both of you and you guys are my boyfriends?” they nodded eagerly at my questioning tone. “Are you also each other’s boyfriends?”

“Uh, while Jungkook is gorgeous, that’s a no. we’re each other's packmates and there is a certain level of love and trust that goes into it but in the end, it's just enough for us to trust each other with you. If that makes sense?” Taehyung trailed off, his face twisted into one of confusion at the word vomit he just spewed.

“I think what Taehyung is trying to say is that we aren’t dating each other. Not that it is impossible for packmates to also get romantically involved with each other - we just haven’t.  we’d prefer to share your love and protect each other.” Jungkook tried to salvage the half-baked clarification.

“I am not protecting you Kookie, you are the one with a police background- you’re supposed to protect me while I protect her.” Taehyung suddenly pointed out.

“First of all, how rude. You’re my Packmate, you’re supposed to protect me too asshole.`` Jungkook playfully glared and by the twitching around his chin, I could tell he was fighting back a smile.

“I can’t protect someone who doesn’t need protecting. You are a one-man army, especially when it comes to the pack.”

Jungkook smiled at that and retorted with a: “You tried to fight Hoseok when he tried to separate our rooms at the shelter.”

“He was putting you with that bitch that growled at you when you first joined the group. How else was I supposed to react?” Taehyung had a beautiful blush rush across his face. He was so affectionate usually; so why was he arguing that he wouldn’t protect him?

“He was moving me because you complained about sharing a room with me for two weeks straight.'' Jungkook's exasperation was tangible; maybe they have this argument often?

“You get up before the sun to work out. How else was I supposed to get my beauty rest?” Tae’s argument was a paper-thin excuse. He was absolutely glowing red with his growing blush.

“Admit it in the end, you protect me just as much as I protect you.” Jungkook smiled at him with no mirth, he was done teasing him about it I guess.

That didn’t stop the flat-out refusal of: “I do not.”

“Y/n, wouldn’t you say Taehyung is just as protective of me as I am of him?” asked as he kissed the back of my hand, drawing all my attention to him.

“Tae, honey, you make his plate every night at dinner.” I sheepishly pointed out, a little unsure of how I'd place in this so-called argument. It was more flirting than anything if I was being asked but I guess I'm not the best person to ask since I did not comprehend them coming onto me in the first place.

Pseudo-shock flashed across his face at my statement.“That's because this idiot will only eat carbs and meat if we let him! I make your plate too.”

“That’s only proving my point. You are protective over your packmates.” Jungkook pushed at his shoulder playfully. A way they only ever acted when it was just us three, damn, maybe I should have noticed it sooner. There were definite lines drawn early on when it came to how our dynamic worked and they often showed me sides of themselves that my parents or brothers had never seen.

“That’s it, I'm going downstairs and giving myself over to Namjoon. His torture would be a mercy compared to this.” The drama queen stalked his way to my door and opened it with a flourish while Kookie and I both giggled.

“Tae are you not going to tell the baby a bedtime story?” My question stopped him in his tracks. He froze for just a second before gently swinging the door shut and marching his way back over to the bed with a smile that eclipsed the rest of his face.

“Babies. And of course, I am, tonight we’ll tell them the story of Hansel and Gretel.” He climbed back onto the bed and sprawled across the bottom of the bed and my extended legs. He settled in with his head resting slightly on my left hip before starting on his fairytale. Jungkook was curled up on my right side, still holding my hand captive, and he traced swirls across my forearm with a content smile. There was a warmth in my chest that I had been ignoring for a while, a warmth they only seemed to bring out and I realized I would be devastated if this warmth was to ever disappear.

Sorry, I forgot about my taglist last chapter! here's it as of right now and if you want to be added or taken off let me know!

@jelly-fishy-babie @nomimits7 @littlewolfieposts @fangirl125reader @xeirisarax @ghostkat23 @gayitachiuchiha @forever1313 @nellaphine @kooky-mysterious @rainbow-realm @xanny91 @demonslover @inumorph @uraveragefangirlsposts@alex--awesome--22 @akacamiworld @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh